The Traitor Blitz

by Johannes Mario Simmel

  "Nobody knows where I..." Fr&ulein Louise hesitated. How did it go—the beautiful poem? She couldn't remember. "Under the stars, under the moon." No, that was wrong. She sought desperately for the right words. They didn't come. And that was sad. Step by step she made her way along the narrow path that led onto the moor between bulrushes and water holes, to the knoll with the fog swirling around it. She felt dreadful and so weak. Her feet were smarting. She was short of breath and very unsteady. Every now and then she swayed. Never before had she found it so difficult to walk along this path. But she had to! She had to get to the little knoll out there. She had to get to her friends. That was the only place on earth where she would be safe

  She had fallen asleep in the train. Just before reaching Bremen the nice young woman who had said everybody called her Bunny had wakened her. Bunny's fianc6 had been waiting on the platform—a silent, tall, very good-looking man. He had taken Bunny's suitcase and introduced himself as Armin Kienholz, and been very cordial after Bunny had told him about Fraulein Louise's trouble and the danger she was in.

  "Of course you may come with us," said Kienholz. "And you can trust us. We won't say a word. We never saw you. Have no idea who you are if anybody asks us."

  "Thank you very much," said Fraulein Louise.

  Kienholz drove an American car. He drove fast and well. Fraulein Louise sat in the back and dozed, while Bunny, sitting in the front beside her fiance, went on and on about the goddamned pigs who had closed down the casino. And Fraulein Louise kept hearing the word "magnet," and didn't know what they were talking about. What kind of magnet? Didn't matter. She had met two friendly people, and the dreadful voices that had tortured her were silent. Fraulein Louise felt faint. There was only one thing on her mind: to get out on the moor, to the knoll, to her friends

  They passed through Zeven, and Kienholz proceeded on the

  miserable road to Neurode. Just before they got there, Fraulein Louise asked him to stop. Td like to get out here, please."

  "Very good, Fraulein Louise," Kienholz said politely, and stopped. He and Bunny shook hands with Fraulein Louise. "Are they reliable friends, the ones youVe got here?" asked Bunny.

  "The best."

  "Well, then, good luck," said handsome Herr Kienholz.

  He drove into the village to make the turn to go back and his car came by again almost immediately. As he passed Fr&ulein Louise he blew his horn three times; she waved.

  She watched the car until its red taillight had disappeared; then she walked carefully out into the reeds to where the narrow path began, the path she was balancing on now. The moon was shining brightly, the cloud ceiling had broken up, and it wasn't raining anymore. The bare birches were silvery in the moonlight and a lone swamp t)wl cried, "Bu-bu-bu-bu —"

  Fraulein Louise slipped. She almost fell into the swamp but managed to regain her balance and hurried on, on her swollen feet. She couldn't wait to get to the knoll, which she could see dimly now, as if floating in fog. There lay her salvation—there she would be safe from the cruel, horrifying voices. Her friends would have to help her now, protect her, and explain everything to her, because she didn't understand anything anymore. She was utterly confused, desperate, and totally discouraged.

  The knoll came nearer... nearer... a few ducks whirred up out of the water. "I'm coming!" cried Fraulein Louise. "I'm coming to you!" Then she stopped dead—because for a few seconds the wind had blown the clouds of fog away, and she could see the knoll clearly. And her eleven friends weren't standing on it, as they always had been. All she could see was eleven ugly, gnarled osier willows.

  She rubbed her eyes. That's impossible! she thought. I'm not seeing properly! She looked at the knoll again, and again saw only the eleven osier willows.

  "Oh, dear Savior!" whispered Fraulein Louise. "What does this mean?" But she hurried on, stumbling every now and then, teetering precariously, and it was a miracle that she managed to stay on the path. Now the knoll was shrouded in fog again.

  "Dear God, dear God," she whispered. "Let them be there! Let my friends be there! They told me to come, didn't they? I heard them clearly. Please, please, Almighty God, let my friends be there!"

  But Almighty God didn't hear her prayer, and when she was finally standing on the knoll, she found herself surrounded by eleven osier willows and wisps of fog.

  "Where are you?" she cried, stumbling back and forth between the willows. "Where are you? Come! I beg of you—come to me!"

  But her friends didn't come.

