The morning edition of the newspapers came on the early train from Munich. They were delivered by ten, along with the morning mail, to Kalvarianhof by the postman on his bicycle. He also brought out the afternoon addition, along with the afternoon mail, at about four. Otto and the rest of the household were up and waiting when they heard the postman’s bell ring. Katherina was the first to the door and stepped out as the postman’s bicycle slid to a stop. Everyone was out and gathered around as the big, black leather bag was opened and letters were shuffled through and the two newspapers handed over.
“Morning Herr Levi, ladies. Everyone’s been out waiting for the news this morning. It’s bad news; that’s for sure. Well, I’m off.” With that, he peddled in an arc and headed down the dirt road toward town.
“What does it say? What’s the news?” someone asked. Anji and Frau Mathias stayed another night as the discussion of the previous evening had grown late. Both mothers were concerned about their respective sons.
Frau Mathias offered, “I’m just grateful our two men are far away in Africa and not involved in all this talk of war in Europe.”
Otto didn’t say anything but caught the eye of Katherina. They exchanged a knowing look. Anji and Ilsa picked up on the eye contact too. Anji was about to speak, when Katherina, with the subtlest shake of her head, stopped her.
Everyone returned to the house and congregated around the table in the kitchen alcove to read the papers.
A while later, Otto said, “I’m ready for a walk in the woods. Who’s going to join me?” The three young women immediately agreed to go.
“Do you want to go for a walk in the woods, Mama?” Anji asked.
Frau Mathias looked over to Freidl and asked, “Do you want to go?”
Freidl wrinkled her noise and shook her head. “No, but you go with the girls. I’m happy right here.”
“I’ll stay with Freidl. We’ll go another time. And pick some flowers to take home, Anji, my dear. It will be nice to have some fresh wild flowers on the table.”
They were out the door in a moment and across the meadow, following the cow path into the woods. Anji was waiting for someone to say something. It was as if no one really wanted to speak, to start a conversation about something that was fraught with fear and danger and uncertainty. Finally, she could wait no longer and ventured to ask a weighty question: “Why didn’t you want me to speak up back there, Kathi?”
The women walked on either side of Otto. He spoke up, “Katherina didn’t want any of us to challenge your mother’s idea, Anji. She believes that the men are safe somehow, isolated from anything that happens in Europe. Why upset her unnecessarily?”
“You mean Markus and Levi could be involved if something happens here?” Ilsa asked.
“If there is a war and it involves Germany, then, yes, they probably will be involved … somehow,” Otto said. “Remember, they’re both in the army. And war is about more than winning. It’s about land and grabbing more land. The colonies, our colonies, are vastly rich.”
“If ever there was a month that should have been relived and altered, July, 1914, was it,” Otto mumbled quietly as he sunk into the overstuffed sofa in the music room upstairs at Kalvarianhof.
“What was that, dear?” Freidl asked, not looking up from her darning.
“Just reading page after page of terrible news.”
“Are you going to fill me in? You know I never seem to have my glasses when I want to read the newspaper,” she remarked, then paused. “Although I’m not sure I want to read of this dreadful war that just started.” She bit off the end of the thread. “There, that button should stay on for a while. I don’t understand how you can pop your buttons all the time.” She dug into her darning basket and pulled out a sock.
“Well, at least you seem to catch most of them.” She stopped and looked over to her husband. He looked back.
“All right, I’ll fill you in,” he said. “They published a chronology of the last six—no, eight weeks. Let’s see. It goes from the Archduke’s death on June 28, through all of July, till today.” He stopped a moment to focus.
“Ach! The Japanese just declared war on Germany today!”
“What?” she exclaimed.
