Hans covered his face with his sleeve. His own high-rise apartment block should have been visible from where he stood, but the smoke was too thick to see it, if it was still there. He stumbled toward it, swinging his leg, working his way around piles of broken masonry and massive wooden beams ripped from the houses and blazing on the ground.
The whole of Bolivarallee, his normal route home, was ablaze on both sides, the heat so intense that the tar on the surface of the road was melting. He would have to find a different way home.
It took him an hour to get back to the apartment block. Three other blocks in the Kaiser Wilhelm complex had suffered catastrophic damage and were burning, but block 2 still stood stubbornly, its head shrouded in the cloud of black smoke, many of its windows shattered.
His own windows were gone, a crater the size of a swimming pool right in front of the building. If the bomb had fallen 20 meters further north it would have wiped out the entire block and killed everyone still inside.
Dora and Inge emerged from the underground shelter and headed back through streets devastated by the bombing. They had almost made it home when they turned a corner and ran straight into her neighbor, Professor Hepple.
“Who’s this?” said the professor.
“This is Inge, my niece,” said Dora. “She’s staying with me for a few days.”
Hepple glanced at Inge, raising his eyebrows.
Dora grabbed Inge’s hand and they hurried onward.
Hans swept up the glass fragments scattered around his apartment before heading out toward the allotments. Again, his route was blocked by fallen masonry and raging fires. He made his way around the craters on the golf course, the only nearby open area.
Paradoxically, the allotments were ablaze with cherry blossom. Hans’s plot had received a direct hit. The planted area was now nothing but a huge crater. The cabin was still standing, but the bomb’s shockwave had shaken it badly. What had been an upright rectangular wooden building was now crooked and distorted, and looked like it might fall down at any moment.
The padlock on the door was hanging open, the door firmly wedged in a frame twisted and bent out of shape. If he opened it the whole front wall might collapse. The gable end of the structure lay at a crazy angle, its wooden slats loose. Hans pulled at two of them and they came away in his hands. This created a space wide enough to gain access, but a cross spar blocked his way in. He had to lower himself onto his rear, duck his head and slide in backwards.
Inside was chaos. The blast had continued through the fabric of the building, smashing the window and tossing everything around. He straightened the furniture. A low cabinet, an attractive piece in walnut that he had not seen before, had fallen over. He moved over to see if there was anything valuable inside the cabinet and discovered a pair of legs sticking out from underneath. He tried to lift it, but it was too heavy. Using his false leg as a brace, he levered it onto its side and pulled the body clear. It was Max Jungblutt, the Gauleiter’s agent. Hans checked and found a faint pulse. A quick inspection showed no obvious injury, although there were glass fragments everywhere.
He tapped the man’s face. “Max, wake up.”
He tapped again, harder this time. “Max, open your eyes!”
Jungblutt was unresponsive. Hans went to find help.
Part IV
28
February 4, 1945
Gretchen tidied the whole apartment and had only just put her husband to bed when there was a knock on the door. She opened it, and Dora stepped inside. She was not alone. “This is Inge,” she said.
A wave of panic swept through Gretchen’s body. “Why have you brought her here? If anyone sees her…”
“It’s all right, we were very careful. And I’m sorry to burden you with our problems, Gretchen, but my neighbor, Professor Hepple, saw me with Inge in the street. I can’t keep her in my attic any longer.”
“You want to leave her here?” Gretchen was wide-eyed at the thought of what Dora was asking her to do.
“I’m right here,” said Inge. “You’re talking about me like I’m a sack of potatoes.”
Gretchen bit her tongue. She wasn’t just being asked to take a teenager into her home, this was a teenager with a mind of her own.
Dora took the youngster to the sofa and sat her down. “Give us a few moments, Inge.”
“Why bring her here?” said Gretchen. “What about all your other friends, couldn’t one of them take her?”
Dora said quietly, “They are good friends, they give me money – and food sometimes – but they would all have too much to lose if they were caught.”
“And I have nothing to lose?”
“I’m sorry, Gretchen, I didn’t mean that.” She placed a hand on Gretchen’s shoulder. “You have a generous heart. You are the only one of my friends that I know I can rely on.”
Gretchen gave that some thought. The risk of discovery by the Gestapo was like a giant boulder on a hill. The compliment was like a pebble holding it in place. The smallest mistake would cause the boulder to roll right over the pebble and come barreling down the hill to crush her.
She shook her head violently. “I can’t do it, I’m sorry. Take her somewhere else.”
“I’ve told you, there is nowhere else.”
“It’s impossible, Dora. There must be somewhere else.”
“There isn’t, Gretchen. I’m asking you to keep her here for just a few days, until I can find someone else to take her.”
Inge jumped up from the sofa, her eyes blazing. “It’s obvious she doesn’t want me here. Let’s go, Dora.”
Dora put a finger to her lips. “Remember what I told you. You have to keep your voice down, and stay away from the windows.”
