Captain Lichtenberg did not appear worried, and he spoke to the authorities, introduced us as his passengers, and showed his papers and ours. A woman at the desk looked everything over, and stamped some of the documents. Then she noticed Watcher.
“Is that a guide dog?” she asked in German. I noticed a wooden plaque on her desk with the name Inga Josephson.
Barret answered. “I am blind and this is my dog.”
“Just a moment, please.” She disappeared into another office and closed the door.
“What’s happening?” I whispered to Captain Lichtenberg.
He shrugged.
When the door opened again, Inga Josephson came out—along with the lieutenant who had threatened me. “The officer here warned me about that dog,” she said. “He’s been waiting around, knowing you’d be arriving soon. He says that animal must not be allowed into the country.”
“What do you mean? He warned you about our dog?” I felt anger mounting.
“He said the dog attacked him when he boarded your boat.”
“Not true!” Captain Lichtenberg bellowed. “This officer attacked the girl. The dog was protecting her.”
“Show us your wounds—the bite marks,” Peder demanded of the lieutenant. “Show us!”
“I will only show my bruises to my doctor and my lawyer!”
“He’s lying,” I said. “He threatened me! He said he’d get even with me when we got to Copenhagen.”
Inga looked from the Lieutenant to the captain, back to me, then to Barret. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t know whom to believe. There is only one thing to do until I get a police officer or judge—or someone in authority here. We have a kennel to hold animals that enter the country under quarantine. Once they are pronounced healthy, their owners can retrieve them. We’ll simply put your dog there until we can establish if he is dangerous.” Once again she left us and went down a hallway to another office.
The lieutenant, who had been standing by, sneered at me. “I’ll have that dog destroyed tomorrow. That will teach you never to ridicule or embarrass a German officer!”
The woman came back up the hall with a man in work clothes. “Give me the dog. I’ll put him in the kennel,” he said in German.
My voice was rising. “No! This . . . person . . . says he will have him destroyed.”
“Nein,” the worker said. “I will not let that happen.”
Barret reached out for me and pulled me close to him. “Let them have him,” he whispered. “We’ll come back later. But take the collar off.”
I had forgotten about the collar. Watcher was more important to me than the jewels, but I knew we could not survive what might be ahead without them.
“I’ll take his collar and his harness,” I said reluctantly. “We will be back, you can be sure of that.” I turned to the lieutenant. “And if you lay a hand on him . . .” I was shouting now. “If you lay a hand on him, I will have Adolf Hitler himself destroy you!”
The lieutenant burst out laughing. “Oh, I’m shaking in fear.”
“You should believe her,” Captain Lichtenberg said. “She comes from powerful people.”
I had no idea why the captain said that, but I was glad he did. Perhaps it might worry the cruel, malicious man standing there. I hoped so.
With shaking hands, I removed Watcher’s collar and harness. He lapped my face and whined a bit—as if he knew something was wrong. “Go with the man, my sweet boy. I will come back for you soon.”
53
“Please, Save My Dog!”
Captain Lichtenberg invited us to stay at his apartment on the outskirts of town, and we accepted, having no idea where we were or how to speak Danish. I hoped it wasn’t far, as I would need his help early tomorrow when we went back for Watcher.
Since Peder lived near Captain Lichtenburg, we waited for a bus at a nearby shopping area. We were all tired, but I could only think about Watcher. Was he afraid in that strange place? Was he whining for me, wondering why I left him? He had never been without me since I adopted him. Even more frightening was the thought of that lieutenant, and his threat of putting my dog down.
The bus came, and we were about to get on, when I backed away. “No! I cannot leave Watcher here. That lieutenant will kill him. I won’t leave without him.”
Peder, who was already on board the bus, hopped off. The door closed and there we were, standing in a little group, travel weary, smelling of fish, and grubby from the trip.
I burst into tears, sank to the curb, and put my face in my hands and wept. “Watcher is waiting for me. I promised him I’d get him,” I wailed. “He’s wondering why I didn’t come back!”
