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

by Paul Grant

  ‘And you?’ The Hauptstürmführer had Ulrich in his sights now. ‘Old enough to fight, yet not in uniform. Perhaps you have already deserted?’

  Ulrich took in the man. He spoke good German, but there was an accent. Again, on his sleeve was the French flag, close to the SS runes.

  ‘No, sir. I’m only thirteen years old.’

  There were cries of derision from the Hitler Youth contingent.

  ‘Some of these loyal fighters are younger than you, my friend.’

  Ulrich didn’t reply. He could see what was going on here. There was no way he could win with these people. They were fanatics fighting to the last man.

  ‘So, what’s it to be? You want to fight with your friend and join these brave young men?’

  Ulrich stared at him, wanting to hit him hard, just like he had hit Horst Stinnes. He was of the same ilk, but in different clothing and a little bit older.

  Before he had the chance to say anything, the soldier they’d followed thrust another Panzerfaust into his hands and shoved him towards the HJ contingent. The group parted as he joined them, making it clear he wasn’t one of them. Ulrich slumped to the ground next to Günther, not quite believing what was happening.

  He watched on as two SS men started to throw a rope over the branch of the nearest tree. He thought he felt a vibration in the ground. The others around him were unconcerned, however, choosing to feast their eyes on the Hauptstürmführer and the three men.

  ‘For cowardice in the face of the enemy and deserting your posts, you will be executed by hanging in the name of the Führer!’

  One of the men pleaded. ‘No, no. I told you, I was split up from my regiment. I have an Iron Cross for God’s sake. I’m no coward.’

  Ulrich felt helpless, watching on as the preparations to hang the men continued. He had no choice but to join the fight, knowing what fate lay in store for him and Günther if they didn’t.

  The three condemned men were pushed under the tree. Ulrich wanted to avert his eyes. The noose was placed roughly around the first man’s neck. One of the SS men held the rope on the other side of the tree awaiting the Hauptstürmführer’s signal. He nodded, and the rope was pulled tight, lifting the poor man off his feet. He swung from side to side, struggling, kicking his feet like he was running in mid-air. The boys around them jeered and laughed. The man’s body started to twitch, and a dark patch appeared around the crotch of his trousers.

  The dead man was lowered. The Hauptstürmführer strode forward and placed a sign around his neck. It read, “I am a traitor to the Fatherland and I failed in my duty to the Führer.”

  ‘Hoist him back up. Higher this time, so everybody can see what we do with deserters, then get on with the others.’

  The younger man of the two remaining was pleading for mercy. The Hauptstürmführer was unmoved. Another rope was rigged up and placed around the second man’s neck. He was wearing a Wehrmacht uniform and appeared more defiant than the others. ‘Fuck your Führer, Frenchman!’

  The Hauptstürmführer gave the signal and two SS men took the strain on the rope, hoisting up the soldier. This time the man didn’t struggle to free himself. He chose to hang there, grimly clinging on to life.

  The vibrations on the ground became more pronounced. Ulrich heard tank tracks, before the air was pierced by the thump of a tank gun. The first salvo landed behind them, but it was close enough to make everyone break for cover. Ulrich fell to the floor as the machine gun opened up, raking up the ground around them. Some of the HJ were hit and they cried out in pain. The firing paused momentarily, so Ulrich left the Panzerfaust and ran towards the tree. The Hauptstürmführer and SS men were nowhere to be seen. The man in the process of being hung was now on his hands and knees, retching but, mercifully, alive.

  Ulrich grabbed a knife from the floor and cut the rope from the man’s neck. The man slapped him on the shoulder in thanks and then ran for cover.

  Ulrich grabbed hold of Günther. ‘Let’s get out of here!’

  Günther nodded dumbly, ditching his own Panzerfaust.

  Ulrich shoved the knife down the side of his boot. ‘Come on!’ He grabbed his friend by the collar and they made their way to cover. Most of the other men had scattered across the square towards the centre of the city. This was where the T34 concentrated its fire and where the infantry support following the tank was heading. Ulrich went in the opposite direction, back towards home.

