Fire and Steel, Volume 6

by Gerald N. Lund

  Mitch stopped, suddenly looking a bit mischievous. “Well, rather than me telling you what Jacob said, why don’t we just have Jacob come in here and tell you himself?”

  As people looked at each other in confusion, Mitch walked to the door and motioned with his hand. A moment later, Jacob and Adelia Reissner appeared, smiling broadly and waving to everyone. Behind them came their whole family, including Noah and Liesel.

  The surprise was total, and it took a second or two, then the room erupted. There were cries of welcome and enthusiastic applause. Benji was up and to them, gripping Jacob in a huge bear hug and kissing Adelia on the cheek. Then Benji went to greet Noah and Liesel.

  Mitch waited until things settled down again and then invited Jacob and Adelia to join them at the head table and the rest of the family to find seats with the others. Once they were seated, Mitch raised his hands and the group immediately quieted. “The Reissners have taken their children out of school and will be joining with the rest of us for the weekend.” More applause and cheers. “But, before we eat, Jacob has something that he would like to say. Kind of a ‘Welcome home, Benji’ speech.” He motioned to Jacob and sat down.

  Jacob’s smile was warm and welcoming as he stood and looked around the room. “How good to see you all again, and especially you, Benji. Adelia and I can’t wait to hear your story. But, after my phone call with Mitch, I got to thinking about you and Abby and your aspirations to serve missions. And I got curious and decided to contact a friend of mine who works for the Church in the Missionary Department. I asked him some questions about missionary work and missionary calls. Here is what I learned. The normal age for mission calls is age twenty or older for the brethren and twenty-one or older for the sisters.”

  “Which isn’t fair,” Abby growled. That brought a ripple of laughter.

  Jacob smiled at her and went on. “As Abby knows, because we have talked about this before, sister missionaries are a relatively new thing in the Church, starting right around the turn of the century. Preaching the gospel is a priesthood obligation, but not an obligation for the women. But the Brethren decided that sisters could serve if that was their desire. And so they began calling them. My friend told me that they have performed so well, especially in teaching people that the elders have difficulty reaching, that the Church has been sending out more and more sister missionaries now for over thirty years. They have proved their worth and their effectiveness over and over.”

  “No surprise there,” Abby said, smiling this time.

  “Hear, hear,” Benji called out.

  Jacob continued. “Recommendations for missionary service come from the bishops and stake presidents of the Church. These are sent to the Missionary Department, who then makes recommendations for tentative assignments. These recommendations then go to the Quorum of the Twelve and the First Presidency for approval. When approved, the Twelve actually make the missionary assignments. Once assignments are made, a mission call is sent out to the individuals in envelopes with Box B, Salt Lake City, as the return address. Like this.”

  He turned to Adelia, who was opening her purse. She removed an oversized grey envelope and handed it to him. Every eye was fixed upon it, and then a collective gasp went up. Ignoring them, Jacob examined the envelope more closely. “I see this one is addressed to Elder Benjamin Mons Westland, of Monticello, Utah.”

  “What!” Benji shot to his feet. “You’re kidding!”

  But Adelia still had her purse open. “Uh . . . Jacob?” He turned as she pulled a second envelope out and held it up. “Here’s another one.”

  He looked perplexed as there were more gasps. “But that can’t be,” he said, his face grave.

  Abby had gone rigid, eyes wide as one hand flew to her mouth.

  Adelia read it slowly. “It is to Sister Abigail Eliza Westland, Monticello, Utah.”

  “To me!” Abby squealed as she leaped up beside Benji.

  Jacob spoke. “When I told my friend about you two being twins and both desiring to go on missions, the Missionary Department made an exception to the age requirement and authorized Abby to leave on the same day as her brother. Congratulations, you two.”

  Amid wild cheers and whistles, Jacob motioned for Benji and Abby to join him. He handed the envelopes to the twins, who were looking somewhat dazed.

