by Robert Elmer
Well, he might have. But whoever had been there disappeared just as a car parked on the Soviet sector side came to life and raced at them, its lights on full bright. They jumped out of the way, but the old gray Mercedes bumped onto the sidewalk. Erich’s mother held her hands in front of her face as the car shrieked to a stop. A man stepped out to meet them.
“Pardon the interruption, Frau Becker.” The uniformed man stepped in front of them to block their way. Erich gasped when he saw the square-jawed outline and the black shark eyes, the twin row of buttons on his uniform jacket and the peaked military hat. No telling what rank this man was, though clearly he was some kind of officer. “We’ve been wanting to speak with you and your son for quite some time.”
Well, then you certainly made the grand entrance, didn’t you? Erich didn’t dare speak the words.
But his mother didn’t shrink back. “Who are you? And how do you know my name?” She kept a hand on her purse and the other on Erich’s arm. Katarina and her mother held back in the shadows. And the dim glow from a nearby streetlight caught the man’s toothy grin as he bowed his head slightly.
“Captain Viktor Yevchenko, at your service. And if you’ve forgotten where you are, I’d be happy to remind you.” He still blocked the way, only ten feet away from the American sector. Ten feet away from freedom.
“We know where we are,” Erich answered him.
“Then perhaps you also know that in this part of the city we will ask the questions. And for the time being, you will consider yourselves our guests.”
“A guest would get an invitation, right?” Erich blurted out. And even though his mother shushed him, he had to know. “You’re the one who called today. The phony doctor. Isn’t that true?”
A wild guess? The shark eyes twinkled for a moment, and Captain Yevchenko grinned again as he looked at Frau Becker.
“Your son is very bright. We’ll have much to discuss, the three of us. You other two — ” He snapped his fingers at Katarina and her mother, dismissing them as he would a servant. “You will go home now, please.”
“We’re not leaving our family.” Katarina’s mom planted her feet.
Which was awfully nice of her to say, just maybe not the best timing. Erich glanced over at his cousin, and for a moment he thought they shared the same idea. They could outrun him. But what about their mothers? She shook her head, and he knew she was right.
As if reading his mind, a uniformed Russian bodyguard stepped from the car. Even in the dark, Erich could see this was the kind of guy who filled out the uniform pretty well. His neck looked as wide as his head. And he made sure they could see the blunt gray rifle slung over his shoulder like a guitar, his finger on the trigger. So much for the idea of running away.
“Oh, yes, you will leave.” This time Captain Yevchenko wagged a finger at Katarina and her mother. “Immediately, please. Your friends will be back home in no time at all.”
“I demand to know what this is all about!” Erich’s mother dared to raise her voice, though the Russian hardly blinked, only pointed his square jaw at her.
“You’re quite a talented actress, Frau Becker. But let’s stop playing the innocent bystander, shall we?”
When she didn’t answer, he went on.
“Or perhaps your son should tell you what he’s been doing searching through forbidden buildings and restricted areas. Did you know about that? Surely you already know about his association with the American agent, since you seem to have frequent contact with the spy yourself.”
“The spy?” she whispered.
“Humor me just a little, Frau Becker. We’re talking about the American who drops propaganda by parachute into the Soviet sector. The one with the camera who is responsible for so much anti-Socialist propaganda. He’s using you for his own purposes, woman. Or maybe you don’t see past the cigarettes and the nylon stockings he brings you.”
The words hit Erich like a slap in the face. DeWitt. This was all about Fred DeWitt. Did the Soviets really believe the American was a spy, or were they just sore at him for making such a big deal about the gum drop, making them look bad?
“Now, please,” he went on. “It’s late, and I have been waiting far too long.” This time he grabbed Erich’s arm and pointed to where the guard stood by an open car door. “You will come with us now.”
“Let go!” Gun or no gun, Erich wasn’t going to just get into the car without a fight. He dug in his heels and squirmed, whipping his arms around and trying his best to land a good punch. Captain Yevchenko was more than ready for him, though. And his arms were longer than they had looked, plenty long enough to hold Erich off. He simply twisted the collar of Erich’s shirt until Erich fell to his knees and gasped for breath.
