by M. Ben Yanay
“Pants on the right, shirts on the left,” one of the gendarmes, who were registering the equipment, told him. “Two of each. You take a coat from one of the shelves. Shoes—according to your size, or just about—whatever you find in the piles. You’ll find hats in the crates. There are no socks today. Come back to me to sign for the items.”
Janos did not get a chance to respond. He wanted to ask what he should do with the clothes he was wearing, but the black haired young man took his place, his face beaming.
There was plenty of commotion in the hall. Janos went here and there, unsure where to go first. He soon settled himself and began to take his clothes off. He then changed his mind and went into the other room. He put the pants he found on top of the pants he was already wearing. He put his military shirt on top of the shirt he was wearing, too. He held on to his extra uniform. He sat by the large pile of shoes for a long while until he found a pair that was a bit large for his size, but nevertheless decided to take, thinking he could add some straw in each shoe. Janos then went over to one of the shelves and picked up a large coat. He wore the hat he found, and returned to the gendarme with his uniform in hand. The gendarme gave him a backpack to put his clothes in.
The gendarme then opened up a large notebook. “Name?”
Janos replied.
“Sign here.”
“Now, go up to the main hall,” the gendarme ordered him and sent him forth.
*
It was almost noon when a supply vehicle arrived at the police station. Janos was among the new recruits who rushed over to it. A group of gendarmes made its way through them and ordered them to sit and wait. The truck’s doors opened, giving off a whiff of some dish. It was only at that moment that Janos began to be painfully aware of his hunger.
The gendarmes began dishing out the food portions. Each soldier received half a loaf of bread and a tin cup. “That’s for the soup,” the gendarmes said. He ate voraciously and could hardly wait for the soup. When it finally came, it was lukewarm and watery, yet he drank it quickly. The gendarmes ordered them to keep the cup in their rucksacks, saying, “You can’t have soup without your cup.”
When the food line was over and done, the truck locked its doors, and the recruits were told to finish up, as they were all about to be taken to the barracks.
The senior officer who had taken Janos from the cell in the basement appeared on the police station’s balcony and told them to form a line three people wide.
“The train is at the station. Those who do not board it will be imprisoned.”
As Janos rose to his feet, two soldiers stood right next to him, absent-mindedly. Those thin boys looked no older than sixteen. Their sideburns and stubble were so faint, it was obvious they had never even shaved. He looked at them as though they were his younger brothers. He felt really sorry for them.
The new recruits were marched in a parade of threes at a time through the streets down to the train station. The people stood on either side of the road and waved at them, cheering. As they approached Kossuth Street, Janos’s heart began beating fast. The closer they got to his home, the faster his heart went. When they passed by Number 49, he looked up to the second story windows and raised his hand. For a moment, he thought he had seen a figure up there.
Yes, that’s my Terry, a thought shimmered. Can you see me? It’s me. Don’t worry, dear. I shall return quickly from this damn war.
*
Armed guards were posted at the train station. The recruits passed them by on their way to the tracks, where closed-up cars had been awaiting them. The cars had narrow shafts at the top. Two armed guards were standing by each train car. When the order was issued, the doors opened one by one. The lines of three became a long line of recruits climbing their way in. The floor of each car was covered in moist hay. Janos sat, his rucksack on his shoulder, and leaned against the wall, facing forward.
He suddenly woke up terrified. He was aching all over, but more than anything else, he had longed for his wife and kids. “Where are we?” he asked, worried.
“You can go right back to sleep,” Bob reassured him. “I have everything in hand.”
12. “Lexy” on the Bridge
The sky cleared right before the locomotive turned and ran alongside a road paved into the side of a mountain. The two parallel tracks were clear of any snow. Right next to them, on the parallel road to their right, they saw German vehicles and lines of soldiers. On their left, nearly close enough to touch, stood a low, white wall, beyond which ran the river.
“There’s a tunnel up ahead!” Ina warned Bob. “I hope the tracks continue further on.”
