Fire and Steel, Volume 2

by Gerald N. Lund

  “I’ve been to Oberammergau several times,” Jacob said. “It’s this quaint little village with houses like Swiss chalets. They’re painted with murals of Alpine scenes or religious themes. There are all these wonderful little nutcracker shops. And it’s set in the mountains in a spectacular setting. One of the times we were there, we got to see the place where the play is put on. It’s a huge, open-air theater. The seating is covered, but the stage is large enough that they have shepherds drive live sheep and cows through the streets, and the Romans ride on real horses.”

  “They do it in years ending in zero, right?” Mitch asked. “So the next one should be in 1920? With the war, have you heard if they’re going to do it next year?”

  “No, they’re not. Because of how bad the economic and political situations are in Germany right now, they’re planning to postpone it a year. It’ll be in the summer of 1921.”

  Mitch turned to his wife. “I haven’t told Edie this yet, but someday, I’m taking her there.”

  She gasped. “We can’t afford to go to Germany. And besides, it’s too dangerous.”

  “I didn’t say we were going now. But someday.” He turned back to Jacob. “Maybe even 1921. That would give us two years to plan and give Germany time to settle back into normalcy.”

  Adelia and Jacob exchanged looks, and she whispered something to him. Whatever it was, it took him aback. He stared at her for a moment and then broke out in a huge grin. “Why not?” Then he turned to Mitch. “Would you ever consider—” He stopped, looking suddenly sheepish.

  “What?” Mitch asked.

  “Adelia and I have been talking about this very thing, about going to the Passion Play sometime. I’ve promised her that someday I will take her there.”

  “A promise I’m going to hold him to,” she said happily. “So. . . .” She looked at her husband, who nodded. She turned back to Mitch. “So, I know we’re just dreaming here, but would you ever consider us traveling together?”

  Mitch was caught by surprise, but then he exclaimed, “Yes! That would be delightful.”

  Edie, on the other hand, was really taken aback. “It sounds wonderful, but. . . .” She looked at Mitch. “We have to be realistic, Mitch. We’ll never be able to afford something like that.”

  He was smiling. “We sold a bunch of cattle to the army during the war. We’ve got a good part of that left in savings. We’ll just have to be careful that we don’t spend it on frivolous things. You know, like food, clothing, and shelter.”

  She slapped at his arm. “I’m serious, Mitch.”

  He instantly sobered. “So am I, honey. I’m not sure when, but someday it will happen.”

  Reissner snapped his fingers. “I know a family, who lives just four or five miles from Oberammergau. In fact, she was the last convert I baptized in the mission field.”

  “Really?” Mitch asked in amazement. “I didn’t think we had missionaries down there.”

  “We didn’t. But my companion and I had met her son, who was studying at a private school in Munich. We became close friends with the son, even though he had no interest in the Church. But through him, we met his aunt, and through that aunt, his mother. Her name is Schwester Inga Eckhardt. On the night that we were fleeing Germany, we had a three-hour stop in Oberammergau. So my companion and I decided to go visit Inga. To our amazement, she asked us to baptize her before we left. She had read the Book of Mormon her sister had given her and was converted by it. It was an astonishing experience, actually.”

  “Jacob writes to her all the time,” Adelia said. “She’s the one who told us that the Passion Play was postponed. She’s invited us to stay with them whenever we go to Oberammergau. And she said that includes anyone traveling with us. That would save us quite a bit of money.”

  Jacob was delighted. “Well, there you have it. We have a place to stay, good people to travel with, and we’ve solved all the money questions. So, what say you? Is it a deal?”

  Before Mitch or Edie could answer, Rena was waving her hand. “Can Bill and I go with you? We’ll pay our own way.”

  “Count us in, too,” Mitch Jr. said with a smile.

  Edie was shaking her head. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing.”

  Mitch leaned closer to her. “Sister Westland, the man asked you a question. Is it a deal?”

  “Do you promise me it will be safe?”

  “Yes, or we won’t go. If it were right now, I’d say absolutely not. But in two more years?” He took her hand. “It’s possible. You have my word, Edie. I will never put you in danger.”

