Any Survivors (2008)

by Freud, Martin

  I was right. Christine was in the courtyard in a fetching white apron, with a bonnet covering her blonde curls. It was still early and a chilly morning at that. Not a single sailor had felt the urge to visit the shower rooms yet. This meant she could focus all her energy on spying on my window. Luckily I had the Griesemann squint down to perfection, enabling me to show only my face in profile, at the same time keeping a watch on her and her surveillance tactics.

  Of course, she was immediately aware of my presence and began to display the full catalogue of her charms. As if entranced by the fresh morning air, she spread her arms towards the heavens above and burst out a cheer of exultation. I was not sure who this was meant to impress: the two hungry seagulls encircling the courtyard or the white tailcoat shirt hanging on the line, billowing in the morning wind between two chimneys? Her apron straps slipped a little and her top tightened around her upper body. Then she bent down to pull up her stockings, silk and of the finest quality, surely by now unavailable to normal girls. They must have come via the Gestapo arsenal. Bare legs on someone with skin like Christine's would have been beguiling enough, but without stockings there would have been no reason to show her legs in such a way. I had to stand back from my vantage point because all the windows were filling with spectators. The heads of tousle-haired sailors appeared everywhere. They were only just awake but in good spirits, hardly believing their eyes. My disguise was only for Christine's benefit and not meant to be made public. As I was expecting visitors shortly, I had to quickly remove the telltale signs.

  ***

  Sailors on leave do not tend to play charades or other games where you need to guess what the other is thinking. That is something I learned over the last few days. However, should there have been such a game, such as ‘Guess what I am thinking about now’, then it would not be difficult to guess what the obvious thing on everyone's mind was: the new fräulein who worked in the baths and her fine bosom. Nobody talked of anything else. Even those mates I only knew vaguely were coming to see me, saying: ‘Hey you, she's been asking after you’ or ‘Listen, Griesemann, the pretty new girl is wondering why you don't come down to the shower rooms, you know the captain has allowed it!’ The entire torpedo crew was being used to achieve her goals.

  The Baron was particularly fiery and sang her praise: ‘Oh pray, remove this fair bosom – I will not be willing to go out and die a hero's death if she remains here to tempt us. Gotthold, you’re an idiot. I hear you sit there and crack coconuts while the fairest woman in the world is crying her eyes out for you. Should I put a word in with the captain? I know he thinks highly of me. It seems to me unjust to imprison someone while the Iron Cross is still warm on his breast. Gotthold, you are missing the opportunity of your lifetime!’

  ‘Thank you, Oswald!’ I responded haughtily. ‘But I’ll not beg for mercy and won't send others out to defend my cause. This bosom you are all raving about, and the fair lady attached to it, does nothing for me. You can stop trying to whet my appetite. I have seen her from behind and she possesses the broad hips and gait of a common working-class broad. I no longer have a taste for such womenfolk. With my distinction I now belong to the elite of the nation and I deserve better. If you know of a captain's or privy councillor's daughter, then you can count on my interest, insofar as the lady has sufficient beauty and intelligence. Stop looking at me like that. I'm serious. My newly discovered sense of class forbids any such dalliances as you propose.’

  My lack of interest and dismissive manner was, of course, feigned. In reality I was quite flattered to be pursued by such a proud beauty, even if her interest was purely professional and her soul not in it. With all the visitors and unsolicited advice I was receiving, I was still feeling a little lonely and isolated. I can honestly say my exclamation of pleasure was unfeigned when at last my old friend the Student entered the room in the evening, limping of course. We threw everyone out of the room. He sat on my bed and stretched out his injured leg. As both of us wanted to tell our side of the story first, we had to toss a coin. Because neither of us had any money on us, we had to find an alternative. The Student tore a button off his trousers, from where the lack of a button would not cause any problems. He started to philosophise: ‘How slowly are we gaining a new principle of power – or how long do trouser buttons last?’

