A Bitter Rain

by James D. Shipman

  He reared back, reached out, and pulled Erik to him by the shirt, then slapped him hard with the back of his hand. He dropped him into the chair and turned to leave.

  “Remind Captain Mueller of the truth,” he said as he departed.

  The guards went to work on Erik, striking him over and over on the head and shoulders. He tried to protest, to put his good arm up to protect himself, but nothing helped. The blows rained down. He slumped out of the chair, landing on the hard concrete. The ground was almost worse; now they were kicking him as well. Soon the darkness overwhelmed him again.

  He woke and found himself in a hospital bed. There was an IV attached to his arm. Through the fog of his emotions, he could tell he must be heavily sedated. A white-garbed gentleman stood over him, a doctor’s coat over his SS uniform.

  “Captain Mueller, you’re awake. You’ve been out almost two days. I was afraid we’d lost you. But you’ve improved.” A flicker of sadness passed the doctor’s face. “Not that it will do much good.”

  “I need your help,” said Erik, taking a chance. “I’ve been framed.”

  The doctor looked down at him for a moment and then shrugged, shaking his head. “There’s nothing I can do for you.”

  “Please, listen just for a moment. I’m asking you to contact SS Lieutenant Colonel Karl Schmidt in Königsberg. You don’t have to say anything else. Just tell him that I’m here.”

  The doctor scoffed. “You have to be kidding me. Do you want me to join you? Sorry, my friend, but I cannot help you that way. I can do this for you, though.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a syringe, placing it into the IV. “I can keep you comfortable, and give you oblivion for a while.”

  Erik tried to protest, to rise, but the medicine was already washing over him, and he felt himself fading again into darkness.

  “Hush now, my friend. All of this will be over soon enough. You need your rest.” He depressed the remainder of the syringe. Erik struggled to keep his eyes open, to protest, but soon he was out again. He was pulled away groggily sometime later. He had no idea how long. A nurse was removing the IV from his arm.

  Guards dragged him out of bed. He tried to resist, but he was still in so much pain, so weak. They carried him down the hallway and into another, larger concrete enclosure, where a single chair rested against the wall. He was pulled to the chair and flung down; his arms were wrenched behind the chair and he was tied tightly. He sat there for a moment, dazed, disoriented.

  The door to the room was flung open. Lieutenant Messerschmidt strolled in arrogantly, along with two guards with machine pistols. The guards stepped up in front of him, and Messerschmidt moved aside.

  The men raised their weapons, pulling back the bolts in unison and aiming the barrels at Erik.

  Messerschmidt puffed himself up, unfolding a single sheet of paper and beginning to read. “Captain Erik Mueller, I regret to inform you that you’ve been sentenced by tribunal to death for disobeying a direct order from your superior officer, and for the killing of innocent prisoners of war. Do you have anything to say?”

  Erik was stunned. His mind tried to work slowly through his drug-induced fog what was going on. He couldn’t formulate any words, and he shook his head. He couldn’t believe it. He was going to die right here, right now.

  “Nothing?” asked Messerschmidt. “Good, then you accept our verdict and we will proceed. Guards, prepare.”

  The men raised their weapons, fingers on the triggers. Erik felt his heart beating out of his chest. He could see the order to fire dancing on Messerschmidt’s lips. He closed his eyes, bracing for the bullets to come.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  East Prussia

  March 1943

  The rolling farmland passed Trude by, tidy, patched squares of the Prussian countryside. She was surprised she’d been allowed to be a passenger in the train, and she had relative freedom to stand, use the bathroom, or walk around a bit without restraint. Her two guards were friendly, although they kept a close eye on her and would not speak to her about any details of the trip, where they were going, or what was in store for her.

