by Alex Gerlis
They all understood: if there was any problem even that was unlikely to be of much help. Edgar, Rolf and the young NKVD officer sat in the hold checking the PPSh-41 sub-machine guns they’d brought with them. The Russian patiently explained its workings.
‘At best,’ said Edgar ‘These’ll buy us some time; we may be able to get away. But with luck anyone who spots us will have bigger things to worry about than a rusty little boat like this.’ He shrugged his shoulders, not really believing his own reassurance.
Around midnight Lang called Edgar up to the wheelhouse. They were making good progress, he said. The tug had a powerful engine and was in good condition. What little moon there was was obscured by thick cloud – and the Donau Mädchen, with all its lights off, would be barely visible from either bank.
An hour later they heard some noise from above and the engine quickly cut to idling speed. Lang called them up. Alongside the Donau Mädchen was a barge with a group of hostile-looking Red Army troops on the deck. When Abelev appeared on the deck and spoke with them, their mood changed. They were held alongside the barge for half an hour while radio messages were exchanged and when the officer in charge of the barge was satisfied he allowed the tug to proceed. Maybe they should all now get some sleep, Lang suggested.
The young Russian officer quickly fell asleep but Rolf stayed awake to talk with Edgar. ‘When you were on your own with Viktor, did he tell you whether or not he thought she was alive?’
‘He doesn’t know, I promise you,’ said Edgar. ‘But if he knew she was dead then I doubt he’d have gone to all this trouble.’
‘I don’t understand why he’s helping us.’
‘He said it was because he was responsible for her arrest.’
‘You believe that? There must be another reason he allowed us to leave…’
Edgar said nothing for a while. He glanced over at Abelev, who was asleep, but Edgar switched to English, moving closer to Rolf. ‘I’ll tell you why: my turning up in Vienna was the proof he needed that we don’t have Leitner. For the Soviets, Leitner being with us would have been a disaster. He knew I’d have come to Vienna to find out where he was. I think he was so relieved that he just wanted us out of the city’
‘And no other reason?’
Edgar hesitated a moment longer than he should have done before replying. ‘What other reason could he have?’
***
When it became clear the arrival of the Americans at Mauthausen was imminent, the SS garrison fled and for a few hours the camp fell silent: most of the prisoners were too ill or exhausted to do much. Then anarchy descended.
The kapos who’d help keep the camp running retreated into their huts, ones that were marginally less spartan than the others. And that’s where they came for them: Red Army prisoners seeking revenge, bursting in and killing every one they found.
But a few had been smarter, Anna Schuster’s kapo among them. As soon as the SS left the camp, he’d swapped his kapo uniform for one of a regular prisoner. Nor did he make the mistake of returning to his hut. Instead he hung around some of the huts towards the back of the camp, doing his best to blend in. But he was better-fed than other prisoners and feared that, despite his best efforts, he’d stand out and be recognised. He moved to the perimeter, but menacing groups of Russian and Polish prisoners were hanging around there, making sure no one left. He entered a nearby hut but – despite the fact most of the prisoners in it could barely move – the atmosphere was too threatening. Then he realised where he could go, where he’d surely be safe. She’d protect him; she was bound to be grateful he’d shown her so much kindness: maybe when he left the camp she’d go with him. They’d find somewhere together in the countryside, perhaps… They could live together…
When he entered the hut it was in near darkness and he could only sense bodies around him. He edged along the side to where her bunk was, stepping on one body and over another. A narrow beam of light pierced through the wooden shutters picking out her still body on her bunk, and he saw her eyes were open and unblinking, staring at the bottom of the bunk above hers. He climbed alongside her, holding her tight. He’d remain there until they were free: she could protect him and he’d look after her.
He’d been next to her for no more than five minutes when she let out a piercing shriek, so loud his ears started ringing. Someone opened the shutters and quickly they were surrounding by a dozen or so inmates. The woman was screaming, trying to push him away. He propped himself up so she could see him more clearly: when she realised it was him, surely she’d stop. She’d be grateful he was there: he’d been so kind. But now they were holding him down and the woman climbed on top of him as someone handed her what looked like a knife. There was no question she could now see it was him. She stabbed him a dozen times before they rolled his body off the bunk and she collapsed back onto it, covered in blood, her eyes still wide-open, staring at the bottom of the bunk above hers.
She continued to die.
***
They passed Krems before daybreak on Saturday and Lang decided to press on for as long as he dared. The terrain on the north bank of the Danube was harder, the trees that led into the mountains more dense, while the land on the south bank was flatter and easier. By the time the morning sun shimmered on the surface of the mighty Danube they were just west of Spitz. Lang steered the Donau Mädchen onto a small landing on the south bank, concealed by overhanging branches, and Abelev jumped ashore and secured the tug.
‘We could press on and be in Mauthausen by nightfall,’ said Lang. ‘But that assumes a safe passage… Maybe we should wait here till nightfall?’
‘We can’t possibly wait that long,’ said Rolf impatiently.
