by Heinz Rein
‘That isn’t what I mean,’ Dr Böttcher cuts in, ‘I mean what crimes you would be committing if you took part in our work? High treason, undermining the war effort, violation of the Treachery Act, violation of the Decree for the Protection of People and State, propagation of foreign information and … I don’t need to tell you any more than that. For each of those crimes they will ruthlessly put a rope around your neck if they catch you. Are you clear about that?’
‘Completely,’ Lassehn confirms with a nod, and for a moment a smile crosses his face. ‘In fact, one crime more or less doesn’t matter, because by deserting I have already forfeited my life.’
Dr Böttcher gives Lassehn a penetrating look. ‘And you don’t want to rejoin your unit as a straggler?’
Lassehn shakes his head. ‘No, I’ve burned my bridges once and for all, so there can be no way back, Doctor. I don’t want to be over-dramatic about it, but I must tell you that something has grabbed hold of me, I would almost call it a holy rage. Before there was only revulsion, resistance and detachment in me, but that isn’t enough, now I have the urge to act, I feel as if a veil has suddenly been torn away.’
‘The boy is sound,’ Klose says, ‘and while he may be a little bit shy, he has courage, and he won’t be fooled too easily. Just look how quickly he took out his gun yesterday and wanted to fire a bullet into me …’
‘You wanted to kill …’ Wiegand begins in amazement.
‘I had no idea who I was dealing with,’ Lassehn apologizes, ‘because Mr Klose …’
‘Good God, Joachim, get to the point,’ Klose interrupts, laughing. ‘I’d just worked out that he’d run away from the front,’ he says to Dr Böttcher and Wiegand by way of explanation, ‘and he was afraid I might give him away. It was your right, son, I was very impressed! That’s my motto, if I get nabbed, I’m taking a few of the brothers with me.’
‘Have you finished, Klose?’ Dr Böttcher asks slightly impatiently. ‘I’d like to get to the subject at hand.’
‘Off you go,’ says Klose, he isn’t insulted and laughs broadly.
‘I was saying just now that we need to concentrate our work and at the same time put it on a firmer foundation, I think the most urgent task is to achieve influence over the Volkssturm. If there is a battle for Berlin, the Volkssturm can’t fight in our interest and everyone’s interest, and not in their own interest, because they are woefully under-equipped and have no combat experience, they would simply be rolled over. Even if it was a good and just cause, it would be a pointless, hopeless battle, all the more so in that every bullet we shoot, every shell we fire, means identification with the most barbaric system in the history of the world. We must explain to the men in the Volkssturm that …’
‘You will explain nothing at all to them,’ Klose interrupts. ‘It would be a waste of breath.’
‘We need to explain to them,’ Böttcher continues unperturbed, ‘that the war needs to be concluded as soon as possible to save what there is still to be saved; if our city isn’t to end in complete carnage, they have to understand that they won’t defend their wives and children by fighting, but by throwing down their weapons; and, starting at Volkssturm level, find a way to get to the Wehrmacht. It is self-evident that we always have to sound out our opponent, as boxers put it, you need to be delicate, find the right people and say the appropriate words. I think theoretical discussions are pointless, the right thing to do is to approach each individual in person, he will draw general conclusions unless he’s particularly anti-social, all by himself. Did I express myself comprehensibly?’
‘Entirely,’ Wiegand confirms.
‘As plain as the nose on your face, Professor,’ Klose says.
Dr Böttcher nods. ‘I would suggest that you only use the best people for this task, one slip could be deadly for everyone. But we always have to resist the resigned and depressing opinions that always end with the sentence “There’s no point”. At present we can’t judge whether our work has a point and a meaning; we are too much in the middle of things, we will know the truth eventually, but even if it turns out to be pointless and meaningless, we are obliged to go on because our conscience demands it. There are only three possibilities: firstly, to work in armaments or fight with weapons, and so become complicit with fascist crimes; secondly, to act as a resigned bystander or wait, that is, to aid the crime; and thirdly, active opposition. For us there is only that third possibility. If we are accused of conspiring against our own fatherland, I can only reply that if this is our fatherland, this state ruled by Hitler and Himmler, then I’m no longer a German. A country in which freedom, humanity and justice are outmoded concepts can never be my fatherland.’