“It’s right here, ‘23 August, Tokyo, Japan Declares War on Germany.’ They want Tsingtao and the whole of our Chinese colony! Most of this you’ve heard me read to you earlier, so I’ll just skim through it.” He stopped to clear his throat and read the summary of events to his wife:
Austria prepares to invade Serbia; Serbia rejects Austrian demands; Russia declares it will protect Serbia; Austrian Empire declares war on Serbia; Russia mobilizes one million two hundred thousand troops; Belgium King Albert I mobilizes army; Germany declares war on Russia; Russia invades Germany; Germany invades France, Luxembourg, Switzerland; Germany declares war on France; German ally Italy declares neutrality; Germany invades Belgium; England declares war on Germany; United States declares neutrality and offers mediation; Austria declares war on Russia; Serbia declares war on Germany; France invades Alsace; France and England declare war on Austria-Hungary; British Expeditionary Force lands in France; Germans capture Brussels.
He paused to catch his breath. “Do you want me to go on?”
“No, no, for heaven’s sake. I’ve heard enough of declaring this and declaring that. Isn’t there some good news in that paper you read from front to back?”
“Ja, well, no, but I must tell you one other news item … because you’ll find out soon enough yourself. France and England invaded our colony in Togo.”
There was silence between them for a few moments. She sat up and put her darning down. Finally she asked, “What does it mean, Otto?”
“It means, my dear, that the Congo Pact has been violated. It has not held. It also means that this European war is spreading to Africa, just as it has spread to China.”
Another long pause. “Levi!” she cried.
“Yes?”
Freidl got up from her chair and came across the room and sat close to Otto on the sofa. He put his arm around her as she wept silently.
Kalvarianhof, Summer, 1914
CHAPTER 22
Dashed Hope and Life in the Undercroft
Of course, Anji, Ilsa, and Katherina had heard of the British and French invasion of the German Colony of Togo in Africa and understood its implications for Markus in German South West Africa and Levi in German East Africa. The three women were, of course, deeply concerned about their men. They were, therefore, elated by the latest news.
The women were shopping, having a late lunch in Munich at Dolmaiers, near the Marienplatz, when a newsboy passed selling the afternoon edition.
“Here, boy, I’ll take one,” Katherina said, digging for the five pfennig in her change purse. She studiously scanned the lead articles while the others chatted. Kathi sat up with a start, griping the newspaper tightly. “Oh, listen! This is wonderful news!”
She read aloud: “September 17, 1914, Berlin: ‘Germany Asks United States to Elicit Terms for Peace’! It is rumored the Kaiser has ordered the Foreign Office to approach President Wilson to elicit terms for peace from England, France, and Russia.”
Anji’s and Ilsa’s eyes widened, with both talking at once. “This is wonderful news! The war will be over soon! Levi and Markus can come home. Will the American President do that, mediate a peace agreement? Will the British and the Tsar and the French go along with it? What about the Belgians?” They peppered Katherina with questions, with excitement in their voices.
“We must ask Papa!” Ilsa exclaimed.
For the next several weeks, everyone in the Levi and Mathias households eagerly awaited the morning newspaper for announcements of a negotiation agreement. When nothing appeared in the morning paper, the same anticipation applied to the afternoon paper.
“Why doesn’t the Kaiser say something … or President Wilson? Surely everyone wants this war to end,” Ilsa said in exasperation, with anxiety in her voice. “Why don�
�t we hear something?”
When the three women got a chance to ask Otto Levi earlier, he answered, “These negotiations usually take a long time … a week, maybe months. Wilson knows that these European wars usually last a few months, at best. He may be pressing Britain, Russia, and France, but he may also figure the war will end of its own accord. Or, perhaps, one or more of these nations aren’t interested in ending it without concessions that the Kaiser will not agree to. It’s complicated, and it’s all speculation at this point.”
Life went on at Kalvarianhof and with the Mathias family in Munich. Anji and her mother looked down onto the park, from behind the lace curtains of their spacious, second-floor apartment as young men, raw recruits, drilled awkwardly.
