Playing With Matches

by Lee Strauss

  But it was sweat running off his forehead into his eyes. He threw his sheet off with a flick of his leg, lying exposed in his underwear. Who’d turned on the heat?

  By morning, Georg was coughing, too, and by the end of the day, half the barrack lay sick in their bunks. Pneumonia had spread across the camp.

  The bad news was the Nazi regime didn’t want to pay for them to regain their health. The burden would belong to their families. The good news: Emil was going back to Passau.

  He barely remembered the train ride home, only how soothing the cool glass of the window felt against his cheek. He didn’t remember being picked up by Mother and Helmut, or how he’d made it to his bed.

  Vaguely he’d been aware of someone holding his head up to sip water—his tongue running along the rough chapped surface of his lips—and tapping his brow with a cool cloth. But mostly he slept, oblivious to the fact that the war had indeed found its way to their corner of Germany. That Johann and Katharina’s father had been killed when a bomb landed on the orchestra playing in Munich, that food trucks no longer cared about the people of Passau, and that Allied bombers were flying ever closer.

  One day the shadow in his room spoke to him. “Emil? Can you hear me?”

  Emil felt his eye lids flutter as he struggled to open them. He knew this voice. “Mother?”

  “Yes, Emil, I’m here. Oh, son. You’re going to be okay.”

  Emil sensed something in her voice. Happiness? Relief?

  Eventually the weight on his lungs lifted. He could draw breath in deeply, and the heat in his body subsided.

  One day when Helmut brought him a bowl of thin soup, Emil inquired about the Ackermanns.

  “Johann is home on leave,” Helmut said, settling into a wooden kitchen chair their mother had carried up. “Mother told him we’d let them know when you were well enough for a visit.”

  “I’m well enough,” Emil said, desperate to see Katharina again. And Johann too, of course. “Go tell them.”

  Johann and Katharina arrived later that afternoon. In his mind, Katharina would walk through his bedroom door, pausing briefly before flinging her body over his, weeping for joy that he still lived.

  In reality she hesitated, letting Johann take the lead. She didn’t fling herself, or even touch him. Her eyes reflected melancholy when she smiled.

  “Hey, old man,” Johann joked. “Nice of you to make room in your busy schedule for us.”

  “Yeah, well, you can see I’ve been busy. Thanks for coming.”

  Emil shifted his gaze from Johann’s to Katharina’s.

  “Hello, Emil.”

  “Hello.”

  “I’m so happy to hear that you are feeling better.”

  “It’s good to be home.”

  Emil was surprised by the awkwardness in the room, like they hadn’t grown up together. Like they hadn’t been best friends. Like they hadn’t written those letters.

  “Well,” Johann said, “don’t get well too quickly. They’ll just send you back once they get wind of any sign of good health.”

  Emil grunted. “I’ll do my best.”

  The room was grey even though Mother had opened the blinds, and Emil could feel the cold air that whistled through the window panes.

  “Mother told me about your father,” Emil said. “I’m sorry.”

  Johann and Katharina both stared at their feet. Katharina bit her lip, pinching her eyes shut.

  “Thanks,” Johann finally said. “It’s the irony of war. Those who want to live, die. Those who want to die, live on.”

  “Oh, I don’t know, Johann. Death is pretty indiscriminate, as far as I can tell.”

  Johann shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. “I wonder what Moritz would think if he were here now.”

  “It seems like just yesterday we were at his house listening to the BBC,” Emil said. “Although, I remember us being a whole lot smaller.”

  “That’s how I remember him,” Katharina added softly. “A little boy. Never to be a man.”

  “He’s lucky in a way,” said Johann. “He didn’t have to see what’s become of Germany. It would’ve broken his heart.”

  “It breaks all our hearts,” said Katharina.

  “I can’t believe we actually did what we did back then,” added Johann.

  “If we knew how bad it was going to get,” Emil said, “we probably would have done more.”

