The admiring Jugend official begged to be allowed to bring in a couple of his superiors, and the three Nazis listened with stuffed mouths to an account of the visit to Karinhall, which was the same as Walhalla or Mount Olympus or Hollywood to them. Lanny described Unser Hermann’s oblong dining-hall, which seated twenty-four persons, each in a big armchair, at a long table; and the magnificent leather-bound copy of Mein Kampf, which the Führer had presented, and which stood on a lectern with a candle on each side of it, always burning; and the cages with the grown-up lion cubs, each of which had been named Kaiser, and now were known as Kaiser Eins, Zwei, Drei, and Vier; and the wonderful toy trains, which dashed and tootled and obeyed signals just like so many Jugendbeamten. Lanny repeated what Göring had said about the new armies being formed, which would end the war in the east before the West had a chance to get started. All this added immensely to the enjoyment of Delicatessen.
It was really too good to last, and it didn’t. There came a screaming of sirens, and these middle-aged and slightly paunchy bureaucrats had to gather up the remains of the food and hustle down into the air-raid shelter in the basement and sit crowded on uncomfortable benches. Daylight planes were always American, and this was embarrassing to a visitor who had to apologize and murmur that he had done his best to prevent it and now was trying to stop it. Fortunately the American bombers aimed at objectives such as factories where war goods were being made, and these were mostly in the poorer and more dingy neighborhoods; so Party officials didn’t have to worry so much.
XIV
The traveler went out on the street again and looked at Berlin after an air raid. He didn’t see any signs of damage, and the afternoon paper told him that a large flight of planes had been driven off by the city’s accurate defense fire. He guessed that it had been an observation raid, for the purpose of taking photographs. The newspaper informed him also of a concert, and that item would probably be accurate. Music was now the only thing in Germany that was both excellent and cheap, and he decided to remind himself of the good Fatherland, the one he had known and loved as a boy. There must have been some of that left in people’s hearts, or why would they come out of their homes in cold weather and spend their small savings for Mozart and Beethoven?
So Lanny spent a couple of hours in the presence of supernal loveliness, moved almost to tears at the thought of the spiritual treasures that were disappearing so rapidly from the earth. “Stay, thou art fair!” had been the cry of Faust; but this music did not stay, it spoke to you and then vanished, leaving nothing but a memory, and a soul ill satisfied with a world of cruelty and hatred. Lanny thought, as he had always done in the presence of any form of beauty: Why can it not be appreciated, and why cannot the world be built to guard it and keep it, instead of blowing it to pieces with explosives dropped from the air? He would have liked to voice that thought to the people about him, but he had to hold his tongue. In all Germany there was but one person to whom he would dare to speak his mind, and that person, Monck, was forced to live as an outcast and criminal, under an assumed name and carrying papers that were forged.
Coming out from this heaven of the spirit, Lanny walked again, and bethought himself of his bodily needs. He was planning to have supper with the Donnerstein sisters, and he stopped at a food shop where the queue seemed not too long. Living in a palace and visiting in others, Lanny hadn’t met many of the German Volk, and this was the one way that was open to him. Mostly it was old people in the line, for they were the ones who had the time to spare; nine out of ten of them were women. It was late afternoon, and cold, and the would-be customers, mostly with shawls over their heads, stood hunched and silent, their hands under the shawls for warmth, their bundles clutched to their sides. The stranger hunched himself like the others and kept his fur-lined gloves in his pockets, trying to appear as unfashionable as he could.
There were some who talked, and Lanny discovered that most of the conversation had to do with food and where you could get it and what prices you had to pay. This was a poor neighborhood, and the women’s faces were pale, all but some noses that were red with cold; they were standing and enduring in an effort to get something for the hungry children who would be coming home from school, and for the men who would be looking for a nourishing meal after a hard day’s work. When the women did not find what they wanted, they grumbled, and the things they said about the Regierung would have made Jüppchen Goebbels’ ears burn. Lanny was astonished by the violence of the complaints, and by the loud tones in which they were voiced.
XV
He made his purchases and headed for the Underground, knowing that it would be jammed and uncomfortable at this hour. His duties were done, and how glad he would be to step into a plane and fly out of this giant Nazi jail! His walk took him by the great Schlesischer Bahnhof, and there he saw a crowd and wondered if the place had been bombed. There was some shouting, and he ventured to ask a question and was told that a trainload of wounded men had just come in from the eastern front. Lanny had seen that sight in the past, and could imagine it; the cripples barely able to hobble, the men with bandaged heads, with arms in slings, and some having to be carried in litters; always they were ghastly pale, and some greenish; they were unshaven and dirty, pitiful wrecks of the sturdy soldiers who had gone away.