“Can you see the road?” Janos was still lying at the back of the train engine. He was so tired; his mind was still mostly grasping at his evaporating dream.
Ina strained looking beyond the window. Her head brushed against it. “I cannot make out. The road was paved along the side of the tunnel we’re climbing.”
“I bet it will come down soon. What goes up must come down.” Bob laughed. “But hey, I can see the end of the tunnel now; the train’s beam clearly shows its end.”
“Quite a short tunnel,” Janos remarked.
“We’re out,” Bob announced. “Yeah, it was pretty short.”
The tunnel was behind them; Ina recalled the bridges Bob talked about and asked, “So, are we close to the bridges you saw on the map?”
“Yes. To the best of my recollection, the first bridge is near. But go figure, maybe it was bombed.”
“But,” Ina was truly concerned. “Maybe they didn’t blow up the road? Maybe it’s still running along the bridge?”
“I don’t think so. I remember the bridge was strictly for trains. I believe the road turns west right before the bridge and continues a few miles until a wider bridge, which is probably for vehicles, too. If the train’s bridge was blown up, we will have to stop and continue our way together with the Germans.”
“And if the other bridge was also bombed, will they be joining us on the tracks?”
“I can’t tell; I’m no prophet. Let’s continue as long as we’re safe on the tracks.”
“From past experience, I can say neither side in this war wants to destroy bridges and roads,” Janos commented and rose slowly. “I have been in combat zones. Keeping the road intact is important to the victors, even if the losing side uses it to flee.”
“And what if the partisans take action? After all, they do not take anyone into account,” Ina commented. “They’re even willing to blow themselves up if they see no other choice.”
“In my opinion, you’re wrong,” said Janos. “I believe the partisans, too, follow orders. Maybe they’re under orders from Moscow or somewhere else, I do not know. Nevertheless, they do not operate on their own in the major theaters of the war.”
The bridge appeared as they were talking. It was a marvelous sight. The iron arch and metal mesh glistened in the beams of light that came through the occasional gaps between the clouds. The bridge that connected the stone cliffs on either side of the busy gorge was supported by four mighty columns whose bases were islands of cement at the bottom of the river. The bridge looked like a giant rainbow whose back consisted of two stretched out parallel tracks.
Anti-aircraft guns were positioned on the cliff to the right. They were camouflaged by a green and brown net. The cliff on the left was home to a fusiliers’ squad, sheltered behind a brick wall complete with firing shafts. The post was facing the bridge. The vehicles continued up the road, turning sharply west, leaving this bridge on their way to the next one, traveling on an oblique route extended the journey.
Janos, Bob and Ina could not believe their eyes. Bands of soldiers huddled right in front of the bridge. Though it was designed exclusively for trains, it was now completely run over by marching soldiers. Hundreds of them were now walking on the tracks in a long disheveled column that illustrated a clear and outright defeat.
Janos slowed the engine down and hit the brakes.
&n
bsp; “What shall we do?” asked Ina, concerned.
“Damn,” Bob cursed angrily.
“We’ll just have to carve our way out,” said Janos. “There’s no choice. We will drive slow and use the horn. We’ll force them to clear the tracks. The soldiers guarding from above would not suspect an innocent locomotive moving freely among hundreds of soldiers. We can let these poor wretches climb the locomotive.”
“What?!” Ina was taken aback. “Are you crazy? Let them catch a ride on Lexy?”
“Janos is right; that is what we should do. It would look natural to them, and they’ll be of use to us.”
“I don’t get it. Are you two serious?”
“Yes, Ina,” Bob replied. “Like Janos said, we do not have a choice. They will serve us as camouflage.”
“I see. Ok, fine. Let’s move.”
