Fire and Steel, Volume 6

by Gerald N. Lund

  Lisa’s squeal probably startled birds for miles around as she darted past Jo and ran up the steps. “Oma! Oma! Oma!” she cried.

  Finally, Lisa turned and gave her parents an accusing look. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Then to her grandmother, “How long have you known you were coming home?”

  Inga answered her initial question first. “We didn’t tell you because we didn’t tell anyone except your parents. And even then we did that very carefully, using coded language so that if someone was monitoring our calls or letters, they wouldn’t understand what we were really saying.”

  That shocked Lisa, and she turned to her father. “Is the Gestapo still watching you, Papa?” Then she remembered that Jo didn’t know anything about what had happened back in February. “Oh, sorry,” she said, ducking her head.

  “It’s all right,” Emilee said. “We’ve told Jo and Mama Inga all that happened.”

  “About the Zeidners too?” Lisa cried, shocked by that announcement.

  “Yes,” Hans said. “The children know nothing, but you and Jo are young women now. You need to know what’s going on so you can be especially careful.” He glanced at Jo. “For example, we can’t have you talking to the kids in school about the Zeidner girls. If anyone does bring up their names, you both have to be shocked and outraged that you were duped by them.”

  Lisa asked her question again. “So, is the Gestapo still watching you, Papa?”

  Hans sighed. “Not in the way you’re thinking.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “I am certain that I satisfied Colonel Keitel, head of the Gestapo in Munich. Thanks to Alemann’s brilliant plan, especially having us ‘lose’ five thousand marks. I’m sure that he is convinced that we are victims of their perfidy, as he liked to call it. If he weren’t, I’m sure I would have been put through a much more rigorous interrogation than I was. But the Gestapo is very thorough, and we can’t let down our guard in any way. We’re pretty sure our phone is tapped now. We’ve heard clicks on the line a couple of times. And we know that they’re opening some of our mail, especially your mail coming from America. They don’t even bother to tape the envelopes shut again.”

  Lisa nodded, but her brow was still furrowed. “So what does that mean for Jo? Does she go to Hitler Youth next summer?”

  “No!” Emilee said emphatically. “Not ever!”

  “But how can you—”

  Jo spoke up. “Okay, first of all, no one knows I’m home yet. Everyone in Utah, except for Aunt Paula and Mitch and Edie, think we came home for a quick holiday and are going back. They all think we are staying in Utah for two more years.”

  “And I won’t be going back to the Bogenhausen Academy this fall,” Jo went on.

  That swung Lisa around. “Where will you go?” She again looked to her parents.

  “Jo will be attending a small Catholic school in Thalkirchen District,” Emilee explained. “It’s only half an hour by trolley, so Jo will be able to come home on weekends and holidays.”

  “And what happens when someone recognizes her and reports her to the authorities?”

  “I’m not a child, Lisa,” Jo said. “I’ll be careful coming and going.”

  “You can still be seen,” Lisa exclaimed.

  Emilee spoke up. “We have thought this through very carefully, Lisa. And we know that it’s a risk. But there’s something else we have learned. The law making Hitler Youth mandatory for all children has actually proven to be a blessing in disguise. There are now about seven million young people enrolled in Hitler Youth, with hundreds upon hundreds of locations around the country. Those kinds of numbers have overwhelmed the system. They can’t possibly check on every potential student in the country. We know of a family here in Munich who applied for an exemption for their son because they said that they were spending the summer in England. They never got a response. Nor did they go to England. No one has come to even inquire about him.”

  Lisa relaxed a little. That was good. “Okay,” she finally said slowly, “but if she does come to their attention, then what?”

  Hans smiled. “Aunt Paula will have a relapse in her health and we’ll have to send Jo back to America to help her.”

  Jo shook her head and took Lisa’s hand. “You have made a tremendous sacrifice for me, Lisa. And I love you for that in ways that I cannot express. But I won’t go back to America and leave the family again. So if it comes to that, I’ll go to camp and I’ll survive it.”

