BERLIN: Reaping the Whirlwind (The Schultz family story Book 2)

by Paul Grant

  ‘This is true, Frau Schultz, yet “thousands of others” do not spend so much time asking questions, and pestering already hard-worked staff at Bendlerstrasse, do they?’

  So this is why they were here. Maria started to breathe a little more easily. The snooty old woman at Wehrmacht headquarters had warned her to drop her enquiries.

  ‘My husband fought hard for his country, Kriminalkommisar. I believe I have a right to know what happened to him.’

  ‘And you’ve been told what happened, on many occasions.’

  Maria wanted to tear into this man and tell him they were all liars, that the Golden Pheasants were nothing but crooks and swindlers. She wanted to tell him exactly what she thought, but she had to stop herself. She had to play the game.

  ‘It’s just so difficult to...accept.’

  Reitsch nodded understandingly. He touched his empty coat sleeve. ‘I was in Russia, too, like your late husband. I count myself very lucky to be here. I lost many good comrades. They were sons and fathers, too.’

  Maria nodded, actually feeling some sympathy for the man.

  ‘It’s time to move on, Frau Schultz. You need to drop your enquiries. It’s not helping you or your family.’

  The Kriminalkomissar got up to leave, nodding to his colleague. She followed them to the hallway; Reitsch’s colleague was already out of the door.

  She heaved a sigh of relief. They appeared to know nothing. Maria’s anger had started to wane when Reitsch suddenly turned at the doorway. He hissed, ‘This is just a friendly warning, Frau Schultz. I am sure you know the consequences if you continue to waste people’s time with your useless enquiries.’

  His smile was threatening, having lost all the apparent pretence of before.

  Maria Schultz felt her hackles rise. She could have punched the man right on the nose. She stood upright, looked him straight in the eye and nodded.

  There was no way she would give up her activities. Reitsch had only spurred her on.

  ***

  Ulrich walked fast, wiping the tears from his cheeks with his sleeve as he went. Nobody understood how he was feeling. None of them knew what he was thinking. He was sick of the war and just wanted it to end. It had taken everything he held precious. At first it had been fun, but that time was long gone.

  Out on the street it had been a warm day and the sun continued to beat down. Ulrich’s eyes were damp and his nose was running, but he didn’t care. He didn’t know where he was heading. He felt the need to shout, to let out that anger that constantly seemed to be inside him.

  ‘Ulrich!’ Günther was shouting, doing his best to catch up. ‘Slow down, will you?’

  Ulrich barely acknowledged his friend.

  Günther eventually caught up with him on the corner of the street. Ulrich had been forced to wait for a fire engine to pass, its sirens wailing. More fires to put out; gas pipes ruptured somewhere, no doubt. It was never-ending these days. The Tommies came almost every night without fail.

  ‘Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you.’

  Günther noticed he’d been crying. ‘You’re upset again. About your father?’

  ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

  ‘Dad said we can go up the tower again, if we like. Shall we do it tomorrow?’

  Ulrich still hadn’t looked at him. He shrugged indifferently. With the road clear, he kept up his pace, passing the Gothic, red-bricked town hall.

  ‘Hey! I am talking to you.’ Günther pulled on his shoulder.

  Ulrich spun around, his face full of anger. ‘I don’t want to go up the bloody stupid tower. Okay? Just leave me alone.’

  He set off walking again, leaving Günther standing.

  He wanted to be on his own.

  Ulrich thought he was alone, until he heard the shout. ‘Uli!’ Then, another shout, more urgent, ‘Uli!’

  Ulrich half-turned, causing him to walk straight into somebody. He rolled to the floor in the collision. ‘Sorry,’ he said, in shock.

  Dusting himself down, he got to his feet. His face drained when he looked up and realised who he had just bumped into.

  ‘You need to watch where you’re going, Schultz.’ Horst Stinnes stood in front of him, legs spread wide, dressed in the beige shirt and black shorts of the HJ. There were two others with him. One held a bucket, the other some rolled posters. It was the first time Ulrich had come face to face with Horst since the day he had beaten him up. He had dreaded the moment.

