The Watcher

by Joan Hiatt Harlow

  I didn’t know exactly what Adrie did for work—but this wasn’t the time to ask and I was too hungry to care. The stew was thick with meat, carrots, potatoes, and cabbage. I hadn’t had a real substantial meal with meat in a long time—not even back in the States—but we didn’t lack anything here, and I devoured two bowlfuls.

  After a dessert of baked cinnamon apples topped with sweet nutty syrup and whipped cream, Adrie said, “Tomorrow you will come with me to my office downtown. There you will meet Admiral Canaris, who is—as you say in America—my boss.”

  Although I was curious about Adrie’s work, I was sure I’d be bored. “Are you positive you want me to go with you?”

  “Of course. I’m positive. Admiral Canaris often asks about you. I was told he has a surprise for us.”

  “A surprise? For us?”

  “Yes. But now it’s time for you to go to bed.” She stood up, dismissing me.

  I would have liked to stay up longer, but I could tell Adrie was finished with me. It was as if she were checking me off her list of daily duties.

  “Thank you for all the beautiful clothes you bought me, Adrie,” I said before leaving.

  “You’re welcome,” she answered. “Sleep well.”

  I went to my room, put on my new pajamas, turned out the light, and looked out the window. My room faced the park, which was dark now. For a moment I recalled the face I had seen amid the foliage. It was simply a mirage, I told myself as I climbed into bed.

  Still, it really had looked like a face.

  4

  Speeding on the Autobahn

  The next morning after breakfast, Adrie reminded me of our visit to meet with Admiral Canaris. I hoped it wouldn’t take long.

  “How come Admiral Canaris isn’t on a ship? An admiral is a naval officer, isn’t it?”

  “He was in the navy in the last war. Now he is the head the Abwehr military intelligence unit.”

  “Intelligence? Does that mean he’s a genius or something?”

  Adrie laughed. “Well, he is a brilliant man, actually,” she explained, still chuckling. “He has a position of great importance. Abwehr is the department that hunts out those who are working against our Führer.”

  Things were beginning to fall into place. Adrie was a spy and she worked for the German government as a spy in the United States. They had found out and wanted to catch her. And that was the reason we had to run away.

  “Oh, so Abwehr is a spy organization?” I asked.

  “Go get dressed and don’t ask so many questions.”

  I wore a new blue skirt, shirt, and jacket along with matching shoes, and Adrie wore a deep blue suit, so we sort of matched. She called a taxi, and we drove through downtown Berlin to the Abwehr office. Of course, there was no sign on the door advertising the fact that this was a Nazi spy organization. It didn’t seem different than any other office that I’d seen. However, there were signs on some doors that indicated no one was allowed through unless they had priority clearance. Adrie translated for me.

  I think I was expecting the need for a top-secret code to open the door, or a bookcase that swung open to a hidden room. But then, when I looked at Adrie, she wasn’t like a spy I might have seen in a movie. I didn’t think she ever had one of those spy raincoats with lots of pockets or a wristwatch that was really a radio. She looked more like a professional journalist or maybe the president of some big company.

  Admiral Canaris was a small man, quiet-spoken, and very sweet. He didn’t seem to me one bit like a top spy person—or whatever his title was. He smiled and shook my hand firmly and spoke softly to Adrie. She told him I didn’t speak German, and he nodded agreeably. They spoke back and forth, and I could tell some of the conversation was about me because they would look at me. I heard the word Unterseeboot and knew Adrie was telling him about our trip across the ocean in the submarine.

  After some conversation between them, I noticed a look of surprise, followed by disappointment on Adrie’s face. What had he told her that caused her distress? I wondered.

  Admiral Canaris then took a key from his desk and motioned for us to follow him outside to the parking lot at the back of the building. He took us to a shiny two-door silver-gray car. He unlocked the doors and motioned for Adrie to get into the driver’s seat. Admiral Canaris stood by, explaining various switches and gears and turning on the windshield wipers, the lights, and the horn. Adrie started the engine, and after she said danke a dozen or more times, I realized then that he had given her the car.

