She lost her way several times, but she kept heading as best she could toward the south. In the east, the sky was beginning to lighten imperceptibly, and this aided her in her directions. She gradually drew nearer more familiar surroundings. They reached the Sackheim District as dawn began to soften the darkness. When they finally reached their street, she led them onto it a few blocks away from the townhome. She stared down the street, searching for vehicles that might be patrolling or parked out in front of their dwelling. There were none. This didn’t necessarily mean anything. The Gestapo could be hiding inside, or they might arrive at any moment. She was desperate; she didn’t even know what they would do when they arrived. She walked carefully down the street, passing one house, then another. Britta was pulling on her sleeve, urging her to continue.
“I’m so tired,” she whispered.
“Trude, what are you doing out there?” came a voice. She turned in surprise to see Frau Werner, the old widow who had warned them so long ago. She stood on her front steps, watching them walk by. The kindly woman motioned for them to come up. Trude hesitated at first. Then she grabbed Britta by the hand and walked quickly up the stairway and into Frau Werner’s home.
“What are you doing?” her neighbor repeated. “There have been cars outside your house all night. Men coming and going!”
Trude put her finger to her lips and then closed the door behind her. She hoped against hope that none of the other neighbors had seen them come in.
“The Gestapo is after us,” she whispered. “We were trying to escape. They’ve arrested Johannes.”
The woman’s eyes widened. “Whatever do you mean?”
“You know we are Jews. We’ve been in hiding for almost a year. We had a plan to get to Sweden, but it was a trap. We were betrayed by the Gestapo. They have Johannes. Britta and I fled. We have no place to go.”
Frau Werner stared at both of them, her face a mask of shock. Trude could see a conflict waging inside the elderly woman. She started to speak several times but stopped. Trude saw her expression harden resolutely.
“You are wrong, Frau Bensheim. You do have a place. You will stay here.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Königsberg
July 1940
At the celebration dinner for Erik, the excited chatter of his family did nothing to calm the storm in his mind.
“You’ll never believe the Officers Club,” said Corina. “I’ve never seen such expensive decorations, and they treated me like royalty. I made a reservation there on Saturday at seven. Karl might join us. He’s so excited to hear about all your adventures.”
“Let the boy catch his breath a little,” admonished Peter. “Give him a few days before you worry about that nonsense.”
They weren’t really squabbling, Erik noted. Even their traditional irritation with one another was glazed under the varnish of his promotion and decoration. An air of giddy excitement permeated the dinner.
“Show me your new medal again,” said Greta, beaming at her father. She held her hands out greedily. Erik passed her the Iron Cross First Class and she held it up, closing an eye and holding the object close, as if inspecting a scientific specimen.
“I never won one of those,” said Peter. “Second Class was the best I ever achieved. They handed those out in the last war like breakfast.” Greta passed him the medal, and he examined it, turning it over and over in his fingers like a happy child. “But First Class, now that’s something else. Now we have a real hero in the family.”
“Your new uniform will be here in just a couple days,” said Corina excitedly. “I ordered it right away. I can’t wait to see you in it and to pin your new decoration on. Think what they will say at the club.”
His mother reached over to the middle of the table, grabbing a large bowl of potatoes and spooning several onto Erik’s plate. She was silent, but he could see the pride and happiness gleaming out of her. None of them understood. He felt no pride, no accomplishment. He’d done his duty, nothing more. Worse, he struggled now with the pain of what he’d witnessed. What Sauer had done.
He stumbled to his feet.
“What’s wrong?” asked Corina.
“It’s nothing,” he said. “Just a little indigestion.” He patted his stomach. “I’m not used to all this rich food.”
“Sit back down,” she demanded. “I made this meal especially for you.”
Erik knew his mother had made the meal, but he didn’t bother to correct her.
“Let him go,” said Peter, helping himself to another serving of meat. “Plenty of time to celebrate.”
Erik stepped swiftly out of the kitchen and into the sitting area. He unbuttoned the top of his shirt and sat down heavily, out of breath, trying to collect himself. He felt the sweat drawing in beads on his forehead.
“What is it, my boy?” Peter entered the room and took the other chair. Erik observed concern from his father. He didn’t answer right away.
“Tell me what’s on your mind,” said Peter finally.
“It’s worse than you said.”
“The fighting?” said Peter, shaking his head. “I told you I couldn’t really tell you how it would be.”
“He killed them. Dozens of them. All unarmed. Nobody stopped him.”
“What are you talking about?” his father asked.
“The lieutenant. Sauer. At the end of the fighting in France. He rounded up a couple dozen prisoners and had them shot. English. Right in front of all of us. We let him do it.”
Peter was silent for a moment. He took out his pipe and lit it, taking a few deep puffs and leaning back, closing his eyes before he responded.
“You’re right. I never saw anything like that. Surely he won’t get away with it.”
“He did. Captain Vogel placed him under arrest. I thought there would be justice, but the command car was strafed and Vogel was killed.” Erik’s voice shook as he described the incident. “Sauer was in the car, too, but he survived. Nobody else has come forward to accuse him. I don’t know what to do.”
