The Auslander

by Paul Dowswell

  A record player in the corner blared out jazz 78s. ‘Isn’t it too loud?’ said Anna.

  ‘They’ll never hear it down here,’ said Karl.

  They listened to Duke Ellington, Benny Goodman, Louis Armstrong . . . these were the exotic names the boys and girls in the Café Lebensart had bandied about. It was so exciting to hear the music this loud. Couples started to do extraordinary dances. ‘Is that the jitterbug or the boogie-woogie?’ said Anna to Peter, as couples threw themselves around the dance floor. They had heard about these American dances, which the Nazis had dismissed as displays of wanton abandon. He could certainly see why they thought that!

  Anna tugged at his sleeve. ‘Would you like to ride the gilded juggernaut?’ she asked with mock formality and dragged him into the middle of the room. They couldn’t do what some of the dancers were doing – leaping over each other’s shoulders – in fact they were lucky not to be hit by flying feet, but they could do the dance where you leaned back on each other’s shoulders and waved your hands.

  In the corner, a couple were kissing passionately. Peter didn’t know where to look. Then Anna grabbed him by the back of the neck and they were kissing too, right there in the middle of the dance floor. Peter blushed, but no one seemed to notice or care.

  Segur had found a girl to talk to. She was with a friend who seemed quite odd. They couldn’t put their finger on it, until they saw her arm. It was hairy and quite muscular. She was heavily made-up but Peter was sure he could see a hint of stubble. ‘She’s a he,’ said Peter to Anna. He was shocked, but then he began to think it was funny. So, here they were. With all the rebels in Berlin.

  They sat down next to Segur and the girl, who he introduced as Lotte. They were swiftly joined by another lad. ‘Swing Heil!’ he said to them all, with a throwaway Nazi salute.

  Lotte said, ‘This here’s Ralfie. He’s been in quite a few scrapes, haven’t you!’

  Ralfie needed no further excuse to tell them what he’d been up to. ‘Me and my pals here, we like to cause a bit of trouble with the HJ. Let the tyres down on their bikes! Smash up their clubhouses! Paint a few words on the walls! Me and Johann are going out afterwards to see what mischief we can get up to. You coming?’

  Anna nodded her head. Peter wasn’t so sure. He hadn’t drunk as much gin as she had.

  They kissed again. ‘Come on, Peter,’ she said breathlessly. ‘Let’s go mad. It’s time we had a bit of fun!’

  ‘Let’s see,’ he said cautiously. Then someone filled up his glass.

  ‘Down the hatch,’ said Anna, and Peter began to enjoy feeling this reckless.

  The music stopped. The dancers turned to look towards the record player. ‘HJ Patrol,’ whispered the boy who had turned it off. He glanced towards the door, white with fear.

  .

  CHAPTER 18

  The door to the cellar had been locked, and someone was shouting and banging on it angrily.

  One of the party organisers stepped forward and spoke quietly and urgently to them. ‘There’s an exit here out the back that takes us into Gross Hamburger Strasse. This way. Hurry!’

  Everyone followed, squeezing through a heavy wooden door and heading up a cluttered passageway behind kitchens and storerooms that stank of stale frying oil and boiled cabbage. This is what it must be like to be trapped in a fire, thought Peter. His heart was pumping in his chest but he felt strangely calm. Anna was right behind him, holding his hand. If anyone fell, they would be trampled by the people behind them.

  A narrow staircase led up to street level but it was dark now, the only light the open door to the room they had hurriedly left.

  Behind them, they heard a splintering of wood as the door to the cellar was broken open. The passageway was packed with bodies – all of them frantic to get away. Some of the party-goers were still there in the room. The crowd behind Peter pressed harder. It was almost impossible to move.

  ‘Give me some space,’ said the boy who had led them up the stairs. They pushed back. Peter felt like he was having the life squeezed out of him.

  The boy brought out a packet of matches and struck one. In the light of the flickering flame he located a nail at the side of the door with a key hanging from a loop of red ribbon.

  A quick fumble and the door sprang open. Cold autumn air flooded in.