  The admiral opened the passenger-side door and signaled for me to get in. Then, standing back, he gave us a little salute, pointed to the driveway, and went back into the building.

  “This was the surprise. We have an auto!” Adrie whispered. “And what a beauty!”

  “It looks brand-new,” I said, admiring the leather seats and shiny knobs and equipment. “What kind of car is it?”

  “It’s a 1939 Opel Kapitän. There haven’t been new cars in Germany since 1940. Now we don’t need to call a taxi for every little thing.” Adrie concentrated as she drove out to the road and pulled in to a line of traffic.

  “How come he gave it to you?”

  She shrugged and raised her eyebrows. “I guess I can thank you for this. Since you are living with me now, he thinks it will be better that I don’t travel outside of Germany for a while.”

  “Because of me?”

  “Well, not just because of you,” she explained. “It’s more likely because my face has been plastered all over newspapers in America and England since we were nearly captured back in Maine. It would be dangerous for me to work outside of Germany now. In any case, he gave me the car for everyday use, as well as for future Abwehr assignments I might have in this country.”

  As we turned onto the Autobahn, the busy highway Hitler had built, Adrie gave a little whistle. “This is a powerful car. It’s one of the last government-owned automobiles. There aren’t many left, so I’m fortunate to get this beauty. It will make up somewhat for the projects I was hoping to get.”

  Projects she hoped to get. So it was because of me that she wouldn’t get them.

  Adrie shifted gears and stepped hard on the accelerator. “Hang on to your hat!”

  I held my breath as we zoomed off, passing all the other speeding cars on the Autobahn.

  5

  Deadly Dogs

  We had been driving for an hour or so, and I wondered where we were going. After several minutes Adrie glanced at her watch and said, “I do have to see someone up the road here—about work.”

  “Oh, do you have to?” I complained, and then fearing she would be angry, I added, “I was hoping we could do something—just the two of us—like yesterday.”

  “It’s essential that I deal with some important things while we are here.” She turned a corner and came to a stop outside a large facility. “I have an idea. You might be interested in seeing how SS police dogs are trained for service. It will give you something to do while you’re waiting for me.”

  Adrie took me into a building and spoke to an officer behind the desk. Then she said to me, “You are invited to watch while those uniformed men work with the dogs.” As she turned to go she added, “Oh, I told them you don’t speak German. They’ll have someone speak to you in English.”

  The man behind the desk motioned for me to come with him. We walked out onto a pathway that wound among the buildings in the complex and where armed men in SS uniforms patrolled with their dogs.

  In the field beyond the compound, a dog crouched by its trainer, waiting for a signal. Then, upon command, the animal, its teeth bared, darted toward a humanlike dummy that stood on the other side of the field. In an instant the dog leaped, knocked the dummy to the ground, and began tearing it to shreds. I cringed at the sound of gnashing teeth and snarls.

  Why are these dogs being taught to kill? Did Adrie really think I would find this fun to watch? I winced as, on command, the dogs, fur bristled, bodies tensed, sprang on men who
wore protective clothing and played the parts of the prisoner or enemy.

  The officer who was with me stopped and spoke to me in English. “Perhaps you’d like to see the puppies we are training.”

  I followed him to a long narrow building where various-size dogs peered out from kennels. The officer opened a cage where the smallest puppies squealed, scurried out to me, and licked my hands as I stooped to pet them.

  “They’re adorable,” I murmured. “I hate to think they’ll be vicious police dogs soon.”

  One shy black-brown-and-white puppy stood off, eyeing us. “What are you doing there all by yourself? Just watching?” I called. “Come see me, little guy.”

  The guard snickered. “He won’t come. He’s stupid—not good for anything.”

  “Come on, little pup,” I crooned. “You want to play, don’t you?” This time, I could see the puppy’s eyes brighten—and he pounced over to me.