“That can’t be the end of it,” said Peter. “Sounds like plenty of people saw what happened.”
Erik nodded. “Lots of folks dead center, but no one is going to come forward. I was the highest-ranking person there. It’s my responsibility to do something. I just don’t know what to do.”
Peter puffed away a little longer this time, then he nodded. “That’s murder. You have to report it.”
“You will do nothing of the kind.” Erik looked up to see Corina standing in the doorway. She had overheard the conversation.
“This is none of your business,” said Peter. “You don’t know anything about the military.”
“I may not know a thing about the army, but I know plenty about life,” she said. “Erik was just promoted and decorated. Now you want him to go and report his former commander? What do you think will come of that? Look at where we are now. My husband is an officer. We are making our way in the world. We can’t risk that for nothing.” She placed her hands on Erik’s shoulders, her slender fingers digging into his back.
“The death of all those men was nothing?” asked Erik. He was shocked at his wife’s words.
“How is it any different than anybody else that dies?” she asked, releasing her hands. “Thousands of people died in those battles. A few seconds before, any one of those men would’ve gladly killed you. I’m not saying what he did was right, but it’s not your responsibility to risk our lives and our future.” She turned to him. “You need to keep quiet.”
“I can’t believe you,” said Peter, shaking his head in obvious disgust. “Always looking after yourself.”
“Someone has to,” she snapped back, taking a step toward her father-in-law. “I’m the only one that looks after this family. A fine pair you two were, unemployed, sitting in this room just a few years ago wondering aloud what you would do with yourselves. I was the one who acted. I brought Erik to Karl, and look at where we are now. We aren’t going to risk ever
ything I put together.”
“All you can do is chirp about everything you’ve done for us!” shouted Peter. “You think of yourself and nothing else.” He half rose out of his seat.
“I think of this family, that’s true.” She turned to Erik, her voice calm and pleading. “Dearest, I know how hard all that must’ve been,” she said. “I understand how you feel, and I think you do need to do something, but don’t talk to the military. I have a better idea. You should go see Karl. I know that he will be able to give you the best advice on who to report this to, what action should be taken. He only has your best interest at heart.”
Erik hadn’t thought about Karl. His wife’s friend was in a different branch of the SS, but he had many connections and was much more familiar with the party than Erik.
“You might be right,” he admitted. “Perhaps I should talk to Karl first.”
“Of course you should,” she said. “He’ll make sure this is dealt with in the proper way, and he’ll also make sure there are no ramifications against you.”
“I don’t agree,” said Peter. “That Gestapo agent has nothing to do with the military. You need to report this up the proper command. It’s the only honorable thing to do.”
“Stay out of this,” she hissed. “This is a decision between a husband and wife.”
Peter started to retort, but Erik raised his hand.
“She’s right,” he said. “Although Karl will probably tell me the same thing, that I need to report this up the chain of command. But it doesn’t hurt to get his thoughts on this first.” Erik could tell that his father wanted to say more, but he stopped himself. He also observed a flicker of triumph on Corina’s face. He had grown so tired of their constant fighting, this struggle for power in his own house. “I will make the decision,” he said firmly.
Erik spent the rest of the evening with Greta sitting on his lap, sharing stories with the family about the places he’d seen and the things he’d done. He glossed over the bad parts, focusing on the beauty of the landscape: the dikes of Holland and the fields of France. He didn’t talk about the fighting, the blood, the death. He tried to put on the bravest face. He knew how happy they all were, delighted he was home and that he had done so well for the family; he didn’t want to destroy the mood by brooding. If only he’d thought of Karl in the first place, he could’ve saved his family the stress.
He lay in bed that night, unable to sleep, wondering if he was doing the right thing. The images of dying English prisoners still flashed in his mind like a picture, as they did each night. He struggled for hours until sleep finally found him.
Erik sat in the waiting area of the SS offices in Königsberg. Unlike during his last visit, the building teemed with activity. Black-clothed minions scurried this way and that like so many busy ants. He looked at his watch. His appointment was supposed to be at six, but it was already seven thirty. He wondered if Captain Schmidt had forgotten about him and whether he should announce himself again to the front desk. He decided he would wait.
Finally, Karl appeared, a blond giant wading against a current of black.
Erik rose and delivered a stiff salute. Karl returned the gesture. “I’m sorry I had to leave you waiting, but as you can see we’ve so much to do these days. So many new regulations and countless people to follow up on.” He motioned for Erik to follow him, and they retraced the familiar steps to his office. Erik remembered the last time he had visited here, just days before the fighting started. He’d asked for a transfer Karl was not in a position to provide. Today he sought advice, not favors.
“How are things at home?” Karl asked. “The wife certainly seems to be enjoying her new standing in our community.” Erik noted Karl’s flicker of a smile.
“We’re both very appreciative of everything you’ve done for us,” said Erik.
