If I ever ponder the idea of becoming a housewife, will one of you please kill me first?
“Heavens, that’s so Lotte!” Ursula exclaimed, interrupting her sister’s reading.
“Well, we never actually reckoned that Mutter would succeed in stamping her down, did we?” Anna said with a frown.
“I guess not. Our little sister burns with a fire that cannot be put out,” Ursula agreed. “Read on.”
Anna obeyed.
On a brighter note, I have finally made friends with another girl here. Irmhild is more intelligent than the rest, and she works at the town hall in the town where my secondary school is.
Through her, I may have found something useful I can do. I’m not stupid enough to think I can change the world, but my actions can at least make a change for a few people.
Lots of love, Lotte
“Now I’m really worried,” Ursula said, trying to banish the odd sense of foreboding invading her soul.
“No, it’s probably just talk. You know what she’s like,” Anna answered, but the clipped tone of her voice betrayed her true feelings.
“Should we call Mutter?” Ursula whispered.
“And tell her what? That Lotte has written a letter and wants to do something useful?”
Ursula gave her sister a fake scowl. “She’ll get herself into serious trouble. I can just smell it.”
“When has she ever kept herself out of trouble?” Anna laughed. “Do you remember that time a boy from her class told her that girls were inferior to boys, and she’d never be anything more than a housewife?”
“He never saw her fist coming,” Ursula mused, but deep down she couldn’t help feeling a little jealous. Lotte truly burnt with a never-ending fire. There was something infectious about her passion and unfailing enthusiasm for living and making things better. Her little sister possessed a kind of true bravery that very few did.
Ursula and Anna spent the rest of the day absorbed in household chores. Since their mother left for the country, they had come to appreciate the sheer quantity of things she had done to help them.
Certainly, they enjoyed the freedom away from Mutter’s eagle eye. No longer did they share a room, or have to tidy immediately after making a mess. But it wasn’t what they had dreamed of as teenagers – a life with no rules or curfews. Instead, they had to shop for groceries, cook, clean, and wash in addition to going to work every day.
Chapter 7
The months flew by in a blur, and summer flashed before Ursula’s eyes. Her work at the prison, though still a hindrance to her happiness, remained much more pleasant than before. Despite her feeble attempts to prevent it, Ursula had developed a bond with the female inmates.
She had cried tears of joy when Margit Staufer was released into freedom and tears of sadness when Hilde Quedlin was executed. It had been an unpleasant surprise for everyone at Plötzensee because Hilde had been the first woman to suffer this fate after the unofficial statement that women weren’t executed anymore.
The tension in the cellblock had increased to a point it where was palpable, and every woman had been asking herself if she were next in line. Ursula’s heart went out to them, but there wasn’t much she could do. If she was openly friendly with these women, her own life would be in danger.
In the first week of September 1943, Ursula walked the familiar path from the bus station to Plötzensee in the evening twilight. The hot summer was giving way to warm days and chilly nights while the leaves on the trees started to turn yellow.
Ursula stifled a yawn and dragged her feet toward the prison entrance. She’d begrudgingly agreed to cover for a sick colleague and work all night shifts that week. After a forty-eight-hour weekend shift, tonight would be her third night shift in a row, and she could barely keep her eyes open.
“Good evening, Frau Hermann,” Frau Schneider, who was on her way to leave the building, greeted her. “I’m sorry for making you work so much, but we’re terribly short-staffed at the moment. In case of a problem, please report to Officer Mayer from the men’s section.”
“Yes, Frau Schneider.” Ursula nodded to her superior. “I’m sure there won’t be a problem. Nights are usually quiet around here.”
The woman smiled. “I wouldn’t leave if I didn’t know I can count on you to keep it that way. Our inmates respect you.”
Ursula shrugged and forced a smile before she walked toward the changing room. Frau Schneider was a good woman, but Ursula didn’t dare to imagine how she’d react if she ever caught on to her prison nickname, Blonde Angel.
After her first inspection round, she settled into the staff room on the ground floor when all hell broke loose. She’d dismissed the earlier air raid warning sirens because the thick prison walls always gave her a sense of security.
Today, though, was different. A shell hit nearby, and the crash reverberated throughout the building, shaking the floor she stood on. Dust flew up into the air and Ursula jumped into the corridor and ran down to the shelter, located in the basement of the old building.
She arrived to safety just as another shell hit the building with a deafening sound. Officer Mayer counted the people in the shelter, and when he was sure all the guards had arrived safely, he locked the door from the inside. Everyone would have to stay until the all clear sign was given.
Even down in the basement, the walls trembled with the impact of bomb after bomb. Ursula crouched in a corner, avoiding the gazes of the other fifteen-or-so guards. She feared she’d find her own terrible guilt etched on their faces.
They’d left the men and women behind bars to their fates. Locked up. Not allowed to find safety. She didn’t know how long she listened to the dull thuds echoing around them, smelling the dust and smoke in the air while fearing for her life before she fell into a fitful sleep.