  Fraulein Louise was panic-stricken. She screamed, "For the love of Jesus, come to me! I need you! I need you so much!" But all she could feel was the wind, and all she could see was the billowing fog, and all she could hear was the swamp owl's cry. And her friends didn't come, not one.

  Now she was standing on the edge of the knoll, which sloped down here, to the moor. I don't understand, she thought. I don't understand anything anymore. Why don't they come? What has happened? And just then she heard it, coming out of the fog, again the strident voice of a woman. "There she stands, the accursed one!" And a murmur of men's voices, "Now we've got her!"

  "No!" screamed Fraulein Louise, and stepped back in horror, and slipped. This time she lost her balance and fell into a deep dark water hole beside the knoll. Her bag sank with her.

  She tried desperately to keep her head above the water, managed to grasp a root, lost it. Her head went under, came up again. She swallowed water, coughed, spat out what she could; and as she could feel mysterious forces trying to drag her down into the depths, down, down... as she fought for her life, flailing with her arms, trying to reach the root that could save her, she began to scream at the top of her lungs, "Help! Help! Where are you? Come to me! Help me! Help me!" But there they were again, the unbearable voices, roaring at her out of the fog, sounding like thunder in her ears, unendurable, horrible beyond belief—

  "Revenge!"

  "Death!"

  "Annihilation!"

  "Help!" screamed Fr&ulein Louise, spitting out a mouthful of swamp water. "Help! Help!"

  Chauffeur Kuschke sat up in bed, torn out of a dream he had often. It was early 1948 in his dream. He was living in Berlin and playing with his little girl, Helga; and his wife Frieda was sitting beside them in the courtyard of their apartment house, in the sun, knitting. Kuschke and Helga were putting on a great show and making Frieda laugh, little Helga was chortling with pleasure, and the three of them were so happy in the desolate, bombed-out city of Berlin, and Kuschke knew he was never going to be so happy again—

  "Help! Help!"

  "That—that's—" Kuschke jumped out of bed and into his slippers. He had recognized the voice at once. So now it's happened at last, damn it! He zipped up his overalls as he ran out the door of his room, and could see camp doctor Schiemann at the other end of the dimly lit passage, in a training suit, running toward her.

  "Those screams—"

  "Yes, Herr Doktor. It's our Fraulein, Herr Doktor!"

  "Come on! Hurry!"

  Both men rushed out into the night. They hadn't gone far when every floodlight in the camp was turned on. Two guards came running out of the barracks by the gate. The lights went on in several barracks, children in their nightclothes appeared, and some of the young people, boys and girls. They looked frightened and curious. Fraulein Louise's cries could be heard, coming from the moor, carried by the wind. "Help! Help!"

  Pastor Demel came running out of his barracks. He had on a black suit, no tie, his shirt was open. "Our Fraulein!" he panted.

  "Yes. But where?"

  "I know where. On the little knoll with che eleven willows!" he yelled.

  Camp director Dr. Horst Schall, in pants and shirt, his jacket still slung over his arm, came running. "We've got to get her!"

  "How? There's no way out there!"

  "Get ladders, boards, long poles! Quick!" cried Demel.

  The men ran off and came back carrying ladders, dragging planks and poles to the northeast corner of the ca
mp. Kuschke was helping the pastor with a long ladder. Now the young people left their barracks, their coats over their shoulders, calling out to each other excitedly—all of them running to the corner where the cement post had been torn up the night before. "We're coming! We're coming!" cried the camp director. "Hang on, Fraulein Louise! We're coming!"

  "Help!" answered Fraulein Louise, but it sounded weaker.

  Kuschke and the pastor reached the broken post. They tossed the ladder across the tilted fence and climbed up on it. The moon lit up the night. In the diffuse light caused by the fog, they could see the knoll every now and then, and something flailing around in the water below it. "There she is! Fallen in! Oh, good God "

  Other men came running. "One of the poles! Quick!" cried Demel.

  He jumped in first and sank fast, up to his waist, but he was able to shove the long ladder ahead of him. Then he pulled himself up and laid down on it and with the pole began to punt. The ladder with the man lying on it glided out into the moor in the direction of the knoll. Kuschke followed on a broad plank. He was punting, too, and cursing, and praying loudly. "Shit! Goddamn, shit! Save our poor Fr&ulein, Almighty God!"

