She thought she would call out, reveal herself. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could handle the pain, but then it was over. She felt a cold wet cloth applied to her feverish forehead. They were cleaning her skin of the remaining blood. Then they applied a dry cloth and a bandage. The doctor discussed her wound with the nurse, the frequency of inspection and cleaning, and then finally the voices drifted away.
Slowly she opened an eye, first one, then the other. At first all she could see was the blur of the overhead lights, but soon she adjusted to the glare to be able to glance around the room. She dared not move her head for fear she would be discovered. The hospital was a rectangular stone building perhaps fifteen meters long and ten meters wide. Beds lined the length of the room on both sides. Most of them were filled with prisoner patients. Now that the agony was over she could hear the coughing and the moaning that reminded her so much of the barracks in the camp. She turned her head ever so slightly to the right and to the left, realizing the doctor had left the ward but the nurse was still there, leaning over a patient no more than a few meters away. Thankfully, her back was turned.
Trude closed her eyes again to a slit, watching with her peripheral vision as the nurse checked first one patient, then another, moving down the line and slowly away from her. Agonizing minutes passed. At any moment, Gunther might appear, having learned what had happened to her. Then it would be too late.
What was she to do? They’d left Britta in her room. She couldn’t do anything without her daughter. Perhaps she should just lie here, wait for Gunther to come. At least they would be together. Something in her cried out violently against that. You must try, she told herself.
Finally, the nurse completed her slow tracking to the end of the building. Trude was afraid she was going to turn around and start in on the other side of the room, but to her vast relief the nurse stepped out. Trude had moments to do something. She rose to her feet slowly, vision blurred; she felt the burning agony of her forehead. She had no shoes and was still dressed in her nightgown. She had no choice; she would have to brave the frozen ground. She walked slowly with a measured pace, not wanting to raise the alarm among the patients, and moved to the far door on the other side of the building. She opened the door and peered out into a small office, probably the doctor’s. Fortunately, he was not there.
She stepped through and looked around. In the corner on a rack was a long, dark wool coat. She stepped over, took the coat, and put it on. It was impossibly large on her. She shook her head; this wasn’t going to work, but she had to try. She opened the door and walked out of the hospital and into the snow.
On the icy ground, her bare feet stung. She took another step, then another, marching stride by painful stride in her stolen coat on frozen feet, right through the middle of the camp. There were Nazis all around her. One of the guards passed her directly. He looked her up and down. She nodded to him, as if all of this made sense. To her surprise, he nodded back and continued on his way.
She went on. Impossibly forward. Each step was a miracle. She measured her pace, not too slow nor too fast. You can’t see me. She saw her destination now, more than a quarter kilometer away. I’ll never make it, she thought, but she kept going, the distance shrinking with each step.
By the time she reached the pathway, she could no longer feel her feet. She was walking along the barbed-wire fence leading into the general camp. Two SS turned the corner of the building a hundred meters away and walked in her direction. There was no way they would let her pass. She raised her head, her face passive. The SS watched her as she approached. They started to slow down, but she kept her pace. She knew them slightly. They recognized her, but they passed without stopping. She couldn’t believe it.
A dog barked in the distance from somewhere off in the woods. She heard the thunderous echo of a rifle. She went on. Her feet left the path and returned to the snow. She could see the warehouse door no more than two hundred meters away. She walked on, agonizing step after step.
The door opened and an SS man stepped out, staring at her in surprise. “What are you doing?” he demanded sharply.
She wasn’t going to make it after all.
“What are you doing?” he repeated.
She stood there frozen, unable to answer.
“Trude, don’t you recognize me?”
She looked closer and realized it was Schaefer. The corporal rushed forward, grabbed her by the shoulders, and escorted her the last few steps into the warehouse.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Soldau
December 1944
Erik sat in his office, running some of the details of tonight’s plan through his mind. He heard a commotion outside the warehouse and wondered what it was. He rose from his desk, heading for the door when it opened. He was shocked to see Corporal Schaefer leading Trude in. She was dressed in a nightgown and covered with a huge woolen overcoat. Her bare feet were blue and black. An enormous bloody bandage rested at an angle across her forehead.
“Erik,” she said, “help me.” She raised her hands up to him and then stumbled, falling to the concrete. Schaefer was fortunately there and softened her fall.
“What’s happened to her?” Erik demanded.
“I don’t know, sir. I opened the door and she was just there.”
“Help me with her.” Together they picked Trude up and carried her to a chair near the stove, pulling her feet up onto a small table where they could rest less than a third of a meter away from the warmth of the iron. She was barely conscious.
“Erik, help me, please,” she said again. She was shaking. She seemed stunned.
“Tell me what’s going on,” he said.
“It’s Gunther. Gunther’s taking us away. We’re leaving today. At noon.”
“Why?”
“He came to me this morning and told me the Russians will be here any day. He moved up our departure. I didn’t know what to do so I intentionally fell on the edge of our table. They took me to the hospital, and I escaped to come here. I’d hoped they would take Britta with me, but they didn’t. Now she’s locked up there, and Gunther will be coming any moment.”
