From Dust and Ashes: A Story of Liberation

by Tricia Goyer

  I had been holding off telling you, but if you’re coming home anytime soon, I might as well. I’d hate for you to be shocked by what you discover when you get here. Three guys from your class have been killed. David C., Billy, and Allen. Also gone is the entire eleven-man starting lineup of the 1940–41 Montana State College football team. Remember when we used to go to their games? I just can’t imagine a whole starting lineup gone.

  I hate to end this letter on such a sad note, but it’s time to sign off. I have to be at work in an hour. Please write and let me know if you’ll be one of the lucky ones coming home soon.

  Love,

  Annie

  P.S. As you requested, I sent a package to the woman you mentioned. It should be there soon. I could tell by your note that your interest lies in more than just her health and welfare. Don’t be shocked, big brother. A sister can always tell. Please let me know if I might expect to be an aunt soon. And send photos too!

  Peter dropped the letter onto the bed. An aunt? Wherever did Annie get that idea? Unless … unless she thought it was Helene who had caught his fancy, not Michaela.

  Peter scratched his head. What had he written in that letter?

  The day passed slowly for Helene. Even after a stroll around the compound, lunch, and naps, it seemed forever until dinner. By the time they made their way to the chow hall, Anika was a bundle of energy. Petar weighed heavy in Helene’s arms.

  Entering this time, Helene felt more confident. She again noticed many eyes on her. But as before, the men soon resumed their eating, their conversation accented with the chinks of metal forks hitting metal plates.

  Helene searched for Peter’s face, his shoulders, his hair, but he wasn’t there. She sat Anika down at an empty table and gave her the baby to hold. Then she filled up two trays and brought them back. She held the baby with one arm, and ate with the other hand while she watched the door. Did she feel so desperate for Peter’s company because he was all they had left? Michaela was gone, and so were Lelia and her father. Peter had become the only familiar face.

  Or was there more to her feelings than that?

  Helene chastised herself for thinking such things. But she had to admit her feelings toward Peter had changed, though she couldn’t pinpoint exactly when the transition had begun. When she’d first met him, she considered him nothing more than a kind American hero. After that, she enjoyed him for the wonderful person he was. His sense of duty. His tender heart.

  But he cared for Michaela. And Michaela was everything she wasn’t. Helene knew she shouldn’t become hopeful of what could never be. Besides, how could she be sure of her feelings? She had made wrong decisions before. Helene knew if she ever decided to become involved with a man again, she’d have to chose someone who loved God and could join her on her journey of faith.

  Helene was almost finished with their meal when Anika let out a happy squeal. Before Helene could stop her, the girl jumped from the table and ran toward a soldier standing in the doorway. It was Peter. He lifted Anika into his arms and waved. Helene waved back.

  All the reservations she had a moment before melted away.

  Peter sat beside her. “If I told you I’ve arranged for some friends to watch the kids tonight, would you be interested in taking a stroll through town?”

  Helene placed her fork and knife on her plate. Friedrich had escorted her through the streets of Linz many times before. She remembered the Nazi parties, the drinking, the cursing, and the blonde escorts that had hung on the arms of party members like trophies. The thought made her shudder.

  But this was different. Peter was different. Oh, Lord, help me to know.

  Then again, what could be wrong with a simple stroll?

  “Should I change?” As soon as she said it, Helene chastened herself. She had brought only three dresses with her. One she wore, one was filthy from traveling, and the other would need to stay clean for tomorrow’s meeting.

  He smiled. “You’re perfect just the way you are. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

  Helene felt heat rise to her cheeks.

  Peter walked her and the children to his house, where they dropped off the children with a few buddies of his. After promising to be back before Petar’s next feeding, the two headed toward the center of the old city.

  “See that building with the dome?” Helene said, pointing. “It’s the Palais Kaufmännischer Verein, where congresses, fairs, and balls are held.”