  She gazed at him for several seconds, and then a twinkle began to dance in her eyes. “And do I get a say in which frivolous things we cut back on?”

  He chuckled. “Of course.”

  “Then, yes.” Edie said firmly, turning to Jacob and Adelia. “It’s a deal.”

  February 28, 1919, 2:37 p.m.

  When Edie appeared at the barn door, Mitch was momentarily startled. “Oh, hi.”

  She came inside, looking around. “Where are Benji and Abby?”

  “We’re up here, Mama,” Abby’s voice called out. A moment later, both of them appeared in the hay loft.

  “We’re making a fort,” Benji explained.

  “Okay,” she said. Then in that automatic way that mothers have, she added, “Be careful.”

  Edie walked over to where Mitch was filling a bucket, waving a white envelope at him. “Look what just came in the mail.”

  “Another bill?”

  “No, this is from Salt Lake.”

  With that he turned off the faucet and stood up. “From the Reissners?”

  “Yep.” She handed it to him.

  He looked at it and then looked up. “You opened it already?”

  She scoffed at his chiding tone. “If you look on the envelope, you will see that it is addressed to both of us.”

  He grunted in what she took for an apology, opened the envelope, and withdrew a card. He held it up at arm’s length and turned so the light from the door fell on it.

  SWISS-GERMAN MISSION REUNION

  April 5, 1919

  Brigham Young University Campus and Provo Tabernacle, Provo, Utah

  3:00–4:00 p.m. Registration, Karl G. Maeser Building, BYU

  4:00–5:00 p.m. General session and welcome, Maeser Building

  5:00–6:30 p.m. Picnic and social hour, southwest corner of Campus Drive (in case of inclement weather, BYU Academy Building, North University Avenue)

  7:00–8:30 p.m. Devotional with President Hyrum W. Valentine, Provo Tabernacle, corner of Center Street and University Avenue

  9:00–11:00 p.m. Dance and social, BYU Academy Campus

  Food and accommodations: For attendees who don’t have family in the area, housing and meals will be arranged with local members. Please write to this address immediately if you are in need of accommodations.

  Families: Due to restrictions set by the Utah Department of Health, this year’s reunion will be adults only. We expect that future reunions will include all family members.

  RSVP: Please return the enclosed card to Jacob Reissner, 324 C Street, Salt Lake City, Utah, no later than March 20th and let us know how many will be attending, if you need accommodations, or other special needs you may have. We look forward to a wonderful day together.

  Mitch lowered the card. “Well, that’s wonderful. They’re really doing it. We’ll go, right?”

  “Of course.” Edie turned the card over. “There’s a handwritten note on the back.”

  “Read it to me.”

  “‘Dear Mitch and Edie, we are so excited that this is finally happening. Your accommodations and meals are already arranged. No protests, please. San Juan County is not the only place that doesn’t like the word impose. You will be staying with us. Our trip to Arizona went well, but the highlight was our stop at the EDW. Love, Jacob and Adelia.’”

  She lowered the card. “So what do you think of that?”

  One finger came up. “Shush
!” he said.

  Her eyes narrowed. “Did you just tell me to shush?” she asked tartly.

  “Shhh. I’m thinking.”

  “About what?”

  “About going a couple of days early, seeing Salt Lake, maybe going to the temple.”

  A smile stole slowly across Edie’s face.

  He gave her a curious look. “What?”

  “Shhh!” she said. “No interruptions, please.”

  February 19, 1919, 8:47 a.m.—Prannerstrasse, near the Maximilianeum building, Munich, Germany

  It was a cold, wintry morning as Kurt Eisner left the prime minister’s palace surrounded by several body guards. The sky was low and the color of slate. There was still some snow on the streets and in the plazas, but he paid it no mind. He was rehearsing his speech for the opening session of the new Parliament, but his mind was going back, remembering.

  Could it be only three months ago that political chaos had swept the land like a tidal wave? In some ways it seemed liked decades, in other ways more like it had happened just this morning.

