‘We’ll just have to jump on a goods train that’s going to Sassnitz,’ said Peter.
‘I do that all the time. It’ll be a walk in the park,’ said Anna.
Peter was stung by her sarcasm but he ignored it. Instead he reached over the table to squeeze her hand. ‘I’ve read enough escape stories about soldiers in the Great War! They managed to slip away from worse scrapes than this. We’ve come this far and we’ve been OK. We can look after each other . . .’
He was too tired to think of anything more inspiring. He thought she might snatch her hand away, but she didn’t.
They felt stronger after something to eat. Anna was trying hard to keep some hope in her heart. ‘If we walk away from the south of the station,’ she suggested, ‘then we could try and hop on to a train that’s slowing down as it approaches?’
‘There’s a hill too, on the way in,’ said Peter. ‘Trains always slow down on hills.’
Several trains did just that as they waited in long grass close to the line. But there was a flaw in their plan. ‘We have to wait until it’s dark,’ said Anna. ‘It’s too dangerous if the train stops at the station and we’re spotted.’
Twilight lingered for an age. Eventually night fell. There was nothing to do to take their minds away from what was happening. Occasionally Anna would burst into tears, and that would start Peter off too. ‘I can’t stop thinking about what they might be doing to Mutti,’ she sobbed.
Peter wished they had something, anything, else to keep them occupied. Even walking along the road would be better than this awful hanging around.
Trains came and went in both directions. The line was a busy one, with a branch to Ribnitz and Rostock off to the west. Before it went dark Peter noticed the cargo wagons had their destinations chalked on a little board at one end. That would help them make sure they caught the right train.
Soon after they heard the distant chime of 10 p.m., a goods train trundled by. They tried to run with their cases but it was difficult to match the speed of the wagons. Then Anna called over the rattling of the wheels, ‘It’s going to Lübeck!’ That was way off to the west.
They darted back to hide in the grass. ‘We’ll leave the cases. Take anything we really need in our coats,’ said Peter.
The next train came close to midnight. By then a chill had settled over the fields and they had cuddled up together to keep warm. This time they were lucky. The locomotive was pulling an assortment of wagons. Among them were several empty open ones. They had Sassnitz chalked on the side. The train slowed to a brisk stroll, and it was easy for Peter and Anna to run alongside and then up the small ladder that overhung the side of the wagon.
They passed through the station a minute later. The platform bridge loomed over them, but it was too late in the evening for passengers.
‘If we’re really lucky, we’ll be straight over the water and on to Rügen Island,’ said Peter. ‘And then we’ll be in Sassnitz by the early hours.’
A cold breeze whistled over the top of the wagon, blowing coal dust around. Peter hoped they wouldn’t get too dirty. That would make them very conspicuous. He peered over the side. They were on the high bridge over the stretch of water between Rügen and the mainland.
The air became warmer as soon as the crossing was completed and they both fell asleep. Only the jolting of the wagons as the train slowed down woke them. Ahead in the sky, Peter could see the dark silhouette of a marshalling yard lighting tower.
‘Thank heaven for the blackout,’ he said. Still, there was a bright moon, and all around, in silvery monotone, were platforms and lifting machinery and cranes and scoops. This was no place to be a stowaway on an open wagon.
The train slowed to a crawl. Peter and Anna peered cautiously over the side. They were stopping at a platform. The locomotive came to a grinding halt and gave a couple of brief whistles to announce its arrival.
Thirty metres or so ahead stood a sentry with his back to them, his rifle slung over his shoulder. He wasn’t paying anyone any attention, in fact he seemed quite restless, moving his weight from one foot to another. He started singing a song to himself, his voice carrying clear as a bell in the night air.
‘If this is Sassnitz, then we need to get off here,’ said Peter, ‘and find the port.’
They looked over the top again. Another sentry had joined his comrade. They could see the lamplights of other railway workers approaching. ‘I think the platform will be swarming with people very soon,’ said Anna.
