by L. E. Waters
She opens it up for us to hear Pachelbel’s Canon in D. The music is so light and happy in such contrast to this dismal moment with our masks on.
Tears fill up the bottom of her goggles. “He said he demanded the artist put a lily on, since they usually made them with roses.” She winds it up again once it stops to play the tune again.
Then we get bored and pull some of the books down from the shelf Lee installed to keep supplies.
“Do you think we could sleep out here?” Elfi asks.
“I hope we never have to. Read your book, Elfi,” Kathrin says.
It must be another hour before Lee emerges from our house and scares us all half to death.
He laughs. “Didn’t you hear the all clear?”
“No, did they sound one?”
“Nearly an hour ago. It was a false alarm.”
My shoulders slump. “We nearly killed ourselves running back here. The whole town was in a panic.”
“What happened?” Kathrin peels her mask off.
“Apparently wind on a factory’s tin roof sounded like church bells.” He laughs again, holding up the cans Elfi threw at us. “The whole countryside was armed and ready to skin any German alive. I thought I’d check on the only Germans I know.”
We trudge back inside, feeling ridiculous, but I notice Kathrin tucks her sacred music box back on the shelf so that she will always have it with her for the next emergency.
Chapter 32
It seems that terrible tragedies happen on perfect days, and so it’s no surprise that on a glorious fall day with no clouds, Lee comes to tell us London has been attacked. After all these months and months of waiting and nothing coming, now it has happened. The bombing has begun.
Elfi grabs her mask, which is never far away. “Should we go into the shelter?”
“This area is safe.” Lee brings a box of supplies in with him. “You should all take the sirens seriously though from here on out.”
“You don’t have to tell Elfi that.” I laugh. “How long did it last?”
“They were still bombing when I left to check on you. It doesn’t look like they’re going to let up.” His face is drawn.
“How bad is it?” I ask.
“A source told me that I wouldn’t even recognize Cheapside anymore.”
“Cheapside?” Kathrin and I say in unison.
“I told you Cheapside was dangerous.” Elfi slips her mask back on. She’ll probably sleep with it on tonight.
“That church you liked has been leveled.” He says this with no sentimentality.
Kathrin and I share a pained glance. Something so old, filled with memories and love, gone in a single hateful moment.
“Evacuations have already begun, and this is where most of them are heading.” He starts unpacking our box. “That’s why I came out today. I might not be able to come back for a week, and I knew you’d need supplies.”
“I thought people already evacuated London,” Kathrin says.
“So many did, but then nothing happened and many wore out their welcomes, so most went back home. Now that bombs are falling, people want to send their children and wives out again, but there aren’t as many willing hosts.”
“Those poor people.” I say a silent prayer for them.
He holds up a drawing I made of the village with the bridge in the background. “Oh, and I’ve received a report that a suspicious young girl who keeps to herself was sitting on a stone wall drawing up plans of the village.”
“Plans! Are you serious?” I laugh, but I wonder who was watching me. I try to remember if I even saw anyone walk by.
“This is why I told you all to avoid town. Your neighbors are watching you more than you realize.”
“That’s just creepy.” I stare at my drawing. “I was only down the road. I can’t even go for a walk now?”
He gives me a crooked smile. “I wouldn’t stop anywhere, and let’s hold off on drawing for some time.”
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
Lee is wrong about one thing. We aren’t completely safe in the countryside. Since we live so close to the coast, German planes fly over in an attempt to bomb Bristol, and when the RAF chase them back, they try to hit any targets they can on the way out. We get used to sirens and holing up in the Anderson shelter in the middle of the night. We grab our masks, our blankets, and pillows and curl up around each other to try to fall back asleep, sometimes only to be awakened by a distant sputtering engine overhead and the terrible sound of a blast that shakes the ground beneath us. Dogs know before the sirens sound. They must hear the planes in the distance. As soon as we hear the neighbor’s dogs go wild, we know to get into the shelter. Teresia also learns to come out of her box when she hears the dogs, since she knows I’m coming to let her out. One night, a nearby bombardment moves the hutch several feet and rattles the whole shelter above our head. Elfi screams like she’s been hit. We check her immediately and she isn’t wounded, but she doesn’t stop shaking the rest of the night. In the morning, we venture out to check around us and there’s an enormous crater in our neighbor’s field.