Janos started the engine. He kept the speed minimal, and Ina pulled the cable that dangled from the ceiling. The engine sounded a short siren. She let it echo away and then pulled again. One horn reverberated after another. They approached the bridge slowly. There were small taps on the door. A Wehrmacht officer climbed aboard and took a peek through the window. He motioned to Janos to open the door. Bob and Ina jumped behind the furnace. Janos opened the door, and the officer clung to the frame, held on tightly, and climbed the front of the locomotive. He began waving and yelling at the soldiers, “Clear the tracks! Clear the tracks! Clear! Clear!”
Janos pulled the handle and closed the door. The engine’s slow approach lured the tired soldiers. Some of them climbed the back ladder: others followed the officer and helped him by waving passionately. Other soldiers climbed the ladders and stood on either side.
What a surreal sight for the guards on the cliff: a slow moving locomotive with soldiers hanging on either side, along with a Wehrmacht officer and other soldiers waving. The engine moved through the column of soldiers with many soldiers still behind. The fusiliers did not even imagine this was a stolen locomotive, and none of what they saw looked suspicious. After half an hour’s ride over the bridge, they passed the guards’ posts. The commander was already standing there waiting and motioned them to stop. Janos steered the engine forward slowly and then stopped right next to the commander. The locomotive blew its cloud of steam, filling the place with thick fog. The Wehrmacht officer leaped to the side of the road and the two accompanying soldiers jumped off as well. The officer exchanged a few shouts with the commander, both ordering the soldiers to step off and continue on foot. The locomotive was thus free again and the fog dispersed.
Beyond the bridge lay the paved road, and on it traveled the German vehicles. The column of soldiers walked steadily on either side.
Janos turned back. “Friends, you can come out from your hole now.” He laughed in relief and speeded up. The engine soared ahead. Ina pulled the siren cable, saying, “This is the sound of victory.”
“I’m starving,” Bob said. “It would be absurd if I died of hunger now.”
“We’re better off than they are,” Ina consoled him.
“You are right, my dear, but nevertheless, I’m still starving.”
13. Magda von Keitel
Junior officer von Keitel, a distant relative of SS-Obersturmbannführer [a rank equivalent to Lt. Colonel] Karl-Heinz von Keitel, was given the post of commander of the security unit at the large train depot outside Strasshof. Over the three years that had passed since his appointment, von Keitel lived with his wife in a house that was commandeered for him by the party. Nearly all the residents of the classy neighborhood were officers who outranked him, so he benefitted from the proximity and sent his wife to rub shoulders with their wives. Magda relished the tranquil life they made in the quiet town and seized social opportunity when it presented itself. At first, she had to come with all sorts of ploys and excuses to initiate contact. She would not hesitate to knock on the door asking for sugar here or to consult about the best cure for a bunion on her foot there. Once, she asked for a recipe for fluffy cornbread. Another time, she asked to make sure she knew the correct time, as her own wristwatch stopped. She always smiled and kept her language proper the whole time. It was not long before nearly all the officers’ wives in the neighborhood had gotten to know her. The polite smiles on the street soon became waving hands over the yard’s fence. When she discovered most of the bored wives loved to read, she initiated a book-of-the-week club in her own living room. Each participant was asked to choose a passage they were particularly impressed by and read it out to the others. Magda herself preferred to be in charge of current affairs in the group and read articles from the Völkischer Beobachter [literally The People’s Observer, the Nazi party’s daily newspaper], edited by Alfred Rosenberg and Wilhelm Weiss.
During her youth, Magda was an enthusiastic member in the Hitlerjugend, the Nazi party’s youth movement, in her native town of Munich. It was there that she met Ludwig von Keitel, four years her senior, whom she later married. They both adored Adolf Hitler and took pride in three posters of him, which they hung on the walls of their house. “Here’s Hitler with his beautiful mistress Eva Brown, here he is with his favorite dog, and here he is with his staff officers.”
Alongside these photographs, they hung a photograph of General von Keitel, whom her husband referred to as “Uncle Willie,” as well as photographs of herself and Ludwig waving the party flag as Hitlerjugend members and a photograph taken on the day of their marriage.
