by Roxi Harms
As they sat watching the station, he heard his sister's teeth chatter and looked over. Crouched down beside him with her arms wrapped around herself, she was shivering uncontrollably. He looked back at the station. He'd seen several people with luggage or parcels go in. He hadn't seen any sign of any uniforms.
"Let's wait inside," he said, changing his mind. "We'll just have to keep a good eye out."
It was wonderfully warm in the station. After buying their tickets, Adam sat down beside Theresa towards the back of the waiting area.
"We're almost there. The train leaves in an hour," he said, smiling at her. "Tonight you'll see Mom and Dad and George."
"I can't believe it, Adam. I still can't believe you crossed over the fence to the Russian side to get me," she whispered, leaning her head on his shoulder.
As they sat quietly, Adam focused on staying awake, watching nervously each time the station door opened. As the departure time approached, the crowd in the station grew. Families with children swinging their legs from their seats, young couples holding hands, farmers with gunny sacks, young guys puffing on cigarettes. Suitcases, satchels, pillowcases, parcels, each packed for someone's journey, were strewn along the space at their feet, between the rows of seats that faced each other. Adam and Theresa moved down to the end of their row to make room for a mother and her three children. As they were settling into their new seats, the door opened again. Adam's head jerked up. A young guy with a backpack was coming in. Pulling the door shut behind him, he jerked his thumb towards the street. Adam strained to hear what he was saying. A second later, the word police rippled through the crowd, each person turning to the people next to him or her to share the warning.
Adam looked around wildly. Nowhere to go.
"Hey, excuse me, excuse me," he said, addressing everyone in the vicinity. Several heads turned in his direction as he rushed on. "We just got my sister over the fence. She has no papers yet." He turned and spoke to Theresa. "Lie down on the floor." Then to the crowd, he said "Please don't mind me. I'm not stealing anything. Resi, lie down right here, hurry, lie down." Scrambling to grab suitcases and parcels, he piled them around and on top of her, forming a row of luggage that ran between the two rows of seats. A few people reached over and handed him their bags to add to the pile. Everyone watched the door nervously.
"Hurry up!" someone hissed.
Shrugging out of his coat, Adam tossed it casually over the end of the pile where Theresa was concealed, then sat back down in his seat as the station door creaked open.
"Papers!" the police officer called out to the room.
Ten minutes later, Adam sighed in relief and slumped down in his chair. The door had closed behind the policeman. He hadn't given the luggage pile a second glance.
"Thank you," he said with a grin to the people nearby.
"Best to wait a few more minutes," a man across from Adam suggested. "Sometimes they come back. The train will be here pretty soon. She can get up and get straight on when it arrives."
Adam nodded. Good idea.
"Did you hear that, Resi?" he leaned forward and asked the pile, keeping his eyes on the door.
"Yes," came the muffled response.
A few minutes later, the train pulled in.
"The train is here, Resi, and there's no police," Adam called down into the pile as people began grabbing their belongings. Theresa sat up, knocking the last couple of bags off. Her hair was plastered around her face with sweat.
"Oh my, it was hot under there," she said laughing shyly at the small crowd watching to see the girl who had escaped from the east.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE
Adam and Theresa settled into a seat in the corner of the train and watched in silence as the snowy landscape slid by. Adam leaned back and closed his eyes. He'd done it. Theresa was safe. The family was back together. Except for Anni. He needed to find a way to get more food for everyone, and he'd have to apply for bigger accommodation, but those things were minor. Resi was safe, and they were all back together. Feeling himself drifting into sleep, Adam sat up and shook his head. Theresa was watching him, a soft smile on her face.
"Thank God you ran away to war, Adam," Theresa said, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Thank God. The women who guarded us had these big guns. They were animals. They were so angry. I can only imagine what the men's camps must have been like. I didn't know people could be like that. I didn't know they were capable of such cruelty to each other."
Adam nodded. He'd had no idea either, before.