And here were women waiting for them, tense with anxiety, some of them beside themselves with grief; they had broken through the barriers that were supposed to hold them, and that was a strange thing in this land of order. Some began wailing and screaming, cursing the regime that kept them at war, clamoring for the war’s end; the tumult increased every minute, and there were so many of the demonstrators that the police were helpless—at least until more had been summoned. Lanny didn’t wait to see that happen, for in such a place a round-up of war shirkers was apt to occur, and he didn’t want to have to produce his papers and explain how an enemy alien came to be there.
A little later the P.A. was crowded into the Underground. He found it indecent; it offended every sensibility of a fastidious gentleman, who had always had his own car and traveled where he pleased. He hugged his food bundles, and swayed this way and that with the standing mass, and tried hard to tell himself that he had no right to complain, that he was completing his education in the meaning of capitalist war. This modern style of conflict was bringing the great ones down to the level of the small; it was bombing the statesmen and the diplomats in their offices; it was even getting a general or an admiral now and then. It was bringing the civilians into the front line—rich man, poor man, beggarman, thief; doctor, lawyer, merchant, chief! It was teaching all of them a painful lesson, and maybe when it was learned they would take an interest in preventing World War III!
When he emerged from the subway it was dark, and when it gets dark in a blackout there is no mistaking it. Lanny knew the way and followed in the footsteps of other tired people seeking their food and sleep. On busy streets two lines formed, each keeping to the right; people wore tiny shaded lights fastened to their buttonholes, aimed downwards, and wired to pocket batteries. With these you could get along all right until you came to a crossing, and then you had to watch out for your life. Snow had begun to fall, and that made it worse; but Lanny was in no great hurry, he had a warm overcoat and gloves, and well-nourished, healthy blood.
He came to what he recognized as the steps of the palace. They were of marble, with marble balustrades on each side, and an area slightly below into which you might stumble if you were not careful. He had started to ascend when he heard a voice, speaking low: “Wer kommt da?” He thought the tones were familiar, and he asked: “Wer fragt?” The voice said: “Lanny?” And he answered, with great presence of mind: “Vetterl!”
It was Monck, and Lanny went down a step or two, and gave his friend a hand, to help him out of the area where he had been hiding. His hand was ice-cold—he had evidently been waiting for some time. “Can you take me in?” he whispered. Lanny asked: “Are you in trouble?” When the other said y
es, Lanny took him by the hand and led him silently up the steps. The P.A. had a key, and he opened the door, and they went inside and upstairs to the second-story room, unseen by anyone.
26
The Bombs Bursting in Air
I
Up in that elegantly furnished bedchamber, which had not been warm for several months, Lanny saw by the dim light that his friend’s teeth were chattering and his lips blue with cold. “I have been waiting a long time,” he said. “Ever since it was dark enough to hide in the area.”
“And you have no overcoat!”
“I had no time to get it. I had to run like the devil.”
“My God, man! Take off your shoes and get into bed.” Monck did this, moving over to the far side, and Lanny followed, taking the near half of the bed. It was an established way to live in a time when coal was needed for factories and railroads, and when every able-bodied man who could be spared was at the front. People learned how to live in cold houses; they had heat only for cooking, and they ate in the kitchen by that same warmth. When they were not moving about they lay in bed, saving both fuel and food. Conversations could be carried on there perfectly, and if you arranged a light you could read and be warm, all but the one arm that was holding the book or paper. Civilized people have a lot of fancy notions that they can unlearn when they have to—such as having sleeping clothes different from those you wear in the day, and that clothing has to be pressed smooth, and must not have any patches or other signs of wear.
Monck said: “Are we safe here?” The reply was: “I have locked the door. There might be a servant at the keyhole, so keep your voice low and speak English. What has happened to you?”
“The Gestapo came to Plötzen’s house. It was a piece of blind luck that I happened to go out by the basement door to set out a trash can and saw their cars draw up at the curb. I don’t think they saw me; I was on my way in. They ran up the steps and rang the front-door bell. I hid and waited until they rang again and the housekeeper came and answered. I heard them ask: ‘You have a servant named Konrad Kraft?’ and then I beat it for the rear door that gives onto a yard. I had studied the land in advance, looking from both the yard and the rear windows of the house, so I knew what to do. I climbed the fence into the next yard, and so on for five houses. Of course the SS could follow my tracks in the snow, but it would take them a few moments. I came to a garden that gave onto a side street. I fully expected to be halted there, but they hadn’t posted a guard. I saw a car coming and dashed out into the street and hailed it: ‘The master is sick! Take me to a doctor quickly!’ You see, I had on the right clothes, and it worked.”
“That is what I call presence of mind,” said the P.A.