  They eventually made it to the cover of the nearest building. They were on the street parallel to the one the Russians had appeared from. After his experience at the hands of his own country’s armed forces, Ulrich headed for home, even if it could take him into the arms of the Russians. He figured it couldn’t be any worse than what he’d just encountered.

  Taking once last look back towards the square, Ulrich could see Russian infantry swarming over the area. Many of the Hitler Youth, who had been laughing and jeering not five minutes before, now lay dead.

  He turned to Günther, ‘Now for God’s sake, get that uniform off.’

  Günther didn’t waste any time in ripping off his jacket. It was time to head for home.

  ***

  There was an eerie silence as Maria made her way up the stairs to the apartment. It’s not that she didn’t listen to Helmi’s warnings about the Russians, but she did feel people had become hysterical due to the propaganda. Contrary to what the Nazis wanted people to believe, Maria knew the world would go on without Hitler and his cronies.

  There was a crack of small arms fire somewhere in the distance, but it was nothing compared to the previous weeks. In some ways, the quiet was unnerving. Maria couldn’t believe this was how the war would end. She expected something different, something more dramatic. Maria picked up Eva’s doll. She crossed to look out of the cracked window. The street was deserted. She wondered where Ulrich had got to. She wanted him back home now, close to her. It was too near the end for anything to go wrong now.

  She thought she saw something. It was getting towards dusk and the low sun left long shadows down the street. She thought she’d seen a flicker in the light. It made her shiver, as if someone had walked over her grave. It was time to get back down to the safety of the cellar.

  The door had been left ajar, in case she had to get out of the apartment quickly. Just then, she thought she heard the scraping of feet on the steps. She stopped and turned back into the safety of the hallway.

  ‘Maria, I thought you might be here.’

  She gasped. Reitsch was standing in the doorway. His normally immaculate hair was hanging down over his face. The leather jacket had been dispensed with. In his hand he had what looked like a bottle of spirits. He appeared unsteady on his feet, the worse for alcohol.

  ‘What do you want, Reitsch?’

  ‘Want?’ He laughed and staggered towards her using his good arm against the wall of the hallway. The bottle slipped from his grasp smashing on the floor. He barely seemed to notice.

  ‘I came for my reward.’ His head was on one side like he was talking to a child. ‘Seeing as it’s nearly the end.’

  ‘The end for you, maybe.’

  He was close now and Maria could smell the alcohol on his breath. Another time she would have run back into the apartment, but not now. She didn’t want him to see any fear, even if she felt it.

  ‘There’s no need to be so harsh, Maria.’

  He made to put his hands on her, but slipped and fell on the floor, laughing. Maria saw her chance and went to jump over him, but he grabbed her legs. She fought to get loose, but he was strong, in spite of his disability. He pulled on the front of her dress, tearing it, laughing like a maniac. Maria struggled to try and free herself from his grasp.

  She swung the doll hitting him on the head, which subdued him for a moment, but he still held her in a vice-like grip. She looked down the hallway towards the broken bottle. If only she could reach it, she thought. Then he hit her hard in the stomach. Maria was doubled over in pain and he pushed her on to the
floor. He clambered on top of her, panting with the effort. She slapped his face, clawing at his skin, fearing the worst. He had his legs either side of her now. He raised his hand and struck her hard across the face. She felt dizzy and disoriented. He forced her legs apart and started pulling at his trousers.

  He hovered over her, ready for the kill. Maria felt queasy and weak, but knew she had to keep fighting. She looked over his shoulder towards the open door. Shouting for help was useless, but she called out anyway.

  ***

  It took them an age, dodging from crater to crater, building to building, but they eventually made it back to Lichtenberg. At some point, they must have passed through the Russian lines. They’d seen Russians and Germans alike, most of them dead. It was difficult to tell who was who at times. There were so many different uniforms. It was one mass of confusion, not knowing who was friend or who was foe. Close to the town hall, two boy soldiers were slumped over a street barricade, their eyes wide in death, their shirts soaked in blood. That could so easily have been Ulrich or Günther.

  It was almost dark by the time they reached the apartment. There wasn’t a soul to be seen.