The three men with me seemed helpless. “What can we do now? The kennel is probably locked up,” Peder said.
“We will go back early in the morning,” Captain Lichtenburg reminded me.
“No! I’m going now. The morning may be too late. That lieutenant is sure to get there before us. I am going to get Watcher out of there somehow! Go on without me. I don’t care.”
Captain Lichtenberg sat on the curb next to me and put his arm around my shoulders. “Let’s get something to eat, and then we’ll figure out what to do. You are tired and hungry and even worse, you had to deal with that bighead of a German.”
“I’m not hungry. I’m not tired!” I could hardly see through the tears. “I just want my dog. My sweet . . . wonderful dog. I need . . . Watcher and he needs me.” I sobbed.
Barret sat on my other side and took my hand.
“Barret,” I pleaded. “We’re in a strange place. Watcher is wondering where we are. Please, tell Captain Lichtenberg we must find him.”
“Wendy Vendy,” Barret whispered in my ear. “Don’t cry. We’ll go back for him, I promise.”
Captain Lichtenberg sighed. “All right, all right, Karin. We will go back and find him after we eat. You can bring Watcher a sausage or something.”
I nodded. “Then let’s go quickly.” I wiped my eyes and my nose on the bottom of my skirt. The Captain stood up and pulled me to my feet.
We all went to a small home-style restaurant. Captain Lichtenberg ordered a bowl of chicken soup and homemade biscuits for me. “Chicken soup is internationally known to make problems go away.” Then he ordered two sausages for Watcher. I was able to smile a little. Captain Lichtenberg was fast becoming another good friend.
But after dinner the men once again suggested we all go home and come back for Watcher in the morning.
“No! I have not changed my mind. I won’t go anywhere until I have Watcher with me.”
They knew by the firm tone of my voice that I meant what I’d said.
“All right,” said the captain. “Let’s go to the kennel before it gets totally dark.”
Daylight lingered late in the Danish summers, and it had melted into a soft dusk.
We all headed back to the customs office to search for the kennel. As we approached the grounds, I pointed to a sign on a nearby building decorated with pictures of cats, dogs, and rabbits and the word DYRLÆGE in big letters.
“This is a veterinarian,” Captain Lichtenberg said. “It’s near the port, so it might be where the animals are quarantined when they come into the country.”
I tried the front door, but it was locked, and there were no lights on inside.
We headed around to the back of the building and immediately a dog began to bark. “It’s Watcher!” I whispered excitedly. “I know his bark.”
We came upon an area of dirt and grass enclosed by a tall chain fence. Circling inside the enclosure, barking and whining, was my dog. He looked afraid and nervous, but when he saw us, he bounded to me, banging and jumping onto the fence.
“Watcher, look what we brought you.” I broke off a piece of sausage and fed it to him through the chain fence. He gulped it down quickly, his tail wagging like a whirligig.
“How do we get him out of here?” Peder said. “We might get caught.”
I tossed another pie
ce of sausage over the fence, and Watcher jumped for it, catching it in his mouth.
“I have an idea.” I walked along the perimeter, with Watcher following me on his side of the fence. Halfway around I found a spot where the earth was soft.
“Watcher!” I called softly, hoping no one could hear us or see us. “Here, boy.” I held out another bit of sausage and let him sniff it through the fence. “Come, Watcher. Fetch! Come get it.” I began digging the ground near the fence with my hands.
Watcher looked at me, his head cocked.
“Come!” I called again, still digging the ground at the bottom of the fence.
It took only a moment for my wise dog to figure it out. He crouched down, pushed his nose close to the fence, and began to dig wildly with both of his front paws. Dirt sprayed in all directions.
Captain Lichtenberg kept a watch around the corners of the building. “If we get caught . . .” He shook his head.
Meanwhile, Peder gave Barret a blow-by-blow description of how close we were to having Watcher on our side of the enclosure.
I continued scooping the dirt on my side, pulling rocks and stones out to clear the way for Watcher. “Good boy!” I said persistently. “Come on, Watcher, you can do it!”