  Günther eventually got there, his eyes almost telling Ulrich he’d tried to warn him.

  ‘Hang on a minute, have you been crying?’

  Ulrich didn’t reply, he just rubbed his hand across his face, defensively.

  ‘He has, he’s been crying, boys.’

  Horst’s friends started to laugh.

  ‘You’re a baby, Schultz. You should be helping us put these posters up rather than snivelling.’

  Günther tried to get Ulrich to move on, away from the confrontation. ‘Come on, Uli, we have to go.’

  Ulrich shrugged him off, moodily. He could feel the anger rising in him. It was never far from the surface these days. He’d had enough of Horst Stinnes. He didn’t care what happened anymore.

  ‘You think it’s useful running around plastering lies all over the walls?’

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘You heard me, Stinnes. You’ve never done a worthwhile thing in your life.’

  Horst put down his dripping brush and moved towards Ulrich, smiling manically. He touched Ulrich’s chin. ‘Little Uli’s upset, oh dear.’

  Ulrich slapped his hand away.

  Again, Günther tried to stop things going any further. ‘Come on, Uli.’

  ‘Stay out of this, you!’ Horst snapped.

  He turned back to focus on Ulrich. ‘Still crying about daddy, are we?’

  Ulrich’s eyes narrowed.

  ‘He’s not coming back, little boy. You should get used to that.’ Horst prodded him hard in the chest. Ulrich staggered backwards. Horst’s friends were laughing, goading Ulrich. He looked around to see Günther had disappeared. He was on his own, but he didn’t care. He hated Stinnes with a passion and right now he wanted to kill him.

  The lumbering Horst bore down on him again. This time Ulrich was agile enough to avoid the swinging paw which came his way. Horst staggered slightly and Ulrich saw his chance. He swung his right foot with all his might and landed a forceful blow right between Horst’s legs.

  All the air was blown from Horst’s cheeks. His eyes watered in pain. Ulrich sensed his opportunity, screwed up his fist into a ball, and threw a punch which landed square on Horst’s nose. Ulrich felt it crunch under the force. He stood back in shock as the blood started to pour from Horst’s nose, covering his neatly pressed shirt.

  Horst Stinnes staggered. He put his hand to his face and then looked at the blood on his hand and his shirt. Ulrich knew he was in trouble now.

  ***

  Günther was panting at the door, making no sense.

  ‘Is it Uli?’ Maria asked, Eva in her arms.

  ‘You have to come quick.’ He took another deep breath. ‘Horst Stinnes.’ Günther started off back down the stairs.

  Maria closed the door behind her. She knew she had to go quickly. She’d seen the state of Ulrich last time the Stinnes boy had beaten him. She was more worried because she knew what Ulrich’s mood had been when he had stormed out of the apartment.

  ‘Helmi! Helmi!’ A couple of seconds later a head popped over the wooden balustrade. ‘Please could you look after Eva. I have to go. Ulrich’s in trouble.’

  ‘Right you are, dear.’ Helmi made her way down the steps and took Eva in her arms. ‘Whatever has happened?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Maria bounded down the stairs after Günther.

  ‘Thank you!’ she shouted over her shoulder.

  Out on the street, Maria struggled to keep Günther in her sights. People stopped and stared at a grown woman running. ‘What’s the rush?�
�� she heard more than once. There were some quips as she passed the line at Horch’s.

  ‘There’ll only be a queue when you get there, dear.’

  Everyone laughed, but Maria wasn’t in the mood for jokes.

  Günther was already close to the steps of the town hall, waving her over the road. In her haste, Maria narrowly avoided a lumbering truck as she crossed, resulting in a deep-throated honk from the angry-looking driver.

  ‘Over here!’ Günther shouted.

  Maria saw them. Horst Stinnes was standing over Ulrich, raining blows down on him. Her heart sank.

  ‘Stop!’ she yelled. ‘Stop, you bully!’

  Other people on the street were watching the fight, but nobody intervened. Horst Stinnes stopped and looked in her direction. She was shocked to see the blood on his face and shirt. She was ten metres from them now. The Stinnes boy started laughing, but his friends backed off on seeing her.

