Werner applauded. “I imagine you also investigated what happens to the bodies?”
“Of course,” Q answered with a contented smile. “The bodies of prisoners like us aren’t buried. They are taken to the University where they are dissected for medical and scientific discovery.”
“Well, isn’t that good news? Even after your death, you’ll do great things for science!” Werner teased.
Q crumpled a sheet of paper and threw it at Werner. “I should let you continue whatever insignificant things you were doing.”
Then he continued writing the letter to his mother. As much as he would have liked to share his discoveries about the different methods of execution with her, he resisted. She would probably appreciate it even less than Werner had.
This letter will show you that I have made my peace with my fate, dear Mother. It is a fate that every human on earth shares with me, as everyone has to die one day.
I have dared to use my freedom of thought as an intellectual person to defy the laws of our cruel government and now have to pay the price for it. But I do it with a raised head and in the reassuring certainty of never having betrayed my conscience like so many others did.
If there is life after death, I can start with a clean conscience and hope to see my beloved wife there.
Sometimes, I believe I am making it too easy for myself, living here in my cell as an intellectual hermit, awaiting the imminent. And sometimes, I believe all of you kind souls are making it too easy for me by thinking of me with such generous and graceful thoughts, sending me letters full of love and not one single word of reproach.
Especially you, my dearest aged but unbowed mother, who is sending me the strength of her thoughts to make me powerful.
Nobody can be considered a happy person looking at death, and yet sometimes, I’m shivering in fear that my current joyful state of mind will suddenly disappear into agony. It might be harder to have to survive and foot the bill for years to come than to go quickly and full of illusions.
I wish that all your hopes for peace would come true. I am afraid, though, that the gods and powers that be have different plans for the world and most especially for our country. I would have accepted what the gods handed me and helped rebuild the world. A better world.
A world of peace, mutual respect, and equal opportunities. A world without war, hatred, and humiliation.
You have known me as an impatient person, always on the lookout to take fate into my own hands, to change the course of events with my own actions.
I believe it was my calling to stem the tide when I set the first foot on this path that has led me to where I am now. Even today, I have no possibility of knowing if I correctly understood the calling the gods gave me, or if I misunderstood my purpose of life.
The only thing I could do was to always keep my actions free of lowly and self-serving motives. Everything I did, I was convinced, served a greater good.
Now that I have been caught and my plans sabotaged, I have more than enough time on my hands to meditate in my cell. The meditation has led me to recognize one thing. One thing.
All these struggles in our present time were not meant to be resolved by the action of one individual. Neither were they meant to be resolved from ambush. No, the gods have planned this war to end in an open and honest fight.
This war will be fought to the bitter end with sweat, tears, and blood.
Not only the soldiers but also the civilians will have to show endurance and heroic sacrifice – more than anyone is now able to fathom.
Because I had a mission in life, I’m free of regret. The powers that be didn’t wish for my intervention. I accept this wish and will leave this world without hard feelings.
Maybe a part of me will remain in this world, maybe I was meant to inspire creative persons to bring out their very best. Or maybe I was put into this world to procreate, and the important legacy is my two sons.
Maybe my work in the area of plant protection will one day serve to bring good into the world and feed many hungry people. The more the war took over our daily lives, the more my mind fled into a more peaceful and positive area which I found at the Biological Reich Institute. Even after switching to work for Loewe, I frequently visited my colleagues at the Institute, and we had many fruitful discussions.
The peace of the gardens, the agriculture, and the plants motivated me to work on more productive things than the destructive armaments industry.
Believing that there will be better times after the war where great minds are necessary to rebuild our country and to teach the simple workingman new skills and abilities, I’m sad that I won’t be part of that new era, and cannot rush towards a better future with everyone else.
For now, I say, “Solch ein Gewimmel möcht ich sehn ... zum Augenblicke dürft ich sagen: Verweile doch…!” You’ll know that part of Faust II by Johann Wolfgang Goethe. So maybe I will still experience my highest moment before those with the spade will come.
I’m glad that my fate has brought you closer to Gunther and his wife as well as to Hilde’s wonderful parents.
I also want to reach out my hand to Gunther, hoping he will reach for it, forgetting his dislike for Hilde and without mentioning the past years of estrangement. I wish to reconcile with him before leaving this world.
Despite our differences, Gunther has generously taken over my legal affairs. May he be blessed. How comforting to know that he, too, will help to steer my sons through life, and if so much mercy would be given, helping Hilde if she might stay alive.
I am wishing the best to his sons, especially the youngest who is a flak soldier, with his sweet fifteen years.
Enough blood from our family has flowed in this war and the last one.
Q’s hand trembled, and he had to pause. His mind flashed back to a time when he was a young boy, playing with his older brothers, Gunther, Knut, and Albert. They were already in their teens when he was born.