From the outside, the von Keitel’s residence looked like a model home, complete with its red roof and well-kept garden. Spring challenged winter and nurtured fresh bloom, green rosebushes, and grass, which rose through the snow and gained precious glimpses of sunlight.
Terry was invited several times and was even let into the bedroom as Magda tried her new frocks on. They always needed to be taken in along the backside. During Terry’s last visit, the walls were naked. A large suitcase was laid on the floor, and Magda, who was usually congenial, displayed an obvious degree of impatience.
“I’m going on a journey,” she said. “I require an inner pocket deep in the lining of my winter overcoat.”
“Yes, madam,” Terry obliged, and thought to herself, The rats are deserting the sinking ship.
“The pocket needs to be sturdy and well hidden. You know how it is these days… Who knows who you might run into? One has to be careful.”
“Of course, madam.” Terry then added sheepishly, “And where are you going, Frau von Keitel?”
“On a family visit, to my parents in Munich,” Magda went on. “But it will only be the first stop on my journey. I do not mean to share with you my entire plan.”
“Certainly, madam.”
“I’m taking this evening’s train. The pocket needs to be sewn and done in the next few hours. Here’s the fabric. It matches the lining. When you are done sewing it, you need to secure it to the lining.”
“What size do you require the pocket to be?” Terry asked in a practical manner.
Magda thought for a long while and then decided: “Thirty centimeters [nearly twelve inches] long and twenty centimeters [nearly eight inches] wide.”
*
The night before, after the reading club concluded and she was busy washing the glasses and contemplating her good fortune, Ludwig returned directly from the evening shift with a gloomy face. She meant to tell him she was late this month and certain she was pregnant this time. But the look on his face and the things he told her dissuaded her from sharing with him her good news.
He told her the Western Allies had captured Munich and that they were now heading fast for Berlin. “This is the end,” he said and sighed heavily. He lit a cigarette and blew the smoke right into her astonished face.
“The end of what?” she asked and turned to continue washing the glasses as though she did not understand what he was saying.
“The end of the war, you silly woman!” he scolded her.
“I really do not fully understand you, Ludwig.”
�
��Then you really are stupid. Berlin will be captured in a matter of days. In fact, we have been beaten already. Our only resort is to flee.”
“Run away from here? Why?”
“Yeah, if you’d like to live,” he smiled bitterly and made a nasty face. “Run away from the Communists. I’ve already made all the preparations. I made false papers, passports, and everything. We must clear off before the Russians reach Vienna. Starting tomorrow night, we’re Austrian citizens, born in Vienna. You’ll have to learn all the details by heart and remember them in case you are asked any questions. We’ll be leaving by the night train along with the families of our friends Oberleutnant [First Lieutenant] von Higens and Hauptmann [Captain] Oster. I already organized our escape route to Switzerland.”
*
Magda von Keitel wasn’t as foolish as her husband thought. She only played dumb to make him feel he knew it all. In fact, she kept her ears to the ground—or more accurately, to the radio, to the Western Allies’ bulletins in English and German, on the stations she was able to locate when she was home alone. She understood a little English by studying on her own, and felt she knew about the secret aspects of the war better than her husband. She had known for quite some time now the war was over. She did not share her knowledge or her thoughts with him, just as she did not confide in her fellow women friends, whom she considered gullible. She took no measures whatsoever. As the wife of a Wehrmacht officer, and as the relative of a high-ranking general, she enjoyed the good life during the war and was not about to part with the comforts she relished. She was proud to be an Aryan and proud of her husband and his relations. Her faith in the Führer and her admiration for him did not wane despite what Germany had descended to during his reign. Magda accepted the possibility of Germany’s defeated regrettably. If we are doomed to surrender, she thought, then let’s do so with our heads held high. Running away and using false papers didn’t even occur to her. She resigned herself to her fate and acquiesced to paying the price like any other German. Then here comes her husband, turning the tables on her. Though she found his words objectionable at first, her obedience and loyalty toward him proved useful. She had already begun to contemplate the adventures she might run into during the planned escape.