  “Of course.” Peter dug his hands into his trouser pockets. “I should have known you’ve been here before.”

  Helene twisted a blonde curl around her finger. “Many times. I was dragged to Nazi parties and forced to mingle with people I had no desire to know. I had to act interested in their families, their landholdings, and their travels. I’m sure many thought less of me because I was a simple peasant from St. Georgen.”

  Peter seemed intrigued. “Perhaps you should be giving me the tour.”

  “I’m sure you’ve seen everything before. But there is something I’d like to show you. It’s my favorite.” Helene led him onto a side street, down an alley, and into an open courtyard. “This is Linz’s main city square, Hauptplatz. Those pastel-colored buildings are from the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. And see that large pillar? It’s beautiful close up.”

  They quickened their steps and soon reached it. It stood taller than the surrounding buildings. A gold sun and cross graced the top.

  Peter tipped his head back. “It’s massive.”

  “That’s the Dreifaltigkeitssäule, or Trinity Pillar. It was built in 1723. The people of the town built it in gratitude for salvation from war, plague, and fire. It had been a bad few years.”

  “Kind of a gaudy thing, don’t you think?”

  “I think it’s a beautiful symbol.”

  Peter looked at her, rubbing his neck. “Well, I’m so happy the war in Europe’s over I could build a pillar too.”

  “Oh? And what type of pillar would you create?”

  “It would be a statue of a beautiful woman. The saint of Camp Gusen.”

  Helene stared at the white marble. “Michaela would be honored.”

  Peter touched the base of the pillar, his fingers tracing the delicate design. “I was talking about you.”

  Helene took a step back, nearly bumping into someone passing by. “Me? A saint? Far from it.” She shook her head and began walking again. “Truly, Peter, you shouldn’t tease.”

  He caught up to her and matched her pace. “You don’t think the army would let you stay here if they didn’t think your help was special, do you? Saving the lives of many people is nothing to be humble about.”

  Helene stopped. “But I was weak. My help came too late for many.”

  A group of soldiers passed by, casting her appreciative glances. Helene lowered her voice. “Besides, it was I who received so much. My whole life is different because of Michaela.”

  They resumed walking, their arms touching every now and again. In their closeness Helene caught a whiff of Peter’s cologne. It reminded her of pine trees after the rain.

  “You got my letter, didn’t you?” she finally asked. “And what I wrote about my newfound faith?”

  “Yes.” Peter dug his hands into his pockets again. “And I’m happy for you.”

  They strolled past the Old Cathedral. Music poured from its doors.

  “Do you believe in God, Peter?”

  His brow furrowed. “I did before the war. I guess I do now too. It’s just so confusing. Too many questions. Like, why am I still here and so many others aren’t? Why does my best friend still fight for his life in a German hospital? Why do people like Michaela end up in death camps?”

  “I wish there were easy answers.”

  They meandered down a narrow street that was a strange mix of bombed buildings and unscathed ones. Their footsteps echoed on the cobblestone. The street ended at a park. Lamps had been lit along its borders, and crickets could be heard from the river beyond. Up on the hills
ide a castle hovered over the town like a hen over her chicks. It reminded her of the castles near Friedrich’s childhood home.

  “We should get back,” she said finally. “I’m sure my children are tired, and I’d hate for your friends to have to deal with that.”

  Peter chuckled. “Oh, they’d love that.” They headed toward the army base. When they were nearly there, Peter stopped. “I almost forgot.” He pulled a folded piece of fabric from his shirt pocket. Unwrapping it, he took out a delicate silver watch and held it out to Helene. “For you.”

  She was enchanted by the intricate band and tiny face. “It’s beautiful.”

  “My orders,” he said with a grin.

  “Oh, but I never expected—” She took it from him and attempted to place it on her wrist. The clasp slipped from her fingers.

  “Here, let me help.” Peter took the watch. Helene held up her arm, and he carefully fastened the clasp. Then he gently took her hand and held it up. “Just how I imagined it.”

