Forever Fleeting

by Bret Kissinger

  Near the camp, men sorted through the dog tags of the fallen, and others typed last names, first names, and ranks. A man typing finished another page and set it on a stack of papers nearly two inches thick.

  “What will they do with them?” Hannah asked.

  “They’ll notify the family,” a nurse said.

  Families that had no idea their son, their brother, their husband or their father had died. They could be laughing and smiling at that exact moment with no way of knowing their lives had changed forever. But it would be closure families of the concentration camps would not get. There would be no answers to what happened.

  The boat ride back to Portsmouth was quiet apart from the ship ripping through the waves. Hannah was once again leaving France and the European mainland behind. And again, her heart was heavy, contemplating the unfathomable loss of human life. Kay had stayed with General Eisenhower, as she should have. She was a close confidant, and whether the relationship was something more Hannah did not know nor did she care to. The city which had been home to thousands of Allied troops for the last several weeks was now a ghost town of haunting memories. The paths that had once been beaten with pounding boots were now silent. The laughter coming from the camps was gone. Only the wind swept through them with shrilling melancholy.

  Hannah walked past the Southwick House and kept heading north. She had no ride to London, yet she did not want to try and fall asleep. She had helped as much as her heart would allow her to. She walked through the slow falling rain for an hour until she came to a bus stop. The bus route had not been operational at night ever since the outbreak of the war. Headlights were a good target. But it did have a payphone. She lifted the phone off the receiver and spun the number dial and called the one man she knew who could get her out of Europe.

  “Minimax Fire Extinguisher Company. How can I help you?” a familiar voice answered the call.

  It was Jane.

  “Direct me to the man upstairs,” Hannah said.

  “May I ask who is calling?”

  It was close to three in the morning, and Jane had either stayed extremely late or started her day extremely early.

  “Hannah Smith.”

  A long pause made Hannah question if Jane had hung up.

  “Hannah?” Menzies asked.

  There was interference in the audio quality.

  “Chief Menzies, I want to go to America,” Hannah said.

  Another short pause.

  “Where are you?”

  “About four miles north of Southwick. By the bus station.”

  “Stay there. I will send an agent.”

  “Thank you.”

  She placed the phone back onto the receiver and took a seat on the bench. Sprinkling rain quickly turned into a torrential downpour. It seemed the entire world was crying over what had happened, not just in Normandy but throughout Europe and the Pacific. Hannah had no idea how long she sat there with the rain soaking her clothing and flesh. Even if the rain chilled her to her very bones, it soothed her. It was music as it ricocheted off buildings and hit the streets and sidewalks. Her thoughts drifted to Wilhelm. Normandy was an awful event but, like Auschwitz, it was not a singularity. To think Wilhelm had not seen horrors like the Americans, British, and Canadians had was foolish and disrespectful. She sat in the darkness until a pair of headlights came toward her. The black car looked almost invisible in the darkness before it pulled to a stop.

  Otto exited the car and jogged toward her. “Hannah,” he called. He helped her to the car and turned the heat up. Reaching into the back seat, he grabbed a green and white plaid blanket. Hannah wrapped it around her body. “Why are you not in Portsmouth?” Otto asked.

  “I was. I saw the beaches,” Hannah said.

  The way she had said it and the look in her eyes told Otto it was too awful to speak of. He had been quite the gentlemen to Hannah and respected her desire for silence. She only stared blankly out of the window as the road sped by. She only knew they had reached the Minimax Fire Extinguisher Company building when the road stopped moving.

  “Do you want to change first? I am sure we can scrounge up some clothes,” Otto asked.

  “No, I am fine,” Hannah said. She had been through much worse than being soaking wet.

  “Very well,” Otto said. He allowed Hannah to ascend the steps herself. She left pools of water with each step she climbed. The office was empty, and the only light on in the floor was the one coming from Menzies’ office. Hannah stepped into his office.

  “You look a fright,” Menzies said, looking at the blanket draped over her shoulders and wrapped around her. He rose from his desk. “Let me get you something,” he said.

