by Paul Grant
Marz turned to look at me like there was a momentous thought of his own running through his head. ‘Schram’s right,’ he said. ‘I want you to have mine.’
I had to shake my head to comprehend what I was hearing. I was beginning to wonder if there was something in the air of that freezing bunker.
‘Schram and I are just young kids. We’d only waste the ten days swimming in beer,’ Marz said.
‘Speak for yourself,’ Schram said.
‘Well, I would anyway. It’s yours, Sarg.’
He held out the scrap of paper to me. The piece of paper was worthless in itself, but what it opened up seemed like a whole new world, an opportunity that had made me shake slightly when I thought about. I looked around the bunker. The men appeared happy for me. Even Wiebke had stopped scowling, but maybe that was because Marz wouldn’t be the one going on leave. I wondered, momentarily, if I could leave the two of them without them killing each other. The thought didn’t last long.
‘I don’t know what to say, Oskar.’
‘Don’t say anything. Just pack your kit before I change my mind,’ he said with an impish grin.
CHAPTER 4
NOVEMBER 1942, BERLIN
Unexpected as it was, I’d not had time to forewarn Maria of my leave. The flight and then the long train journey had given me the opportunity to sleep. I dreamt a lot and some of my dreams disturbed me. Soldiers never admitted it, but returning home unannounced raised niggling worries. These concerns never really surfaced when you were in action, under fire; there were bigger priorities. However, when you had time to brood, the doubts loomed. Those doubts jostled the sane, rational thoughts aside. It couldn’t be helped. The strains of war shortened lives. It heightened the need to live for the moment, because you might not be around the next day. Whatever the letters from home said, one only had to listen to some of the shocking stories of the men returning from leave to start an unhealthy fretting process. I had to tell myself on more than one occasion that it was stupid of me to think of Maria in the same way.
Our train was subject to endless delays caused by air raids. By the time we’d reached the eastern suburbs of Berlin and we started to see some of the bomb damage, I knew we were coming home to a city different to the one I’d left in the Spring of 1941. I could see Lichtenberg had taken some relatively serious damage. There were murmurs up and down the carriage. The men were thinking about their loved ones and their well-being. I was especially; Lichtenberg was home. When I was at the front, I always thought how Maria was coping with a baby and Ulrich with all the rationing and the rest, but bombing was another factor. As soldiers, we all knew about being under artillery fire, but the bombing of civilian population didn’t seem right to me. God knows we’d seen the Russian population suffer at the hands of our Stukas so, as a nation, we couldn’t complain now the enemy was paying us back on our own doorstep. Looking on Berlin now, I was beginning to realise what might have been behind those blacked out lines in Maria’s letters.
Now we were back in Berlin we wanted to be off the train. The further delays were killing us. We’d had enough of the uncertainty, and so close to home, we couldn’t wait any longer. At last we reached Anhalter station, and before we’d even completely stopped, men threw backpacks from the train and landed on the run. There was no time to be lost. The ten-day ticket each man held would soon be expired. The men with the dog-chains round their necks would be knocking on our doors soon enough and we all knew the military police were not to be trifled with.
The arrival platform was chaotic. Some news of our train’s arrival must have reached Berlin, as there were women and children thronging the main concourse searching for loved ones. The place was a maelstrom of emotions; anxiety, joy and frustration flooded up and down the platform in equal measure. Everything had a tag, luggage and mail trolleys alike. There were even children with labels around their necks, presumably for evacuation. At least I knew Maria wouldn’t have let Ulrich be evacuated to a KLV camp.
All the commotion was hard to bear and I had to be free of it. Somewhere in the rush, I lost Meissner. I would see him soon enough. My only thought was to get off that platform and then I was heading for one place, and that was home. The thought warmed me through.