  Ulrich turned to him. ‘We should go straight to the cellar. Everybody must still be down there.’

  They scuttled inside, passing the stairwell that led up to Ulrich’s apartment.

  ‘Wait.’

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Ulrich said.

  ‘I heard something from upstairs.’

  ‘There might be Russians up there.’

  Günther shook his head. ‘It sounded like a woman’s voice.’

  ‘Help!’ This time they both heard it. Ulrich bounded up the stairs with Günther close behind.

  At the door, Ulrich stopped in shock. There was a man with his trousers half down struggling with a woman, her legs kicking either side of the wall.

  ‘Mother?’

  ‘Uli! Get him off...’

  The man turned. His eyes were strange, glazed. He looked wild. Ulrich saw it was Reitsch, the Gestapo man. Ulrich ran towards them, grabbing the man’s shirt at the back. Reitsch swung a fist haphazardly, but Ulrich managed to avoid the blow and Reitsch grunted in pain as his fist hit the wall.

  Reitsch turned his attention to Ulrich, enabling Maria to slide free of him. Ulrich felt he was in big trouble now. Reitsch was too strong for him. He lunged at Ulrich, grabbing him around the neck. He forced himself onto his knees and pushed Ulrich against the wall. As hard as he tried, Ulrich couldn’t wriggle free. He was struggling for breath, trying to strike Reitsch, but it was no use. Ulrich could see his mother out of the corner of his eye, barely moving. He felt himself starting to go faint. He felt hands searching down the side of his boot. It was strange because he knew his assailant only had one hand and that was slowly suffocating him. He was sure he would black out any moment, when suddenly Reitsch’s eyes widened in shock. It took a second, but slowly the pressure on his throat was released. Reitsch slumped forward onto Ulrich’s chest.

  Ulrich’s focus returned. Over Reitsch’s shoulder, Günther was standing with the blood-covered SS dagger. He looked to be in shock at what he’d done, but there was no doubt he’d saved his friend.

  Ulrich was too weak to push him off. Günther threw down the knife and pulled Reitsch out of the way. Ulrich tried to get his breath. He turned to his mother, who was now sitting up, her back against the wall.

  Ulrich pushed himself towards her and took her in his arms. He looked her in the eyes. ‘Are you ok, Mama? Did he...?’

  She shook her head quickly. ‘I’m fine.’ She managed a smile. ‘You boys got here in the nick of time.’

  Günther was leant over Reitsch’s body, checking him over. ‘He’s definitely dead.’

  ‘What are we going to do with him?’ Ulrich said.

  ‘We can dump him out on the street. There are plenty of other bodies out there. One more won’t make a difference.’ Günther shrugged, seemingly having regained his composure.

  Ulrich nodded. ‘OK. We better get on with it. He doesn’t need to be found in here.’

  His mother managed to clamber up. ‘I’ll help.’

  ‘No way!’ Ulrich said. ‘You can go back down to the cellar, right now. We’ll be down as soon as we’re finished.’

  His mother lacked the energy to argue. She cupped his cheek. ‘Be careful, Uli.’

  ‘No more careful than I’ve already been today.’ He shot a look at Günther, who smiled at him.

  ‘Now go, and don’t forget this.’ He picked up the doll and handed it to her.

  She looked at the doll and laughed. ‘It’s still in one piece at least.

  Ulrich look puzzled for a moment.

  ‘I used it to hit Reitsch.’

  ‘Don’t tell Evie!’ Ulrich joked. ‘Now we need to get moving.’

  His mother stepped over Reitsch’s body and headed down to the cellar. Ulrich and Günther dragged his body to the door, one under each armpit. There were short bursts of gun fire close by.

  ‘Just keep pulling,’ Günther urged.

  When they got to the top of the stairway, Günther said, ‘Just push him down the stairs. We don’t have time for niceties.’

  They let his body go and it rolled to the bottom, landing in a heap. The boys followed it down and quickly got to the task of dragging it out into the courtyard entrance.

  They were close to the opening to the street when they heard voices nearby. Günther popped his head out.

  ‘Come on. We can’t leave him here, just in case there’s a counter-attack.’