“That was awful close,” Kathrin says.
We can’t get Elfi out of the shelter after that. She begs to leave and we call for Lee to come.
He hurries in as he pulls off his wet trench coat.
“What took so long?” Kathrin shakes his trench coat off and hangs it by the door. “Elfi’s sitting in the middle of a puddle out there. We can’t get her to come in.”
“I’m late because I was pulled over to prove why the journey was essential and that I’m going the shortest route.”
“What did you tell them?” I wonder if he has some special sort of spy pass to wave for such situations.
“What I tell everyone, that I’m a doctor.”
“What if they ask you for doctor advice?” I ask.
“They always do.” His dimple grows deep. “And I tell them it looks sounds serious and they better see their regular doctor at once.”
“What about Elfi?” Kathrin asks as the rain falls heavier.
“I’ve contacted Gustav and he said he will gladly take her in New York.” He goes back for his trench coat. “I’ll go tell her and bring her in.”
“But—” I try to think of something to stop him but can’t come up with anything.
Kathrin moves toward me. “She’ll be safer there, Annelie. She can’t handle this stress.”
I watch Lee bring her in under the umbrella of his coat. She’s covered in mud and is shivering beyond the slight chill outside.
“She’s in shock,” Lee says. “We need to get a warm bath going and have extra blankets at the ready.”
Kathrin draws the bath—the deepest bath we’ve seen in months—and I strip off Elfi’s filthy clothes. She can’t say anything through her chattering teeth. We wipe her down and wait until the shivering subsides, then we pull her out and wrap her in all of our wool blankets.
“I’m going to New York,” she tells us.
“We know. You’ll love it there,” Kathrin says as she tries to dry Elfi’s hair with a towel.
She looks at me. “I just can’t stay here anymore. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry. Lee will put you on a comfortable ship and—”
“I can’t go alone.” Her eyes widen. “They’ve got submarines in the ocean and they’ll torpedo anyone in their line of sight.”
“You’ll be on a passenger ship.”
“They don’t care.” She laughs a strange laugh. “You think Hitler is going to care about passengers? He’d shoot a ship full of babies if he could.”
Lee hears her stained voice and peeks his head in. “Don’t worry, Elfi. I will escort you to America.”
“You’d do that for Elfi?” Kathrin asks.
I look at him. “You’d be coming back, though, right?” I can’t imagine losing Elfi and Lee.
“I could use a nice luxury cruise ri
ght about now. It’s been ages since I’ve had some time off.”
I feel all the tension release from Elfi’s shoulders. She smiles.
“Good, it’s settled. We’ll leave at dawn tomorrow. Have your bag packed and look your best, since I only escort pretty ladies.” Lee slaps the doorframe and calls out, “Goodnight, girls.”
Kathrin purses her lips together. “He really is very special.”
“Why are you trying to convince me? I know that he is.”
We get Elfi into bed and pack for her.
Dawn comes quickly, even without the comforts of our blankets in the fall cold. We help Elfi get ready, and they make a dashing couple as he helps her into his car. We give Elfi tight hugs and try to get her to promise to come back as soon as the bombings are over.
“I can’t promise you that, because you two aren’t going to be here when the war’s over.”
Kathrin and I nervously laugh, but it causes a chill in me.
“We’ll be fine, Elfi. We have the shelter and we’re far away from the city.”
Elfi just shakes her head like she knows something we don’t. “If it makes it easier to say goodbye, I’ll let you think we’ll see each other again. But we won’t.” She smiles at me. “At least not in this life.”
A dark cloud has just swept over us on an already cloudy day.
