“I can put you up, but we have to get rid of your horse. Portuguese patrols might see it and get suspicious. I think I know who I can sell it to, and we can split the—” He was interrupted by a great commotion and cheering from the foreign troops in the street outside his window.
“What the … What’s going on out there?” He got up, went to the door, and shouted to a very young looking nearby British soldier. “What’s this?”
“Didn’t you hear? Germany just declared war on Portugal! That means the invasion is on—any day now. We’re going to kick those German asses!”
Windhoek, German South West Africa, 1916
CHAPTER 42
Iron Wheels of Pain and Sorrow
The wireless station Captain Markus Mathias had so meticulously upgraded lay in ruins, blown up by the very people who helped construct it. No one paid much attention to the pile of wreckage anymore. The British and South African military now occupied the garrison and all other military bases and towns in the country. They also requisitioned many of the better homes and estates.
Fortunately, Tomas Conrad’s ranch was told to accommodate only two South African officers because the ranch was so far out of town. It was unpleasant but manageable to have strangers, and the enemy, living so close. Helena, with baby Rupert, made a point of avoiding the two soldiers; however, since it was required to feed these military men, contact was unavoidable.
Of greater concern were the two boys, now young men, Wolfgang and Arnold, held in a prisoner of war camp—which camp was unknown. Tomas Conrad heard stories of the Boer camps that the South Africans had established, including for the families of fighters. They were brutal, savage places with starvation and other deprivations. Back then, the camps were used as a military tactic by the South Africans to demoralize the Boer fighters in the field. It worked but at a ghastly cost of starving women and children, with thousands of deaths.
Now every effort was made to find the two Conrad boys and petition for their release. The British and South African authorities, having subdued the German colonial militarily, now had to administer the colony. A strategy of benevolence was instituted for the purpose of pacifying the civilian population, so as to free up occupying troops to fight in France and German East Africa.
To the surprise and relief of Tomas and Helena, one of the officers billeted at their ranch, a Captain Llewellyn, one day announced the pending release of the two young Conrad men.
“It’s our new policy,” he began. “Captured German colonial troops are to be paroled to their families with a pledge not to provoke or support any insurrection.”
He smiled, looking at Helena. She was in riding breeches, sitting there with her father in the front parlor. “After all, before the war, we were good neighbors. Is that not true?” He radiated a broad grin.
“Ja, ja, of course, Captain. This is very good news. Do you know when we will see our boys?”
Several weeks passed with no word from the South African authorities as to when Arnold and Wolfgang would be released from the POW camp. One day Helena rode into town for mail and was elated at seeing Wolfgang’s handwriting on a pfennig postcard:
DEAR PAPA AND HELENA AND EVERYONE.
ARRIVING WINDHOEK BY TRAIN, MAY 15. WE ARE BOTH A BIT BETTER NOW. SO HAPPY TO BE COMING HOME. LOVE WOLF AND ARN
Tears rose in her eyes as a mix of emotions swept over her.
“Thank you, mein Gott, for delivering them home,” she said in a low voice, making the sign of the cross and touching the crucifix around her neck.
She read and reread the short passage, noting Wolfgang’s steady script: “a bit better.” A bit better from what? Were they injured, sick? Papa must see this right away. She hurried to her horse.
She unhitched the reins from the hitching post and was about to mount up when Captain Llewellyn came up behind her and said, “Here, Frau Mathias, let me help you up.”
“Oh, Captain Llewellyn. I’m fine, really.”
“Nonsense, I’ll give you a boost.” And with that, he moved in close, offering her his cupped hands. She reluctantly stepped in, and he lifted her up as she swung her other leg over the horse.
He lingered a moment with his hand on her boot. “Fine boots for a fine rider,” he said softly with a grin.
“Yes, Captain. They were made in Berlin.” With that, she pulled her reins to the side and gave her horse a little kick and rode off. Captain Llewellyn, still grinning, watched her, sitting high in the saddle, the sun shining on her stiffened back, depart.
