by Mary Hagen
When young new pilots didn’t return from a mission, his heart became sick. He should be flying, taking on missions with his experience. Maybe, the men who didn’t return wouldn’t have been lost. Instead of joining his comrades in visits to villages around them, he sat in his make-do barracks and worked with the tennis ball. When he was on duty, he kept the ball with him and rolled and squeezed it every free minute he had.
The six-inch incision on his forearm and the two-inch incision on his upper healed. The tight skin became pliable again, but his muscles remained weak, his fingers continued to curl and he had difficulty with his grip. When he practiced with a machine gun, he couldn’t pull the trigger with his right hand. Attempts with his left failed because his right hand couldn’t hold the gun steady.
After a month of struggling, the attending physician suggested he return to Berlin for further treatment. The commander granted permission. Penn was ecstatic. Emotion welled up in him until his throat seemed to close. Hannah. He could locate her. He hoped to fly in a Junker but was ordered to take the train instead, his commander saying, “We can’t spare planes.”
In the company of other injured flyers, Penn shouldered his bag and climbed into a truck for a ride to the train. Their commander came to bid them farewell and wished the men speedy recoveries.
“I’m on my way to Greece,” he said.
“Good luck to you.” With a heavy heart, Penn shook hands with the man. Goring was not keeping up with his earlier promises to the pilots who were killed faster than replacements were available. Rumor had it, he wore a red toga in his home in the Alps, was a drug addict who painted his fingernails red and continually smoked a long pipe. None of the pilots missed his recorded rages against them because they were losing planes. Penn personally hated the man and believed something had to be done about him. But what could he do?
On the train ride, north up the spine of Italy and the Apennines, Penn was barely aware of the beauty of the green foothills. He did not join in songs to the Italian girls. His thoughts were with Hannah. What would she think of his useless arm? Would it make a difference to her that he was no longer a whole person? He quickly pushed the question out of his mind knowing it would not. More than once he took out the wrinkled photo of her and touched it to his lips. He ached with desire to hold her, the only person he loved, to cradle her face, run his hands through her soft hair, and smell her perfume.
Most of the news they had from the war effort was positive. At one stop, he climbed down from the train and purchased a newspaper. What he read shocked him. In northern Germany, Hamburg was pulverized by British and American bombers. The paper did not go into detail, calling it a one-sided catastrophe with Germany still winning the war. Anger spilled over him at the lie.
When they passed through the Dolomites and entered Austria, Penn heard the first rumors of the concentration camps and the horrors occurring there. He could not believe his leaders would stoop to such violence—the wholesale murder of Jews. Simply not possible. The fact it could be true, increased his concerns for Hannah. No, it panicked him and made him sick just thinking about what could happen to her.
Again, plans of deserting filled his mind. With Hannah, they could disappear in the Alps, make it to Switzerland, and get help from his cousin to reach Spain. His plans collapsed like a sand castle wiped out by the sea. He reminded himself, Hannah would never leave her parents. His parents would end up in prison.
Much of the journey through Austria, Penn slept or kept his eyes closed. He did not want to talk with other injured men returning to Germany. Some were seriously injured and rode on stretchers, but others were mobile and relieved to leave battle behind them. They chose not to speak of the progress of the war nor discuss Hamburg and the hardships in Russia. Hitler rests and relaxes safe in Berchtesgaden while the rest of us fight to the death. For what? Penn gritted his teeth in exasperation. As soon as he reunited with Hannah, he would get her out of Germany even if it meant taking her family with him.
The train reached Munich in the afternoon. The men were told there would be a slight delay while the track ahead of them was repaired. Penn stepped onto the platform. The city lay in ruins. The smell of burning flesh and ash hung over the city filling his nostrils, choking him. It was more than he could tolerate. He purchased a cup of coffee and reentered the train.
When the train pulled into Berlin, the day was cold and cloudy. The damage to the city from allied bombing, shocked Penn. Had his apartment been spared? What of his parents’ home, the Dressers’? Were they still standing?
Pulling his collar up around his neck, he looked for transportation to his apartment. He caught a ride on the back of a motorcycle. The driver passed the Tiergarten where trees were gone but replaced with a few frozen garden rows. Buildings were skeletons from bombing raids. Rage burned his throat. His city was destroyed. Hitler had done this, leading them into war. He cursed.
Because debris filled the street leading to his apartment, the man left him about a block from his building. “You air boys should be doing more to prevent this havoc,” he said.
Penn paid him and then gave him a scornful look. “We’re busy in Sicily so the Allies won’t march into Berlin.” He turned his back to the man and walked toward his home kicking the bricks and glass littering the pavement with the toe of his boot.
His apartment building stood, but neighboring buildings appeared as skeletons. Roofs and windows were gone. Jagged walls rose against the sky like ghosts. Relieved he still had a place to call home, he entered the building. Silence greeted him, but he knew residents were in the apartments by the smells of food and bodies.
His apartment was cold. Dust covered every piece of furniture. He squatted in front of his stove, pulled wood out of his wood box, and lit a fire before turning on his kitchen faucet that spit and choked to life much to his relief, but the water was cold.