She woke many times throughout this hellish night, the terrified faces of the prisoners in their cells haunting her dreams. More than once, she was about to jump up and crash into the thick door, feeling the need to break out and help the men and women upstairs before they burned alive. But she knew from experience that she wouldn’t even make it near the door before the other guards would throw her down and hold her still until her breakdown eased.
She’d seen it happen more than once in the Hochbunker near her house. Sometimes, people panicked, and all they wanted was to get out. But it was too dangerous to open the doors during an attack, and the hysterical person had to be silenced by any means. That sometimes included a well-targeted punch to their head.
Many, many hours later, the all-clear siren shrilled. Ursula woke with a start and stretched her stiff limbs. Then they left the basement to take stock of the damage to the prison building.
The air was still filled with dust and smoke. Much to Ursula’s relief, the women’s section was almost untouched. However, the main building of the prison presented a picture of utter devastation. Rubble wherever she looked. The building must have received several direct hits, and the ensuing fire had done the rest. Most of the cells were empty, the metal doors hanging idly on their hinges. Iron bars had been ripped like sticks of licorice and bricks had shattered into sand.
Ursula and the other guards entered the courtyard where most of the terrified prisoners had gathered. She stared at the gaping hole in the wall of one of the cellblocks. Furthermore, the roof of the execution chamber was stripped, and the guillotine was torn from its base, damaged by fire.
Officer Mayer assigned the guards into pairs and tasked them to count prisoners and match numbers to names. Soon, they were joined by the incoming day shift, and within an hour, all the prisoners had been counted, recounted, and cramped into the remaining intact cells.
The prison director arrived, and judging by his worried face, there was a problem. After going through the lists of names again, the director finally gathered all the guards and announced that out of the three hundred plus prisoners, four were missing. Files of the four missing prisoners were passed around.
Ursula w
as too tired to even blink when she was paired with a robust man from the day shift to search for the fugitives. The premises were scrutinized inch by inch, but by the time the sun hung high in the sky, burning down mercilessly on the battered city, they still hadn’t found even one of the missing prisoners.
“Have you seen that pile of rubble over there?” her partner asked.
“Yes. You think they got out there?” Ursula answered on another yawn. The idea of walking over to the far end of the courtyard and climbing over that rubble wasn’t exactly inviting.
“Let’s go and have a look.”
Ursula sighed and trudged behind him to the pile of rubble scattered in front of the four-feet-thick brick and mortar wall surrounding the entire prison compound.
“Looks like there’s a hole,” her partner pointed out and glanced between Ursula and the crack in the wall. “You are small enough to crawl inside and have a look.”
She groaned inwardly. That was just what she needed after the night of horror she’d just survived. But her partner was permanent staff and senior to her so naturally she had to do his bidding.
“Here, take my flashlight, and I’ll help you climb over the pile of rubble,” he added in a voice that didn’t allow any objections.
With the help of her fellow guard, she reached the crack in the wall and squeezed inside. She couldn’t distinguish anything except for eerie shadows, but her neck hair stood on end as if she was being observed. Her heart racing, she switched on the torch and gasped in the same moment when the beam exposed the terrified face of a man. Despite the fear on his face, he was a handsome man with thick dark hair, strong but pleasant features, and exceptional green eyes.
Recognition seeped into her brain. Tom Westlake. The file she’d been shown earlier stated he was an English airman. A spy.
She lowered the flashlight, but he held her gaze, locking eyes with her. She stilled, and a charge of electricity passed between them. Ursula had no idea what was happening and blinked the emotion away.
“Please. All I want is to live,” the prisoner begged her.
She swallowed hard as the memories of Andreas and a happier time together with him swept over her. This man probably had a girlfriend, a mother, and a sister waiting for him at home, praying daily for his safe return.
His life now lay in her hands, as did the happiness of the innocent women who loved him. How could she be responsible for more suffering on this earth?
The prisoner clasped his hands together as if in prayer, and Ursula glanced one last time at him, giving a barely visible nod before she backed out of the hole in the wall.
“I can’t see anyone,” she yelled back at her waiting colleague. “The hole’s a dead end. They must have escaped somewhere else.”
Chapter 8
Ursula trudged to the administration building and entered the staff room without looking left or right. She wouldn’t – no, she couldn’t – look anyone in the eye, especially not her superior, Frau Schneider.
Oh God, what have I done? She not only let a prisoner escape. No, she had helped the enemy. This prisoner wasn’t just anyone distributing leaflets. He was an English spy. An airman. His colleagues were responsible for reducing her beloved Berlin to nothing more than ruins and rubble. For killing hundreds and thousands.
Bile rose in her throat, and she had the strongest urge to vomit. Her actions were shameful on so many levels, and if she were found out, she’d be hanged. Rightly so. I’m a disgrace to my Fatherland.
Despite her exhaustion, guilt and remorse forced her to take a detour on the way to the bus station to pass by the crack in the wall from the outside. She didn’t know what she expected to find and vacillated between hoping he was gone and hoping he’d still be there.
Ursula approached the spot with sweaty palms and found a pile of rubble similar to the one on the other side of the wall. Her pulse ratcheted up as she noticed the crack and peeked inside. Empty. The only thing she could see was light coming through from the other side and something that seemed to be a reflection of the sun in one of the few remaining prison windows. Thank God, he’s gone.
