by Alan David
A voice calling jerked him from his thoughts and he looked up to see Aunt Gretel at the front doorway, waving to him. He smiled wryly as he lifted a hand and acknowledged. In this whole treacherous world Aunt Gretel was the only person who seemed sane and unchanging. He had loved her as a child, and still felt a high regard for her. She was, apart from Fritz Leun, the only person with whom he could be natural.
She came running towards him as he started along the path, and the next moment she had flung herself into his arms, laughing and crying.
‘Max!’ Her cheeks were wet with tears, her dark eyes bright. ‘I couldn’t believe my eyes when I looked out and saw you. Are you on leave? How long have you got? When do you have to go back? Have you seen anything of Kurt recently?’
‘So many questions in one breath,’ he teased, smiling, but his eyes were filled with a sombre light when he noted how old she was looking, although she was not yet fifty. There was the glint of grey in her hair and her face was careworn. She seemed thin, and he wondered if she had been ill.
‘You’re looking very well, at any rate,’ she observed. ‘I suppose they feed you well in the Forces, don’t they?’
He linked his arm through hers. ‘It’s been rough lately,’ he admitted. ‘But I’m all right. We left Italy about three weeks ago. I haven’t seen Kurt or Major Zimmermann since I saw them returning from leave last autumn. They were both all right then.’
‘We’ve heard from them. They’ve left Italy. Were you at Cassino? The radio said our troops fought very bravely.’
‘I’d rather not talk about the war,’ he responded, and there was a touch of iron in his tone. ‘I have a few days, that is all. At the moment I’m stationed at Gutersbrucke. It’s in the heart of the Ruhr.’
‘Then you’ve experienced something of the bombing.’ She peered into his face as they walked towards the white-painted house.
‘What about you?’ He refused to answer her statement. ‘You look as if you’ve been ill. Have you?’
‘No. It’s worry that’s showing, and old age, I expect. Life has been harsh to me. I lost my first husband in the Great War, and now my second husband is fighting in this horror. Anna is worried about Kurt, and so am I, for that matter. When do you think this will end, Max? What is the point of going on when we know we cannot win?’
‘Don’t talk like that!’ he rebuked sharply, glancing around as if expecting a member of the Gestapo to leap out from behind the nearest bush.
‘Why not? You’re one of the family. If members of a family cannot talk freely then it’s a poor society your beloved Führer has brought about, don’t you think?’
‘You sound as if you’re living under strain.’ He frowned as he peered into her face. ‘It must be hard for you, being at home, having heavy bombing almost on your doorstep. But it’s a lot worse in other places, I can assure you.’
‘I know it is, and my heart bleeds for everyone who has to suffer. It’s time someone with a conscience stood up and tried to put matters right.’
A series of distant explosions shook the ground, and they heard the rumble of detonations. Max peered up into the sky but it was clear of enemy aircraft.
‘That’s Hamburg getting it,’ Aunt Gretel said. ‘They are bombing it around the clock. Night and day we hear that sound. It’s getting so that we live with it and don’t notice it. And we see the aircraft going over on their way to Berlin. God knows what the capital looks like these days. We listen to the BBC. They tell us more accurately what is going on in the world.’
‘Aunt, you don’t!’ Max halted in midstride and gazed at her in disbelief. ‘You know the penalty for listening to the enemy radio.’
‘Everyone listens to it, although it is forbidden. But how else are we to learn the facts of what is happening?’
‘The enemy churns out propaganda.’
Aunt Gretel chuckled harshly. ‘So do our people. They tell us Germany is not being bombed, that the Luftwaffe is all-powerful and is shooting the Allied airforces out of the skies. But go and take a look around Hamburg. Tell me what you saw in the Ruhr. Open your eyes, Max. Your precious Führer has brought ruin and death to almost every family in the land.’
‘Aunt, if you continue to talk like this I shall turn around and go back to barracks,’ he said sharply. ‘God! I’ve come home for a few days peace and quiet. What’s got into you? You’re talking treason. Every other word you utter is blasphemy.’
