In the Shadow of the Storm
Page 27
Harri and Emma slowly went back to their mother. She was looking worried and now Harri noticed the armed men patrolling the courtyard. ‘What’s going on?’ he asked quietly.
‘I’m not sure,’ Mutter said, sitting down on one of the suitcases. ‘I suppose they’ll let us know soon enough. All we can do is wait.’
As the sun moved across the sky, it began to grow colder and darker. More and more trucks arrived with resettlers and soon the yard was so full of people that they could no longer sit or stand in groups, but just as one crowd.
Harri stared dejectedly at the mass of people around him. He knew barely anyone here now. They must have decided to gather up every German family in the region. This was no solitary event: it was mass deportation on a grand scale.
Feeling uneasy, he instinctively moved closer to his mother. He had assumed they would be taken to a new home, given a new house and Mutter provided with work, but now he was beginning to realise that this time things were far more complicated. There was no Vater waiting for them at their final destination, getting everything ready for their arrival, and they wouldn’t be the only new arrivals either. Not the only ones needing a place to stay and paid work.
Mutter put an arm round his shoulder, but said nothing. He could see similar thoughts running through her mind when he caught her eye.
‘Are you hungry?’ she asked eventually.
‘I am,’ Emma said, rubbing her chilly hands. Even here, this far south, they could tell that autumn was rapidly coming to an end.
‘Put your coats on,’ Mutter said earnestly before passing out some of the food they had brought. ‘It looks as if we’ll be sleeping in the yard tonight.’
Chapter 23
October 1941, Settlement Sor-El, Soviet Republic of Komi
‘Have you heard the news , Mama?’ Erich flew into the house like a whirlwind.
Anna, who was sitting drinking a cup of tea and trying to help Yvo with some complicated maths, sat up with a start. ‘What’s happened?’ she asked in alarm.
Wilhelm came in straight after their son, shutting the door behind him. When he saw Anna’s questioning look, he shrugged his shoulders in resignation.
‘The Ukraine, Mama!’ Erich said, stripping off his dirty work clothes. ‘They’re saying the Germans have conquered it all! It’s been placed under German administration.’ He disappeared into the other room and was back a moment later wearing a clean pair of trousers and his best Sunday shirt.
‘What are you doing?’ Anna asked, confused. He didn’t normally dress up at home.
‘I’m going to the club,’ he told her.
‘At this time of night?’ It was already late and they were all exhausted after the long day at work, or she and Willi were at least. Looking at her son, she couldn’t see the slightest hint of exhaustion. His cheeks were red and his eyes glinting as if he had a fever.
‘Maybe they’ll say something about it on the radio, and if not, there’s bound to be someone around to provide me with more details.’
‘Well, make sure you keep your head down,’ Anna warned him. She didn’t want him to attract anyone’s attention unnecessarily.
‘Maybe I should come with you,’ Wilhelm groaned as he stood up from the chair he had just sat down on.
‘You don’t have to get up, Papa,’ Erich said to stop him. ‘I’ll manage. Don’t worry, I know what’s at stake.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes!’ he huffed. ‘I’m just going to the club and want to spend time with my friends.’
‘Well, all right then,’ Anna smiled, trying to hide her worries, ‘but don’t be too long.’
‘I’ll be back just as soon as I know what’s going on out there.’
She nodded and watched him head out, a troubled expression on her face.
Yvo stood up and packed up her schoolbooks. ‘I’ll go and milk the cow.’
‘Thank you, darling.’
Anna got up too, wanting to set the table for dinner, but her thoughts were miles away. ‘Do you think it’s true?’ she asked her husband, turning to him quietly. ‘Is the whole of the Ukraine really under German occupation now?’
Wilhelm again shrugged his shoulders. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised. We didn’t have many resources to fight off the Wehrmacht. It was all just a question of time.’
Devastated, Anna sank her head. ‘We never should have sent Rita away. If something happens to her, I’ll never forgive myself. It’s all my fault, mine alone.’
‘No,’ Wilhelm said, putting an arm round her trembling shoulders to comfort her, ‘no, it’s not. We took all our decisions together, and we only wanted the best for her.’ He paused. ‘I think you’re worrying too much. I’m sure she’s all right.’
‘She’s living in a region under enemy rule. How can she possibly be all right?’ Anna retorted loudly, finally voicing the fears that had been going through her head for weeks, although it didn’t make her feel any better, but rather the opposite. ‘Haven’t you heard about the atrocities committed by the soldiers – about how they’re treating the population?’ It was close to a miracle that Erich hadn’t gone completely mad by now.
‘It’s just propaganda, that’s all,’ Wilhelm said in quiet disagreement, ‘and it’s not even a proper enemy occupation as far as she is concerned – it’s her own people. The enemy is elsewhere.’ The bitterness in his voice surprised her. She had never heard him talk so openly before about his feelings towards the Russian regime. She couldn’t blame him. They hadn’t had an easy ride with the Russians so far, although, of course, that didn’t mean they would likely fare any better under the Germans.