Erik looked at his watch. It was eleven thirty. Erik sat back stunned. She must have been seen by dozens of people coming here. Any second Gunther would arrive, probably with armed guards. They would all be arrested. The plan was unraveling, and they were all in danger. He racked his mind trying to think.
“What are you going to do?” asked Schaefer.
“I’m going to go get Britta, and we are getting out of here.”
“I’m going with you,” said the corporal.
Erik shook his head. “I need you to stay here for now with Trude.”
“She’s safe here for now. The danger’s out there.” He stepped in front of the door, blocking Erik. “I’m coming along.”
Erik relented. They dressed quickly in their overcoats, and Erik slid on his jackboots, then they stepped out of the warehouse. He half expected to see parties of guards already heading their direction, but the activity outside was normal, just a smattering of guards walking this way and that. The regular sounds of the camp operating.
They hastened together through the snow toward the administrative building. Erik had no idea what they were going to do, but they had to move quickly.
“We can still use the cart,” said Schaefer.
Erik thought about it as they moved through the snow. The corporal was right. It was the only way. But the plan had been to move Britta and Trude at night, undetected. Now, during the day, with Gunther sounding the alarm at any moment, the prospects seemed ludicrously slim.
They entered the building a few minutes later and stormed down the corridor and up the stairs. Here their luck held as well. The hallways were deserted. Perhaps Gunther had been delayed?
They moved quickly down to Trude’s door. Erik fished into his pocket and found the small metal object he’d retrieved from Gunther’s office yesterday. He pulled the key out and placed it into
the door, turning the handle. He wasn’t even sure it was the right one, but it worked and the door opened. Inside was Britta, sitting at the table, and a man standing over her. It was Gunther.
The Kommandant looked up sharply. “How did you get in here?” he demanded. “What are you doing?”
“The . . . the door was unlocked.”
“What do you want?”
“We’re still sorting out supplies,” explained Erik lamely.
“I told you to knock that nonsense off,” said Gunther. He started to say something and then paused. “Never mind. I can use your help right now. I’ve got things to attend to. You know Britta here. There’s a car waiting for us. Please escort her to the front and stay there with her until I return. Her mother’s had a fall. I’m going to go check on her. I’ll be down shortly. Don’t let the girl out of your sight, do you understand? If you do, there’ll be hell to pay.”
Erik nodded. Gunther grunted in satisfaction. He reached out and patted Britta on the shoulder. “Now, my dear, go with these nice gentlemen. They’re going to take you to the car and I’ll take care of things. I’ll be there with your mother in a few minutes, all right?”
She nodded, her face red and blotchy from crying. Gunther stepped out of the room. Erik realized he would head straight to the hospital and discover Trude had disappeared. They had only scant moments.
“Britta, do you know who I am?” asked Erik.
She looked up and nodded.
“We have your mother in hiding. We must go right now. We must hurry.” She stood and went with them, hurrying out the door, down the stairs, and out the front toward the car.
The vehicle was directly in front of the building, a warm exhaust billowing into the sky. They opened the door and helped Britta get in. The driver was already out hastening to assist them. Erik got in next to her and Schaefer turned, speaking with the driver. Erik could hear an argument, with Schaefer’s voice rising higher and higher, and then both men got into the front seat. The driver lurched the vehicle into motion and the car drove past the vast administrative building and along the fence toward the warehouse.
There wasn’t even a real road, but the car did well enough in the crushed snow. Guards and other personnel stopped and watched them in amazement as they crept past them. “Stop here,” commanded Erik, at the point where the path ended and the snow deepened. He knew the car would become hopelessly stuck if it continued.
“I’ll be right back,” he said. He jumped out of the vehicle and ran toward the warehouse.
He reached the door swiftly and hurried into the building. He found Trude still sitting near the stove.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“We have to go right now!” he screamed.
She stared up at him in surprise and then lurched to her feet, throwing the coat back on and starting toward the door.
“Wait!” he commanded. He stepped over to one of the carts and began furiously digging through until he found what he was looking for. He pulled out a pair of boots; they were too large, but they would have to do. He ran them over to her and quickly helped her put them on.
The boots were huge, but they were some measure of protection against the cold. She smiled gratefully at him as he helped her.
As he pulled her up, her face twisted into a grimace. “My daughter.”
“She’s with us,” said Erik.
Erik led Trude to the car, opened the door, and helped her in, stepping in swiftly after her.
“Let’s go,” said Erik.
“What’s going on?” demanded the driver. “I’m supposed to be waiting for Gunther.”
“Change of plans. We’re meeting him outside the camp,” said Erik.
“That’s not what I was told,” said the driver. He shut the car off and cranked his neck to the back seat. “I’m not going anywhere until I figure out what’s going on.”
Schaefer struck the man in the face with a heavy blow. Erik leaned forward over the seat to grab the driver by the collar and pull him backward, choking him. The driver flailed his arms and legs. Erik kept pressing his arm tighter and tighter around the driver’s neck until he went limp.