  “I am fine,” Hannah said.

  “What happened, Ms. Smith?” Menzies asked.

  “I was in Portsmouth like you asked. I helped the wounded during the invasion.”

  “Yes, Kay Summersby gave a great review on your behalf. It seems you served the Allies quite well.”

  “Will you help me get to America?”

  Menzies was silent, and Hannah expected a disappointing answer. He would make her serve yet again—perhaps, infiltrate the high German society or serve in North Africa.

  “Yes, I will. Your part in the war is over, my dear. You have sacrificed much and have done what you can. I thank you and the mothers of the boys you helped treat thank you,” Menzies said.

  “The dead won’t hear you,” Hannah said.

  Menzies gave her a grim look with eyes filled with apology.

  “There are no ships leaving from London to New York, I am afraid,” Menzies informed.

  Remarkably, Hannah did not feel dejected. She had grown to consider New York to be as unreachable and mythical in status as Atlantis.

  “You will need to travel to Glasgow. I shall arrange it. You will travel aboard the Queen Mary. She is the fastest ship in her majesty’s fleet. It currently serves as troop transport,” Menzies said.

  “Excellent. When can I leave?” Hannah asked.

  “There is a train that leaves at six, some two and a half hours from now. I shall make the proper arrangements. You are welcome to stay until then. Are you sure I cannot get you something to drink?”

  “Just water, please.”

  “Very well.”

  He disappeared for roughly twenty minutes, ensuring Hannah had a spot on not only the train but the Queen Mary as well. When he returned, he had a small tin cup of water and a dry blanket made of wool. Hannah thanked him as he handed her the water. Menzies removed the wet blanket from her shoulders and covered her with the dry one. It was considerably warmer than the drenched flannel one she had been draped in.

  “You did well, Agent,” Menzies said and smiled softly.

  “Promise me you will shut the camps down?” Hannah said.

  “We will do all that we can,” Menzies said.

  It would be too late for thousands. At that second, many of the prisoners in the camps were dying in their bunks. More would die when the sun would rise and the trains would arrive.

  Exhaustion finally set in, but Hannah would not risk oversleeping and missing her train. The train ride to Glasgow, Scotland would be roughly four to six hours, and she would have nothing to do but sleep. Her small suitcase of clothing Josephine had given her was returned to her, and she went into the women’s lavatory and changed out of her blood-stained and rain-soaked grayish blue nurse’s uniform into an emerald, sleeveless, knee-high summer dress. Hannah watched the clock, and at 5 a.m. sharp, she said her goodbyes. It was not a fraction as difficult as it had been saying goodbye to Josephine and Radley or Eleanor and Trugnowski. She did not know either Otto or Menzies as well and knew they had gotten use out of her. They never would have extended a helping hand had Hannah not extended one first.

  Otto drove her to the train station and offered to wait until she was on the train, but Hannah politely refused.

  “Go get yourself some breakfast,” she said.

  Otto smiled, handed her a
nother stack of tickets and identification papers and got back into his car and drove away. The train was already there, and Hannah and the other passengers waited for permission to board. The train was much more inviting than the cattle car to Auschwitz had been, yet the same fear of the train remained. The shout came to board. Hannah took a deep breath and willed herself to step aboard. She feared she would step onto the train and to an empty room, a floor covered with human waste, a bucket, and a thick fog of heat. But the train was far from that. The seats were soft gray cushions with overhead storage, and clean glass windows to see the English countryside. She took a seat by the window and secured her suitcase between her feet.

  It was another twenty minutes or so until the train sputtered forward. A loud shriek echoed outside. Hannah watched as the city of London disappeared beside and behind the train. Her eyes closed and, soon, she was fast asleep with the side of her head resting against the glass window. She had finally arrived at that metaphorical house after weeks of driving by it and missing the turns. If she woke the entire train ride to Scotland, it was only to shift in her seat to find the most optimal comfort she could. But even in her deep sleep, her body could feel the train slowing down, and she awoke without much struggle. The train was empty apart from fathers and mothers visiting children who had been sent far north, away from the Nazi nighttime bombing blitz. Hannah followed the dozen passengers ahead of her and stepped out to a torrential downpour. Lightning flashed, and the clouds rumbled like a growling dog, and every once in a while, it barked.