For many years, Anna had dreamed of going to Germany one day, to live among her own people, and had kept alive in her heart the memory of the Alte Heimat, the old home she herself had never seen. Deep inside, however, she knew it was just that – a dream and nothing more. ‘We will always fall between two stools,’ she suddenly realised. ‘No matter what happens, we will always be the foreigners, the ones who don’t belong – Germans or Soviets, depending on who has a say. There is no room for us in this world.’
‘It’s even worse along the Volga,’ Wilhelm said sadly.
Anna nodded. The entire German population there, around three hundred and fifty thousand people, had been forcibly sent to Siberia or farther east within just a matter of days. People she knew who still had friends and relatives by the Volga were desperately waiting for letters, news that their families were still alive.
Anna sighed. They weren’t so badly off here – better than if they had stayed in the Crimea at least. With the Germans advancing so quickly, it wouldn’t be long before the Soviet Germans living there were resettled too, to stop them from supporting the enemy.
‘I’m sure Rita’s fine,’ Wilhelm insisted again. He had obviously misinterpreted her lengthy silence.
She nodded gratefully, even if his words did nothing to cheer her up, but it was no use continuously tormenting herself with worry – whatever was going to happen, there was nothing they could do to prevent it.
October 1941, Baku, Soviet Azerbaijan
Harri’s eyes widened as he stared at the giant container ship that was to take them to the other shore of the Caspian Sea along with all the other resettlers. He knew that Kazakhstan was right on the other side, but he couldn’t imagine that they would be content simply to take them across the water. From his lessons at school he knew that Kazakhstan was about thirty times as big as the republic they were about to leave. He couldn’t even begin to imagine the endless space, the distance, the vast empty steppe.
The truth was that they had no idea what to expect – neither how far they would be taken nor what they would find there.
Slowly the crowd started to move. The mass of people disappearing into the big dark hole that led into the belly of the ship appeared to have no end.
Harri gripped the handles of his two suitcases tightly while doing his best not to lose sight of his mother or sister, who w
ere walking right in front of him among the throng of people. He doubted he would be able to find them again if they got separated.
The broad gangway swayed under people’s feet. Harri thanked providence quietly. Someone had had the foresight to mount a railing, or else they could easily have fallen into the deep, dark water below.
They reached the ship at last. Dank air engulfed them immediately and they were surrounded by blackness, alleviated by small lamps hung here and there on the walls and by the daylight coming in through the great open doorway – as soon as that was closed it was going to get exceedingly dark and gloomy. Harri, who had almost been looking forward to his first voyage, looked around uneasily. This was going to be no pleasure cruise. At least the crossing wouldn’t take too long. By this time tomorrow they should have arrived.
‘Harri, you’re lagging behind.’ Mutter had stopped and was pulling the sleeve of his shirt impatiently. ‘Come on, we need to find a good place to sit.’
He was hard-pressed not to laugh out loud. There were no good places. They were in a huge empty hold that was rapidly filling up with people. His claustrophobia was increasing and he felt as if he were being buried alive.
In the gloomy light of the lamps he could see stairs on the back wall leading upwards.
Of course! he suddenly realised. The container ship had several levels. Maybe things looked better further up. He tried to remember if he’d seen any windows or portholes from the outside, but couldn’t say for sure.
‘Move on, spread out,’ they heard the sharp voice of a soldier shouting outside.
Harri turned round. The queue of passengers waiting to embark didn’t seem to have grown any shorter. If they were all going to fit into this ship, they would have to spread out over several levels. He shivered when he realised there must be more decks lower down. No, he definitely didn’t want to end up there.
Rapidly he caught up with Mutter and Emma and pushed past them. ‘Follow me!’
‘What are you doing?’ Mutter asked, surprised, but she started to move after him anyway.
‘We’re going to find somewhere on a higher deck.’
Nimbly he wove his way through the groups of people settling down on the floor, until he reached the stairs. He had been right, there was a second stairway beside it leading down to lower decks.
Gripping a suitcase in each hand, he put a foot on the first step. Mutter and Emma were right behind him and out of the corner of his eye he could see other families following suit.
Upstairs the air was fresher and there was even a little daylight. Harri soon found the reason why. There were no portholes, just several vents along the sides of the ship, slightly open.
A handful of other groups had already settled down here. They were not the first ones to have had this idea.
Harri pointed to the side, at a wall close to one of the vents. ‘How about over there?’
‘That’s a good idea,’ Mutter nodded.
They spread out a blanket on the hard floor to make things a little warmer and more comfortable and, relieved, Harri sat down.
It felt good to be able to stretch his legs out at last. They had spent the whole night and half of the next day in the inner yard of the Central Commissariat, sitting back to back on their suitcases in order to be able to rest a little, while truck after truck carted in more and more resettlers.
Sometime during the night Harri had finally given up any hope that this would be an orderly and humane resettlement operation. The men guarding them had shown no kindness or respect for them, but had instead deliberately made them feel not wanted, enemies even. There was no compassion shown towards the women and small children among the crowd, who unlike their own family didn’t seem to have had the opportunity to pack or prepare for this journey in any way. The men simply didn’t seem to care what was happening to the people they were herding together.