At once they realised they were trapped. Anyone walking on the platform could peer straight into the wagon. ‘We can’t stay here,’ said Peter. ‘Besides, it’s probably about to be filled with coal.’
‘What shall we do?’ said Anna.
‘We’ll have to hide under the wagon,’ said Peter, ‘and then try to get away just before the train starts to move again.’
‘How will we know that?’ said Anna. She was close to panic.
‘There’s usually a whistle or a hoot from the engine, isn’t there?’ said Peter. ‘If the train is ready to go, then the workmen will have moved on to another one, or back to their hut for a coffee . . .’
‘But what if the train starts to move when we’re underneath it?’ said Anna.
‘We can’t stay here,’ he said. ‘We’ll just have to take our chances.’
After another peep over the top to check they could get out unseen, they both jumped to the ground and scuttled underneath. It was a miserable place to hide, between the gravel and wooden sleepers. The wagon axles lay just above their heads and the smell of oil and coal dust and chemicals made their noses twitch. It was just wide enough for them to lie side by side.
A couple of minutes later, they heard footsteps and voices. ‘Half of them to Trelleborg,’ said one. ‘Half to Rostock. We’ll be all night marking these up.’
Peter and Anna lay still and silent as the voices and footsteps echoed above their heads. They felt safe enough as long as the men stayed on the platform. Across the marshalling yard they could see a patch of rough, overgrown land. From time to time a warm salty breeze wafted over. They were obviously close to the sea.
Not far behind, they heard the sound of wagons being uncoupled. ‘If they come much closer,’ whispered Peter, ‘they’re bound to spot us.’ Ten minutes later they heard the chuff of a small locomotive and soon after that the sound of moving wagons. Looking down the train Peter could see they were now five or six wagons away from the end.
There was a groaning ahead of them that grew closer and closer until the axle right above their heads creaked and the wheels began to move. The locomotive was reversing towards them.
Peter looked up. Between the carriages there were dangling connecting chains. If they caught one of those on the head, it would be painful but probably no more than that, especially if the train was still moving very slowly. Being side by side was a bad mistake. They had so little room; one wrong move and a wheel would slice off a hand or a foot.
‘Anna, we need to get one in front of the other. You stay here, I’ll go.’ She nodded and he began to wriggle forward. She saw at once he was raising his head too high and grabbed him to push him down. His jacket sleeve caught under the rim of a wheel. It pulled painfully tight for an instant, giving him a clear idea of the weight of the wheel and what it could do to flesh and bone. Then the axle passed so close above his head he could feel it brush his hair.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ he pleaded. ‘I nearly lost my arm.’
‘And you nearly lost your head too,’ she cried over the rattling and creaking.
He inched forward. One of the chains clunked against his forehead smashing the glasses he had been wearing, then bumped down his back.
The train stopped. ‘Let’s go,’ said Peter urgently. ‘Just walk away. Maybe no one will notice us?’
Anna paused. ‘They might not notice you, Peter, but I’m wearing a dress.’
‘I’m not going without you,’ he said. ‘Besides, it’s dark
enough. You’ll just be a shape in the distance. You go. Wait for me by the tower over there with the bushes around it.’
‘Peter, just . . .’
Her whispers were drowned out by the creaking of the wagons. The train was moving slowly backwards again. It was a long train but soon enough the locomotive edged nearer. Not only could they hear it chuffing towards them, but peering ahead, Peter could see steam gushing from the vents beneath the wheels and pistons, and even the glow of the firebox. Worse than that he realised the front of the engine had been fitted with a fender. If that went over them they would both be mangled horribly.
He called back. ‘Anna, we’re going to be crushed. We have to get out between the wheels.’
There was a three or four second gap between the wagon wheels – maybe just enough time to roll over the rail without getting sliced.
The locomotive was drawing nearer. ‘You’ll have to be quick,’ said Peter. He thought perhaps that Anna would be too terrified to move but when he turned his head and saw her face she looked determined enough. A chain banged into the back of his neck and he flinched, his fingers instinctively grabbing the rail. He snatched them away an instant before the wheel rolled over them.