  The polls for the general election had closed a few days ago. In the new Bavarian Parliament that was being seated today, Eisner’s party got only three percent of the vote. They lost most of the few seats they had held before. And so, today, instead of welcoming the new members of Parliament as their prime minister, he was going to announce his resignation and walk away.

  Eisner laughed softly and bitterly. Finally, he was doing something the people would support him in. He sighed, his eyes lifting to stare at the graceful lines of the building ahead of him. And then he quickened his step, suddenly eager to be done with it.

  So lost was he in his own thoughts that Eisner did not notice the young army officer trailing behind them. Neither did his guards. Their eyes were fixed to the front, watching the milling crowds around the Parliament building.

  Count Anton Graf von Arco auf Valley was the son of one of Munich’s noble and influential families. Just twenty-two years old, he had been a lieutenant in the army and fought in France. Though one line of his family tree was Jewish, he was a fanatical anti-Semite. He was also an ardent nationalist who wanted to restore the monarchy and sweep out the “Communist trash.”

  Seething with rage, he wanted to prove that he was a man of action and not just empty words. And now, he was here. And his target was in sight. The Jew, the Communist, the man who had overthrown the monarchy after eight centuries, was just paces ahead of him.

  Anton drew his pistol and increased his pace. He heard a cry somewhere to his left and realized someone had seen his pistol. One of the guards started to turn around. Screaming “Death to the Jew, death to the Communist!” he lunged forward. He fired twice and saw that both bullets hit the back of Eisner’s head and sent him crashing to the ground.

  A wave of ecstasy coursed through him as he whirled and ran. The blasts from the guards’ rifles came almost as one explosion. He felt something hit him in the back with tremendous force. Everything went black before he hit the ground.

  4:10 p.m.—Bremer Strasse 122, Milbertshofen District, Munich

  Hans was on his knees, using a square and a carpenter’s pencil to mark and measure where his main workbench would go. He was concentrating hard, making sure that his measurements were precise. The bench was going to cost him almost seventy-five marks, and there would be no altering it once he put in the order at the mill.

  BAM! BAM! BAM!

  The hammering on the main door of the shop was like the sound of gunfire. Instinctively Hans crouched down and spun around.

  “Hans! Quick! Open up! It’s me, Wolfie!”

  Wolfie? Hans glanced at his watch. Wolfie had said he couldn’t be here until after six.

  “Let me in, Hans! Quickly!”

  Hans dropped the pencil, got to his feet, and swiftly walked to the small side door. He unlocked it and threw it open. Wolfie shot through, knocking him aside in his haste, and slammed the door behind him. Then he sagged back against the wall. His face was white and his chest was heaving. And then Hans saw the blood. He had a gash on his cheek, and dried blood ran down to his chin.

  “Wolfie! What happened?”

  “They’ve killed Eisner.” Wolfie’s hand shot out and gripped Hans’s arm. “They’re after me.”

  “What! Who? Why would they be after you?”

  “There’s rioting in the streets, Hans. The government has collapsed. The Communists and the Bolsheviks and the Spartacans have seized the Parliament building and are declaring that Bavaria is a Soviet Republic.”

  Hans’s jaw dropped. “That can’t be.”

  “A mob came to the public works building about three hours ago. They were armed and demanded that we turn over the building to them, that it was now the People’s Public Works Department. When my supervisor tried to reason with them, they shot him.”

  “They killed him?”

  He rubbed at his eyes. His hands were visibly trembling. “I don’t know, Hans. I don’t know.” A sob was torn from his throat. “We have to go. They know where I live.”

  Hans grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him gently. “Wolfie, calm down. You’re not making sense. How would they know where you live?”

  “They beat me up. Took my wallet. They have my identification card.” He jerked free. “We’ve got to go, Hans. Paula. The children. Inga. Emilee. We have to go now!”

  “Wait. Why would they be in danger?”

  “Because they hate us. They hate us because we are the government in their eyes. The man who hit me told me they were coming for all of us.”

  Hans swore, his mind racing. “Okay, okay. Do you have your car?”

  “Yes, it’s out front. I waited until they were looting the office, and I ran. Fortunately, the car was still in the parking lot. Now, Hans! We have to go now. I’ll drive.”

