by Fox J Wilde
“A leader?” Lena replied sheepishly. Honestly, she had never really considered herself to be a leader. A rabble rouser, sure…maybe even some mascot after a fashion. But a leader? Oh, that was far too much responsibility.
“Don’t you worry.” Grandfather said with a knowing smile. “You’ll get there soon enough. Let’s use our time together wisely. By the time we figure out a solution to this whole messy business, you’ll be all the wiser—certainly wiser than most of your friends. And then you won’t just be a leader…but you will be the leader they need.”
She had thought on this for a moment, not entirely convinced. Perhaps Grandfather realized she felt so, because he shifted focus by turning up the volume on the radio where Public Image Ltd’s The Flowers of Romance was playing. “Now this album,” Grandfather had begun, “is very controversial because...”
Many days passed in this fashion. Grandfather had made her internment the next best thing to pleasant (if anything akin to pleasantness could be found in such a place). She knew he was speaking on behalf of the State—they all did—but no one garnered that much knowledge about music without actually enjoying it. Sure, most of the time there was a moral to the story: some sort of ‘State wisdom’ he seemed to want to impart. But Lena got the distinct impression that he was using her as an excuse to relax and listen to music he otherwise wouldn’t be able to.
He wasn’t even putting much effort into the ‘State’ side of things, truth be told. Sure, he believed in the GDR’s way of doing things, but that was because it was the right thing to do as far as he saw it. Lena honestly believed that if her country had a separate preference for the definition of ‘social unrest’, Grandfather would still stick to his guns in favor of community and purpose. She legitimately couldn’t fault him for that. He believed what he believed because he genuinely believed it—it just so happened that those beliefs aligned with the State that employed him.
His genuine belief and obvious sincerity had a profound effect on her. As the days wore on, she felt several changes taking place inside of herself. She began to feel more comfortable talking openly about her former life, and legitimately regretted some of her mistakes. Why, oh, why had she decided to write those lyrics?! At best, it was stupid and dangerous for her. At worst, it was legitimately stupid and dangerous for her family and friends. They didn’t deserve to be led astray by her and her stupid opinions. She was a child after all. No, not a worthless thing to be seen and not heard, as the Lieutenant had put it...just uninformed and lacking in grand perspective.
Lena was led back down the hallway past several cells and rooms for yet another interrogation, a few days later. All of them were reasonably pleasant, given her former circumstances. After a long walk between two female guards who seemed rather impatient with Lena’s shackled shuffle (staircases were the worst), she was led into the room she had grown quite familiar with—the white wall, the big open windows, the small desk and the radio. Something was different this time, however. Instead of just her Grandfather waiting there for her, a tall man also stood in the corner. He was over six feet tall, ruddily handsome with vaguely mixed-German features, and had an immaculately pressed uniform. His uniform was different than the rest of the Stasi. It seemed…well, larger somehow. It was almost as if it was designed twenty-years too early with cheaper cuts and off-putting browns and yellows. It was also covered with an abundance of large medals and honors to his importance for all the world to see. He did have a certain air of importance about him, surely, and he stood in the corner as if bored with the world—a sort of impatience with life itself, and nowhere to relieve that impatience.
“Young Lena,” Grandfather began softly, “why don’t you take a seat. We have much to discuss, and precious little time to do it.”
Awkwardly, Lena started towards her seat in front of the desk and sat down, shuffling her hands. The air in the room felt different. An uncomfortable tension and sense of urgency filled it, although Grandfather didn’t seem of a particular mind to change that just yet. Certainly not with the important-looking man standing in the corner.
“Lena, I’m going to be honest with you.” Grandfather began. “I’ve enjoyed our time together, but I’m getting pressure from The Top, you understand. Until this point, we’ve done things pretty off-the-cuff and informal. Not just to make you more comfortable, but because I’ve needed the break!” He added this last part with a laugh, and Lena nervously laughed as well. The important man standing in the corner simply rolled his eyes.
“It’s time we get down to business, Lena.” Grandfather continued, “I know who you are, and you know who you are. We both know you are a good person who truly means no harm. Unfortunately for the both of us, that’s simply not good enough. In the eyes of the State—who’s rules I am bound to enforce—you are still a criminal.”
Lena’s heart skipped a beat.
“I know, I know...” he consoled her, “it feels like we are past that point. Maybe that’s my fault. I certainly haven’t brought it up. Not directly, at any rate. I had hoped that...well, by now, you would have reached a point where we could simply put all of that behind us.”
Lena stared as he continued with an increasingly somber tone, “But the truth is this: in the eyes of the State you have committed the crimes of sedition, treason, and various other high-level misdeeds. I have tried to explain to the men at The Top that you were merely young and ill-informed, and that our time together has reformed you into a new person.”
“It has!” Lena interrupted as a bright red heat flushed across her face. “Truly it has!”
“I know you think that, Lena,” he replied, “But in my world, with men like the Colonel standing behind me, you haven’t. Not for crimes as serious as yours.”
