Best of all, as the sleeper they were in was normally only for the use of top officials it had a notice on the window declaring this. In the circumstances it was unlikely that anyone, except one of those high-ranking officials, would disturb them.
For Lotte their great good fortune in obtaining this compartment had another significance. It was to her a sign that this rescue was destined to succeed. Whatever God was looking down, of whatever persuasion, he or she was looking after Hannah.
For the first day the journey was smooth and uninterrupted. On the few occasions the steward entered their compartment Lotte requested that the bed remain down as she often suffered dreadful headaches and may need to lie upon it.
In peacetime the journey to Munich should have been completed in a day. As the railways were a major target for the Allied bombers there were substantial delays as trains were rerouted and tracks repaired. Trains travelled at much less than full speed in order to conserve fuel. Additional stops were made, sometimes unscheduled to pick up freight for transport. These days there was no clear distinction between the freight and passenger train.
They had one tricky moment when a very frail and elderly lady had got on to the train at Jena.
‘Please madam. This lady is too frail to stand. The rest of the train is jam-packed. She needs to sit. Surely you would not deny her that? She is only travelling a few stops and you have plenty of room.’ The steward’s plea was entirely reasonable. With Hannah on board it was dangerous to allow her in. If Lotte refused it could attract comment and unwanted scrutiny. Lotte had no choice. She had to agree.
Fortunately, the woman was almost blind and very hard of hearing so that she did not see Hannah on the folded bed. Nonetheless it was a relief when an hour after joining the train she got up and left, courteously assisted by Peter.
Lotte was tense as the miles rolled slowly by and they gradually got closer to their destination. They passed through towns and cities with names that were familiar, places she had never desired to visit. Some of them she had seen in her time as a film actress and mostly forgotten.
She marvelled at the devastation in Dresden, almost as bad as Berlin it seemed. Likewise in Chemnitz. Other smaller towns seemed completely empty and sad. Some names reminded her of the trip to the border with Berta and Albert. It was ten months since they had parted at Bodensee, the last time they had seen each other. It had been good to speak to her on the telephone. Thankfully Berta had been astute enough to understand the hidden message in her phone call.
* * *
The next day the train rumbled out of the station at Nuremberg. The significance of the name did not escape any on the train. ‘Such a beautiful city and such terrible laws named after it,’ Peter complained bitterly.
Soon they were well into their journey and approaching their final destination of Munich. At least that was their purported destination for now. Once in Munich they would have to change trains to travel to Innsbruck and then find a way to Switzerland. That was a part of the trip they did not look forward to, for it was probable Hannah would have to hide in the trunk for the whole of the journey. With luck in a few hours they would at least reach Munich, as they were now approaching Ingolstadt, the penultimate station.
Suddenly and without warning the train braked sharply. Peter fell against Franz and elsewhere on the train passengers bumped into each other. Peter and Franz ran back into their compartment to check on Lotte and Hannah.
‘What’s wrong? Why have we stopped?’ Lotte asked. ‘We are not at a station.’ They were still several hundred metres from Ingolstadt.
Peter pulled down the window of the train and leaned down to look out along the tracks. There was nothing ahead of them, except other trains. ‘I can’t see anything blocking the way,’ he shouted back through the open window.
As the familiar roar of the Hurricane engine erupted above him, the cause of their sudden stop became clear. A bomber had been spotted. It was a surprise to them all as daytime raids normally concentrated on more important industrial targets and this was ostensibly just a passenger train. As Peter leaned out of the window a train conductor knocked on the door of the carriage.
‘Everyone off the train immediately! Quickly out! To the shelter! Follow the other passengers!’ he ordered. As soon as the train had stopped Hannah had quickly and expertly climbed into the trunk for the first time since being carried onto the train at Berlin. Peter could see the look of panic in Lotte’s eyes. They could not just leave Hannah in the trunk. It could only be opened from the outside and an air raid was in progress.