  ‘Look, mummy’s here to save you,’ he taunted. Horst didn’t see the punch coming. Ulrich swung hard connecting with Horst’s chin, putting him firmly on his backside. Ulrich was up in a shot with his hand above his head ready to strike again. Maria saw the brick in his hand.

  Horst lay stunned on the ground, spitting blood from his mouth, unaware of what was heading his way. Ulrich’s face was set in fury, ready to administer the final blow.

  ‘Uli, no!’ Maria was no more than two metres from them. Ulrich’s arm started to come down in an arc, the brick heading for Horst Stinnes’ temple. She knew she would be too late to stop him.

  Everything stood still for a second. Maria feared the worst. She was aware of a newspaper falling to the floor and a man catching Ulrich’s arm as it descended towards the defenceless Horst’s head.

  The brick fell from Ulrich’s grasp, narrowly missing its target. The man’s intervention had no doubt saved Horst. Maria pulled Ulrich away, his face swollen and bloodied, but not for a second ready to back down.

  She turned to thank the man. He had his back to her, retrieving his newspaper from the floor. She noticed the man only had one arm. When he turned, Maria was looking at the face of Kriminalkommisar Reitsch.

  CHAPTER 14

  JULY 1943, BERLIN

  Maria was late for her meeting with the Major. She was flustered. Since the incident with the Stinnes boy, Maria had kept Ulrich in the house for all but essential trips for supplies. She didn’t know what to do with him. It had been bad enough arguing the toss with Ina Stinnes in front of the whole street, but she’d had to explain Ulrich’s actions to Kriminalkommisar Reitsch. This was at a time when she really didn’t need to be drawing attention to herself. Of course, Reitsch had suggested the boy’s energies could be channelled in more fruitful ways, such as joining the HJ. That would happen over Maria’s dead body. She had to find a way to channel this anger into something positive, but first she had to drag him from the malaise over his father. She was at a loss to know what to do for the best.

  She spotted the Major sitting on a bench close to the Luiseninsel. He was reading a newspaper, seemingly enjoying the glorious weather. He smiled as she approached.

  ‘I am so sorry I’m late. I’ve had some problems at home.’

  The Major stood. ‘Don’t mention it. Let’s walk.’

  They headed into the Tiergarten, away from the crowds around the lake. The masses of trees shielded their backs from the warm sun. Maria mopped her brow. She felt herself calming down after the mad rush to make it there, falling in with her peaceful surroundings.

  ‘Is there something I can help you with at home?’

  Maria hesitated for a moment, wondering how much she should tell him about Ulrich, about Reitsch.

  ‘I am sure you have more important things to worry about.’

  ‘To worry about, yes, I suppose you’re right, but there’s little I can do to affect them. The war will take its course without me. So, tell me, what is it?’

  Maria told the Major about Ulrich and Horst Stinnes. She also told him about Reitsch’s visit and his intervention in the boys’ fight.

  ‘You need to be vigilant with Reitsch. It sounds like they know nothing, but you should stay away from Bendlerstrasse.’

  ‘I haven’t been back since I found out about Klaus.’

  ‘The Gestapo works on denunciation. Somebody somewhere makes a call, drops an anonymous letter.’

  Maria instantly thought of Ina Stinnes. She had to be more careful around the woman.

  The Major didn’t seem so concerned. ‘They are actually overwhelmed with such things. There are so many people out there willing to say things about their neighbours and so-called friends, most of it untrue. So, tell me about your boy.’

  Maria sighed. ‘I don’t know what to do, Major. I want desperately to tell him his father is alive, but how do I explain I know?’

  ‘Well, of course, you can’t tell him directly.’

  ‘That’s exactly what I mean...’

  ‘But that doesn’t mean somebody else can’t.’

  ‘Such as who?’

  The Major smiled. ‘Don’t worry. I will deal with it. Then at least you can put the poor boy’s mind at rest. That said, you should be aware your husband still has to survive the Soviet camps, and that is not guaranteed, by any means.’