  Now there were five men in the swamp... six... eight... ten, all of them stretched out on ladders or planks, moving forward between the reeds and the water poles. "Help!" A soft cry now.

  Kuschke turned around and saw the many people—social workers, young camp inmates—standing by the fence, watching the men floating forward on the moor. "Call for an ambulance," Kuschke shouted. "Call Zeven! They're to send an ambulance, fast! Just in case. I have the feeling—" And he could see one of the social workers run off.

  Kuschke went on punting. His plank rocked under him, his legs were submerged. He swore, then prayed aloud again.

  He and Pastor Demel reached the knoll at almost the same time, and Kuschke was horrified when he saw Fraulein Louise. Her face was distorted and she was deathly pale. She was clinging to a root, but her fingers were letting go and she was starting to sink, down, down. Kuschke jumped up on the knoll, the pastor after him, but he slipped and fell into the brackish water and swallowed quite a lot of it. He was dripping wet as

  Kuschke—strong as a bear—fished him out. They lifted the ladder and Kuschke's plank half out of the water and laid them up against the knoll, their poles beside them. The camp director and the doctor were coming nearer. Kuschke and the pastor ran over to the water hole that Frfiulein Louise had fallen into. Kuschke knelt down and said to the pastor, "Hang onto my feet." The pastor did. Kuschke, soaked through now, too, stretched out on his stomach and grabbed Fr&ulein Louise's hands. "Keep calm now, Fraulein Louise," he said. "Just try to keep calm. We're here."

  He was shocked beyond belief when she shrieked in response, "Here they are! My tormentors! Here they are! Help! Help! Help!" and tried to wiggle out of his grasp.

  Now the camp director stretched out beside Kuschke; Dr. Schiemann was holding onto his feet. Together the two men tried to drag Fr&ulein Louise out of the water by her hands, but she screamed as if demented, "Leave me! Leave me! Go away! You are the false ones, too!"

  "But Fraulein Louise—"

  "It's no use/' said Schiemann, "she doesn't know us anymore."

  "Doesn't know me? " from a thoroughly bewildered Kuschke.

  "She doesn't know any of us," said Schiemann.

  "Dear Jesus!" said Kuschke, "now she's really cracked up."

  "Get ready—at three we pull her up," said Schiemann, between clenched teeth. He counted. When they got to three they used every ounce of strength they had to pull the waterlogged woman out, and succeeded, Fr&ulein Louise screaming at the top of her lungs and trying desperately to free herself. They dragged her, raving, up the knoll, her clothes, her hair, all dripping wet. Once on land she fought tooth and nail, literally. She kicked and bit and scratched and screamed. "Criminals! Murderers! Keep away from me! Help! Help!"

  Kuschke grabbed her by the arms and turned her around, her back to him, and held her in an iron grip. The pastor came up to her. "Come to your senses, Fraulein Louise. Please, please try—" But he got no farther. With the face of a demon she looked at him out of crazed eyes, kicked him, and spat in the face of the man she had liked so much but whom she didn't recognize. "Monster!" she screamed. "Miserable persecutor!"

  "Fraulein Louise—" stammered Demel, her saliva running down his face. But she only screamed louder, "They who take my name in vain shall be the first to be judged!"

  "Oh, Lord, Lord, she thinks she's Jesus," said Kuschke, thoroughly unnerved now. He laid a hand over her mouth. To do that he had to let go of one of her arms. Immediately she struck out behind her and hit him in the stomach and bit his hand. "Owl" Kuschke yelled. At that Fr&ulein Louise suddenly sank to the ground without uttering another sound. She had fainted.

  She heard something whining. She didn't know that it was the siren of an ambulance in which she was lying. In the dim light she could see the shadowy figures of two big men. There they werel Now they had her! Now they were taking her to hell! "No!" she screamed. "I don't want to go to hell!"

  "We can't do a thing," Dr. Schiemann explained to Pastor Demel. "It's no use. She's in a paranoiac state. Nothing to be done about it."

  "Can't she be given something? I mean—"

  "Not till we get to the clinic," said one of the orderlies, who was sitting behind Fraulein Louise. "We might do the wrong thing."