As soon as Penn bathed and dressed in civilian clothes, he backed his car out of his underground parking slot, and maneuvered his way through rubble to Hannah’s home with his heart in his throat. What would he find? Should he check in with his parents or collect Hannah and run?
His neighborhood seemed untouched by the war. The lawn, trees, and bushes were all neatly trimmed. His heart raced with alarm. How had the Dressers managed to do the work? He parked and hurried to the back door, put his fist up to knock, but hesitated. There was a new swing in the backyard. Something was wrong. He felt it in his gut. Had Hannah married? Sick at the thought, he turned to leave, then changed his mind, and pounded on the door. Waiting seemed to go on forever.
At last, he heard footsteps and the door opened. He faced a stranger, someone he had never seen. A woman dressed in a servant’s outfit—white apron over a dark dress, hair pulled back in a bun, and a harsh expression brushed over him with a question on her lips.
“Yes,” she said.
Penn stood speechless. Who was this severe appearing woman?
Finding his voice, he said, “I’ve come to call on the Dressers.”
Her expression changed from severe to unease, and she started to close the door. Penn stopped it with his foot. “Do you know the Dressers?”
“No. They no longer reside here.” Her words chilled him.
“Do you know where they might be?”
“No.” When she shut the door, Penn did not stop her. His parents might know. He parked in the driveway leading to his parents’ house and rang the bell. His mother answered the door.
Surprise registered on her face. “Penn. You’re home. She took his arm, drew him into the entry hall, and threw her arms around him. Tears filled her eyes. “We’ve worried so about you never hearing from you. We heard you were missing, but here you are? Why haven’t you written, answered our letters?” She let him go. “Let me take your coat. We’ve only kept track of you through the goodness of Herman.” She hung his
wrap on the tree stand and called, “Lisa, come quickly. Penn is home. Your father will be delighted. What are you doing in Berlin? Why aren’t you fighting in Sicily?”
She hugged him again. Penn released her arms from his neck and brusquely pushed her away. Ashamed at his reaction, he said gently, “I’ve been injured. My plane went down after I was shot.”
His mother grabbed his arm. “I must see your injury.” He pulled away.
Lisa came into the hall. “Penn,” she said with surprise in her voice. What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in Sicily ? You look good.” She gave him a hug.
Penn was shocked at the appearance of his sister. Although as well dressed as his mother, hair curled and brushed behind her ears, she appeared weary and the sparkle had gone from her eyes. She had aged with streaks of gray in her hair. Her skin had fine lines he had never noticed before.
“How are you?” he stammered.
“Well enough. You must know, Hubert was killed. His bomber was brought down by the dirty British over France. You didn’t know?” Disbelief registered on her lips. “Oh, but it happened recently. You couldn’t know. We couldn’t bring him home for burial.” Sobs erupted from her. “It’s so awful. The children are devastated. Hitler’s youth groups have kept them going.” She dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief. “We’re lost without him, but then, you haven’t kept in touch with us.” Her accusative voice filled him with guilt.
“I’m sorry,” Penn said but he was not surprised. The bombers were good dive-bombers but were slow and easy targets and Hubert was a mediocre flyer. Strange, he felt no remorse at Hubert's loss and he was not sorry. He'd never liked him and his Nazi loyalty.
“I was shot down in Africa.” The apology sounded so trite to him, he glanced away from her and stuck his hands in his pockets.
His mother took his arm. “We’re in grief, but you’re here and you’re alive. We have you. Lisa, my dear, run tell Cook we have a guest for dinner.” She led him into the parlor.
Penn had no desire to sit at the table with his family, but he couldn’t refuse either. During dinner, he could ask about the Dressers. It might be a better time now than later. He dreaded the reaction from them and whether they would tell him.
Settled in the parlor, he drank coffee with his mother while they waited for his father just like in the past. Lisa and her son and daughter who had grown into almost adulthood, came in.
"You two surprise me. I'm not sure I would recognize you if I met you on the street."
"I'll be joining the tank corps next year," Anton said.
"You're only sixteen," Penn said. "You're too young.
"I'm needed and proud to serve greater Germany."
"And I'm training to work in the office of the SS Head Quarters," Alice said.
Saddened by their remarks but not knowing what to say, he shook his head.
His father bustled into the room interrupting them. Penn stood and put his cup on the end table next to his chair
“My god, Penn, it’s good to see you. I had no idea you were in Berlin.” His father gripped his shoulder. “Why haven’t you written?”
Penn met his father with a cool reply. “I’ve been fighting a war with little time to write.”
His father removed his coat with a fox fur collar. He was well-dressed in an expensive wool suit, blue silk shirt, and matching tie. His hair had turned gray, but he looked vigorous and full of self-importance and had an arrogance about him Penn had not noticed previously. “We’ll celebrate your return. I have some French wine from Paris. Excellent tasting.” He rang a small bell and a servant came into the room. “Bring the wine I just received,” he said.
To Penn, his father said, “Sit,” before sitting opposite of him. Drawing his pant legs slightly above his well-polished shoes, and running his thumb and finger along the creases, he studied Penn’s face with such intensity, Penn shifted uncomfortably in his chair and tucked his bad arm under his good.