  “Well,” Mitch drawled as they stared at their names. “We’re getting hungry here, so get to it.” Edie picked up two steak knives and passed them to the twins. “Since you two were babies, you’ve done almost everything together. So announce your calls at the same time.”

  Hands trembling, they slit open the envelopes and removed the sheaf of papers. As they began to read the letters, their eyebrows shot up and they went wide-eyed in astonishment. Benji turned to his sister. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes!”

  “One, two, three.”

  Benji whooped, “East German Mission, Berlin, Germany!” At the same instant, Abby waved her letter as she shouted out, “British Mission, Liverpool, England!”

  And they fell into each other’s arms, laughing and whooping and shouting.

  Chapter Notes

  It is hard to determine exactly what the policies were concerning full-time missionaries in this era or when the “Box B” return address changed. We do know that most American missionaries’ service period in Germany was three years, until the war caused them to be called home early. We also know that the Church started calling full-time sister missionaries in 1898 and shortly thereafter publicly spoke about the contribution that the sisters could make to the missionary work of the Church. The supposition that the Missionary Department would make an exception for twin siblings is my own fictional device.

  September 13, 1935, 6:55 p.m.—Zeidner Home, Munich

  Guten Abend, Herr Zeidner.”

  “Guten Abend, Lisa. Good evening, Hans.” Then he turned to Emilee. “Richelle is on her way home from the library. It took her longer than she thought. So she will pull up in front of the house and honk. Otherwise you’ll be late for the concert.”

  Emilee nodded. “We’ll just wait outside.”

  “No need. You’ll hear her.” Alemann smiled warmly at her. Then he spoke to Lisa. “It’s good to have you back from Hitler Youth. How was it this year?”

  The question clearly surprised her, but she recovered quickly. “Ehhh! It was all right. The usual.”

  Hans gave her a skeptical look. “Which, translated, means, ‘It was awful, but I managed to survive.’”

  Lisa tossed her head and laughed. “Yeah, something like that.”

  “And have you heard from Benji—sorry, from Elder Westland—lately?”

  “I got a letter day before yesterday,” she said, her whole face lighting up. “In a week or two he’s going to be transferred to Dresden, in Saxony. And because his German is so good, they are going to make him a senior companion, even though he’s only been here for a little over three months. They’ve got a bunch of new missionaries coming in, so they’re going to have him start training others.”

  “Ah, that’s good, no? I mean for Benji?” When Lisa nodded, he added, “So Saxony is another hundred miles closer to us than Berlin. Do you think you’ll get to see him anytime soon?”

  “Oh, no,” she said cheerfully. “That’s not allowed.”

  “What? Even when he is that close?”

  She smiled shyly. “Benji told his mission president about our friendship when he first arrived here, and he made a commitment to him that he would never try to see me or contact me other than by letter. Not until he’s officially released.”

  “Hmm, interesting. And have you heard from Abby? She’s in England now, right?”

  “Yes. Jo and I got a letter from her a couple of weeks ago. She has an English sister as her senior companion and really likes her. They’re serving in Aberdeen, in the far north of Scotland righ
t now. She loves it there.” Then Lisa giggled softly. “She did say that she’s still struggling a little to learn the language, though.”

  Hans frowned. “Wait. Don’t they speak English in Scotland?”

  “Kind of,” Lisa said. “She said that one rainy night, she and her companion got lost. They finally stopped an older man on the street and asked for directions. She said that he seemed pleased to help them and gave them detailed instructions, speaking rapidly in his northern Scottish accent. When he finished and walked away, Abby said she turned to her companion and asked her if she had understood anything he had said. Her companion’s reply was, ‘I think I heard something about a “wee little roundabout” somewhere in there, but that was all.’”

  Hans and Alemann chuckled at that. Then Alemann nodded. “I think it is an incredible thing that your church does, sending young people out to serve others and learn new cultures.” Then he changed the subject. “And how is Jo doing? And your grandmother? In her last letter to Leyna, Jo sounded a little down.”

