Fighting with Shadows

by Beryl Matthews

  He sighed and rubbed his temple. Perhaps he should go back and find her again. When they had met, he had been worried to distraction about his family, and he had simply taken advantage of the comfort she had offered. Had he loved her? Had he been capable of love at that point?

  It had given him a terrible jolt hearing the Major ask for her favourite tune. He could picture her now, legs curled under her in the armchair, and her bright smile as she’d asked every evening for ‘Stardust’. How they had all laughed. She never tired of hearing the song, and he hadn’t played it again until tonight.

  How long had it been since he’d laughed like that? Sadness welled up inside him – not just for himself but for everyone who was still finding it hard to come to terms with their losses, whatever side they had been fighting on.

  Dieter turned and buried his head in the pillow and, for the first time, allowed the cleansing tears to flow.

  12

  The letter to John and Hetty was done and Bob sealed it. It was just to tell them that he had found Dieter and was trying to persuade him to return to England. He didn’t hold out much hope, but assured them that he’d kept his promise and not mentioned Danny, or that Jane was dead.

  Bob regretted he’d agreed to that now, but he wouldn’t break his word, and if Dieter refused to go back, it would probably be for the best that he didn’t know. One thing was for sure, though: if Dieter was going to stay in Germany, Bob would see that he was looked after and given every chance to pull his life together. Of all the prisoners, Dieter Cramer had been the one who had impressed him the most.

  ‘Here we are, sir.’ Hunt appeared, arms full of clothing. ‘The things you requisitioned.’

  Bob checked through them: socks, underclothes, jumpers, shirts, all army issue, but, from what he’d seen, Dieter had only the clothes he stood up in, so he wouldn’t be fussy. And they had been given to him on repatriation. Bob could recognize the old demob suit anywhere.

  ‘What size shoes does he take, sir?’

  ‘No idea.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Hunt eyed Bob up and down. ‘He’s about your height, so why don’t we take several sizes with us? If you’ll sign the chitty, I’ll get them now.’

  After putting his name to the necessary form, Bob opened his wardrobe door. He hadn’t brought many civilian clothes with him, but he might find something to fit Dieter. Hunt was right: he was about the same height as him but much thinner. He pulled out a dark blue suit. This might fit if he used braces to hold up the trousers. He rummaged in a drawer and found a pair. The weather was getting colder now, so a topcoat would be essential; he doubted Dieter had such a thing. He was still pondering the problem when Hunt returned.

  ‘Three pairs of shoes, various sizes, sir.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Bob frowned. ‘What’s that you’ve got over your arm?’

  ‘An army greatcoat, sir.’ Hunt looked a picture of innocence. ‘It was just hanging around; no one seemed to want it.’

  ‘Hanging around where?’ Bob pulled a face and held up his hand. ‘No, don’t tell me. I’d rather not know.’

  Hunt put the coat on the pile of clothes. ‘Pardon me for asking, sir, but are you going to get away with this?’

  ‘I’ve had a word with the Colonel and explained the situation. I told him Cramer is one of my ex-prisoners so I’m naturally concerned for his welfare.’

  ‘Really, sir?’ Hunt didn’t look as if he believed this.

  Bob nodded as a smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. The Corporal was no fool and knew him too well. ‘He was very understanding after six whiskies at two o’clock this morning.’

  ‘Ah, well, he would have been, sir.’

  They both grinned. The Colonel’s fondness for the drink was legendary.

  ‘We going to give these things to Cramer tonight, sir?’

  ‘No, we’ll do it now. There’s always a chance he’ll have made up his mind already.’

  When the door opened to Bob’s insistent knocking, he couldn’t believe his eyes. ‘My God, man, you look terrible. What the hell have you been doing?’

  Dieter stepped aside to let them in, watching in disbelief as Hunt dumped a huge pile of clothing on his unmade bed. He hadn’t bothered to answer Bob’s question.

  The Corporal held up the suit jacket. ‘The clothes should fit, sir, but what size shoe do you take?’

  ‘Ten, English size.’