Albert was closest to him in age and mindset. Eleven years older and a gifted mathematician, he helped Q many times with his homework. Q smiled at the memory of how they’d played in their big garden before they moved to Berlin. Q would sit on the swing and Albert would push him until he felt like he was flying into the clouds.
Years later, they discussed scientific problems, and Albert always laughed at his simplistic solutions. But Q admired his brother more than anyone else and vowed to become as brilliant a mind as Albert was when he grew up.
Sadness overwhelmed Q when he traveled through time to the day shortly after his eleventh birthday when Albert left to become a pilot in the Great War. Albert was so full of life, so confident, and looked so handsome in his uniform.
Their mother had waited until he’d walked away before the tears streamed down her face. Q hadn’t understood why she cried. Not on that day.
About a year later, they’d received the dreaded telegram. We are very sorry to inform you that your son Albert Quedlin has been shot down over France. On that day, Q’s life had changed forever. Nothing was as lighthearted as it had been before.
His second oldest brother, Knut, was the black sheep of the family. He preferred to travel instead of holding a steady job. Q had never understood Knut’s wanderlust and his need to be anywhere but home.
When Q was twenty-six, his brother had embarked on one of his prolonged excursions. He wanted to travel the entire length of Norway all the way up to the polar circle. Knut was never seen again.
Their mother had clung to the hope for years that her second son would one day show up in her kitchen as he always had. But after seven years, Gunther and Q had insisted she declare him dead. His poor, strong mother.
Soon, only Gunther would be left. The oldest, most responsible of her sons. He and their mother had often butted heads because he was so stubborn in his convictions. For him, everything was black or white, no shades of grey in between. Becoming a lawyer had been inevitable.
Q pursed his lips. Gunther and Hilde had developed a disl
ike on first sight, and both of them had never been able to get past this first impression. He had to give Gunther great credit for helping now when he needed him most. Q hadn’t had to ask; Gunther had offered his support to Herr Müller without hesitating for one second. He would be a good guardian for Q’s sons.
Dusk was falling, and he continued to write…
Now I will say goodbye to you, my beloved mother, because this will probably be the last letter I write to you, except for the day of my execution when I’m allowed to write more than one letter.
From now on, you’ll hear about me from Hilde, my beloved wife to whom I owe everything. I dedicate my entire soul and all my rare letters to her.
But I would love to receive letters from you and from everyone who is able and willing to write me. They are the highlights of my reclusive life. There’s no need to refer back to this letter in your answers; we do not want to bother the censors with insignificant details.
Your letters keep me in a good mood. News from the family and especially from my dear children keeps me connected to my former world, that’s now only your world. It keeps the solitude away from my heart. It would be wonderful if the family could take turns in writing; this way not all the burden falls upon you, my beloved mother.
I will never forget our shared memories. Most of the past I see with a photographic memory. You at the end station of the tram line 44 where you waited for me to return from school. And your apartment. I can even smell the herb tea you used to brew when I visited. This way I never feel alone in my isolation, and every letter from the outside brings life to those pictures in my mind.
Please give my best greetings to everyone. With Annie Klein, you do not talk anymore? Such a pity because she is such a good soul, sacrificing, with a good heart, but little education.
One note to everyone: please don’t put money in the letters, only stamps.
Today is Friday, and according to my observations, they don’t come to fetch on weekends, so I’ll most probably still be alive when you receive this letter on Monday, June 21.
Mid-summer.
On December 20 I almost died, and now, half a year later I’m still here. And have we not deepened our bond through this letter?
Goodbye. Farewell. Thank you for everything you gave me, including the healthy constitution which I hope my children have inherited.
We are now connected spiritually.
Your son, Wilhelm
It was almost midnight, and the dusk was giving way to a few short hours of darkness. Q stared at the paper until the letters blurred. There was so much more he wanted to tell his mother, but this would be his last letter to her. Honest person that she was, she had made it clear in no uncertain words that she refused to receive secret messages from him.
Chapter 34
Hilde was in a quandary. She’d been told a few minutes ago that, on July fifteenth, she would once again be allowed a visit from her sons. But she had to choose one child.
“Margit, what shall I do?” she asked her cellmate.
“That’s a difficult question, indeed.” Margit put a hand to her chin and wrinkled her forehead. “Which one do you want to see more urgently?”
“Of course, both of them,” Hilde sighed. “The last time Volker visited was three months ago, but I haven’t seen Peter since I was arrested…and I would love to see how he can walk…and talk. Hear him speak so many words with his little voice.”
“Then take Peter,” Margit suggested.
“I don’t know. Do you think he still remembers me? He was barely nine months old when I had to leave him with Mother Annie.” Hilde stood and paced the room. She looked out the small window to the trees in full blossom, and then she turned around to glance at Margit. “What if he doesn’t recognize me? What if he has no idea who that strange woman is? Wouldn’t that disturb his little mind?”
“Hmm, I don’t think so; but then take Volker,” Margit said.
“I really want to see Peter...”
