by Paul Grant
Eventually they retook their places at the table and Hannah started to talk.
‘Most of the families I’ve stayed with have been so kind. I know the risks they were taking for me.’
‘Is this about being a burden again, the guilt?’
She shook her head quickly. She sighed deeply before going on. ‘I stayed with a communist couple in Wedding. They took me in with no questions, allowed me to share all their food.’ She sniffed slightly. ‘Then it happened. I was barely sixteen.’
Maria felt her heart sink, not sure she wanted to hear the rest, but knowing Hannah had to get this out.
‘He came home drunk. His wife went out. He was on top of me, too strong for me to fight off. After all, I could hardly shout out for help, could I?’
Maria closed her eyes. ‘You poor child.’
‘It happened a number of times. His wife knew but she didn’t stop it or protect me. I wondered if I was taking what she would normally have to endure.’
After all Hannah had been through, Maria was incredulous at the cruelty mankind could inflict on each other.
She looked at Maria, tears streaming down her face once more. ‘Now do you understand when I say I feel better on my own? Please don’t make me go there.’
Maria was still reeling from her story. She felt deep sorrow for her predicament. Her mind was whirring, trying to find another way of helping her, to take away some of her suffering. Maria knew she didn’t have the power in her own hands to change Hannah’s life for the better, but she knew a man who probably could.
***
Ulrich Schultz felt like his life was back to normal. He’d lost his anger since the letter had arrived and he’d had the chance to put things straight with his mother. Now he was just eager for news from his father, in fact, any news about prisoners in Russia. He’d kept his word to his mum. He didn’t talk about what he’d learned. He had regained his interest in the war, but for very different reasons. His interest now was more about when the war would end, when his father would be coming home.
Ulrich and Günther had climbed a tree in the Friedrichshain Park close to the flak tower. They were sitting on a branch munching on some apples they’d had the luck to come across. They’d been amazed to find them, but now they were suffering from over-indulgence.
‘My stomach is killing me,’ Günther whined.
‘Maybe we shouldn’t have eaten so many.’
‘Yes, but they tasted so good.’
Ulrich looked up towards the guns protruding from the top of the flak tower. ‘Your dad will be busy again tonight.’
‘No doubt. They don’t seem to miss a night anymore.’
‘The Americans are in Sicily now. They’ll soon be in Italy.’
‘I know.’ Günther was slightly gloomy. ‘I have looked at the map of Russia; our forces are being pushed back.’
Ulrich remembered his promise to his mother. He didn’t want to say negative things about the outcome of the war, but Günther was his oldest friend.
‘Do you think we can win?’ Ulrich barely whispered.
Günther glanced across at him, but didn’t answer immediately.
‘To be honest, my dad said we’ve already lost the war. It’s just a matter of time.’
He was pleasantly surprised to hear his friend say that. He had seemed so enthusiastic about the war. ‘I think he’s probably right.’
‘I don’t think you’ll have to worry about Horst Stinnes for much longer either.’
In fact, Horst hadn’t bothered Ulrich since the fight close to the town hall. It seemed word had spread around the neighbourhood. Older boys Ulrich barely knew were saying hello to him these days.
‘Why do you say that?’
‘I heard dad talking to his sergeant. He said there were plans to call up some of the HJ. Sixteen years old.’
‘Never!’
Günther nodded vehemently. ‘It’s true.’
‘What do you think it will be like when the Russians get here?’ Ulrich said.
‘Maybe the Tommies and the Yankees will get here first.’
They sat there in contemplation for a while. Ulrich was starting to understand; more and more people thought the war could not be won, yet the fighting went on.
‘Whoever gets to Berlin first, we’ll just have to make sure we’re around to see it,’ Günther said, hopping down from the branch. ‘We’d better be heading back home.’
‘Yes, we should.’
Ulrich knew Helmi was coming to the apartment again. His mother was always going places these days. He did wonder what she was up to. Whatever the case, he knew better than to be late for dinner. He didn’t want to miss it, even if there was never enough to eat.
Ulrich dropped down next to Günther and they set off together, side by side. He felt good that they’d been thinking the same thing about the war.
***
Maria’s trip to Friedrichshain Park wasn’t for pleasure. Not that there was much left of the park these days. The huge flak tower loomed over her shoulder, dominating the sky line. There was a command tower close by; along with other bunkers it looked like somebody had tipped a mass of concrete over the once beautiful parkland. She’d found a place to meet the Major. It was the first time she’d called for a meeting using the emergency code they’d agreed. Maria just hoped he could do something more to help Hannah.
The Major was on her shoulder before she even knew he was there. ‘Let’s walk, Frau Schultz.’
‘Is everything okay?’
‘With me, yes.’
‘So, what can I do for you?’ The Major checked his watch.
‘It’s the girl, Hannah Hirsch.’
The Major nodded without taking his eyes off his surroundings, constantly checking the people around them, military types coming and going to the bunkers, boys playing war.
‘She doesn’t want to go to the hiding place we’ve found for her.’
‘Well, she can’t stay on the streets. It’s too dangerous, not only for her.’ He raised his eyebrows at Maria; evidently, he included her in the risk.