She was riding her best horse, and it was lathered up by the time she got to the ranch. She dropped the reins as she slid down from the saddle. Sambolo ran up to take the horse.
“Hi, Sam. Papa, Papa, good news!” She shouted with enthusiasm as she entered the house. “Are you here?”
Her sister, Christiana, came into the parlor, wiping her hands with a towel. “He’s out … be back for supper. What’s got you so?”
“Look, look, Christiana. We just got a postcard from Wolfgang and Arnold! They’ll be arriving May 15 by train. Isn’t that wonderful?” Christiana came close and read the card herself, as Michael and Norbert came running in.
“That’s wonderful news! Wait till Papa sees this,” Christiana bubbled.
“What is it?” Humboldt exclaimed, craning his neck to see the postcard. At dinner, everyone wanted to talk at once and had an opinion as to what “a bit better” meant. Tomas offered, “Now, now, whatever their condition, we can thank Gott they are coming home alive, and if Wolf and Arn are traveling by train, they must be reasonably fit.”
Early the morning of May 15, the entire Conrad clan was at the train station in Windhoek. “When is the train due?” The same question was asked several times by first one and then another of Tomas’s sons.
“You know it’s a slow train, making stops along the line, loading, unloading. It’ll be along shortly, any time now,” Helena spoke hopefully.
“Look! Smoke!” one of the boys exclaimed. “Here she comes!” The snorting, coal-burning locomotive could be seen in the far distance, swaying back and forth on the long ribbon of track.
A surprisingly large crowd of civilians edged closer to the station platform, all eyes peering down the rails. Tomas Conrad glanced around at the familiar faces and strangers near his family. Several black-veiled women were dabbing their eyes and holding handkerchiefs to their faces. A nearby woman sobbed softly. He heard her husband say quietly, “Now, now, Mother. He’s at peace now.”
Helena also heard the man, and a shudder rippled down her spine. She met her father’s eyes for a long moment and gripped his arm tightly. He squeezed her hand in reassurance. Helena quickly wiped away a tear.
She and her father realized, in that moment, what was being delivered to the vanquished families of the defeated and fallen warriors. The brave young men had answered the call of their Kaiser, to a cause, to a fight, most knew was lost before it even began. And now the iron wheels rolled ever forward with their cargo of pain, anguish, and sorrow.
Not everyone was aware of the pending grief for some families. The Conrad boys were laughing and at horseplay with several others of their own age, off to the side of the station. Christiana was with two young ladies, chatting merrily and looking lovely in their long dresses. Most everyone was dressed as if going to church on Sunday. The return of their soldiers was a major patriotic event for the people of the town and surrounding farmers and ranchers.
The occupying South African and British military authorities turned a blind eye to the many Imperial German flags flying and the German colonial flag for South West Africa, with its symbolic long-horned Cape buffalo head in the center.
As the train grew closer, the station master and several other railroad men ordered the crowd back: “Make room, please. Make room for the disembarking passengers. Make room.” The crowd reluctantly but obediently backed away, as the hissing, steaming engine clanged its bell and let out a long, deafening blast from its horn.
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sp; The screeching steel-on-steel brakes brought the black, sooty machine to a halt. There was an eerie silence in the crowd as everyone waited for some word, some order, from some authority to tell them what was next. Nothing happened.
The stillness was finally broken by the sound of the heavy wooden doors sliding open on the nearest baggage car. All eyes were fixed on the dark opening as a large luggage cart was pulled up parallel to the opening by two workers. They hopped up onto the cart and faced inward. Slowly, a white form appeared and was slid out onto the cart.
A fresh, raw wooden coffin sat there in the bright sun. A gasp was heard. Soft murmurs passed through the onlookers. Another white box appeared, then another, and another. The cart pulled away with eight stacked coffins. Another cart appeared and pulled away with seven more stacked coffins. A small group of black veils melted out of the crowd and followed the carts.