  Mendl & Rabinowitz was imprinted around the edge of one side only, surely not an Aryan company, and these were of military stock! He tossed, he won, pocketed the button and began his tale:

  ‘Stretcher number two won the battle. They pushed me into an ambulance, which was waiting for me with its engine running. From the harbour we sped off in the pitch-black night towards the hospital as if I was fighting for my life. The driver, a member of the voluntary Automobile Corps, must have been hoping for some kind of special mention in the news by being the first person to bring a wounded person to the hospital. They had telephoned ahead, which was fortuitous, as the ambulance was going so fast the sirens may have broken the sound barrier and gone silent. They were prepared to operate straight away. The head physician was waiting for me, a well-known Ober-Nazi. He had gathered all his staff and was wearing his surgeon's uniform of coat, mask and rubber gloves. Two strong helpers held me down while they unstrapped me. My first instinct was to run for my life but sadly that wasn't possible. They put me on a trolley and took me to the top floor. The glass roof of the operating theatre was covered with a black curtain, giving it an eerie effect, like a chapel ready for the body of a general to be laid out. I was feeling more and more uncomfortable with all of this. Thank goodness they didn't put me under general anaesthetic and start cutting into me straight away. The head physician was on the phone waiting to be connected. My thought was that he may have been struggling due to the fact that all the telephone operators were in the air-raid shelter. He was not holding the telephone himself because he had already washed his hands; one of the nurses was holding it for him. Apart from these two there was also an assistant, an anaesthetist and two attendants. They removed all my clothes and covered me with an ice-cold linen sheet, from head to toe like a dead body. I was glad that it was taking so long to get a telephone connection. I think this may well have saved my life. Now he was in the room next to me and I could hear every single word.

  ‘“Is this the office of the Kieler Morgenpost? This is head physician Gründemeier from the Kriegsreservespital, the wartime reserve hospital. Yes, of course. I am speaking personally. What! It is not possible to send a reporter to this location? Don't you understand this hospital is one of the most prominent buildings in the city and is sure to be the main target of our enemies? Perhaps I should add, if you are not already aware, that the operating theatre is on the top floor under a glass roof, G-L-A-S-S, I said, that's correct. And in this most dangerous position I am about to operate with an unfaltering hand on a poor wounded individual, a sailor if you must know. I see we have different views when it comes to how much publicity this feat deserves. Should I add that I am a member of the party, the head of the surgeons, perhaps my opinion does count after all, especially when it comes to appointing the chief of the local division of a German national paper. Fine, Fine. I am not threatening you, but if you are sorry, maybe it would be best to send someone you can spare. Tell them to bring a camera; no lights are necessary, we have the strong operating lights. I will not start before they get here.”

  ‘The nurse put down the receiver and the surgeon said: “Katherine, please wipe my brow. I have developed a sweat. My goodness, it takes some effort before these people see any sense.” I wanted to say: “Please sir, my leg hardly hurts anymore”, but the second assistant made a threatening move as if to say, “shut up or we’ll give you some gas”.

  ‘“I wonder if we should ring up a second newpaper,” the doctor said to Katherine, “perhaps the Ostseebote?” but before this could go anywhere there was another signal – the all-clear. His face turned ash-grey and he murmured, “typical”. He was so angry that he didn't even let the nurse he
lp him remove his coat and gloves. Already with his hat on, he pointed at me and called out to the first assistant: “This man has a dislocation of his second knee joint, probably a torn ligament. You may want to x-ray him. I do not think an operation is necessary; the best option would be to cast it in plaster. If the reporter turns up, just send him away.” Without saying another word he left the room, slamming the door behind him.

  ‘The second assistant, the one who had previously threatened to anaesthetise me, followed closely behind. The first assistant, who had been the nicest up to now and was wearing the smallest swastika, approached me and asked where it hurt. Then he lifted my leg and stretched it in all directions before instructing the nurse that it was only a sprain. “You’ll need to bandage the knee but do it so that he is still able to move it. You may want to rub in some alcoholic liniment first.” Then he got changed, carefully and methodically, said goodbye and left.