  “We can’t be too hard on ourselves,” Katharina said. “We were only kids. We’re still only kids.”

  Emil thought Johann would leave him and Katharina alone for a little while before they left, but to his disappointment, they said good-bye and left together.

  Things had changed between him and Katharina, and if there was ever anything special growing between them, he felt sure it was gone now.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  MARCH

  IT WAS a daily struggle to survive. Food was scarce to non-existent. The bombs fell all around them, sometimes too close for comfort. Because of his illness, Emil couldn’t make it to the shelter down the street on time. He had to go down into their own cellar for protection.

  Begging Mother and Helmut to leave him was futile so they would sit together in the damp, cool basement, where the vegetables were once kept from freezing during the winters.

  The piercing cry of the sirens rang out again. The coldness of the room scratched at his lungs. They huddled together crouching down on the exposed earth and waited.

  The earth trembled. Close, but not a direct hit. It was as if Passau was just target practice for bigger centers like Munich or Nuremberg.

  Emil stared at the potato bin. Nothing but potatoes since he’d arrived from Nuremberg. Mother gave thanks before making the meal now. Emil could see why. There were only a few left. He could see the bottom of the bin. They would surely starve to death before the war was over.

  As it was, after the sirens stopped, Helmut grabbed three potatoes for their mid-day meal. Now Emil was really worried.

  Before they ate, Mother and Helmut bowed their heads to pray again. To be polite, Emil said Amen along with them.

  “I hate to bring this up,” Emil started. “But at this rate, we will be out of potatoes by the end of the week. Did you not notice that the bin is nearly empty?”

  Helmut and Mother exchanged glances.

  “God is our provider, Emil,” Mother said. Now, Emil wanted to respect her faith but in this case he was certain she was misguided. If they didn’t find more food soon, they were in trouble. Helmut interrupted his thoughts.

  “The bin’s been like that for weeks.”

  “Been like what?”

  “Nearly empty.”

  “How could that be possible?”

  Helmut shrugged. “I don’t know. It just never goes empty.”

  Could that be true? Emil looked at Mother. She didn’t contradict him. And if there was one thing Emil knew about Mother, she didn’t lie.

  A short while after the sirens ended, Katharina knocked on the door.

  “The planes are gone, and it’s spring,” she started. “I wondered if you’d like to go for a walk. That is if you feel up to it.”

  “Yes,” Emil answered quickly. “I feel fine.”

  He grabbed a jacket and joined Katharina as they walked down the cobbled street. The breezed still blew cool, but the sun on his face felt hopeful. They walked slowly. Even though Emil wanted to proclaim good health, his lungs still protested and his body lacked its former strength.

  “I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you,” Katharina said.

  “I’ve noticed that. Why?”

  “People are dying. I just thought that maybe it would be better not to get too close.”

  Emil stopped. “You miss your father.”

  She let her gaze fall. “Yes, I do. Very much. I think of him every day.”

  Then she looked him in the eyes. “I’m afraid of losing the people I love.”

  The people I love, he thought. Me?

 
Emil took a chance and reached for her hand. “I understand. There are no guarantees. But, you really have no choice.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We’ve been through too much already. Been friends too long. The damage has already been done.”

  She smiled. “I see.”

  They walked hand in hand to the end of the street, Katharina matching his gait, comfortably silent.

  At the end Emil turned to her.

  His second biggest fear after death was dying without ever having kissed a girl. Without ever having kissed Katharina.

  She tilted her head up to his and Emil knew this was it. He leaned in to kiss her. Her lips were soft and sweet and he melted, his whole body tingling with warmth.

  She pulled away and smiled shyly. “I should go back.”

  They walked back to Emil’s front door grinning, feeling happy like the war wasn’t going on at all.

  “Will I see you tomorrow?” he asked. And every day after that, please?

  “Yes. I’ll see you again tomorrow.” She waved as she turned the corner out of sight.