  “Ha!” said the officer. “He likes you.”

  When I knelt to pet him, the little dog rubbed against me as if looking for affection, his tail wagging madly. I put my arms around him, and he jumped up immediately and lapped my face. “I love this one!”

  “Oh, that dog is worthless,” the officer scoffed. “Look at him. He doesn’t lift his ears upright like a pure-blooded noble German shepherd.”

  Sure enough. Instead of straight perked-up ears, one of this dog’s ears folded over comically.

  “Why do you say he’s worthless? Surely, it has nothing to do with his ears.”

  “He’s a clown. He doesn’t obey, and he’s six months old. I expect he’ll be put down sometime soon.”

  “What do you mean ‘put down’?”

  “He’ll probably be shot,” the man replied. “We can’t afford to train and feed a dog that is of no use. If a dog can’t be trained, he’s shot. That’s it.”

  I took ahold of the dog’s collar and pulled him closer to me. The dog’s cold nose tickled my neck as he climbed back into my arms. “No, he can’t be shot,” I objected loudly. “He’s a wonderful dog. Someone would want him.”

  “Do you want him?” the officer asked. “You can have him, but you need to remember we are at war and a pet takes many of your rations. You may be sorry.”

  “I’ll speak to my mother when she returns,” I said, holding the puppy close.

  I won’t let them shoot this dog! I have to convince Adrie to let me keep him.

  6

  Promises

  When Adrie walked through the door, the dog was sleeping in my lap. “Are you ready to leave?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Adrie frowned. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

  “Oh, Adrie, I can’t leave this dog here. They’re going to shoot him.”

  “Why are they going to shoot him?”

  “Because he’s not vicious enough to be a police dog, that’s why.” I waited for a response, but Adrie looked befuddled, so I pressed on. “He’s a beautiful, lovable puppy, and they’re going to kill him. Can we take him with us?”

  “No, we can’t. We absolutely cannot!”

  “Please . . .”

  “It is selfish to take on a dog during wartime. The dog has to be fed, and that takes food away from our soldiers.” She gestured for me to go to the door.

  “Adrie, I’d willingly go without food myself to feed him. Just look at him.” I pointed to him cuddled so sweetly in my lap. “He doesn’t want to be vicious or to kill. He only wants to be loved.”

  “It’s impossible. Where would we keep him? Who would take care of him?”

  “I would, of course! Oh, please, please, Adrie.”

  “No. Absolutely not.” She headed for the door, expecting me to follow.

  I didn’t move. “I found a puppy who needs a friend, just like I do. I don’t know anyone here in Germany. I have no friends. I can’t speak German. I would be so happy if I could have this dog.” The pup looked up at Adrie and yawned sleepily. “The officer said I could have him. So please, please let me take him home. We can’t leave him here to be shot.”

  Adrie sighed and rolled her eyes. “I never should have let you wait for me here with these puppies. I thought you’d find it interesting, but I never expected . . .” She took ahold of my arm and pulled me up. “Come on. We’re leaving—without that dog!”

  The puppy, who had slipped off my lap onto the floor, sat and watched us with the saddest expression. “No, I’m not going.” I dropped to my knees and threw both arms around the dog. “I won’t leave him to be shot.”

  “So you’re telling me that you are going to stay here, by yourself, if I don’t let you have that dog. Is that what you’re saying?” Adrie’s anger was about to erupt.

  “Adrie,” I pleaded. “I’ve come here to Germany to be with you. I gave up my family and friends to be with you. I crossed the ocean in a U-boat that was torpedoed, because I wanted to be with you. I’m asking only that you will let me have this dog. I will take care of him, I promise! I’ll clean up after him, walk him, train him, and do everything. You won’t even know he’s around. Oh, don’t you see? I . . . I need him. And he needs me, too.”

  Surprisingly, the SS Officer who had taken me on the tour of the facility spoke up. “This dog would make a good pet,” he said to Adrie. “He’s not vicious and it looks like they’ve taken to each other.”

