Two Brothers

by Ben Elton

  ‘Everybody needs Mum,’ Paulus went on, ‘so of course Mum tries to get to everybody. You know her. She’ll try and mend every broken head in Berlin.’

  ‘Why aren’t you out with her?’ Otto demanded angrily. ‘She’s alone, you should be protecting her.’

  ‘What sort of protection do you think I’d be? None. In fact, worse than none. Much worse,’ Paulus replied. ‘They’re targeting young Jewish men, that’s plain, they’re literally pulling in any they find and throwing them into trucks. We’ve heard of twenty at least taken in this neighbourhood. They’ve come knocking here twice but I lay low and the neighbour said I was out.

  ‘I still say you should have gone with Mum.’

  ‘Ottsy. It would have put her in more danger.’

  ‘All the same—’

  ‘All the same nothing!’ Paulus snapped. ‘Ottsy! I thought maybe you’d grown up! You’ve obviously just grown muscles. There’s no glory in being a dead hero. You have to think. We need to think now. We need to decide what to do about Dagmar. I’m presuming she can’t go back to her house tonight?’

  ‘Or ever,’ Dagmar said without looking up.

  In answer to his questioning glance, Otto explained what had happened that evening. Struggling in vain to find a way to mitigate the shocking and terrible news.

  When he had finished Paulus did not know what to say. He opened his mouth but no sound came.

  ‘Don’t worry about my mum, Pauly,’ Dagmar said, her voice still seeming to come from inside a grave. ‘It’s as bad for living Jews in this city as it is for the dead ones. Besides, it’s just a matter of time for all of us anyway, isn’t it?’

  This was a subject on which Paulus could find words.

  ‘No, Dagmar,’ he said, ‘that’s not true. There’ll be better times, I swear it, just you wait.’

  It was Otto who replied to this.

  ‘Wait? Wait?’ he snarled. ‘All we ever do is wait and what good has it done us? We need to do something.’

  ‘Same old Otto eh?’ Paulus said. ‘What are you going to do? Mug another SA man? Somehow I think we’re a bit beyond that.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Pauly,’ Otto replied fiercely. ‘I’ve got a better plan than beating one of them up.’

  ‘Oh yeah? And what is it?’

  Otto had been sitting on his father’s old piano stool but now he stood up and stared for a moment at Paulus.

  ‘I’m going to kill Himmler,’ he said.

  ‘Kill Himmler?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Otto,’ Paulus said aghast, ‘it was killing one of them that started tonight’s pogrom.’

  ‘You think so?’ Otto replied with a sneer. ‘I don’t. They were just waiting for an excuse, they’d have easily found another.’

  ‘Yeah, OK but—’

  ‘But nothing! It’s time we started to fight back, Pauly. I can’t see any other way of this ending. I’ve been thinking about it a lot. I’m going to finish school next month and guess what? They’re going to have a passing-out ceremony and it’s a big one too because we’re the first graduation class. Himmler is going to be there.’

  ‘Himmler himself?’

  ‘That’s right. Black Heinrich, head of the SS. The whole school’s basically an SS project and he’s going to give a speech. I reckon if I get hold of a gun from the armoury and sneak it into the passing-out parade I can nail the bastard. Do you hear me? I could kill Himmler!’

  ‘Otto!’ Paulus snapped. ‘What are you talking about? You can’t do that!’

  ‘Give me one good reason why not.’

  ‘I’ll give you the best reason there is – Dagmar.’

  ‘Dagmar?’

  They both looked down at the girl they loved. She was sitting on the floor, leaning against the couch. Seemingly lost in her own thoughts.

  ‘Of course Dagmar,’ Paulus hissed. ‘Even if you did manage to do what you want to do – which you wouldn’t by the way – you’d get caught for sure and then what would happen to her?’

  Otto nodded slowly and sank back down on to the piano stool.

  ‘Oh,’ he said. ‘I suppose that’s true.’

  ‘Of course it is. You’re her one chance, Otts. Her very best shot at making it. It’s the same situation as it was two years ago when you started taking her out to the Olympics and stuff. You’re a German. A Napola boy no less. You’re going to go into the army. If things keep getting worse and she has to hide, you’ll be better placed to hide her than any Jew ever could. You’re a German, Otts, you have papers, you can do things. Buy things. Travel. Dag needs you. You can’t save all the Jews, but you can maybe save the one that matters most to us.’