  Helene pulled her hand from his grasp, and they continued on to his house, where her children awaited their return.

  After talking with his friends for a few minutes, Peter followed Helene and her children to the door. “Are you sure I can’t escort you back?”

  Helene kissed the top of Petar’s sleepy head. “I can see my building from here. There’s no need.”

  Peter gave her a tender smile. “Thank you for the tour. See you in the morning?”

  “In the morning.”

  Helene glided across the compound, the cool night air caressing her skin. Anika hummed a tune that Helene identified as American jazz.

  A few scraggly trees lined the sidewalks, reminding her of the oaks back home in her father’s yard. As she passed one, a stirring in the leaves caused her to look up. She thought she saw legs dangling from a branch. Before she could run or cry out, the figure jerked, hurling something at her.

  Helene bent to protect Petar, and a hard object struck the side of her face. She stumbled, almost losing her grip on the baby. Pain stung her face.

  Suddenly a jagged rock crashed into the sidewalk in front of Anika’s feet. “Mutti!” she screamed, tugging on Helene’s arm.

  Petar wailed.

  “Mutti, carry me!”

  “No, Anika, run!” Helene darted toward her housing unit, her vision blurred. Something else struck the sidewalk behind them.

  Anika’s screams intensified as Helene dragged her along. “Mutti, my arm!” Helene noticed blood on her daughter’s sleeve. She grabbed the girl’s hand, clutching Petar even tighter, and ran.

  When they finally reached the building, Helene released Anika’s hand and grasped the doorknob. It was locked. She pounded against the metal door. Her knuckles stung from the impact. “Let us in!” She looked back over her shoulder, expecting to see her attacker right behind her. Instead he dashed across the lawn away from her.

  The door opened. Helene pushed past a soldier, her body trembling under heavy sobs. She scrambled to her room, hearing shouts but couldn’t understand the words. She released Anika’s hand and opened the door to her room.

  As Helene laid little Petar on the cot, she noticed blood on his shoulder. She gasped and searched for the wound. Not finding anything, she touched the side of her head. Blood soaked her fingers. Anika screamed.

  The soldier who’d let them into the building appeared in the doorway. “Are you all right?”

  She begged him to get a doctor, then pulled Anika to her and collapsed on the cot next to Petar. Within minutes a medic with a white armband came in. He checked the cut on her head, cleaned it, and placed a cloth over the wound. Then he took her hand and placed it over the cloth. Although she couldn’t understand his words, she knew he was telling her to keep pressure on it.

  Just as the medic left, Peter burst through the door, his eyes wild. “Are you okay?” He knelt beside her cot. “This is my fault. I should have walked you back.”

  The baby had fallen into a fitful sleep on the cot. Anika stood beside the cot, her breath coming in gulps. “Somebody threw stuff at us.”

  Peter held out his hand. In it was a broken piece of brick. “We found this outside. Someone knows you’re here. I’d just like to know how he got onto the base.”

  Helene stared at the brick. On it tiny words were written in white. Her name, Friedrich’s, Anika’s, Petar’s, and her father’s. On the other side it read, Open your mouth and you will lose them.

  Helene didn’t understand. Friedrich was already dead. Her father was still in the Russian zone. “Why would anyone do this?” Helene sobbed. “Is it because my husband was a Nazi? Because my children are the babies of a Nazi?”

  A haughty face popped in her mind. Arno. The one person who knew where she was. The only man who was with Friedrich at his death. She opened her mouth to tell Peter of her suspicions, when he cut in.

  “We have to relocate you,” Peter said.

  “What should I do?” She rubbed Anika’s back, trying to calm her daughter and herself.

  “Nothing tonight. I’ll talk to Captain Standart first thing in the morning. In the meantime, I’ll make sure guards are stationed by your door and window.”

  “Thank you.” Helene’s head throbbed and her eyelids felt heavy. She thought again about telling Peter about Arno, but decided it could wait until morning. It would be too much to try to explain with her head aching so.