When he looked again, Anna was gone. Now it was his turn. He moved his body as close to the rail as he dared. One wagon went past, then another. He summoned up his courage, thinking, It’s now or never . . . but the next one was the coal tender. The wheels on that were placed too close together. The locomotive itself was nearly on top of him. Peter buried his face into the gravel and waited for the awful agony to come.
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CHAPTER 38
Sassnitz
August 12, 1943
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The next five or six seconds seemed to go on for ever. Screeching and grinding filled his ears, metal chains bounced along his body, he could feel burning heat on the top of his head. He wanted to scream but the sound choked in his throat. Then the noise changed. The screeching came to a crescendo and died away. The steam still chuffed and bellowed and he could feel the heat of it burning his neck and the skin on his hands. But the train had stopped. He was still alive.
Peter was right underneath the front of the coal tender. Above him were three overlapping plates connecting the driver’s platform to the tender. Through gaps between them, he could see the red glow of the firebox and what must be the boots of the engine driver.
With no conscious thought he wriggled backwards down the track until he came to the gap between the tender and the first wagon. Without even pausing to look, he twisted his body out from between the wheels and began to walk towards the tower. Whatever happened he was not going to stop until he got to that tower. Anything was better than being crushed by a train. Even being shot by a sentry.
The temptation to run was overwhelming, but he knew a running figure would be noticed. The yard was full of men going about their business. And they were walking.
The further he got from the train the safer he felt. Especially when it began to move again. As soon as he reached the scrubland, he dived into the long grass and waited. When the train stopped moving and a sort of quiet settled on the night, he called out as loud as he dared: ‘Anna!’
She whispered, ‘Over here!’ and they were together again. She hugged and kissed him, almost mad with relief.
‘What now?’ she said.
‘It’s best to move while it’s still dark,’ said Peter. ‘Let’s try to find the ferry.’
They followed their noses. The smell of the sea led them through fields along the edge of the town.
At first light Peter was horrified to notice Anna looked absolutely filthy. Her fawn coat was caked in soot. Her face was smeared with much the same.
‘You look terrible,’ she said to him. ‘Absolutely filthy!’
‘What are we going to do?’ said Peter. ‘We’ll be spotted at once, looking like a couple of tramps.’
‘And I’m starving,’ said Anna.
There in the fields they came to an old bath tub filled with drinking water for cattle. It was perfect. They both stripped to their underwear and began to wash the grime from their faces and bodies. In the dewy early morning it was freezing and their teeth chattered uncontrollably. But Peter felt a strange glee, and Anna too. They began to laugh even as they shivered. It was just too ridiculous.
‘What about our clothes?’ said Anna. ‘Don’t we need to give those a wash too?’
They beat their coats with their hands. Most of the dirt came out, although the coats now looked very worn and scruffy. It was good to have something to take their minds away from Ula and what they had to do next.
‘I’ve got a better idea,’ said Peter. In the distance he could see a farmhouse. Whoever lived there had left their washing out to dry and forgotten to take it in for the night.
They ran to the farmhouse. ‘Let’s hope the farmer isn’t up too early,’ said Anna. Peter was full of admiration for her. Managing to carry on like this, after what had happened.
There were trousers, a shirt and a dress. Peter just about fitted the trousers. The dress was far too short for Anna. ‘Very nice,’ whispered Peter, ‘but you’ll cause a scandal if you wear that in the street.’
A window creaked open and they saw a shadow behind a lace curtain. They heard an old woman shouting inside the house. It was time to go.
An elderly man came out into the garden and shouted angrily as they hurried from the farm. He began to chase after them, but gave up after a few metres. When Peter turned to look, he could see him wheezing, bent over with his hands on his knees. Still, they ran until they could run no more. The trees and hedges in the fields were laden with apples and early blackberries so they ate as many as they could find for breakfast.
