She nods uncertainly. Brigitta comes to take her hand. I shoo them out of the door and am left on my own in the empty apartment.
I take one last tour of the apartment: saying good-bye to the bedroom where I shared a bunk bed with Brigitta, the bathroom with the clanking water pipes, the tiny kitchen where we ate our meals. Then I put on my coat and shoes, open the apartment door and step out onto the landing.
It’s dark. I press the light switch and start to make my way down the stairs. The building is silent. I pass Herr Schiller’s old door and pause for a moment to remember our friend who tried to save us. As I continue down the stairs I hear a door opening on the landing below. I was so hoping to leave without running into anybody, most of all Frau Lange. I consider for a moment turning back, but it’s too late. She has appeared on the landing and has seen me coming down the stairs.
“Guten Abend,” I say as I continue down. Good Evening.
“Guten Abend,” she replies in her clipped, formal tones. “Wo gehen Sie?” Where are you going?
The question stops me in my tracks. Why is she asking me that? Suddenly all the pent up feelings of living in this closed, secretive society burst out of me.
“Das hat nichts mit Ihnen zu tun!” I say to her. That’s got nothing to do with you!
She looks astonished but I don’t apologise. I storm past her, not caring what she thinks anymore. Whether our escape attempt succeeds or fails, I will never see her again.
Dieter
Andreas takes up his position at the bottom of the vertical shaft and Werner, Claudia and I make our way through the tunnel into East Berlin. Against my will I have the rifle slung over one shoulder.
We pass the spot where the roof collapsed and I remember how Claudia nearly died. At the border we pause for a moment. Werner marked the border between East and West Berlin with a line of white paint and in an idle moment Andreas scrawled the words, Hier beginnt die Freiheit! Freedom starts here! Then, without a word, we move on.
When we reach the wooden slide Werner puts his hand on my shoulder. “Dieter, I just want to say thank you for everything you’ve done in helping to dig this tunnel.”
“Oh, it was nothing,” I say. “It was all your idea. We couldn’t have done it without your plans.”
Werner shrugs. “Anyway, good luck.”
“Thank you,” I say.
Claudia throws her arms around him and gives him a big hug. There’s no need to say anything else.
“Come on,” she says to me.
We leave Werner at the bottom of the slide, and make our way up to the top.
The cellar in Schönholzer Strasse is silent. A little light, just enough to see by, filters in through the barred windows at street level. The cellar is just as we left it. There’s no sign that anyone has been here.
Claudia moves into the shadows and quickly changes out of her dirty old jeans and into a skirt and coat. She doesn’t want to go to the café looking like she’s just crawled through an underground tunnel. When she’s ready we make our way to the top of the cellar steps. This is where I have to stay. If any of the residents come to the cellar to fetch coal whilst the escape is in progress I’m under orders to keep them here and not let them go. If any of them want to come to West Berlin, that’s fine, but we can’t risk them going off and informing the Stasi that an escape is under way in their building.
We stop at the top of the steps. I don’t want Claudia to go. She turns to me. I pull her towards me in the shadows and kiss her on the lips. She kisses me back. Then she pulls away from me and slips out into the hallway.
Sabine
I hurry along the dark streets, keeping to the shadows wherever possible. I can’t shake off the feeling that someone is following me, but I tell myself it’s just my imagination. But I do feel conspicuous as if I was carrying a sign that says, I’m going to escape from East Berlin. It’s a cold night and there are not many people about. The busiest place is the U-bahn station at Eberswalder Strasse where a crowd of workers appear from the exit. But they are all keen to get home and no one pays me any attention.
As I approach the area close to the Wall, the streets become quieter and darker. I keep my head down as I pass by an army truck. I imagine it is filled with soldiers.
I find the café on Ruppiner Strasse. The shutters are pulled down but a thin strip of light is escaping around the edge.
I push open the door and go inside.
