"I don't need anything for a funeral."
"What then?" the saleswoman asked in surprise.
"I would like to buy some flowers."
"Flowers? I have lilies—"
"No lilies. Something for a wedding."
"Lilies are entirely suitable for a wedding, sir! They are the symbol of innocence and virginity."
"That's right. But haven't you any roses?"
"Roses? At this time of year? Where from? The greenhouses are all being used to grow vegetables. It's hard to get anything at all."
Graeber walked around the stall. Finally, behind a wreath in the form of a swastika, he found a bunch of jonquils. "Give me these."
The saleswoman picked up the bunch and let the water drip off. "Unfortunately, I'll have to wrap the flowers in a newspaper. I haven't anything else."
"That doesn't matter."
Graeber paid for the jonquils and left. He immediately felt uncomfortable with the flowers in his hand. Everyone seemed to be staring at him. At first he held the bouquet with the blossoms downward; then he clamped them under his arm. In doing so he saw the paper in which they were wrapped. Under the yellow blossoms appeared the picture of a man open-mouthed in front of some sort of tribunal. It was a photograph of the presiding officer of a People's Court. He read the text. Four persons had been put to death because they no longer believed in a German victory. Their heads had been hacked off with an ax. In the Third Reich the guillotine had long since been discarded. It was too humane. Graeber crumpled up the paper and threw it away.
The clerk had been right—the registry office was in the gymnasium of the high school. The registrar sat in front of a row of climbing ropes, the lower ends of which had been hooked back against the wall. Between them hung a portrait of Hitler in uniform, beneath it a swastika with the German eagle.
They had to wait. A middle-aged soldier was in front of them. There was a woman with him, wearing on her breast a gold brooch in the form of a sailing ship. The man was very excited, the woman calm. She smiled at Elisabeth as though they were fellow conspirators.
"Marriage witnesses," said the registrar. "Where are your witnesses"
The soldier stammered. He had none. "I thought with war marriages you didn't need any," he finally said.
"That would be nice, wouldn't it? With us, order prevails."
The soldier turned to Graeber. "Could you perhaps help us, comrade? You and the young lady? Just your signatures."
"Of course. Then you can sign for us, too. I didn't think I needed any, either."
"Who thinks of anything like that?"
"Everyone who knows his duty as a citizen," the registrar announced cuttingly. He obviously took the omission as a personal insult. "Do you by any chance go into battle without a gun?"
The soldier stared at him. "That's something entirely different. After all, a witness is not a gun!"
"I didn't say he was. It was simply a comparison. Well, what about it now? Have you your witnesses?"
"My comrade here and the lady."
The registrar looked at Graeber peevishly. It obviously did not please him to have the matter settled so simply. "Have you identification papers?" he asked Graeber hopefully.
"Yes, here. We want to get married ourselves." The official growled and picked up the papers. He entered Elisabeth's and Graeber's names in the register. "Sign here."
All four signed. "I congratulate you in the name of the Fuehrer," the registrar said frostily afterwards to the soldier and his wife. Then he turned to Graeber. "Your witnesses?"
"Here." Graeber pointed to the two.
The registrar shook his head. "I can only accept one of them," he announced.
"Why? You took both of us, after all."
"You were still single. But these two are now a married couple. You have to have two independent persons as witnesses. A wife does not qualify."
Graeber did not know whether the official was right or simply trying to make difficulties. "Isn't there someone here who can do it?" he asked. "Perhaps another clerk?"
"It's not my place to take care of such matters," the registrar announced in cold triumph. "If you have no witnesses you can't get married."
Graeber looked around. "What do you need?" asked a middle-aged man who had come up and was listening. "A marriage witness? Take me."
He stood beside Elisabeth. The official examined him coldly. "Have you your papers?"
"Of course." The man casually drew out a passport and tossed it on the table. The registrar read it, rose to his feet, and yelped: "Heil Hitler, Herr Group Leader!"
"Heil Hitler," the group leader replied carelessly. "And let's, not have any more play-acting, understand? What's the matter with you, behaving toward soldiers this way?"
"Very good, Herr Group Leader! Will you please be so kind as to sign here."
Graeber saw that S.S. Group Leader Hildebrandt was his second witness. The first was Engineer Klotz. Hildebrandt shook hands with Elisabeth and Graeber and then with Klotz and his wife as well. The registrar got two copies of Hitler's Mein Kampf from behind the climbing ropes, which looked as though they had been arranged for a hanging. "A gift from the State," he announced sourly, staring after Hildebrandt. "Civilian clothes," he said. "How's anyone to know!"
They went past the leather exercise horse and the parallel bars to the exit. "When do you have to go back?" Graeber asked the engineer.
"Tomorrow." Klotz winked. "We've been intending to do it all along. Why make a present of anything to the State? If I get killed at least Marie will be taken care of. Or don't you think so?"
