‘Look, Mutti, here he comes!’ I said, clutching her hand with excitement. I was surprised at the clarity of the pictures, considering how far they’d come.
‘Who’d ever have thought?’ whispered Mutti. ‘As a child we were told stories about the man in the moon but now we’ll know what’s really up there.’
Armstrong reached the surface of the moon and took a step forward. I squeezed Mutti’s hand. The world had just entered a new age and we’d witnessed perhaps the most significant event of all time.
‘How incredible!’
‘But there’s nothing there. It’s desolate.’ Mutti looked bemused, her eyes wide with astonishment.
‘It’s a new world, Mutti, with new possibilities. Who knows what they’ll discover? It’s only the beginning.’
She nodded but I could see that she wasn’t so sure. I was glad I was with Mutti but I knew she didn’t understand what this moment really represented to me. I couldn’t wait to see Erich. He’d have watched the moon walk on TV and I knew that he’d share my view of the event, the optimism I felt that humankind could achieve anything.
‘Did you see it?’ I asked as I took off my coat, slung it over a chair and put my handbag on the kitchen counter. I loved those counters, white laminate that contrasted so beautifully with the floor-to-ceiling timber cupboards. Erich was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and a cigarette. He smiled when he saw me, my excitement transferring to him.
‘It was spectacular,’ he said. ‘I loved Armstrong’s words, so inspiring, but I particularly liked what Aldrin called the surface of the moon: “magnificent desolation”.’
I boiled the electric kettle and spooned instant coffee into a cup. ‘Yes, that was such a perfect description. It does have its own type of beauty. You know, Mutti didn’t understand the point of going to the moon, because there’s nothing there.’
‘What did you expect? Your mother thought coming to Australia was the end of the earth.’
‘I suppose the moon landing was much like coming to Australia.’
‘How’s that?’
‘We didn’t know what to expect, coming to a new world. It was a fresh beginning for us.’ I sat opposite him with my coffee, moving the small vase of wattle to one side. ‘We wanted a better world and life for our family and were prepared to find something new. When we arrived, the place was so totally alien to us, and so very far away from home, far from help. We had to rely on each other and work things out on our own.’ I sipped my coffee.
‘You’re absolutely right. It did feel like we were going to the moon.’
‘That first step onto the moon by Armstrong reminded me of our first step off the Skaubryn in Fremantle. The first time we stood on Australian soil. I was terrified and excited all at the same time.’
‘We both were,’ said Erich. ‘And look at us now. After everything we’ve been through, we’ve prevailed.’
‘We have endless possibilities now that we never had before. And after what happened today, the world will never be the same again.’
‘Would you change it?’ asked Erich softly.
I stared into his luminous green eyes and a surge of love threatened to bring tears to my eyes. ‘Not a single thing.’
*
The My Lai Massacre received widespread media coverage in November, with articles describing the event and horrific, grisly photographs printed in newspapers and magazines and shown on television.
South Vietnamese civilians, mainly women, children and old men, had been shot dead as suspected Viet Cong guerrillas in their villages by US troops just over eighteen months earlier. The US Army had attempted a cover-up but the soldiers and photographers who saw the attack and its aftermath had been trying to bring this atrocity to the eyes of the world ever since. The photos showed bodies strewn on dirt roadways, thrown in irrigation ditches, children dead outside the doors to their homes; women and children crying and in distress, apparently seconds before they were killed. Villages burning to the ground. Hundreds were slaughtered in cold blood.
‘I can’t believe something like that can happen in this day and age,’ I said.
Erich and I were sitting at the kitchen table reading the papers, Wolfie flopped on the verandah at the sliding door, taking in the morning sun. ‘After everything that happened during the last war . . . How can human beings do this to each other?’
‘War’s the same anywhere,’ said Erich. ‘A pack mentality prevails when men in those circumstances are living with constant fear. I’ve seen it before. War can bring out the worst in people but it can also bring out the best. Think about the bravery of those men who tried to help the villagers, the men who brought these horrendous crimes to light.’