Dr Böttcher pauses and clears his throat. ‘We need to say that to those who have become indecisive, or who are about to become so, and besides, the facts are unambiguously on our side. I expect the Russian offensive over the next few days, and without a doubt it will reach as far as Berlin. Why do you look so downcast, Mr Lassehn?’
Lassehn has wrapped his arms around his knees and lowered his eyes. ‘I can’t yet take part in this work,’ he says candidly. ‘I don’t yet dare to.’
‘We wouldn’t have involved you anyway, lad,’ Klose says resolutely, ‘but there is still more to be done, for example tomorrow … Oh, yes, tomorrow you want to go to Eichwalde for Wiegand.’
‘But not until the late afternoon,’ Wiegand says, ‘by day it would be better if he didn’t show his face.’
‘Well, then, that’s all fine,’ Klose says, ‘then tomorrow he can pick up some flyers and bring them to you, Doctor.’ He turns back to Lassehn. ‘Right, on with our entertainment.’
Lassehn is about to reply, but Dr Böttcher interrupts. ‘Our friend Klose likes to express himself with a certain amount of humour, he has his own names for things, but I wish once again to draw your attention to the seriousness – and also to the importance – of our work. Please bear one thing in mind: you don’t owe any answers to anyone you don’t know very well. The Gestapo have thugs everywhere, they disguise themselves so skilfully that they can barely be recognized. At this opportunity I would like to describe to you an episode that will give you an idea of how cleverly the Gestapo works.’
Dr Böttcher closes his eyes for a few seconds and then firmly stubs out his cigarette in the ashtray. ‘A few months ago a man came to my surgery, about thirty-five, tall, strong, strikingly well fed, he had a sick note from the Berlin Public Transport Company and he complained about stomach pains. I gave him a thorough examination but couldn’t find anything. Now with stomach conditions that isn’t unusual, there are illnesses that are extremely difficult to establish, even an X-ray doesn’t always provide an exhaustive explanation. This man, whose name was Altenberger, was at first a patient like any other, he came to see me regularly, I would give him a prescription, and he only told me what was absolutely necessary. I was annoyed, because I could find no precise diagnosis and wanted to send him to a specialist, but he didn’t want that, I had been recommended to him, and he trusted me. There is nothing unusual about that either, I have often experienced that kind of thing, because patients are unpredictable, and trust in your doctor is often a better treatment than the best medicine.
‘After this man Altenberger had consulted me a few times, on his fifth or sixth visit he started discussing political matters; at first he spoke quite generally, before becoming clearer, even though I did nothing to encourage him. He cursed Hitler and the damned war, and he clearly expected me to join in. Now I am unusually careful and reserved, and I’m not given to expressing my opinions. I criticized the way he was talking. Of course, there was a chance that the man was genuine, but there were various things about him that struck me as odd, so I maintained my discretion.’
‘Listen carefully, Joachim,’ Klose cuts in, ‘you might learn something.’
‘The way someone expresses his disaffection is actually an infallible sign,’ Dr Böttcher continues, ‘because there’s cursing and cursing, w
hether it is done with conviction or according to a predetermined plan is something that most spies don’t bear in mind. Cursing doesn’t just consist of words, the eyes and the voice, the facial expression and body movement are part of genuine cursing, or else they remain somewhat uninvolved, you see, and in the case of this fellow Altenberger the eyes didn’t join in at all, there always seemed to me to be something cold lurking in the background, and his movements and facial expressions looked as if he’d learned them, exactly as if he had stood in front of a mirror and rehearsed it all.
‘But in spite of my adverse response the man wouldn’t let go, he kept on and on, and in the end he stopped cursing and instead said quite openly that he was trying to make contact with resistance groups or people who were living underground. I asked him why he came to me with this request, and pretended to be shocked. He replied that people were most likely to express themselves to a doctor, and I was known as a man with no time for National Socialism. I told him furiously that I had no idea how I had acquired that reputation, but he merely laughed. I refused to speak like that, and hoped that I could get rid of him in that way, but the man came back and went on consulting me, but never again did he utter a single superfluous word. It was quite clear that he was trying to win my trust.
