The Storm That Shook the World

by Walter Soellner

  “No, no. Stay if you wish.” She paused “My brother … it’s disrespectful how he talks. I don’t have any unrealistic expectations about his beliefs, but he shouldn’t have—”

  “Of course he shouldn’t have! It was just an inappropriate attempt at humor. I think he was trying to entertain his guest.”

  “Yes, well, it wasn’t the first time.”

  They were both silent for a few moments before Markus said, “I think I know how you feel … I mean, about God … and religion.” A few moments of silence passed as Helena turned slightly toward him.

  “Back home in Bavaria, we—I mean, my mother and sister and I—go to church every Sunday … to the Mariankirche in Munich. It’s a big, beautiful church with a wonderful organ.”

  She turned more toward him. “We don’t have a big church like that, like the ones in Germany, but we do have a good choir, and an organ. I’m in the choir.” She was looking at him. “If you like, you can join us next Sunday. We go to the later Mass, the High Mass, at ten. It takes us a while to get into town.”

  “Fine then, I’ll meet you at the church. Which one is it?”

  “It’s the only Roman Catholic church in Windhoek, Saint Joseph’s. The other church is Lutheran, and there is a Dutch Reformed congregation, but they don’t have a church.”

  They walked on awhile when Markus spoke again, “I’m glad it’s to be a High Mass. I love the pageantryof the music and candles and bells and the processional. It’s all so beautiful—and the incense … I like that, too.” They were both smiling.

  “Maybe we should turn back,” she said, touching his arm.

  “Must we? This is a piece of heaven you have here, all to yourself.”

  “It’s for everyone. All one has to do is look up to the heavens.”

  Markus could not resist himself. He raised his hand to her cheek and gently turned her head to his. He leaned in a bit closer to her and looked into her eyes.

  “Lieutenant, you are too forward!” As his dropped his hand, “I am so sorry, Fräulein. I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s just such a beautiful night and such a beautiful place.

  “Just because you’ve been to China and in the army and all those places, and medals and such, don’t think you can, you can…”

  “I said I’m sorry, and I am sorry, truly.”

  They were silent again, standing there in the dark. He with a passion built up over months, she with mixed emotions, but with a warm stirring. “May I still meet you at church this Sunday?”

  “Of course, of course, you can.” She had involuntarily touched his arm. Again, stillness, a beautiful stillness, with energy in the air between them that they both felt separately.

  Finally Markus spoke, “Do you have a favorite star, somewhere up there?”

  “Why, yes, it’s at the tail end of Cassiopeia. See? Up there, near that bright one.” She was pointing. He pointed, too.

  “No, no, you’re too far over to the left … This way. See where I’m pointing? Below that fuzzy bunch of little stars, see?”

  “Which fuzzy bunch of little stars? There are dozens of fuzzy bunches of little stars!” They both broke out in laughter, and it took several minutes to recover.

  “Oh, you are such a slow learner,” she said, in a feigned exasperation. “Now, let me show you exactly where my star is. Now, point up where I am pointing. Now, sight straight up your arm and off your finger … Keep it straight! Fine.” She walked around him to his upraised arm.

  “No, no, don’t move. Now a little over that way.” She was close behind him and raised her arm to his, gripping his wrist and moving his arm a bit down and to the right.

  “Now, do you see my star?”

  “Oh, that bunch of little, fuzzy stars!”

  “Now, don’t you get started again,” she scolded him with a smile. “It’s just there!” She squeezed his arm for effect. “Do you see it now?”

  After a moment’s pause, he replied in a soft, quiet voice, “Yes, yes, I see it, and it’s beautiful … very beautiful.”

  They hung there in silence, in the dark, not moving, with only a million stars glowing down on them for light. She could smell him, his manly smell, and it stirred her. Her hand was still on the back of his wrist, and being so close to his back, she could feel his body rise and fall with each breath.

  He realized her hesitation, her silence, her hand still on his wrist. He slowly lowered his arm, turned toward her and in a husky whisper,

  “Beautiful, it is truly beautiful.”

