A Bitter Rain

by James D. Shipman

  “Whatever do you mean?”

  She felt the relief burning through her and the strange, conflicted feelings for Gunther. He was a monster, yet for some reason he’d protected her little girl and kept her safe.

  The door opened again for the guard to bring in a large metal tray, which he set down on the desk. He turned without a word and left, locking the door behind him. The tray contained a large bowl of soup, two bowls, a pitcher of water, and a small loaf of bread. Britta stepped over to the steaming liquid and bent over, sniffing. She curled her nose up. “Cabbage again. I told you, the food isn’t good here, but you’ll get used to it.”

  Trude couldn’t help but smile. She couldn’t believe her daughter. By some miracle Britta had been shielded. No, not a miracle, she thought—by Gunther’s will.

  They ate a cheerful meal, Britta chattering away about the guards, the old courtyard at the Königsberg SS jail, and the train ride out. She showed her mother some pictures she had drawn. They were crude renderings of memories. Pictures of Trude and Johannes, of their town house in Königsberg, the streets where she had grown up and played.

  The sun set. They stayed up late, continuing to talk. Trude soaked up this brief, miraculous eye of the storm. She knew it was a fantasy. She knew what price was ahead, but this moment of happiness filled her with strength.

  Eventually Britta grew tired and yawned, unable to keep her eyes open. Trude would have loved to stay up all night, to wring every moment out of this sacred reunion, but she couldn’t put her daughter through that. Trude lay down with Britta, her child climbing in next to her, nuzzling her head on her chest. She ran her hands through Britta’s hair, tears of joy streaming silently down her face as her daughter fell gently asleep in her arms. Trude remained wide-awake in the darkness, soaking up the moments, her mind floating between her euphoria and her dread for the dawn.

  The next morning, she woke heavy-eyed and exhausted. She’d caught a few moments of fitful sleep at best. A guard opened the door and dropped off another tray of food, this one with a thin tea and some more bread. They ate quietly, Britta chirping in here and there with laughter or a question. Trude answered as best she could, but she was more subdued this morning knowing what was coming. Finally, there was a knock at the door and another guard peered in.

  “Frau Bensheim, may I come in?”

  “Yes, what is it?”

  “You must come with me, please.”

  She nodded, fear flooding her heart. She followed the soldier. She was led back down the hallway and then into Gunther’s office. He motioned for her to sit down, and she did so. He left her alone. She looked back around, examining the contents of the office. Time went by, first a few minutes and then longer. Always time to wait. Eventually the door opened, and Gunther came in. He smiled at her and sat heavily down in his chair, as if relieving himself of a great burden. He was quiet for a moment while the guard brought in more tea and some toast with jam. He gestured at the tray. “Would you like some more refreshment?” She shook her head.

  “I trust you enjoyed your evening? You’ve seen for yourself that I have taken care of your daughter.”

  “Thank you for that. At least for that.”

  “Well, I suppose it is time we discuss our future.”

  Trude steeled herself and began. “I know what you want, Gunther. I’ve always known. I know why you protected Britta, and why I’m here now. I will give you everything you want, but you must give me what I want in return.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Go on.”

  “I want you to give me a pass. Papers for Britta and me. I will depart here with her and take her back to Königsberg. I will leave her with some friends . . . people I can trust. When I’m done, I will come back. I give you my word.”

  He stared at her for a long moment, then burst into laughter, spitting flecks of toast out onto the desk. “Oh my dear, dear, I forgot how charming you can be. I’ve worked so hard to get you here. You can’t imagine what the waiting has been like. I’m just not able to wrap my head around the concept of letting you go again. I’m sure you’re completely trustworthy,” he said, leaning forward with an ironic grin. “Despite your word, I’m unfortunately not going to be able to accept that. As for Britta, sorry, but I’ve grown tremendously fond of her. Plus, you’d be miserable without her. I can’t have you moping around here all day long, pining for your daughter.”

  “I told you, I’ll give you what you want.”