"There's something else I need to tell you," Theresa continued a few minutes later. She spoke slowly, pausing between sentences. "Your friend Franz was in my camp. We were on a bricklaying crew. Me and Aunt Maria were assigned to the same crew, thank God. We had to carry bricks to the bricklayers and mix mud for them. They woke us up to start work at six in the morning and let us go back to our rooms at six in the evening. Every day. At first it was mostly women on the crew. It was considered lighter work and the men were assigned to another camp doing harder work.
"Anyway, a few months after we got there, Franz came onto our crew. He was sick. He was so skinny. We were all skinny by then, but he was worse. He had dysentery. The Russians didn't care. There were no doctors or anything like that. After a few weeks he couldn't work anymore. I saw him once after that. He was looking through the fence. He could hardly stand. Then I didn't see him again. I'm so sorry, Adam. But I thought you'd want to know."
Tears slid down Adam's cheeks as he listened and imagined his best friend's last days. When Theresa finished, he stared out the window, not seeing anything. He and Franz had had a lot of fun together. Teasing that kid with the white suit, building forts, ice-skating, watching the stallions and the mares. Glancing over, he watched as his sister gave in to the exhaustion and let her eyelids close.
A while later, she stirred.
"You know, I always thought Germany would be such a grand place," she said, watching the destroyed buildings and piles of rubble sliding past outside. "Remember how everyone talked about it when we were kids? And now it's a wasteland. Just ruins. Everything is broken. And
everyone looks sad."
"Yes, there's a lot of sadness. And everyone's hungry. There's nothing to buy in the shops most days. And hardly anything at the market.
Almost every day I have to hunt for food for everyone." A few minutes later, he spoke again. "Just two more stops and we'll be there," he said.
As the train slowed for the second stop, Theresa got up and looked back at Adam. "Well?"
"I was just kidding. This isn't our stop," he grinned. "It's the next one."
The train rolled along for another quarter of an hour before it began to slow for the next stop. Theresa was grinning from ear to ear as she stood up and moved into the aisle, joining the queue to get off the train.
"I can't wait to see Grandma," she said over her shoulder to where Adam was standing behind her.
"Me too. But this isn't really our stop." Adam burst out laughing and sat back down.
"What? Really, Adam?" she said turning around. When she'd sat back down, she leaned forward and kicked his shin.
"Ow!"
"Okay, this is it," Adam said as the train slowed for the Laudenbach stop.
"Is it now?" Theresa looked at him, her arms folded across her chest.
"Yes, this is really our stop," he said, laughing as he stood up and moved towards the door. "Come on."
Theresa sat, unmoving.
"Resi, get up." Adam was at the door now. Everyone else had already climbed off. The oncoming passengers were elbowing past him. "Resi, this train is going to take off in a minute and go to Weinheim. Get up!"
The conductor's whistle blew and Adam felt the train inch forward. Running back, he grabbed his sister's arm and pulled her to her feet. Tugging the door back open, Adam jumped out, dragging Theresa out of the moving train with him.
When they reached their mom and dad's door, Adam reached up and turned the knob
, then pushed it open and motioned for Theresa to go in. It was supper time. Their mom, dad, and George all looked towards the sound of the door.
"Oh, my girl!" his mom's chair fell over backwards as she jumped up and threw her arms around Theresa. "Oh, my girl, my precious girl," she mumbled into Theresa's hair, holding her tight, as their dad wrapped his arms around them both.
"George, look at you," Theresa said when she'd unravelled herself from her mom's arms. "Come here." George got up shyly and walked into Theresa's outstretched arms. "Oh, my God, you were just a boy when I saw you last. You're so grown up."
"I've got a job now," George said, looking at his big sister from under his lashes.
Their mom and Theresa burst into laughter, as everyone mopped at their eyes.
"George is working with me," said their dad. "He's. . . "
"Oh, Adam, I was so worried about you," Adam's mom turned towards him where he was watching from the doorway, a satisfied smile on his face. Walking over, she hugged him hard and then let him go and turned back into the room. "Oh, my God, Resi, you're really here. Now we're all here. We all made it. We're all alive and we're together." A smile radiated from her face.