  Her arm came down with his, and they stood there, close together, she was not looking up but staring almost through him in the dark. This time she could feel his hand slowly raising, coming between them, just brushing the front of her blouse as it touched her chin. He lowered his head slightly as he raised her chin. Their lips barely touched. Each could hear, —feel the other breathing. He moved his lips away an inch, perfectly still.

  Then he moved gently in again. She was rigid, but he could hear her breathing. His hands slid around to her back and pressed her to him. Each was swimming in emotion. He could feel her voluptuous body against him, and he was very aroused. His hand slid lower down her back and pressed her to him. This was too much for her, and she broke off from their embrace.

  “No, no, you mustn’t. I must go!”

  With that, he released her as she moved swiftly down the dark, well-worn path.

  “Gute nacht,” he said.

  St. Joseph’s Roman Catholic Church, Windhoek

  CHAPTER 4

  A Note Not of Caution

  It was a small church, but built of solid, rough-cut blocks of stone mortised together, like many of the buildings in Windhoek. There was a single bell tower, in a style that resembled medieval structures, with elements of Gothic architecture. On this morning, the sun slanted through the stained glass windows, creating what the monks used to call “divine light.” The atmosphere had a mystical, artificial illumination that made the congregation feel as if they were halfway to heaven.

  After meeting Tomas Conrad, several of his sons, Christiana, and Helena earlier, Markus sat, stood, and knelt with the group six rows from the alter. Helena left them to join the choir for the service. It was the first time Markus had seen her since the morning after the kiss, when everyone had a noisy breakfast before he and the Langes boarded the surrey for the ride back to Windhoek. He had no chance to talk privately with her then.

  All the Conrads went to communion except Wolfgang and Markus, who had not been to confession since before leaving Munich. In his adult life, he tried to make it a point to attend Mass on Sunday, but Markus did not subscribe to the church rule that it was a sin to miss.

  Now he found himself enjoying the familiar rituals of the Latin Mass: the organ music reverberating off the stone walls, the drone of many voices reciting the familiar prayers, the candles and incense and the bells.

  After Mass, the family lingered outside the church, greeting neighbors and passing the latest news and gossip.

  “We’re having lunch at the hotel where the Langes are staying. Why don’t you join us, Markus? I’d like to hear more about China and that wireless tower you’re building,” Wolfgang offered.

  “Ja, danke. Your father has already invited me.” He just finished accepting the invitation when Helena walked out of the rectory. She stepped into the bright sunlight from the dark shadows of the stone church and presented a dazzling vision. Her full-length, lavender dress flared from her tiny waist, and the lace parasol matching her dress was held just above a wide-brimmed hat. Markus could not take his eyes off her, and she noticed. Wolfgang did, too. She smiled gaily as she seemed to float up to her family, where everyone engaged in light conversation.

  “I saw you sneeze just at that part you say you don’t like singing,” Christiana laughed. “Did you do that on purpose?”

  “No, I did not!” Helena replied to her younger sister. “Frau Dietrich was wearing that awful perfume again. Next Sunday, I’m standing at
the other end of the line!” Everyone enjoyed the exchange between the two girls.

  Finally, Tomas suggested, “Let’s walk down to the hotel for lunch. Shall we?”

  It was often the custom of the Conrad family to have their midday meal at the hotel after church. The host seated them at their usual, long table, with Helena and Markus across from each other. They smiled and talked through the lively chatter and the final goodbyes as the Conrad family headed back to the ranch.

  During the luncheon, Markus excused himself for a moment, enough time to write a brief note to Helena: Meet me at Dimplemeyer’s Dry Goods Wednesday. Noon. –M

  He managed to pass the note to her. She had a chance to read it, and she replied silently with a smile.

  “The Kaiser doesn’t supply his army officers with their dry goods needs?”

  He heard her voice before he saw her among the tall stacks of an amazing assortment of farm, ranch, and household goods. She added, “Are you going to buy one of those camel saddles? They’re quite comfortable, I hear.” They both laughed before Markus could say anything.