As the two men argued, Edgar and Abelev wandered off, returning after 15 minutes. ‘As far as we can tell,’ said Edgar, pointing to the binoculars the Russian was holding, ‘there’s fighting and troop movements to the south and east, a bit less to the west. It’s hard to tell who’s fighting who, but Alexei’s sure some of the artillery is German. My sense is that the Americans are advancing towards the east. Let me have a look at your charts, Joachim.’
They spread a large map out on the deck and studied it. ‘I think we can risk the Danube as far as Melk, but no further – here,’ said Lang, pointing to a town on the south bank. ‘Look at the terrain on the south bank – it’s much flatter and if you’re right, that area ought to be under the control of either the British or the Americans.’
They set off immediately. For the next three hours the sounds of fighting were intense, though still some distance away from them. The terrain helped, both banks were heavily forested and provided a strange sense of isolation. As they passed the village of Schönbühel on the south bank, Lang steered the Donau Mädchen towards the centre of the river and excitedly called them up to the deck.
‘Over there – can you see, on the north bank? That village is called Emmersdorf, according to this chart. Here, give me those binoculars.’
He smiled as he peered through them, handing them over to Edgar. ‘Look to your left a bit – what can you see?’
Edgar fiddled with the binoculars then a grin appeared on his face. ‘Good heavens… Good heavens. Well done Joachim.’
‘What is it Edgar?’
‘The Stars and Stripes. A great big bloody Stars and Stripes!’
They raised a white flag as the Donau Mädchen crawled towards the small stone quay at Emmersdorf. There were three or four American Army trucks by the bank of the river, as well as a couple of dozen troops and at least as many rifles watching them. Edgar perched on the bow, waving a white cloth and shouting out in English. The rifles were still trained on him as he threw a rope to one of the soldiers and the tug was pulled alongside. He spotted a young officer and called him over.
‘I say, I’m a British officer,’ he announced, realising how pompous he sounded. The young American nodded and told him to raise his hands, climb down slowly from the boat and allow himself to be searched. As he stood on the
quay, he spoke to the officer.
‘My name’s Major Edgar, I’m a British Intelligence officer. I commandeered this boat and escaped from Vienna in it. I ought to tell you that on board are three Austrians who worked for the resistance in Vienna. There’s also a Russian officer who came with us in case we met the Red Army. I’m on an important Allied mission and need to get to the concentration camp at Mauthausen as quickly as possible. I understand you’ll need to verify who I am but, if you can get hold of whoever liaises with our chaps, I’m sure we can sort something out.’
To Edgar’s amazement, they did – though it took them most of the afternoon to do so. The young officer managed to get a message through to his headquarters, who promised to speak with their British liaison officer, Edgar having given them a coded message that was meant to ensure swift action in such circumstances. By late afternoon the message came back.
‘They say you’re one hell of an important guy, Major, and we’re to do what we can to help. In fact, as you guys have been operating under cover, it’ll be an honour.’
***
She moaned throughout that night and, as dawn threatened, the moans were punctuated by increasingly frequent and longer screams. This unsettled the other prisoners who were convinced the noise Anna Schuster was making threatened their chances of survival. So, just before first light, Montse and Marie took her from their hut and hurried her through the disappearing shadows to one of the infirmary blocks, which had begun to fill with prisoners again. They were turned away from two of the huts. ‘She’s even madder than the rest of us,’ a Polish doctor said. ‘Try that hut over there. Good luck.’
That hut was run by a Russian prisoner of war called Yulia and inside it was as if they’d entered the final gate of hell. Hundreds of prisoners were screaming, rocking and twisting violently. Montse and Marie took Anna deep into the hut, past rows and rows of bunks, each with two or three prisoners on them. They found a bunk at the back, the bottom section of which had one dead body on it and another one close to death. They laid the dead body on the floor and lifted Anna into its place before quickly leaving, pausing to tell Yulia her new patient was called Anna Schuster and she was to look after her.
An hour later Yulia came over to give Anna Schuster some water. To her surprise she hauled herself up on the bunk and whispered something. Yulia had to bend over to hear what she was saying, and pressed her ear against her mouth. ‘My name’s Katharina, Katharina Hoch,’ the woman said in an insistent tone. ‘If anyone asks, that’s my name.’
And with that, Katharina Hoch slumped back, her breathing now noisy and laboured, and all too familiar to Yulia. But she closed her eyes and appeared more at ease. She was entering the final stage of her life, but at least she’d die with her real name.
***
They’d wanted to leave Emmersdorf that evening but the Americans refused to let them. ‘The Nazis are beaten but they’re not finished yet,’ the officer insisted. ‘There are still plenty of their units around here and the SS ones in particular haven’t given up yet. Just our luck that this godforsaken place is about the only place in Europe where there’s still any fighting going on.’
They left Lang, the engineer and Abelev behind and at first light headed off in a US Army truck with a driver and half a dozen troops. Not far out of Emmersdorf they crossed the river, as the southern side had better roads and was under American control. The journey took nearly four hours as they paused at various points to check the way ahead was clear and had to negotiate their way through numerous checkpoints. When they reached Enns it was so crowded with US military vehicles that it took them the best part of an hour to pass through the town and cross the bridge over the Danube.