Anna squeezed out of the dress and quickly pulled on her grubby skirt and blouse. ‘I’ll just have to keep my coat buttoned,’ she said. ‘Let’s hope it’s not too hot.’
The day was looking up. They headed for the harbour with renewed hope.
.
The port was busy. Sweden was still one of Germany’s main trading partners and a procession of lorries full of industrial goods was backed up along the main road to the ferries. ‘We need to sit this one out, I think,’ said Peter. ‘Wait until dark and see if we can smuggle ourselves on to the back of a lorry.’
So they sat there in the sun, hidden in the chalk hillside above the road. Anna dozed but woke with a start. ‘Every time I go to sleep I have a horrible dream,’ she said. After a while she sat up, but she stayed silent. Peter could tell she was trying not to think about her mother and father. ‘I wish we had something to do. All this waiting, it’s killing me,’ she said.
By lunchtime they were thirsty and hungry, but neither wanted to risk a trip into town. They would just have to put up with it. They could see the sea sparkling before them. As they watched the ferries come and go, they knew that there, over the blue horizon, was a country where swastikas did not fly from buildings. Peter said, ‘If we can get on to a ferry, we’ll be there in four hours.’
Four hours. That was a morning in school, an afternoon outing to the park. It was now a matter of life or death.
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Night fell with the same maddening slowness. All day the lorries had come and gone, but there was still a queue of them on the road below.
‘Look, there’s one with the tarpaulin come loose over the load,’ said Anna. Most of the other lorries had their coverings tightly lashed.
They crept down to the road. ‘How will we get in without being seen?’ said Peter.
Anna shrugged. ‘We’ll just have to be patient.’
They waited an hour. It was agony. ‘If the driver of that lorry gets out to check his load,’ said Peter, ‘we’ve lost our chance.’
‘I’m more worried about the queue moving forward before we can get on,’ said Anna.
Late in the evening the driver in the lorry overlooking the one with the loose tarpaulin got out and wandered back to tal
k to the man behind him. Anna had nodded off to sleep. Peter nudged her awake. ‘Now’s our chance . . .’
They crept from the shadows and hauled themselves up on to the back of the lorry. Underneath the tarpaulin were wooden cases containing bottles of chemicals. The smell caught in their parched throats and it took a terrible effort not to cough, but at least there was space to squeeze between the boxes.
They had picked their moment well. A few minutes later, they heard shouting. ‘They’re ready to go to the ferry!’ whispered Peter. His mouth was so dry he could barely speak. The engine started and then the driver got out to check his load.
They heard him curse, then say to himself ‘How did that happen?’ as he looked at the loose covering. They heard his clumping boots climb up the side of the lorry. Peter felt Anna squeeze his hand tightly.
A voice shouted in the distance, ‘Hurry, Dolf, we’re about to set off!’
The man cursed again. The tarpaulin was pulled tight over their heads and they could hear him lashing the rope to the stays around the rim.
The lorry began to move forward. Peter and Anna were immersed in a world of sound. It was easy enough to guess what was happening. First the lorry moved forward very slowly, stopping every few metres. That went on for ages. Then there was a conversation, dimly heard over the throb of the diesel engine. That would have been a checkpoint. The lorry moved forward – even picking up a little speed. They were jolted around and felt the weight of the boxes pressing against them. There was a rattling and juddering as the lorry mounted a ramp. Then the sound of the engine changed. They had gone from the outdoors to the inside of a metal chamber. There was more shouting as the lorry moved into position.
The engine was turned off. The driver got out and slammed the door. Eventually the deck settled down and there was another wait. ‘I have to get out of here,’ said Anna. ‘I think I’m going to be sick. And I’m dying of thirst. We’ve got enough money for a drink, haven’t we?’
They peered through a gap in the covering. ‘It’s a big ferry,’ said Peter. ‘It’s bound to have a café or dining car . . .’ Then he began to worry. ‘But once we’re out of here, we’ll find it difficult to get back, won’t we?’
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