“Reports inform us, thanks to men like you, we’re preventing the Allies from entering Italy even with the fall of Mussolini. We have Stalingrad surrounded and about to surrender. The war should be over soon.” Penn choked and stared at his father in disbelief.
"We've lost Sicily. We're almost ready to retreat to Italy."
"Nonsense. Goebbels tells us differently."
"I've just come from Italy."
When the wine and glasses arrived, the subject was dropped. His father filled and handed the drinks to his mother, sister but not to the children, and then to him. “Here’s to Hitler and his successes.”
Penn set his glass down. “I can’t drink to your toast. Open your eyes. We’ve been pushed out of Africa at the expense of tanks, planes, and men. We’ve lost the battle in Sicily.”
“Blasphemous.” A vein popped out in his father’s forehead as he shook his fist in Penn’s face almost spilling his drink. “Retract your words."
“Stop this,” his mother cried.
Lisa stood. “How can you say such a thing when we’ve lost Hubert doing his best to protect us?” She looked at her son and daughter who sat with downcast eyes. “You’re disloyal. You should leave us.”
“No,” his mother said. “We haven’t seen him for two years. Calm down, all of you. Dinner will be ready shortly.” Her red lips trembled and her face flushed.
Penn glanced from his mother to his father. How can they be so blind? He took in a deep breath and let out a long one, but he did sit down certain he would not find out about the Dressers.
Dinner was announced. His mother took his elbow and guided him to the dining room.
Seated at the table, he scanned the rich soup set before him. The soup was delicious, much better than the food fed to the pilots. When the soup was finished, they were served a leg of corned-beef with sauerkraut and mashed peas. Dessert was apfstrudel drowned in vanilla sauce. Excellent wine flowed freely but the conversation was pithy and brusque. Penn could not remember when he ate so well, but it disturbed his thoughts. Dinner finished, they retired to the library for coffee.
Penn took cream and sugar, set the cup and saucer on the table next to him, swallowed and then opened his mouth to ask about Hannah’s family. “I notice you have new neighbors.”
“Fine people, not those filthy Jews who lived there so long,” his mother said. “They have a lovely daughter. I believe she’s twenty. You must meet her.”
Penn picked up his cup and took a sip of the coffee. “What happened to the Dressers?” His voice was casual.
His father scowled at him. “They were Jews. What does it matter what happened to them?”
“I know,” Alice piped up. “I saw them leave. Hannah was so pretty.”
“Alice, do not interrupt.” Lisa scowled.
Penn’s heart missed a beat. “What did you see, Alice?”
“I was looking out my window. I watch the bombing, all the lights and flares, but it was cloudy and the bombers don’t come when the weather’s bad. But, anyway, before I closed my drapes, I saw Hannah, her mother, their housekeeper and a little boy go out the backdoor and run to the hedgerow. I don’t know where they went, because I couldn’t see them anymore. Then the Gestapo came in their wagon. They broke down the door, but didn’t turn on lights, just used torches.” Alice glanced at her mother with a guilty expression.
“When was this, Alice?” Penn’s hand shook. He put his cup down and gripped the arm of his chair.
“I don’t remember, but at least two weeks ago. It was cloudy like tonight.
“Alice, you are never to open your drapes at night. What were you thinking? Do not speak of the Dressers in this house,” Lisa scolded in a harsh voice. “We’ll discuss this later.”
“Good riddance. They were vermin. I don’t want to hear any more.” His father picked up his glass of wine a
nd took a deep swallow. “You, Penn, must put her out of your mind for the good of us.”
Standing, Penn forced himself to restrain words of defense of the Dressers. “I must leave. I have an early meeting with my commander.” Hannah’s out of Berlin? Where is she? Where shall I look for her? Who is the little boy? The thoughts ran wild in his mind as he put on his jacket.
“We’ll see you again,” his mother said more as a question then a statement.
“I don’t know when. I haven’t received my new assignment. I am to receive some help with my arm, but it won’t take long.”
His father patted his back. “I hope your injury isn’t too serious. Do your job protecting greater Germany and win this war.”
“Yes.” Penn walked to the entryway and gave his mother a hug as she expected.
“Do be careful.” His body stiffened when his mother returned his hug. “You’ll be in our prayers. Return as soon as you can and do write.”
Overcome with disgust, shattered by worry for Hannah but relieved she had left the house alive, Penn fought to restrain his anger. He said goodbye, told his niece and nephew to work hard to meet the demands of their new assignments and look after Lisa. He left the house. This was no longer his family or his home.
Chapter 17
Because of the cloud cover, bombers did not arrive, and Berlin was quiet. Penn parked his vehicle. Since the lift no longer functioned, he climbed the stairs to his apartment, tore off his tie, kicked off his shoes, and unbuttoned his shirt.
The evening had not been pleasant, but he was grateful Alice had told him about Hannah. What had happened to her and where had she gone was not answered, but, at least, she was out of the house. He hoped she was out of Berlin, out of Germany, and in Switzerland. In the morning, he intended to call his cousin in Switzerland and find out if she had contacted him.