  Peter crossed to the door. Helene couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was, couldn’t help but realize how much she needed him.

  “You’re a strong woman, Helene. I’m proud of you.” Then he left without another word.

  Helene succumbed to the urge to sleep. When Petar awoke during the night, she could hardly stay awake. As he nursed, she touched the bandage on her forehead.

  Why is this happening, Lord? Since confessing her faith in Him, it seemed her life had become even more difficult than before. Wasn’t everything supposed to turn out all right for God’s children?

  But even as Helene thought that, she knew it wasn’t true. Michaela was a strong believer, and look at the hardships she had faced.

  And perhaps was still facing.

  Michaela tied the red scarf around her hair. “Thank you, Marek. It’s perfect.”

  “I thought it would protect your head from the hot sun.” He picked up his walking stick. “Are you sure you’re up to this?”

  She glanced down at her sturdy shoes and examined the trail before them. “Tak jest, of course. I used to hike this in ten minutes.”

  Marek frowned. “You are not as healthy as you were then. Besides, I wasn’t talking about the walk. Are you ready in your heart?”

  Michaela pressed her fingers to her temples. Many times she had imagined the day she’d visit Georg’s final resting place. Over the years she’d composed various eulogies, things she would like to say, emotions she’d share. Now the time had come. “I’m ready,” she said solemnly, taking the lead.

  They had only been on the woodsy trail a few minutes when Marek grabbed her arm. She’d been so taken by the dark green branches shading their journey and the numerous birds chattering among the trees, she hadn’t noticed a man approaching. She recognized him immediately, though he was older and sadder than the last time she’d seen him.

  “Filip,” she called. It was Jacek and Lidia’s neighbor who had been so nice to her and Lelia long ago. She started to wave, but Marek caught her arm.

  “No, Michaela, you will regret it. Let’s leave.”

  “What are you talking about? It’s Filip.” Her smile faded as she noticed the scowl on Marek’s face. “What’s wrong?”

  “Don’t you know?” He released her arm. “He is the one who reported your family, turned in you and Lelia.”

  Michaela felt the strength drain from her limbs. “No.” She glanced back to where Filip had been standing, but he was no longer there. Confusion and anger surged inside her.

  Marek took her hand. “Come. We will do this anothe
r day.”

  Michaela followed, but now a new conversation played in her head. The peaceful thoughts of the moment before were replaced with seething words. Anger she hadn’t experienced since the camps pumped through her. The next time she saw that man, she’d be prepared. She’d let him know exactly how she felt about his betrayal.

  Michaela ripped the scarf from her head, trudging back the way she’d come.

  Thirty-One

  AUGUST 4, 1945

  You’ll be moving to a town called Gmunden,” Peter told Helene the next day, lightly touching the bandage on her face.

  The name sounded familiar. “Isn’t that by Lake Traun?”

  “Yes. An American headquarters has been established there. It’s a nice place.” He grasped her hand. “We’re taking you there tonight. The army was foolish to think they’d suppressed all Nazi supporters. You and I should never have walked so openly in town.”

  “I should have known better,” Helene admitted.

  “I’ll be back for you tonight. Until then, there are many arrangements to make.” He gave her hand a quick squeeze.

  “Don’t worry. I won’t go anywhere.”

  “Come in, Sergeant,” Captain Standart called from behind his desk.

  Peter entered the dimly lit room. “Captain.” He saluted.

  “At ease.” Captain Standart pointed to the chair, and Peter sat. “I heard about the incident last night. We should have known there’d be some who wouldn’t want that young lady to open her mouth.” He leaned forward. “What do you propose we do? Gmunden will work for a while, but we need a more permanent solution.”

  Peter cleared his throat. “I think the only way she’ll really be safe is to leave the country altogether. Perhaps, after Helene’s given us the information we need, she could be moved to France or Great Britain.”