My dog paused occasionally, looking up at me for praise and encouragement. Then down he went again, just as he did back on Lindenstrasse when he dug under the hedges to the yard next door.
Occasionally Watcher tried pushing himself into his tunnel, his tail sticking out behind him and wagging all the time, but then he would back out and dig some more. With each try, he disappeared for a longer time. Then, under my hands that were also digging away the dirt, I could tell he was close. I scraped away the dirt viciously, opening the hole so he could breathe.
“Keep moving, Watcher!” He pushed through the dirt and then wiggled the rest of his body out to freedom. He stood up unsteadily for a moment and shook the dirt from his coat several times. Then he sneezed, shook again, and leaped toward me, covering my face with kisses.
“Let’s get out of here,” Captain Lichtenberg whispered, “before we are arrested.”
Later we hosed Watcher down with water before bringing him into Captain Lichtenberg’s house. Barret and I sat on the steps and rubbed Watcher dry with old towels. Watcher wiggled and lapped my face. Suddenly I noticed something.
“Barret, both of Watcher’s ears are pointing up. He’s a perfect German shepherd!”
“He is proud of his escape success today,” Barret agreed as he felt Watcher’s ears. “His ears are standing at attention.”
54
Good-Byes in Copenhagen
The next afternoon, Captain Lichtenberg took Barret and me—with Watcher trotting along—to Solstice Jewelry, the store that was on my list of contacts. The captain knew Ingrid and Pier, the owners. I wondered if they might be part of the Danish resistance.
The storefront was made up of shining glass windows; behind them, handmade silver jewelry was on display—necklaces, rings, bracelets—many with unusual gemstones.
A bell jingled as we entered, and the couple, who were studying a catalog and busy on the telephone, looked up and smiled. While we waited, I looked around and wandered into a wing dedicated to the Royal Copenhagen porcelain Flora Danica. I had seen only one piece in my life. Adrie once brought a soup tureen to Mom and told us its value. To have hundreds of pieces of the costly dinnerware in one place was like being in a museum. Each dish, trimmed in twenty-four-karat gold, had a different, handmade flower on it. I could not tear myself away from the display. The store obviously focused on wealthy customers.
Finally the couple came over to us. “I’m looking for my father, Herr Nelson. Is he here?” I asked them in German.
“Ah! We’ve been so eager to see you!” the woman exclaimed, her face beaming. “I am Ingrid—and this is Pier, my husband.”
I was dismayed—this was not the correct answer! However, Pier immediately nudged his wife and answered, “Herr Nelson has gone to back to Sweden.”
“I am Karin, and this is Conrad, my brother.”
“We have been so worried about you.” Ingrid’s face became serious. “We knew you were in Hamburg. We never thought we’d see you after the bombings.”
“Hamburg was bombed the morning we left,” I said.
The couple looked at each other solemnly. “You were fortunate to have left when you did,” Ingrid said. “The firestorms were so destructive that the city was sealed off after the first day, and no one could leave after that.”
“The big bombers came, night after night, dropping tons of bombs, along with more incendiaries. Hamburg is destroyed,” Pier said sadly.
“Hamburg was a sea of flames, and they think fifty thousand were killed.” Ingrid’s eyes filled up with tears. “Oh, mein Gott, how long will this go on?” she asked dejectedly. “The fires and wind took oxygen away from the air—even inside the bomb shelters, people died.”
“The asphalt streets were melting, and human beings caught on fire then disappeared into the tar, dead,” Pier added.
“I hope Otto and Ulla are safe,” Barret said.
Pier shook his head. “I’ve heard nothing more from them.”
Ingrid tried to be cheerful. “But here you are safe and sound, and soon you will be in Sweden where there is no war.” She took me by the shoulders and looked me over. “You are the image of your mother. So beautiful! I see your dear father, David, too. ”
“Now that you are here, I will call my friend Erik,” Pier said. “He will take you directly to Sweden. It is not far, you know. Once you get to Helsingør, it’s just across the way, as you say in English. Only a few miles across the Sound. Come up to our house, up the stairs, now,” he directed. “I will call Erik and we will have a fine Danish frokost—lunch—and make plans for your trip.”