Half an hour later they arrived at Mauthausen. Milling around outside the camp were dozens of emaciated people, few doing little more than just sitting by the roadside. US Army troops were moving in and out of the camp. The truck stopped and they all got out, shocked at the sights around them. Hanging above an enormous stone arch entrance was a large banner with a slogan in Spanish painted on it.
‘Anyone know what that says?’ asked Rolf.
The corporal who’d driven the truck read out loud: ‘“Los Espanoles antifascistas saludan a la fuerzas liberadas”. It means the Spanish anti-fascists salute the liberating forces, which I guess mean us. What the hell are Spaniards doing here anyway?’
It was agreed their escort would return to Emmersdorf before dark, so Edgar and Rolf walked through the arch and into the camp. There was such chaos and confusion around them that no one bothered to stop them, other than the inmates in their threadbare striped clothes, who walked silently next to them, holding out their hands for food. They eventually found an American officer who took them to a building that seemed to be acting as an office.
‘This place was liberated over the weekend by the 11th Armoured Division of the United States Third Army, sir,’ the officer told them. ‘How can we help?’
Edgar asked Rolf to wait outside while he explained who they were and why they were there. ‘There are thousands of prisoners here, sir,’ the officer told him, ‘many of them dead. People are still dying from typhus or starvation. The Nazis killed thousands over the last few days, before we got here. The chances of finding one particular person here alive are slim, but you’re welcome to look around.’
‘Are there any records?’
‘There were some, but they aren’t recent. We think the most recent records have either been destroyed or – more likely – haven’t been kept at all. But we’ve been compiling a list of inmates who are alive. What did you say her name is again?’
‘Schuster – Anna Schuster.’
‘Give me an hour. I’ll have my guys check it out.’
Edgar and Rolf sat in the shade of a long hut while they waited for the officer to come back to them. Edgar did his best to prepare Rolf for the worse. Many thousands of inmates have died here in the past few weeks… It’s possible Anna’s still alive, but… Rolf was impatient, pressing Edgar to go back and hurry the Americans. ‘Look at these people, Edgar, they all look like they’re dying. We can’t afford to wait!’
When the officer came out to find them he shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, there’s no Anna Schuster in the lists we have… That doesn’t mean she isn’t alive… Remember, we’re still compiling names…’
‘But she’d have only been here a month,’ said Rolf. ‘Surely in that time…?’
The American shrugged his shoulders. ‘As I say, pal, these records aren’t complete yet. The best thing is for you to look around the camp and ask.’
For an hour they walked around the camp, asking every prisoner they came across whether they knew of an Anna Schuster – a woman from Vienna with dark hair. Edgar was aware Rolf was becoming agitated, short-tempered with prisoners who said they didn’t know her. One of the huts they entered was larger than the others and appeared to be deserted. The two men stood in the centre of it, aware of a presence in the room but unsure of its nature. There were small sounds, muffled breathing and tiny scuttling movements. As their eyes acclimatised to the little light that found its way into the hut through gaps in the roof they began to realise dozens of pairs of eyes were staring at them, from behind the bunks, from beneath them and pressed against the walls. Edgar held up his arms and called out in German, ‘We’re British. Please don’t worry.’
Gradually, a few children edged forward and within a minute they were surrounds by hundreds of them. Tiny eyes, all of which looked as if they belonged to old men who’d seen too much over the course of long lives, gazed up at them. Hands reached out from the ends of skeletal arms, some for food but most just for human contact. Edgar and Rolf called out Anna’s name and described her in German, but no one responded.
After the children’s hut they came to a clearing where a group of women were standing. Anna Schuster, she’s from Vienna, though her accent would be more German: arrived here sometime in April, dark hair? The women shook their heads, but one o
f them shouted out Anna’s name into a nearby hut. A dark-haired woman with black eyes and a thin face came out. ‘Anna Schuster? Yes, I know her. She was in this hut.’ She spoke German slowly and with a heavy accent. She’d barely finished speaking before Rolf grabbed her by the arm.
‘Where is she? You must tell me!’
‘She went mad: we took her over to the infirmary.’
Montse led them over to the infirmary block and eventually they found the hut. Yulia, the Russian prisoner of war, was sitting outside, smoking.
‘You remember we brought a woman over the other night?’
‘Are you serious…? I’m meant to remember that? I didn’t sleep for a week, I must have had hundreds of prisoners in there – all mad, all dead or something between the two. And you expect me to remember one prisoner? Anyway, it’s nothing to do with me now. The Americans are in charge. They don’t trust me.’
‘You must remember her,’ said Montse. ‘I brought her in with another woman. Anna Schuster… think…’
Edgar handed an unopened packet of cigarettes to Yulia, who nodded and held out her hand for another one. ‘Maybe if I think about it, I do remember you bringing over a woman – but her name wasn’t Anna Schuster. She told me her name and it wasn’t anything like that.’
‘When did she tell you her name?’
‘When she was dying: she had typhus when you brought her here. I gave her some water. She insisted on telling me her name and said I was to remember it if anyone asks.’