Gretchen looked at Inge. She was such a skinny child, innocent of any crime. She tried not to think about what the Gestapo would do with her if they found her.
“All right,” she said. “But promise me you’ll move her somewhere else quickly.”
“I promise,” said Dora.
Inge scoffed. “I’ll be leaving for Dresden soon anyway.”
Gretchen made up a bed on the sofa. Inge got under the blanket and fell asleep almost immediately.
“What was that about Dresden?” said Gretchen.
Dora sighed. “She has friends in Dresden. She dearly wants to go there, but I haven’t been able to tell her how impossible that would be.”
“Do we know if her friends are still there?”
“There’s no reason to think otherwise. They’re both Christians.”
Gretchen said, “We might be able to get her to Dresden. There’s still an open corridor south. Does she have papers?”
“Only Jewish papers.”
“How far is Dresden?”
“About two hundred kilometers. How could we get her there? There are no trains.”
Gretchen gave the problem some thought.
“Hans Klein might be able to help. You have money?”
Dora’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure we can trust him?”
“I’m sure. Let me have some cash.”
29
Gretchen called to Hans’s apartment the following morning. Fires were burning all over Berlin, the flames reflecting off the giant smoke cloud that still blanketed the entire city. The air was thick with ash, making it difficult to breathe. Firefighting teams had worked all night and continued in desperate attempts to bring the conflagration under control.
Hans told Gretchen how he’d found Max Jungblutt at the allotment.
“I’m surprised you made it that far,” she said.
“I had to go the long way around, through the golf course.”
“He was injured?”
“He had no obvious injuries, but I couldn’t get him to open his eyes. I had to stay with him for a couple of hours, but they came eventually and took him to hospital in an ambulance.”
“Perhaps he took a bang on the head,” she said.
“Maybe he did. The allotment’s been wi
ped out, anyway. There’s no way Max is going to be able to meet his own targets now.”
“Don’t look so pleased.” Gretchen suppressed a giggle.
Hans spoke with animation about some of the shocking scenes he’d witnessed on his way back to the apartment block from the U-Bahn station.
“I noticed that Oskar seemed unaffected by it all,” he said.
“It’s true, he’s lost in his own world,” she replied. “I’m not sure he knows where he is most of the time.”
“But he knows who you are?”
“Most of the time.”
Gretchen waited until the moment was right before raising the reason for her visit.
“You remember Dora, my friend, who had a guest staying with her?” she said.
“A young woman who likes to read. I remember.”
Gretchen took a deep breath. “She needs to get out of Berlin.”
Hans laughed. “We all need to get out of Berlin. What makes her so special?”
Gretchen said nothing.
He scratched his chin. “Does she have papers?”
“None that she can use.”
“I can arrange new papers for her. You’ll need to bring me what she has. Where is she now?”
“She’s safe for the moment. We would like to move her to Dresden. She has friends there.”
“We?”
“I meant Dora. Dora would like to move her to Dresden. As soon as possible.”
Hans gave a low whistle. “Dresden’s a long way. You do know the trains have stopped running?”
“Yes, I know it’s not going to be easy, but as I said, it’s urgent. I thought you might have some ideas.”
“Why Dresden? No city in Germany will be safe when the fighting stops.”
Gretchen cast her gaze through the paneless window. “I know.” She bit her lip. “But she is more afraid of the SS than the enemy.”
Hans nodded. “I know someone with a horse and dray. That’s the only form of transport that might work.” He scratched his chin some more. “I could speak with him. He’ll have to be paid, though.”
“That won’t be a problem,” said Gretchen, pulling a wad of Dora’s money from her purse.
In the afternoon, Gretchen took her scissors from her tin box. She tied a sheet around Oskar’s neck. He sat still while she trimmed the left side of his beard and shortened it, but when she moved to the right side, he pulled the sheet away and shouted at her.
“Leave me be.”
“Please sit still Oskar, while I finish trimming your beard,” she said.
He flailed about with his arms, a wild look in his eyes. “Leave me be, woman.”
She picked up the sheet and tied it around his neck again. “I’ve already done half the job,” she said, patiently. “I have to finish it.”
Again, he pulled the sheet away, baring his teeth and snarling at her like a wild animal.
She smiled at him. “We’ll feed the pigeon when I’m finished.” She replaced the sheet again. “Now please sit still. It won’t take long.”
He was quiet after that, and she finished the job. She trimmed his hair at the back as well before removing the sheet and cleaning up.
Later, when Oskar was asleep, she thought about his reaction. He was like a child in many ways, and yet there was a depth of venom there too. Her mind went back to the early years of their marriage. Life was hard for them, they had so little, and he could be short-tempered at times. But he’d have moved mountains for her then, too. Did he have any love left for her now, any affection at all, or was it all lost?
30
For three days, firestorms raged across the city, ravaging what was left of public services. The body-count mounted. Toxic gases from the firestorm had killed the occupants of several poorly ventilated shelters. The postwoman said the bombers had dropped incendiaries designed to start fires. It was like the firebombing of Hamburg all over again.