We ate eagerly. There were three types of open sandwiches, along with a crisp salad. For dessert, Ingrid served apple pastries filled with whipped cream. I knew the luncheon must have cost her many ration stamps, and we treasured the love and generosity she and Pier showed us.
I thought about Frieda and hoped she was safe—and that Adrie did not blame her for my running away. “I haven’t had such delicious food since I left Berlin.”
“I will wrap these sweets for your trip,” Ingrid said, noticing how often I helped myself to the food.
Then I gave her the dark ruby. “This is for you and Pier—from my father, David, and me. He knew you would help us. So he kept this for you, with gratitude.”
After dinner we waited in the living room for Erik. I sat on the sofa with Barret, and my dear, lovable Watcher lay at our feet. For the first time in months I was happy. Tomorrow we would be in Sweden! In just another day I would be able to call Mom and Daddy back in the States. The very thought of hearing their voices choked me up. How grateful we all should be for having such a good friend as Opa. Who knows how many lives he saved, despite danger to himself? What a faithful friend he’d been to the sweet father I never knew. He had safeguarded the jewels that turned out to be our assurance to get to freedom.
Mom and Daddy will love and help Barret. They will find a way to get us both back to the United States. I grinned and patted my dog. Wait until Daddy sees Watcher! He had always wanted a beautiful shepherd!
The doorbell rang, and Pier went downstairs to answer it. He came back with Erik, a big, tall man who took off his sailor’s cap and shook hands with all of us. “I hope you are able to leave tonight,” he said. “We have to drive to Helsingør first. That’s where my boat is.”
“How far away is that?” I asked.
“Not far, about twenty-five miles—or forty-four kilometers from here,” Captain Lichtenberg replied.
“Why do we leave from there?” I asked.
“Helsingør is on the Sound. It is the closest city to Sweden, only a few minutes ride by boat. You can actually see Malmö, Sweden, from the port,” the captain answered.
“No one mentioned
Helsingør until today,” I said suspiciously.
“We don’t always know exactly where we’ll be going—and even when we do, it’s not spoken. Escapes are often spur-of-the-moment, different, and always secret.”
I was eager to get on our way. “Come on, Bar—” His real name almost slipped out. “Come on, Conrad,” I said. “We’re going to Sweden!”
Barret got up and almost stumbled over Watcher. My dog hopped to his feet and leaned against Barret, as if to lead him.
Erik frowned and seemed surprised. “Is this boy blind?” he asked Pier softly.
“Ja, didn’t you know this?” Pier asked.
“Does he have a Swedish birth certificate?”
“No.” I moved closer to the two men. “He left Berlin in a hurry and was unable to get his Swedish documents.”
“We have a problem then.”
“Why?” I asked, becoming more and more concerned.
“The Red Cross knows you are both coming, but they will not take a German blind boy unless someone in Sweden will sponsor him,” Erik explained. “Does he have a sponsor?”
I suddenly felt cold. “I don’t think so.”
“Nevertheless, you are both minors. Do you have relatives in Sweden?
“That’s why they are going to Sweden. To find their Swedish relatives,” Captain Lichtenberg lied.
“If I need a sponsor, I can’t enter either,” I said.
“You will be allowed in Sweden. You have your papers, and you are not blind. They will have a place for you. It’s the boy who won’t be allowed in.”
Barret heard the concern in our voices. “What is wrong?”
“You are German. You have a country over there—Germany or Denmark. The Swedish government is willing to take in refugees, but they won’t take handicapped people, unless they have a sponsor—someone who will guarantee their care and safety. Do you have a sponsor in Sweden?” Erik asked Barret directly.
“No,” Barret answered. “No one mentioned it before.”
“So many disabled refugees are coming and need special care that it has become too great a burden on the Swedish government. Since you are German, not Swedish, you must have a Swedish sponsor.”
The Watcher Page 18