Fire and Steel, Volume 3

by Gerald N. Lund

  Hans nodded, and without another word he went into the bathroom and shut the door.

  Chapter Notes

  Shirer summarized what happened following the big meeting at the Kindl Keller: “In two special meetings of the party, Hitler dictated his peace terms. The statutes were changed to abolish the committee and give him dictatorial powers as president. The humiliated Drexler was booted upstairs as honorary president, and he soon passed out of the picture” (Rise and Fall, 45–46).

  About this time, though it probably didn’t happen in the meeting where the committee capitulated, what came to be known as the Nazi salute was introduced. In 1926, the Heil Hitler salute became compulsory for party members, and it was fully adopted in all of Germany in the early 1930s as a sign of total allegiance to the Führer and the Nazi Party (see https://sdrblog8.wordpress.com/2013/05/01/the-origin-of-hitlers-salute-and-how-it-was-used-in-hitlers-germany).

  August 9, 1921, 12:18 p.m.—Eckhardt residence

  “Lisa. Come, come! Vati is waiting.”

  “Einen Moment, Mutti. I get Magda.”

  “No, Alisa! You can’t take your doll to the park. She’ll get dirty. Come now. We have to go. Vati is waiting for us.”

  “But, Mutti—” It was a pained wail.

  Emilee sighed that sigh that only parents ever fully master.

  Frieda Fromme got up from the couch and went over to the door where Alisa was standing. She took her hand. “I will take care of Magda, Lisa. Would you like me to give her a cookie while you are gone?”

  Her face lit up. “Ja, Oma. Danke.” And with that she climbed into the pram and settled back.

  Emilee came over and gave her mother a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Mama. Keep telling me that if I can just survive until she turns three, then things will get better.”

  “They do. And I’m sorry, but it serves you right. I see you in her every day.”

  “Thanks, Mama. That’s just what I needed.” She went to the pram and pushed it to the door and then stopped. “We won’t be much more than an hour. Why don’t you take a nap? Heinz-Albert is reading a book, so the house should be quiet.”

  “I think I will. I didn’t sleep very well last night.”

  Emilee wasn’t surprised. That was becoming a frequent pattern with her mother lately. She raised a hand in farewell. “Auf Wiedersehen.”

  12:33 p.m.—Eckhardt Garage and Truck Repair, Schleissheimerstrasse 271, Munich

  As usual, once Emilee reached Schleissheimerstrasse there was a steady stream of cars and trucks moving in both directions, so she stayed on the east side of the street as she turned south. Hans had warned her many times that people rarely stopped for pedestrians. So unless she actually needed to take something to him, she always stayed on the east side and let him brave the crossing and come to her.

  As she stopped across from the garage, she saw that there was only one vehicle inside today, a small delivery truck with a canvas-­covered back. At first she didn’t see anyone inside. Then a tall, lanky figure stepped out into the sunshine and waved. “Guten Tag, Emilee,” Ernst called. “Guten Tag, Alisa.”

  Delighted that he had seen her, Alisa waved gaily to him. “Guten Tag, Onkel Ernst. I going to the park.”

  “I know. Have a good time.”

  “I will. Danke.”

  As their exchange finished, Emilee heard angry voices coming from the garage, but she could see no one. She cupped her hand to her mouth. “Where is Hans?” she called.

  Ernst jerked a thumb over his shoulder and held up one hand sideways and cupped it so as to mimic the head of a dog. Then he wiggled his fingers up and down so that it looked like the dog was barking at someone. A moment later, Hans came out from behind the truck. A shorter man was right behind him, waving his arms and shouting at him. With the traffic noise, Emilee couldn’t hear the words, but there was no mistaking the mood. The man, whom she assumed was the truck’s owner, was angry and letting Hans know it in no uncertain terms. Emilee had to laugh. He did somewhat resemble a barking dog.