  ‘Ah, we’ve got those, I think.’ After sorting through the packets, he held up a pair of black shoes for Dieter.

  ‘See if they fit you, sir.’

  ‘What the hell is this all about? And don’t keep calling me “sir”!’

  Bob thought it was time to intervene. Dieter obviously wasn’t pleased about their interfering. ‘He calls everyone “sir”. He’s a cheeky sod and thinks that if he tacks “sir” on to the end of every sentence he’ll be safe. You need the clothes, and just about everything else, by the look of you.’

  The shoes were hanging from Dieter’s long fingers, his eyes wary. ‘Is this an inducement to make me go back to England?’

  ‘There are no conditions. As incredible as it may seem, we only want to help.’ Bob’s irritation grew. Did the man believe he would resort to bribery? ‘Whatever decision you come to, I’ll accept. It will be up to you. Now, stop arguing and see if the things fit!’

  ‘Stop ordering me around! You are not my gaoler now, Major!’ Dieter’s glare was hostile. ‘I don’t have to take bloody orders from you any more.’

  Never having been the most patient of men, Bob’s temper snapped. It was impossible to help some people. But this one was going to be helped, even if he had to knock some sense into him. ‘No, but you still need a kick up the backside, Cramer. Look at the way you’re living, and with your intelligence you shouldn’t be playing piano in a bar. Stop drifting and pull your life together. You’re not the only one to have suffered in this bloody war!’

  ‘What right have you got to be so judgemental?’ In his fury the usually excellent English slipped and he reverted to German, snarling a string of abuse. ‘This is a palace compared to some hovels people are living in. Or haven’t you noticed, Herr Commandant?’

  ‘I’ve noticed.’ Bob stepped up to him, barely resisting the temptation to shake the man until his teeth rattled. ‘And I’m bloody well sick to my stomach that I can’t help everyone. That’s going to take time. Total war is a damned messy business, but I can help you. So stop being so pig-headed and accept a hand held out in friendship.’

  Corporal Hunt had pushed his way between the two men. ‘Now, now, sirs, you’ll have the Redcaps here if you keep shouting like this, and we don’t want that, do we?’ He gently elbowed Bob out of the way and turned to face Dieter. ‘Don’t you take no notice of the Major, sir. He gets a bit uppity at times, but his heart’s in the right place. Why don’t you try the shoes on, sir? Real good they are. Chose them myself.’

  Bob saw the funny side of the situation and started to laugh at the antics of Hunt. ‘All right, Corporal, you’ve made your point. There’s no need to bang our heads together.’ He lifted his hands in surrender to Dieter. ‘I apologize. Take the clothes if you need them, or tell me to sod off and I won’t bother you again.’

  ‘Oh, I need them, Major.’ Dieter gave a wry smile and held his hand out. ‘Thank you, I am grateful.’

  Bob shook his hand and smiled in relief. He’d nearly ruined any chance of getting Dieter back to England by losing his temper. He should have realized that the man still had his pride and made allowances for that, not tried to order him around as if he were still a prisoner. Those days were over. It was only natural that Dieter would take offence. He studied his former prisoner as he tried on the shoes, remembering him as a quiet, thoughtful man – no, boy – he’d been little more than a boy when he had been captured, and only around twenty-four when Bob had met him. He couldn’t be more than twenty-nine now but looked much older. Hardly surprising when you considered that he had been a prisoner since 1941 and that
it had been six years before he’d been repatriated. He could only guess at the grief and hardship he had faced since returning to his own country – a country torn apart as the Allied troops had fought their way through it.

  ‘These fit perfectly.’ Dieter stood and walked up and down, smiling at Hunt. ‘You chose well, Corporal.’

  ‘Thank you, sir. Try the suit on now. The one you’ve been wearing is on its last legs.’

  Dieter raised an eyebrow. ‘What do these sayings mean – “last legs” and “uppity”?’

  ‘It means the suit’s worn out, and’ – Hunt lowered his voice and bent towards Dieter – ‘uppity means the Major gets a bit above himself sometimes. Got a short fuse, but you don’t want to take no notice of that, sir. It shows he’s got a heart, but he does his best to hide it, of course.’

