by Liz Tolsma
“Do you know what got me through those long, awful days?”
A smile rose to her lips. “I think it was the same thing that kept me going.”
“Each day, I listened for your song. When I heard it, I knew you were alive and well. I could close my eyes and pretend I was with you instead of inside that prison.”
She snuggled against him as they plodded home. “Was it as horrible as I imagine?”
The donkey clip-clopped for a long while. The quiet almost suffocated her. Teodor cleared his throat. “It was bad, and I will never say anything else about it. We have all suffered. But that is in the past. Look at what we have in front of us. Many happy years, Lord willing.”
She wouldn’t force him to speak about his experiences. If it was better for him to forget, then he should lock those memories away where they wouldn’t haunt him.
“Sing to me, moje slońce. Right now, I need to hear your voice.”
She sang to him through that long night, until pink painted the bottom of the clouds.
Until the rattles and squeaks of another line of tanks drowned out her voice.
Only when the soldier had driven for about half an hour did Elfriede relax against the back of seat. By now she must have enough space between her and Erich. He wouldn’t think to search this far away, believing her too stupid to be able to escape such a distance.
But what lay ahead? What should be her next step? I don’t know, Lord. Please show me. “Where are you headed?”
The man, Otto, didn’t break his concentration from the convoy of vehicles in front of him. “Just a short ways. The Russians are mounting an offensive. We’re pulling back to regroup and make a stand. We won’t allow them on German soil.”
“Is there a train station?”
Otto slipped a cigarette from his shirt pocket and, with one hand on the steering wheel, lit it and puffed. “I imagine so. It makes sense to take us where we can get supplies. Though the Soviets are bombing the rail lines.”
“Bombing? Then it isn’t safe for me to travel by train.”
“There’s no way to travel that guarantees you’re going to get where you’re going.”
“Then how am I supposed to return home?”
Otto shrugged. “You might be best taking your chances on the train.”
Nein, that had been a silly thought. The conductors demanded payment and papers, neither of which she had. There had to be another way.
They continued their journey, and Elfriede dozed from time to time. Her hair had escaped from its rolls and pins, and with no comb or brush, she let the last of it down.
Her stomach roiled in her midsection, a wave of nausea crashing over her. “Pull over.”
“I can’t.”
She heaved, fighting back the vomit.
Otto whipped to the side of the road and came to a screeching halt. She flung the door open and threw up right beside the car. Twice more she heaved, until her stomach emptied itself. The nausea didn’t pass, but she had nothing left to expel. She reached behind her. “Do you have a handkerchief?”
He slapped a rough piece of cloth on her open palm, and she wiped her face. “Danke.”
“Are you okay?” His question didn’t harbor a tone of care and concern, only irritation.
“I’m fine.” No point in telling him otherwise. If she did, he might toss her out and leave her to fend for herself.
She clutched her stomach as they drove onward. How much longer could she hold on before she would have to make him stop again?
Behind them came a low, dull rumble that grew in strength and volume every second.
“Stop the car.”
Instead Otto pressed on the accelerator, and they jolted forward.
“Stop! I’m going to be sick.”
“Do you hear those Russian planes?”
The bile rose higher in her throat. “How do you know?”
“After all this time, I know the difference between German engines and Russian ones.”
“They must be going to Berlin.” Elfriede fought back the rising of her stomach.
“Too low. They probably have us in their sights. They must have seen the headlights.”
She couldn’t hold back the nausea any longer. Fearing messing up the inside of the auto, she cranked down the window, leaned over, and vomited.
The ack-ack of gunfire broke the stillness. Her heart raced, matching the rhythm of the shooting.
The car swerved. Otto pulled her inside. “Get down! Get down!”
Ahead of them, the earth exploded, showering dirt and rocks on the vehicle. She couldn’t breathe.
As Otto tugged on her left hand, her right elbow hit the door handle. The door swung open. Another earth-rocking boom splayed dirt everywhere. He released his grip on her wrist. Once more, he jerked the wheel.
She worked to grasp something. Anything. But nothing presented itself.
She tumbled from the vehicle and rolled to the side of the road.
A whistle, louder than anything she’d ever heard, screeched above them. She covered her ears, then her head.
For a moment, there was silence. All the air rushed from her lungs.
Kaboom. Kaboom. Kaboom. Explosion followed explosion. Her ears rang. Hot air flowed over her, carrying with it the odor of fuel and burning rubber.
Elfriede heaved again. Nothing came out, but she couldn’t control the vomiting.
When the buzzing in her head calmed, the screams of men replaced it. Shrieks of bombs and of dying soldiers. She couldn’t discern which was which.
As suddenly as they had arrived, the Russian planes left. Shaking from head to toe, Elfriede didn’t dare leave the safety of the ditch. She concentrated on inhaling deep, regular breaths and keeping her stomach from rebelling.
An eternity might have passed, or maybe only a few minutes. Time didn’t matter. At last, though, she climbed from the ditch.