“Believe me, I have been thinking about these things for many years, and trying to foresee all troubles. We came to a doctor’s sign, and I thanked the driver and jumped out. I went to the door and pretended to ring the bell; the car drove on, and then I walked as fast as I could without attracting attention, turning corners and getting away from Plötzen’s neighborhood. I knew that I was in a desperate way, because the police would be notified to look for a man in a butler’s black suit and without any hat or overcoat. Fortunately I came to a cinema, and I went in there and waited for darkness. Then I came here, on the chance that you might be able to hide me for the night. I know I have no right to do it—”
“Don’t worry, old man. You must be saved. You are safe here for the night, and you will be warm; also, I have some food. The problem is tomorrow. There are two servants here, and they may be worshipers of the status quo; there is also a bereaved old lady, who hates and fears Americans, and nobody can guess what ideas she may have in her head. I don’t want to ask questions that I shouldn’t, but tell me it you have any plan of escape in mind.”
“I have two contacts in this city; I’m only supposed to have one, but I got another through accident. The trouble is, I am under orders not to seek refuge with any other agent in case of trouble. I’m on my own. You can understand why that is.”
“I understand well enough. I’m supposed to take the same attitude.”
“I’m ready to walk out tonight if you say so, Lanny. I have a little capsule of cyanide, so they won’t get me alive.”
“Let’s think up something better than that, old man. Tell me, do you have any suspicion as to how you were betrayed?”
“Not the slightest. Somebody may have weakened under torture; or somebody may have been an enemy agent posing as our friend.”
“Do you think it can have anything to do with the information I gave you recently?”
“How can I tell? That information was supposed to go out the same night that you gave it. It was carried by a railroad man whose job takes him to Holland and back.”
“Did he have anything in writing?”
“He wasn’t supposed to. They were simple things to remember.”
“Could he by any chance have heard my name?”
“Jesus, no! Wild horses couldn’t have dragged it out of me.”
“Well, then, we have tonight to make our plans. Have you any suggestions?”
“I have been thinking, as well as a half-frozen man could. The first thing, I must have different clothing.”
“I may be able to arrange that. And a passport, I suppose?”
“A passport and an exit permit, though there might be other ways of getting out. I am an old-time sailor, you know.”
“Yes, but it wouldn’t be easy for me to get you a sailor’s oufit; and I’m afraid I can’t get you any papers.”
“Papers were furnished me in Switzerland, and they had come from Berlin. The same group that attended to that could do it again.”
“Have you a contact with them?”
“The individual who has been sending out my information would know about the passport. It is a question, of course, whether the police have caught that person, too. I have to go and try to find out; if I don’t come back, you will know that I have been caught—and that I have taken the capsule. I shall have it already in my mouth.”
II
The two men lay whispering for hours, canvassing every aspect of Monck’s situation, and of Lanny’s. Any moving about that the German did would have to be at night, and he had the idea of taking Lanny’s suit and overcoat and going at once to make his contact. He would have to be there personally, to put his fingerprints on the documents. Lanny vetoed this suggestion for several reasons. His suit, which had been purchased in New York, and his overcoat, which had been purchased in Tunisia and was of French make, were “dead give-aways” for the Gestapo; and they would be extremely active that night, stopping all wayfarers and searching them carefully. By the next night they might have decided that the criminal had found a hiding place or had escaped from the city.
“Listen, Vetterl,” whispered Lanny—for when you are taking up an alias you have to get used to it as quickly as possible. “This is what I will tell my hostess in the morning. You are a former employee of my father’s, and I got to know you well in Berlin back in the twenties. The Fürstin met my father then, and this will sound plausible to her.”
“Am I German, or American?”
“You are German. I went to see you and found you just after an air raid. Your home was destroyed and you escaped in your underwear. I put my overcoat on you and brought you here. Will there be anything in the papers about the escape of the butler?”
“The Gestapo doesn’t work that way. The papers warn the public about enemy spies and agents, but they don’t tell about individual cases, especially German nationals. They are not admitting that there are traitors and enemies of the Regierung—it would be too bad for morale.”
“All right then; I can get away with that story. You are not wounded, just suffering from shock and grief—you had a wife and two children and you saw them killed by a falling beam, and they were trapped in the fire. You tried to free them, but it was impossible. You want to stay in this room and sleep, and not be disturbed. That will
do for the first day at any rate.”
“Won’t they be wanting to bring me food?”
“I had food that I had bought, intending to contribute it to tonight’s supper. Now you will eat it. There is a bathroom adjoining, so you do not have to be disturbed. You can lock your door, and sleep or think out your plans.”
“Have you any idea of what to do about clothing?”
“I am quite sure that Hilde—that is the Fürstin—will have clothing that belonged to her husband and her son. She will feel sentimental about it, but will realize that this is an emergency. I will pay her a good price, and that will help, even though she may be too proud to admit it.”
“Tell me about this family,” said Monck alias Vetterl, and Lanny told the details. The old woman brooding in her room and hating all Americans was not so good. Old family servants would doubtless do what the family told them, but could hardly be expected not to gossip. Whatever the conspirators were going to do ought to be done the next night. A bomb-shocked man lying in a room by himself and not calling a doctor might be all right for one day, but surely not indefinitely.
Presidential Mission Page 73