A Bitter Rain

by James D. Shipman

  “We’re almost there,” said Trude. “Turn left up at the corner.”

  They rounded a curve up a slight hill and then went around the corner. “It’s right here,” she said excitedly.

  Erik turned into a driveway winding up an incline through the trees until they reached a clearing.

  “Oh no,” exclaimed Trude. The house was a pile of dust and brick. At the extreme ends on both sides, portions of the walls still stood, crumbling down in jagged curves like a mountain range. But the rest was debris.

  Before he could stop her, Trude had opened the door and was out, running toward the rubble. He pressed the parking brake and then jumped out himself, chasing after her.

  “No!” she kept repeating. Tears poured down her face.

  He put his hands gently on her shoulder. “Trude, I’m sorry. But we can’t stay here.”

  “They’re all dead.”

  Erik shook his head. “You don’t know that. The house is gone, but that doesn’t mean anything. There’s a pretty good warning system in the city. They were probably in a shelter.”

  She kept shaking her head. “No, I know they’re gone.”

  He turned her toward him. “Listen to me,” he said. “You don’t know that. More importantly, we can’t stay here. I need you to look at me. We’ve got to go. I must get to my family. I was hoping to change cars, but we’re going to have to risk it. Are you ready? Can we go?”

  She stared at him for a moment, and then he saw the understanding in her eyes. “Of course,” she said. “How selfish of me. Let’s go, please.”

  He led her to the car, and they backed their way carefully down the driveway and sped back the other direction. Erik knew where he was now and where to go. He wound his way through the streets, driving carefully, not wanting to attract any attention. He thought they would be relatively safe until they approached his own neighborhood. That’s where the real danger would come.

  Soon they were in his home district. They took a left on the Yorckstrasse. Erik slowed the vehicle, creeping forward as cautiously as he dared. He was only a couple of blocks from his house. He moved forward another block. Now he could see it on the left. He expected the front street to be blocked with multiple cars, police and Gestapo, but nobody was there. This only increased his suspicion. They had to be waiting for him by now. He crept the car farther forward, then made a U-turn and came slowly back down the street toward his house, stopping in front of it.

  “Get into the front seat,” he said to Trude. “If you see anything happen, drive away immediately.”

  “I have something to do,” said Trude. “I just need a few minutes. I left some things hidden at Frau Werner’s house. A couple rings and a gold coin, a little money. That will help us.”

  He hesitated then nodded. “Hurry,” he said. “I’ll just be a minute.” He stepped out of the car. Trude drove slowly down the street. Better if she wasn’t right there if the Gestapo was coming, he thought. He approached his front door cautiously, looking around. He knocked and waited, listening. There was no response. He knocked again. Still no answer. He reached down and turned the knob; the door was unlocked. He cautiously took a step inside. The front room was in disarray, chairs turned over, broken glass. Smatterings of clothing peppered the stairs. He ran from room to room calling out to his family desperately. Nobody answered. He was too late. Gunther must have gotten through to the Gestapo and had his family arrested. They would be in the SS jail; perhaps they were already dead. He fell to his knees, tears streaming down his cheeks as he beat his hands against his chest and buried his head in his bedroom mattress.

  And then he saw it. An envelope addressed to him rested near the lamp on the nightstand. He tore it open. There was a letter inside, written to him, in Corina’s careful, precise script. He read the contents carefully several times, and then, taking a deep breath, he tucked the note into his pocket. Gunther hadn’t found them. They were gone but safe. Karl had evacuated them to escape the Russians.

  There was more to the note. But he would think on that later. He sat at the edge of the bed, silent, alone. At least they were safe. That’s what mattered.

  Trude parked the car in front of Frau Werner’s house. She looked carefully at the front door. She realized the house could’ve been inhabited again. If so, she would certainly arouse suspicion. A woman in a nightgown with men’s boots and a heavy overcoat knocking at the front door. Still, she had to take the risk. They needed some money to help them escape. She had the jewelry and a little cash hidden away where nobody likely would have found it.

  She turned to her daughter. “Britta, I want you to stay here. Duck down and don’t look up. Don’t get out of the car or make any noise. If I’m not back in fifteen minutes, I want you to leave. Do you understand me?”

  Britta was clearly afraid. “But, Mother, where would I go? I can’t leave you. I can’t drive. I don’t know anyone.”

  “That doesn’t matter. You just get out of here and hide. Wait until the Russians arrive, then tell them you’re a Jew.”

  She knew her daughter would have little chance without her. Still, a small chance was better than none. “Do as I say,” she said sternly. Then she opened the door, closing it behind her, and walked up the walkway toward the door. Thankfully the street seemed to be deserted around her. There might be people watching her, but it made no difference. She would be in and out quickly, long before anyone could respond to a report.

  If nobody lived here, she would be safe. She checked the door handle and was relieved to find it unlocked. She stepped inside, looking around cautiously. She realized immediately the house was uninhabited. All of Frau Werner’s possessions were still there. She’d expected to find broken furniture, signs of a struggle, but everything looked the same as the day she had left. Furniture and books held a lonely vigil, all coated with a deep layer of dust, but otherwise undisturbed.

