“Don’t apologize. I cannot imagine what you’re going through,” Emma said.
“You have no idea how much his visit means to me. I will cherish this one hour forever in my heart. Thanks to both of you for making it possible,” Hilde said, doing her best to swallow down the tears.
“I did have to pull a few strings, but it wasn’t that hard,” Annie mentioned and took the second chair at the table.
“Here. I brought you some of the things you mentioned.” Emma handed her a package.
Hilde took the package. She’d have a look at it later. Now, she had more pressing issues to discuss with the two women.
“Do you have what you need for the children? Are they safe?”
“The air raids have increased, but they are safe for now. As for what they need…they are growing so quickly. I will soon need a few coupons for shoes and clothing,” Emma admitted.
“Annie, unfortunately, this is upon you. With the birth certificate of the children, you can go to the authorities here in Berlin and ask for extra coupons. Then you send them via mail to Emma. And please send her money every month to buy whatever the boys may need.”
Annie just stared at her. “Hilde, you think life is easy, but there is no cash left. Your husband hasn’t been paid a salary since the day he was arrested, and according to his patent lawyer, royalties are paid once a year only.” She sighed and waved a hand. “I checked all your bank accounts; there never was much money. One would think you had been able to save more.”
Hilde started to grow angry with her mother. I’m the one rotting in prison, not you!
“Then sell a few things, Mother.” Hilde scowled. “I’m sure my fur coat would receive a good price.”
“Don’t be silly, dear. Who would want to buy a fur coat in April?” Annie answered with a roll of her eyes.
Emma had watched the silent fighting with wide eyes and now entered the discussion with a calm voice. “Maybe there’s something else from Hilde and Q’s estate that you could sell, Frau Klein? Silverware, china, or antiques?”
“I will see what is possible and send you money by the end of the week. If you give me a list of things needed, I will also run the errands to receive the extra ration cards. While I may not dedicate too much time to that cause because I have important social obligations to attend to, I will certainly do everything needed for my grandsons,” Annie said graciously.
“Thank you, Mother. And couldn’t you sublet the apartment in Nikolassee to someone? This way the boys would have a regular income.”
“It may be done, but it is a lot of work and hardship,” Annie protested, but quickly nodded when she noticed the stern glances of both Hilde and Emma.
“Time to go,” the guard called from the doorway.
Emma pulled a small packet from her purse. “I have some pictures for you of Volker, Peter, and the rest of the family.”
“Thank you two so much for taking care of my children.” Hilde took the pictures and bid her goodbyes to Emma and Annie before she hurried to the waiting guard, who’d been generous enough to allow Hilde an extra fifteen minutes to speak about organizational details with the two women while she cared for Volker.
Back in her cell, Hilde found Margit waiting to hear every last detail about her visit.
Hilde showed her the pictures Emma had given her. “Look, these are my two cuties. And these are my sisters…” She ran her fingers lovingly over her children’s faces and swallowed back a lump in her throat. Seeing her son had been bittersweet.
“What if I never see them again?” she asked Margit through her forming tears.
“You’ll be with them again soon,” Margit said and hugged her.
Hilde nodded. She wanted so badly to believe it would be true. She smiled at the pictures in her hand and knew she would think back on this one hour with her son every single day while she was here. It would keep her spirits up and help her to stay sane.
Then she opened the package Emma had given her. It contained her favorite pair of black shoes, shampoo, soap, food, a woolen cardigan, two books, and several torn stockings.
“Look, Margit! Finally, I have some comfortable shoes…and shampoo.” Hilde opened the bottle and sniffed. “It smells so good.”
Margit laughed. “Nothing beats real shampoo. I’m sick and tired of the curd soap they give us.”
They scrutinized the food and sat on the lower bunk bed to eat the fresh buns with butter.
“Hmm, real butter,” Margit licked her lips. “Today is a day to celebrate.”
“You know, we’re actually quite fine. We have enough to eat, something to read, and Emma even sent me work to do. Mending those stockings will keep me busy for days.”
“You actually think it’s nice of your stepmother to send those torn stockings?” Margit pouted.
“Mother Emma has such a hard life outside, and she works day and night. Caring for my father, her own teenage daughters, and now my sons. I feel bad that I can’t help more. And I can’t find any joy in living such an idle life. At least mending stockings will make me feel useful…and keep my hands and mind occupied.” Hilde leaned back and took a hearty bite of the fresh bun.
After eating in silence for a while, Hilde spoke again, “You can’t imagine how thankful I am that Mother Annie made the visit with Volker possible. For all her shortcomings, this one deed when it really counted has shown that she does love me.”
“Yes, that was nice of her to do.” Margit yawned and then asked, “While you’re busy mending stockings, can I borrow one of those books you received?”
“Yes, help yourself,” Hilde answered with a warm smile. It had been a very good day indeed.
Chapter 26
Q took his daily walk around the courtyard outside, grateful for the one hour of exercise in the sunshine. It was his only reminder of a world outside the prison walls – a faint memory of days spent walking and playing at the lake with his wife and his sons.