‘Do you think your beloved Führer still thinks he can win this war?’ Aunt Gretel shook her head. ‘You always thought the sun shone out of his eyes, Max. It was your father’s fault, filling your head with all that idealistic nonsense. But surely you can see the difference between right and wrong now.’
He shook his head. ‘You’re upset by the bombing,’ he decided. ‘I can understand that. I’ve seen some dreadful sights myself since I came back from Italy. The civilians in this war are having to face up to as much trouble as any front-line soldiers. But try and forget it for a few days, Aunt. I’ve come home for a rest. God knows I need to forget some of the things I have seen and done.’
‘You’re with the SS! You will have a lot to answer for when this war is ended, Max. Can’t you get out of it before it is too late?’
He shook his head angrily. ‘I won’t listen to this, Aunt. Stop it now or I shall return to Dettfeld and report you to the police. No one can talk like that and go unpunished.’
‘So you’d inform against me, would you?’ She smiled sadly. ‘My little Max! What a monster they’ve turned you into! But the fact that you could do such a thing points to their inhumanity. I should think your own intelligence would reveal the whole truth to you. But I will hold my tongue now. I only want you to realize just how much life has changed for us at home. We are disillusioned with the war, with the eternal round of sacrifices that must be made. The war is lost and there is no one who can stop it, who can prevent even more bloodshed. But come into the house and we’ll try and make your stay comfortable.’
‘How are Anna and the children?’ He was breathing heavily.
‘They are fine. Anna has the children to occupy her mind. She can cope because of them. But I have nothing to do but wait for it all to end and hope that Viktor will come back to me in one piece. I’m sorry for going at you as soon as you showed your face, Max. I love you like a son and I’m sure you know that. But it was men like your father who put the Führer in power, and they did not understand what they were doing. They acted from the highest principles, but they permitted a nightmare to engulf the whole German race.’
‘If the Allies could hear you talking they’d put you on their radio,’ he said tensely. ‘Now enough of it, Aunt. If anyone else should hear you talking in this manner you’d be hauled away and put into a concentration camp.’
‘So you do admit that there are such places!’ She glanced at him and smiled harshly at his swift change of expression. ‘Come on in, Max. I feel in a bad humour because of the way the war is going. I shouldn’t take it out on you. I know you are only doing your duty, and if you failed to do it they would shoot you. It’s a nice state of affairs, but there’s nothing anyone can do about it right now. We must see it out to the bitter end.’
They entered the house and he dumped his knapsack on the stairs. Aunt Gretel led him through to the sitting room and he saw Anna there, with both her children. Sigrid was about eighteen months now, a beautiful blue-eyed toddler with long blonde hair who looked an exact replica of her mother. The baby, young Kurt, was crawling on the floor, gurgling and chuckling.
‘Max!’ Anna started to her feet and came towards him with outstretched hand. ‘Is it really you? I heard Aunt Gretel call out, but I didn’t think it was one of the family. How are you keeping? You’re looking well. Have you seen anything of Kurt lately?’
He smiled as he took her hand briefly, and while he answered her questions he tried to take mental stock of himself and the situation as he knew it. Was Aunt Gretel correct in what she said? If she w
as then he would have a great deal to answer for when the war finally ended. He pulled himself up short, for he was adopting her attitude that when the war did end it would be in the Allies’ favour. He sighed heavily, half wishing that he had stayed away. But this was the nearest place to home that he had and he needed it to come back to.
He sat down and tried to relax. A thunderous explosion suddenly shook the house and he started up quickly. But Aunt Gretel smiled grimly and reassured him.
‘It’s all right, Max. An enemy bomber coming down with a full load of bombs. They don’t have it all their own way. I hear that there are hundreds of anti-aircraft guns around Hamburg.’
‘But they don’t stop them getting through,’ he retorted, settling himself again. A sigh escaped him, and he realized that he had made a mistake returning here. He should have no contact with the civilian population at all. They did not understand half of what had to be done. But to stay away from them was cutting oneself off from reality, he knew, and his lips pulled into a thin line.