  As they reached the garage doors, Hans finally spun around and confronted the guy. One hand came up and he shook his finger in the customer’s face. Then, seeing a clearing in the traffic, he bolted across the four lanes of traffic, dodging vehicles as he went. For a moment, Emilee thought the customer was going to follow him, but the man stopped at the curb, still hollering and shaking his fist.

  “Vati!” Alisa cried as Hans reached them. She held out her arms, waving for him to pick her up. Instead, he bent down and gave her a peck on the forehead and took the pram handles from Emilee’s hands. “Let’s get out of here,” he said, and he started away.

  Emilee fell in beside him. “What? You kiss our daughter but you have nothing for me?”

  Hans frowned and then bent in and pecked her cheek too.

  “Oh, that was tender.”

  But Hans was watching as the man climbed into the truck, started the engine, and backed out of the bay without checking the traffic. Two cars honked and had to swerve around him. As the truck started forward, moving in the same direction they were walking, the man stuck his head out of the window and yelled something in their direction. Because of the noise, Emilee didn’t catch what it was, but she guessed that was probably just as well.

  “Same to you,” Hans shouted.

  Emilee watched the truck as it quickly disappeared into the distance. “What was that all about?”

  “Nothing.” Then he snorted in disgust. “A disagreement over the bill.”

  “Oh?”

  “Ja. He’s angry because his bill was about fifteen percent higher than the figure on my estimate. But I had told him that my estimate might change depending on what parts I had to buy and how much they have gone up in price. As it turned out, he needed a carburetor, and it was almost double what it cost a few weeks ago. So he’s throwing a fit. And I don’t blame him for getting upset. This inflation is making us all upset. But when he started calling me a liar, a cheat, and a thief, that’s when I lost my temper.”

  Alisa turned in her stroller. “I wanna go to the park, Vati. Can we go to the park?”

  Hans’s countenance instantly softened. “Yes, Lisa. We’re going to the park, and you and Mutti and I are going to have a picnic together.”

  She raised both arms in the air. “Yay!” Then she turned to her mother. “I walk, Mutti? Please?”

  “If you hold on to Papa’s hand and don’t let go.”

  “Better yet,” Hans said, scooping Alisa up out of the pram and plopping her on his shoulders, “how about riding up here?”

  “Yay!” she cried again.

  Emilee took the stroller from them and fell in behind Hans. “So what does he do for a living?”

  “Who?”

  “That man who just left.”

  “Oh. He delivers groceries to people. I mean, I don’t blame the poor guy. Most of his customers are on a fixed income, so he can’t pass the increases on to them very easily. I told him he’s going to have to, or else he’ll be going out of business.” He shook his head and sighed. “I tried to explain what is happening right now, but the concept of an inflationary spiral went right over his head. He kept asking me why the banks don’t stop people from raising their prices.”

  “How bad is it now?”

  “Bad. But let’s talk about something else, or I’ll just get mad all over again. Fritzie came by for a little while this morning. Said Liliya wants us to come to dinner sometime.”

  “I would like that.” Emilee slipped one arm through his. “How are they doing with prices going up all the time?”

  “They’re struggling a little. Eating out is getting to be a bit of a luxury, so they’re getting only half of the customers they were getting in the spring.”

  “When will it end?” Emilee asked gloomily.

  There was no answer to th
at, and Hans didn’t try to give one.

  12:49 p.m.—Neighborhood park, Milbertshofen District

  “Push me, Vati!” Alisa called as she dropped what was left of her sandwich into her mother’s lap and took off for the swings.

  “Not right now, Liebchen,” Hans called. “I need to talk to Mutti for a few minutes. You go play in the sandbox.”

  To his surprise, that was an acceptable alternative, and Alisa immediately changed directions. Hans lay out on the grass and put an arm across his eyes to block what sunlight was filtering through the leaves of the trees. “I thought your mother was coming with you,” he said.