“Oh, but I didn’t do anything. You’re the one who did all the work. Look at you coming back a hero and an officer,” he noted approvingly. “You’ve exceeded all my expectations.”
There was a knock at the door. “Come in,” said Karl.
In came a middle-aged man clothed in ill-fitting SS regalia. He slumped heavily into a chair. Erik hadn’t expected anyone else at their meeting, so he eyed the stranger curiously.
“Gunther, I want to introduce you to somebody. This is Second Lieutenant Erik Mueller. Erik, this is First Lieutenant Gunther Wolf. He’s my number two here.” Karl turned to Gunther. “You don’t know Mueller, but you know his wife, Corina.”
Gunther’s face brightened, and he rubbed his chubby hands together. “Ach, ja, you’re the famous war hero. You and your wife live over on Yorckstrasse, nicht wahr?”
“You know the neighborhood?” asked Erik.
Gunther’s eyes took on a glint. “I’ve been there once or twice.”
“Erik here was trying to find a home in our office before the fighting started,” explained Karl. “Who knows, he might still be interested. What do you think, Gunther?”
The Gestapo agent sized him up, looking Erik over for a few moments, his mind clearly clicking away. He whistled. “A strapping young hero like this? I’m sure we could find something for him here.”
Karl dismissed Gunther with a flick of his hand. The aged officer bowed slightly to Erik and slogged out of the room, closing the door behind him.
“That’s Reinhard’s cousin,” whispered Karl conspiratorially. “He’s the one who nipped your spot in the first place. He’s not nearly the administrator he thinks he is.” Karl shrugged. “I would have preferred you, but Gunther does have his uses.”
Karl’s pupils sharpened, and he rested his elbows on the table, studying Erik. “How about you, Erik? You were looking for a transfer before. Are you still?”
The question surprised him. He had come seeking advice about Sauer; he wasn’t here begging for a job. How should he answer? If there was a position available to transfer, that would solve all his problems, wouldn’t it? He certainly would be relieved of the responsibility of dealing with the massacre. Could he just let it pass? No. He realized that didn’t solve anything. Sauer would go on to commit new atrocities, with or without Erik’s presence. He couldn’t allow that without trying to do something. He had to speak up.
“I’m . . . flattered you brought that up, although that’s not my reason for coming to you today.”
Karl frowned, leaning toward him. “What is it then? Why are you here?”
“Corina thought I should come to you with something.”
Karl sparked with interest. “Tell me.”
Erik related the significant events that had occurred in the past year. He started haltingly, uncertain of himself, but soon the details rattled off as he described the first incident in Poland, his discussion with his father, the terrible murderers in France. Then Vogel’s arrest of Sauer, and Vogel’s untimely death. Karl listened with rapt attention. He did not interrupt. Erik finished his story. He had spoken for more than a half hour.
Karl was silent for a few minutes more, and then he nodded his head as if deciding what to do. “Thank you, Erik. Thank you for trusting me with this. You were right to come to me. I will need a day or two to consider the circumstances. Please don’t tell anybody else the story, even neighbors or friends.” He gestured toward the downstairs. “What do you think all those busybodies are doing? They are following up on reports made by neighbors, by family. Things have changed since you’ve been gone, my friend. Nobody is trusted these days. Arrests are made. People disappear.
“Some might look at what you’re telling me as an act of patriotism. Others would look at it as a betrayal of the party. This is a very delicate matter. Go home. Spend some time with your family. I will contact you in the next couple days, and we can talk further.”
They both stood and shook hands. Erik departed feeling tremendous relief. Thank God he’d talked to Karl before he spoke with anyone else. He had no idea what was going on at the home front. Were they truly arresting people in droves? Neighbors turnin
g each other in? Family? He felt terribly disconnected from the situation. What had happened while he was gone? Germany was victorious. This was a time for celebration, not for pointing fingers. How strange that in the midst of victory his people could be turning on each other.
Erik returned home and spent the next several days relaxing as best he could and spending time with his family. He took Corina and Greta to the park each day. He was surprised to see his daughter had grown so much in the past year. She was in the awkward stage between being a little girl and a young woman. He cherished every moment he could spend with her.
He expected to hear from Karl by the second day but did not. After the third and fourth day passed, he started to worry. Finally, on the morning of the fifth day he received a telephone call from SS headquarters. Karl summoned him back for an appointment that afternoon.
Erik arrived a little early and was surprised to be ushered immediately into Karl’s office. Both Karl and Gunther were waiting for him. He saluted Karl at the door, but the major did not return the salute. Instead, Karl simply pointed to the chair and directed Erik to sit down.
Without any small talk, Karl launched into his response. “I’ve made some inquiries into your situation.” His voice was clipped and brisk.
“Thank you for that. What should I do?” Erik asked.
“You should do nothing.”
Erik shook his head. “I can’t do that.”
Karl raised his arm and pointed a sharp finger. “You’d better keep your mouth shut and do exactly as I say. You’re going to grow up, and you’re going to do it now.”
A Bitter Rain Page 14