Fire and Steel, Volume 3

by Gerald N. Lund

  “I’ll say,” Mitch agreed. “That sourdough bread was especially tasty.”

  “And so light,” Edie added.

  “Thank you.” Adelia turned to her husband. “Take Edie and Mitch into the living room. I’ll clean up and put the kids down for a nap. Then I’ll join you.”

  Edie stood up too. “Let me clean this up. You worry about the children.”

  “No, no. I’ll just clear the dishes and get the kids down. I’ll only be a few minutes.” She reached out and briefly touched her husband’s arm. “We have much to talk about, but Jacob has some news to share with you. By the time he tells you that, I’ll be back out with you.”

  They went into the living room as Adelia started clearing the dishes. Jacob motioned for them to sit on the sofa, and he took a chair opposite them. Jacob immediately began. “Mitch, I don’t know how you’ve been since we returned from our trip last fall, but it had a much more profound effect on me than I expected. Even now, after almost a year, I find myself thinking about it all the time.”

  “The same for me. It was a life-altering experience.”

  “Yes, that’s the right phrase for it. Life altering. Only for me, that turned out to be literal.”

  “How so?” Edie inquired.

  “As you’ll remember, Adelia is an Arizona girl, and I’m from here in Salt Lake. We met at BYU and were married just before I started my senior year.”

  Edie and Mitch both nodded.

  “And did I ever tell you what I majored in?” he asked.

  “You told me,” Mitch replied, “while we were in Germany. German literature as your major and the German language as your minor, right?”

  Edie was surprised. “I just assumed it was in business or finance or something.”

  “Because I work in a bank, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, when it became obvious that my intention was to ask Adelia to marry me, her father started talking to me about working at his bank. So I took a couple of accounting classes, a class in economics, and a business class. We thought we’d be living in Arizona once we were married, but then her father decided to start another bank in Salt Lake. He made Adelia’s older brother president, and I was hired as a clerk.”

  “But now you’re the senior loan officer, right?” Edie asked.

  “Yes.” He smiled momentarily. “For now, at least. Come next month, I’ll just be a part-time loan officer.”

  Edie tried not to stare. He was the son-in-law of the bank owner and the brother-in-law of the bank president, and they were cutting him back to part time? That was not a good sign.

  He read her expression perfectly and laughed aloud. “I think I’d better explain. It was about two weeks after we returned last year that I came home from work one night. My head was so full of Germany that I could scarcely think of anything else. So that night, as we were getting ready for bed, I worked up my courage and asked Adelia a question.”

  Suddenly, Adelia appeared from the hallway that led to the bedrooms. “And I’ll tell you, it knocked me for a loop.”

  “They’re asleep so quickly?” Jacob asked in surprise.

  “Not Liesel. She’s reading a book. But Jakie is out.” Adelia moved over and took the chair beside her husband, reaching out to hold his hand.

  “You tell them,” Jacob said, squeezing her hand.

  Adelia turned to Edie and Mitch. “Well, I was already in bed, and he was sitting on the edge of it, taking off his shoes, and suddenly he turns around and says to me, right out of the blue, ‘Honey, how upset would you be if I decided that I didn’t want to make banking my career?’”

  “Oh, my!” Edie exclaimed.

  “Yes. Oh, my, indeed. I was totally flabbergasted. After five years in the bank? I just stared at him like I hadn’t understood his question. And so he started talking.”

  Jacob continued the story. “I told her I wanted to go back to school and get a master’s degree in German history and literature.”

  Mitch gulped in surprise. “Really?”

  Adelia turned to him, her eyes soft as dew now. “And this is so like my Jacob. Before I could ask him a single question, he started laying it all out. He’d been up to the University of Utah and looked into the program. He had worked out a schedule where he would continue at the bank part time, seeing loan clients in the afternoon after he attended classes in the morning. He even had a plan for how we would pay for it. And then,” she said with a smile, “he asked me if I thought my father would disown him for saying he didn’t want to be a banker. I told him yes, he absolutely would, but I was pretty sure he’d get over it in a day or two.” Adelia reached over and patted Jacob’s cheek. “He completed his first semester in June. With all A’s, I might add. Can you believe that? Working full time and going to school almost full time, and he manages to get grades like that.”