  Of course, she knew the answer to all of that. They were headed for some sort of camp—Soldau, where Gunther had an important position. This was also supposed to be the location of her Britta, so although she was terrified about her future, she was also, paradoxically, thrilled by the prospect of seeing her daughter again. The first part of her plan had worked without a hitch. She had maneuvered Captain Dutt into allowing her to meet with the SS guard. She’d convinced the guard to take her into custody and turn her over to Gunther. Now she prepared the hardest part: facing Gunther and convincing him of what she had in mind.

  She had feared she would be tortured for information about who had assisted her, but that had not happened. After a brief time of confusion where she was largely ignored, a noticeable change had come over her captors. They’d become polite, respectful, and ensured she received ample food. They hadn’t asked her anything, and they certainly hadn’t tortured her. This conduct gave her further comfort that Britta may have been treated similarly all this time. This also gave her some hope for the future.

  The train whisked by another nameless station, not even slowing down as it rumbled through. The car was relatively empty. Just her and her guards along with a smattering of civilians: an elderly gentleman traveling by himself; a young family with two small children who kept running up and down the aisle. Another young couple sitting close, the husband obviously on leave, wearing his tattered Wehrmacht uniform. They all eyed Trude and the SS guards curiously, clearly wondering who they were and where they were going, but keeping their distance.

  As the train kept rolling down to the southwest, they passed the old Polish border. The signs had been taken down, but the purpose of the buildings and the platform were obvious as they whizzed by.

  “How much longer?” asked Trude.

  The guard stared at her for a moment, and then one of them answered. “Not long now.” He shrugged. “Perhaps a half hour.”

  Thirty minutes. She closed her eyes, trying to compose herself. She had another role to play. The most important part of the performance. Captain Dutt and Friedrich were strong, intelligent men, but they were also honest and straightforward. They could be manipulated.

  Gunther was another matter. He was every bit as bright if not smarter, and he was full of cunning cynicism. Over and over, she worked the scenarios she’d crafted. Tweaking them, trying to throw in unexpected events to feel how she would react. Trying to see everything from Gunther’s point of view. The scenarios occupied her mind and quickly passed the time. She felt the train slowing down for the first time since they’d left Königsberg. She opened her eyes and one of the guards nodded to her.

  “This is our stop,” he said.

  A sign at the station said “Soldau.” Underneath were other words, faded and in Polish. The train lurched to a stop. The guards waited a moment and then stood as one, motioning for her to follow them. She could feel her heart rate rising. She willed herself to remain calm. They stepped off the train and walked along the old wooden planks of the platform before stepping down a short flight of stairs.

  A car was waiting for them. One of the guards hurried forward to open the back door for her. She took a seat inside. Another SS soldier was at the wheel along with the lieutenant in the passenger seat. A guard stepped into the car on either side of her and closed the doors. There was nowhere to go, no place to escape. Not that she intended to.

  The vehicle took off and began weaving through the streets of Soldau. “Where are we going?” asked Trude.

  The lieutenant turned and stared at her for a moment. “Llowo,” he responded. The name meant nothing to her. They drove out of the town and back into the familiar fields. She could see no difference between this land and the farms dotting East Prussia. How strange that they fought, creating arbitrary borders and naming the lands “Germany” and “Poland,” when there was no real differ
ence.

  The car drove for another half hour. She started to see buildings dotting the horizon. They turned off to the left down a road, heading toward a train track and a large fenced enclosure. The car came to a gate guarded by watchtowers, SS men with machine pistols at the ready. The car stopped, and one of the guards asked them some questions.

  The driver responded and showed his papers. The guard looked into the back seat, staring at Trude for a moment, and then nodded. The gates were opened to allow the vehicle to drive through toward the largest building, a great brick two-story structure with white-framed windows. The roof was flat except for a central gable tapering upward toward the sky.

  The car pulled up to the front doors. Her breath caught in her throat. Gunther awaited them. She hadn’t seen him in two years. He eyed the car curiously, clear anticipation painted on his pudgy face. He was a little older, perhaps a little fatter. He was still shoved into a crumpled SS uniform, now bearing the insignia of a major. He rubbed his hands together against the cold, or perhaps in expectation, as the car rolled to a stop. He ducked his head down and peered into the back seat. Their gaze met. She saw the flash of recognition as a clever grin creased his mouth.