‘I became indecisive, because if he really was a genuine opponent of fascism, of course I regretted turning him away, and since I am very thorough in everything I do, and always get to the bottom of things – qualities that every doctor ought to have – I once asked him in passing who had recommended me to him. He couldn’t quite remember, he said, he thought it had been one of his colleagues. Now at that time I had a few transport workers and office staff as patients, and even in the past transport workers had come to my surgery, so it was entirely possible.
‘Anyway, I decided to look into the matter, it wasn’t just a question of making sure an informer had nothing on me, I would also have to reorganize my whole operation, given that many of our people came to my practice as patients to receive instructions and material. Altenberger’s sick note bore the address 10 Neue Königstrasse. When I had to make a patient visit on Weinstrasse it occurred to me that Altenberger lived not far away, so I dropped by his address, and it turned out that 10 Neue Königstrasse had been completely destroyed, as long ago as November 1943. There was still a possibility that the personnel office had accidentally put his old address on the sick note. As everything on either side of Neue Königstrasse had also been destroyed, and there was no one I could ask, I went to the police station on Jostystrasse and asked for Gustav Altenberger, whose personal details I had on his sick note. Unknown, never lived here, was the information, there was no one of that name in the list of residents.
‘So the matter was quite clear. Now I put it to the test. The next time he complained of severe stomach pains, I prescribed him something which, in those doses, would cause unusually severe cardiac disturbances, because I wanted to know if he was actually taking the medication.
‘When he reappeared two days later I asked him how the treatment had gone, and he assured me that it had been excellent.
‘Now I knew for certain that the man was not ill in the slightest. He wasn’t taking the medications I had prescribed for him, he only came to me to get access to a resistance group and then expose them. Now the question arose of how I could get rid of him without making myself suspicious. I did the most sensible thing in such situations, I let him run himself into the ground, that is, I went on treating him for his supposed stomach condition and didn’t react to any of his remarks. In the end he probably acknowledged the pointlessness of what he was trying to do, but he still tried to make me fall into another trap by asking to be written off sick, but I refused to accede to his request, as I couldn’t find anything wrong with him. And in the end I ensured that he stopped coming.
‘My decision not to let myself get involved may be considered justified by the fact that I recently saw Altenberger again, wearing an SS uniform with the ominous SD insignia. So you can see that it’s impossible to be too careful. Having shaken somebody’s hand a few times isn’t nearly enough. Unfortunately there are some among us who are too trusting; if they encounter a face a few times, it belongs to an acquaintance, and of course it immediately slackens the reins otherwise imposed by caution. The need for trust is absolutely understandable and very estimable, but in the present circumstances it is completely inappropriate, you must have the gift of looking inside people, to tell what is genuine about them and what is fake.’
‘You’re just frightening the boy, Doctor,’ Klose says as the doctor pauses for a moment.
Lassehn shakes his head and waves his hand dismissively.
‘If it frightens him,’ Dr Böttcher replies, and looks seriously at Lassehn, ‘then he shouldn’t get involved. I just want to make him aware that each of us is in a sense walking a tightrope, and will plunge to our deaths if we don’t keep our balance precisely. I want to say the following, Lassehn: don’t try to improvise, but act precisely according to the instructions given to you, unless an unforeseen situation or threat arises, and then you will have to decide for yourself. Do we understand each other?’
Lassehn nods. ‘Perfectly, Doctor. I have only one last question. How do I identify myself to third parties, or how do I make it clear to them that …’
Dr Böttcher smiles.
‘We won’t just give you a password, we’ll give you a whole bunch of keywords as well by way of identification, and Klose will give you thorough instructions.’ He pauses for a second and then addresses Wiegand again. ‘Now I have something else to discuss with you, my dear Wiegand. Didn’t you say just now that you were close to making contact with another group?’