  Bob leant against the wall with his arms folded, watching Hunt placate Dieter, content to let him do what he was good at as he urged him into the suit. He’d deal with him later! The jacket was on the big side, but looked even larger because the man was so thin – it looked as if he hadn’t had a good meal in months. Bob had tossed in one of his best ties and a white shirt. The effect was a huge improvement on the clothes Dieter had been wearing.

  ‘There.’ Hunt stood back and nodded in admiration. ‘Real smart you looks now. Some regular food and you’ll soon fill out to fit the suit.’ He glanced at Bob. ‘Did you say you was taking the gentleman to lunch, sir?’

  He hadn’t, but that was a good idea. It would give him more chance to talk Dieter round to returning to England. ‘I did, and as soon as he’s had a shave you can drive us back to HQ.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ He grinned at Dieter. ‘The grub ain’t bad in the officers’ mess.’

  Bob pushed himself away from the wall. ‘We’ll wait outside for you.’

  When Dieter nodded, they returned to the car.

  ‘You should have been a diplomat, Corporal.’

  ‘Had to do something, sir. I thought you was coming to blows. That man wasn’t in no mood to have you throwing your weight around – if you’ll pardon me saying so, sir. He didn’t take kindly to you ordering him around again. You ain’t gonna get him back to England like that.’

  ‘I have a nasty feeling we won’t be able to persuade him whatever we do.’ Bob sighed, his brow furrowed with concern, remembering the little boy, and the lovely girl who had taken on the responsibility of bringing him up on her own.

  ‘He ain’t got nothing here.’ Hunt held open the car door so Bob could get in the back. ‘Couldn’t you tell him about his son?’

  ‘I’m afraid not. I promised the Sawyers, and deep down I think they may be right. If he knew, he would probably storm back, upsetting Angie and Danny.’

  ‘Ah, I see what you mean, sir. Introduce him slowly, giving him time to adjust.’ Hunt nodded. ‘Might be best all round.’

  ‘Angie will need time to adjust as well.’

  ‘Indeed, sir, mustn’t forget the nice young girl. If he does turn up in Somerset, it won’t be easy for her.’ Hunt sprang out of the car as Dieter came towards them, holding the door open so he could get in the back with the Major.

  They didn’t speak much. Dieter seemed withdrawn and troubled, so Bob left him to his thoughts, not wanting to say or do anything that would antagonize him. Cramer was in a mess, mentally and physically, and one wrong move by Bob would send him into the under-growth. Hunt had stumbled across him by an incredible stroke of luck. If he disappeared again, they might never find him.

  After seeing that Dieter had a decent meal inside him, Bob lit a cigarette and held out the packet, surveying him through the smoke. ‘Have you given any thought to going back to England?’

  Dieter took the cigarette he was offered but didn’t light it. ‘I have given it a great deal of thought, but I can’t leave Germany until I definitely know if my parents and sister are dead.’

  ‘Surely you would have heard from them if they had been alive?’ It was gently put, as Bob could see that he was having trouble accepting this.

  ‘But what if they did try, and in the chaos after the bombing, their letters never reached me?’ Dieter leant forward, his face etched with pain. ‘I know you think me foolish to hope, and I am inclined to agree with you, but there is nothing to show me they perished in the raids. No one appears to know exactly how many died. The figures being banded about are thirty thousand to over one hundred thousand. I must know for sure. Until then I cannot let this nightmare go.’

  ‘Have you tried the Red Cross?’

  ‘Of course I have.’ Irritation crossed Dieter’s face. ‘There are thousands looking for their relatives. It will take years to deal with this terrible situation.’

  Bob pulled a small notebook out of his pocket. ‘Let me see if I can help. Give me your family details.’

  When Dieter had done this, he paused. ‘I have little hope that my parents are alive, but I pray that if anyone has survived it is my sister. Her name is Gerda and she would now be eighteen. She was only nine years old when I was taken prisoner.’

  ‘Leave it with me and I’ll see if there’s any news. In the meantime I want you to consider going back to the Sawyers.’