***
I need not have worried. To my intense relief, the apartment block on Schott Strasse was still there. It was still grimy and dull, and except for a few more posters urging the tired, hungry, hollow-faced populace to even greater efforts, it was the same. Something else was the same. In spite of all my pathetic concerns and feeble nightmares, Maria remained my one bright, unwavering light. She shrouded my other impressions of Berlin after so long away; those of the rank bad breath and body odour of the S-Bahn, those of the expressionless people going about their business as if there was no war here. At that moment, I could have kissed Oskar Marz for his impetuous moment of generosity. A mere glimpse of her was enough to know those ten days would be heavenly.
I pushed on the apartment door, unsure what to expect. There in the hallway was a small girl, a toddler with two big, bold blue eyes staring back at me, her hand against the wall for stability. The little girl cried out. It was a friendly shriek, but it alerted her mother, nonetheless. It took me an eternity to realise the child was Eva, no longer a baby, but now taking her first, uncertain steps. Before I did comprehend, Maria was there.
‘What is it, Evie?’ she said.
I cannot imagine how I looked to Maria, but she looked as I’d always remembered her, exuding purpose, love, humility, and truly beautiful. We met each other half way down the hallway, my pack discarded by the open door. Everything seemed to flood out, all the emotion at the months of our separation, the constant threat of death hanging over us. In that moment, it had all gone, rendered irrelevant.
‘My God, you have come home to us,’ Maria gasped.
She was pushing me away for a moment. In the laughter and the tears, I realised Eva was trapped between our legs. Maria scooped her up, and the little girl turned to look at me, slightly confused by the unkempt and none too clean uniformed visitor.
‘Your Papa came home, Eva. Just look at him.’
Eva reached out and touched my bristly chin. I lifted my hand to hers and she gripped my thumb, her bowl-like eyes pulling me in. I took her from Maria and lifted her up to examine her. ‘She’s absolutely thriving, Maria.’
‘She sleeps like a dream, even down in the shelter,’ Maria said. ‘How long have we got?’
‘Ten days,’ I said.
Maria closed her eyes, no doubt thinking about the painful farewell to come. She shook her head, as if to lose her thoughts, and buried herself into my chest. ‘You’re here now and that’s all that matters.’
‘Where’s Uli?’ I said, looking on into the apartment.
‘He’s in the queue at Horch’s. Go and find him,’ she said, with obvious excitement in her voice.
I hesitated a moment, not wanting to leave Maria and Eva so soon after arriving home.
‘Go Klaus. We’ll still be here when you get back.’ Her eyes implored me and I didn’t need any more encouragement. I quickly handed Eva back and then promptly stumbled over my pack on the way out. I turned to check I hadn’t imagined it all. Maria was laughing at me, even Eva’s cheeks were bunched up in a cheeky grin. The war was all but forgotten.
***
The queue emanating from Heinrich Horch’s nearly reached the Kneipe on Alfred Strasse. I could only imagine good meat was scarcer than when I was last in Berlin. People eyed me suspiciously as I went down the line. They needn’t have worried; I wasn’t attempting to seek any advantage in the quest for the best meat rations. My only wish was to locate my son. I found him by the doorway, close to the counter. His back was still to me, but I knew it was my boy, his mop of fair hair the same as ever.
‘Do you think there’ll be enough for Papa too?’ I said, awaiting the reaction.
He tensed for a moment then his head turned in an instant, probably not sure
what he’d heard. His eyes widened in realisation, then he flew towards me and was up in my arms before I could move. In spite of the rationing he’d shot up in my absence. I threw my arms around him, to stop him from falling more than anything, but once he was secure, I swung him around and around, not caring about the gawping queue of Berlin housewives.
‘Papa! Papa!’
‘It’s really me, Uli.’
He pulled his head off my chest, his eyes wide in awe, ‘Where’s your Iron Cross, Papa? Did you bring it?’
I’d forgotten about the medals. They were not something I thought about. ‘They’re in my pack back at the apartment.’
He slid down out of my arms and started to pull me back towards home, ‘Come on! Let’s go back so you can show me. All my friends at school know about them. They’ll be really jealous. Nobody else’s Papa has an Iron Cross First Class. Come on, Papa!’