The important man standing in the corner gave Lena a look—it was bored, yet knowing. Grandfather had many different and conflicting emotions written on his face, however—the most prominent of which almost appeared to be pleading. Without saying it, Lena could see the depth of concern he bore. He cared for her and genuinely wanted to help her escape whatever fate was coming her way. Didn’t he?
“I’m so sorry, Grandfather,” Lena apologized, meaning every word. “What can I do to help?”
“Grandfather?” the colonel noted, again rolling his eyes. Lena instantly felt embarrassed. When he spoke, however, Lena noticed that he had a slightly different accent than Grandfather. She couldn’t quite place it, though.
“It’s a permission given, Colonel,” Lena’s ‘Grandfather’ responded, “not a liberty taken.”
“Suit yourself,” the colonel responded, unamused, before turning to Lena. “Unfortunately, you have taken too long. We only have a certain amount of resources we can allocate per case, and we exceeded yours months ago. We had charged your ‘Grandfather’ here to see if we could find use for you. So far, he has performed less than adequately.
“There will be a trial, of course. You will have a lawyer and will be allowed to plead your case, but after wasting so many resources on you, I’m afraid they aren’t likely to be lenient. The absolute minimum sentence for any one of these infractions is...”
“B-but…but...” Lena stammered, the shock written plainly on her face.
“Unfortunately, there are no ‘buts’ to be had,” he interrupted. “Your crimes are too serious, and you’ve been too expensive. Your ‘Grandfather’ here moved you into a two-person cell; spent State money on better food and reading materials; wasted precious time that should have been spent on interrogations rather than consorting. Perhaps the blame is better placed at his feet for your recalcitrance, but the result must still remain the same.”
“Gra-grandfather!” Lena began, feeling terribly guilty, “I’m so sorry! I was listening the whole time! I am a changed person, I swear it!”
“The time for apologies is past,” the colonel spoke, unmoved. “He will be punished for his failure, and you wil
l be processed into the system.”
“B-but…but…please!” was all that Lena could manage, as the tears began streaming down her face.
“He will be relieved of his duties and placed on house arrest. Lena, you will be remanded to your former cell,” the colonel continued, apathy written across his increasingly dour face. “Since there’s no hope in changing you, I see no reason for interrogations to continue with your former interrogator, but we simply can’t waste a two-person cell and good blankets on a lost case.” Looking up and motioning at the door, he added, “Guards, please see to her processing.” With this, two male guards entered the room and stood by the door—one with the dreaded bag in his hand.
“No! Please don’t! I’ll do anything, sir!” Lena begged, as she fell to her knees in the purest display of contrition she could manage. She didn’t know which could possibly be worse: the black cell or disappointing her precious Grandfather. “Anything, Sir! Anything…I will do anything! I swear it on my life!”
“I’ve seen enough. Guards, please remove her to the black cells.”
“God no!” Lena shouted, as she crawled on her knees to Grandfather. She wrapped her arms around his legs tightly and cried into his knees as she screamed, “No! Please…I’m so sorry! Please forgive me!”
“Lena, I...” he stuttered, “I’m so sorry, but...”
“Please!” Lena howled as the guards reached down to pry her arms off, “Please don’t let them take me! I’ll do anything! Anything!!!”
“Wait just a moment,” Grandfather said with authority, and the room paused.
“Colonel, I realize that this one seems like a lost cause, but perhaps we have use for her yet.”
“I’ve seen quite enough to the contrary,” he responded plainly.
“As have I, but I know this young woman. I know she is a changed woman, and I know she is willing to demonstrate that to us.”
“Anything!” Lena cried, “Oh please just believe me…please...”
“What did you have in mind?” the Colonel asked, with a still-apathetic tone.
“Well,” Grandfather began, “Let’s give her the opportunity.” Placing a hand on the top of her head, he spoke with an exceedingly caring tone, “Lena, I want to help, but I can’t do this on my own. I need you to give me something.”
Lena’s mind was swamped with terror. Her head was spinning, and her pulse was running so quick she thought she would pass out. She didn’t know what these men could possibly want to know, but she vowed to find something. She had to think of something. Her Grandfather was counting on her.
“We play shows in the churches.” Lena said. She listed off the names of her band-mates, of the bands she played with, their band-members, and all the regulars that attended frequently. She told them about her bedroom and about all the illicit paraphernalia she kept hidden inside. She told them about the record, about her zines and what was in them, she told them about the posters she had, and how she was able to gather them. She told them everything that she could think of.
“This we already know,” the Colonel said. “All of it. Useless. Is this the best information you have?”
“I…I...” Lena stuttered.
“Tell him something more important, Lena, please,” Grandfather said. “It’s ok. You can trust us.”
“We meet on the rooftops every night,” Lena started. She told them about the secret radio, and about the pirate radio station and how they built the antenna. She listed off the names of Mrs. Schroeder, Mr. Müller, Lorenzo, Mick and all the others. She felt terrible, even when she told them about annoying little Herr. But she gave them all the names; every single one.
“This is concerning,” the Colonel said.
“It’s not so big a deal,” her Grandfather spoke. “Many people in the GDR do the same thing. Besides, this Mr. Walter Müller is a known informant. He has already told us most of this and it was deemed not worth pursuing.”