"Yes, I do."
Klotz unbuckled his knapsack. "You helped me out, comrade. I have a good Brunswick sausage here. Take it and enjoy it! Don't say a word. I am a farmer, I have enough. I really intended to give it to the registrar. Just imagine, that bastard!"
"Not to him, whatever happens!" Graeber took the sausage. "Here, accept this book in exchange. I have nothing else to give you as a wedding present."
"But, comrade, I just got one myself."
"That doesn't matter. You will be twice as well off now. You can give one to your wife."
Klotz looked at the copy of Mein Kampf. "It's a nice binding," he said. "Don't you really want to keep it yourself?"
"I don't need it. In the house where we live there's one bound in leather with silver clasps."
"Of course that's something else again. Well then, take care of yourself."
"You, too."
Graeber caught up with Elisabeth. "I didn't say anything to Alfons Binding about today because I didn't want him as a witness," he said. "I didn't want an S.A. commander's name beside ours. Now we've got an S.S. group leader instead. That's what happens to good resolutions."
Elisabeth laughed. "In return you've been able to trade the bible of the movement for a Brunswick sausage. It evens out."
They walked across the Marktplatz. The monument that showed only Bismarck's feet had been straightened. Pigeons circled above the Mar'enkirche. Graeber looked at Elisabeth. I really ought to be very happy, he thought; but he did not feel it quite as much as he had expected.
They were lying in a clearing in the woods outside the city. Violet haze hung between the tree trunks. Along the edges of the clearing primroses and violets were in blossom. A light breeze began to blow. Elisabeth suddenly sat up. "What's that over there? It looks like an enchanted forest. Or am I dreaming? The trees are all hung with silver. Do you see it, too?" Graeber nodded. "It looks like angel's hair."
"What is it?"
"Tinfoil. Or very thin aluminum that has been cut up into narrow strips. Something like the silver paper that comes around chocolate."
"The whole forest is covered with it. Where does it come from?"
"They toss it out of airplanes in bundles. It interferes with radio communication. I believe it makes it impossible to determine where the planes are. Something like that. When the narrow strips of foil flutter down through the air they interrupt or dis
tort the radio waves."
"Too bad," Elisabeth said. "It looks like a Christmas forest. And now it's nothing but the war again. I thought we had finally got away from that for once."
They looked across. The trees around the clearing were covered with strips that fluttered from their twigs, twisting and sparkling in the breeze. The sun broke through the mountainous clouds and transformed the woods into a glittering fairyland. What once had fluttered down in the midst of ravening death and the shrill howl of destruction now hung silent and shiny on the trees and had become silver and a shimmering and the memory of childhood stories and the great festival of peace.
Elisabeth leaned against Graeber. "Let's take the forest for what it seems—and not for what it means."
"Good." Graeber drew Pohlmann's book out of his coat pocket. "We can't take a wedding trip, Elisabeth, but Pohlmann gave me this book—it's a picture book of Switzerland. Sometime after the war we'll go there and make up for everything."
"Switzerland. The place where there still are lights at night?"
Graeber opened the book. "For a long time now there haven't been any lights even in Switzerland. I heard that at the barracks. Our government demanded it. We sent them an ultimatum insisting that their lights must be blacked out, and Switzerland had to comply."
"Why?"
"We had no objection as long as we were the only ones flying over Switzerland. But now the others fly over too. With bombs for Germany. Wherever there are lighted cities the flyers can check their position more easily. That's the reason."
"So that, too, is finished."
"Yes. But we know one thing at least—when we get to Switzerland sometime after the war, everything will be exactly as it is in this book. If we had a picture book of Italy or France or England that wouldn't be so."
"Nor with a picture book of Germany."
"Nor with a picture book of Germany."
They leafed through the book. "Mountains," Elisabeth said. "Isn't there anything in Switzerland but mountains? Aren't there any warm southern places?"
"Of course! Here's Italian Switzerland."
"Locarno. Wasn't there once a great peace conference there? Where they decided war would never be necessary again?"
"I think so."
"That didn't last long."
"No. Here is Locarno. Just look at it. Palms, old churches, and there is the La go Maggiore. And here are islands and azaleas and mimosa and sun and peace."
"Yes. What's the name of that place?"
"Porto Ronco."
"Good," Elisabeth said sleepily, laying the book down. "We'll make a note of that. We'll go there later on. Just now I don't want to take any more trips."
Graeber clapped the book shut. He looked at the glistening silver in the trees and then he took Elisabeth in his arms. He felt her come toward him and with her the floor of the forest, grass and roots and a reddish flower with delicate narrow leaves that grew larger and larger until it blotted out the horizon, and his eyes closed.
The wind died. It grew dark rapidly. From the distance came a low rumbling. Artillery, Graeber thought, half asleep. But where? Where am I? Where is the front? And then, relieved as he felt Elisabeth beside him: where are the gun emplacements around here? It must be target practice.