“You’re making this rather difficult for everyone, Erich.” Captain Yevchenko wasn’t even sweating. “Now straighten up and act like a man. You can help us.”
“Noooo!” Naturally his mother came to the rescue, but by that time the bodyguard had stepped up with his gun and jabbed it hard into Erich’s side. “Oh!” Erich doubled over with pain as tears came to his eyes. And Frau Becker would probably have grabbed the rifle if the bodyguard hadn’t hit her across the cheek with the back of his gloved hand, sending her tumbling to the ground.
“Nobody hits my mom!” Erich tried to face the man but felt his legs buckle beneath him. He didn’t think Jesus had this kind of thing in mind when he said to turn the other cheek. Or did he?
“That’s enough.” This time the command came from an American. And Erich had to say that for the first time ever, Fred DeWitt’s voice sounded wonderful. Beautiful, even. Erich curled up and hugged his side, trying not to sob or throw up, while his mother held her arm around him.
“Sergeant DeWitt!” Captain Yevchenko sounded glad to see him. “I was wondering how long it would take for you to join us. This is good. I’m sure we will have a fruitful discussion on matters of mutual interest. If you come a little closer, you might find that we can help each other.”
“Tell your thug to back away from these people.” DeWitt didn’t sound like he was in the mood for a fruitful discussion.
Captain Yevchenko sighed. “Ah, but I think you’re forgetting which side of the border you’re on. Remember that over there, you can do nothing. You can’t set one polished boot over here. In fact, I can’t even seem to hear you, and that’s quite a shame, isn’t it?”
“Then maybe you can hear this.”
Everyone froze when they heard the plain click of a gun, ready to fire, a sound that seemed to echo through the now- deserted street. Erich looked up slowly to see that DeWitt still stood planted in the American sector. But the serious military handgun he pointed at Captain Yevchenko could surely hit its target from ten feet.
“Now, let’s do this slowly,” came DeWitt’s steady voice again. “I want your friend to set his rifle down on the street, and both of you to get back into your car.”
“You have no right! We’re simply attending to state security matters.” Yevchenko’s expression had turned to stone.
“It’s a little tough to find the exact border in some places, don’t you think?” DeWitt’s aim remained steady. “I might cross over by mistake.”
“You’re not serious. Now let’s just — ”
“You don’t want to find out how serious I am.”
DeWitt’s voice told anybody listening that he wasn’t kidding. And after a couple of strained words from Captain Yevchenko, the Russian weapon clattered to the pavement. Erich didn’t want to touch the rifle, but now that he’d caught his breath he didn’t mind kicking it away, out of reach. It stuck barrel-first into a heavy steel grate of a gutter storm drain, which gave him an idea. Ignoring the burning pain in his side, he got up and grabbed the wooden stock, yanking up with all his strength. As he’d hoped, the steel grate held the business end of the rifle in place, and he had just enough leverage to bend the end of the barrel slightly. He pulled it free and tossed it back toward the car, twisted and use
less.
“I always thought it would be fun to be able to shoot around corners,” Erich told them. “Now you can try it.”
DeWitt raised his eyebrows but held his own gun steady.
“The gun is of no consequence.” A black fire still glowed in Captain Yevchenko’s eyes, and he lowered his voice so that only the two of them could hear. “But I do fear for your safety, young man. And that of your American friend.”
With that, Captain Yevchenko picked up the useless rifle and returned to the car with his bodyguard. And though each breath felt like the stab of a fire poker in his ribs, Erich knew he had to help his mother to safety. Katarina and her mother scurried away, as well.
“Don’t tell me you read a book like this once.” Erich took his cousin by the arm as they hurried to the safety of the Beckers’ apartment. DeWitt would follow them, while the Russians’ car left with a squeal of tires and cloud of smoke.