  “Grüß Gott!” he smiled. “Any problem getting into town? I mean, alone, without your brothers and such?”

  “No, no. I’m a big girl now, and this isn’t Munich or Berlin, with its restrictions for women alone in public. Besides, I usually come into town on Wednesdays to go to confession. It’s when Father Lorraine, our French priest, is in town.” She paused, then added, “We country girls are pretty independent … in some ways.”

  “Yes, I’m sure you are. Ja, so, do you have something important to confess?” He looked at her mischievously.

  “Don’t you know, sir, it’s not polite to ask a girl her sins?” They both enjoyed the banter, back and forth, as they strolled among the aisles of iron skillets and bolts of cloth.

  “Good day, Fräulein Conrad,” a familiar voice said.

  “And to you, Frau Hofstein. How is your family?”

  “Well, very well, and yours?”

  “All are just fine, Frau Hofstein. By the way, this is Lieutenant Mathias, a friend of the family. Lieutenant Mathias, this is Frau Hofstein, the proprietress here. I see you have new merchandise in. How interesting!”

  All through this exchange, Frau Hofstein stared at Helena’s companion. Finally, a customer summoned her away.

  “Shall we walk about awhile?” Markus asked.

  “Yes, let’s do. I’ll need a few moments in the church between two and three.”

  “Of course.”

  As they stepped along the wooden planks that made up the town walkways, Helena squeezed Markus’s arm gently and asked, “Are you going to invite me to lunch? If you are, I know of a nice Dutch café that has tasty crepes.”

  “Crepes sound perfect. I’ve only had a few rolls and coffee this morning, about seven.” She took his arm, opened her parasol, and they were off to lunch.

  Blue and white porcelain plates with windmills and sailing ships hung in profusion on the walls of the little café. There were five tables with blue and white checkered tablecloths, but they chose one of the two booths, further back. Beer, bread, cheese, and cold cuts came to the table, with jam-filled crepes promised for dessert. Their conversation, animated fun for both, involved reciting their life stories to each other—with certain gaps in Markus’s recent history. The time flew by until Helena glanced at the pendant watch pinned to her dress.

  “Oh, I have just time enough to get to church, Markus. Let’s hurry!” Two dozen school children were kneeling in the front pews, watched over by several nuns, as Helena made her way down the side aisle, followed by Markus. She slid into a pew and knelt across from the confessional door. A dozen adults were also waiting their turn with the priest.

  “Are you going to have your confession heard?” she whispered. The thought had crossed Markus’s mind, but he hadn’t decided until she asked. He was surprised by Helena’s devotion to the church and had thought about it earlier. He decided he liked that about her. He liked her virtuousness, rural earthiness, and independence—and her charming elegance and raw beauty. He couldn’t look her way without stirred feelings.

  As the weeks went by, Markus was invited to the ranch twice more, taking stolen kisses in the shadows. He also managed to meet Helena several times a month on Wednesdays, usually at the Dutch café. Christmas was approaching and Markus, alone in his officers’ quarters, thought many times about Ilsa and the painful love they had shared. He knew he had strong feelings for Helena, but it was hard for him to separate his sexual desires from a more deeply felt emotion. Her body, smile, and laugh—that simmering passion just below the surface, held in check by a genuine sense of propriety, caused Markus conflicted feelings toward her.

  He also thought back to his China days with Li Ling. How perfectly lovely it had been The two of them, innocent in their love, had not realized the forces outside her father’s walls would forever separate them.

  Now here I am, he thought, just three months into my military assignment in Africa, and I find myself captivated by another woman. I must go slowly with this. I can’t let my desire to make love to her fog my judgment. What am I getting into here? I go back to Germany in nine months! Would she go? Do I want her to go? We would have to be married. Would she marry me? I think so, but who knows?