‘Hold on, Uli. What about the queue? Your mother will be expecting the rations. Come on, back in the line,’ I said.
No sooner had I said it than a thick set woman in her forties stepped forward, ‘I’m afraid the boy left the queue. It’s not allowed for people to leave the queue and re-join it.’
It took me a while to comprehend what I was hearing; after all, I was still on a high at seeing Ulrich. By the time I’d realised what the woman had said, I recognised her as our Blockwarte (Block warden), Ina Stinnes. We’d clashed in the past.
‘Frau Stinnes, what a pleasure to see you again,’ I said, laying it on thick. ‘My boy here had just left the queue momentarily to welcome me back from the front.’ I wasn’t usually one to garner sympathy, but I didn’t mind it when I was shaming people like her.
As it turned out, her rather ample frame wasn’t to be budged. ‘That’s not the point. There are rules. Anybody could walk into the queue.’ Then she narrowed her eyes and with real menace in her voice said, ‘Such behaviour should be reported.’
I didn’t take kindly to her suggestion. I looked up and down the queue at the faces and noticed most of them had turned away, suddenly disinterested, not wanting to be involved. The people were sullen, down-trodden, not like the Berliners I knew before the Nazis. I did wonder what type of Germany we were fighting for.
‘Now, look here, Ulrich left the queue for good reason...’
‘What’s the problem here?’ The ruddy faced Heinrich Horch filled the doorway, arms folded. ‘Well, if it’s not Klaus Schultz.’ He shook my hand vigorously and slapped me on the shoulder.
‘Hello Heini. Business looks good...’ I flicked my eyes down the line.
He grimaced dramatically. ‘Many customers, Klaus, but limited stock, I’m afraid. So, what’s the hold up here?’
‘Ulrich was in the queue, but one of your customers objected when he left it to greet his Father after eighteen months on the Eastern Front.’
‘What? I don’t believe it!’ He winked at me. ‘Who would do such a thing to one of our heroes, one of our boys hot from the action?’ Heinrich turned to face the line, running his eyes up and down. His gaze stopped pointedly on Ina Stinnes. She pursed her lips and scowled, but for once she was shamed into saying nothing.
‘Nobody? Good. That’s that sorted then. Now, let’s see what we have left for our homecoming hero, shall we?’ he said, rubbing Ulrich’s head affectionately.
He forced Ulrich into the shop before him and straight up to the counter. I turned to look at the spiteful, Ina Stinnes. Her eyes were brim-full of hatred.
CHAPTER 5
NOVEMBER 1942, BERLIN
From the moment we arrived back home, in spite of her obvious happiness of my unexpected return, I knew there was something bothering Maria. There were the small signs of strain; the way the kids were rushed off to bed, even if Ulrich wouldn’t sleep in the excitement. With the kids eventually asleep, it didn’t take me long to find out that a lot had happened during my absence.
Our neighbours directly opposite were the Steins. Our kids had grown up together, at least Ulrich and Oliver had, and Rachael was Maria’s best friend. They’d even had kids at the same time. Michael was older than Rachael, by around ten years. He was a good man, a veteran of the First War. He’d always given me sound advice, especially when I first went off to war. In those days in Berlin, you were close to your neighbours. We even shared a tin bath.
The arrival of the Nazis brought new ideas, or old ideas rehashed. The fact that Rachael and Michael were Jewish was never an issue to me or Maria. In some ways, the Nazis’ policies actually brought us closer together, but the advent of the Nuremburg Laws and its ever-restricting successors, made life increasingly onerous for Berlin’s Jews. In my absence, the fate of the Steins, and many others like them, had taken another turn for the worse.
After the journey home and the emotional excitement of the day, I was ready for bed. For a man returning to his wife after so long, there were other, more pleasurable things on my mind. Unfortunately for me, these thoughts were not shared by Maria.
It was with a very grave face she sat down opposite me looking a mite uncomfortable. ‘Klaus, there is something I have to tell you.’