  “I’m not sure you understand me. It’s not what you think.”

  A moment of hope flittered into her mind. What did he mean?

  “I don’t want your body. Well, not just that. I want all of you, my dear. I want you like a wife, and Britta like a daughter. I want us to live here like a family. I want you to go along with this with happiness and willingness in your heart. In exchange, I will keep Britta safe and sound. That’s my bargain.” He sat back, folding his hands behind his head, clearly satisfied with himself.

  He wanted her and Britta as a family? She’d never conceived of this. She knew he wanted her, but what kind of disgusting, twisted plan was this? Didn’t he understand how much she loathed and feared him? She watched him for a second. He looked at her with hope, with confidence. He was completely deluded, she realized. Yet he held all the power. He was even more dangerous than she had thought he was.

  She had to push through this. “I agree to all of that, but my terms remain the same. I need to get Britta to safety. Then I will be what you want . . . I’ll be your wife.”

  He leaned back, waving his hands in the air as if surrendering. He chuckled and wagged a finger at her. “I was not wrong about you, my dear. Look at you sitting here in this place, bargaining with me for the terms of your surrender. You still don’t understand, do you?”

  “I know what you want, and I know what my terms are.”

  He flushed red. She could tell he was growing angry as he struggled to calm himself. “You must not understand what this place is. What do you think goes on here?”

  She shook her head. “Some kind of SS jail.”

  “No, it’s something much, much worse. It’s hell unimaginable. If you live long enough to see it.” His face puffed up in scarlet blotches. “Why, with a word from me, you and your precious daughter would be dead, do you realize that? Before I finished my toast, I could make that happen. But there are worse things than death. Should I let you see the camp?” He leaned back, drawing his fingers to his jaw, considering the issue. “Yes. Yes, I like that. I think that’s an excellent idea.”

  He called loudly, and the door was opened instantly. A guard appeared.

  “Frau Bensheim would like to see the camp. She doesn’t quite understand what we’re all about. Give her the grand tour.”

  The guard saluted, a little grin appearing.

  “Make sure she sees everything. When you’re done, bring her back here.”

  She rose and started to leave. She felt Gunther’s hand on her arm, holding her back. He stepped forward, moving his lips to her ear, touching them against her for a moment. “Enjoy yourself,” he whispered. “When you return, we’ll have a nice little chat about things.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Berlin

  March 1943

  Erik sat with his eyes closed. His body shook violently. He had mere moments to live. He heard the command to fire, and his body went rigid, waiting for the bullets to tear him apart. He heard the sharp metallic clank of the triggers. A moment passed, then another. His heart was in his throat, trying to push its way through his mouth. He couldn’t breathe, and he wondered if he was in that strange limbo between life and death. Another few seconds passed. He hadn’t been hit by anything, nor had he heard the explosive echoing thunder of gunfire. He opened his eyes. The guards stood in front of him, their machine pistols still aimed his direction. Their weapons must be unloaded, he realized. They were mocking him. As if to answer that question, he heard the shrill laughter of the lieutenant. Erik turned to his tormen
tor. Messerschmidt’s shoulders bounced up and down in a furious mirth, his face a mottled mask.

  “Don’t worry, Captain,” he said. “This is just a dress rehearsal. We want to make sure everything is in order for the real thing, which won’t be long in coming, I assure you.” He nodded to one of the guards, who stepped forward to stand directly in front of Erik. The man smiled a wry, bitter, ironic grin and swept the butt of his pistol across Erik’s head. Erik felt the sharp flashing and his body spinning as he hit the ground, then all was darkness.

  Erik woke later, his head a burning ball pressed against the cold stone floor. He had retched and he lay in the sticky, foul refuse. When he tried to rise, his head spun and the nausea overwhelmed him again. He ran his tongue along his teeth and realized one was missing. Several more were loose. A guard returned, crashing open the door, and stared in disgust at the vomit.