“Well, if we just happen to still be here when it’s all over, you are always welcome with us.” Kathrin pats her head as she settles down in her seat.
“Wait,” she says before Lee closes the door. Elfi pulls her mask out of its case and slips it on. “You never know when they’ll fly over.”
Lee gives us a wink and gets in his car, but Kathrin leans in the open window to give him a hug.
“What’s that for?” He laughs. “I’m coming back.”
I move to give him a hug too but he waves a finger at me. He whispers, “Now don’t go making Elfi nervous.” He pulls away quickly. “I’ve arranged for a lady to bring you supplies twice a week. She doesn’t speak any German, so if you need anything, you’ll have to write it down so she can get it translated.”
Kathrin and I stand there together as Elfi waves to us all the way down the road. She says, “And then there were two.”
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
Boredom is our worst enemy. The woman Lee sends to check on us only knocks on the door and hands us our box and we hand her a list. She comes twice a week, but never the same days, so the rap on the door is always a surprise to us. Our nearest neighbor walks her dog by as she hands us our latest box. The neighbor hesitates and watches our silent exchange. She notices the strange car in our driveway and doesn’t start walking again until she sees the woman get into her car.
With the end of the growing season, Kathrin and I spend our waking moments canning or drying to get us through the winter. It’s good that Elfi left when she did, because the air raids pick up and we run into our shelter at least once a day, usually in the early hours of the morning. Not only do we listen out for bombs dropping or the sputter of incendiaries needing to be put out, but we must pay attention to dogfights in the sky and strain our ears for the sound of airplanes going down. Even though they fall far away, we say prayers for those it’s all too close to.
It’s nearly a month before we see Lee again. I hear the usual rap on the door and get our list ready when I see his perfect dimple instead of the woman’s plain face. I fight the urge to hug him. Kathrin flings the door wider and gives him the hug I held back.
“Elfi survived the voyage, then? I was sure she wouldn’t get on,” Kathrin says.
Lee brings in a box of goods with two wrapped parcels on top. “I didn’t think she was going to either, but she was fine as long as she kept her life preserver on the entire time.”
“I can imagine how good that looked with her gas mask.”
He laughs. “Let’s just say I kept her very happy inside her cabin room.” He hands us each a package.
“What’s this?” I ask, but Kathrin’s already untying hers.
“Tea!” Kathrin squeals, happier than I’ve seen her in months. She hugs the huge box of American tea to her chest.
I can smell its rich aroma before I even get it opened. “And coffee for me.”
Lee’s eyes sparkle proudly. “I couldn’t pass by all the shops without thinking of you two. I wish I could have fit more into my suitcase.”
“No. This will last us a month.” I start making some right away for us. “Sit down and tell us all about New York,” I say, even though I never liked it very much.
“No, tell us about Gustav and the girls,” Kathrin says as she puts the teakettle on.
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
All the days of the war flash by into oblivion. I only wake up from the nightmare when any news surfaces…waiting, praying, hoping, and pleading for the end of the war to come so I can get news of Georg’s release. Fear resurfaces each morning when I open the newspaper to see any sign of bad news.
There are times after great turmoil when everything that mattered to you once before loses all value: luxuries, dreams, hopes, even food doesn’t matter anymore. The only thing that matters are the people you love, and when one of them is in danger, you can’t care about anything else. Finally, the incessant raids decrease after May 1941, giving us all a reprieve.
Chapter 33
“I’m so sick of staying inside. Let’s go to the theater,” I say to Kathrin as she curls up with Pride and Prejudice for the hundredth time. “Gone with the Wind is playing.”
“Lee just came yesterday. He won’t be back until tomorrow at the earliest.”
“We don’t need Lee to go.” I pull the book away from her. “It’s a beautiful night. We can walk if we get started right now.”
She looks out at the dusk setting in. “I have wanted to see Clark Gable.”
“Come on. It’ll be an adventure.” I throw her coat to her.
As long as the purple haze of twilight lasts, we can follow the road into town safely, but once deep darkness sets in, it’s hard to find our way through obstacles without proper streetlights.