  Adrie replied angrily in German and shook her finger in his face.

  The officer put his hand up for her to stop and barked at her in English, “For the love of God, shut up and let her have the dog!”

  Adrie looked stunned. Then as if conceding defeat, she shrugged. “Oh, all right. I guess we can take him.”

  “Thank you, thank you!” I jumped to my feet and reached out to Adrie, who allowed herself to be hugged. “I promise I’ll take him for walks and feed him and brush him . . . and . . .”

  “Yes, you will,” Adrie agreed, shoving me away. “And without one single complaint.”

  “I promise! I promise!”

  7

  Mean and Catty

  I sat in the backseat of the car with the puppy on my lap. He was sweet, and every so often he looked up happily and lapped my hands or my face. I thought of my daddy back home, and how he always wanted a German shepherd.

  Adrie was silent, and I was worried about her attitude toward me—and my puppy—once we got home. I hoped she was so happy with the car, she would forget about being angry with me.

  Adrie finally looked at me through the rearview mirror. “We have an invitation to tea at three o’clock, and I have made a reservation. Ironically, it is a mother-and-daughter affair, and the first time ever you and I could go to something like this as mother and daughter. But now you have this dog. So what will we do with him while we attend the tea?”

  I didn’t care about a tea party at all, but I could tell it was important to Adrie. “Can’t we just leave him in the car with the windows open a bit?”

  “I don’t want him clawing the upholstery, or messing in the car!”

  “I’ll come out and take him for walks,” I said. “We won’t be gone long, will we?”

  “I don’t know how long we’ll be gone, and I don’t want to hurry. There are girls there your age who are daughters of my friends. You said you had no friends, so this is your chance—and the girls are waiting to meet you.”

  We pulled in to the driveway of a large restaurant and drove to the back, where several other cars were parked. Adrie pulled off the pavement and stopped near a grove of trees. Then we opened the windows just enough for my puppy to get a sniff of air.

  Adrie locked the car, and we headed into the restaurant. I looked back and could see my pup watching me from the window. His eyes were sad, and I could hear him whining.

  Inside, a waitress dressed in a dirndl dress and apron led us into a private banquet room where a group of women and girls were mingling and talking. There were only women there, and most of the daughters were younger than I was—under ten, I
was sure. There were only a few girls my age.

  I felt ill at ease and awkward. I knew Adrie would have to explain that I spoke only English since I was brought up in the United States. I was sure that fact would immediately make enemies for me.

  Adrie put her arm around me and introduced me to various women she knew. I just curtsied and smiled as Adrie had advised earlier. I could tell many women were surprised to learn that Adrie had a daughter at all. Then she had to explain that I was her daughter from America and that I did not speak German.

  Adrie wasn’t intimidated by questions. I knew she was telling them about our trip across the Atlantic in a submarine when she used the word Unterseeboot.

  When they heard this and asked many questions, Adrie translated for me.

  How exciting that I had had a trip in the Unterseeboot. Had I been afraid? Did I get seasick?

  When would I join the girls’ youth group?

  One of the women, Frau Himmelman, asked another question, and when Adrie answered “vierzehn,” I recognized, from the few German courses I’d taken in school, the word fourteen.

  She must have asked my age, because Adrie answered, “Fourteen.”

  I tapped Adrie’s arm. “You forgot. I’ll be fifteen next week.”

  “That’s right.” Adrie laughed and corrected herself. “Fünfzehn heute. Geburtstag.”

  This brought a chorus of congratulations and a few kisses on my cheek.

  “Alles Gute zum Geburtstag.”

  Immediately the woman beckoned two teenage girls who were watching from across the room. “Kommt hier her.”

  The two girls looked at each other, raised their eyebrows, and sauntered over to the group.

  Adrie whispered, “She wants to introduce you since they’re your age.”

  Once again, the German words flew around. The girls quickly smirked, and I nodded, not knowing what was being said other than an introduction.