  The crowd burst out to find themselves in a seedy backyard, lit by bright moonlight. Weeds grew in the broken paving and out of cracks in the mortar of the brick wall. There was an outside lavatory, several wooden boxes, three overfilled dustbins and a narrow wooden door. Someone rattled frantically on the handle. It was locked. Behind them they could hear the sound of splintering wood – tables and chairs – and shouting. Those that had been caught at the tail end of the dash out were putting up a fight. Some of the girls were screaming.

  ‘It’s the wall or nothing,’ said Peter.

  But the top of the wall was covered by barbed wire. It was too high to climb unaided. Peter leaped on to one of the bins, squashing down the lid as he reached up to the wire. ‘We can’t climb over this. Our hands will be ripped to shreds.’

  He put a hand on the wire and tugged. It was so old and rusty it broke. Behind them, the fighting was getting closer. In the distance a police siren began to wail.

  Peter frantically pulled at the wire until there was space to climb over. He jumped down to help Anna on to the dustbin but several other boys and girls pushed him out of the way, frantic to escape. After the first two or three had gone over, Peter began to fear for them both. He pushed a boy back so Anna could get up and once she was on the wall he clambered up himself. The boy he had pushed dragged at his trousers and pulled him away. Peter fell hard to the ground as the dustbin toppled over, spilling its contents on the yard. The boy was incensed and began to hit Peter. ‘Stop it, you idiot,’ yelled Peter. ‘Fight them, not us.’

  He tried to drag another dustbin over to the wall. The other boy, in a blind panic, was trying to grab it off him. By now the HJ patrol had pushed their way out there and the whole yard was full of flailing fists and boots. Someone in a black uniform dragged away the boy who was attacking Peter, leaving him a moment to vault on to the bin. Peter swung his left foot on to the top of the wall just as a hand grabbed his right foot. He brought his left foot down to kick at the hand and then the head of the HJ who had grabbed him. The boy fell back, clutching the side of his head. That was all Peter needed. He was over in an instant and landed hard on the cobbled street. Ahead was a narrow alley and then the wider Gross Hamburger Strasse. Dancing shadows and a commotion in the street told him the HJ were already out there. The siren they had heard earlier was screaming in his ears.

  A figure loomed from a recess in the alley. Peter tensed himself for another fight. ‘It’s me,’ hissed Anna. She grabbed his hand. ‘This way!’

  She led him away from Gross Hamburger Strasse, through a series of smaller alleys until they emerged into the square by Hackescher Markt. They stayed in the shadows until they were breathing normally. ‘You waited for me!’ said Peter, and kissed her on the forehead.

  ‘I thought you’d never come over that wall,’ she said, stifling something between a sob and a giggle. ‘What kept you?’

  She was distracted by the sight of blood on her sleeve. ‘You’ve hurt yourself,’ said Peter. Then he began to feel a sharp pain in the palm of his hand. It was him that was bleeding. He must have caught himself on the barbed wire. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped it tightly around the ugly gash. Anna tied it in place.

  ‘I have a special First Aid merit badge from the BDM, don’t you know,’ she pretended to swank, ‘like a good German girl. Nursing our brave soldiers.’

  ‘I’m sorry about your coat,’ muttered Peter. That would take some explaining.

  There were plenty of people here, milling about or sitting outside the bars and cafés. Anna quickly whipped off Peter’s flamboyant tie. They hooked arms and walked to the S-Bahn station as nonchalantly as they could.
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  ‘What happened to Segur?’ said Peter, suddenly alarmed. Anna stopped in her tracks.

  ‘I didn’t see him run away. Do you think he’d tell them we were there?’

  Peter said he was sure Segur would not betray them.

  ‘But you can never tell,’ said Anna. ‘I know how they work. Vati has talked about it. They promise you all the tortures of hell, then tell you they’ll let you off lightly if you give them names.’

  Peter envied Anna her relationship with her parents. She always called them Mutti and Vati. The Kaltenbachs frowned on such informality. It was Mutter and Vater for Elsbeth and Traudl, except for little Charlotte who still called them Mama and Papa.

  It was eight o’clock. The curfew for young people began at nine, but they were both too excited to go home.

  ‘Let’s walk back,’ said Peter. ‘I’ll never sleep after this.’

  ‘We should make it within the hour,’ said Anna.