  Emil saw Katharina often after that. She either stopped in so Emil could join her on an errand into town, or Emil rode his bike to the farm to see her, his lungs growing stronger each day. They were at war, and there wasn’t much time for leisure, so they spent most of their time working together, usually on the farm. Emil didn’t mind the work so much as long as they were together. Still recovering from his illness, he was relegated to the barn, pitching hay or gathering eggs. The Reich had supplied the Ackermanns with more hens and an extra milking cow, but most of the goods were still shipped out of town. There was a thriving black market going on as well. Eggs and milk slipped away out of the view of the officers who milled around. Most of them were locals, and turned a blind eye, knowing that an extra egg or two could end up on their table.

  At the end of each day, Emil would kiss Katharina good night.

  “Do you think they’ll let you stay?” she whispered one night. He knew she meant the army. His cough had subsided and the doctor had declared him well. Johann had returned weeks ago and the army was desperate for soldiers. It was just a matter of time.

  “I’m not fit for the front, but I’m still useful to them, I think,” he said.

  “I hope you don’t go.” She embraced him, holding tight. Emil held her back and kissed the top of her head. All he wanted was to take her away to some safe place and just love her. His body tensed with anger that he was helpless to do this.

  “I’m not gone, yet.” Emil lifted her chin and forced a smile. “Let’s not worry about tomorrow, okay?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  MAY

  STRAFING AIRCRAFT could come at anytime. Small, low-flying planes, sometimes American, sometimes British, would buzz over towns, over fields, indiscriminately firing their machine guns.

  Emil thought they were worse than the bombers in that there was seldom a siren for warnings. They were safe, and then suddenly they weren’t.

  Perhaps the Allies did this to break the psyche of the German people, Emil mused. Perhaps they just got bored in between bombings, and target shooting the enemy provided them with a bit of fun.

  Sometimes, if they were lucky, Passau residents heard them coming in time to hide in a barn or bombed-out cellar.

  Helmut and Karl went scavenging for food every afternoon before their evening shifts at the searchlight battery. Emil happened to be on his bicycle riding back from the Ackermann’s when he spotted them, digging, looking for turnips or carrots, any type of root vegetable that may be thriving, hidden underground.

  He stopped and waved.

  “Hey, Helmut! Karl!”

  They waved back. Watching his little brother, Emil was overcome with pride. He worked as hard as any soldier, truly taking the place of the man of the house while Emil and Father were gone. He looked after Mother, and did his duties to protect Germany. Emil felt sorrow, too. Helmut never had a chance to be a child. No time to be free of worry and fear and responsibility and by the time this war was over, his chance at childhood would be gone for good.

  A low rumbling, a buzzing motorized hum.

  Oh, no.

  “Helmut! Helmut!” Emil pointed up. They saw it, too. They started to run, but were caught, out in the middle of the field.

  “Run, run!” Emil shouted dropping his bike. He ran, but they were too far. His lungs burned. He fell to the ground as the plane closed in. It swooped lower and fired. Helmut and Karl dropped to the dirt, arms over head. Two rows of ammunition hit the field, rat-tat-tat-tat, rat-tat-tat-tat, spraying dust into the air.

  Then it was gone. Emil picked himself up, his heart racing, fear prickling every inch of his body. The boys remained on the ground.

  Get up. Get up!

  Helmut lifted his head, flinging dirt out of his hair. Emil breathed out in relief. He sprinted to his side.

  “Helmut! Are you okay?”

  His little brother shifted more, pushing himself up. “Karl?”

  Helmut and Emil reached Karl at the same time. He was face down. Red dots spotted his back.

  “Karl!” Helmut turned him over. “Oh, no!” he cried. “Karl, no.”

  Karl’s chest oozed with blood. It remained still, not rising with breath.

  Emil laid a trembling hand on Helmut’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

  “Why, Emil? Why?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Poor Helmut, Emil thought. Sometimes a man, sometimes a child, now a bit of both. I don’t know how to help you.

  “He was my best friend,” Helmut cried. Tears poured down his face, drawing white streaks through the dust on his skin.