I wondered if he was thinking about the terrible massacres in Lemberg that had occurred before he arrived as a young technical inspector for the Luftwaffe. I kissed his hand then nodded.
‘This war has to stop.’
*
Erich and I celebrated twenty-five years of marriage in 1970 and I spent a lot of time planning a silver anniversary party for us, to celebrate the good life we had been blessed with.
We had the party at home, inviting family and close friends, with finger food and drinks, followed by coffee and cake. Mutti asked Hilde to make the anniversary cake; she had begun a cake-decorating business from home and was preparing to expand into Mutti’s room once she left to marry Rudi. The cake was glorious, two tiers covered in white fondant icing and decorated with edible red roses, silver satin ribbon and beautiful icing lacework, with ERICH AND LOTTE, 25TH ANNIVERSARY written in thick silver lettering. It far overshadowed anything we’d had for either of our wedding parties.
Greta and Johanna came shopping with me for a new dress. I was excited and nervous at the same time. I hadn’t shopped for clothes like this since I was a girl. In fact the last time was trying wedding gowns in the fashionable salon in Munich when Heinrich and I had been engaged. Mutti had criticised everything I’d tried but I had known when I put on the perfect gown. It had made me feel beautiful. All I wanted was to find that again.
The girls single-mindedly sorted through the rows of clothing until we had a pile draped over my arm.
‘This will be fun,’ said Johanna, leading the way to the fitting rooms, grinning widely. They waited on the seats outside for me to parade past them like a model on the catwalk.
‘No, too boring,’ said Johanna as I twirled in front of her in one dress and I had to agree.
‘You can do better,’ they said after a few more fittings. Some dresses were lovely and certainly flattering but we all knew they weren’t quite right.
‘Definitely not me,’ I said about another dress.
‘Try on the next on,’ ordered Greta handing me a dress. ‘I know it doesn’t look much but it might be nice on.’
I burst into laughter after squeezing myself into the outfit. ‘I look ridiculous,’ I called out. ‘I’m forty-five, not fifteen.’
‘Come on, you have to show us,’ pleaded Greta but I could hear the laughter in her voice.
‘All right.’ I walked back out to them still giggling, like a teenage girl in fact. The girls immediately broke down in laughter too.
‘Maybe not,’ said Johanna.
‘Too modern,’ said Greta, still laughing.
‘How does anyone fit into this scrap of material?’ I said, gazing down at the mini skirt and the bright lime and pink patterns. ‘Just looking at it gives me a headache.’
Johanna wiped the tears from her eyes.
‘Give me the black sleeveless one,’ I said, shaking my head in mock disgust.
It fitted perfectly – simple, elegant and modern. The black velvet hugged my figure in all the right places.
Both girls stood as soon as I came out.
‘It’s gorgeous on you,’ said Greta, nodding.
‘I love it, Mutti,’ said Johanna. ‘I thought it would be too plain and ordinary but the velvet just makes it.’
‘Do
you know that my wedding dress was black velvet? We couldn’t get material after the war, let alone white bridal fabric. Your Vati wanted me to have something new and found the velvet for me.’
‘That makes this dress all the more special,’ said Johanna. ‘Vati will be surprised. You have to get it.’
I stared into the mirror. I wanted Erich to be amazed. I didn’t think I looked too different from the way I had on our wedding day. I was more curvaceous now, not thin as we all had been at the end of the war. My blue eyes were bright and my face was still smooth, but my features were softer like I’d settled into my body. I’d taken to wearing my blonde hair in a short bob with soft bangs that fell to my cheekbones. It was easy to manage and suited my face quite well but silver streaks were becoming noticeable, particularly around my temples. There was one big difference, I decided. Age had given me life experience and confidence and this was what I saw in the mirror. That’s what made me feel beautiful and sexy, not only the dress.
‘It only needs one thing,’ I said, turning as I looked in the mirror. ‘A splash of colour.’