  “No!” Hans grabbed him and held him fast. “Anyone with a car will be a prime target.” He looked around. “Bring it in here. It’ll be safe here.”

  “No, Hans! I’ve got to get home to Paula before they do.”

  Shaking him hard enough to get his attention, Hans leaned in. “We’ll take the trolley. It will be safer. Faster too, if they’ve barricaded off any of the streets. I’ll open the main doors. You drive the car inside.” When Wolfie just stared at him, Hans gave him a shove. “Now, Wolfie!”

  A minute later they had the motorcar inside and the large doors shut, with a heavy beam in place. This was a quiet street, a block away from the main thoroughfare. He doubted anyone would find it.

  Wolfie was still pretty shaken and kept saying over and over, “Hurry, Hans. We’ve got to hurry.”

  Hans grabbed his jacket and put it on. Then he reached into the drawer of a small cabinet in the corner and retrieved his Luger. Wolfie’s eyes widened. “You’ve got a gun?”

  “Yes. But my rifle’s back at your house. Let’s go!”

  5:23 p.m.—Herrnstrasse 16, Obermenzing District, Munich

  As they approached the corner of Wolfie’s street, Hans grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop. “Easy,” he said in a low voice. Hans moved forward, his head swinging back and forth, scanning for any movement. The street was quiet and totally deserted. He watched for a moment and then nodded. “Okay, it’s clear. Let’s go.” They both broke into a run.

  Wolfie was yelling as they burst through the door. “Paula! Paula!”

  From the kitchen a voice answered. “Wolfie? Is that you?” A moment later she came through the door, Emilee and Inga following behind her, all of them smiling in greeting. Then Paula saw her husband’s face. She gasped, and then her knees nearly buckled as she went white as a sheet. “Wolfgang? What happened to you?”

  He ran to her and swept her into his arms. “It’s all right,” he said. “It’s all right. It’s just a scratch.”

  A scratch that would need stitches, Hans thought. He was an expert on that.

  Emilee rushed over to them. “What is it? What’s happened?”

  �
��Where are the children?” Wolfie asked, gripping Paula’s arms to steady her.

  “They’re—they’re upstairs playing.”

  “Go get them. We have to leave.”

  Hans took Emilee’s hand and pulled her over to his mother. He motioned for Paula to come, too. “The prime minister has been assassinated,” he explained. “There is rioting in the streets around the Parliament building.” Actually, Wolfie hadn’t said where the rioting was, but the Parliament building was a long way from where they were. He didn’t want the women panicking. “We’ve got to go.”

  “Go?” Paula cried. “Go where?” Inga stared at Hans in horror.

  “To Graswang,” he said without hesitation. The women gaped at him. That even brought Wolfie around with a jerk. Hans rushed on. “We have to leave, and we have to leave now. There may be men coming here. Pack one suitcase each. Leave everything else. Be sure you have your personal documents and any cash or valuables you need.” He squeezed Emilee’s hand. “I’m going to change into my uniform. Is my rifle still in the closet?”

  “Yes.” As Hans started to turn away, Emilee pulled him back. “Is it really that bad?”

  “It could be,” he said grimly. He put an arm around his mother’s shoulders. “Mama, go with Emilee. Pack only what you need. We need to leave quickly.”

  5:40 p.m.

  They gathered back into the living room. Bruno was very scared. Gretl was trembling a little but was trying to comfort him. The women were also pale as they lined up, each with a suitcase or valise. Hans did a quick assessment, his eyes stopping on Wolfie. “Wolf, you’ve got to wash that blood off your face. We don’t want people noticing us.”

  “I’ll help you,” Paula said as she followed him to the kitchen sink. Hans knelt down in front of Bruno. “I need you to be brave, Bruno. We men have to help the women, right?”

  Bruno sniffed and then nodded. Hans reached up and wiped away his tears with his thumbs. “Good. You and Gretl go over to the window.” He looked at Gretl. “Watch the street. Tell me if you see anything moving out there. Anything, okay?” They both nodded.