  Lisa studied her for a long moment, then turned to her parents. “I warned you about letting her go to Monticello and learn how to ride a horse and brand a calf. Now look at her. Bossier than old Frau Keller at the Academy.” And then the tears came again and she threw her arms around her sister. “Oh, Jo! I have missed you so much. Welcome home.”

  Hans cleared his throat. “Girls, there is a lovely trail that follows the creek down past the village. We won’t have dinner until six. You two haven’t had a chance to—”

  Lisa was already pulling Jo by the hand. “Come on, Jo. Two hours is barely enough time for us to even get started.”

  6:07 p.m.—Chalet

  As Lisa and Jo came out of the trees, arm in arm and laughing together, Lisa pulled Jo to a stop. “Oh, my!” she exclaimed, her eyes going wide as she stared at Jo.

  “What?” Jo asked in alarm.

  “I just realized something.”

  “What?”

  She waved her off with a flick of her hand, her mind racing. Then she grabbed Jo’s arm and marched her back into the trees. Once they were in the deep shade, she faced Jo directly. “How long are Tante Heidi and Onkel Klaus planning to keep Hans Otto, Rikki, and Niko?”

  “Uh . . . until Friday afternoon.”

  “Okay, that’s good. So . . . um . . . do you think Mutti and Vati would be open to an outing?”

  “An outing? What kind of an outing?”

  Lisa tried to appear both casual and innocent. “Remember how we visited Salzburg on our way home from Lake Como a few years ago?”

  “Yes . . .” Jo said slowly. Then it clicked, and she shook her head vigorously. “No, Lisa.”

  Lisa tried to look surprised. “Why not? Salzburg is one of Mama’s favorite places.”

  “And the fact that Elder Benjamin Westland happens to be stationed in Salzburg right now has nothing to do with this whatsoever? No, Lisa. That’s not right. Girls aren’t supposed to chase after missionaries.”

  “Chase after? I resent that remark.”

  “I see. So you’re not thinking that if we went sightseeing in Salzburg, there could be a chance that me might accidentally bump into Elder Westland and his companion on the street?”

  “It would be very small chance.” Lisa flashed her an impish smile. “I mean, Salzburg is a very big city.”

  “Papa and Mama will see right through it.”

  “Ah, but they don’t know he’s in Salzburg again. He only told me that in his last letter, which I haven’t shared with them yet.” Then she shook a finger at Jo. “And don’t you say anything to them about it.”

  “I don’t think it’s right.”

  “Come on, Jo,” Lisa begged. “The chances of seeing him would be infinitesimally small. But just being in the same city where he is would be so . . . so. . . .” She threw up her hands. “I don’t know. It just would.”

  Jo studied her thoughtfully, then nodded. “All right. But let me be the one to suggest it.”

  Lisa stared at her, surprised by this sudden capitulation. “You’d do that for me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I got to spend two years in America while you spent two summers in hell. Isn’t that reason enough?”

  August 28, 1937, 5:55 p.m.—

  Train Station, Vienna, Austria

  Even as the two sisters were cook
ing up their little conspiracy to get Lisa to Salzburg, the target of that conspiracy was about two hundred miles east of Salzburg. Elder Benjamin M. Westland, from Monticello, Utah, and Elder Ronald B. Wilson, from Rupert, Idaho, were standing on the platform at the main railway station in Vienna, watching the massive steam engine chugging slowly toward them as it neared the end of its trip from Berlin.

  “President and Sister Welker will be exhausted,” Elder Wilson said.

  “For sure. I think it’s a twelve- or fourteen-hour trip.”

  “Do you think President will meet with us tonight, then? They’ve got a big day tomorrow with district conference.”

  Benji shrugged. “President Welker specifically said he needs to talk to us. And they leave for Munich immediately after conference. But we’ll do whatever he wants.”