  Otto looked once more at Dagmar. She was staring into her drink. He wasn’t even sure if she was listening.

  ‘Yes,’ he said contritely. ‘Of course. You’re right. I didn’t think of it like that.’

  ‘Well think about it now,’ Paulus urged. ‘You might have to get her false papers, Otts, a new identity, God knows what. You’ll need to keep a clean, a very clean slate while you’re in the army and study hard—’

  ‘Study?’

  ‘Yes, so you can try and get an office desk, which will be safer for you and you’ll have access to official stamps and passes and—’

  ‘Wow, Pauly,’ Otto said, taken aback. ‘You’ve got it all planned out.’

  ‘I have to, Ottsy. I have to have it planned,’ Paulus replied, and it almost sounded as if he was pleading with his brother. ‘I need to know that you’re ready. That you’re thinking straight. I was going to find a way of seeing you to discuss all this soon anyway. You see, I’m going, Otts. I’m leaving.’

  It turned out that Dagmar had been listening after all because at this she looked up.

  ‘You’re leaving?’ she said. ‘Oh, Pauly.’

  ‘Mum’s managed to get me a place in England, to live and to study. I have the visas I need.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Some time in the New Year. I want to graduate from school of course, but by the spring for sure.’

  Otto and Dagmar were both deeply shocked.

  ‘Is Mum going too?’ Otto asked.

  ‘You know she won’t leave her patients. She says we’re big boys now and don’t need her any more but every day a new baby is born who does.’

  Quite suddenly Dagmar began crying. She tried to stop herself but couldn’t.

  ‘You’re so lucky, Pauly,’ she sobbed. ‘They won’t give me or Mum a visa because of what Dad did. They’ve been watching us, warning us not to try to …’

  Her words trailed away and she sobbed more deeply. Clearly only remembering as the sentence ended that her mother was now dead.

  Paulus looked utterly wretched.

  ‘Oh, Dags,’ he said. ‘You know that if there was one single way I could help you by staying, I would. But I’m a Jew too. I can’t go anywhere. I can’t do anything. Every Jew is a liability. To themselves and to those who care about them. With me out of the way Ottsy can focus absolutely on you and you alone. That’s all that matters to me. You’re all that matters to either of us.’

  ‘He’s right, Dags,’ Otto said. ‘It makes sense.’

  Paulus turned once more to Otto. ‘It’s all down to you, Otts. And that’s why before I go I have to know. I absolutely have to have your solemn promise that you’ll look after Dagmar.’

  Otto bridled at once. His fists clenched.

  ‘Hey, Pauly!’ he said angrily. ‘I don’t have to promise. You know damn well I’d die for Dagmar.’

  And now Paulus too was angry.

  ‘Oh for God’s sake, Ottsy, are you really such a bloody moron?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Otto asked, squaring up to his brother as he had done so many times before. ‘Who’s a moron? You asked me if I’d look after Dags and I told you I’d die for her and I would!’

  ‘But I don’t want you to die for her. Anyone can bloody die for someone. It’s easy, just get yourself killed. I want you to
live for her. Keep yourself safe. Keep your stupid head down. Make sure everything you do, you do with Dagmar in mind. Don’t go trying to murder Himmler, and if there’s a war, which obviously there’s going to be, don’t get yourself killed. Because if you did then Dagmar would be all alone. Alone! Do you understand, you idiot? The last thing she needs you to do is die for her.’

  Otto was almost contrite.

  ‘Oh. Well, put like that,’ he said, ‘I see what you’re saying. You’re right. Absolutely right, of course. You always are.’

  ‘When I’m gone, Ottsy,’ Paulus said solemnly, ‘you have to pretend you’re me. OK? Every move you make, every decision you take, you have to ask yourself, “What would Pauly have done?” Be calm. Be calculating. Be careful. Stay alive and keep Dagmar alive.’

  ‘Right, absolutely. I get it … And once I’m in uniform,’ he said, brightening, ‘I can try and get her across the border and—’

  ‘Otto, you’re doing it again!’ Paulus said, his face red with frustration. ‘You have to think things through.’