‘Maybe a red silk flower on the bodice,’ said Greta, frowning slightly. ‘I know where we can go.’
‘Vati won’t know what’s hit him when he sees you,’ said Johanna, grinning.
‘Thank you both for helping me with this. The dress is perfect.’ I clasped both their hands. ‘I’ve loved shopping with you. We’ll have to do it more often.’
Johanna’s eyes were sparkling with excitement. She was enjoying the day as much as I was. ‘We’re not finished with you yet. You need shoes and we’re going to make you an appointment at the hairdresser’s.’
‘Then we’re going to take you to lunch,’ said Greta, kissing my cheek and smiling.
*
Erich looked suave and elegant like James Bond, wearing a dinner suit and bow tie, his salt and pepper hair slicked back from his face.
‘My God, you’re breathtaking,’ he said to me when I emerged from the bedroom. He pulled me to him and whispered, ‘Let’s forget the party.’
It was just the reaction I’d hoped for. ‘You don’t look so bad yourself,’ I said.
Greta called out impatiently from the kitchen and I sighed. There was still a lot to do before everyone arrived.
‘Well, you’ll just have to find me at the end of the night.’
‘Wait! Don’t go yet. I have something for you.’
‘What is it?’
‘Come and you’ll see.’
I let him take my hand and lead me into the lounge room, where Johanna was adding the final touches to the decorations and placing a vase of native Australian flowers on the table as the centrepiece. I saw her grin before she left the room.
He reached into his jacket pocket. ‘I wanted to give you this before the guests arrive. It’s something I’ve wanted to do for years but was never able to. You deserve this and so much more.’ He pulled out a small jewellery box. He opened the box and presented it to me. ‘To show you how much I love you now . . . and for eternity.’
‘God in heaven!’ I looked up at him in amazement. It was a diamond-encrusted ring, the stones set in yellow gold. ‘It’s so beautiful. It must have cost you a fortune.’
‘I had it made for you . . . I couldn’t give you much when we married.’
‘Erich, I was happy. My wedding ring was a symbol of our union but this – this is exquisite.’ I blinked furiously, refusing to allow my eyes to fill with tears after all the effort I’d put in to my makeup.
‘Try it on.’ He gently prised the ring from its case and slipped it onto my finger, next to my wedding band.
‘It’s a good fit,’ I murmured as I lifted my hand, both of us mesmerised by how the diamonds caught the light and sparkled brilliantly.
‘I used your ring size but you can never be sure until it’s on,’ he said, smiling at the delight and shock on my face. ‘Do you like it?’
He’d gone to so much effort and expense and put so much thought into what he thought I’d like. And he was right, I adored it. I kissed him and threw my arms around him.
‘It’s perfect. I love you.’
‘Happy anniversary, my darling,’ he said, holding me tight.
It was a wonderful evening, filled with sparkling conversation, delicious food, wine, champagne, spirits and everyone we loved around us. Among the noise and laughter, Erich and I found each other for a moment, and sat unnoticed in the corner while we took the evening in.
‘Aren’t our daughters gorgeous?’ I said, sipping my Southern Comfort, watching Greta and Johanna offering food to the guests. ‘Such perfect hostesses.’ They’d refused to allow me to help, telling me it was my night with their father. The girls looked like models in their short dresses, Greta with her dramatic eye makeup and dark hair swept high off her face and cascading down her back. Johanna’s blonde locks were piled on her head, curls falling elegantly over her shoulders.
‘They take after their mother,’ Erich said, his eyes shining with pride. He kissed me lightly on the lips and ran his finger across the fabric of my dress. ‘Black velvet. My favourite.’
‘You remembered.’
‘Of course, and I want you just as much now as the first time I saw you in your wedding dress.’
I blushed at the memory of our wedding night and how he’d made me feel.
