“Q’s letter. He wrote a number of spoonerisms,” Hilde answered and started to recite, but was interrupted by a guard opening their cell door.
“Leisure time,” she announced and sent them down to the courtyard for their daily walk.
“Take the letter with you and read those spoonerisms to us,” Margit urged her.
Hilde nodded and folded the letter into her pocket as they joined the other prisoners in the courtyard. Hilde recited a few of the verses, and attracted by Margit’s and Hilde’s giggles, several other inmates and even some guards gathered around to listen.
“Let’s see if you can guess what the words should have been? Drear fiend.” Hilde glanced around expectantly as the women repeated the words.
One of them grinned and called out, “Dear friend.”
“That’s it. Now, try this one. I hissed my mystery lectures.”
Margit beamed. “That one is easy. I missed my history lectures.”
“Good. One more. You have a nosey little crook there.” Hilde watched as the women mouthed the words to themselves.
Finally, one of the guards spoke up, “You have a cozy little nook there.”
“Precisely,” Hilde said.
Margit touched her arm. “Thank you for sharing those with us.” She looked around at the gathered group and sighed, “We don’t laugh enough around here.”
Chapter 35
Q had received noncommittal indications from Göring that Hilde’s plea for clemency would be looked upon favorably, but nothing official. He was drip-feeding the Kriegsmarine, the German navy, with small albeit unimportant improvements for the acoustic torpedoes. By doing so, he wouldn’t give away his discoveries before Hilde’s sentence was revoked, yet nobody could accuse him of a lack of cooperation.
One day in July, Q’s lawyer visited with news to share.
“I spoke with Erhard Tohmfor’s wife to give my condolences for her husband’s death,” Herr Müller said.
A knot tied up Q’s throat. His good friend was dead. Gone forever. One of the kindest, must upright men he’d known.
“How is she?” Q asked when he regained control over his voice.
“Frau Tohmfor is as fine as circumstances permit. She was arrested, but the Gestapo released her after a short time. I had hoped she could give me information that would be helpful with your appeal.”
“I don’t want to appeal. I’ve been rightly accused of treason, and I accept the power of the authorities to punish me for breaking their law. My mission in life, one I freely took upon myself, was to bring the current government down.”
“There is still a chance–” Herr Müller pleaded.
“No.” Q shook his head. “I would rather you spend your time and my money to bring about a milder sentence for my wife. My case is lost.”
Herr Müller nodded although he clearly didn’t agree. “As you wish.”
“I do have a request for you, though,” Q said.
“Go on.” Herr Müller glanced at his watch. “We have a few more minutes left.”
“Could you contact a dear friend of mine, Leopold Stieber, and ask him if he’d be willing to help care for my children once I’m not on this earth anymore.”
The lawyer agreed, and Q gave him Leopold’s address. When it was time to bid goodbye, Herr Müller handed him an issue of the Nazi propaganda newspaper Völkischer Beobachter. “You might be interested in the news.”
“Thank you, I’m sure this reading material will lift my spirits,” Q said with a sarcastic tone.
“It might, given that you are waiting for this war to be over. The four-year anniversary of the declaration of war by England is nearing. As far as I’m concerned, there’s no person in this country who isn’t waiting for the end,” Herr Müller said and prepared to leave. “Someone contacted me a few days ago. The man wouldn’t reveal his name, but insisted I let you know he was safe.”
Q nodded thoughtfully. The lawyer didn’t say another word but proceeded to hug Q, which was unusual to say the least. “I’ll be back in a few weeks.”
“Good day,” Q answered, trying to find a reason for Herr Müller’s strange behavior.
The guard searched the newspaper for hidden messages and then led him back to his cell. Absentmindedly, Q tossed the newspaper on the table and dug his hands into his pockets, where his fingers touched a piece of paper that hadn’t been there before.
Q plopped onto the bunk bed and unfolded it.
Please destroy this letter immediately.
After your arrest and the arrest of E, I tried to get in touch with persons I knew by name, but in vain. Everything was cut off. I didn’t dare ask around, under the constant terror of being discovered myself.
I’m safe and continue to work as always, although the situation became more critical for me every day. But now things have calmed down, and I continue with our work.
It is only because of your and E’s pertinacity that I am still alive. I owe my life to you for never mentioning my name. And I admire you for acting ruthlessly against yourself. Steadfast and strong. You were the brilliant mind and E was the natural born leader who knew like no other to lead us the correct way.
It is a way that I will continue to honor, despite the additional difficulties. I lack the connections you and E had, but that doesn’t bother me. Rest assured that I will continue to work for our cause with unwavering effort, maybe even with more enthusiasm than before.
I learned about E’s unfortunate end several days ago, and the fact that this inhuman regime has annihilated one of the best persons I’ve known gives me strength to carry on every day.
During a recent air raid, I had to hear that “we have to thank the pig Q for those attacks from our enemies.”
You can’t imagine how much I wait for the day of the planned upheaval.
X
The letter was typewritten, but there was no mistaking that Martin was the sender.