Elisabeth moved. "Where are they?" she murmured. "Will they bomb us or fly on?"
"It isn't airplanes."
The rumbling came again. Graeber straightened up and listened. "It's not bombs and not artillery and not airplanes, Elisabeth," he said. "It is a thunderstorm."
"Isn't it still too early for that?"
"There are no rules for thunderstorms."
Now they saw the first lightning. It seemed pale and artificial after the man-made tempests they knew, and even the thunder was hardly to be compared with the roar of massed p!anes—let alone a heavy bombing.
The rain began. They ran across the clearing and into the fir trees. Shadows seemed to race with them. The rustling of the rain in the treetops above them was like the applause of a distant crowd, and in the.pale light Graeber saw that Elisabeth's hair was covered with silver strands that had been brushed from the branches. They were like a net in which the lightning flashes were caught.
They came out of the forest and found a covered streetcar platform where a number of people were huddled. A couple of S.S. men stood with them. They were young and they stared at Elisabeth.
After half an hour the rain stopped. "I no longer know where we are," Graeber said. "Which way do we go?"
"To the right."
They crossed the street and turned off into a twilit avenue. Ahead of them at one side of the street a long row of men were busy laying pipes in the half-darkness. They were wearing striped suits.
Elisabeth was suddenly alert; she turned off the street in the direction of the workmen. She walked along slowly, very close to them, studying them as though searching for someone. Now Graeber saw that the men had numbers on their clothes. They were prisoners from the concentration camp who worked quickly and silently without glancing up. Their heads were like skulls and their clothes hung limp on their emaciated bodies. Two had collapsed and lay in front of a boarded-up soft-drink stand.
"Hey there!" an S.S. man shouted. "Stay awayl You're not allowed to go there!"
Elisabeth pretended she had not heard him. She just walked faster and kept peering into the dead faces of the prisoners. "Come back! You there, lady! At once! Damn it, can't you hear me?"
The S.S. man came up cursing. "What's the matter?" Graeber asked.
"What's the matter? Have you mud in your ears? Or is something else the matter with you?"
Graeber saw a second S.S. man approaching. He was a senior troop leader. Graeber did not dare call to Elisabeth; he knew that she would not turn back. "We are looking for something," he said to the S.S. man.
"What? Come on, speak up!"
"We lost something here. A brooch. It's a sailing ship made of diamonds. We came through here late yesterday and we must have dropped it. Have you seen it by any chance?"
"What?" Graeber repeated his lie. He saw that Elisabeth had gone past half the row. "Nothing has been found here," the senior troop leader declared.
"That's just a driveling excuse," the S.S. man said. "Have you your papers?"
Graeber looked at him for a while in silence. He would have liked to knock him down. The S.S. man was not more than twenty years old. Steinbrenner, he thought. Heini. The same type. "I not only have papers but I have very good papers," he said then. "Besides that, S.S. Group Leader Hildebrandt is a close friend of mine, in case you're interested."
The S.S. man laughed derisively. "Anything else? The Fuehrer too, no doubt?"
"Not the Fuehrer." Elisabeth had almost reached the end of the line. Graeber drew his marriage certificate out of his pocket with deliberation. "Come over here with me under the lamp post. Can you read that? The signature of my marriage witness? And the date? Today, as you see. Any more questions?"
The S.S. man stared at the paper. The senior troop leader looked over his shoulder. "That's Hildebrandt's signature," he agreed. "I know it. Nevertheless you are not allowed to walk here. It's forbidden. We can't do anything about it. I am sorry about your brooch."
Elisabeth had finished. "So am I," Graeber replied. "Naturally we won't go on looking if it's forbidden. Orders are orders."
He walked on quickly to reach Elisabeth. But the senior troop leader stayed beside him. "Perhaps we'll still find the brooch," he said. "Where shall we send it?"
"To Hildebrandt. That's the simplest thing."
"Good," the senior troop leader said respectfully. "Have you found anything?" he asked Elisabeth.
She stared at him as though she had just been awakened. "I have explained to the officer here about the brooch we lost yesterday," Graeber said quickly. "If it turns up he'll send it to Hildebrandt."
"Thank you," Elisabeth replied in amazement.
The senior troop leader looked her in the face and no
dded. "You can depend on it. We in the S.S. are cavaliers."
Elisabeth threw a glance toward the prisoners. The senior troop leader observed it. "If one of those swine has hidden it we'll find it all right," he declared gallantly. "We'll inspect them till they drop."
Elisabeth quivered. "I'm not sure I lost it here. It could just as well have been higher up in the woods. I really think it may have been there."
The senior troop leader grinned. She blushed. "It probably was in the woods," she repeated.
The senior troop leader's grin broadened. "Naturally we are not in charge there."
A Time to Love and a Time to Die Page 27