‘Yes, but I hesitated,’ Wiegand replies. ‘It’s one Richard Schröter from 12 Petersburger Strasse, he’s …’
‘He’s a good man,’ Dr Böttcher says with a smile, ‘he’s even very good, he’s quite well known under the name of Rumpelstiltskin.’
‘You know him?’ Wiegand asks, surprised.
‘Very well, he isn’t just my patient …’
‘So you’re the good doctor who gives him Pervitin to swallow before he has to go to the slave-drivers of the AOK.fn1’
Dr Böttcher is slightly put out. ‘So he told you that?’
‘Yes, but only in passing, and only when it was clear who and what I am,’ Wiegand replies. ‘Are you unhappy about that?’
The concerned wrinkles on Dr Böttcher’s forehead have quickly smoothed themselves out again.
‘Where you’re concerned, Wiegand, not at all, we are not just waging our little war against Hitler and Himmler with guns, flyers and sabotage, but also with injections and forgeries. Schröter is absolutely impeccable, on several occasions he acted as a go-between for me and another group that called itself “Ringbahn”. They did good work, and among other things the fire at Knorr-Bremse was down to them.’
Wiegand frowns again. ‘Knorr-Bremse? Then they are adorning themselves with false laurels, because that fire was caused by a bombing raid.’
Dr Böttcher nods. ‘That seemed to be the case, but there were only a few stick-type incendiary bombs and a phosphorus canister, nothing at all in the larger grounds, and it was only because the anti-air-raid defences weren’t working properly, the water hoses had been cut through and the hydrants filled with sand, that the fire was able to spread to the extent that it did.’
‘Very good,’ Klose says, and rubs his hands. ‘The lads are quite right.’
‘Schröter is coming to my surgery tomorrow,’ Dr Böttcher says to Wiegand. ‘Do you want to come along? Then you could talk to Schröter about various things, because he’s also in contact with the “Scala” group in the west.’
‘Fine, I’ll come,’ Wiegand says. ‘What time?’
Dr Böttcher thinks for a moment. ‘At about six,’ he says. Take a seat in the waiting room and I’ll see you last.’
‘Let’s do that,’ Wiegand says, ‘and otherwise
…’
The bell in the corridor rings stridently.
‘Someone at the door,’ Klose says, and jumps to his feet. ‘Damn it all, who’s turned up at this time of night?’
‘Cool head,’ Wiegand says.
‘Warm feet,’ Klose adds. ‘Come on Joachim, you disappear. Let’s see who’s paid us the honour.’
XV
15 April, 10.30 p.m.
Klose comes back into the room with a man. It’s as if the two had been brought together as a demonstration of contrast. Klose is of medium height and portly of physique, the other man unusually tall and gaunt, Klose is dressed in casual civilian clothes, while the other man wears the stiff brown uniform of the political functionary, Klose speaks slowly and without hand gestures, while the other man speaks over-hastily and waves his arms wildly in the air.
‘This is Mr Sasse, our block warden and air-raid warden,’ Klose says with a gesture that is more of a demonstration than an introduction. He stands slightly behind their uninvited guest and casts warning glances at Dr Böttcher and Wiegand.
‘Heil Hitler, gentlemen!’ the brown-clad man says and raises his right hand in a salute.
Dr Böttcher and Wiegand murmur a few vague words through half-closed lips.
Sasse turns back to Klose. ‘Your blackout isn’t working quite correctly, Mr Klose. Let’s take a look at what’s wrong with it.’ His voice has a benign tone, like that of a teacher pointing out a pupil’s minor errors, having already forgiven them.
While Sasse goes to the window and tests the blackout roll by pressing it firmly against the window frame, Dr Böttcher and Wiegand pick up their cards and fan them out. It looks as if they had been interrupted in the middle of a game.
‘It would appear that your blackout is adequate,’ Sasse says, and turns back to face the room, ‘you should apply some grips or battens at the sides so that the paper fits firmly.’ As he speaks, his eyes run through the room, pierce every corner and peer into every cranny, they study the two men and for a few seconds they linger on the door that leads to the restaurant.