Frequent gas explosions forced the Gauleiter’s office to order the whole gas network to be switched off. Now the power station was partially destroyed the electricity supply was unreliable and the U-Bahn ceased running. The trams were nearly all gone. All the bakeries closed down; there was no more bread. A few of the main thoroughfares were still passable, but the fuel had run out, so any buses that hadn’t been burned out remained in their depots.
As soon as he thought it was safe to venture outside, Hans made his way to Pitt’s Coal Depot. Hans’s father had known Karl Pitt, the drayman. They worked together in the Siemens Company. After the financial crash of 1929, both men lost their jobs. Pitt set up a coal supply business; Hans’s father joined the Army. Swinging his leg, gritting his teeth against the pain, Hans started the 5-kilometer journey on foot, before catching a tram that emerged unexpectedly from a dust cloud and took him as far as Moabit. From there, it was only a kilometer to the coal depot on Siemensstrasse.
Two wooden doors led to a yard black with coal dust, where the smell of horse piss from the stable was almost enough to poleaxe a full-grown man.
“What can I do for you, my friend?” said Pitt.
Hans took a few moments to catch his breath before explaining that he needed use of the dray. “I have a couple of people who have to get out of Berlin. They plan to travel to Dresden.”
Pitt’s expression darkened instantly. “That’s a long way. I’m not certain my old horse will take you that far. How many people in the group?”
“Three, including you,” said Hans.
Pitt shook his head. “That’s too much weight.”
“One of them is a young slip of a girl.”
“Weighing how much?”
“Thirty kilograms, no more.” Hans was guessing.
“And the other one?”
Hans did a quick mental calculation of Dora’s weight. “She’s a small woman. Maybe fifty kilos.”
“I doubt that we’d make it all the way to Dresden, even if we can get through the guards at the perimeter.”
“We have to try,” said Hans. “I can pay whatever you want.”
Pitt hesitated. “It could take four days. My horse can’t walk very fast. You’ll have to pay for my time. Four days there and four days back.”
“I can pay,” said Hans. “How quickly can you do it?”
“I can’t do it until March at the earliest. I have deliveries to make for the Wehrmacht.”
They agreed on Sunday March 11.
Hans extended his hand and Pitt shook it.
Hans waited an age on Moabit before a tram came along that took him back as far as Westend. Crossing the golf course toward his allotment, a flash of color caught his eye. A man dressed in red pajamas was sitting in one of the sand traps.
Hans approached warily, thinking the man might be dead, but when he opened his eyes, Hans helped him to his feet.
“Where do you live?” said Hans.
He got no answer. The man looked confused, his eyes unfocused. Hans checked inside the back of his collar and read his name.
Oskar Schuster. Gretchen’s husband!
Hans led him home.
31
When Hans brought Oskar back to the apartment block, he found Gretchen at the door. She hurried to meet him, thanking Hans for bringing Oskar home.
“I went out to see if I could find something to eat. I was only gone an hour. I’ve been searching all over for him. Where did you find him?”
“He was on the golf course.”
She shook her head in amazement. “How could he walk so far so quickly?”
If she hadn’t been holding onto Oskar’s arm when Hans told her that Inge would have to wait a month before leaving Berlin, she would have fallen over.
“That’s an eternity,” she said. “The war could be over by then.”
Hans hung his head. “I’m sorry, the drayman has military commitments.”
February 9, 1945
A knock on the door sent Inge scurrying into the bedroom.
“Who is it?” said Gretchen.
“It’s Martha.”
Gretchen opened the door.
“I heard you wanted to see me,” said Martha.
“Yes, please sit.”
Martha sat on the sofa.
“I wanted to let you know that some friends of mine are leaving Berlin soon.”
Martha’s eyes opened in amazement. “How? And where to?”
“I can’t tell you that, but they’ll be travelling south. I thought you might like to go with them.”
“Who else is going?”
“I’m not sure yet, but there’ll be a small group.”
“When are they leaving?”
“Early next month.”
“What about Oskar?” said Martha.
“Oskar and I won’t be going. So, what do you think? Should I tell my friends that you’ll be joining them?”
Martha glared at her. “What makes you think I would want to leave? I need to be here when Paul returns.”
Gretchen grabbed the young woman’s hands. “You need to get away before the Russians get here. Think about it, Martha, it will be months before the prisoners are released. Just leave word for him in your apartment. You’ll be able to find him after things have returned to normal.”
Martha pulled her hands away. “Haven’t you been listening to Herr Doktor Goebbels on the radio? The new secret weapon, the V-3, will turn the tide. The army will start using it very soon. And when they do, our enemies will have no answer.”
Gretchen planted her fists on her hips and glared at her friend. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”
Martha stuck her chin out. “I’ve no reason to doubt it.”
“It’s nonsense, Martha, and you know it. We can’t put our faith in fairy tales. You need to leave Berlin before it’s too late.”
The Road to Liberation: Trials and Triumphs of WWII Page 57