  “I think she’s finding it harder to be in America this time, probably because she knows it’s permanent. She sounded pretty homesick in her last letter to us too. But they got to spend a week down with the Westlands before school started, so that helped.”

  A horn sounded outside. “Oh, there she is,” Emilee said. She moved quickly to Hans and pecked him on the cheek. “Don’t wait for us. Richelle will drop us off at home.”

  “Have fun,” Alemann said. “Us old men are going to get a glass of wine and polish off a plate of Pfeffernusse cookies, then just kick back and relax.”

  “Sounds so exciting,” Lisa said, and she waved gaily to them as she followed her mother out the door.

  As the door closed, Hans said. “Pfeffernusse, eh? I’ll think I’ll take mine with some milk.”

  “Coming up.”

  7:11 p.m.

  “So,” Hans asked as he put his empty glass and plate on the coffee table, “how are things?”

  “About the same. Dean Eberhardt isn’t happy with me, but that’s old news.”

  “What now?”

  “He was not pleased with my paper on the Third Reich and organized religion. Felt it was too critical of the administration.”

  “Really? I thought you were very careful in how you worded it.”

  “I tried. But it’s more than that. He recently heard that the Reich Ministry of Science, Education, and Culture is reevaluating every college dean and department chair in the entire university system to make sure they are ‘pure.’ So, right now, he doesn’t want to rock the boat in any way.” Alemann snorted in disgust. “As if the boat is still afloat.”

  “Hold on. Are you saying that the university doesn’t get to choose its own deans?”

  “Not anymore. Not since the Nazis took over. They wouldn’t leave that to chance.”

  “But I thought Eberhardt had been here for several years.”

  “Sixteen, to be exact. Eight of those as dean. When Hitler came to power, and Eberhardt saw which way the wind was blowing, he set his sail accordingly and so they left him in place. Which reminds me, Hans. Did you fill out your application for the National Socialists Teachers’ League?”

  Hans grunted. “No. No. I’ve got it sitting on my desk, but I keep putting it off.”

  “Not wise, my friend,” Alemann said solemnly. “You know that membership is a requirement for every teacher in the Fatherland now, right?”

  “What? You’re joking.”

  “I am not joking. It is mandatory for all teachers from kindergarten to full professors at the universities and colleges. The Teachers’ League, by law, is responsible for ‘the execution of the ideological and political coordination of all teachers in accordance with the National Socialist doctrine.’ And that’s a quote.”

  Hans swore softly. “I had no idea. I’ll get it done in the morning.”

  “And don’t let Eberhardt know that you were slow. He’ll give birth to a cow right on the spot if he thinks you made him look bad.” Alemann sighed, and it was heavy with weariness. “Ah, Hans. The joy is gone. The patients have taken over the asylum. With Nazi textbooks fully implemented now, history is so twisted and falsified that our lectures have become a contest as to who can be the most ludicrous, the most boring, the most ridiculous. And what was once pure science is now ‘German science,’ ‘German physics,’ ‘German mathematics,’ or ‘German chemistry.’ As if there were no international community of scholars at all. What a laugh. We have dominated the physical sciences for generations and influenced the entire world. And now? Did you see that the new rector at the University of Berlin is a former storm trooper and a veterinarian? He’s already instituted twenty-five different Rassenkunde courses.”

  “Racial science courses? What does that mean?”

  “Courses on the purity of the Aryan people. Each course exalts the Germans as the master race and brands the Jews, Slavs, gypsies, and others as trash or subhumans who breed every evil and foul thing the world has ever produced. And these courses are required for all undergraduate students. All across the country they’re firing or otherwise driving out some of our most brilliant minds. Einstein and Franck in physics, Haber and Warburg in chemistry.”

  Hans nodded. “I saw that Einstein finally renounced his citizenship and emigrated to America.”

  “Ja, ja. He went to Princeton University. But can you blame him? Even some of his former colleagues and protégés turned against him. One professor had the gall to declare that ‘Jewish physics is a phantom and a degeneration of the fundamentals of German physics.’” Alemann threw up his hands. “Can you believe that kind of garbage?” He got to his feet and started pacing back and forth. “I don’t know, Hans. I’m thinking that maybe it’s time for me to get out.”