  “Miss Smith?” a woman asked.

  “Yes,” Hannah said hesitantly.

  “I have been expecting you. Chief Menzies called. I am Agent Sorcha,” the woman said in a thick Scottish accent. She was dressed similar to Otto, and she had short, curly, dirty blonde hair. Her lips were chapped, and her fingers looked to be as long as rulers. Hannah was reminded of the famed pilot Amelia Earhart. She held the umbrella in her hand further out to shield Hannah from the rain. “I will take you to the Queen Mary. It isn’t a far drive,” she said.

  Hannah had to laugh internally over how the car Sorcha drove and the car Otto drove were identical. She could only hope that when they were undercover, they were a bit less conspicuous. Sorcha was right. The drive lasted ten minutes. They made it to the waters of Firth of Clyde of Glasgow in northwest United Kingdom.

  The Queen Mary itself looked almost indistinguishable from the Titanic. Hannah had heard much of the famed shipwreck both in school and from Wilhelm. The only difference that could be seen from land was that the Queen Mary had three funnels, not four, and the ship had been painted navy gray.

  “That’s the Queen Mary?” Hannah asked.

  “Ey, the Grey Ghost we call her. Fastest ship in the war. Hitler has a bounty of two hundred fifty thousand and the Iron Cross for any U-Boat captain that can sink her,” Sorcha said proudly.

  The ship had looked small, but with each dozen feet they moved closer, the size of the ship increased proportionately. The ship itself was over a thousand-feet long and over a hundred-and-eighty-feet high. It had been a luxury liner before the war had broken out and, during the war, had become one of England’s most reliant ships. It was Prime Minister Churchill’s preferred ship to cross the Atlantic on.

  “Safe travels to you,” Sorcha said.

  “Thank you,” Hannah said.

  Sorcha did not delay and returned to her car. An English soldier stood at the rail. Hannah walked across the ramp connecting the dock and the ship and handed the tall, lengthy soldier her ticket.

  “Welcome aboard the Queen Mary, Miss,” he greeted, stepping aside and making room for her to enter.

  The ship had dropped off roughly a thousand Americans who would join the fight in the European theatre and, now, would be bringing a German immigrant back on its return journey. Hannah suspected other members of government were on the ship and knew both Americans and Brits crossed “the pond” to deliver information too valuable to risk being intercepted. But even with the other people aboard and the countless crew, Hannah once again was alone. Yet, this time, it appeared to be so much different.

  The Queen Mary sped away from the coast of Scotland and toward Ireland, leaving a sea of waves in its wake. Hannah had not been home in over four years. She had traveled all over Europe yet, now, she was leaving the continent behind. She sailed across the world alone to an unknown place. When she was a child, she had imagined visiting New York with her mother and father. When she met Wilhelm, it was him by her side in those dreams. But the reality was much lonelier.

  Even though it was past noon, Hannah traveled below the sea deck to find her staying room. The lavish liner had its furniture removed and replaced with triple-tiered bunks of wood for troops to sleep on. The ship’s tapestries, paintings, china, and crystal had been removed. The fine woodwork in the staterooms and dining rooms had been covered in leather. Hannah had a modest room with a bunk, much like the three-tiered bunks with a small circular window to look out. She pulled the black curtain over the window.

  The ship approached dangerous waters, and if a torpedo blasted into it, there would not be much chance of surviving. If anyone did, it would be through sheer luck, much like the way anyone had survived the storming of the beaches. If the ship was struck while she slept, there would not be a better way to go.