Q smiled and took solace in the fact that he’d at least been able to save one of his friends. He tore the paper into tiny pieces and swallowed them. Martin had taken a big – and useless – risk writing this letter, but nevertheless, it was nice to know he continued to sabotage the military production at Loewe.
Maybe there was hope for Germany.
The next day, news about the war reached the prisoners. During their leisure time in the courtyard, nervous whispers shared the developments of the past week.
“The Red Army has launched a devastating attack on our Wehrmacht in Kursk,” one of the guards said with an unusually serene face. “Both my brother and my cousin are in the 4th Panzer Army. I’m afraid they won’t return home.”
One of the Russian prisoners grinned and raised his hands, seemingly asking for God’s help to defeat the Germans.
“It doesn’t look good for Hitler,” another prisoner added; “the British, Canadian, and American troops have invaded Sicily. There are rumors they have conquered all major ports in Sicily.”
Q’s memory returned to his honeymoon. Licata, Gela, Pachino, Avola, Noto, Pozzallo, Scoglitti, Ispica, Rosolini, and Syracuse. It seemed like centuries ago that he and Hilde had visited the ancient Sicilian ports. Back in 1937, Sicily had been peaceful, calm, and hospitable. They’d even joked about staying there forever and becoming wine farmers.
“I wonder how much longer Mussolini will resist the combined forces of the Western Allies,” Q murmured.
“If the Italians can’t help themselves, we’ll go and do it for them,” one of the guards said.
Q shook his head. “The Wehrmacht is bleeding out. Where should the replacements for the many fallen soldiers come from? Even my sixteen-year-old nephew has been drafted to handle flak.”
“Pah, that’s black propaganda from the enemy – our losses are minimal,” the guard responded.
But Q believed otherwise. Before being arrested, he’d listened daily to foreign radio stations, and their numbers always differed widely from those presented by the propaganda ministry.<
br />
“One day, you will remember my words. In a year from now, Hitler and his Reich of a Thousand Years will be nothing but rubble. People like you will be the ones to shoulder the burden of rebuilding our country from the ashes. The suffering will be tremendous. Much worse than anything we experience now.”
Chapter 36
Hilde was lying on her bed, wallowing in self-pity. Volker was sick and hadn’t been able to travel to Berlin.
“If I can’t see Volker, I won’t go to see my mother either,” she whined.
“That’s just stupid,” Margit told her. “Any visitor is better than moping around in here. I’m sure you will enjoy seeing your mother.”
“I won’t. I want to see my son! My son!”
In the end, Hilde dragged herself to the visiting room, but only because Margit insisted. And maybe because she was the tiniest bit curious what news her mother would bring from the lawyer.
As she entered the visiting room, she was surprised to find two people waiting for her. It took a few moments before she recognized her half-brother, Klaus. He’d grown, and towered over her by at least a head. His shoulders had broadened, and his face had lost the chubby childlike look.
“You’ve grown so tall.” Hilde hugged her brother.
“I’m not a boy anymore,” he reminded her with the pride of a teenager who wanted to be a man, “I’m a soldier now. A Luftwaffenhelfer.”
Hilde nodded and shook her mother’s hand. “A soldier at fifteen? That’s awful.”
“I turned sixteen several weeks ago,” he protested and did his best to stand taller.
After exchanging some pleasantries, Hilde asked the question preying on her mind. “Do you have news from Herr Müller, Mother?”
“Indeed. Herr Müller has telephoned me to announce that your clemency appeal has been filed. It will be brought to the attention of the Führer himself to decide upon. Herr Müller is confident that the Führer will give a positive answer.”
Hilde shrugged her shoulders. She should be elated but wasn’t.
“That doesn’t seem to make you happy,” Annie said.
“I’m trying not to get my hopes up too much, and I can’t imagine living without my Q.”
Annie shook her head. “How can you say that? He is responsible for all of this.”
“Mother, I don’t expect you to understand this, but only now after going through these bad times can I really appreciate how good a man Q is. He’s the love of my life, never more so than now.”
“How is he still alive?” Klaus asked. “I understood they have executed all traitors from that Schulze-Boysen group.”
Hilde squeezed his arm at the mention of the execution rooms. “Q is working scientifically again, and the government is hoping to gain useful research from him. That is the only reason he is still alive. They’ll hold him as a prisoner as long as he’s useful to them and then…”
“And you still tell me he’s such a good man? He’s betraying his own faulty ideals and now works for the government he hated so much? To buy himself time? What about you? Why doesn’t he offer his work in exchange for your release?” Annie was talking herself into a rage.
“Mother, there’s nothing left for me out there, and the only reason I want to live is for the sake of my boys.” It was hard to explain, but every day she felt a greater distance between herself and the outside world. She didn’t belong anymore, and she didn’t know if she could return to a normal life after what she’d gone through.
One moment she accepted her fate, and the next one, she was paralyzed by terror and wanted to scream, Let me live! I want to live!
“Your boys need their mother.” Annie averted her eyes. “You will be with them, perhaps even for your birthday in five weeks.”
“I’m not so sure, Mother. If Germany loses the war, they will kill all of us before the end.”