  Do I want that? I wanted that with Li Ling and with Ilsa, but do I want that now? And what would her family say? Do they know I’m meeting her? They must see there is a strong attraction between us … That’s for sure. I wonder what Tomas thinks of me. I know he likes me, but would he want me as a member of the family? Or what would he think of a man who might—would—take his daughter away to Germany … thousands of miles away? And her brothers? OK, Wolfgang and I get along fine, but the others not so much yet. They’re busy with their own interests.

  The sister, I hardly talk to … except hello and goodbye. Her mother is gone. How much does Helena fill that spot, she being the only grown woman in the house? Who knows? Every time I see her, I want her. I’d better take care of that part of it myself. I can’t be so sexed up all the time when I’m around her. I might do something stupid. That’s not what I want either.

  German East African Line

  CHAPTER 5

  Thoughts

  Christmas 1910 passed and the spring and summer of 1911 flowed by, seemingly as brief as a desert stream in a rare storm. The seasons dissolved into a blur of work, trips to the coast, inspection tours of telegraph lines and equipment, hunting safaris, and of course, visits to the ranch.

  Markus and Helena had become somewhat of an informal couple within the family and their small circle of friends. But Markus had also been invited to Professor Lange’s for dinners and went on several walks with his daughter, Diana. She was beautiful and vivacious and seemed interested in him.

  There’s something about the quality of Americans, Markus thought. They’re fascinating and much more informal in their habits. They speak out directly on every subject that comes up. These women, at least these two American women, Diana and her mother, are both bright and beautiful.

  He thought back to China and vaguely remembered some of the American missionary women. They too had some of these same outgoing qualities.

  Diana is surely fun to be with, but Helena holds a special charm. Is it that we’ve kissed, and I’ve felt her body close to mine? I know she is, or could be, a passionate lover.

  It’s something I have to think about. We’re not engaged, but I’m not a free man either.

  It’s gone further than I thought I wanted it to. I probably shouldn’t be seeing Diana so much, giving her the impression I’m available. With Helena, our relationship has become much closer, more passionate, too. I can’t keep my hands off her when we’re alone, and she doesn’t seem to mind … up to a point. Her self-imposed abstinence and virtuous discipline has seen to that!

  Markus felt tension and frustration boiling up in him as he thought of these two women.

  Lieutenant Mathias’s
commanding officer gave outstanding service reports to Markus and suggested he extend his military service an additional year. Helena asked repeatedly, “What are you going to do?”

  He managed to sidestep definitive answers, but knew he couldn’t—shouldn’t—put off an honest reply much longer.

  He really wanted to go home and see his mother and sister and Levi. In many ways, he wanted to be in Germany again, but he also knew he would miss Helena.

  Would Tomas Conrad permit his daughter to visit Germany with me without being married? Natürlich nicht. Was für ein dummer Gedanke!

  And now his commanding officer offered him an increase in rank and pay and a two-month furlough to visit his family if he would extend one more year.

  He loved military life, at least the way he was living it. He had wonderful officers’ quarters, and the officers’ club was small but nice. There were smart military men all around and lots of freedom within his duties.

  And Africa—what a grand and beautiful and exotic land! There was a spiritual quality to the vastness, the unspoiled landscapes that stretched to the horizon, as if handed down from the Garden of Eden. Helena would like that thought. He smiled to himself.

  The decision was finally made. Helena insisted on seeing Markus off at the chilly, windy port at Swakopmund. The Deutsche Ost Afrika Linie ship was scheduled to depart for the long voyage home to Germany, weighed anchor October 10, 1911. Wolfgang, Arnold, Michael, and Christiana also came dockside to wish him off.

  “Please give my greetings to your mother and sister and your friend Levi you spoke so much about. They will all be happy to see you and hear about your success here in Africa and your higher rank. I’ll miss you … especially at Midnight Mass this Christmas.” It was an awkward, emotional moment for Helena and Markus.

  Wolfgang sensed it and made a point of leaving the two alone at the bottom of the gangplank. Arnold, Michael, and Christiana were enjoying the hustle and bustle of the ships and people—so different from life at the ranch.