  “And so what did you say when he asked you?” Edie asked.

  Jacob looked at his wife. “Can I answer that for you, dear?”

  “Depends on what you’re going to say,” she said, her eyes teasing him.

  Jacob turned to Mitch and Edie. “After I laid it all out for her, she asked me one question. Just one.”

  “What?” Edie asked.

  “She was quite serious, so I knew this was an important question for her. But I was floored when all she asked was, ‘Jacob, is this what you really want?’ And that was it. When I told her it really was, all she said was, ‘Then let’s do it.’”

  Adelia shrugged, a tiny smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “It wasn’t a big deal. Surely, there’s not that much difference between being the wife of a future partner in a chain of highly profitable banks and being the wife of a starving graduate student.”

  Edie and Mitch burst out laughing as Jacob scooted his chair closer to Adelia and put an arm through hers. “Isn’t she amazing?” he murmured.

  “So what do you hope to do once you get your degree?” Mitch asked, touched by the love between this young couple with whom they had become such close friends.

  “I would like to teach at a university. Eventually I’ll have to get a doctorate, but not for a while.”

  “A university,” Edie asked, “or the University of Utah?”

  “The University of Utah,” Adelia responded. “Then we can stay right here in our lovely home and be close to family. Oh, which reminds me—did I tell you that my parents have moved up here?”

  “No!” Edie exclaimed. “When?”

  “At the first of the summer. Daddy decided that Salt Lake City should be our headquarters.”

  “How wonderful for you,” Edie said. “We’d like to meet them sometime.”

  “And they you,” Jacob said, “for we talk about you all the time. When are you going back home?”

  Mitch answered that. “We plan to leave Friday morning and stop in Provo. Our son, Frank—you remember Frank, don’t you?”

  “Of course,” Adelia said. “The one who fell in love with Daddy’s Cadillac.”

  “The same,” Edie chuckled. “He’s down in Provo at school, and Friday he graduates. Then he’s coming home with us for a week.”

  “He’s graduating from BYU?” Jacob asked in surprise. “I didn’t think he was that old.”

  “No, no,” Mitch laughed. “From BY High School, actually. He’s only sixteen, but they’ve put him on an accelerated program this summer, and he’s graduating early. Then he starts at the university in a couple of weeks.”

  “And what will he be majoring in?”

  “Math and physics,” Edie answered proudly.

  “My goodness,” Jacob exclaimed. “He must be bright.”

  “So,” Adelia said after a moment. “Shall we talk Oberammergau?”

  “Yes,” Edie said. “I’m so excited about it.”

  Jacob frowned. “Actually, Adeli
a and I have some good news and some bad news for you.”

  “Give us the good news first,” Edie said.

  “We got three letters from Germany day before yesterday.”

  “Three?” Edie exclaimed.

  “Yes,” he replied. “One each from Paula and Inga to the two of us, and, much to my surprise, a third one from Hans to me. That’s a first. Paula said that they also wrote to you. Have you not gotten their letters yet?”

  Edie shook her head. “But we left to come up on Monday, so they’ll probably be waiting for us when we get home. So what did they say? I am so anxious to actually meet them next summer. I feel like we’re old friends already.”

  Adelia frowned. “Well, that’s the bad news.”

  Both Edie and Mitch jerked forward. “What?” Mitch cried. “Why not?”

  With a deep sigh, Jacob answered. “In our last letter to Inga, Adelia said something about how excited we are to be coming next summer to the Passion Play.” He stopped, frowning deeply.

  “What?” Mitch cried.