  ‘Well what’s wrong with—’

  ‘Quite apart from the fact that a lot more people have been shot trying to rush the border than have made it, there’s no point. Dags doesn’t have an entry visa any more. She had one five years ago for the States but not now. The Yanks are pulling up the drawbridge. Everywhere is. Even if you got her across she’d be sent back.’

  ‘Oh,’ was all Otto could say in reply.

  ‘You have to protect her in Germany. And when the time comes, hide her in Germany, Otto. Do you understand?’

  ‘Yes,’ Otto said solemnly. ‘I understand.’

  Dagmar was looking at them both. A faraway expression in her eyes.

  ‘You should go, Otts,’ she said finally. ‘It’s nearly dawn. You have to get back to Spandau. They might accept you staying out all night but not all of the following day.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Otto said, ‘that’s right, I’ll have to hitch a lift … I’d better go.’

  Dagmar put down her mug and hugged him.

  ‘Thank you, Ottsy,’ she said quietly. ‘You saved my life tonight.’

  ‘That’s what I’m here for.’

  ‘It’s what we’re both here for,’ Paulus added. ‘We’ll get you through, Dag. I promise. It looks like you’ll be staying here for a while, too, until we can make a plan. You can have my room and I’ll go on the couch.’

  After Otto had gone, Dagmar and Paulus sat together in the darkened room for quite a long time without speaking.

  Eventually Dagmar broke the silence.

  ‘Pauly,’ she said. ‘Hold me.’

  Rain on the Beach

  Lake Wannsee, November 1938

  A FEW DAYS after the dreadful events of Kristallnacht, the Night of the Broken Glass, as the great November Pogrom had immediately come to be known, the Government announced that all Jewish children were to be expelled immediately from school. Paulus, who had been about to complete his final year, was dismissed that same day along with thousands of other bewildered pupils weeks before graduating. All denied the chance to take any examinations or gain any kind of certificate.

  ‘Don’t worry about the certificate,’ Frieda assured him. ‘They’ll know about the new law in England and you have enough fine school reports stored up for any college.’

  Dagmar came in from Otto and Paulus’s old bedroom, which she had been occupying since Kristallnacht.

  ‘Pauly,’ she said quietly, ‘since you’ll have a bit more time now and won’t need to be studying every minute, I should very much like you to take me swimming.’

  Paulus and Frieda exchanged a worried glance.

  During the previous week they had shared numerous whispered concerns about Dagmar’s fragile mental health. She had scarcely spoken since she’d arrived and had not once mentioned her mother’s death. The newspapers had reported that the fire had been electrical and that the widow of Herr Fischer had ‘regretfully’ been consumed in the flames. No mention was made of Dagmar, who had read the article without comment. She stayed mainly in bed or curled up on the couch clinging to the toy monkey Otto had saved for her, a deep fatalistic sadness enveloping her that Frieda and Paulus could find no way of penetrating.

  Frieda was familiar with the signs of emotional withdrawal. She knew very well how many deeply damaged people were sitting mutely like Dagmar in cold bare rooms all over Berlin, dealing with their terrible reality by retreating from it.

  ‘Dagmar, darling,’ Frieda said gently, ‘you and Pauly can’t go swimming, I’m afraid. I’m sure you recall that the authorities have forbidden it.’

  ‘Ottsy can take us,’ Dagmar replied. ‘It’s never a problem.’

  ‘Ottsy can take you, dear,’ Frieda said. ‘With Pauly it’s more than double the risk. They’re still targeting young men.’

  ‘But we could go to Wannsee,’ Dagmar insisted, her voice becoming firmer as she spoke. ‘To the lido. We’ll have the whole place to ourselves. They don’t have staff there off-season.’

  ‘Wouldn’t it be a bit chilly, Dags?’ Paulus asked with a smile.

  ‘Exactly. Freezing. So nobody will be there. For once we’ll be in the majority! We don’t need an exit visa or an entrance visa. We just get on the S-Bahn like we used to do. Pauly, I want to swim. I need to swim. But I want you to come too, Pauly. I want both my boys, like it used to be.’

  Frieda smiled. Dagmar had said more in five minutes than in the past five days.