We hold hands as we stumble over curbs and sandbags placed in front of shops. Kathrin takes a hard fall while holding on to me.
“Who left this bicycle out in the middle of the street?” She pulls up her shirt to check her knee.
“Are you bleeding?” I ask.
“Yes, but what’s worse is my stockings are ripped.” I pull her up and she detangles herself from the handlebars. “I hate asking Lee to shop for hosiery.”
I slip my torch out from my purse and flash it on.
Kathrin guffaws. “Why didn’t you pull that out before I found that bicycle?”
“I need to save the batteries for walking home. I never thought people would leave their bicycles strewn about.”
“Well, turn it off, then, the cinema is right here.”
“Shhh.” I whisper now, “We can’t talk to each other at all anymore.”
“How are we going to buy the tickets?” she whispers back.
I leave her and stride up to the ticket office. I slip the exact amount for two tickets to the lady behind the glass. When she says something to me, I hold up two of my fingers and she gives me a strange look. I circle my index finger around my mouth and shake my head. She realizes that I can’t speak, takes the money, and slips two tickets to me. I wave Kathrin over to me and we find our seats quietly.
The theater is packed, and it sounds like half the audience coughs all at different times. A uniformed man goes up to the front and is greeted by loud applause. He bows and sits at the organ and plays while people are still finding their seats, until every seat is occupied. Once the screen lights up, I notice the haze of smoke clouding the air and the reason for all of the coughing. First come the informative clips that encourage us to eat more potatoes, show us how to convert old jackets into new skirts, and tell u
s how we can win the war by turning our old skillets into bullets. Then the news follows, and Kathrin and I can only pick up on very little, but the footage of a large ship exploding, with the headline, “The Bismarck is sunk,” is very clear to us. That and the cacophony of cheers bursting out around us.
Next follows a short that starts with two worn men in a small rowboat surrounded by dark water. Sad music plays and they keep looking over the side of the boat, like they’re contemplating jumping over together. I watch Kathrin out of the corner of my eye and her eyes are filled with tears. They stand up, holding hands, and leap into the angry water. Kathrin’s tears are now falling. How are movies like this supposed to help morale? I wonder, but the men come up suddenly and everyone laughs that they’re only in shallow water. The men splash at each other in surprise as their rowboat drifts away. They point toward shore and struggle back together, helping each other out of the sea at the end.
Many chuckle around us, but I see Kathrin is still crying. Thank goodness the glorious Technicolor picture begins and, with it, a break from the war—ironically enough though that the feature is about the Civil War, but it seems so far away from us now. It’s wonderful to see a representation of the time again. Tara reminds me of Moldavia in its glory, and I’m happily surprised by the realistic images of my war. A war so savage at the time, but now this war with its gas threats, airplanes, machine guns, and bombs is much more barbaric. All the ages of war, how much they can change in so little time. The progress of destruction is swift.
Just as Clark Gable is rescuing Scarlett from burning Atlanta, the film stops and a thunder of boos follows. A message comes across the screen, and these are the only words I can recognize:
“Air raid warning…leave the cinema…quietly…remain…own risk… the film continues.”
Very few move. One yells, “To hell with Hitler!” I check with Kathrin, and she won’t leave Clark for anything, I can tell. I settle back into my chair as the film continues, but a loud bang rattles me. Kathrin grabs my hand as we expect the worst to be happening. A few more horrible bangs follow and I strain my head to see that it’s only a heavy back exit door that slams as people leave. I point it out to Kathrin, who breathes a huge sigh of relief but quickly spins back to her leading man. By the end of the three-hour-and-forty-eight-minute film, half of the audience is asleep in their chairs. A few are startled awake by the sudden bright lights and one jokes, “The war must be over by the end of this one.” Kathrin stays to watch all the credits and to listen to the music. I check my watch and show Kathrin that it’s a little past midnight already. She gathers her things quickly and we venture out into the incredibly dark night.