‘I can’t leave,’ Lotte pleaded. ‘Please let me stay here.’ For once she seemed to be losing her composure.
Her mood worsened when the conductor replied, ‘It is much too dangerous. I have authority to order you off the train and I do order you to leave.’
Before Lotte could respond with any other argument, Peter had stepped away from the carriage window and said authoritatively:
‘Listen, Herr Conductor. My cousin, the lady will go with you, I will stay with Franz. As you see he has been wounded. He was in a submarine at the time and so is terrified of confined spaces. If you force him out with other passengers he will go beserk and panic everyone else. I will stay with him and make sure he is safe.’
‘But, but I…,’ the conductor attempted to reply.
His sentence was unfinished when Peter added: ‘Look he is a war hero. If you wish to endanger both him and all those women and children, then do so. Remember you will be held accountable.’
‘Okay. But you are responsible for your own safety.’ The conductor relented and escorted Lotte off the train and into the air raid shelter at the nearby station.
The air raid was brief but terrifying nonetheless. The bombers had indeed been making their way to another target. One had been struck by a hail of bullets from a German stukka and lost fuel. On its return journey it had come across the train station, always a worthwhile target and decided to drop its load.
For Lotte, the half hour she spent in the dingy, cramped air raid shelter was the worst of her life. The prospect that Peter, Franz and Hannah could be killed by the Allies was too much to bear. Especially after everything they had already been through. She struggled to stay calm when finally the all-clear sounded. She was so anxious to get back to her family she almost knocked over several other passengers in her struggle to exit the shelter. She raced back along the tracks, cursing her stylish, if impractical shoes all the way.
As she neared the train she was relieved to see that it was seemingly undamaged.
‘Oh my darling girl! You’re safe! Thank God!’ Lotte held Hannah close to her. She was back in the compartment. The little girl had been secure in her trunk, completely unaware of the danger.
The train had sustained no direct hits, although ahead one side of the tracks was warped and misshapen. The station was virtually destroyed. There were no casualties and so the journey could continue, though more slowly now as trains would have to take turns at passing through the station in opposite directions.
After another three hours the train pulled into Munich station. A relieved Lotte alighted along with Peter and Franz. On a luggage trolley they pulled two suitcases and a large trunk. Inside the trunk Hannah played her new game perfectly. If she could stay absolutely still and remain silent, Lotte had promised her a big chocolate cake. She made no sound.
Lotte approached a guard. ‘When is the next train to Innsbruck?’ The reply was unexpected.
‘I am sorry Madam. There are no more trains to Innsbruck today. You will have to try tomorrow.’
‘No we must get to Innsbruck today!’ Lotte said.
‘I am sorry madam there are no more trains today and I am certain you will not get there by any other means. I suggest you find a hotel for the night, before all the rooms are taken.’
There was nothing else for it other than to find a hotel. Hannah could not stay imprisoned overnight. After a few enquiries they located a small est
ablishment a short distance from the station. It was quite run down, but clean and more comfortable than the station. Lotte wondered why it was so empty as so many trains had been cancelled or delayed. She discovered the reason when asked to settle the cost of the stay in advance. It was almost four times the normal price, well beyond most Germans’ means.
‘I’m sorry we have no porter at the moment. Why not leave your trunk here at reception? It will save the young men lugging it up all those stairs.’ The hotel receptionist’s suggestion would ordinarily have been most welcome. Lotte did not reply. Peter stepped forward.
‘Thank you. We can manage.’
The receptionist looked on in surprise as the other heavily wounded sailor lifted the trunk with ease.
As soon as they were in the bedroom they opened the trunk and let out Hannah.
‘Do I get my cake now?’ she asked, a big grin on her face.
‘Not just yet darling,’ Lotte replied. ‘We must all keep very quiet tonight and tomorrow until I say. Aunt Berta will buy you lots of cakes. All right?’