For a split second, fear grabbed at her. He might still linger, ready to attack her. Ursula closed her eyes for a moment and willed herself to breathe. He wouldn’t gain anything from attacking her – and those intense green eyes hadn’t carried a trace of violence. If – God forbid – she ever met him again, he wouldn’t hurt her. She hoped.
After a few more moments, she released a deep sigh and opened her eyes to the bright sunlight. The whole ordeal was over. It had never happened. She never saw anyone. Nobody could prove the contrary.
But as she sat on the bus, seeing the destruction from last night’s attack, anxiety pressed heavily on her lungs, making breathing difficult. She scrutinized every boarding passenger, praying it wouldn’t be the escaped prisoner.
The short walk from the bus station to her building was like running the gauntlet. She jumped at every person walking by, as if they were about to shout, “Stop her! She helped the Englishman escape!”
Her comfortable calm had left the moment she stopped living by the rules. Even as she arrived home, this new agitation followed her inside. She remained preoccupied as she walked straight through into the kitchen, where Anna was making lunch.
“Hello, Ursula, I’ve been waiting for you,” Anna greeted her before she turned around to look at her sister. She cocked her head. “Aren’t you going to take off your jacket?”
Automatically, Ursula looked down, surprised to find herself fully adorned in her jacket and outdoor shoes. She started removing them but did not respond.
“What’s bothering you, grumpy?” Anna’s forehead creased into a slight frown.
“Nothing. I’m just tired,” Ursula replied. It was only a half-lie. Her body was exhausted from lack of sleep, but her mind was abnormally alert, smelling danger everywhere.
“Don’t act like I’m stupid. Ever since Andreas died, you haven’t been the same. I’m not saying you should be…”
Ursula cast her sister a cold stare.
Anna stared right back. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m worried about you. I know it’s hard, but you can’t collapse in on yourself. You hardly even smile anymore. Don’t you remember what people used to say about your smile? How it could cheer anyone up, even in the darkest of times? I miss that.” Anna took a step towards her sister, but Ursula backed away.
“It’s not just Andreas...” Her composure was hanging by a thin thread, and she could feel tears spring to her eyes.
“Then what is it?” Anna asked, worry crossing her pretty features.
“I…” Shut up, shut up, her mind screamed, and she let out a long breath. “It’s just that the night was hard. Don’t worry about me. You’re right, Anna, I’ll try and be less withdrawn. It’s just hard to build myself back up in times like these.” Ursula forced her face into the very smile she was known for. “I’ll go and get some sleep before my night shift starts.”
“What about lunch?” Anna called after her, but Ursula had already closed her bedroom door and flopped onto the bed. She didn’t bother to take off her clothes or close the curtains. She wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway. How could anyone live with that constant fear stabbing her in the heart?
Exhaustion took over, and she dozed off, tossing and turning in bed, her dreams paralyzed by images of the prisoner as well as people surrounding her, calling her a traitor. A noise from the front door woke her, and Ursula sprang to a sitting position in her bed, her eyes glued to the door, fully expecting Gestapo officers to rush in to arrest her.
When nothing happened, she closed her eyes and forced herself to breathe. She grabbed the lamp from her nightstand as a weapon and carefully opened the bedroom door.
Nothing.
Except for a note on a ripped piece of paper, lying on the table.
Ursula,
I have to leave for work and won’t be back until late afternoon tomorrow. Please eat, and I
hope we can talk some time this week. I’m truly worried about you.
Love Anna
PS: I went grocery shopping, but you still have to get washing soap.
Ursula sighed, and her heartbeat slowly returned to normal. Anna regularly worked twenty-four-hour shifts at the hospital, and sometimes the two of them went for days without seeing each other. When Mutter had still been around, she’d never noticed, but now with only the two of them…a single tear of loneliness rolled down her cheek.
A glance at the clock told her she still had a few hours before she needed to leave for work, but sleep was out of the question. She decided to run a few errands. Walking in the sunshine would hopefully clear her head.
As she left the apartment, she heard the telltale click of her neighbor’s door, as the woman accidentally left her apartment with two shopping bags the exact same moment as Ursula did.
“Guten Tag, Frau Weber,” she greeted the elderly gray-haired woman.
“Guten Tag, Ursula. I didn’t see you in the shelter last night and worried about your safety.”
The hell you did. “Thank you for your concern, but I had to work and spent the night at the shelter over there,” Ursula answered without going into details.
“Thank God. Now that your Mutter is in the country, I feel it is my task to keep an eye on you girls.” Frau Weber paused for a moment and made to accompany Ursula down the stairs. “Is it true that the prison was hit severely?”
“Yes, but we managed to get everything back under control. I’m very sorry, Frau Weber, but I’m in a hurry to run some errands.” Ursula itched to get away from that nosy woman, or she’d soon be involved in some lengthy gossip about any and all persons living in the building.
“You young girls are always in a hurry. Go…I’ll see what meager rations I will get for my cards, and then I’ll visit my sister who lives three blocks away. She’s not good on her feet anymore.”
War Girl Ursula Page 5