  ‘I was looking forward to receiving attention from the kind nurse, but it was not to be. “If he really thinks I'm going to go to the locked cabinet and fetch a bandage, seeing as it's three o’clock in the morning, just for a sailor with a sprained knee, he must be joking. We ran out of liniment months ago – I could have used some myself for my sore shoulder. I am off now to see how our head is doing. I’ll try to cheer him up; otherwise he may go and do something stupid which we’ll have to sort out. And then I'm off to bed” – here she yawned – “otherwise I will look like a ghost tomorrow.”

  ‘I was left alone with the attendants who were giving me back my trousers, saying, “count yourself lucky, you got away lightly”. I then had to limp down the stairs on my own. As you know, it is not far from here and the place was still in chaos following the sirens. I was let in without problems. Anyway, now it's your turn!’

  This was a bit of a challenge. Just like with the captain, it was impossible for me to talk about my experience with Christine without giving away too much about myself and the secrets I was keeping. I didn't think it right to lie outright so I had to edit my experiences and shorten the story somewhat:

  ‘As I was on my way to the sailors’ home I met this wonderful person. She took me back to her place in her love and kindness. As you know, I had no money on me. I stayed all night and overslept so that I was late for duty.’

  ‘Out of love and kindness,’ he repeated, full of acrimony. ‘But then of course, you’re about twenty years younger than I am.’

  ‘When I came back here at ten o’clock in the morning,’ I continued, ‘they took me straight to the captain, and I had to explain myself. We had a long chat and he came up with this penalty. And here I am!’

  ‘A long chat with the captain,’ he asked suspiciously, ‘and what exactly did you talk about?’

  ‘The Minna von Barnhelm,’ I said, innocently.

  His friendly face turned puce with rage and he barked at me angrily: ‘Have you forgotten our oath? If any of those in the know dare to give anything away, even in fleeting conversation, then the others have the right to dispose of them. By poison, without warning, if necessary. So be on your guard!’

  I was very hurt and said, ‘I made no mention of this ship, Adalbert. You can believe me. You were asking me what the captain spoke of and I was only answering your question.’ Not that I feared that the Student, this good harmless fellow, was really going to secretly poison me, but I did worry a little. I wondered if all those in the know received a small amount of poison, only enough to finish someone off without his or her knowledge. Only yesterday, didn't I discover a mint in my pocket which tasted a little strange when I thought about it? These dark and completely unnecessary thoughts were soon abandoned as my friend rested his sharp chin on his bony hand.

  ‘Yes, the Minna von Barnhelm. You were on the second periscope. There was a large British flag painted on the side of the ship and an English name, I cannot remember which. If the idiot of a signalman hadn't dallied and spent ten minutes reading the dispatch from the command of the flotilla, then we would have known that it was not a British cargo vessel. If an entire ship or even a single passenger had managed to get away that would have been a disaster for the captain. As it stands, no one has the faintest idea how the Minna von Barnhelm mysteriously disappeared.’

  At least I now knew what had happened. I didn't feel I had to poison the Student for talking about the event; after all, I hadn't taken any oath myself. With the last words of the Student still ringing in the air, the door opened and my previous roommate Raimund Pachthofer entered the room. I don't know why he thought that being an ex-roommate gave him the right to barge in without knocking. He must have just heard the last few snippets and said, ‘The Minna von Barnhelm? Hey, that was the ship that disappeared without a trace. Any idea what really happened?’

  The private was used to being kicked in the shins for not asking any questions and must have been surprised and not a little puzzled that he was now being snubbed and thrown out of the room for an innocent query.

  NOTE

  1 The translation of the letter has been slightly altered here to accommodate the code.

  9

  THE NIGHTMARE

  The previous night I had managed to fall asleep with no problem. Tonight, after all the visits, it was proving difficult to find peace and quiet. I tossed and turned, uncomfortable, and with an agonising feeling as though my head was in a steam heater, my feet in a refrigerator, a piano on my breast and a crystal chandelier under the sheet. Even in a nightmare I showed my newly acquired expensive tastes. Where in my previous life would I have encountered posh items such as a chandelier, piano or fridge? My lips felt so chapped, I was sure I could have lit a match on them if I had felt inclined to practise such tricks.