It is dark and smoky. The walls are painted brown and the only light comes from a low-wattage bulb in a red, glass shade. There’s a sickly sweet smell of beer. I’m stunned by how many people there are.
Every small round table is occupied by three or four people. There must be at least thirty people here. Are they all planning to escape through the tunnel? A café with that many people in it should be full of noise: chatter and laughter. But everyone here is either silent or whispering quietly to their nearest neighbours.
I look around for Mother and Brigitta. I feel a hand brush against mine. I look around and see Ingrid Huber sitting at a table with her niece and nephew. She clutches my hand and gives it a squeeze. I nod at her and smile. As I move on through the café I recognise Manfred Heilmann, the actor. He is sitting with a small boy and a woman who is cradling a baby in her arms. There’s another woman at their table who I can’t place for a moment although I’m sure I’ve seen her somewhere before. Then I realise it’s Elisabeth Borgmann who played Mother Courage. Now that she’s not wearing a dirty old headscarf she looks beautiful. At another table I notice Marion Weber whispering animatedly to her neighbours.
I find Mother and Brigitta sitting at the back of the café, on their own. Mother looks tense and worried, but as soon as she sees me she relaxes a little.
“So far so good,” I say to them as I sit down. Now all we have to do is wait.
Dieter
I’ve never felt more scared, standing at the top of the cellar steps, cradling the rifle in my arms.
All my senses are on high alert, listening for every little sound. I hear the main door to the building open and I jump to attention. There are footsteps in the hallway. They walk a few steps, then stop. Then walk some more. Please don’t come to the cellar, I think, please don’t come to the cellar. I don’t want to have to hold you here.
Then the footsteps start to climb the stairs and eventually disappear. I breathe out.
I check my watch. It’s been seven minutes since Claudia left. She must have reached the café by now. I wish she’d hurry up and bring the escapees to the tunnel. I’m going to go mad with nerves waiting here.
Sabine
The café door opens and a young woman walks in. She’s dark haired and petite and is wearing a woollen coat. I hope this is Claudia. She glances around the room, and I see a little alarm in her eyes at the number of people here. I don’t know how many she was expecting.
Dozens of pairs of eyes follow her as she walks to the bar where Herr Lindemann, the landlord, is polishing and re-polishing glasses with a tea-towel.
The café is silent as everyone waits for her to speak. She clears her throat and says to Herr Lindemann, “Einen Kaffee bitte.” A coffee please.
This is the signal. Now I know this is definitely Claudia. No one in East Berlin would ask for a coffee because coffee isn’t available here. The people in the café exchange knowing glances with one another. Claudia’s Aunt, Ingrid Huber, looks close to tears. She is telling Claudia’s brother and sister that they must keep very quiet.
Herr Lindemann puts down the glass he has been polishing for the last five minutes and replies in a shaking voice, “Es gibt keinen Kaffee.” There is no coffee.
“Danke,” says Claudia.
She leans over the bar and has a whispered conversation with Herr Lindemann. I think they’re discussing the numbers. Then Claudia moves into the centre of the café and addresses everyone.
“I will take half of you now,” she says. “Everyone sitting in the front half of the café come with
me. I will come straight back for the rest of you.”
The people in the front of the café all stand. There’s a scraping of chairs and a buzz of children’s voices. Parents tell them to be quiet.
“Quick!” says Claudia. “Stay close to me and keep quiet!”
She goes to the door and looks out, up and down the street. “Now!” she says looking over her shoulder.
The first group of escapees follow her into the street.
We wait for her to come back.
Dieter
It seems to me as if Claudia has been gone far too long. Surely, it can’t take her all that time to reach the café and bring everyone back. I start to imagine all sorts of things that could have gone wrong: she’s walked into a patrol of border guards; the café is swarming with Stasi officials; the escapees never made it to the café in the first place. My palms are sweating against the metal of the rifle. I strain my ears to try and catch any sound outside in the street. I hear a truck on Brunnenstrasse, delivering new border guards no doubt.