Nothing remained of the convoy. Russian bombs had wiped out every truck and every car. Only smoldering hulls remained. And charred bodies.
She turned away from the horrific sight and, as she gagged, she covered her mouth and fell to her knees. Sobs wracked her.
What was she going to do? The attack had obliterated her only means of transportation. Where was she? There was nothing to give her a clue. Unless it was a large arrow pointing toward Berlin, it probably mattered very little.
“Oh God, help me! Are you there? Are you listening?”
Only the bitter, biting wind whipping through the bare trees gave her any answer.
What was she going to do? She had to come up with a plan, but the horror, the illness, the cold robbed her reasoning skills.
She paced in small circles to stay warm. Maybe she should start walking. But where would she go? How would she survive?
Dawn painted the sky pink and yellow. Time left her with only one option. She pulled her coat tighter and marched in the direction the vehicles had been traveling. The brisk movement kept her warm, and the upset in her stomach subsided.
From behind her came the ticking of an engine, and she turned to find a car speeding in her direction. She moved to the side of the road to avoid being run over.
But the auto slowed and stopped beside her. Though it bore no official marks, it must belong to a German. The average Polish citizen didn’t have access to petrol. Right? Still, her hands dampened with sweat.
“Dzień dobry.” Though the fair-haired man at the wheel spoke to her in Polish, there was no denying his German accent.
She blew out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. “Guten tag.”
A smile crossed his face, and a dimple deepened in his right cheek. “Ah, you are German.”
She trembled. Maybe it wasn’t a good thing this man was a fellow countryman. She was a hunted woman. Breaking her gaze with him, she marched away.
He inched the car forward to keep pace with her. “I’m Bernard Wimmer. And you are . . .?”
There was no way she could
outrun a car. Her only chance lay in continuing her earlier charade. “Frau Eisinger. My husband sent me out with the convoy back there. I . . . I think I’m the only one who survived.” The lump in her throat was not part of the act.
“You were in one of those vehicles?”
She nodded.
He opened the door and motioned for her to get in. She glanced over her shoulder. Nein, Erich didn’t follow her. At this point she had nothing to lose. She wasn’t going to survive without help. After flashing Bernard a small smile, she slid into the seat beside him.
She rubbed her hands together. “Danke.”
“How long have you been out there?”
“Most of the night. The Russians bombed us, and the convoy exploded. I managed to escape the car just before it burst into flames.”
“God was watching out for you.”
She turned her attention to him. His Aryan profile was strong, yet his mouth and green eyes held softness. How different he was from her husband. She twisted the wedding band on her finger. “Ja, he was. I don’t know how I’m alive when everyone else is . . .”
“Where are you headed?”
“Home.”
He tipped his head and gave a three-note chuckle. “That much, I figured. We’re all going there. Where is that for you?”
Could she trust him? She had no real reason to, but there was something about him, something she couldn’t identify or articulate, but his words about God watching out for her relaxed her. They might be a ruse, but her gut told her they weren’t. “Bremen. Any assistance you could give me would be much appreciated. I have nothing left.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you get on the first train we find headed west.”
She bolted up straight in the seat. “Isn’t that dangerous? Otto, the young man who was giving me a ride, said the Russians were bombing them.”
Bernard frowned. “There is no safe travel these days. This is war. There are always risks. I’ll do my best, but the rest we’ll leave up to the Lord.”
She nodded. Here was another person God put in her path to help her and to draw her closer to him.
“I’ll do everything I can to return you to your home so your husband can locate you when he gets out.”
“My husband . . .” Elfriede stared out the window as the Polish countryside flashed by. She would miss this place and these people. Already an ache filled her heart. Where were Teodor and Natia? What about Dominik? She stifled a sob. Were they safe?
“What’s wrong?”
She startled, almost having forgotten about the man at the steering wheel. “Nothing.” How did she tell him that she wished her husband would be captured, that he deserved whatever punishment the Soviets meted out to him?
“I’m sure this is hard on you. Do you have any other family?”
“I was an only child, and my mother passed away some years ago. And my vater, I don’t know what will become of him. If he’s still alive, I’m sure the Americans or Russians will detain him.”
“Any children?”
That loss cut more than anything. She loved Dominik, even if he was Jewish. If only she could be part of his life. Maybe Natia would tell him stories about her. Perhaps he would grow up knowing that he had one woman who gave him birth, another who raised him, and a third who loved him from afar.
Elfriede wiped away the tear that trickled down her cheek.
Bernard cleared his throat. “Are you okay?”
“Missing those I love.”
“You’ll be home soon.”
Ja, home alone, because she would never live with her husband again. If their house still stood and Erich never returned, perhaps she would sell it. They had planned to fill it with children.
But she would buy a place with two bedrooms. One for her and one for Dominik, should he ever decide to visit.
Teodor sat in the back of the cart as the line of tanks approached, the ground rumbling underneath their engines. Natia kept driving. Between the weakness and the fatigue, they would have never made it to the ditch. Besides, men in tanks weren’t on the prowl for a couple of labor-camp escapees. They had put too many miles between themselves and Fromm. If he was going to find them, he would have done so by now.