  Elder Wilson had been on his mission for about eighteen months. Benji had now been out for just over two years. Wilson came from a large dairy farm in Idaho. He had eight siblings—all girls but seven, as he liked to say. He was affable, a hard worker, and well-liked by the Saints in Europe. He and Benji had become good friends as well as companions. As traveling elders, they were responsible for the southern third of the mission, which consisted of the state of Bavaria and all of Austria. When they were called, President Welker had suggested they live in Salzburg, as it was more central than either Munich or Vienna.

  A few minutes later, Benji nudged his companion, pointing down platform 17 to where the passengers were disembarking. “Told you they’d be the first ones off the train.”

  7:05 p.m.—Hotel Dining Room, Vienna

  Sister Welker wiped delicately at her mouth with her napkin, then set it down and pushed her plate back. “Delicious. I think that may be the best wienerschnitzel we have ever had.”

  “Absolutely,” President Welker chuckled. “After all, wasn’t this where it was invented?”

  Benji smiled. “Just don’t say that in Bavaria, for they say Austria stole it from them.”

  The mission president laughed and then changed the subject. “Is everything set for tomorrow?”

  “Ja. We spoke with the branch president when we arrived. Everyone is very excited that you are coming. About half of our families from Salzburg will be here. And the branch president from Graz says he expects fifteen or twenty.”

  “That is good. Sister Welker and I are delighted that we can meet with them. We hope our presence here will help move the work forward.”

  “Oh, it will,” Benji agreed.

  “What a rare privilege it has been to have two members of the First Presidency here in our mission in the last few weeks,” President Welker said.

  Elder Wilson reared back. “Two? Who besides President Grant?”

  “You didn’t hear about President J. Reuben Clark being in Berlin?”

  Both elders shook their heads. “I thought he was here last year,” Benji added.

  “He was, for some kind of banking conference, and I guess it was so successful that he was invited back again this summer. Anyway, President Heber J. Grant was here in Europe for three months, touring all eleven of the European Missions. He was with us in Frankfurt in July, and it was a wonderful spiritual feast.”

  “Yes,” Benji replied. “The Eckhardt family that I know in Munich went to Frankfurt and said the conference was amazing.”

  “It was,” President Welker agreed. “Very uplifting. Very beneficial counsel. But we were barely back in Berlin again when we received notification that President J. Reuben Clark, First Counselor in the First Presidency, was here and wanted to meet with all European mission presidents.” He sat back. “And that is why we wanted to speak privately with you two. We have an assignment for you.”

  “Ah,” Benji groaned. “You’re not going to transfer us out of Salzburg, are you? We’ve got several promising contacts there, President.”

  They exchanged glances but said nothing.

  Elder Wilson gave them a forlorn look. “We love Salzburg and the people there.”

  “Now, come on,” Sister Welker chided. “You two love wherever you are assigned.”

  “True,” Benji said a little sheepishly. “We didn’t mean to tell you what you can or can’t do.”

  “I know that, Elder Westland. So, let me begin by telling you what happened with President Clark. He came to Europe with approval from the First Presidency for some things we had recommended to President Grant while he was here. And that’s what we need to talk about.” He paused, quite sober now. “And it has to do with mission realignments.”

  Benji’s eyebrows lifted, but he held his tongue. Elder Wilson moved forward in his seat, fully attentive, but he also said nothing.

  “As President Grant toured all of the missions in July, he asked us to share with him what we considered to be our greatest challenges. We all had similar concerns, of course—retention of new converts, strengthening the branches, bringing members who have drifted away back to the fold. But the biggest one was what all of the missions here are feeling, and that is the greatly reduced number of missionaries coming from America due to the effects of the Great Depression. Most of us in Europe are at about a half or a third of what our contingents were before the Depression. For example, in 1929 our mission varied between 250 and 300 missionaries. Now we’re around 100 to 125.”

  “Really?” Benji exclaimed. “Three hundred? Wow!”