  The soldier grabbed Erik, pulling him to his knees and then half-carrying, half-dragging him down the hallway. Erik was placed in a small stone room. The door opened and a different guard stepped in, aiming a nozzle at him to spray him with ice-cold pressurized water. The stream nearly knocked him over, and the frigid water burned him with icy fire as the jet was walked up and down over his body. The torment felt like it lasted an eternity. He was ordered to stand and follow the guard into another room.

  He recognized this cell, with the solitary table and two chairs. Or perhaps there were many interview rooms like this. He looked around indifferently. A part of him wanted to fight furiously to survive, but an equal side clambered and begged for the end. He sat at the table in the room by himself for a very long time. He wondered what new torment awaited him. There was nothing on the walls, no clock, no window, nothing to see and nothing to do but to sit and wait. When the door opened again, he braced himself for more blows. He was shocked to see a familiar form stroll into the room and stand staring at him, legs spread apart, hands on hips, a grim grin on his chiseled Aryan features.

  “Quite a fix you’ve got yourself into, Mueller.”

  Karl. Erik invoked the name in his mind. Was he here, or was this merely an apparition? Erik reached shaking hands out toward his friend, his heart filled with relief and a spark of hope.

  Karl turned and barked at the door; it banged shut harshly behind him. He stepped forward, his eyes never leaving Erik, and seated himself at the table across the way.

  “Tell me everything,” he demanded. His face was impassive.

  Erik told the whole story, holding nothing back. He explained about combat in Russia, the sniper he executed, the battle near Kharkov, and Sauer’s order to kill the Russians. He told of his arrest, the torture, the threats, and the false allegation that he was the one who had ordered the killing of the Russians. When he was finished, Karl watched him for a few moments, waiting to hear if there was more of the story. Then he responded.

  “It’s about what I’d assumed,” he said. “Imagine the irony I felt when I learned that you of all people were facing charges for cruelty to the enemy.”

  “It’s all a lie,” Erik said. “I know if I just could have contact with my own company, there are many men who would vouch for me.”

  “Are you sure? Do you think any of them would cross a major? Even if they would, do you think a couple of privates and a sergeant or two would count over the word of multiple officers and Sauer?”

  “But it’s the truth,” said Erik.

  Karl slammed his hand on the table. “Silence!” he demanded. He looked at Erik for a moment and then shook his head. “You still don’t get it, do you? I thought I’d explained things to you the last time around, and judging by your success in Russia, I thought you learned your lesson. Sauer wrote to me several times to tell me how proud he was of you, that you’d embraced the party, embraced the future.” He looked at Erik in contempt. “Then I hear of this betrayal. This weakness cropping up again. How could you have such stupidity in your moment of triumph? How could you do this to yourself? To your family, your wife, to me?”

  Karl leaned over the table, pointing a finger. “Listen to me, you worthless little shit. I put my reputation on the line for you. For your wife. And this is how you repay me? You had a future, Erik. A future with limitless potential. This war will not last forever. Sure, we’ve had a few setbacks, but that won’t last long. The Russians were almost finished before Stalingrad. They may have gained a moment’s respite, but they can’t last forever. Germany will rule the world. You could have had a part of that. I had plans for you. Not just in Königsberg, either. Instead you chose a coward’s path, and you’ve ruined everything for yourself.”

  “There were hundreds of them,” protested Erik.

  “I’d kill a million of them without blinking,” said Karl. “In fact, I have, directly or indirectly.”

  Erik was shocked. “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “I won’t be telling you any bedtime stories, Erik. I wouldn’t want to give you nightmares. Let’s just say I would have burned those Russians without a second thought.” He stood up, taking a couple of steps away from the chair and beginning to pace. “Right now I’m not worried about dead Jews and Russians. Right now, I need to try to figure out what to do with you. Frankly, I should just walk out of here and let them finish their work. They are trying to figure you out. Do they put you on public trial for atrocities or give you a quiet bullet to the head?”

  “Then you mean . . .”