  With great effort, they hauled Reitsch’s body out onto the open street. Ulrich took in all the rubble and discarded weaponry.

  ‘We should try and find a crater. Some place further away,’ Ulrich said.

  ‘Over there.’ Günther motioned. ‘Next to the Volkssturm man.’ An old man lay half buried.

  Ulrich felt like he’d already used up every ounce of energy he had. The last metres felt like agony, all his muscles screaming in pain. Finally, they dropped him. They both collapsed next to the body, spent.

  ‘Uri!’

  Ulrich raised his head to see the muzzle of a Russian machine gun. There was no doubt the man holding it was Russian. The green uniform and Mongol features gave it away.

  ‘Uri! Uri!’ He was becoming more aggressive and Ulrich feared the worst.

  Günther held his hands up in the air. ‘Show him your hands. Your wrists.’

  Ulrich put up his hands. The Russian checked up his forearms. Then he flicked his head towards Reitsch’s body.

  ‘What the hell does he want?’ Ulrich said in exasperation.

  Günther laughed. Ulrich looked at him like he was mad. ‘He wants his watch. Give him the watch!’

  Ulrich scrambled over the body to his left wrist. His hands shook as he struggled to undo the watch strap, but finally he managed it. The Russian snatched it out of his hand and put it to his ear, listening intently. He nodded, seemingly content. He looked at Ulrich and winked, and carried on down the street.

  CHAPTER 26

  MAY 1945, RUSSIA

  I was lying on my bunk doing my best to sleep. It was difficult in the eternal light. This far north, at this time of year, there were only a few hours of darkness, and then not like the darkness back home. I couldn’t sleep anyway. I’d woken up drenched in sweat, dreaming of stripping bark from trees. Giant branches had started to attack me and I struggled with them, more likely fighting with the demons of my war. If all I had as a souvenir were my nightmares, I knew I’d done well. At least I was here. At least I had the hope of getting home to Berlin and Maria.

  ‘Can’t sleep?’ Schram was at the other end of my bunk, eyes wide.

  ‘I feel like I’m under a streetlight,’ I said, stretching out.

  I looked over at the others. Marz was out for the count, seemingly oblivious. He’d been more subdued since his beating at the hands of the other prisoners. He’d not tried to escape again either. Koegel was on his side, the b
lanket over his head. I’d not been able to look at him in the same way since the episode with Marz. Nonetheless, it didn’t surprise me what men did in desperation, so I didn’t exactly blame him.

  ‘We’ve been here more than two years,’ Schram mused.

  ‘Two years of felling and stripping timber and we still haven’t made a dent in the number of trees.’

  ‘I don’t care if I never see another tree again. Give me a mass of concrete any day.’

  There was shouting outside the bunker. The air was suddenly permeated by gunfire. The room came alive, men stirring, up on their elbows, bleary-eyed, wondering what was going on.

  Schram looked at me in confusion. ‘An escape?’

  There was shouting, but the cries were more celebratory in nature. There were no curses or urgency, only jubilation. There was more gunfire. I was starting to catch on. There was no target to the gunfire, unless they were aiming at the birds.

  Then, suddenly, there was music on the camp address system. I had a feeling an announcement was in the air.

  I shook my head. ‘No, Markus, it’s not an escape, but I do believe the war might well be over.’

  CHAPTER 27

  JULY 1945, BERLIN

  It was the second night after the front-line troops had passed through when it all started. It had happened every night since then, without fail. The days were peaceful. In contrast, the nights were pure hell. Russian troops, stupefied on alcohol and victory, did what they wanted, and there was nobody to stop them. Maria Schultz had hoped all the pain and suffering would end with the war, but for the women of Berlin it wasn’t over, by any means.

  Originally, they’d taken to the cellars and barricaded themselves in each night. The Russians still came hunting, kicking down doors, even using hand grenades if they needed to. They searched the cellars by torchlight and took the women they wanted. Nobody was immune, young, old, thin, fat; they didn’t care. Very few escaped the ordeal. Many were content to survive, some didn’t manage that. Even when Maria and the others dressed in old men’s clothes and dirtied their faces it made little difference. They all suffered, including Maria.