‘It’s not that. She’s had problems with some of the families she’s been sent to.’
‘Problems?’ The Major was quite short. ‘There’s a war on Frau Schultz. A bit of friction and a few cross words is not the end of the world.’
‘I don’t think you quite understand, Major.’
He stopped and turned to her. His grey, blue eyes almost pierced through her. ‘Understand? What is it I don’t understand, Frau Schultz? Look around you. Look at the devastation of this place, and it will only get worse. This is life and death. A few petty squabbles over the kitchen table are quite irrelevant. The girl is headstrong and a little bit flighty.’
Maria had never seen the Major like this. He was agitated and tense. He didn’t seem prepared to listen to what she had to say and she was starting to get annoyed herself.
‘Major, I think she has every right to be concerned where we place her next. We have a responsibility to keep these people safe, not put them in more danger than they are already.’
‘How can she be in more danger with another family, a Jewish one at that?’
‘Has anybody checked with her what happened when she stayed with families in the past?’
The Major looked incredulous now. ‘Checked what? We don’t have time to make a follow-up survey on wherever these poor people stay. This is not the hotel business.’
Maria wasn’t backing down. ‘She stayed with a communist couple last year by the name of Brüning.’
‘And?’
‘The husband raped her, more than once, when the wife was out. I hardly call that a petty squabble. Do you?’
The Major went to say something then stopped. He sighed. ‘Brüning, you say? The man’s a drunk. I didn’t want to use him because I thought he was unreliable, a bloody criminal, but we didn’t have much choice. But this...I wasn’t aware, Frau Schultz.’
The Major shook his head. ‘Things are
hard right now. Setbacks in Russia, and we’ve had to move already weakened fronts to support the Italians. It’s difficult to see this debacle going on.’
‘That’s as it may be, but we have to do something more to help the girl.’
‘As awful as this news is, I don’t know what more we can do for her. The war makes it so difficult.’
‘We can find her somewhere else. I’ll keep taking her provisions in the meantime. I believe she has been traumatised by her experiences.’
‘I have no doubt she has, Frau Schultz. The war has affected us all, some more than others. I fear we’re not done yet either.’
‘Can you get her out? Travel passes? Papers?’
‘Out to where?’
‘Switzerland? Sweden? I don’t know.’
The Major raised his eyebrows. ‘Switzerland? The Swiss are very particular about their neutrality and very fussy about whom they allow into their country. They’re just as likely to send Hannah right back into the lions’ den. Sweden is a possibility, but there are things coming in Denmark which will make travel very difficult.’
‘But you could arrange the documents, money? You can do that?’
‘It’s not that easy. Firstly, it takes time. There are priority cases and it’s very risky. On the whole, we’ve taken the view that the best we can do for these people is to help them sit out the war. It’s the best of a number of bad options.’
‘I am not sure she will be able to last that long, Major. She’s already suffered so much. She’s only seventeen for God’s sake. We must be able to do something for her.’
The Major took off his cap and ran his hand through his slightly greying hair. ‘All right, Frau Schultz. I will do what I can. I’ll speak with Fräulein Sommer again and we’ll do our best to get her out, but it’s going to take time. You understand that?’
‘Of course, but please do your very best.’
He smiled quickly. ‘I always do that, Frau Schultz. Now, in the meantime, you must not take any unnecessary risks. I know you care for the girl, but if you see her more than you need to you may compromise Hannah and yourself. There’s always a chance somebody is watching you.’
Maria nodded, but in truth, her thoughts were only with Hannah.
The Major turned to her and put his hands on her shoulders. ‘Take care, Maria. Watch your back.’
With that, the Major strode off with purpose over the park.
CHAPTER 18
SEPTEMBER 1943, BERLIN
The boredom and hunger were driving Hannah Hirsch to distraction. She was immensely grateful to Maria for the food she had brought her, but it wasn’t enough to assuage a healthy, young appetite. There was nothing but scraps left of the provisions Maria last delivered to her. It wouldn’t have been so bad if Hannah could spend time outside during the day; that would at least occupy her mind, removing the need to spend those long, tiresome days inside a damp cellar or drafty apartment, staring at an empty pack. She’d tried her very best to divide the rations, spreading them over the week to ensure she didn’t run out, but it was no use. She would always be short of food before Maria was due to visit. In the end, Hannah decided she couldn’t last out any longer. She had to risk leaving her hiding place during the day in search of nutrition.
Her worn and patched winter coat looked slightly out of place in the late summer sunshine. Hannah didn’t care. It just felt so good to be out in the open air. Along Friedrichstrasse, the loudspeakers on the roadside spat out the usual Goebbels venom. The Wehrmacht were stabilising the line in Russia. Everyone knew it meant retreat. Hannah knew the risks she was taking being out on the streets; she had no documents, she didn’t even have the temporary postal identity she had been forced to leave when the Gestapo had arrived at her last place of residence.