  He stood again as the guards removed her and feigned disinterest. He spoke directly to the lieutenant.

  “I see you brought Frau Bensheim. Nice to finally tidy up that piece of business. Her husband was a little Jew who thought he was a big shot in Königsberg.” Trude flinched but remained silent.

  “He worked the system before the war, getting other Jews out under fake passports and visas. The little shit waited too long, though, and got his own family caught in the bargain. I nabbed him in ’40 and the daughter in ’41, but I needed this one to complete my collection. She sacrificed her daughter for her own freedom. A typical Jew. They don’t even look after their own young.”

  Trude was stunned by the words, but she knew they were for the lieutenant and perhaps to bait her, to unbalance her for the fencing match they both knew was about to begin.

  “What do you want me to do with her?” asked the lieutenant. “Should I throw her in the camp?”

  Gunther pressed his index finger against his cheek, tapping it slowly back and forth as if he was considering this. “Likely, but let’s drop her in my office for now. I’ve got a few questions for her before I throw her to the wolves.”

  The guards escorted her through the brick enclosure and down a cold, cheerless hallway. Gunther’s office, on the second floor, was large but sparse, with a plain metal desk and a few pictures indifferently tacked on the walls. Boxes filled the corners. He was just moving in, she remembered. The guards stayed with her for a few minutes until Gunther arrived. He nodded for them to leave. They saluted crisply and walked out, closing the door behind them. He sat down across the desk, ignoring her for the moment. He looked down at some paperwork, pulling out a letter and studying it as if he had more important things to do.

  “Gunther, please don’t,” she said.

  He looked up in mock surprise. “Frau Bensheim,” he said, a look of irritation falsely parading across his face. “How impatient of you. I’ll be with you in just a moment. I have many pressing matters to attend to.” He looked back down again, scanning the contents of the letter. He was clearly enjoying himself. This was a moment she realized he had looked forward to for a very long time, and he was relishing every second.

  Finally, he set the letter down and pressed his hands together. He took a deep breath and looked up at her again with a clever grin curling the edges of his mouth.

  “Now, where were we?”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” she said.

  “As I recall, you were supposed to be arrested in 1940 at the docks. Unfortunately, that husband of yours was too suspicious and you escaped my web. Not that I blame him. He sacrificed himself. He thought he was being noble, but he was only an irritation. He thought he was the big fish I was after, but the real one I was looking for unfortunately got away.” He smiled at her. “I assure you he paid for it dearly.”

  “I don’t want to know,” she said.

  Gunther chuckled. “I’m not surprised. You seemed indifferent. I waited for you to come to me then, but you didn’t. Not then, and not even when I caught your little Britta. Imagine my surprise when even that didn’t lure you in.”

  “I want to see my daughter,” she said.

  “Oh, so you do care about her? My dear, I was beginning to wonder. A German mother would’ve come to me immediately, but you chose to remain away,” he admonished, waving a finger. “They say you are less than human, that you’re below us. But sometimes I wonder. You’re stronger in some ways. The way you cling to your own lives.” He leered at her. “I admire that about you,” he said, his eyes moving down her neck and then below, lingering on her waist. She could see his almost ravenous look and she shuddered.

  He shook his head. “I’m sorry, my dear, I got a little . . . distracted. Where were we?” He tapped his finger against his temple. “That’s right, Britta. Well, you will be relieved to know that she’s here with me, and she’s doing fine. She’s remained safe all this time.” He looked up with a coy expression. “Not that there haven’t been some requests from my guards about her.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Trude, terrified.

  Gunther shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that you’re here, that your daughter is safe, and that she has remained safe because of my sole discretion and power. That, my dear, places you rather exceptionally in my debt.” He tapped his head again. “I wonder if I can think of any way you could make it up to me.”