At least, that’s what Teodor counted on.
Dominik, his thumb in his mouth, climbed onto Teodor’s lap and stared at the tanks. Teodor couldn’t stop the grin that broke out on his lips. Oh, how nice to have a little one so close. The boy bounced, pointed, and clapped.
“Those are tanks.” They could have fun together, the two of them. He could teach Dominik about farming and animals and fishing. All the things a boy needed to know. No wonder Natia had become attached to him. He was an easy child to love. Teodor had already fallen for him.
The first in the column approached and then squeaked by. More and more came, the sound of them roaring in their ears. Teodor caught himself holding his breath. Were they fleeing the Soviets or preparing for a battle? He and Natia didn’t want to drive straight into a firefight. They might have to find another route home.
As each tank passed, Teodor studied them. While they resembled those from the beginning of the war, the ones that had rolled down the narrow lane through their quiet village, they had different markings. One sported a red star. Another had something written on the turret in Cyrillic.
Cyrillic. “Natia, we’ve done it. These are Soviets. We’re out of German-held territory.”
She turned to him, her green eyes large. “We are?” The words came out as a sigh.
“Do you know what this means?”
She shook her head, her dark curls bobbing.
“We’re free, moje slońce. Free. No more Germans.” He refused to spoil this moment with his fears about what Soviet occupation might be like. “The war is over.”
“It’s over?” She chuckled and then released a full belly laugh before dropping the donkey’s reins and climbing into the back with them. She kissed him on the mouth, hard, full of passion and desire.
Teodor groaned. As soon as they got home, he would show her how much he loved her and how much he’d missed her.
When she broke away and he regained his breath, he tossed Dominik into the air, catching the giggling boy and pecking him on the cheek. “Your life is no longer in danger, little one. You can live without fear.”
Dominik wriggled from his grasp and toddled to the cart’s edge. “Look, look.”
Natia patted the boy’s head. “Tak, my dear, that’s your freedom.”
“Mama.”
How beautiful to hear a child call his wife mother. He was an adorable boy with dark hair curling over his ears, long lashes framing his dark eyes.
Teodor’s breath stuttered. If Natia was Mama, that made him Tata. For so long he’d prayed for a son. Now he had one, one who would come to know him and love him. “We’ll wait here for a while. The Germans we saw last night must have been fleeing from this group. Who knows where they will engage. If we don’t hear fighting from the town after a time, we can go there.”
The donkey brayed and pawed the ground as Natia settled beside Teodor and snuggled against him. “I can hardly believe it. After all these years, those Nazis are gone. We’ll get our farm back, our lives back. And it will be better than ever.”
He couldn’t crush his wife’s optimism, wouldn’t do that for the world. But life wouldn’t be the same. The Soviets were here now, and deep in the pit of his stomach, something told him they weren’t leaving soon. What would that mean for them and their little farm?
There was also the matter of the Volksdeutsche paper he had signed. If anyone in the town discovered that piece of information, life might become very difficult.
He shook his head. No point in worrying about something that might or might not happen. For the moment he had everything he needed. If he and Natia, and now Dominik, were together, that was all that mattered. God would take care of the rest.
Right now, he would enjoy this moment with his
family and treasure it forever.
A sea of people surrounded Elfriede in the Berlin train station. Not just a sea of them, but a rolling, swirling tide. Some were women bustling to their jobs in other parts of the city. A normal day, except the Third Reich was crumbling. Others were soldiers on their way to the front, nothing more than boys barely old enough to shave or men stooped with age. And still others were warriors returning from the fighting, broken in both body and spirit.
The usual train ride of a few hours had taken several days. Bombed-out locomotives and cars littered the tracks. Unexpected stops stalled them for hours, and unreliable train schedules frustrated her progress.
Here she stood, the warmth of the station and the press of humanity sending surges of nausea through her gut. She pressed her hand to her belly and fought it off. This illness was strange. The upset stomach only plagued her in the morning. If she had food in her, no small feat these days, she was fine.
Sickness in the morning? She allowed herself to consider the possibility. About six weeks had passed since her last cycle. And she and Erich had been together.
She trembled from head to toe. Could it be? Could it really be? No other explanation made sense. She touched the place below her stomach, a place where a most wondrous miracle was happening. After so much time, she was pregnant. No doctor needed to confirm it. She knew it as sure as she knew her name.
And now, Erich could never find them. Even if it meant she had to flee Germany, she would protect her child from his father at all costs.
She wouldn’t be alone in the world. A cascade of tears chased away all her sorrow, all the hurt and pain she’d endured. There, in the middle of the Berlin station, she hugged herself and cried with joy.
“Don’t worry, my little one. I’ll find a safe place for us. I promise.”
All she needed to do now was figure out which train to board. One away from the Russians, one away from Erich, one away from Vater. She would break free from them all. With no other family, she’d make a life for herself and her child. The money Bernard had given her out of the goodness of his heart would have to be enough.