Suddenly there are footsteps in the hallway. Lots of them. Then there’s a knock on the cellar door.
“Dieter, it’s me.” Claudia’s voice is an urgent whisper. I open the door immediately and Claudia ushers about fifteen men, women and children, none of whom I recognise, into the cellar. “This is half of the group,” she says.
Mein Gott, I think, I wasn’t expecting so many people.
Some of them are old and I don’t know how they are going to manage to crawl through the tunnel. One woman is carrying a small baby strapped to her chest. Many of them are wide-eyed with terror. I look in vain for Sabine, Mother and Brigitta but they are not there.
“This way,” says Claudia leading them to the tunnel. “Hurry.”
I continue to guard the door as Claudia shows them the tunnel. One by one they disappear down the chute. But it’s taking far too long and I’m convinced we’re going to be found out.
Once the escape is running smoothly Claudia runs back up the cellar steps. “Now for the rest,” she says, disappearing once more into the night.
Sabine
With the first group gone, the atmosphere in the café becomes even tenser. Herr Lindemann gives up the pretence of polishing glasses and stands by the door, listening for Claudia’s return.
Mother looks pale and tired. I worry that she won’t have the strength to crawl through a tunnel. I try to take her mind off the coming ordeal by talking.
“You know,” I say, “I still can’t believe that I’m here, that I’m not in prison. I thought they were going to keep me there for ever and then they suddenly let me go. I can’t understand what happened.”
“But it’s simple,” says Brigitta, her eyes twinkling.
“What do you mean?”
Mother lays a hand on Brigitta’s arm to stop her, but Brigitta is determined to tell me. “I went to Frau Lange and asked her to help us.”
“You did what?” I ask. “But I thought you were terrified of Frau Lange.”
Brigitta shrugs. “She’s not so scary. I realised that the day we helped her with her coal bucket and she told us the story of her husband.”
“But what did you say to her?”
“I told her that she had lost her husband but that we had lost our father, one to one regime and one to another. What happened to Frau Lange’s husband was dreadful and wrong but two wrongs don’t make a right. I told her that you had been arrested without any justification and she understood that. She didn’t promise anything but she said she would see what she could do. She remembered the time we helped her with the coal. She knows we’re not bad people.”
I’m astounded that Brigitta had the courage to speak to Frau Lange. But most of all I’m shocked that Frau Lange responded so positively. I think of my last meeting with Frau Lange on the stairs, and feel bad that I was so rude to her. After all, she was just a lonely old woman who had lost her husband in terrible circumstances and was hoping that Communism would bring a better world.
At that moment the café door opens and Claudia returns. She must have delivered the first group safely to the tunnel.
Everyone gets to their feet. Mother has gone deathly pale. I grab her hands in mine. “It won’t be long now. Just be brave.”
We gather behind Claudia, and wait whilst she checks the street.
“Now,” she whispers.
Our group snakes along Ruppiner Strasse, turning left into Schönholzer Strasse. Ahead of us is Brunnenstrasse.
It’s very quiet in Schönholzer Strasse. The houses are silent and seem to offer some sort of protection. In places there are vacant lots where a building was hit during the war. I feel more exposed then, when there is no building in which to run and hide.
Suddenly from Brunnenstrasse there’s the sound of a heavy vehicle manoeuvring. It’s an army truck turning around and as it reverses and swings around, engine rumbling and gears clanking, its headlights suddenly shine down Schönholzer Strasse, illuminating the street like a pair of searchlights.
“Don’t move!” hisses Claudia as we all press ourselves against the wall of the nearest building, wishing ourselves flat and invisible.
Please God, I think, don’t let the truck drive down here.
I hold my breath as the gears grind and the engine revs. What if it breaks down with its lights shining on us? Or runs out of petrol? Come on, I think, get a move on.
The engine roars and the vehicle jolts forward and disappears back up Brunnenstrasse.