  ‘Do you know, I think Dagmar’s right,’ Frieda said. ‘You both really do need to get out of this apartment. To get some exercise. And if Otto’s with you I really don’t think there’s much risk.’

  ‘OK!’ Paulus said, grinning himself now, thrilled to see any sign of enthusiasm in Dagmar. ‘Let’s do it.’

  ‘I’ll write a note then,’ Dagmar said, her eyes widening and her voice growing in confidence with each word. ‘I’m sure Ottsy can get a pass out. They’re all just waiting for graduation now. And he’s such a school pet these days, and of course they still think I’m his Aryan girl. It’ll be the three of us together again. A sort of farewell picnic. Farewell to you. Farewell to Mama. Farewell to everything really.’

  For a moment Paulus’s happy grin disappeared from his face. He looked closely at Dagmar, trying to gauge whether her plan was born of reviving spirits or was a symptom of a deepening despair.

  ‘How about we take Silke?’ he said. ‘Make it a proper Saturday Club outing.’

  ‘Ha, and share my boys with her?’ Dagmar replied, and for a moment her eyes seemed to twinkle and her old smile appeared on her face. ‘You know very well I’m far too mean to do anything so generous as that!’

  Pauly smiled back. She sounded like her old self.

  They met at Bahnhof Zoo.

  The shattered glass that had littered the streets for days had been cleaned up but the burnt-out buildings and windowless shops remained as testimony to the violence of the attacks. The Jews themselves had been forced to clean up the wreckage that had been made of their lives and it had been a slow task, made harder because, as the newspapers were happy to crow, thirty thousand young Jewish men had been abducted from their homes and sent to concentration camps over the two nights of the pogrom.

  What was not reported in the papers, but Frieda had ascertained through her medical contacts, was that ninety-one more had simply been beaten to death.

  Now, however, everything seemed calm. The Jews were back behind closed doors and the majority of the population were going about their business as if nothing had happened.

  Otto bought some nuts and apples for the journey and the three young people took the S-Bahn out to Wannsee. As they rode, the boys attempted to dispel the sadness that still radiated from their friend.

  ‘Do you remember the swimming gala,’ Otto said, ‘when we took the blame for you breaking the trophy?’

  ‘And I got four extra whacks because Otto was too bloody stupid to let me think up an excuse,’ Paulus
added. ‘Come to think of it, I still owe you for those.’

  ‘Any time, Pauly,’ Otto replied, flexing his muscles. ‘You’re most welcome to try.’

  The boys tried hard to be cheerful, and as the once-familiar stations passed by it seemed to have some effect. Dagmar almost smiled as they recalled the music lessons and the Saturday Club, and how angry Silke had been when Dagmar first turned up.

  ‘Poor Silke,’ Dagmar said. ‘I don’t blame her for being jealous. I know I’d have been if it had been her that you boys were chasing in the Märchenbrunnen. Do you remember how you used to trap me between Rapunzel and Little Red Riding Hood and try to steal kisses?’

  And so they talked and even laughed a little together, revisiting the happy country of their youth, as the rain lashed on the windows of the train.

  But then of course they ran out of happy memories.

  Or, at least, while there were still some, any recollections of laughter and friendship that had occurred after 1933 were so entwined with darker experiences, of pain, loss and humiliation, that the three of them felt their smiles vanish from their lips.

  ‘They took our youth, didn’t they?’ Dagmar said quietly. ‘They stole our youth.’

  There was thunder in the air and the rain came down in squalls as the venerable old train shuddered to a halt at Wannsee. As Dagmar had predicted, the three of them were the only passengers to disembark.

  ‘You’re braver than I am, kids,’ the ticket collector remarked as they made their way through the barrier of that much loved little station, where Berliners had been disembarking with such excitement and departing with such regret for fifty years.

  Paulus managed a smile in reply, his eyes flicking briefly to take in the first of numerous signs announcing that Jews were banned from the beach and its facilities.

  The wet, windswept steps down from the ticket office boasted none of the festive garb that the three trippers remembered from happier visits. It being late November there were no flowers in the station windowboxes. No balloon-seller or ice-cream stand. The little wooden pretzel wagon was boarded up and padlocked and there was no accordion player in Bavarian costume with his feathered hat filled with coins.