  My breath was rasping and laboured. My nose, up until recently a fairly benevolent organ, trustworthy in carrying out its duty, was equally useless in its two purposes: breathing and smelling. It was reduced to a painful red instrument of hellfire. At last I fell into a semi-conscious state, hovering between sleep and waking. I tortured myself with harmful musings. Last night I fell asleep calmed by the thoughts that my fair and dangerous adversary would not be able to follow me all the way to Berchtesgaden. Tonight the voices were taunting me. Did I really think she would be so easily put off? If she had the task of following me, would she not find her way whether it be through oceans and deserts? She would have no trouble making her way to a peaceful health resort … one that could be reached by train, especially if the Gestapo was footing the bill and easing her passage. It was difficult to foresee what role she would play and how she would disguise herself, but the diversity of the German people offered many options and the Gestapo would have the means to provide anything she required. I would have to prepare to bump into her at every step of the way. There was no escape – So jagen sie ohn’ ermatten, they hunt him without tiring, as the poet had put it.1

  Stop! I said to my iron bed … it had begun to roll away and was circling around the room. Not so quick, you are making me dizzy. Please come back to the ground and don't take the corners so quickly! But the bed showed no mercy. If you insist on this movement please don't go in circles but move in a straight line. This was the extent of my technical knowledge. The speed at which the bed was going around corners defied all sense of centrifugal force. The sensation was so unnatural that it could only be a dream. But please dear bed; refrain from any further tricks such as bucking or trying to throw me off. I'm already feeling very nauseous. I felt that even in a dream I deserved consideration. The bed obliged and forged straight ahead but it was no longer a bed … it was a compartment in a first-class luxury train that was hurtling through the darkness. A streamliner made of black glass and metal with radio sets in each compartment.

  ‘Achtung, Achtung!’ the speaker toned. ‘All Germans take note, it is now twenty-one hours and fifteen minutes, Germany, stay awake! Think of Germany's magnitude, think of Germany's hardship. Do not fall asleep before the Reichs-Sleep-Chamber official gives permission to do so.
The Führer is also still awake. ACHTUNG, ACHTUNG, stay awake!’

  My head was hurting and I wasn't sure how I could make myself stay awake. I stared at the emergency brake, the only square item in the compartment. All others were streamlined and so smooth they didn't register. The brake was biting its handle: ‘Bitte sehen sie mich nicht an. Ne regardez moi pas, s’il vous plait. Si prego di non veder’ … ‘Do not look at me’ in three languages. It was a train that used to travel from Vienna via Tarvis, Udine and Ventimiglia to Cannes and the emergency brake was accustomed to communicating in three languages on its journey. ‘Please do not look at me,’ the emergency brake repeated. ‘The collisions I always have to face as a result, such a pain, I'm so nervous. I feel hypnotised by their gaze and lead me to commit suicide’ … The brake kept saying everything in three languages. A man walked down the corridor and opened all the compartments. It was the attendant in his brown uniform. He bore a strong resemblance to my captain. ‘Good evening, sir, madam,’ he called out to each occupant of the compartments. ‘Please refrain from hypnotising the emergency brake.’ I waited until he had disappeared from view, then shouted: ‘How dare you tell me what to do. I am the passenger and you are the attendant whose duty it is to serve me.’ In defiance I kept staring at the emergency brake. It is a technical item and I must fight against it; all such items are my enemies. Then the brake responded with a screeching voice: ‘Mein Gott, mon dieu, dio mio, I can no longer bear it,’ and it activated itself. A terrible jolt went through the train and we came to a standstill …

  A deep male voice said, ‘Pull back the drapes, nurse, let the patient watch the enemy fighter planes. Now that we are standing still we can start the operation.’