She had no ration cards, so there was no chance to eat anything with meat or fat. She had some money, so would be able to purchase a non-ration meal; a thin soup or vegetable stew would be all she could get, but she would gratefully devour whatever was on offer. She smiled to herself, thinking of what her mother would say. It was hardly kosher food, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
She had to walk, as to travel the S-Bahn would be too risky, especially without a ticket. Anyway, with the lack of dentists and soap in Berlin, it was best not to get too close to fellow man. On Friedrichstrasse, she saw a café close to the station steps. It was half full of glum-looking folk hunched over their ersatz coffee. She took a chance and pushed open the squeaking door. She noticed how nobody was reading a newspaper. Perhaps they didn’t believe what they read or they didn’t want to hear any more bad news. The place reeked of apathy.
Following her time on the street, and the apparent disinterest in her from the café’s clientele, Hannah was starting to feel more confident. At the counter, she ordered her meal and placed the necessary coins on the counter. The waitress uncaringly dropped a bowl of root vegetable stew in front of Hannah, without giving her a second glance. Hannah took a last look around the place before starting on the stew, her first food in a day and a half. It tasted rank, but she didn’t care.
Whilst her insides did the best to digest the stew, Hannah sat back to decide what to do next. The place was covered with government sponsored posters. One was of a shadow man with the words “the enemy is listening” stamped underneath. She made up her own slogan, smiling to herself, “the enemy is sitting right next to you.”
‘Well, good day to you, Fräulein.’
Hannah’s heart was already in her mouth. Standing over her was a man she recognised from before the war. He saw she was startled, because he held up his hand slightly, motioning for her to stay put. She placed the face; Samuel Goldstein, Jewish name, but boyish Aryan good looks.
Hannah looked towards the door, then around the café. Nobody had noticed her discomfort. What the hell was he doing here, out in the open, so blatant? Samuel came back from the counter with coffee for them both. He took a seat opposite, all smiles and charm. His dark hair was swept back, his eyes bright, his face full and healthy, in contrast to Hannah, in fact, in contrast to most others there.
‘You look well.’ Hannah started cautiously.
He pushed the coffee cup towards her and then pulled something from his pocket and placed it on the table. Hannah’s eyes couldn’t help being drawn to the table top. It was a small bar of chocolate. Her mouth started to water just looking at it.
He nodded at her. ‘Eat.’
Hannah quickly ripped the bar open and stuffed half of it into her mouth, then took a gulp of coffee. It was hot, burning her mouth, but even that tasted good. Hannah studied Samuel Goldstein. He wore a light jacket and a smart suit, not so old. She wondered how he was managing to survive the war so well. Clearly, he must have false papers, access to ration cards, otherwise how would he look so damned well?
They finished their coffee with few words exchanged. A relatively busy establishment in the centre of Berlin wasn’t the place for two Jews to reminisce about the past. He flicked his head towards the door. Hannah followed in interest. She wondered if he knew of others who had survived.
‘It’s good to see you, Hannah.’
‘You look so well, Samuel,’ she repeated.
‘I have papers, everything. The resistance helped me,’ he said quickly. ‘They can help you, too. Where are you staying?’
‘Various places.’
He led her into the station bustling with the life of war. Hannah started to feel uneasy. She knew it was dangerous to enter places like this. There were always police and thus always identity checks.
‘You’re right to be cautious,’ he said, sensing her slight reluctance. ‘You must be hungry. Come with me. I will get you some more food, then we can talk further.’
He was very insistent, leading her by the elbow through the crowds of soldiers with packs, heading for the thronging platforms. It wasn’t only the number of people around her that made her feel on edge. She didn’t really know Samuel Goldstein that well. He was a
couple of years older than Hannah, and he’d been popular with the girls in her sister’s grade at school. His grip on her elbow was slightly too strong, slightly too urgent. Alarm bells were starting to ring in Hannah’s mind. Just how was a Jewish man so well turned out, so well fed, and indeed, still alive in Berlin? How was he able to give away food when the local population was going hungry?
The realisation struck her somewhere near platform six, the barrier down, Gestapo men checking passes and papers, the inspector checking tickets. She had to get away. She couldn’t believe she had been so stupid. The lure of food and a friendly face had led her into the face of danger.
‘Wait!’ She stopped, a man bumping into her back, grumbling as he eventually bypassed her. It at least meant Goldstein had let go of her arm.
‘I need to use the toilet.’ She pointed over to her right.
Goldstein struggled to hide his disappointment, but managed a weak smile. ‘I’ll wait for you outside,’ he shouted above the din.
She headed in the direction of the lavatories, sure now that Goldstein was one of the Greifers or “catchers” Maria had warned her about, luring the remaining Jews out of hiding and into the arms of the Gestapo. Hannah was in a panic as she made her way across the station concourse. She took a deep breath, telling herself to remain calm. She’d been in worse fixes before, and the number of people around could only be to her advantage. She just had to keep her composure and think.
Close to the toilet, she veered suddenly to the left, positioning herself behind a cigarette kiosk. She moved carefully around the other side and peered out. When she saw Goldstein again, he was waving his arms frantically at somebody else and pointing towards the toilets. She followed his direction of sight. Two men in leather coats were bounding down the iron stairs to the right of her.