Spring had sneaked upon them, and with it, more executions. Just this morning, they had come for two more inmates. They always came in the morning, every day, save for the weekends. Even the executioners worked regular hours.
This awful procedure had become a normal part of daily prison life, and nobody seemed to waste another thought on the morbidity of the situation. Even the hangmen were part of the community and did their best to make a horrific situation more endurable.
It had taken Q a while to come to terms with their habit of walking over to the prisoners for a short chat. But after a while, he came to appreciate the break in routine and trained his brain to separate the “execution business” from his own fate.
“Good afternoon, Doctor Quedlin,” one of the hangmen greeted him. “Do you have a moment?”
“Certainly.” Q nodded. It wasn’t as if he had to go anywhere.
“About that Frenchman. It was such a shame we had to behead him. He was a good lad. We actually thought the court would give him mercy, but no such luck. We have to follow the orders of the court, but if someone had asked me...”
“Yes, such a waste of a young life,” Q answered. At first, he’d been surprised that hangmen did have a conscience. He’d always envisioned them as cold-blooded monsters, but they weren’t. They were just human beings with a horrible job. But they weren’t cruel sadists like Kriminalkommissar Becker and his men.
The executioners at Plötzensee didn’t enjoy their jobs.
“I remember this young man we took a few weeks back,” another executioner raised his voice. “He just stood there, sobbing in the death chamber while we finished our discussion on…I don’t even recall now. I felt horrible for having made him wait and apologized to him for this very rude behavior.”
Just before you killed him, Q added in his mind.
The other executioner joined in the walk down memory lane. “Remember that con man?”
“The one who worked as a hairdresser? He was always smiling and in a wonderful mood.”
Q took the
bait and asked, “Why was he always in a good mood? He was on death row.”
“Yes, but he was actually looking forward to his execution.” The executioner chuckled and raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you want to know why?”
“Yes. Sounds like a good punch line. Why was he looking forward to his execution?” Q asked.
“Because every prisoner is given six cigarettes to smoke on his last day. He was actually yearning for that day.” The hangman burst into boisterous laughter.
“Everyone does what he can to deal with the situation,” Q answered and ran a hand through his curls. He wondered how he would behave in his last hours. Would he remain steadfast and unwavering? Or would he crumble and beg for his life?
“Yes. But the civilians have more trouble coming to terms with their death than the military personnel. I remember this Czech colonel who begged us to properly disinfect the guillotine before it was his turn. He didn’t want to catch a nasty infection.”
There was laughter all around, and even Q broke a smile at that one.
“Sorry, but work calls. See you around,” the other one said and waved at Q.
Q bid his goodbyes, hoping he’d be around for a while longer. After the leisure hour, he and Werner were summoned to the prison director’s office. During his time in prison, Q had discovered that the director was a well-educated man who enjoyed a good discussion about science and literature. Not many inmates could provide this.
Q had the suspicion that whenever the cruelties of his jobs became too much, the prison director sent for him and Werner to occupy his mind with lighter material. They would discuss the classic German literature books found in the prison library, like Goethe’s Faust or Schiller’s The Robbers, carefully steering clear of any comment about current politics.
But today, the director wasn’t engaged in the discussion. After a while, he interrupted them with a sigh. “You might be interested to hear that even the most loyal citizens are turning their back on our Führer. Last week, two assassination attempts on Hitler failed.”
Q’s head snapped around, staring at the director in disbelief.
Werner found his voice first, “Have they arrested those involved?”
The director shrugged. “Maybe. The Gestapo arrested Hans von Dohnanyi and Dietrich Bonhoeffer.”
“From the Abwehr?” Q asked in disbelief. Since when did the Gestapo arrest Abwehr agents?
“Yes. Apparently, they have plotted against our Führer, and
at least Dohnanyi has forged papers to help several Jews flee to Switzerland. An unimaginable deed,” the director said, but somehow Q had the suspicion he actually condoned their doings.
He would never say so openly, but with every day that passed, Q’s conviction grew that the director hadn’t believed in the Nazi ideology for the longest time. There still was hope for an upheaval from within. If only the majority complicit so far in their silence took a stand and fought against their leader.
Chapter 27
Hilde had adapted to prison life, and in Margit, she’d found a wonderful companion. Letters were the highlight of her otherwise boring life in prison, and any day she received one was a happy day.
Mother Annie rarely wrote, but Mother Emma, her mother-in-law, Ingrid, and her sisters, Julia and Sophie, took turns writing, and she usually received two letters per week.
“I spoke with the Blonde Angel this morning,” Margit said with a teasing tone.
Hilde looked up from her needlework into Margit’s expectant face. She took the bait. “And what did she tell you?”
“Good news. Very good news,” Margit teased.
Hilde knew she had to play her game if she wanted to know what the Blonde Angel had said. “Come on, Margit, please tell me.”
“I might or I might not…”
Hilde laughed and threw one of the stockings she had just mended at her. “You’re as eager to tell me as I am to hear it.”
Margit pouted but then broke out in laughter. “You have me there. So, the big news is…drum roll…women are not executed any longer.”