  “Yes. When President Kelly—president of the Swiss-German Mission—and I met with President Grant, we asked for more missionaries. With the Depression starting to improve in America, he promised to do what he could. We reminded him that together our missions cover double the amount of territory in the British Mission, and we have two thousand more members, and yet we have about the same number of missionaries. So . . .” President Welker said with a hint of a smile, “President Kelly and I made a proposal to President Grant, which he agreed to take back to the First Presidency for discussion.”

  “Create another mission?” Elder Wilson blurted out. Then he blushed. “Oh. Sorry.”

  “That’s all right, Elder,” he chuckled. “We’re pretty excited too. And yes, that was our proposal. And yes, President Clark brought back permission for us to recommend how that should be done.”

  “Did he give you a general idea?” Benji wondered.

  “Yes. The Missionary Department and the First Presidency are proposing three missions be created out of the two we have now. So that is what we need to work toward. We are recommending that the current Swiss-German Mission keep the Swiss portion of their mission but give up their part of Germany, which is roughly half of the country. Our German-Austrian Mission will give up Austria and become the East German Mission, serving basically the eastern half of the Fatherland. The current Swiss-German Mission will become the Swiss-Austrian Mission. Finally,” President Welker went on, “there will be a third mission created that will be called the West German Mission. As its name suggests, it will include basically the west half of the country.”

  It was quiet as the two elders wrote rapidly in their small notepads. Benji finished his notes and looked up. “Wow! That’s a lot to take in.”

  President Welker laughed. “Oh, Elder Westland. Don’t say that!”

  “Uh . . . why not?”

  “Because we’re just getting started. In the morning, before conference, I’m calling the new branch president that you recommended. He will be sustained in conference. So when you two get back to Salzburg you are to begin temporarily closing down your area.”

  Both elders went still, not really surprised. President Welker went right on. “We need you to take the 4:45 train to Munich on the ninth of September, where you will meet President Enzenberger, the branch president there. You will be staying with him.”

  Benji’s head snapped up. “Munich?”

  Sister Welker smiled knowingly. “Yes, Elder Westland. Is that a probl
em?”

  Other than the first thought that just flashed into my mind being Alisa Eckhardt, who just finished Hitler Youth and is back in Munich by now. “Uh . . . no, not at all.”

  “The next morning President Enzenberger will take you to a used car dealer, where there will be a car waiting for you.”

  Another jolt. No missionaries had cars, at least not that Benji knew of.

  President Welker smiled at their expressions. “Your assignment for the next two months will be to visit every district, every branch, and every missionary companionship in the mission. You can’t do that by train.”

  With mouths half open, they just stared at him. He went on. “Elders, as you can imagine, there needs to be a lot of planning and preparation before the missions are divided. We need to assess our current status before we decide where best to allocate the elders and sisters we currently have and make recommendations for new areas to open if we get additional ones. We can’t leave that to the new mission presidents. They’ll have enough to do once they get here.”

  “Wow. I. . . .” Benji drew in a deep breath. “President, Elder Wilson and I are ready to do whatever you ask of us.”

  “Thank you, Elders.”

  Sister Welker cleared her throat. “There is one other thing, Elder Westland.”

  He turned. “Yes?”

  She was looking at Benji with that same mysterious smile of before. “As you probably remember, the Munich Branch provides a light supper for their members after church, because some members have to travel some distance from their homes. Just so you know, you and Elder Wilson should feel free to participate with them.”

  “Uh. . . .”

  “And if the Eckhardt family happens to be there, you have our permission to eat supper with them, as long as your companion is there with you.”

  “You know the Eckhardts?” Benji gasped.

  “Oh,” Sister Welker said, laughing softly now, “the wives of mission presidents know much more than you think we do.”

  Chapter Notes

  There is not a lot of detail about the visits of Presidents Heber J. Grant and J. Reuben Clark to Germany in 1937, but it was very likely during the mission presidents’ seminar held then that discussions took place about creating a third mission in the German-speaking countries. Three missions, as described here, were created and seem to have begun functioning on January 1, 1938 (see Scharffs, Mormonism in Germany, 86–89). Obviously, such a division would take a lot of planning and preparation, but the details as given in this chapter are suppositions.