Twenty-five years on and I still thought he was the most handsome man. Now it was the more intimate and small nuances that made him so beautiful to me: the creases at his eyes, the way his mouth curved in silent amusement, the faraway look in his eyes when he was deep in thought and the way he strode across a room with total self-assurance, comfortable with who he’d become.
‘I see you remember that night too. I think we’ll have to have an encore performance later. I want to see your soft white skin against that velvet again.’
‘Do you now? We’d better get on with our party then, so our guests can go home full, drunk and happy.’
He sighed with mock exasperation and got to his feet, helping me up, and we were the centre of attention again.
It was just Greta, Erich and me for breakfast the next morning. Johanna had gone out early to the university farm at Cobbitty. As tired and fuzzy-headed as I was, I could feel the tension in Greta as she joined us at the table. She seemed nervous, sitting on the edge of the chair, her back stiff, eyes darting between Erich and myself.
‘I’ve decided to apply to join the medical team the hospital’s putting together for next year’s tour,’ she said without preamble. She’d finished her nursing course the year before and was now completing further studies in emergency nursing and surgical care, all while continuing to work on the surgical wards.
Bleary-eyed, I put my coffee cup down and frowned. ‘What are you talking about? What tour?’
‘The hospital’s recruiting nurses to apply for the medical team to go to Vietnam.’
‘You want to go there?’ Erich asked, incredulous.
‘To Vietnam? Where the war is?’ I had to clarify, sure I hadn’t heard right.
She nodded, her lips tight. ‘I want to help look after the casualties of the war, people who are injured from the fighting.’
‘The soldiers?’ I wondered if it had to do with what had happened to Peter.
‘No, the South Vietnamese people. Civilian surgical teams go to the provincial hospitals, help take on the load of local casualties, teach Western medical techniques to local Vietnamese doctors and nurses, and provide help to local communities and villages. The military medical teams work in the military hospitals.’
‘Tell me if I’m wrong, but aren’t these hospitals within the battle zones?’ Erich’s tone made it quite clear that Greta was skating on thin ice.
She only shrugged, choosing to ignore her father’s rising anger. ‘It’s where the work needs to be done. These people are suffering and have less access to medical treatment than our soldiers. Any injuries they sustain could destroy not only their livelihoods but the
lives of their families. The letters that’ve come back to the hospital talk not just about terrible casualties but health problems, malnutrition, young children starving and suffering from preventable diseases.’ She looked at the embroidered tablecloth, one we’d brought from Germany, unable to meet either of us in the eye.
I glanced at Erich helplessly, shock preventing me from gathering my thoughts.
‘No, you’re not going. Your mother and I didn’t leave a war-torn country and travel to the other side of the world for you to place yourself in harm’s way. You know how we both feel about this war – about any war.’
‘Vati, you can’t protect me forever. I’m grown up now and I can make my own decisions. I wanted to do this sooner, but I won’t be considered until I turn twenty-five and I’ve had enough experience.’ She stared at her father defiantly. ‘Besides, I’m not supporting the war – I’m helping the innocent victims of it. Isn’t that what you’ve taught us to do, what you do? Help those less fortunate, stand up for those who can’t help themselves?’
I took Greta’s hand. ‘It’s too dangerous. What if something happens to you?’
‘I’ll be all right, Mutti. I’m Australian and have access to all the security and medical care I need.’
I could see the burning determination in her eyes, the same as I’d seen in her father’s eyes. She was right. She was old enough to decide. I was married with two children at her age. And yet she was so innocent; she didn’t know what war did to a person. I’d prayed that she and Johanna would never find out.
There was a battle ahead of us and I didn’t know which side I’d be on. I was terrified of what might happen to her, how she’d come back traumatised and scarred. But growing up in Australia meant that she had opportunities to do anything and the freedom and confidence to pursue them. The world had changed and women were demanding their place by the side of men as equals, as it should be. By denying her this opportunity, I was denying Greta her place in the world, I was denying her expression of who she was – as my mother had denied me. Just like her father and me, Greta was passionate about helping others, fighting for those who couldn’t fight for themselves.
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