  “Inga told us that the Oberammergau Passion Play is not going to be performed next summer as we were led to believe.”

  August 17, 1920, 12:50 p.m.—Jacob Reissner home, Salt Lake City

  Mitch’s head jerked up as though he’d been stabbed. “What? It’s been canceled?”

  Jacob shrugged. “Not canceled, just postponed. Do you remember who told us that it would be held in 1921 instead of 1920?”

  “Uh . . . no. Someone in the mission home? Maybe President Cannon. He was saying that he hoped to have American missionaries back in Germany by next year, and if he did, he’d like them to see the Passion Play.”

  “That’s my recollection too,” Jacob said. “But according to Inga, the village of Oberammergau postponed it for two years right from the beginning to give Germany more time to fully recover. Hans talks about the reasons in more detail.” He looked at his wife. “Where is his letter? I’d like to read it to them.” He got up and started for the doorway into the hall.

  “All three of them are in the top drawer of our dresser,” Adelia called after him.

  He waved a hand and disappeared. A few seconds later, he was back with the letters, thumbing through them as he walked. He extracted one and handed the other two to Adelia and then sat down again.

  He removed the letter from its envelope. “I had to smile,” he said. “This is the first time Hans has written more than a brief postscript on one of the other letters. And he wrote it in English, which is remarkably good, but it does make it sound quite formal.”

  He lifted the letter. “There’s some personal stuff first. He says that their garage is slowly prospering and that he hopes to hire his brother-in-law full time by the first of the year. And he also talks about their little girl. He’s very much the proud papa. But overall, it sounds like in spite of the hardships in Germany right now, Hans and Emilee are doing pretty well.”

  Adelia turned to Edie. “Alisa, or Lisa, as they call her, is just starting to walk and babble, even though she’s barely nine months old. Hans is convinced she is the brightest and most intelligent baby in all of Bavaria, if not all of Europe.”

  “Yes,” Jacob agreed. “He brags about her shamelessly. But I’ll skip all that and get to the part about the play. Here’s what he says:

  “‘It is with most regret I inform you that the town council of Oberammergau confirmed to my father that presentation of the Passion Play has been postponed until summer 1922. This is much disappointing but I think it is wise decision. The economy is recovering some from the war, but it is still slow. A major reason is our Fatherland still suffers much from giving up railroads to France and England and Belgium as part of hated Versailles Treaty. We have good harvest across most of Germany this year, but there are not enough trains necessary to transport food to cities. Food now rots in fields while people in large cities face starving another winter.’”

  Mitch was shaking his head. “How tragic.”

  “And what a travesty that the Allied Powers won’t bend on this,” Jacob agreed. He continued:

  “‘To more complicate matters, Allied Powers are presenting bill for German war reparations to government April of next year. There is much anger and great bitterness to our government leaders over the treaty. So more political unrest next summer is likely. We have not had fighting in streets since 1919, but we may see it again next year. Not good if you are here during such bad times.’”

  “I’ll say not,” Edie exclaimed. “If that’s the case, I’m glad we can’t go next year.” She looked at Jacob. “But will it be any better the year after that?”

  Jacob chuckled. “Hans must have heard your question. Let me read you his next paragraph:

  “‘I am guessing that now you are shaking all your heads and wondering if it is good that you come at all. But I say it is good. Here is why. First, even though the Fatherland has many challenges, things are improving slowly, slowly. Experts are saying 1922 will see economics much better here. If so, this reduces much resentment and people will not be running out into streets to make trouble. So it should be much safer in 1922.’”

  “That makes sense,” Mitch broke in.

  “I like that, assuming his predictions are correct,” Edie agreed.

  Jacob shrugged again. “And even if they’re not, we don’t have to book anything until next summer, when we’ll have a better idea of what is happening.” He went on with the letter.