And then suddenly, the smile vanished and fresh tears filled her eyes.
"I didn't save anything for the two of you to eat. My girl is back with us after two years, and I have nothing to feed you. After everything you've been through. Oh, Resi, I'm sorry."
"It's okay, Mom. There was food on the train, and we're really not hungry," Theresa lied.
"Let's go and tell Grandma and Grandpa you're both home safe. They might have a bite left. They've been waiting for news every day. And tomorrow, we'll have a proper meal," their mom said, turning to grab
her coat.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO
That weekend, all the relatives pooled their food items for a celebration dinner to welcome Theresa home. The evening passed in a happy glow as Adam and Theresa sat in the centre of the crowded little room, regaling everyone with their tales of getting in and out of the Russian zone. The room exploded into laughter as Theresa recapped how a mysterious stranger came to the barn and began questioning her.
Not long after, a job came up at the noodle factory where Martin worked, and soon Theresa was contentedly heading to work each day, contributing her weekly pay to the family kitty. As the days began to warm, Adam whistled his favourite tunes and often pulled out his harmonica on his way to and from work. His mom was even starting to gain some weight. He was pleased. Another good sign.
"I guess you're not so grown up as you think you are, Adam," Mrs. Pope laughed at him when he mentioned his mom's good health one morning. "You can't recognize a pregnant woman yet. How long has your dad been back?" She smiled at Adam, eyebrows raised.
Adam felt his face go red. How dare his dad do this? Hadn't his mom been through enough already? Now to have to go through childbirth at her age. It was dangerous. And to have another mouth to feed. For weeks Adam stomped around, silently raging at his dad.
Little Frank arrived in late July, the first Baumann to be born in a hospital. The joy on his mom's face as she gazed down at her newborn dispelled what remained of Adam's anger. With a book of contraband ration cards from Petra, he set about finding baby clothes and a pram for his baby brother. That way at least his mom wouldn't have to carry him everywhere.
"Wow, Adam, you work fast," called out a female voice from a window above the street, as Adam strolled home from the train station in the sunshine pushing a shiny new pram and whistling a tune. He looked up. Two of the girls he knew from the choir were leaning out a window, giggling. "We didn't even know you were married."
Adam laughed up at the girls. "It's for my baby brother who was born last week."
"Pretty fancy," said the other girl. "Lucky baby. See you at the dance tomorrow night."
"You sure will," said Adam, with a wink up at the girls before continuing toward the farmhouse at the edge of town where they'd all moved after Theresa's return. He couldn't wait to see the look on his mom and dad's faces. First Baumann baby to have a pram too.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE
Adam had seen the old man from Elek on his way to and from work many times, ambling along the pleasant little road that was flanked by wheat fields and apple trees, hands clasped behind him, a smile on his face. But that day, the man shuffled along, his weathered face solemn, his eyes downcast.
Adam stopped his bike.
"Hello, there. How are you today, sir?" he asked.
After a bit of prodding, the old man explained what had happened.
The conviction that the stronger members of the community should always help the weaker ones had been a part of Adam's belief system since he was a child. What had happened to the old man was wrong.
"It was Hans, I'm sure of it. He lives in the main street in Laudenbach," Adam said to his friends a few days later, "in that fancy house with the blue shutters. The old guy described him perfectly, and I've seen him along that road before. I think his family has a garden along there. He called the old man a dirty Hungarian Gypsy and made him drop the apples he'd picked up from the ditch." They were standing in the street outside the movie theatre. "Hans has a girlfriend here in Hemsbach. He often takes her to see a movie on Saturday. I've seen them in there lots of times. I came and waited across the street before the show started and saw them go in. When this show finishes in a few minutes, I'll bet you anything he'll be dropping her off and then riding home. We need to teach him a lesson."