“So then what else does this woman have that is worth my time?”
Lena’s shame at revealing the names of her extended family was somewhat abated by the mentioning of Mr. Müller. “He was spying on us?!” Lena screamed at herself, “Why…why didn’t he tell us?!” And then the reality of her situation, and the information she was giving away dawned on her, and she realized that she couldn’t be so mad at him.
“Lena,” Grandfather said in a sweet tone, “tell the colonel about this boy Hans.”
There it was: the bomb. The young man she had been falling for, Hans, with his perfect chin and long black hair. He had been spying on her, sure, but so had her bandmates, apparently. And he had put himself in great danger to try and get out…oh, how could she betray him like this? The images of the beating Hans had received was burned forever into her mind. He could be dead; he could be worse. Was it a trivial thing giving away this information? Or would it worsen his position?
Lena hesitated just for a minute; apparently, the colonel cued in on this. “You see?” he said, “Despite the boy being a spitzel, and despite our benevolence, this woman still holds more loyalty to him than she does to us!”
“Give her a chance, Colonel.” Grandfather said with a sweet, trusting tone, “Lena will do the right thing. I know she will. I believe in her.”
“Hans was spying on me.” Lena began, with much less hesitation than before.
She told them how Hans had started coming to her shows, about the budding romance the two of them had built. She told them about her smoking cigarettes after the show, and how Hans was always there to bring her jacket. She told them about the last show she had done before the Stasi raid, and how Hans had revealed to her that he was a spitzel. She told them how he had attempted to get her out of there before the Stasi came. She sensed a subtle shift in the room as soon as she mentioned the Stasi raid. She noticed Grandfather leaning in closer. And as her story continued further, she even noticed that the Colonel was leaning in. As she continued, sharing as much detail as she could remember, she noticed the demeanor of the Colonel shift from apathy to interest, interest to irritation and finally irritation to barely-contained rage as beads of sweat formed on a pulsing brow and grinding jaw.
“He told you he was a spitzel, did he?” her Grandfather asked her.
“Yes. Well…he never said he w-was a spitzel—but he said he was informing.”
“He said he was informing for the Stasi?”
“Yes…well…” Lena thought about it as hard as she could and decided to be as accurate as possible. “He never said he was spying for the Secret Police. But he implied it.”
“How did he imply it, young Lena?”
“Well, because he knew that all the others were informing, and he knew about the raid like they did.” Somehow, this answer did not seem to satisfy Grandfather.
“Where was he intending to take you, dear girl?” the colonel asked with a composure that was barely holding itself together.
“Well, Sir, we never actually went anywhere...”
“He never said anything about a location? Nothing whatsoever? No mention of a bar…a rooftop…even a direction?”
“No Sir…I didn’t believe him and didn’t want to go...”
The now visibly enraged colonel seemed very unsatisfied with her honesty. He began launching into several questions that didn’t appear to have anything to do with anything of import. These were questions like, “Where was your first kiss?” “Did he ever express frustration with you and go somewhere to cool off?” “What was his best friend’s name?” At first, they all seemed to be completely random, but once Grandfather joined in, asking random questions as well, Lena began to understand: they wanted to know where Hans went when no one was looking. More importantly, they believed he did go somewhere that no one would look for him to meet with someone that Lena should have known about. Perhaps this was why Hans was so desperate to get her out of that church. Per
haps, perhaps…
“S-sir...” Lena stuttered as reality dawned, “How did Hans know who y-your informants w-were?”
“Stupid girl!” the colonel lashed out, picking up and throwing a small wooden chair across the room. Sweating to the point of indignity, he berated no one in particular, “What a stupid girl! Stupid and useless! She knows nothing!”
“Perhaps given time...” Grandfather responded in a placating tone.
“No! There is no reason!” the colonel spat at him. “It was too late the moment we took the little bastard and his friends into custody. It is now almost two months later! Two! This is precisely why we warned against the raid! This! Did we not warn against it?!”
“Yes Colonel, you did,” Grandfather replied calmly.
“But your leadership was too hasty…too hasty! And now what do we have to show for years of work? Almost two years of monitoring the boy…gone! A two-year counter-intelligence operation…utterly blown! Tell me what we have to show for it?!”
“I suppose...” Grandfather responded before being cut off by an increasingly irate colonel (who was now bellowing so loud, Lena thought he would have an aneurysm).
“...a stupid useless girl, that’s what!” he raged, “A stupid useless girl who means less than nothing to the project! Meanwhile, millions of marks—flushed down the toilet like so much shit! How must I explain to my superiors the extent of your superiors’ actions? You tell me, Sir! You tell me!”
“I couldn’t possibly begin to, Colonel,” Grandfather said in a manner that sounded contrite, but felt almost like a carefully concealed giggle.
“Oh, you love this, don’t you?!” the colonel screamed so loud that his voiced cracked up an octave, “It’s an outrage! It’s treason…sabotage! I should have you for mutiny!”
“You are absolutely correct, Colonel,” Grandfather stifled back laughter.