The man was still alive but unconscious. Erik pulled him over the seat and into the back. They shoved him down to the carpet. Trude covered the driver with a blanket from the seat, concealing him from view.
“What do we do now?” asked Schaefer.
“We get the hell out of here.”
“You drive,” said the corporal. Erik opened the back door and moved to the front. He looked around nervously as he did. Several guards were stopped, staring openly at them. Fortunately, they were all relatively far away. He stepped in behind the wheel, turned the ignition to start the engine, maneuvered the vehicle around, and drove back along the fence.
Erik realized with horror that they would have to drive past the hospital and the administrative building to leave the camp. There was no other way; if they were caught, this would be the end. Erik sped along the pathway as quickly as he could. As they passed the hospital the building’s door flung open; he saw Gunther stepping out, shouting at them to stop. Erik hit the accelerator and the car went into full throttle, racing past the remaining buildings. They made it by the administrative structure but were abruptly stopped at the front gate. A guard with his machine pistol tapped at the door, stepping up to Schaefer’s side to review their papers.
The corporal rolled down the window, and the guard eyed them suspiciously.
“Where are you taking these prisoners?” he asked, eyeing Trude and Britta, who he clearly recognized.
“Surely you received orders about this?” said Erik.
The guard nodded. “Yes, I did. But not for you. They are supposed to be going with Gunther.”
“Plan changed,” said Erik shrugging.
The guard hesitated a moment and then nodded to his partner, who unlatched the barbed-wire gate and started to pull it open. From behind them a siren sounded. They could hear shouting. The guard looked up at them and then back toward the commotion. His hand had already moved to his weapon.
“Good-bye, my friend,” Schaefer said to Erik. He slammed his door open, hitting the guard and knocking him into the snow. He rolled out of the car to land hard on top of him.
“Schaefer!”
“Go!” the corporal screamed. Erik reached for the handle, but the other guard was moving into action. He had only a split second to decide what to do. Shouting in frustration, he slammed on the accelerator and crashed through the partially open gate, racing away as quickly as he could. Through his mirror he could see the guards grappling on the ground with Schaefer. Other SS were closing in. The car sped down the road and away from the camp. There would be a hot pursuit at any moment, but for now they were free.
Erik slowed the car about ten kilometers from Soldau. They quickly dragged the unconscious guard out of the back and laid him down in a ditch near the side of the road. Erik looked through the car, trying to find any information. He didn’t have any of the maps or other things he had prepared. He had no money, no identification. They’d left everything behind in the mad scramble to escape. Even now he knew the pursuit was on. There were likely calls going out to Karl and others in Königsberg to arrest his family. He had to get to them as quickly as possible, but he knew the SS would be waiting for him so he would have to be cautious. They had to lose the car at some point and find some other way to travel.
“Erik, what are we going to do?” Trude asked.
“I don’t know. We have to get into Königsberg without being detected.”
“I know where we must go.”
“Where?”
“I have a friend. Someone who will help us.” She explained, telling him the story of Captain Dutt’s friendship and help.
Erik nodded. “But how do we get there? I don’t know the way from here.”
“I do,” she said. “When I was younger, we visited family all over East Prussia and even parts of Poland. I’ve be
en here before. We just need to keep heading north. There’s an autobahn. We should hit it anytime. It will be safe.”
“What if there are roadblocks? If they’re checking papers?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “We’ll have to trust our luck.”
He nodded and sped on, driving down to a narrow road heading north. At least he hoped that was the direction they were going. Kilometer after kilometer passed and still they did not find the highway. He grew worried. “Are you sure we’re heading the right direction?”
“Yes . . . I think so,” she said.
Erik looked down at the gas tank. They only had a half tank and no money. Would it be enough to get them back to Königsberg? He didn’t know. He looked up again and saw to his relief that the trees thinned out ahead of him. He could see the long ribbon of an intersecting road. It was the autobahn.
They reached the highway in a few minutes. He kept looking behind him, expecting pursuit. So far they’d been lucky. He turned right on the highway, heading east on two wide-open lanes. There was no traffic. Erik punched the accelerator, every moment putting more distance between them and their pursuers.
Kilometers were passing them by. Erik kept an eye on the gas tank. The needle slowly dipped down. First three-eighths, then a quarter, then an eighth. He wasn’t sure they were going to make it, but even now in the distance he could see the outskirts of his city.
Trude took over as they pulled into the first outlying suburbs. She directed him off the autobahn and into the narrow streets, turning this way and that. Erik kept waiting for a soldier to stop them, demanding papers. Anything could stop them. An overzealous policeman might pull them over, perhaps sensing something slightly out of place.
It was late afternoon now, and the streets were practically deserted as they moved into the city. Erik was shocked to see block after block of rubble. The last time he’d been to Königsberg the city was virtually intact, having suffered only a couple of light bombings, but in the last few months everything had changed. Whole sections of the city were in ruins. Here and there a civilian walked among the rubble, picking through the bricks, looking for God knows what. Thankfully the streets were mostly clear of debris and they could advance.
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