  Hans shot forward. “What? No, Alemann. You can’t do that.”

  “I’m sick of it. Playing their silly games. Putting on your best face when your insides are knotted up. Trying to conjure up another sycophantic smile as they drown you in their drivel.”

  “Hey!” Hans barked sharply. “You’d better not be serious. I’m just getting started here and you’re my mentor. You’re my sponsor. You’re my . . . my shield against Eberhardt.”

  “You don’t need me to protect your position now, Hans. After what you did with the last election, you’re the golden boy. He wouldn’t dare try to hold you back now.”

  “I’m not so sure.”

  “Just send that application in.” Alemann reached out and took one of the last three Pfeffernusse cookies. “You want another?” he asked, holding out the plate.

  “Not me. I’m stuffed.”

  Alemann took a bite, munched on it, followed it up with a swig of wine, then sat back again. “So what’s new with you?”

  Hans sat forward. He had been hoping that he might have an opportunity to bring this up. He cleared his throat. “Do you remember that phone call I got just before the Night of the Long Knives? From some guy in Berlin who identified himself only as ‘a friend’?”

  “I do. You never figured out who it was?”

  He shook his head. “No, and I’ve thought about it a lot.” He hesitated, then said, “He called again night before last.”

  Alemann was suddenly totally attentive. “He did? Why? Another warning?”

  “Not really. And, frankly, that’s what is so puzzling. It was more like he was sharing privileged information just to show me that he has access to privileged information. He was almost eager. It was actually a little strange.”

  “So what did he say?”

  “You’ve heard about the big Nazi Party rally to be held in Nuremberg in a couple of days?”

  “Of course. Who hasn’t? Every time you turn on the radio they’re rattling on about it.”

  “Well, evidently, according to him, during the convention they are having a spec
ial session of the Reichstag. Parliament will formally pass two new laws there.”

  “What kind of laws?”

  “Well, he said they’re calling them the Nuremberg Laws for convenience. They will be passed unanimously, of course. The Reichstag deputies are nothing more than six hundred puppets dancing on the same string. As I tell you what they are, remember the laws that have already been passed relating to the Jews.”

  Alemann lowered his head slowly, his eyes fixed on Hans. “This is about the Jews too?”

  “Ja, ja. It’s all part of this racial purity nonsense that they’re pushing now.”

  “Like what?” Alemann asked.

  “According to him, these two laws are the next major step in the National Socialist campaign to eliminate all Jewish influence in our society. They will add to the wave of anti-Semitism started by those previous laws.”

  “Yes. And the result has been catastrophic for the Jews. Many Jewish people are finding it very difficult to get even the basic necessities of life now. In some of the smaller villages, Jews can no longer even buy milk for their children. Pharmacies refuse to sell them medicine. Some communities are posting signs on the road like, ‘Jews Strictly Forbidden in This Town,’ or ‘Jews Enter at Your Own Risk.’”

  Hans frowned. “My brother-in-law down in Graswang, who is an ardently fanatic Nazi, told me about a traffic sign he saw one day over near Mannheim. It was placed just before a very sharp bend in the road. It read: ‘Sharp Curve Ahead! Germans Drive Carefully! Jews 75 MPH.’ He thought that was hysterically funny.”

  “So what did this caller tell you is coming?”

  “The first law is called the Law for the Protection of German Blood and German Honor. The typical high-sounding kind of name our government officials love. It forbids marriages and extramarital intercourse between Jews and German Aryans. Not only are new marriages of this type forbidden, but current ones are declared invalid. Annulment proceedings will be handled by federal prosecutors and start immediately, without regard to the couple’s wishes. He said the law will also forbid the employment of Aryan women under the age of forty-five in Jewish households. Jews are also going to be forbidden to fly the Reich flag or Reich colors at their homes or places of business.”