  She took the stairs as quickly as possible and went into Britta’s old bedroom. She opened the closet and saw with relief her clothes still hanging there. She removed the overcoat and the gown and quickly put on a dress, her own heavy woolen coat, and some silk stockings. She rummaged around at the base of the closet and found a pair of boots. Now she looked like any other German dressed against the cold. Her outward appearance would no longer garner any suspicion.

  She kneeled under the clothing and crawled to the back of the closet. She grappled around, eventually finding the corner seam of the carpet and pulling it up. Beneath was a small section of the floor she had cut away carefully, night after night, with a pocketknife. A hiding spot unknown even to Frau Werner. She removed the flooring and reached her hand in. She pulled up and found with relief everything was still there. She removed two rings, one of them with diamonds, one gold coin, and a small stack of Reichsmarks. She tucked them into the interior pocket of her wool coat. Trude stood, reached above the clothing, and pulled down a winter hat, placing it firmly on her head.

  She wanted to bring some things for Britta, too, but she realized her daughter had outgrown everything there. She smiled to herself, grabbing some of her own things for her daughter. She’s a woman now.

  She started back down the stairs and reached the landing. She was starving, she realized. But there would be no food in the house after all this time. She turned to go.

  “Frau Bensheim.” The words froze her blood. She turned and there he was, a waking nightmare. Gunther sat in Mrs. Werner’s favorite chair in the sitting room. His legs were crossed, his hands combing casually through a magazine. His pipe unlit in his mouth. “Where are you going in such a hurry?” he asked. He looked her up and down. “And all dressed up for the weather, too.”

  She turned to him. “Gunther, please, I’m begging you to let me go.”

  “Why in the world would I do that, my dear? After everything I’ve done for you. Come on now, after I worked so hard to make all the arrangements, and then you desert me and even have the bad manners to steal my car?”

  She took a st
ep forward, hands out in supplication. “Gunther, I owe you my life. You’ve helped me survive. But it’s too dangerous for me to go to Germany. I need to escape, to get away. I’m asking you, if you truly love me, I’m begging, please let me go.”

  He watched her intently for a moment, and then he broke into a wide grin. He shook his head. “Unfortunately, that’s not the plan, my dear. You just haven’t been listening well lately. I told you you’re coming with me, and so is Britta. How irresponsible of you to leave her in the car. She’s asleep fortunately. Teenagers. How little they know of life.”

  Gunther chuckled. He rose and took a step toward her. Trude took a step back. “I can’t believe you would do this to me,” he said, his voice growing in anger. “After everything we’ve been through. I protected you, protected your daughter. I’ve given you the world. I’ve loved you, yet you repay me like this!” His voice rose to a shout.

  Trude felt her own anger, a defiance exploding out of her. “You gave me this?” she said. “Wrong! You stole it from me. You only protected me and Britta for your own selfish reasons. I went along all this time to save my daughter, but I’ve never loved you. How could you ever believe that? None of this ever came with my consent. You’re a cruel, horrid monster, Gunther!” She saw the words crashing over him. His face flushed and he assumed a wounded expression.

  “How can you say such things, my darling?” he said, shock in his voice. “You’re not in your right mind. Poor child, you’ve been through so much today, haven’t you?” His voice was soft. “Don’t worry, everything is going to be fine. I’ve made some calls so my friends will be here in just a minute. I brought my things.” He gestured toward a heavy bag near the chair. “Everything we will need. I have the papers for you and Britta. Don’t worry, I will forgive you. Let’s forget about this.” He took another step forward and grasped her by the shoulders. Trude was shaking; the nightmare was washing over her again. He pulled her close, kissing her on the neck. “Don’t worry, my dear,” he whispered again. “We will be together forever.”

  “No!” she screamed. Pushing back, she shoved him hard, pulling away, but he caught her by the wrist. He slapped her with the back of his hand. She spun to the ground, crashing hard against the wooden floor of the entryway.

  “You stupid bitch!” he screamed, kicking her. “Who do you think you are?” He grabbed her by the hair, pulling her to her knees. “You’re coming with me. We are going now!”

  He pulled her up to his waist, and her arms went around him, fighting him, trying to escape. He was dragging her toward the door.

  She searched desperately with her hands, finally finding what she was looking for. She grasped an object at his belt. Pulling with all of her might, she drew Gunther’s pistol out of its holster, raising it with one rapid motion and pressing the barrel against his chin. His hand came up, grabbing the end of the gun, starting to pull her away. She pulled the trigger. A thunderous roar echoed through the house. Gunther’s head snapped back and his body crumpled against the ground, writhing back and forth, his blood pooling in the carpet. She took careful aim and shot him again in the chest twice. The body stopped moving. She ran over and picked up the heavy satchel near the chair, shoving the pistol into her coat pocket.

  She stormed out of the house. Britta was there halfway out the car, her eyes full of fear. Trude walked rapidly toward the vehicle. There were people outside now on their porches staring at her, pointing. She jumped into the driver’s seat and sped back down the road toward Erik’s home. She pulled up to his town house even as she saw the black cars rolling down the street, heading toward Frau Werner’s. They had no time.