  Fraulein Louise didn't hear these words right either. To her they sounded like, "There she lies. Now she can't get away from us anymore— Now we shall pass judgment on her—"

  "Away! Away! I want to get away!" shouted Fr&ulein Louise, and tried to get up, until she realized she couldn't. Her hands and feet were strapped to the stretcher on which she was lying. "Lost! I'm lost! I am damned!"

  The siren went on wailing and the ambulance sped through the night. It left the autobahn and soon after that arrived at the Ludwigskrankenhaus in Bremen. Fraulein Louise screamed and struggled against the restraints, she screamed until she had no more strength left, then she was quiet, but only for moments, after which she began to howl again, shouting, cursing, blaspheming.

  The ambulance stopped in the courtyard of the psychiatric

  clinic. The doors opened; two orderlies lifted the stretcher off the ambulance and wheeled it across the yard to Admissions and from there into a brighdy lit room in which two night nurses and an intern were on duty. Here they finally put it down. Pastor Demel and Dr. Schiemann went along with them.

  "Let me go, you devils, you dogs! Let me go! Help! Murder! Criminals!" screamed Fraulein Louise in a voice that no longer sounded like hers. The young doctor knelt beside the stretcher and tried to touch her, but she began to howl like an animal. He hesitated, afraid. He had only been here a few weeks. One of the nurses phoned. Pastor Demel also knelt down beside Fraulein Louise and tried again. "Everything will be all right, dear Fraulein Louise. Everything—"

  "Go away!" yelled Fraulein Louise, her voice breaking. "Leave me, Satan! Satan! Satan!" And she spat in his face again. "Untie me! Let me. go!"

  "We can't do that," said the young doctor, addressing the others. "It's impossible. She'd attack us."

  "Remove the straps," said a deep, calm, man's voice.

  Fraulein Louise was silent abrupdy. She stared at the man in the white coat who had just come into the room. He was big and looked strong, and he had dark eyes. "Well, now," he said, smiling, "at last, Fraulein Louise. Good evening."

  He gave the young doctor a sign and he undid the straps. Fraulein Louise sat up. There was complete silence in the room. Slowly, eerily, Fraulein Louise got to her feet and stood there in her wet clothes. The blanket that had covered her fell to the ground. She walked up to the big man who was still smiling at her. The pastor held his breath. "You..." said Fraulein Louise, in her normal voice, and using the intimate Du, "I know you."

  The man in the white coat closed his eyes for a moment, then he opened them again and looked at Fraulein Louise.<
br />
  "Of course I know you," said Fraulein Louise. Now she was standing in front of him. "You—" She paused, he nodded. "You are going to be my salvation."

  The psychiatrist, Dr. Wolfgang Erkner, nodded again. And suddenly Fraulein Louise embraced him and clung to him, and at last, at last, she began to cry.

  "The lines are fallen unto me in pleasant places; yea, I have a goodly heritage/ " Thomas Herford read in an emotional voice from the big open Bible on his lectern. His hairy hands were folded, the diamond on his finger sparkled in the indirect ceiling lighting. He looked at his text and added, "From the sixteenth Psalm. One of David's little treasures."

  "Amen," said Mama, lawyer Rotaug, manager Seerose, editor-in-chief Lester, picture-editor Kurt Ziller (back at last from the U.S.A.), and Heinrich Leidenmiiller, our top layout man. Hem, Bertie, Irina, and I said nothing. Irina was overcome by the splendor of Herf ord's office—like everyone who saw it for the first time—and she was exhausted by everything that had happened, and the drive from Hamburg to Frankfurt. I had driven the 495 kilometers on the autobahn at suicidal speed, with only one short stop. The long period of rain and the high wind had cooled down everything to prewinter temperature; the dark forests and fields on either side of the autobahn had looked as desolate as the innumerable black crows, flocks of them, which we had seen from time to time.

  I had driven straight to Blitz, and Herford had asked us to come in at once, together with Lester and Hem, and this time Leidenmiiller was included because he was to play an important part in what lay ahead. He stammered a little in his excitement over the honor, and there were beads of perspiration on his forehead. He was carrying press sheets under his arm—big sheets of thick, shiny paper.

  After Mama had said "Amen," she rushed over to Irina—who, startled, stepped back a litde; which didn't faze Mama—who embraced her, drew her head down, and kissed her on the cheek. "Oh my child, my child I" she cried. "We are all so happy to have you with us—aren't we, Herford?"