They had tea together, but it was a strained affair, he fancied. Aunt Gretel watched him intently, as if trying to gauge his real manner and attitude, and, when the meal was over, she looked directly into his eyes.
‘Would you mind if we turned on the radio and listened to the BBC news?’ she asked.
For God’s sake!’ he responded. ‘You could go to a concentration camp for that.’
‘It’s the only way to get a true picture of what is happening everywhere,’ she said starkly.
‘I’ve never listened to enemy broadcasts in my life,’ he retorted.
‘Then you have a shock awaiting you. Where were you in the line in Italy three weeks ago?’
‘We pulled out at Cassino.’
‘Seventy miles or so south of Rome.’ Aunt Gretel shook her head. ‘Do you know that the Allies are on the point of entering Rome? The German armies are retreating to avoid being cut off.’
‘No!’ He started violently to his feet. ‘It’s all propaganda! We held that line all winter then withdrew to other prepared positions. It should take the Allies another six months to get to Rome.’
‘What about the Russian front? You were there at Stalingrad. Do you know the German armies are being flung back everywhere now? They will soon be in a headlong retreat back to Germany. Then what will happen to us? We can only pray that the British and Americans get here first.’
Max shook his head in disbelief. Had the world gone mad? He stared at Aunt Gretel as if she were a stranger. Her eyes were filled with determination as she met his gaze and nodded slowly.
‘I thought so,’ she said firmly. ‘You don’t know the half of it, and that goes for most of the other poor soldiers at the front. You are fighting and dying for a lost cause. The Führer himself is not in any danger, you may be sure. He and the top Nazis will be safe no matter what happens to Germany. Open your eyes, Max. See what everyone around you already knows.’
He shook his head and went to the door. ‘I’m going into town,’ he said. ‘I’ll be back later. But you’d better change your attitude by the time I get back, Aunt, or I’ll leave first thing in the morning. I don’t know what’s got into you. You were never like this. If you’ve changed then so must have most of the civilian population. If that is so then Germany has as good as lost the war.’
‘The war was lost two years ago,’ Aunt Gretel said firmly. ‘You’re behind the times, Max.’
He left, walking furiously along the road towards Dettfeld, and breathed heavily. He was shocked by Aunt Gretel’s manner. It had to be the strain of the times showing in her. Yet he was concerned in case any stranger should happen to cross her path and hear her talking. If she was reported she would probably be dragged off to a concentration camp. He had guarded such places before the war and knew that they were run on much harsher lines now. The exigencies of war controlled the level of discipline that had to be inflicted upon those who were recalcitrant.
But his state of mind was worse now than when he had left Gutersbrucke. He had hoped for a few days rest plus the opportunity to make love to Sonia, and now he was wishing that he had not come home. Over the past year he had relented his inflexible manner and permitted himself some free thought. He had been brought up in the ways of the fanatical Nazis ever since he had been old enough to think for himself. He had cut himself off from family and exerted himself to become a perfect Nazi, for he had believed wholeheartedly in what the Führer set out to do. Now he had misgivings, and although he tried to bolster his shrinking beliefs he had enough intelligence to accept that somewhere along the line the Führer’s doctrines had parted company from reality.
He paused at a crossroads and peered around. A group of soldiers was coming along the road from his right and they had two airmen in their midst. He remained watching until they reached him, and saw that the prisoners were British. One had been injured, his left arm hanging limply by his side, and both men had bruises and blood upon their impassive faces. They glanced at him in passing and he stared at them, wondering at the true situation now facing Germany. He knew from bitter experience that the Luftwaffe had been beaten and could only put up a desperate resistance against the hordes of bombers streaming across Germany and the occupied countries. He was aware that the German armies were hard pressed and giving ground on all fronts, and they were waiting for the Second Front to open. He sighed heavily and continued along the road, filled with nagging doubts that threatened to undermine his morale.