His friends looked uneasy. After a moment, one of them spoke up. "Adam, you know it's always us that gets in trouble. Did you hear about the latest brawl? At the soccer game in Weinheim last night? It was Hans and his buddies who started it, but the police hauled away a couple of kids from Elek and a couple of Czech Germans instead. Just kids, younger and smaller than Hans and his friends. And the police didn't say a word to the locals. It's the same every time."
"I know, but I got an idea from that new western movie we watched the other day. No one will know it was us," said Adam, leaning in to explain his plan.
A half-hour later, the three of them crouched down in the bushes waiting for Hans.
"Shhhh, there he is," said Adam, his voice a bit muffled.
When Hans was a couple of bike lengths away, out they jumped.
"What the hell?" said Hans, slamming on his brakes.
"Off your bike and hands in the air," said Adam through the handkerchief tied over his nose and mouth, western style. He spoke in an extra deep voice.
"You've got to be kidding," said Hans, looking at the three bandits in front of him.
"Off your bike now, or you'll be sorry," said another one of the bandits, raising his fists in front of him.
"He's not kidding," said the third. Still Hans didn't move.
"I guess he needs some help," growled Adam.
Wrestling Hans off the bike, one guy pinned his arms behind his back so that the others could get in a few punches.
"That's enough," Adam said to his friends as blood dribbled out of Hans' nose. Then he spoke to Hans. "Now take off your clothes."
"What?" said Hans, incredulous.
"Do you want some more?"
"No," said Hans quickly.
"Then undress . . . right. . . now. Everything off," Adam repeated in his stage voice. Slowly, Hans unbuttoned his shirt.
When all of Hans' clothes were on the ground, including his socks and underwear, Adam wheeled the bike over to him.
"You'd best be getting home," he said.
Speechless, Hans climbed onto his bike, and pedalled away cursing. When he was out of sight the three guys pulled the handkerchiefs off their faces, howling with laughter.
"That was great, Adam," said one of his buddies, breathless from laughing.
Adam piled up the clothes on the ground and knotted the sleeves of the sweater tightly around the bundle, then stood up, grinning at his friends. "Maybe Hans will pull his head in for a while. We sho
uld get out of here before he sends the police to find the masked bandits. And I need to find a pen and a piece of paper."
"Why?"
"We're gonna write a note explaining what the licking was for, attach it to this bundle, throw it over his front gate. Hopefully his parents will find it."
CHAPTER EIGHTY-FOUR
1948
With their biggest problems solved, and nothing new to tackle, Adam became restless. He'd already left the brush factory and found a new job at a shoe factory, but the boredom there had become intolerable too. Despite his mother's protests, one day in early spring a year after his trip into the Russian zone to rescue Theresa, Adam quit his job, confident he'd find something better.
Fortunately for Adam, his father had been thinking about his son's prospects for a while. He needed a real job. Not nailing heels onto boots. Adam needed a trade. Based on the destruction all over Germany, Adam's dad surmised that bricklaying was a trade that would feed a family well for many years, and had quietly broached his idea with the boss of the construction company he was working for, describing his eldest son's capabilities. Before long, Adam was apprenticing as a bricklayer.
He took to the new work with his usual energy and enthusiasm, and progressed quickly, perfecting the basics of working with the mud, lining up the bricks, and making flawless joins. The work was interesting because each job was a little different.
A couple of months into his apprenticeship, an incident occurred that would start a new era in the post-war economics of the Baumann family. Assigned to patch bullet holes in the American barracks, Adam stumbled upon a soldier who'd been away from home for some time. The young man, lonely for his wife, had decided to stay in his bunk that morning with a girlie magazine for company. Thinking the barracks empty for the day, Adam went over to investigate the noise coming from one of the bunks. Realizing what he was seeing, he beat a hasty retreat but the red-faced young soldier followed him, beseeching Adam with gestures not to tell anyone. Over the next couple of weeks, the soldier plied Adam with goods he'd stolen from the base, holding his finger to his lips in a shushing motion each time they met.