“Our Führer won’t allow that to happen. We will win this war,” Klaus said with youthful enthusiasm. The Nazi propaganda had worked perfectly on her brother.
Annie nodded. “There, you hear it. And in the unlikely case our enemies should win, I’m positive you will have been released already. The Nazis aren’t barbarians. Your plea for clemency will be approved.”
Hilde put a hand over her heart, hoping her mother was right. But even if she was spared, Q didn’t have the slightest reason to expect mercy. During his interrogations and his trial, and even now in his letters to her, he openly defied the Nazi ideology, calling it one of the worst evils in the world. The eighth deadly sin.
He’s made it too clear that he has been on the side of our enemies; they won’t give him the satisfaction of having been right. His unwavering opposition hadn’t made things easier for her either. The judge believed she had the same convictions as her husband. While that was true, she’d been careful to never admit it.
Would she really have to die because of those two letters she wrote for him?
As for Q, if the Allies won and found out he was assisting the Reich, they would be less lenient with him and might order his death themselves. I pity him.
Her mother interrupted her thoughts as she stepped closer, looping her arm with Hilde’s before dropping something into her daughter’s pocket.
“What’s that?” Hilde mouthed.
“Tranquilizers,” Annie whispered into her ear. “Take them in case…you know.”
Chapter 37
Q had been waiting to hear back from Herr Müller with news from Leopold. In the event that both he and Hilde were executed, he wanted to secure as much support from Leopold for their two sons as possible. Leopold was a well-connected factory owner, jovial, honest and with high moral standards.
They had been friends since high school, and Q knew that Leopold had lost his parents at an early age and had later been adopted. He understood from firsthand experience how much orphaned children required moral support from different sources.
The lawyer had asked to meet with Q in the open courtyard, where it was harder for the guard to eavesdrop. The request was granted, and Q joined him, the pair walking slowly around the perimeter as they spoke.
“Did you find Leopold?” Q asked quietly, keeping his eyes straight ahead.
“Yes and no. He was captured and charged with high treason.”
Q almost lost his composure, but he remained strong and asked, “What did he do?”
“You really want to make me believe you had no idea he was working in the resistance? They accused him of being a part of the Red Orchestra network.” Herr Müller pierced Q with his eyes.
“I…had no idea,” Q stammered. “I…he…he never told me.”
“Well, your friend was discharged and found not guilty.”
“They acquitted him?” Q asked, louder than intended, relief flooding his system.
Herr Müller nodded and then moved his eyes to the side to indicate the growing interest from the guards. Both he and Q started walking again.
“He must have powerful connections, but apparently not powerful enough. They didn’t release him into freedom but rather transferred him to the concentration camp Sachsenhausen.”
“After finding him not guilty?” Q asked incredulously.
“Yes. Unfortunately, the instrument of protective custody can be used against anyone at any time. I found out that he’s doing forced labor in an industrial complex. The owner can’t speak highly enough of your friend.”
Q considered the news in silence, until the lawyer spoke again: “What do you know about Stieber’s parents?”
“He became an orphan early on and was later adopted. His parents are nice people; I’ve met them several times.” Q wondered why the lawyer wanted to know about Leopold’s parents.
“Did you know they are Romani?”
“Romani?” Q hissed. “I had no idea.” What else did he not know about his friend?
“They changed their last name shortly after they adopted Leopold and moved to Berlin to start with a clean slate. I’m not certain whether
he knew or not when he was a child. But he definitely knew after 1939 when his father died, and his mother went into hiding. She might be the reason why he joined the resistance.”
Q didn’t answer. A sick feeling of betrayal spread across his body. He and Leopold had known each other for more than twenty years, had even been good friends, and yet his friend had never seen fit to tell him the truth. Not about his parents. Not about his opposition to the government.
It’s not as if I was completely honest with him either. Q realized that both of them had kept secrets they didn’t want anyone else to know. He chuckled at the irony. It’s funny. We’ve been friends for more than half of our lives, and yet we never knew the other one was working for the same cause.
The lawyer remained quiet as well, and after a while, the tension became unbearable.
“You have other news,” Q stated matter-of-factly.
“Yes. Shall we find a place to sit?”
“No. Just tell me.” Q increased his pace to get away from the prying ears of the guards.
“Very well. Hitler and Goebbels are still very indignant about your assassination plan.”
Q drew a breath and clasped his hands together. “That doesn’t sound like it bodes well for me.”
“It doesn’t. I received word that they are planning to publicly hang you in front of the Loewe factory.”
The blood froze in his veins. They want to make an example of me.
Chapter 38
Hilde sat in her cell, fingering the tranquilizers her mother had given her. Despite the aggravating circumstances, Annie’s gesture moved her to tears. It probably was the nicest thing anyone had done for her in a while.
She vowed to work on a better relationship with her mother if she ever returned to freedom.
Several days later, Hilde seized the opportunity to buy paper for a secret message to her stepmother. Volker hadn’t been able to travel for the scheduled visit, but she could at least write him.
Dear Mother Emma,
Unwavering: Love and Resistance in WW2 Germany Page 15