  ‘Thank you for your help, Major, but I will not leave until all hope has vanished.’ Dieter shook his head sadly. ‘I cannot get on with my life until I know.’

  ‘You want proof.’ Bob nodded understandingly.

  ‘Yes.’ Dieter whispered the word.

  For the next few days, the problem of whether to stay or to return to England was constantly on Dieter’s mind. He had told the Major he couldn’t leave until he knew what had happened to his parents and sister, but deep in his heart he already knew. They must be dead or they would have contacted him somehow; but he couldn’t seem to accept that. And until he did, he wouldn’t be able to decide what to do with his life. Not knowing what had happened to them was the hardest part. It was like an open wound that would not heal until he had some kind of proof.

  The Major obviously wasn’t having any more luck than he’d had, or he would have been in touch before now. He hadn’t seen a sign of him since he had arrived with the clothes. No, if the Major with all his connections had not been able to find them, they were gone. It was time he accepted that fact.

  His fingers swept over the keys with practised ease. He had always been passionate about his music, and even at his most troubled it could calm him, lifting his mood. It was a lifesaver for him.

  The bar was extra busy tonight, but he was oblivious to the activity around him, oblivious to the laughter and hum of people talking.

  He bowed his head and lost himself in the music.

  13

  Ten days and still nothing. Bob prowled round his office. He’d pulled every string possible to get priority in tracing Dieter’s family, but all the organizations that dealt with this had a mammoth task on their hands. It seemed as if almost everyone in Europe was looking for someone. People had been dragged from their homes, and even countries, into forced labour and the horror of the concentration camps. Then there was the destruction caused in the fight to defeat Hitler. Some poor souls had lost their identity, not even knowing or caring who they were.

  Bob stared moodily out of the window, with unseeing eyes, when Hunt came in. He turned his head. ‘Has the mail arrived yet?’

  ‘Don’t know, sir. Shall I check?’

  He nodded, turned back to the window and waited. He had been aware that it would take years to rebuild and for life to return to something like normal, but it wasn’t until he had arrived in Germany that he’d realized the full extent of the task facing them. It was huge, but progress was being made in some areas. There was still so much to do, though.

  ‘It had just arrived, sir.’ Hunt soon returned with a pile of envelopes in his hand. ‘A letter from the Red Cross there.’

  ‘Let’s hope they’ve found something.’ He slit open the letter and read it quickly, frowning as he did so. Then he stuffed it in his pocket and
grabbed his hat, already striding out. ‘Get the car.’

  Hunt caught him up and fell into step beside him. ‘Is there news, sir?’

  ‘It might be a glimmer of hope.’

  Once in the car Bob reread the letter. A Gerda Kramer had been traced. The spelling was different, but that could merely be a clerical error. The age was right, but where she was now was the most interesting detail.

  ‘You come in with me,’ Bob said as he got out of the car. ‘You can pull us apart again if we look like resorting to blows.’

  Hunt grinned. ‘Pleasure, sir.’

  Dieter opened the door and wordlessly stepped aside to let them in. Once in his room, he turned and faced them, his expression taut. ‘You have some news?’

  ‘The Red Cross have traced a Gerda Kramer, spelt with a “K”. The age is right, but would she have used that spelling for your family name?’

  ‘I don’t see why, but it might just be a mistake on the records. It would easily be done. Where is she?’

  There was hope gleaming in his eyes and Bob couldn’t help feeling uneasy. If it wasn’t his sister, could this man take another crushing disappointment? ‘She’s in York, England.’

  Dieter’s eyes opened wide in surprise, and after no more than a split second he lunged for a bag on the top of his wardrobe. Throwing it on the bed, he began to stuff clothes into it, not bothering to fold them. ‘She’s looking for me. I was in a camp up there for a while. She might have remembered that.’

  ‘Hold it!’ Bob caught Dieter’s arm to stop him packing. ‘The rest of the letter says that if you haven’t heard from your family in all this time, then they almost certainly perished.’

  ‘Almost!’ Dieter shook off Bob’s hand. ‘There is doubt. I must find out. Did they give you an address for her?’