  “She was going to, but she was too tired. Again. I hope she’s taking a nap.” Emilee stretched out beside him. “Paula called this morning. She heard from Bruder and Schwester Westland.”

  Hans grunted and rolled onto his side, removing his arm so he could look at her. His brows furrowed. “Why do you insist on calling them Bruder and Schwester? Mama and Paula are not turning you into a Mormon, are they?”

  Taken aback by his sudden gruffness, Emilee reared back. “I call them that because that’s what your mother and your aunt call them.” Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t bark at me just because you’re still mad at that guy.”

  “Sorry. You’re right. Go ahead. So are they still coming next year, I hope? Tickets for the play go on sale on the first of Sep­tember. Mama and Ilse are going to be the first in line so they can get them really good seats, and we’ll need to know exactly how many to get.”

  “Oh, they’re coming, and they gave Paula their itinerary. It’s pretty well firmed up now. I can’t remember all the dates, but here’s how it’s going to work. They’ll all come over on the boat together from America, docking in Hamburg. At that point, Bruder—uh, Herr Reissner—”

  “Just call him Jacob. That’s what I do.”

  “Well, Jacob will take a train from Hamburg to Berlin, where he plans to spend a week at the university doing research for his thesis. In the meantime, the Westlands and Frau Reissner will take a train to Mannheim.”

  “Where Frau Westland’s grandmother was born, right?”

  “Actually,” Emilee explained, “her Oma was born in Bern, Switzerland, but after she was married, she moved with her husband to a little village outside of Mannheim. But yes, that’s why they’re going there. From there, they’ll take the train to Füssen, where they’ll see the various castles. They will spend a couple of days there, then come on over to Oberammergau. They will get to Oberammergau on Wednesday, July twelfth, and we’ll all go out to your parents’ farm. Thursday will be a day for the kids to get to know each other, then they go to the play on Friday. So that’s the day you’ll need to buy tickets for.”

  “Have you got all this written down?”

  “Yes, at home. I’m just giving you an idea of their plans. Jacob will come down from Berlin on Tuesday and stay with Wolfie and Paula overnight, then he’ll go down with us and Paula so that we’re all there in Oberammergau when our guests arrive.”

  “And how long are they staying? Is Jacob still planning to do research here in Munich?”

  “Yes. On Sunday, after we have dinner at your mother’s, he’ll come back up here with us and Paula while the Westlands and Frau Reissner spend a week in Austria and Switzerland. Then they come back to Munich, pick up Jacob, take a train to Hamburg, and from there return to America. They’ll be here for about five weeks altogether.”

  Emilee took a quick breath, trying to think what she had missed. “Oh, and you might find this interesting. The Reissners and the Westlands are taking separate ships back to America.”

  “Really?”

  “The Westlands have a son, Frank, who’s attending a university in Boston. They’re going to stop and see him for a couple of days on their way home.”

  That caught Hans’s attention. “Not Harvard?”

  “Oh, no. It’s some technological school. He’s studying physics.”

  Hans’s eyes widened. “You’re not talking about the Massa­chusetts Institute of Technology, surely?”

  “Ja, ja. That’s it. They said he was given a full-ride scholarship there, whatever that means.”

  “That means they pay all of his tuition, books, and living expenses. That’s incredible. MIT, as they call it, is considered one of the premier scientific and technology schools in the world. How did a kid from a cow ranch get a scholarship there? I would have given the skin off my back to have gone there.”

  Emilee shrugged. “Why don’t you ask them about it while they’re here?”

  “I will.” Then he had another thought. “Did Paula tell the Reissners that we would be very pleased to have Jacob stay with us for that week he’s in Munich?”

  “She did, but he’ll stay with Paula and Wolfie. They live so much closer to the university than we do, and that’s where he’s going to spend most of his time.”

  “I’m hoping I can spend some time with Jacob,” Hans said. “We became good friends when I was at the Von Kruger Academy, and then when they were here a couple of years ago, we became close all over again.”