  They crossed the Spree by Museum Island and continued down the wide avenue of Unter den Linden. It was a beautiful night. But as they walked the excitement and glee they felt at their escape began to fade.

  ‘I wonder what will happen to the ones who got caught?’ said Anna.

  Peter shook his head. ‘They might get away with a few bruises, I suppose. But I expect they’ll be taken off to Prinz-Albrecht-Strasse. The Gestapo will be keen to find out more about them and their friends.’

  Anna shuddered at the mention of the Gestapo headquarters. She had been there once with her father, who dropped in to deliver a file from the Home Army office. ‘It’s so strange,’ she told Peter. ‘Used to be an art school. It’s very grand inside. All marble staircases and pillars. Once upon a time, you went there to attend life classes and learn how to use oils or charcoals. Now you go to be tortured. That’s what passes for progress these days.’

  Peter jabbed her in the ribs with his elbow. There were two policemen coming towards them. The men walked past with a simple ‘Heil Hitler’, almost without giving them a second glance.

  As they crossed the huge square by the Opera House in front of Friedrich Wilhelms University, Anna said, ‘This is where they did the book burning. Just after Hitler came to power. The students, they ransacked the University Library. Anything they could find by Jews, Russians, Poles, out it went on to the bonfire. Dostoyevsky, Marie Curie, Freud . . . science, literature, the lot.

  ‘Still, as the Führer says, “If science cannot do without Jews then we will have to do without science for a few years.” It all makes perfect sense to me.’

  Peter didn’t know who Dostoyevsky and Freud were and he didn’t like to ask.

  ‘Students!’ she went on. ‘Not thugs like the Nazi storm troopers . . . Educated people did that! I was only five at the time, but my father mentioned it several times when we drove past. What got into them?’

  The question hung in the air. Anna said, ‘Hitler. He’s cast a spell on us all. It’s like an awful fairy tale. But some of us are waking up. Even if it’s just to dance to swing music.’

  As they reached the Brandenburg Gate and began to turn south towards Wittenbergplatz, Anna grew wistful. ‘This is such a beautiful city,’ she said to Peter, holding him tight with her arm. ‘What a shame for all of us that we have to share it with these lunatics.

  ‘If we lived somewhere else, another time, another place, we could just enjoy ourselves without having to worry about it. Go dancing, sneak into bars for a drink, and who would care? The Nazis have taken all the fun out of life. What have we got to look forward to? I don’t know how the war will end, but it may not be easy for Germany.’

  Peter worried that Anna was upsetting herself. But when he looked at her she seemed quite composed. There were no tears in her eyes. She was just being matter of fact.

  ‘Who knows. Perhaps you will be wrong?’ said Peter, and kissed her tenderly on the side of her head.

  ‘But that’s the awful thing,’ said Anna. ‘If I’m wrong and the Nazis win, then what hope is there for the world?’

  It was a chilling thought. For the first time, and with absolute clarity, Peter could see they were on the wrong side in the war. For him, in a year or two, there was the dark cloud of the call-up. He had still not decided which service to enter. The Luftwaffe was still his fantasy but so few who tried were accepted.

  So it would almost certainly be the Army or the Navy. Fighting the Ivans in Ostland or firing torpedoes at the Tommies or the Yanks in a submarine somewhere out in the Atlantic Ocean. Somewhere cold and dingy. For Anna, the choices were less stark but no more comforting. Those that stayed on the home front, they would have to wait for death to come to them, rather than go out and seek it.

  .

  As they wandered along Tiergartenstrasse they saw a couple of HJ ride past them on bicycles. The boys propped their bikes up against the wall of the Japanese Embassy and went into the large grounds. Peter and Anna peered through the railings and saw them ushered in through the front door.

  ‘Probably despatches of some sort,’ said Peter.

  Anna looked up and down the street. The moon had gone behind the clouds. It was a dark night and no one else was around. Before he could stop her, she knelt down and began to loosen the valves on one of the bicycles. Peter suppressed a snigger and started to work on the other. With air gently hissing in their ears they hurried, hand in hand, into the bushes of the Tiergarten. In the distance they could hear angry voices. They carried on walking, half hopping along. Then close to Hofjägerallee they stopped and laughed themselves breathless.