  Hannah took a look at the pocket watch the farmer had given her and set it on the counter beside her. The air outside the ship had been cool, and it was hard to believe it was summer. Yet, the Northern Atlantic had its own climate. The chill that came off the water penetrated through the ship’s hull like no torpedo could. Hannah lifted the navy-colored blanket and white sheet and crawled into bed and tossed them back over herself. She had always needed to fall asleep on her back, yet that was before she had slept on wooden beams they called bunks in Auschwitz. Even the more comfortable places she had stayed had not given her the instant relaxation and comfort your own bed could give. It all had given Hannah the ability to sleep anywhere at any given moment. She slept so deeply that no dreams came to her.

  When she woke, the room was covered in darkness. She reached for the pocket watch and grabbed it and went to the window. She pulled open the black curtain, and the glow from the night sky cast enough light for her to see it was after 11:30 p.m. But now that she was up, she was no longer tired and knew if she laid in bed, she would simply stare at the ceiling. Even that was tempting because of how warm the bed had become. But she had already flipped her covers over, and any heat trapped inside had disappeared. She put her shoes back on and left her room. The halls were barren, and as she made her way up to the sea deck, there were only a few crew members around. Hannah had never seen the stars so perfectly clear with no city lights to ruin the view. The black expanse went on forever, and it was truly amazing how many stars were in the sky. It was incredibly peaceful. Even the water was calm, and it was impossible to tell the difference between where the ocean ended and where the sky began.

  When Hannah looked over the railing, and the sights of the ship were out of her peripheral, she floated through space itself. It was hard to believe the world was at war for out here, there was nothing. That was terrifying, yet freeing in a way few ever experienced. She was a pilgrim waiting to discover the new world. Hannah stayed on the deck until two in the morning until she went back to her room and fell asleep. She awoke early the next morning and bothered every crew member she could find to see what she could to do help. She was not eager to be a useless appendage, nor was she keen on being in someone’s debt. But there was not much she could do apart from cleaning, as the other positions required months of military training. Her help had been politely refused nearly a half-dozen times, and if she asked any more, she would have been considered a nuisance—something she too did not want. She went the entire next day without speaking a word to anyone. The government officials were locked in their rooms, and the crew members were far too busy. The Queen Mary was now well over half-way across the At
lantic.

  Hannah found a deck of playing cards and killed several hours playing solitaire or shuffling the cards. She had not held a deck of cards since Lena’s house so long ago. As she shuffled, the games they had played and the memories they made came back to her at once. At dusk on the fourth day, Hannah was told the ship would reach New York City by midnight. She waited until eleven before putting the cards into her suitcase and hurrying up to the deck so she could see the city as they approached. But it was nothing but blackness in the horizon for the next half hour until the bright lights of the New York skyline rose like ignited steel giants. The Statue of Liberty was bathed in spotlight, inviting the troubled, lost souls of the world.

  “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,” it said.

  The Statue of Liberty stood proudly at what her country stood for.

  Hannah’s eyes glistened with tears of joy. She had finally arrived in New York. There had been so many near misses, so many moments that could have gone the other way. Something else besides the chilly sea breeze washed over her. It was a feeling of security for the first time—not just since the war had broken out but since she could remember. Hitler had risen to power when she was thirteen. Her childhood years were filled with too much innocence for her to remember anything bad. Wilhelm had once read her a quote about the ancient Greek city of Sparta: “Sparta has no walls because you, her warriors, are her walls.” The same was true of the United States. There were no walls, no fences, no motes. Yet, the brave fighting men had seen to it that there was an invisible barrier. To try and cross it, one would be met with a tenacious defense of freedom.

  The Statue of Liberty reminded her of one of the old Spartan sculptures of a warrior holding his shield and spear. The Statue of Liberty had no shield, no spear. Instead, its weapons were a torch, a beacon of light for damned souls caught in darkness, and a tablet with the date July 4, 1776—the date when the colonists under British tyranny cried out in a singular voice for freedom, demanded rights, and yearned for the pursuit of happiness. The statue itself was on Liberty Island, but it was Ellis Island all immigrants went through. The island was synonymous with sanctuary. Every feeling Hannah hoped and expected she would feel when she reached America she felt. Her tears showed worry, fear, and anxiety, but her smile showed relief, excitement, and hope. It was such an emotional overload that she stopped breathing momentarily.