  “I need him, Emil. I need him.” Helmut bent over Karl’s body and sobbed.

  Emil had to help his mother hold Frau Schwarz up at Karl’s short funeral, her legs buckling under her weight as she sobbed openly. For days afterward, Helmut seemed to curl up inside himself, his chin heavy against his chest as he dutifully completed the tasks the Deutsches Jungvolk required of him. Emil wished there was something he could do to bring cheer to his family, but the regime had other plans.

  A notice came for him in the mail. The army had determined that Emil was well enough to get back into the fight. They were sending him back to Nuremberg.

  “I can't believe you're leaving again,” Katharina said softly. Emil took her hand and weaved his fingers through hers. He couldn't believe it either. Tomorrow he'd be gone.

  They strolled through the park by St. Stephens along the riverside. From here, downtown Passau looked locked in time, unscathed by war. Emil wished he could keep this moment locked away, too.

  “Everything just seems so hopeless,” Katharina said.

  The mood in the nation was the gloomiest it had ever been in more than four years of war. Everyone felt overwhelming despair. Emil could see it in the hollowness of their eyes, in the shuffle of their walk.

  “It can’t be much longer now, can it?” Katharina said. “A year maybe?”

  The end of the war. It was the only thing on everyone’s mind.

  “I hope so. Maybe less.” Emil wished he could comfort her in some way, but he had nothing to offer her. Nothing at all.

  “I wonder what it will be like,” she said. “I guess it means every German, you, me, everyone, will be prisoners of war.”

  “Let’s just pray it’s the Americans or the British that capture us.”

  “Why?”

  Emil shrugged. “I’ve heard things.” The brutality of the Reds. “I don’t know. Either way, it won’t be good.”

  “It’s so depressing.” She stopped and looked at him then. “You know, I like to dream about a different world. One where I get married, have children, build a home in a place where bombs aren’t falling. Where I’m not afraid all the time. Is that crazy? Am I a child?”

  “I love you.” Emil blurted out. “I want to marry you.” He couldn’t stop himself. He'd thought about it all the time, about
her. He shared her dream of a life after the war. He didn’t know if he’d still be here then, but he wanted to be, really wanted to be, because of her.

  She burst out crying.

  “Katharina?” Was he wrong?

  “Oh, Emil. I love you, too.”

  She kissed him hard and his nerves exploded. He wanted to take her away right then and there, but Katharina was not a wanton girl like Irmgard. That was what Emil loved about her.

  “I wish I could give you something to remember this day by, so that you won’t forget me,” he said.

  “We could do as the Americans do,” Katharina said with a twinkle in her eye. She tugged a loose blue string that hung button-free on her coat. She held it in the air, smiling.

  Understanding, Emil took it and carefully and wrapped it around her finger.

  “Voila,” Emil said.

  “It’s perfect,” Katharina gushed.

  He tied a knot, making sure the string wasn't wrapped too tightly, but secure enough that it wouldn't fall off. “You are spoken for, young lady.”

  Katharina held her hand out in front as if she were showing off a ten karat diamond. “That I am.”

  Later that night Emil told his mother he’d asked Katharina to marry him. A part of him was afraid she would chastise him for being silly—that sixteen was too young.

  But nobody was young anymore.

  Mother just hugged him and told him congratulations. Saying good-bye to him again was more than enough for her to deal with in that moment.

  At the train station the next day, she and Helmut said good-bye with big hugs and tears and wished Emil well, leaving before the train arrived so he could have the last few precious minutes with Katharina.

  Her cheeks were damp with tears, and he kissed the salty wetness away, holding her tight.

  “It will be okay,” he soothed. “We will see each other again soon. Remember, only a year and then our life together can begin.”

  “Only a year.”

  It might be a dream, but they were dreaming it together.

  The train arrived and Emil boarded. As he watched Katharina disappear into the distance, his heart stretched and tore like a rubber band and he thought he might vomit in the chair beside him.