Unbeknownst to the people at the station, the passengers were asked not to disembark until the dead and wounded were offloaded. Next, a second baggage car’s doors slid open. This time, a dozen men in German uniforms with red crosses on their arms hopped onto the platform. They formed a line, and as stretchers were brought out, four men took the ends of the stretchers and carried them a short distance to a shaded overhang. The stretchers were lined up with several attendants overseeing them.
Each soldier had a cardboard name tag and other pertinent information pinned to his covering. Most were smiling. Some were bandaged, and some sat up and waved to their families who scurried to greet them. Soon the shaded station platform was crowded with stretchers. Another baggage door slid open and the process continued.
“Papa, I’m going over and check the stretchers,” Helena said. Christiana saw Helena moving through the crowd and broke off from her friends and followed her.
“Are they here?” Christiana’s voice sounded concerned.
“I don’t know. I’ll check this row of stretchers. You check that one.” The two women moved swiftly down the lines of soldiers, trying not to stare at the outstretched men. The women didn’t pause to read names, but they scanned the faces of the five dozen or so casualties in the two rows.
“Neither of them are here, thank God,” said Christiana as the two women met at the end of the lines.
“Now what shall we do?”
“Let’s go back through, just to be sure. You take my row this time, and pay particular attention to the quiet ones. Wolf and Arn are probably on the train, but let’s just be sure about the ones here.”
Half-way down the line, Christiana stopped and stared intently at one stretcher. She slowly backed up, almost toppling over. Helena noticed and came over quickly.
“What? What is it?”
“That bandaged man … all bandaged. I couldn’t see his face, but the hair; it looks like Arnold’s.” She whimpered.
“Hush, Sister, hush. You’ll alarm the men,” she said in a forced whisper.
“Let’s see.” The two women approached the bandaged man, one on each side of the stretcher. They both gathered their long skirts and swept them behind so they could kneel.
Helena reached for the tag attached to a wide, white bandage wrapped around the upper arm of the still man. She looked intently at the tag for longer than necessary. She leaned over and spoke gently, “Arn, Arn, it’s me, Helena.” She made a heroic effort to control the quiver in her voice. “You’re home … We’re here to take you home … Can you hear me?”
Christiana’s hand went to her throat. Her other hand, the back of it, covered her mouth. There was a long, silent pause. Helena leaned in closer, to within inches of the bandaged head. Flies buzzed around the bandages.
Helena could smell the dreadful smell of soaked bandages where the swaying, bumpy train had broken scabs and opened stitched, half-healed wounds. Her eyes focused on the chin and corner of mouth visible to her. She saw it move. The lips quivered.
She moved even closer. Waited. Finally a lone word, half-spoken. She waited another moment, touching the tips of her fingers to the exposed chin. His head responded and moved ever so lightly toward the touch. Again the word, just audible now, was spoken. “Home” is all he said.
CHAPTER 43
A Trail of Falling Wild Flowers
We were caught in an artillery barrage from their navel guns. Well, we found out later it was their naval guns. We’d heard a distant thunder, and five or ten seconds later, the earth around us just exploded.” Wolfgang was propped up in an overstuffed chair in the front parlor, with his injured leg outstretched on an ottoman. He was talking to his father and brothers. He and Arnold were finally back at the ranch. The week since they arrived home held a mixture of powerful emotions.
“This cursed war! What has it got us? What were they thinking back in Europe?” a disheveled Tomas stammered.
The original shock of Arnold’s wounds lingered in the house. His body and head received and still contained dozens of small shards of steel, some very tiny, others up to an inch long, and most resembling splinters of wood, small and jagged. The larger pieces of the exploded naval shell were removed by doctors at the aid station and later in hospital. But the small fragments, some unknown, some too deep or too dangerous to remove, remained. All that could be done had been done. He was sent home to free up the doctors’ time. His fate rested in his body’s ability to fight off the countless, small infections.
A nurse hired to change dressings also medicated the wounds. All the family attended Arn as best they could, at least one by his side at all times.
Wolfgang was the lucky one. He was not out in the open when the shell exploded. His broken leg was the result of being hit by the head and neck of a cavalry horse, torn apart and flung in all directions. The rider of the horse simply disappeared in the blast.