“They’re so enthusiastic about joining the army. Don’t they realize they could get killed? Mama, look at how excited they are. They seem to love the idea of war. If Markus was here, he could tell them what it’s really like in battle … those stories he told about China. It’s a good thing we didn’t know, ja, Mama … I mean, about China.”
Frau Mathias moved closer to her daughter and put her arm around her waist as they both watched and listened to the drums and the shouted commands.
“I’m so worried about dear Markus and his wife,” Frau Mathias began. “What’s going to happen to them way out there in Africa? I wish he would have brought her home.”
“But Mama, Helena and Markus moved to the family ranch, and it’s far out in the country. Remember his telegram? There certainly won’t be any danger way out there even … if there is any fighting at all around Windhoek. Let’s hope that before those boys in the park are trained,” she nodded toward the window, “the war will be over.”
The Levi family continued doing their daily tasks while hoping for a swift end to the conflict. Frau Levi and Ilsa were in the vast, lower level of Kalvarianhof, the undercroft, or basement, of the old estate. It was a musty, dark, cavernous space with massive stone supports for the building above. After three hundred years, old furniture and a few trunks with remnants of past lives were all that remained of the original monk’s forest cloister.
It was early October and the two women, along with Freidl’s cook, busied themselves with the seasonal work of putting up an array of homegrown provisions, meant to be consumed during the long, winter months. Willie was helping, too, by bringing baskets of onions, potatoes, carrots, apples, beetroots, and cabbages down the stairs from the kitchen garden and orchard.
The women, long trained in how to store various fruits and vegetables for maximum preservation, were sorting the foodstuffs. Onions were bunched and hung from hooks to be kept cool and dry; potatoes were put in dry bins and covered to prevent frost; two varieties of apples were placed in layered straw on deep, wooden trays; no two should ever touch. Oranges and lemons from Italy, bought cheap at the height of the season, could be preserved for surprisingly long periods when the women kept them dry and away from circulating air. “Look at all the leftovers from bygone years,” Freidl commented with a nostalgic air. “See, on these shelves over here, soap! We used to make our own soap. I remember my mama saying, ‘Don’t use it till it’s as hard as a brick!’”
A smile was on her face. “Oh, and here are candles; look, dozens of them. These are really old. When I was a young girl, we were always using them … till we got gas lighting, and then later, Otto put in electric wires.” She stopped and stood there a moment, lost in her own thoughts. “How times have changed,” she said as she returned to sorting.
CHAPTER 23
Meanwhile in German South West Africa: September, 1914
Half a world away, in the German colony of South West Africa, Captain Markus Mathias was momentarily startled to hear gun fire. He recognized the rapid, sporadic bam, bam, bam of “fire-at-will” shooting. It instantly reminded him of the battles he fought during the Boxer Rebellion in China fourteen years earlier. He reined in his mount and used hand signals to bring his small unit to a halt.
“Dismount!” He had come in recent days to the southernmost reaches of the German colony on one of his periodic inspection tours of the telegraph system that connected the vast colonial land. These communication links were even more vital now that the European war had spread to Africa.
Since war had been declared a month ago, Captain Mathias was assigned a camel-mounted, armed escort of six Schutztruppen for his inspection tours. These black troops were originally trained for policing the colony, but now they assumed more wide-ranging military duties under the command of white officers. Markus adapted quickly to camel riding, the only sure means of rapid travel in the vast Namibian and Kalahari Deserts and the arid waste lands that constituted a significant portion of the colony.
The war in Africa became a reality for Markus on this day. They had just crested a high, rock-strewn, scrub-covered hill and could clearly see the action below.
“Keep the camels below the ridge line,” As he stepped off his mount, he slid his rifle out of its saddle-mounted holster, as did his six escorts. Two of the black troops tended the camels while Markus led the others back up to the ridge line.
As he surveyed the landscape below with his binoculars, he spoke almost to himself: “It’s Commander Franke’s forces engaging the enemy! The South Africans have crossed the Orange River into our territory! Have a look, Corporal.”