  “Your arrest isn’t public yet. Your family doesn’t even know. Perhaps that might be for the best if I could convince them to just shoot you. A private execution here, and your family lives on with honor. Your memory lives on. I talked to the commander about that, but some people in the SS want something bigger, something to show the world that the SS cares about military discipline and punishes those who commit war crimes. They may make an example out of you.”

  “But I didn’t do it.”

  “Silly boy. As if that mattered. You are a convenient scapegoat. You’d be lucky to get two words in at the trial. They would shout you down, then convict you and take you out back and shoot you right afterward. That would be the end of you. That seems to be the prevailing plan for now. I’d let them do it without any thought if it wasn’t for Corina. She doesn’t deserve that. She doesn’t deserve you, either, you simpering, weak pile of refuse. How she ever became attracted to something like you I’ll never know.”

  “You have to tell her I’m here. She needs to know I’m alive.”

  Karl’s disgust increased. “You would tell her of this when I’m offering you a quiet and honorable death?”

  “Please, Karl, I’m begging you. Even if they do shoot me here, please someday tell her what happened. I want my family to know.”

  Karl shook his head. “You truly don’t understand, do you?”

  “Are you saying she would want me to die here quietly just for the sake of the family?”

  “No. She would have wanted you to burn those Bolsheviks and come home the hero you were instead of the coward you are.”

  “I’m not a coward,” said Erik, feeling a touch of the old courage. “I did what I thought was right.”

  Karl stared at him again without responding, and then he rose to leave. “I’ve talked to Sauer. I can’t believe it, but even now he’s of two minds about you. He said you saved his life, that you’ve been a brave comrade and a friend. He doesn’t understand your weakness. He doesn’t want to see you again, but he asked me to help you. Can you believe that?”

  Karl shook his head. “I don’t understand why anyone cares about you at this point. But for Corina’s sake and for Sauer, I’ll see what I can do. Like I said, it may just be a quiet bullet in the head. I’ll speak to the commander on your behalf. I will pull this one last string for you, Erik, and then I’m washing my hands.”

  Erik rose to thank him, but he felt the dizziness overwhelm him again. He thrust his arm out in the Hitler salute.

  Karl stared in surprise and then chuckled. “A little lat
e for that, don’t you think?” His eyes softened a little around the edges and a look of sadness filled his face. “So much waste. I don’t know if I’ll see you again, Mueller. Fare thee well.” Karl walked slowly from the interrogation room, leaving Erik again in the gray dim solitude.

  Erik was eventually taken back to his cell. He noted the guards handled him less roughly. Perhaps it was only his imagination, or maybe his meeting with such a high-ranking influential individual had made some sort of impression. He didn’t know if he was grasping at straws, but he prayed for a miracle. Another thing changed after Karl’s visit: the beatings stopped. He was left alone. The only marker of time passing was the twice-daily delivery of stale bread and water. Three days passed. Long and full of boredom, anxiety, and uncertainty for the future.

  On the morning of the fourth day after Karl’s visit, the door opened. He looked up hopefully, wishing for Karl, but it was the lieutenant, cold and passive.

  He gestured and guards pulled Erik out of his cell and marched him down the cold gray dark corridor. They went through first one security door then another. He had never been to this part of the jail, he realized. They reached a set of wooden double doors at the end of the hallway. One of the guards reached out and knocked. An answering sound emanated from the other side of the door, and it opened widely. He was led into a large windowless rectangular room. At the front, several steps led up to a small platform where a huge table dominated. At the table three SS officers sat, staring out at him sternly. The men were flanked by guards, standing, weapons at the ready. He was in a courtroom, he realized, and his spirits sank. There was to be a show trial after all.

  Immediately in front of the stage was a single hard wooden chair, facing the officers of the court-martial. He was led to this chair and ordered to take his place. He blinked against the harsh light of the room. His judges stared at him, three muscular statues with sharp blue eyes. Unmovable.

  The center officer, a full colonel, was older than the other two. His light-brown hair was tempered with gray. He leaned forward, addressing Erik.