True resentment grew with two injured boys home and the South Africa officers still residing at the Conrad ranch. They gave token acknowledgement of the terrible effects of the short war on the colony. Tomas Conrad and Helena felt obliged to continue attending most meals with the South Africans. The other family members refused.
“Now don’t be disrespectful toward them,” Tomas counseled his family. “They could cause real trouble. Just stay away from them as much as possible. They won’t stay here forever.” He hoped silently that it was true.
As the days passed, high fever and delirium plagued Arnold. He accepted little food. Even water was hard for him to get down. He wasted away slowly, but no one wanted to confront the truth. On a bright afternoon in early June, Christiana happened by to look in on her brother. The nurse and her father were giving a sponge bath to Arnold. He lay there in silence, with only a towel covering his abdomen. The poor young man was a mere skeleton, and it was the first time Christiana had seen her brother unclothed.
She stared in wide-eyed disbelief. Her shock at seeing Arn’s rib bones and skinny, withered arms and legs was too much to endure. She let out a gasp that turned her father’s head. He saw the fright and pain in his daughter’s face and came to her, stepping to block her view. He spoke gently, “Now, now, steady girl, steady. He’s resting quietly. Come, and sit awhile.”
He signaled the nurse to cover Arnold and leave for a few minutes. The two of them sat together on chairs close to Arnold.
“Arnold spoke to me last night for a few moments, Christiana dear. He told me he knew he was dying.” Tomas stopped to clear his throat, then continued, “He said he had talked to Gott, and when he told me that, he seemed in a beautiful place in his mind. It is we who feel this great pain … our helplessness … and …” Tomas wiped a tear from his cheek and sniffled. Christiana leaned in toward her father, their heads touching. Tears dripped in silence.
Unexpectedly and almost shockingly, they heard a distant, familiar voice whisper in half- breaths, “Ah … it’s all right … I’m home.”
They both looked up. As Christiana clutched her rosary and sobbed gently, she held her brother’s cold, bony hand and kissed it.
Arnold coughed and gag
ged, and his body stiffened. The nurse, just outside the door, came in, and with a rubber, bulbous device, she suctioned Arnold’s mouth and throat. He sank back into a calmer state. The nurse silently took his pulse and listened to his heart with a stethoscope. After taking her readings, she signaled Tomas, and the two of them quietly left the room. The nurse gently explained, “He’ll be going soon, sir. There is very low blood pressure and almost no heartbeat. I’m so very sorry, Herr Conrad.”
Tomas nodded his head. “Thank you, Frau Bruin. I’ll tell the others. Best you go back in and keep Christiana company.”
“Ja, ja, of course.”
Tomas encountered Michael in the kitchen. “Michael, go get your brothers and go to Arnold’s room. Where is Helena?”
“In the garden, Papa. What’s the matter?”
“Just do it, son.”
Tomas found her sitting in the shade with a bunch of wild flowers in her hand. She saw him coming. She knew from the expression on her father’s face and by his urgent pace what he was going to say. She said it first, saving her father the pain.
“I know, Papa. I know. It’s time.” She stood up as her father approached, and they hugged for a long moment. As they hurried back to the house, a trail of falling wild flowers cascaded from her hand.
CHAPTER 44
Kalvarianhof, Bavaria, 1916
How are they going to continue to enforce these new rationing laws, Papa? Did you read of the food riots in Munich and dozens of cities—even Berlin?” Katherina spoke without looking up from the newspaper. She was sitting in the front parlor with Otto and Freidl Levi at Kalvarianhof.
“The Kaiser says this, and the Kaiser says that, but there’s no progress in this awful war, and the blockade has cut off all our food imports.” She sat up and peered intently at the open newspaper.
“Mama, did you see the new list of rationed foods? Meat, bacon, ham, sugar, butter, cooking fats, coffee, cheese, and they say here, maybe milk and eggs! There are quantities for each item per adult—oh, you’ll have to read it.”
The Storm That Shook the World Page 25