Markus handed the binoculars to Corporal Ubangi, his highest ranking Schutztruppen. He pointed toward the edge of the fierce fighting. “See the flag?”
Ubangi hesitated a moment and replied, “Yes, Captain, but it appears the South Africans are tremendously outnumbered.” He handed the glasses back. Markus stared intensely through the magnifying lens.
“There is no way the—” Markus stopped short. “Look!” he pointed. “Part of the enemy forces, those horse-mounted troops! How many? Count them, Corporal!”
There was a tense pause.
“I count about twenty riders, but there’s so much smoke and dust down there, it’s hard to tell, sir.” He handed the binoculars back to Markus.
“They’re disengaging from the battle and heading toward that gap in the hills off to our right! We can cut them off if we hurry.”
Markus was already up and heading for the camels when Ubangi spoke up: “We’re only six, Captain.”
“Yes, but they don’t know that! Mount up!”
The gap in the hills was narrow, with space for maybe three horses abreast.
Markus arrived in time to quickly survey the pass, hide the camels, send four of his men to the far slope of the narrow canyon, and position himself and two others opposite.
“On my signal, my shot, each of you choose a target and fire two shots. Then stop firing. We on this side will bring down the lead horses. Collectively, we should drop at least the first several riders. Then let’s see what happens. If we scare them enough, they may surrender. If not, we continue the fight. We have the advantage of surprise, and look, the sun will be in their eyes.”
It wasn’t long before the Germans heard galloping hoof beats thundering toward them. The path through the hills was not straight, so Markus and his men could not see the oncoming enemy. The sound of the horses on the hard pack, with rocks and stones being kicked up, reverberated in the narrow canyon.
In a blur of sweating horses and khaki uniforms, the retreating soldiers rounded the curved path into a hail of rifle fire. Pandemonium! The front two horses, shot out from under their riders, pitched forward, only to be trampled or rolled on by several additional horses that tripped on the downed animals and men. An additional half dozen riders, horses rearing, slid out of their saddles.
Blood from the two lead soldiers, hit by the fusillade of fire, sprayed back into the faces of the following troops. Shouts and screams of fear and of the wounded mingled with the neighing of crippled and dying horses; it created a sense of panic. There was little room for the South African soldiers to turn their mounts around, becoming perfect targets for the Germans.
Fo
rtunately, for this unfortunate enemy, the German native troops were highly disciplined and obeyed Captain Mathias’s exact orders. Only one soldier fired three shots, not the two Markus had commanded.
As soon as his troops stopped firing and before their adversaries had a chance to return fire, Markus shouted in English, “Cease firing! Cease firing! Surrender now or die; surrender now or die!”
In the loudest voice he could command, he again shouted a cease fire and followed that with, “Throw down your weapons, now!” Among the moans and groans of man and beast, the clatter of rifles hitting the rock-strewn pathway could be heard.
Again in English,
“Dismount and hands up. Do it now, or die!” The shaken soldiers, having moments earlier retreated from a losing battle by the Orange River and now ambushed in a narrow canyon with a half dozen of their companions wounded or dead, put their hands in the air.
“Soldiers, line up away from your mounts, hands in the air. Corporal, have your men collect the weapons and horses and guard the prisoners.” Markus walked down near the line of beaten men, still carrying his rifle.
“Who is your commanding officer here?” he asked.
A British sergeant spoke up: “He’s dead by the looks of it.” He pointed to a limp form half-buried under a dead horse. “So is the second, you got him right in the chest … a good man he was.”
The number of able-bodied prisoners numbered eleven. There were six wounded and five dead.
“Soldiers,” Markus began again, “you will be properly cared for as our prisoners; however, if you try to escape, you will be shot. I need you to care for your wounded.” Several of the South Africans turned, hesitated a moment, then rushed to the aid of their fallen comrades, assisting them as best they could.
The Storm That Shook the World Page 11