“They aren’t executing women?” Hilde stared in disbelief at her cellmate, as hope spread throughout her chest once again.
“It’s not official, but apparently, the executioners are swamped with work, and it was decided to stop executing women for the time being.”
“That indeed is good news.” Hilde took Margit by her shoulders and danced with her around the tiny cell.
The days trickled by, and every day, more concerning news from the outside reached the prison. The Eastern front had all but crumbled, and the Soviets seemed to gain footing, while the British and Americans had started a Combined Bomber Offensive, a strategic bombing campaign to disrupt the German war economy, reduce the morale, and destroy the housing of the civilian population. Rommel’s Afrika Korps had to surrender in Tunisia. One hundred and fifty thousand German soldiers and one hundred and twenty-five thousand Italian soldiers became prisoners of war, and the absence of their manpower had a crippling effect on every other front.
One month had passed since Volker’s visit when Annie visited again.
“You look very good, Hilde,” Annie said.
Hilde sighed and shook her head. “What do I care about looks?”
“It is important, even in your situation, and I’m glad you’re taking care of yourself. Do you need more shampoo?” Annie touched her carefully back-combed hair.
For the first time, Hilde noticed the grey strands in her mother’s hair and the profound wrinkles around her eyes.
“No, thanks, but I could use some food. They have reduced our rations again. The only reason I’m not losing much weight is because I barely move.”
“Well…what do you do in here all day?” Annie asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Not much. I think what I miss most about being in here is having work to do. Maybe you could bring me some clothes for the children that need to be mended, or some yarn so I could knit them sweaters…anything to keep my hands busy.”
“I think I could send you some yarn,” Annie said noncommittally. Hilde could feel something was bothering her.
“Don’t worry about me, Mother. I don’t deny that sometimes I am about to break down, but generally, I’m fine. There’s a little window in my cell through which the sun has been shining for weeks. It’s been getting warmer each day, and I can see the trees beneath my window. They are blooming green with leaves.”
“Yes, the spring is the only good thing we have right now,” Annie complained.
“Mother, we should be grateful for what we have,” Hilde scolded her. “The weather is so wonderful. Some days, all I can think about are the children and how much they must enjoy being able to get outside and soak up the sun after this long and harsh winter. Even though I can’t be with them, I am happy to know they are happy.”
“You can say that because you are safe in here, but outside…the constant air raids are demoralizing,” Annie said, her face frowning in consternation. “Not one night goes by when we don’t have to rush to the shelter. I always worry whether I will survive the night, the lack of sleep has taken its toll on my health and youthfulness, and even my best contacts can’t get me real coffee anymore.”
Hilde was torn between rage and amusement about her mother’s grievances. Here she was, sentenced to death, and Annie complained about her hardships? Some things never changed.
“I really don’t understand why the British have to make our lives so difficult! Why don’t they go back to their island and leave us in peace? I haven’t done anything, so why do I have to bear their wrath?”
Hilde chose not to answer and instead directed their discussion back to happier topics. “How is your husband? What opera is he currently singing in?”
“Oh my God, Hilde, sometimes I ask myself, how you can care so little about other people? How do you not know that my poor Robert has suffered from a severe inflammation of his vocal cords and hasn’t been able to perform most of the winter?
It’s all the fault of those bloody British. They destroy everything!”
Hilde sighed and was actually glad when the guard announced their visiting time was over.
Chapter 28
As he paced the tiny cell Q’s eyes shot daggers at Werner. Three long strides. Turn. Four small strides. Turn.
“I can’t believe you gave away all your inventions to the Soviets. A government you never understood,” Werner said.
“That’s not true,” Q protested. “Communism is the only form of government to look out for its people. The reign of the people, no more elites, no more rich persons taking everything for themselves.”
“And where did you get your information? You don’t seem to know the first thing about this so-called Socialism.” Werner stepped into Q’s way.
Q scowled. “I can’t think when I have to stand still. Get out of my way.”
“Oh, oh, the mighty Doctor Quedlin is thinking. But you should stick to natural science, where you are a true creative force, and leave political sciences to others. Your philosophy of life is heavily skewed.” Werner smirked and stepped aside.
“Oswald Spengler,” Q said and ran a hand through his hair. “His book Decline of the West explains everything there is to know about the clash of civilizations.”
“Phaw…Spengler was wrong,” Werner declared.
“How so?” Q queried. “All humans are created equal and if everyone is working for the best of the community–”
“That isn’t Socialism, my friend.” Werner shook his head.
Q looked towards the window, having heard this before. “So, you would argue against his idea that all civilizations go through a natural life process of birth, growth, maturity, and then death? That all civilizations have a limited lifespan; one that can be predicted?”
“The end of civilizations is not a foregone conclusion. And Socialism is not the capitalism of the lower classes. In my opinion, Socialism is about improving the community by everyone’s working equally, and ensuring that everyone is reliant on the government to the same degree and the government determines how that community will thrive.”
Unwavering: Love and Resistance in WW2 Germany Page 11