Hannah jumped onto the bed and placed her head in Lotte’s lap. Lotte stroked her hair as she fell asleep. For the rest of the night Hannah was quiet.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Once Hannah had settled into bed, fast asleep and in the watchful care of Peter and Wolfi, Lotte went downstairs to make a phone call. She was relieved to find a phone in the lobby and more relieved to find it was working.
The telephone line burred as Berta’s phone rang. Within seconds Berta’s welcome voice spoke on the other end. They had to be careful what they said.
‘We are in Munich at present,’ Lotte explained, ‘and we do not know when we can get a train to Innsbruck. We are staying in a hotel for tonight and we shall see what we can do tomorrow. We hope to pick up a train then and deliver the special gift I have for you.’
‘My husband is not able to get away at present. He will not be able to collect you from Innsbruck. Perhaps we can meet in Oberstdorf?’ Berta replied.
‘Oberstdorf?’ Lotte said, struggling to hide her devastation. ‘I will see what I can do. I shall ring again tomorrow.’
Berta could hear the disappointment in her voice. In her mind too she could picture Lotte standing in the hotel lobby, phone in hand and a sense of dread on her usually cheerful face. Obesrtdorf was a small village in the Allgäuer Alps and at least eighty kilometres from Munich. Lotte knew it very well. It was sometimes known as the ‘last village in Germany’. It was close to the Austrian border, if still some distance from Switzerland and most worryingly it was still within Germany. Berta knew all too well the town’s significance to Lotte and hoped that her suggestion might be taken up by her good friend, in spite of her reluctance.
The plan had been that Berta’s husband would travel from Switzerland to meet them in Innsbruck. That was for some reason no longer possible. Since they had last spoken Berta had become aware that she was not the only one wanted by the authorities in Berlin. Now they were after her husband as well. He simply could not leave Switzerland.
As Lotte replaced the receiver she heard a second click. As usual she assumed it was the authorities listening in. It soon became clear it was the receptionist.
‘Miss! Miss! May I speak with you?’ the receptionist said, her voice barely audible. ‘I could not help overhearing your conversation,’ she said. Lotte was about to explode in a rage at the absurdity of this statement, when the receptionist’s words caused her to check.
‘My brother has a truck, a lorry that he uses to deliver supplies to the army. If you are able to pay towards his petrol and other expenses, I am sure he can take you, your friends and your luggage to Oberstdorf.’
Lotte was unsure how to respond to this offer. It seemed the perfect solution. Yet she was wary as the receptionist had lied once already. What choice did they have? Perhaps though they could get a lift to somewhere else, anywhere but Oberstdorf.
‘You may find it difficult to get a train there or anywhere else,’ the receptionist added. Lotte was certain they would eventually get a train. The prospect of poor Hannah stuck in the trunk while they awaited a train that might never arrive was too much to contemplate.
‘I will speak to the others and let you know this evening.’ Lotte wanted time to think it through.
The next morning at first light, Peter and Franz were rocking to and fro in the back of a canvas covered truck. Lotte was on the front passenger seat, eyeing the roughly dressed driver suspiciously as the vehicle bumped along the potholed road. Wolfi was strategically placed between Lotte and the driver, something which had caused an argument to begin with.
In the back, and out of the eyeline of the driver, Lotte’s two suitcases and her large trunk were wedged between Peter and Franz and heavy oil drums. The lid of the trunk was partially open and Hannah lay perfectly still, smiling at her friends from time to time. Peter had wrapped her in a blanket as it was winter still and the rear of the truck was open to the elements.
The cost of the journey was much more than even Lotte had anticipated. It was the equivalent of a year’s income for the driver. She had wondered whether they might not have found a driver to take them all the way to Switzerland for that. She had the good sense at least to pay only half the amount at the start.
After an uncomfortable journey of an hour and a half, they pulled into a side road. It was clearly not the way to Oberstdorf.
‘Where are we going? This isn’t the way,’ Lotte protested.
‘I have deliveries to make,’ the driver grunted, not stopping to remove the cigarette from his mouth. Lotte began to feel uneasy.