“Perhaps you shouldn’t think what you want, but what is best for your children,” Margit suggested in an attempt to help Hilde take the emotions out of this decision.
“You’re probably right…Peter doesn’t even know what a mother is. If he sees me here, how strange will that be for him? It wouldn’t mean anything to him.” Hilde nodded. “It’s more important that Volker comes to visit. I want him to recognize me as his mother if I ever get out of here.”
“He does have pictures of you,” Margit argued.
“Yes, but it’s not the same. Maybe he won’t forget me if he sees me at least once in a while. He’s such an intelligent boy.” Hilde smiled at the memories invading her mind. “If Emma keeps telling him about his mother, and if I hopefully get out of here one day, then I’m not just a strange aunt he’s never met before.”
“Won’t the trip to Berlin be too strenuous for him?” Margit asked.
“No. We took him on trips when he was much smaller, and he has always liked it. He has a healthy constitution and is curious enough to enjoy new surroundings.”
“Don’t you think he might be disturbed? If he’s as intelligent as you say, he’ll find out that this is not a hospital, but a prison.”
“Perhaps.” Hilde wrinkled her nose as she thought for a few moments before she continued to speak. “Even if he’ll be slightly deranged by the visit, if you were in my situation, wouldn’t you want to see him?”
“Of course I would. So, take Volker.”
“I will. And if I’m not allowed to live, then he will at least have a memory of his mother.” Tears pooled in Hilde’s eyes.
Three more weeks and she would wrap her arms around her beloved son again.
***
A few days later, a letter from Q arrived. She tore it open and devoured his words.
My beloved Hilde,
Oh, how I loved receiving your last letter and that precious picture of our little boys. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. I admit, I cried when I saw how much they both have grown, but I know that they are safe and being cared for…that is all I could ask for.
As to your question about packages from Annie. Yes, she does send me one every month, and I’m very grateful for her continued support. It always contains much-needed food and stamps (we are not allowed to have money, but can use the stamps to buy certain things).
Despite my not being allowed to receive visitors, your kind mother has managed to change Kriminalkommissar Becker’s mind and came to visit me.
Hilde stared at the paper. Mother Annie had visited Q? How? Or better: Why? She continued to read with curiosity.
I was immensely grateful and happy about her visit, but I’m afraid she didn’t feel the same joy at the results of our discussion. Your self-sacrificing mother wished to attain custody over our two boys, but in line with what you and I have discussed earlier, I had to refuse her wish. Instead, I told her that my brother Gunther, who is well versed in all legal affairs, is our preferred guardian for the children.
Hilde giggled loud enough to attract the attention of Margit, who shot her a questioning glance.
“It’s just Q. He’s so funny,” Hilde explained and imagined how Q and her mother had been sitting in the visiting room – both of them staring at each other, and her mother growing exasperated as she grasped that she wouldn’t get her way with Q. It had been like that with them for years. Q had always been polite and kind to Annie, but he’d never succumbed to her charms like everyone else did. Apparently even Kriminalkommissar Becker.
Hilde put the letter to her nose, Q’s smell still lingering on the paper, and started to read again.
I have received several letters from Emma, and even one from your sister Sophie. Please give them my heartfelt thanks if you have the opportunity to do so.
Not a day goes by that I don’t regret the circumstances that led to your imprisonment. Please forgive me! If there were a way I could spare you what lies ahead, I would do so…even with my own life. My love, I do not want
to raise your spirits in vain, but there might be hope for you.
Hilde paused and shook her head. She bore Q no ill will and wasn’t upset with him. She had supported his decisions and actions out of free will. It would have been easy to walk away and save herself had she wished to.
Q had even suggested abandoning her and the children after a feigned fight, to keep them safe. But she had objected.
She turned her attention back to her husband’s letter.
I am in good health and have been generously allowed to continue my scientific work. It is such a relief for my mind to meditate and to ponder on the solution of scientific problems. You know me well enough to understand how I tend to get absorbed in my work. It fills endless hours and time flies by. As peculiar as it sounds, I am quite happy with my current situation. The only thing I wish for is to have you by my side.
Hilde felt a twinge of jealousy. Q was working and had something to occupy his day while she had nothing to do. She would ask Emma to send her Sophie’s old school books. Then she could keep her mind occupied with practicing French or learning history.
Instinctively, she grabbed the jasper pendant around her neck that Q’s mother had given her. The stone warmed quickly to the touch of her hand and never failed to give her confidence.
Her thoughts wandered to Ingrid, and a surge of empathy filled her soul. Q would be the third of her four sons to die. It was a fate no mother should have to endure. Hilde decided to ask for permission to write an extra letter next month. That letter would go to Ingrid.
Then she turned back to Q’s letter, reading the many spoonerisms he wrote for her. Soon enough she was holding her stomach from laughing.
“What are you giggling about over there?” Margit asked.
Unwavering: Love and Resistance in WW2 Germany Page 14