  It was getting late. They quickened their pace and parted at Anna’s doorstep. Just as they were kissing, the door burst open. ‘And where have you been?’ said Colonel Reiter in his sternest voice. Peter was tall, but Anna’s father still towered over him.

  ‘The Winter Relief Meeting, Vati,’ said Anna, trying too hard to sound innocent.

  ‘Not in that outfit, you weren’t,’ said her father. ‘And young Bruck was there too, was he? Short of members are they, the BDM? Open to the Hitler Youth, is it?’ His voice was calm but there was no mistaking the sarcasm.

  Peter had never seen Colonel Reiter angry before. ‘Come in the pair of you,’ he said. It was an order rather than a request.

  They were ushered into the dining room. Frau Reiter sat there too. She looked like thunder.

  ‘So what’s happened?’ she said to them both. ‘Anna, why is Peter’s hand in a bandage?’

  Anna looked confused. They had not expected this.

  ‘I fell and caught my hand on a stone on the pavement,’ said Peter feebly. He did not like lying to the Reiters. They were good people. People he admired.

  The parents nodded without smiling.

  ‘We’ve been to a dance at the Café Berta by Oranienburger Strasse,’ said Anna. ‘Perfectly respectable. Nice people.’

  ‘Come, come, Anna,’ said Colonel Reiter. He was trying to sound reasonable. ‘You would have told us you were going if that was the case. Peter, where have you been?’

  Peter wanted to say ‘What is this, the Gestapo?’ but he thought better of it. He liked the Reiters too much to be rude to them. Besides, Colonel Reiter looked as though he was about to punch him.

  ‘We went to a swing dance. It was broken up by HJ. We managed to get away,’ said Anna.

  ‘You silly, silly girl,’ gasped Frau Reiter.

  Anna, who earlier had been so composed when she talked about the future, was now looking like a tearful schoolgirl. She stared red-faced at the floor.

  Frau Reiter turned to Peter. ‘You must promise never to do this again.’

  ‘Did anyone you know see you?’ said the Colonel.

  ‘We went with Segur,’ said Peter. ‘We don’t know whether or not he got away.’

  ‘That’s bloody marvellous,’ said the Colonel. ‘How long d’you think it’ll be before he sings to the Gestapo?

  ‘Peter, we trusted you because we thought you were a decent and honourable boy. But you
are also foolish,’ he said. ‘I’ll tell you what will happen if Segur gives you away. The Gestapo will be round here. I expect a knock on the door anytime now. I hope you have a good story for Professor Kaltenbach when they come calling for you. I imagine he’s going to feel very disappointed.’

  Peter was dismissed. He wandered home in deep misery. The evening had been such a roller coaster. It had ended on a wretched low. He came back to the apartment and called in goodnight to the living room. Herr and Frau Kaltenbach called back but had no more to say.

  Peter lay awake for a long time, unable to sleep. And when he nodded off he was woken by the sound of sharp rapping at the door. He sat up in a cold sweat. It was a dream; one he had several times that night. The knock at the door did not come. But by daybreak Peter was still convinced they had got Segur. And what about the poor man who owned the café? Would he tell the HJ he knew nothing about a ‘swing dance’? What about the youth dressed as a girl? He was destined for Sachsenhausen for sure, if he survived the kicking the HJ patrol would have given him.

  .

  At school the next day Segur was nowhere to be seen. Peter’s fear intensified. He waited all day, sure the Gestapo would arrive to haul him out of his classroom. Maybe they had got Anna already? Maybe she would squeal on him? No. That would never happen. Just as he would never betray her – even if they threatened to pull out all his fingernails.

  School came to a dreary end. All day he had been caught between livid fear and exhaustion. Twice he had fallen asleep in class to have the teacher’s ruler rapped across his head to wake him.

  He could stand the suspense no longer. As soon as he was out of the school gates he rode his bike over to Segur’s. The boy’s mother answered the door. She looked shocked and timid. ‘You’ve come to see my poor Gerhart,’ she said. ‘See what they have done to him.’

  Frau Segur was a ninety-percenter, at least. She was proud of her bronze Mother’s Cross, awarded after the arrival of her fourth child. She always wore it on her coat and was most indignant if Hitler Youth boys did not salute her in the street, as they were obliged to do. Peter knew he had to play this one carefully.