“No.” Katarina wasn’t saying much, just shaking her head. She looked almost as pale as his mother. “I haven’t ever read anything like this.”
“Are you all right, Mama?” He looked to his mother, who had collapsed in tears on the stairway halfway up to the second floor. DeWitt bounded up to help them back to their apartment. Erich pretended his side didn’t hurt as he brought a damp washrag for his mother. Her cheekbone was already turning purple where Captain Yevchenko’s thug had hit her.
“Don’t let those jerks scare you.” DeWitt had to be trying awfully hard to sound so cool and collected. “Although you probably shouldn’t go visit the Soviet side again anytime soon.”
Erich knew he’d better tell them where he’d seen the Russian pair once before, here on their own street, in the middle of the day. But as he watched DeWitt, he couldn’t bring himself to say it. Another question burned his tongue.
Since when had DeWitt the newspaperman started carrying a gun?
15
KAPITEL FÜNFZEHN
THE ANNOUNCEMENT
THREE MONTHS LATER . . .
One good thing about their little apartment: from their kitchen window (and even a little bit from the living room), Erich had no trouble following the parade of C-54’s coming in for landings at Tempelhof, which he thought was a lot more interesting than doing math homework. Especially when they’d let go with a load of candy parachutes once every couple of days for three whole months: September, October, and November. Even his mother liked to watch and remind them how much she loved chocolate, and would someone run out there and get her some?
So it didn’t matter how noisy the planes turned out to be. On the other hand, a lot of other noises came through their thin walls just as easily. Herr Meyer belching below them. Frau Braun’s yappy dog next door, who barked at shadows. (There had been a lot of shadows in November.) And now his mother in the other room, arguing with Fred DeWitt after a quiet Friday dinner.
Excuse me, bitte? Did they think Erich couldn’t hear them from the kitchen?
“I’m just saying perhaps we should work things out better before we make such a decision.” Frau Becker sounded more tired than angry. Fred DeWitt just sounded confused.
“I don’t understand. Yesterday we agreed, but now today?”
“Fred, you understand what I’m saying. It just seems like everyone is against us.”
“Name one person.”
“Your grandparents in Ohio. That’s two. Also my mother-in-law, when I checked on her last week. She smiles and says it’s all fine, but I can tell.”
“You went over there again?”
“I had no choice, Fred. No one followed me. Maybe they’ve forgotten.”
“I still don’t like it.”
“Even so, you ask who is against us. What about your commanding officer? And I didn’t even mention Heinz.”
“Oh, Heinz; come on. Since when do you have to get an okay from your older brother to get married? He’s Communist, for crying out loud.”
Erich caught his breath at the words. One, because his mother never talked about Uncle Heinz. All Erich knew was that his mother’s brother had worked in Moscow for a few years, and they hadn’t heard from him, well, until now. Definitely the black sheep of the family.
And of course the other thing that stopped his heart was the “M” word. Make that the “H” word in German. Heirat. Marriage. Had Erich really heard them right?
Erich’s mother didn’t answer right away. But when she did she sounded far away and weepy.
“I’m sorry, Fred. Everything’s happened too fast. I know we need to trust God, and we can’t worry so much about what other people are saying. But still. When your commanding officer says that he’ll do everything in his power to prevent you from marrying a German woman, doesn’t that concern you?”
“Bigots don’t concern me. All that concerns me is serving God and marrying you.”
“You’d better be careful how you talk about your commanding officer, Sergeant DeWitt.” But she giggled when she said it. By this time Erich was pretty sure they’d forgotten he was in the apartment. He wasn’t sure if he should clear his throat so they’d hear him, move closer to the wall so he could catch every word, or plug his ears and start humming to himself. Option A, B, or C.
He chose option A, except he knocked into one of the kitchen chairs on his way to the short hallway between the two rooms.
“Oh, Erich!” His mother looked up at him with wide eyes when he picked himself up and stepped into the living room. “I thought you were outside.”
“Well, I was this afternoon,” he reminded her, “but then I came in for dinner. Remember?”