  ‘Do you have any more news from the prisoners?’

  ‘Not for the moment, but Goebbels will have increasing difficulty maintaining the lie that there are no German prisoners in Russia. There is a huge battle going on around Kursk as we speak. It will not end positively for our forces. More and more prisoners are being taken. This cannot be hidden indefinitely.’

  Maria thought about the effect her news had had on the families she’d informed. She had given them hope, in a time when hope was in short supply. If Ulrich could receive similar news, it would alleviate the pain and anger he had been feeling.

  ‘I would be grateful for whatever you could do for him.’

  ‘Consider it done,’ the Major said. ‘Now, there’s somebody I would like you to meet.’

  ‘What, now?’

  The Major checked his watch. ‘She should be just taking her coffee around this time.’

  ‘Who are we meeting exactly?’

  The Major didn’t answer. He only pointed towards the huge camouflage nets which shrouded Charlottenburger Chaussee from the airborne raiders.

  ‘Is there something wrong with the work I’ve been doing?’

  ‘On the contrary, I am very pleased. Every little thing helps the cause.’

  ‘But?’

  He looked at her from the corner of his steel blue eyes and smiled slightly. ‘Perhaps there are other things to do.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  They emerged from the trees close to the Brandenburg Gate. The Major moved his newspaper from under his right arm to under his left, then turned back towards the north end of the park, parallel with Hermann-Göring Strasse. The sudden change of direction caught Maria by surprise and it took her a while to catch up with him.

  Within a matter of seconds, they were joined by a tall, thin, well-dressed woman. She had a long stride and Maria, by no means small herself, had problems keeping up with the two of them.

  ‘Maria, this is Fräulein Sommer.’

  Maria glanced to her side, but the woman’s gaze didn’t waver.

  ‘The Major tells me you can be trusted.’

  A little surprised by the curtness of the woman, Maria shot a quick glance at the Major. Again, there was the slight upturn of the mouth at the edges that Maria was getting accustomed to.

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Good. The work you have carried out has been appreciated, but there is more to do.’

  Maria nodded nervously, wondering where this was going.

  ‘Other people need our help, Maria. People who have nobody left, people who have been let down by our country.’

  Maria didn’t believe the slight pause in Fräulein Sommer’s words was a cue for her to speak.
r />   ‘Informing wives and parents that their sons are in Soviet captivity is one thing. It has its dangers, undoubtedly, but I would say there are other, more important tasks to be carried out.’

  Maria swallowed uneasily, but didn’t want to interrupt this no-nonsense woman.

  ‘Due to the policies of the government, the labour policies, transports to the east, concentration camps, extermination camps...’

  Maria looked at the Major for some reassurance. He wasn’t looking in her direction any more, only into the trees.

  ‘...there are people in Berlin who are in hiding. They can’t move during the day and tend only to move about at night. They need to eat to survive. These people do not exist as far as Germany is concerned. Nowhere to live, no rations, nothing. This is for good reason, of course, because if they did “exist”, they would be on the next transport east. You now know what that euphemism means?’

  The question must have been rhetorical because there was no pause for Maria to answer.

  ‘They follow their families to their deaths.’

  ‘You mean Jews?’

  ‘Jews, gypsies, communists, writers, clergy. Anybody who dares to speak out against the regime.’

  Maria thought of Rachael Stein. She shuddered at the thought of what had happened to her and her family.

  ‘You haven’t said what you’d like me to do.’

  ‘The most important thing is that you are willing to help. People are more interested in ways of ingratiating themselves with a local official by denouncing someone or other, usually someone close to them...’

  ‘Fräulein Sommer, I live in Berlin. I see what goes on here every day. I know very well all the things you are talking about, so, why are you telling me all this?’

  ‘Because, Frau Schultz, what I am asking will not mean a slap on the wrist if you are caught. What you have done so far is one thing, but in the future, it will be quite another.’

  The Major cleared his throat. ‘I think what Fräulein Sommer is trying to say is, are you prepared to do more for the cause?’

  ‘I know what Fräulein Sommer is saying and I am asking precisely what am I being requested to do?’