  “I won’t talk about anything until I’ve seen her,” she said.

  Gunther shook his head, snorting out loud. “Listen to you. Do you know where you are? You’re in hell! The end of the world. Do you know who I am? I’m the angel of death. Yet here you are bargaining, making demands. I knew I was right about you the second I saw you.” He laughed again, snapping his fingers at her.

  “You know what,” he said. “I’ll indulge your game a little longer. Britta is right in this building. I’ve kept her here as I kept her there, safe and sound. I’ll have the guards take you to her.” He waved his hand over her. “I give you tonight with her. I’ll have dinner brought in. You can have the evening . . . no, I’ll go further than that. You can have the whole night with her. In the morning after breakfast, we will have a nice little chat about the future, shall we?”

  Trude nodded, forcing a smile, trying to look appreciative, when all she felt was horror. She’d forgotten what Gunther was like. Or perhaps he was worse now. Perhaps as he’d gathered more power, he’d become more arrogant and cruel. None of that mattered right now. She was about to see Britta. Whatever happened tomorrow didn’t matter this instant. She would be in paradise, if but for a brief time, if she could just see her girl.

  “Thank you,” she said, forcing the words.

  “Oh, you’re more than welcome, my dear. I’ll just add it to your tab.” Gunther rose and shouted a command. Guards entered. He spoke to them briefly and then turned to Trude, bowing slightly. “Have a good evening, my dear,” he said. “I’ll see you in the morning.” He strode from the office and Trude was left with the guards. She was moments away from fulfilling her greatest dream of the past year.

  The guards walked Trude out of the office and down the hallway to the extreme other end of the building. She passed a series of doors, all nondescript with tiny windows. She wondered what the rooms were for. Were they other offices for the SS? Apartments? She hadn’t noticed any houses or barracks as they drove in.

  Finally, they arrived at the end of the hall, and one of the SS guards reached for a large ring of keys in his pocket. He worked through them one by one, eyeing each until he finally came across the key he was looking for. He placed this into the hole and turned it to open the door.

  Trude was awash with emotion. There was Britta sitting at a table with pencil and paper busily working
away. When her daughter looked up, her eyes widened and she jumped from the chair, running into her mother’s arms. Trude held her, sobbing. She’d never been happier in her entire life. “My little Britta,” she kept repeating, her voice broken. They held each other tightly while the guards waited a respectful distance away. After a few minutes one of them asked her politely to please step into the room. She complied, and they locked the door behind her.

  It was a long time before she could look through her tears and peer around the room. It didn’t feel like a cell at all, she realized—more like a dormitory. There was a bed with sheets and blankets. A small desk rested in the corner stacked with books, paper, and pencils. A bookshelf sat to the right, filled with dozens of books. There was a window without bars, looking out through a white wooden frame onto a series of other buildings. The only thing that made the room feel like a cell was the locked door—and the distant view of the towers and barbed wire beyond.

  “Mommy, how did you get here?” asked Britta through the tears streaming down her cheeks. “I never thought I would see you again. Uncle Gunther said I would, but I didn’t believe him.”

  “Uncle? He’s not your uncle.”

  “Oh, but he told me he is,” she said. “He said he was taking care of me while you and Father were away. That’s why the soldiers came to our house and took me and Mrs. Werner that night.”

  “What’s happened to you, my love?” Trude asked, trying to ignore what she’d heard. “Tell me everything. Have they hurt you?”

  “What do you mean, Mommy?” she asked, laughing. “Nothing’s happened except I’m bored all day and I’ve missed you terribly, and Father, of course. They stuck me in this room. I must stay inside, but they let me out sometimes. Uncle Gunther comes and visits every day. The guards are really nice, too, but the food is awful. I like this new place better. The room is bigger and there’s a window I can look out.”

  Trude’s voice shook. “They didn’t hurt you in any way?” she asked.