  Erik was already on the porch, sprinting toward her. He headed toward the driver’s seat, but she rolled down the window and screamed at him to get in. He paused for a moment and then stepped around to the passenger side.

  “What is it?” he said.

  “Get in now!” she screamed. He jumped in and she pulled away, not even pausing for him to close the door. She roared down the street away from Frau Werner’s and took a sharp turn, heading north.

  “What’s going on?” demanded Erik.

  “Gunther was there,” she said, her hands shaking and tears filling her eyes.

  “Oh my God!” said Erik. “What happened?”

  Trude pulled over, no longer able to drive, her heart wrenching. “He’s gone,” she said. “He’s finally gone.” She buried her head in Erik’s chest and let the uncontrollable sobs overwhelm her. She felt the dizziness storming through her body, and then there was darkness.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Königsberg

  December 1944

  Erik took over the controls and whisked them through the streets of Königsberg. Darkness was finally falling, a blissful mask to hide them from the world. They were safer now. Certainly the Gestapo would’ve discovered Gunther’s death, but they were no longer heading to a predictable location, and they had false papers. They could go to all points of the compass. With the Russians coming in, Erik doubted the police would be out in full force looking for them. One dead Gestapo major would not likely shut down the city.

  Erik’s feelings were confirmed as they drove farther and farther away, finally connecting again to the autobahn. He turned onto it, this time heading south. Trude sat next to him in the front seat, Britta behind them.

  “Thank you,” he heard. It was Trude, looking over, gratefulness filling her voice.

  “For what?” he asked.

  “For saving our lives,” she said.

  “I did it for myself,” he said. “I’ve lived as a selfish observer to all the horrors around me. I was trying to protect my family. I finally realized I had to do something for someone else. Besides, it looks like my family deserted me,” he said bitterly.

  “You still saved us,” she said. “It doesn’t matter why. You did it.”

  He nodded, not knowing how to answer.

  “What happened to your family?” she asked. He didn’t answer but silently reached into his pocket, pulling out the letter. He handed it to Trude. “Read it out loud,” he said.

  She unfolded the note, glancing at the first few words, then started to read:

  Dear Erik:

  I don’t know if you’ll ever find this letter. But if you do, I am thankful that you are safe. Unfortunately, there is no safety left here in Königsberg for us. The Russians are coming. They will be here any day now. I cannot sacrifice our family to remain and wait for you. As I told you in our last letter, Karl has taken care of all the arrangements and is leading our family to safety.

  I hope if you read this, you will find comfort that your parents, your little girl, and your wife have been taken out of harm’s way.

  The next part is difficult for me to tell you, but you deserve to know the truth. Karl and I have grown very close these past years. I don’t know how it happened, but it did. He is strong, wise, and a good provider. I don’t blame you, Erik. I know you did your best, but in the end, you failed us. If you love me and our daughter, you will let us go. We are off to a safer, better life, away from the death and the suffering.

  I know all of this will be terribly difficult to hear, but I ask you to let us start a new life. Please don’t try to come look for us. I wish you the very best. The world around us is falling apart. I do not think we will ever meet again. May fortune bless you, dearest.

  Corina

  The car was utterly silent. “How could she?” said Trude. “You’ve been stuck in that hellhole, and in the meantime, she fell in love with that SS bastard? What kind of a woman does that?” she asked.

  “The kind of woman that Corina is,” said Erik. “My wife likes safety, comfort, money, status. That’s what she’s been fighting for. She pushed me to achieve her dreams, and I did—well, almost. I lost everything she wanted in the snow outside Kharkov. After that, we’ve never had a marriage.”

  “But none of those things are real,” said Trude. “I grew up with wealth. It’s an illusio
n. Silver and gold and shiny cars won’t bring back Johannes. It won’t protect our children, or help us to laugh, or live.”

  He nodded. “She never understood that. I don’t think she ever will.”

  Trude reached her hand over and grabbed Erik’s, giving him a gentle squeeze. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “What will you do?”

  “I’ll find them,” he said. “I’ll get you to safety first, and then I’ll find them, some way, somehow. I don’t care about Corina, but she will not keep Greta away from me, and I must look after my parents.”

  “What about after that?”

  “I don’t know,” he said.

  She squeezed his hand. “Don’t worry about that right now. Let’s just concern ourselves with the present.”

  Erik secured some gas from a lonely station on the edge of a nameless town, then they rode along in silence as the darkness deepened. The road became ever icier and more treacherous as they moved through the rolling hills of East Prussia. Within a couple of hours, they were almost back to the turnoff to Soldau, but this time they would not head south. They would continue west toward Hamburg, and then the Rhine. Erik wanted to turn them over to the Americans. He didn’t know what would happen when they got to the American troops, but he knew the Russians. Their only chance was to escape into the hands of the western Allies. Hopefully they would protect Trude and Britta.

  They were nearing the turnoff to Soldau when he saw it. Men stood on the highway, blocking his path, rifles at the ready. His heart sank. The Gestapo. Somehow they’d tracked them down. They would not escape after all. He started to slow down.

  “Who is it?” said Trude.