It was my turn to feel discomfort as my thoughts immediately flashed to the men with the tales of unfaithful wives on the home front. My mouth went as dry as the summer on the Russian Steppe. Maria didn’t notice it, and once again, I should have given her more credit.
‘Rachael and Michael have gone, Klaus.’
It took me a while to adjust, in which time I managed a dumb question. ‘What do you mean “gone”?’
Maria gave me that look that said I should have known what she had meant, then gave up. ‘I mean they’ve been forced out of their apartment.’
‘Oh.’ I must have sounded uncaring, but it was only because I hadn’t been thinking straight.
‘These are our friends, Klaus. Remember them?’
Eventually I found my feet. ‘Yes...yes, of course. That’s terrible, Maria. Where are they now?’
I noted, from an early stage, Maria avoided the question. ‘Things are much worse here for the Jews now. Did you see the yellow stars stitched on their clothes, Klaus? They’ve been rounding them up and sending them “East”, whatever that might mean.’
My stomach sank at Maria’s words, and she didn’t fail to notice.
‘What is it, Klaus?’
‘And were they...resettled?’ I used the euphemism we’d been fed.
‘Resettled? You sound like a propaganda film, Klaus. What does it actually mean? I’ve heard these people are being shot when they arrive in Poland or wherever they are taken.’ She squeezed on my hand and looked me right in the eye, ‘Is it true, Klaus?’
I avoided her gaze, not because I knew, but because I didn’t want to believe it. ‘I cannot imagine that’s the case. They wouldn’t do that to Germans. I mean Michael has an Iron Cross, Maria. They don’t do...’
‘They don’t do what? Burn synagogues. Murder people. Do you know how many Jewish people committed suicide when they were given those transportation notices?’
I was quiet. We’d seen partisans rounded up and shot. In fact, we’d taken part in the actions against them, but they deserved everything they got. As for the Jews, I’d heard similar rumours to Maria. I knew men who’d seen photographs of mass shootings of women and children taken by soldiers. I didn’t want to believe it.
‘Come on, Klaus. What is it?’
‘Well, I haven’t actually seen anything, but I’ve heard similar things to you. But they’re only rumours, Maria.’
‘So it’s true then?’ she said.
I grabbed both her hands now, more in desperation than anything. ‘Maria, you can’t talk about these things. It’s dangerous.’
Her eyes flashed full of anger, ‘Dangerous? It was dangerous for Rachael and Michael. Believe me.’
‘What happened to them?’
‘They fled.’
‘What do you mean “fled”?’
‘The Gestapo came for them two weeks ag
o, well more precisely the auxiliaries from the Synagogue. The Nazis even get the Jews to do their dirty work. It’s disgusting. They were given a neatly typed list of items to take, all polite and official.’
‘But?’
Maria wasn’t to be rushed. She wanted me to share her revulsion, or more likely she wanted to avoid telling me what really happened for a bit longer. ‘I was out with Eva. I saw them start the arrests on the next block. Something in me snapped. I went back and urged Rachael to go, pleaded with her. She ran, taking the children, before they came to the apartment.’
‘Do you know where they are?’ I asked.
Maria didn’t answer again.
‘I asked you a question, Maria.’
‘I got a message to Michael whilst he was at the factory, so he didn’t go home. I’ve been taking them food.’
I closed my eyes, not really surprised.
‘What else do you expect me to do, Klaus? They’re our friends.’
It was Maria all over. ‘Okay. How long do you think you can keep feeding a whole family?’
‘That’s bloody typical of you, Klaus. You’re beginning to sound like one of them. Then again, you are fighting for them.’
‘That’s not fair, Maria. Everyone has to do their bit. I’m fighting for my country. We talked about that already.’
Maria stopped herself. ‘I’m sorry, Klaus. I didn’t mean that, but you must see that I have to help them, and I would do it again for others. We cannot do this to them, as a people. It’s not right.’
‘I know, Maria, I know,’ I said, placing my hands on hers.
‘That’s not everything,’ Maria said, looking like she had more confessions to make.
‘Go on.’