‘He’s taking us into army barracks,’ she said to herself. They approached the gates to a camp. There was nothing she could do at that moment except hope. She sat quietly, wondering if they were about to be betrayed. After a cursory check the sentry at the barrier waved them through. His lack of interest only increased her worry. ‘They are expecting us,’ she thought.
They were indeed expected. The driver delivered oil regularly to the base. It was quite common to see passengers with him. Everyone was trying to make a little on the side.
The short time the fuel drums took to deliver was torturous for the group of friends. Peter distracted the driver from Hannah’s trunk by helping to roll the heavy drums off the tailgate. Lotte tried not to show her nerves, nerves that only increased when a guard approached the rear of the lorry.
‘Excuse me corporal,’ she shouted over the noisy drums. ‘Excuse me!’ As planned the soldier stopped walking to the back of the truck and turned to the much more enticing Lotte. ‘I have been travelling for some hours now. Is there a bathroom I can use?’ she asked coyly.
‘Of course Miss. If you care to follow me into the guard house?’
From that moment on every soldier in sight of Lotte followed her pronounced walk into the guardroom and her return to the vehicle. Noboody was interested in the back of the truck anymore.
Fifteen minutes later they were back on the main road, having deposited four barrels of the oil. It had been very tense. Luckily, thanks to the distractions, no-one had examined either their papers or luggage. Once more Hannah had performed magnificently and remained motionless and silent in the trunk.
Soon they were approaching the outskirts of Oberstdorf. Virgin snow lay on the ground and the wooden chalets with their steeply sloping roofs looked very pretty. Even the woodpiles were neatly arranged. The village was largely deserted, apart from a few skiers making their way up the slopes. The last time Lotte had driven into this village it was in the luxury of a leather upholstered Mercedes limousine. Now she was the passenger in a beaten up lorry. She didn’t care as long as they were successful.
‘Follow the main street to the hotel Bayrischer Hof. On the market square.’ Lotte’s directions were blunt without any formality or customary German courtesy.
The lorry stopped outside a large hotel on the main market square. It was typically Bavarian in style with wood
en verandahs and balconies and a large overhanging roof. The name ‘Bayrischer Hof’ was just legible as the paintwork had been neglected in recent times.
The driver parked at the main entrance and sprang down from the driver’s seat. Lotte held out the rest of the money he was owed. He ignored her, went straight to the back of the lorry and lowered the tail gate.
Franz jumped onto the frozen ground, and was met by Wolfi and the driver. Peter remained in the back of the lorry and began passing the two suitcases to Franz, one at a time. Neither boy could prevent the lorry driver climbing into the back of the vehicle. He moved quickly to the rear of the cab and grabbed the trunk.
‘It’s all right I can manage that,’ Peter said concerned.
‘Not at all. It’s no bother,’ the driver replied.
He was dragging the trunk roughly along the floor of the cab. Nothing would stop him. He pulled the trunk to the edge of the tailgate. Franz stepped forward to take one end of the trunk. Without any warning the driver dropped the leading end onto the hard ground.
‘Ow!’
A high-pitched noise, but soft, like a puppy’s yelp came from the trunk. At the same time the frame of the trunk made a cracking sound. If the driver heard Hannah’s cry, his face did not betray him. The deafness that had kept him out of the war had temporarily saved little Hannah.
The driver was genuinely surprised. The trunk weighed more than he expected. From the outset he had been suspicious, supposing the trunk to contain contraband goods or maybe large quantities of cash to be smuggled over the border. By its weight it was not currency, nor was it cigarettes. Maybe it was gold or diamonds? This snooty cow clearly had money to burn looking at her fancy clothes. Whatever was in the trunk, he was going to find out.
‘Let’s see what you are all so concerned about,’ the driver said and leaned over to prise open the locks.
‘Grrrr!’ Wolfi had other ideas and pushed past Franz in front of the driver, growling and flashing his fangs at the same time.
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