‘Would you like something to eat?’ Mutter asked.
‘Please.’ Harri knew it was probably better to ration their food – the journey was surely going to be long and if events so far were anything to judge by, it didn’t look as though they were going to be well catered for, but the thought of the pork roast they had with them made it difficult to ignore his rumbling stomach.
At some stage, when Harri could barely keep his eyes open and the deck they were on was also full of people, a shudder seemed to go through the hull of the massive ship and, grumbling, the engines roared into action. The ship groaned and creaked as it slowly cast off and set out to sea.
The crossing itself passed uneventfully. To escape the monotony, Harri dozed in the semi-darkness most of the time or tried to remember stories he had read in the past. Mutter and Emma were as quiet as he was, lost in their own thoughts about all the things they had left behind and what might lie ahead.
The whimpering of small children reached his ear only every now and then – bored, hungry or scared, and nothing that could not be eased by the quiet coaxing of their parents. The resettlers all seemed to be faring well so far. They all had enough food and water for the first few days, but Harri couldn’t help wondering what would happen after that.
Night was falling by the time the container ship finally docked at the harbour. Armed men ordered the passengers to line up in single file, making certain no one was missing, crossing each name off their long lists.
It was long into the night before the last person finally left the ship, and they were all taken to the station where several trains were waiting for them. It looked as if the authorities had grabbed anything that would make do. Some of the wagons were obviously used in normal circumstances to transport animals, while cleaner ones generally ferried more expensive wares. Some didn’t even have a roof.
Harri shuddered at the prospect of spending days, or weeks even, in such a vehicle and looked at Mutter in search of help. She squeezed his hand.
‘We’ll manage,’ she said firmly.
He nodded. There was no choice.
They spent endless days stuck in the railcar, which was more often stationary than not. The man who brought them water occasionally explained that the railway tracks had to be kept clear for important deliveries such as arms or supplies for the Front.
Hunger became their constant companion. The food they had brought with them lasted seven days – a lot longer than most of the others’ rations. The wails of starving children never ceased and soon the first one died.
Harri watched in silent horror as the limp body of a three-year-old boy was taken from the arms of his weeping mother. The armed men took him away with no reaction to her howls of grief. Harri didn’t know what they did with the body. He hoped they buried him, but it was more likely that they just left him somewhere on the endless steppes.
That child wasn’t the only victim. Time and again, Harri saw people who hadn’t had the strength to survive being carried out of the trucks.
With growing concern, he studied his sister’s face as it grew thinner and more hollow by the day, and his mother’s large eyes sank deeper into their dark sockets.
He could hardly bear the fact that this suffering was unnecessary. They had enough money to care for themselves and he was sure the same went for most of the travellers. They passed through plenty of small villages or hamlets where they could have bought something to eat if it hadn’t been forbidden.
Maybe they were worried that people would try to flee, although the idea was absurd. Where could they flee to in the middle of nowhere? Besides, no one would want to leave their family behind.
Emma grew so weak she could only lie in the corner, and Harri decided he had to do something. The train was stranded again. He could see Kazakh nomads’ yurts in the distance when he was allowed to leave the railway truck for once, to relieve himself. Harri hoped he would be able to talk to one of the guards standing outside smoking or enjoying the fresh air.
Harri crawled over to his mother. ‘Can you give me a rouble?’ he whispered.
Surprised, she looked at
him. ‘Why?’
‘To get some food.’
She shook her head in fear. ‘They’ll shoot you if you walk away from the train.’
‘That’s not what I’m going to do.’ He knew he would never make it to a village by himself, but maybe he could persuade one of the guards to go for him instead.
‘You’re going to ask one of the soldiers?’ she realised slowly. He could tell by the sound of her voice that she didn’t think it was a good idea. He knew it was risky. The guards had left them alone so far, but if they realised there was money to be had, that could change in an instant.
‘What else are we supposed to do?’ he asked desperately. His eyes fell on his sister. She was in a bad way and he and Mutter wouldn’t last much longer either.
‘All right.’ She sat up as best she could and dug in the inside pocket of her coat. At last she brought out a crumpled banknote. Harri knew that most of their savings were hidden away in the suitcase. She wouldn’t want to get that out.
‘Thank you.’ He hid the rouble in his fist and weaved past the other people to the exit. Two other resettlers were standing outside, away from the guards, talking quietly to each other. They were the only two men in his carriage. There were plenty of women and children and a few youths like himself, but no men. It wasn’t really surprising. So many had been arrested, while others had fallen at the Front in the first days of the war. A disturbing number of families were being resettled without a man to support them.
He nodded at the two men and then went to stand nearer the guards who were a few steps away, smoking and laughing.
The contrast between their well-fed, happy faces and the starving people on the other side of the wooden wall of the carriage, the sheer injustice of it all, nearly made him sick.
Harri forced himself to curtail his hatred and anger. It wouldn’t help and he didn’t want to destroy any goodwill the men might show, no matter how unlikely.