  “‘Second, because of our money trouble, the government is anxious for hard currency and foreign monies. Dollars will be much welcomed by our people. Many Germans know President Woodrow Wilson refused signing of Versailles Treaty because he believed it too harsh. So Americans will be very welcomed if they come to Germany now. They will pat you on the back instead of throwing rocks at you.’”

  “This is sounding better all the time, don’t you think?” Adelia asked of Mitch and Edie. They both nodded vigorously.

  “‘Lastly, there is good financial benefit to you. As part of economic challenges we face here, our currency is weakening against the British pound, the French franc, and the U.S. dollar. For example, in 1914, one dollar could buy 4.2 marks. Now, one dollar can buy 39.5 marks.’”

  “Whoa!” Mitch exclaimed. “So it’s gone up almost ten times?”

  Edie turned to Jacob. “You’re the banker. That’s not good, right?”

  “No,” he said, “not for the Germans. But for us, it’s just the opposite. Our dollars are worth much more.”

  “If it’s gone up that much since ’14,” Mitch asked, “how much more by ’22, do you think?”

  “No way to say for sure, but if the economy starts improving, then inflation will probably stabilize too.”

  Jacob folded the letter and placed it back in the envelope. “That’s all he says about the trip, but his timing was good. One of the things we were going to talk with you about while you were here was our travel plans. They expect huge crowds at the play and we want to book early. But now we have another year before we need to do that.”

  “I’m glad,” Edie said. “I’ve been worried about going from the first. This sounds so much better to me.”

  “And to me,” Adelia said.

  “I agree, disappointing as it is,” Jacob said. “The rest of Hans’s letter talks about something else he’s excited about.” He turned to Mitch. “Do you remember that night we stayed with them up in Munich? Emilee was still pregnant then and went to bed early, and we stayed up a long time and talked about things with Hans?”

  “I do,” Mitch said. “He talked about how he was looking for something in his life that was significant.”

  “Well, he seems to have found it. He’s joined a small political party there in Munich that’s he’s quite excited about. He’s joined an army friend who is the leader of the party now.”

  “Show hi
m the picture,” Adelia said with a broad smile. “Mitch will particularly love it.”

  Jacob picked the envelope up again and looked inside. “Ah, yes. Here it is.”

  Adelia explained, “I thought you would especially enjoy this, Mitch, because Jacob told me how much you detest Lederhosen.”

  “I don’t detest them,” he countered, “I just don’t like them. I don’t want to see men’s bony knees and hairy legs.”

  Highly amused, Jacob reached over and handed the photo to Mitch. “Then take a look at this.”

  It was a black-and-white photo with three people standing on a lakeshore, with pine-covered mountains in the background. In the center of the picture was Emilee, holding a little girl in her arms. Both she and the girl wore a Dirndl, the traditional dress for women and girls in Bavaria. On each side of Emilee was a man dressed in Lederhosen. The one on her right was Hans, with a somewhat foolish grin on his face. The other man was a little shorter than Hans and had dark hair, dark eyes, and a mustache on his upper lip. He was smiling too, though awkwardly.

  Edie pointed to the second man. “So this is his army friend?”

  “Yes,” Adelia said. “His name is Adolf Hitler.”

  “I guess I was lucky that I never got as far south on my mission as Bavaria,” Mitch said, “because, traditional or not, I think they look ridiculous.”

  “I guess I’m used to them,” Jacob replied, “but then, I served in Bavaria for almost a year.”

  Adelia snickered. “I’m with Mitch on this. I think they look silly. If I were Emilee, I would recommend to both of them that they don’t wear their Lederhosen to their party meetings. It could drastically affect their attendance.” She got to her feet. “I want to share some of what Inga and Paula wrote to us,” she said to Jacob, “but I need to check on the children and make sure they’re still asleep.”

  He quickly got up and motioned for her to sit down again. “I’ll do that, dear. You go ahead.”

  As he walked out, Adelia settled in again. “I won’t read their letters to you because they both wrote in German. But both of them were very upbeat and shared all kinds of interesting news about the Church in Germany.”