  “I am so impressed with both men,” Emilee agreed. “I’m very anxious to meet their wives.”

  As she settled back, Hans was studying her closely. “Do you wish you were going with them?”

  That momentarily startled her. “For five weeks? No.”

  “Not that. To the Passion Play.”

  “Oh. Of course I do. You grew up near Oberammergau, so it’s no big deal to you, but I’ve heard about the play all my life and I’ve always wanted to go.”

  “You never told me that.”

  “You never asked. How many times have you been?”

  “Only once.”

  “Once? When you lived just five miles away?”

  “Well, remember, they only put it on every ten years. In 1900, I was only four, but I did see it in 1910. And this is the first one since then.”

  “And was it incredible?”

  Hans half-shrugged. “The production is pretty amazing. I mean, the stage is big enough that you have Roman soldiers riding through on their horses, and Jesus is crucified on a full-sized cross. I remember wondering how they made it look like they were really nailing His hands to the cross. And how he could just hang up there for the longest time. But. . . .” He shrugged again.

  “But what?”

  “That was the summer before I left for the Von Kruger Academy. I was kind of struggling at that point about what I believed, I guess. I think I went hoping to get some kind of confirmation or inspiration or something.”

  “And you didn’t?”

  “Not really. It was wonderful. I’d heard about it all my life, of course, but to me it was just a wonderful stage play. That’s all.”

  When Emilee said nothing, Hans looked over toward the sandbox to check on Alisa.

  And that reminded Emilee of something else. She sat up and got her purse from the pram. She opened it, fished in it for a moment, and came up with a black-and-white photograph. “I forgot. This came in the mail this morning with a brief note from Frau Westland. It’s a picture of both families at the Westlands’ cattle ranch in Utah.” She handed it across to him.

  Hans immediately smiled as he looked at it. “Look at that. It’s just like the pictures you see in magazines. Even the kids look like real cowboys.” He pointed. “Saddles on the fence. Horses in the corral. Barn in the background. You sure they didn’t stage this just for us?”

  Emilee leaned over and pointed. “Those are the Westland twins. Abby and Benji are their names. You did remember that the Westlands are bringing them with them?”

  His head came up. “Did I know that? How old are they again?”

  “Six now, but they’ll be seven next year. Aren’t they cute?”

  He nodded. Just then, Alisa came running over. “Vati, come
push me.”

  Hans laughed. “All right, little one. You go over and find a swing and I’ll be right there.” He got to his feet and pulled Emilee up. He bent in and gave her a quick kiss. “Love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  “How much?”

  She cocked her head to one side. “Do you have to ask?”

  “Do you think you could love me any more than you do right now?”

  She laughed softly. “I don’t think so. Why?”

  “Oh,” Hans said with a casual toss of his head, “I just wondered if it would make a difference if I told you that when I buy the tickets for the Passion Play, I’m buying a few extras.”

  Emilee gasped. “Really? How many? Who are they for?”

  “Well,” he drawled, “I’m getting four. One for Mama. She would never say it, but I know that she really wants to be with them at the play. She and Papa have never been, if you can believe that.”

  “Not ever?”

  “No. Remember, we’re dairy people, and the play is a huge financial boost for the whole valley. We furnish a lot of milk, butter, and cheese to the hotels and restaurants while the play is on, so Mama and Papa always had to stay and see that it got done.”

  “I see. So who else?”

  “I’m getting two for Paula and Wolfie. They’ve never seen it either.”

  “And one for me?” Emilee squealed.

  “Yep.”

  She started to throw her arms around him but then stopped. “You’d better not be teasing me about this, Hans Eckhardt. Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

  He chuckled softly. “What? And miss all this fun?”

  She threw herself at him, plastering his face with kisses.

  “Okay, okay,” he laughed. “Your daughter is watching. I’ll be back in a little while.”

  But as he started to turn away, Emilee grabbed his hand. “One more minute. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something else. Alisa can wait.”