Remember, Fred DeWitt came over for dinner, the same way he had been doing for the past several months? Remember the can of American pork and beans he’d brought with him? Her face flushed for a moment as Erich headed for the door.
“Maybe I’ll go see what Katarina is doing,” he mumbled.
“No, wait, Erich.” DeWitt had been pacing by the threadbare sofa. “Your mother and I have something we need to tell you.”
Erich didn’t like the way that sounded, not at all. Your mother and I. He gritted his teeth and braced himself against the wall, the way an old guy might if he were expecting a heart attack. This would be worse.
“I already heard.” Erich looked at the floor. Why did it come as such a shock? Maybe Fred DeWitt wasn’t such a bad guy, after all. For an American, that is. Ever since the standoff with the Russians, Erich had learned to see some of the man’s better side. DeWitt seemed to care about them. He’d been to church with them, said he loved Jesus, and Erich didn’t have any real reason to doubt the man’s word, other than the fact that he was an American. At least DeWitt always acted like a gentleman around Erich’s mother, which was more than he could say for some of the other soldiers he’d met.
And his mother seemed to like him. A lot. This is what people did who really liked each other. Erich couldn’t get himself to use the word love, though, not for anything. Just couldn’t, because he still guarded a part of his heart somewhere, still kept the door closed and locked. But this was his mother’s heart they were talking about. His didn’t matter.
“You didn’t hear the whole story, though, Erich.”
“What’s to know?” He pinched his lips together so he could spit out the words a little easier. “You want to get married. You should get . . . married.”
His mom glanced at DeWitt before turning back to him with a “please listen” in her eyes. All right, then. For her.
“I’m resigning the service,” DeWitt told Erich. “I’m not going to re-enlist.”
“Oh.” That wasn’t quite what Erich had expected to hear, but all right. “So what are you going to do?”
“Not just him, Erich.” Erich’s mother tilted her head to help get her point across. “Us. It’s what we’re going to do from now on. And we want you to be a part of that decision.”
“Wha-what kind of decision?” Erich felt his heart race as he began to understand. As if he were in a tun
nel and he saw the train coming straight at him. Because if Fred DeWitt wasn’t going to be in the Air Force anymore, he would go home to Clevelandohio. And not just him —
“We can get married here in the missionskirche,” his mother went on. The Lutheran Mission Church. Of course not the Reconciliation Church, where his parents had been married, where Erich hadn’t been since last summer.
“And then what?” He turned away so they wouldn’t see his tears, which welled up out of nowhere. “Are you going to go to the United States? Is that what you’re saying? Leave Berlin?”
“Would that really be so bad, Erich?” his mother’s voice pleaded now. “You know this hasn’t been an easy time, or an easy place to live. Not during the war and not since.”
“But things have been getting better, haven’t they? And Oma always says this is home, no matter what.”
Erich crossed his arms, remembering how stubborn his grandmother could be. Stubborn about living. And stubborn about dying.
Well, he could be just as stubborn.
“Did you hear what I’m trying to tell you?” His mother’s voice faded back to the present. “I . . . that is, we want you to be as excited about this decision as we are.”
Erich swallowed hard and nodded. Next they would tell him how much he would like Clevelandohio. Well, maybe so and maybe not. But in his heart he knew this was not a battle he would win, wasn’t even sure it was a battle he wanted to fight anymore. A few months ago, maybe . . . probably. Yes. But not now. And when he looked back at his mother’s hopeful, tear-brimmed eyes, he knew he would not hurt her by digging in his heels.
“You understand what your mother is saying, don’t you, Erich?” DeWitt looked him straight in the eyes, expecting an answer that Erich didn’t have words for yet.
“I still have a lot of things to figure out.”
What else could he say? His mother started to shake her head, warning DeWitt not to push anymore.
“I understand.” The man rested his hand on Erich’s shoulder. Big mistake. Erich shook free and headed for the door before he said something dumb, something he would be sorry for later.