When he reached Dettfeld he went into a tavern and drank several glasses of schnapps. He was in a brooding mood, and looked around through narrowed eyes, wanting to strike out at someone or something in order to release the repressions frustrating him. He could not bear to think that five years of war had resulted in a total loss. For five long years he had been ready and proud to give his life for the Fatherland, as millions had already done. Now he felt that all the time and energy and sacrifice had been in vain.
But was this feeling the product of enemy propaganda? Aunt Gretel had been listening to the BBC, and that was why she had changed her views on the war. She was spreading gloom and despondency, defeatism, by repeating what she heard, and he could understand why the authorities punished defeatists so severely.
He left the tavern and crossed the square to the mayor’s house. When he stood at the front door awaiting a reply to his knock he thought of the previous autumn, when Sonia had brought him here to make love to her in response to her desire to bear a child for the Führer. That had been a marvellous leave, he recalled, and it had done much to bring his mental attitude back to normal. He had fought through the winter on the strength of the rest and pleasure he had received here.
A short, heavily built man in his forties opened the door to him and studied his uniform through narrowed brown eyes.
‘I’m Max Eckhardt. I’d like to see Sonia.’
There was a short silence while the mayor studied him intently. Then the man moistened his lips. ‘Hauptsturmführer Eckhardt,’ he said in a clipped tone. ‘I know you are responsible for my daughter’s condition. She is proud to be permitted to bear a child for the Führer. Everyone must do everything possible for ultimate victory. But I would prefer it if you did not see Sonia again. You are a man of perhaps thirty years and she is little more than a schoolgirl.’
‘I wrote to her from Italy,’ Max said briskly.
‘I saw to it that she did not receive your letters.’
Max met the older man’s dark gaze and saw determination in it. He drew a sharp breath and held it for a moment. A few well-chosen threats could reduce this man to a quivering jelly. But he fought against the impulse. Dressler had his daughter to consider, and if the war was already lost for Germany then no one would want to bear a child for the Führer. He sighed heavily.
‘How is Sonia?’ he asked.
‘She is well, under the circumstances. The child will be born within a few weeks now. I know your aunt lives at the Siegler farm and I will see to it th
at you are informed of the child’s welfare in due course.’
‘Don’t,’ Max said harshly. ‘I think it would be better if I did not learn anything about it. I hope Sonia gets over this well when her time comes.’ He turned slowly to leave but the mayor reached out and touched his arm.
‘Thank you, Herr Hauptsturmführer,’ he said gratefully. ‘Sonia is very young and impressionable. These are hard times for all of us. I appreciate your understanding.’
Max turned away without comment. He went back to the tavern in the growing gloom and a sense of depression closed in upon him. He sat at a table with a bottle of schnapps at his elbow, thinking of the past five years and what he had done in them. A procession of faces flitted across his mind — all the men he had known who sacrificed themselves for the greater glory of Germany, and his schnapps tasted like vinegar in his mouth. He could not accept that it had all been in vain. If he admitted that then his existence was a lie, a crime against the whole world. No man could accept such knowledge, and he attempted to drown his thoughts in schnapps. He needed reassurance. He wanted to have something to which he could cling in these trying times. But there was nothing but bitterness.
He had made a mistake by coming home. He could not get back to his unit quickly enough. It was the evening of June 4, 1944.
CHAPTER TEN
Kurt gritted his teeth as they received the order to advance. Air activity was intense and smoke was billowing across the fields. Heavy shells from the Allied battleships standing off the coast were hitting Caen and creating havoc. He stood in his turret, peering around as they crossed field after field and struggled to get over the hedgerows. The only good thing about the hedges was that they would prove to be solid defensive positions if the worst happened and the Germans were forced to withdraw. The Allies would find it almost impossible to advance quickly.
They quickly approached their forward units, and, as usual, the apparent confusion and noise from the jumbled convoys in the back areas gave way to a strange peacefulness in the forward area. There were some dead cattle in the deserted fields and some still gazing; Here and there a civilian was moving around cautiously, but generally there was nothing to see but German assault troops preparing to follow up the armoured attack. Shell bursts were rising up like grotesque growths upon the landscape, and the blasting roar of their explosions formed a never-ending background noise.