I breathe out.
Claudia waits a moment, then beckons us on with renewed urgency.
We reach the door of number seventeen and Claudia ushers us inside.
Dieter
At the sound of Claudia’s voice I yank the door open and the second group makes its way down the cellar steps. I scan each of their faces. They are strangers to me, all of them. And then, at the back of the group I see Sabine, Brigitta and Mother, the three of them holding hands. I’ve never been happier to see them, but there’s no time to talk now. Claudia is ushering people towards the tunnel. So far everything has gone according to plan, but we must get this group through the tunnel before the guards on Brunnenstrasse discover what is happening.
I abandon my post at the cellar door and follow the group down the steps. Claudia is helping people into the tunnel, showing them how to slide down safely and reassuring them that there’s nothing to be frightened off. There’s a family with three small children. The father says it’s going to be an exciting adventure and they mustn’t be scared. He slides into the tunnel first and persuades the children to follow him one by one. Then the mother disappears down the chute. Then Claudia helps an elderly couple who have difficulty bending down. For God’s sake, I think, hurry up. We have to get out of here before we are found out. It occurs to me that we should have barricaded the door to the cellar, but it’s too late now. The next few people are able-bodied and, to my relief, disappear down the chute in a matter of moments. At last the only people left are Mother, Brigitta, Sabine, Claudia and myself.
“You next,” says Claudia to Mother.
But Mother is trembling from head to toe. “I can’t do it,” she says. “I can’t go through the tunnel.”
Sabine
“Mother, you have to,” I say.
“I can’t, I…”
“It’s all right, Frau Neumann,” says Claudia calmly. “It’s really not so bad down there. There are people in the tunnel to help you.”
Mother stares in terror at the hole in the ground. Her chest rises and falls erratically. She shakes her head from side to side. “Nein, nein, nein.”
“Mein Gott!” says Dieter, “what are we going to do now?”
“I want to go back home,” whimpers Mother in the voice of a frightened child.
“You can’t go back home,” I say to her. “It’s impossible. You’ll be arrested.” But it’s no good, she’s not listening.
“Come with me Mama,” calls Brigitta who is sitting on the e
dge of the hole.
But Mother starts to move back towards the steps. “I have to get out of here. I have to get out of here.”
Dieter looks at me in despair as Mother starts to climb the cellar steps. Then he throws the rifle aside and grabs hold of her from behind with both arms. “Let me go!” she screams.
“Shut up!” cries Dieter, lifting her back into the cellar. “I dug this hole for you and you’re going through it now.”
“I can’t,” she wails.
“Be quiet,” hisses Dieter, “or you’ll give us all away.”
She continues to struggle in Dieter’s arms and suddenly I can’t stand it any longer. Dieter has risked his life to dig this tunnel. We’ve all risked our lives to get here tonight. Eight years of pent up frustration explode inside me and before I know what I’m doing I run over to her and slap her hard across the face.
The sound ricochets off the empty cellar walls. Then silence.
My hand stings, but Mother has stopped struggling. She has gone limp in Dieter’s arms.
Claudia comes over and helps him carry her to the tunnel. Brigitta slides down the chute. Then Dieter calls to Werner to help him and he lowers Mother’s unresisting body into the hole. Dieter follows.
I’m still standing where I slapped Mother, too shocked to move. I can’t believe I did what I did. I hope she’ll understand and will forgive me.
Claudia comes over to me. “You did the right thing,” she says. She takes hold of my hand. “Come on now.” She leads me towards the tunnel.
We are almost there when the cellar door flies open and a bright light shines into the basement.
Dieter
Werner takes one look at Mother who is in a state of mental and physical collapse and says, “You take her shoulders, I’ll take her feet.” Together we lift her up and start to carry her through the tunnel. Brigitta goes ahead of us.
It’s impossibly slow and back-breaking. Every ten metres or so we have to put her down and readjust our hold on her.
Oranges for Christmas Page 24