Everyone nodded, and a slender blonde girl named Johanna stood up, “Yes. The Russian people are good people. They have shown us how to get rid of a regime of injustice. They carry the right Weltanschauung. They just don’t have the technicians and engineers to carry it out. Now it’s our turn to help them.”
All of the scientists in the classroom were ready to help and transfer the knowledge and information Russia needed to modernize and keep up with their potential enemies. If tensions in the region increased, it was vital that Russia withstand an invasion from any country that looked upon them as easy prey.
Q liked the idea, but a little warning voice in his head made him raise his concern. “That is all fine and well. But how do we make sure this knowledge is never used against peaceful countries or their own people?”
Everyone started talking at once. When the noise ebbed away, Johanna spoke up again. “They won’t. In communism, the people are the government. And they wouldn’t do anything to harm themselves.”
That sounded like a very rational response. If the true power of a nation was in the hands of its very people, they would look out for the best for everyone. Everyone agreed the first stage of enabling the Russian people to develop was to help them defend themselves.
“Maybe we should emigrate to Russia and oversee the implementation of our work,” Michael suggested.
Q shook his head. “No, that’s not the best idea. We are more useful if we remain here in Germany to facilitate and promote a lifestyle of peace in both countries. Part of Russia’s problem is that it has been cut off from the rest of the world. They need a voice on the outside.”
Everyone present agreed, but one question still remained to be answered. “How do we get in touch with the Soviets?”
It was quiet for a moment before Michael said, “There’s a Soviet trade mission in Berlin.”
“A trade mission?”
“Yes. The official mission is to promote the trade between Germany and Russia.” Michael lowered his voice before he continued, “But, the Russian government uses this mission as a way to recruit spies and sell military goods to Germany.”
“That is strictly forbidden by the Versailles Treaty,” Kurt chimed in.
“Yes. But Germany and Russia signed the Rapallo Treaty in 1922. Two diplomatically isolated and outlawed countries joining forces to help each other.”
“That is just a ruse to allow both countries to gain military strength,” Johanna cautioned.
“We need more information on the subject,” Q suggested.
“I agree,” Michael said. “I suggest we ask a volunteer to try and gain access to the trade mission and their secret purpose of existence.”
Q immediately raised his hand. “I’ll do it.”
“Are you sure?” Wilfried asked.
“I am. If Germany is buying weapons from Russia, we need to know about it.”
The meeting adjourned a few minutes later, and everyone left the classroom in a hurry. He picked up his copy of Anna Karenina and followed the others out of the university building.
He decided to sleep in Berlin instead of returning to Oranienburg. Tomorrow morning, he’d embark on the adventure to reach the secret inner circles of the Soviet trade mission in Berlin.
***
Early the next morning, Q left his apartment. After what happened at Auer-Gesellschaft, he decided some precautions couldn’t hurt. He searched the apartment for a disguise and stuffed it into a bag before leaving. Taking a detour to the Berlin Zoo train station, he entered the public restrooms to change his clothing. A stale smell of pee reached his nostrils, and he quickly scanned the toilets for one that was acceptably clean.
He locked the door behind himself and changed into his disguise, black heavy-duty pants and an oversized jacket he’d borrowed from Jakob. His friend might be younger than he was, but his shoulders were much broader. He was also about two inches taller. The dark brown jacket hung on Q’s shoulders, making him look like a craftsman who didn’t care much about his looks and not like the scientist he was.
Before emerging as, he hoped, an unrecognizable man, he pulled his hat low over his brow, covering his signature curls.
Half an hour and several detours later, he entered the Soviet trade mission at Unter den Linden and asked to speak with the commercial attaché. He pretended to be the owner of a craftsman’s workshop seeking opportunities to trade goods with Russia.
The receptionist noted his name and request before she instructed him to seat himself in the waiting area. Almost an hour went by before a man in his fifties approached him. “Herr Quedlin?”
Q stood up and surveyed the man in front of him. “Yes. I am Wilhelm Quedlin. Herr Handelsattaché?”
The man didn’t answer but gestured for Q to follow him. They took seats in an office, and the other man asked, “How may I help you?”
“I was hoping to speak to whomever is in charge of scientific operations and exchange of knowledge.”
The commercial attaché raised his brows. “What does the owner of a craftsman’s workshop know about science?”
“Sir, I’m actually not a craftsman.”
“I thought so. Your outfit is actually rather ridiculous.”
Q sucked in a breath. He’d hoped to be convincing in his role. “I didn’t want to be seen coming here.”
Now the other man seemed to be interested and leaned back in his seat. He lit a cigar and puffed out a few smoke circles while he scrutinized Q. After a while, he finally said, “So what do you really want?”
“I’m a chemical engineer and would like to offer my knowledge and my inventions to the Russian people.”
The commercial attaché narrowed his eyes and shook his head. “That could be a trick. Who tells me you’re sincere?”
Q thought quickly and answered, “I worked with several Russian scientists while at university. One of them was Dmitry Zelinsky. He’s now a professor at the Moscow State University. He will vouch for me.” I hope he remembers me.
The man stared into Q’s eyes, apparently debating whether he should believe him or not. Then he spoke up, “Come back next month. In the meantime, we will verify your credentials.”
“That’s fair.” He handed the man a copy of the article he’d written about the gas masks. “Here’s a small offering for you to see that I’m serious.”
The man took the paper and bid him leave. “Thank you.”
Chapter 10
Hilde finished the file in front of her and stacked it on top of the others she’d processed that morning on the corner of her desk. She stretched her arms above her head and glanced at the large clock at the head of the room. Almost lunch time.
She cleared away the pens on her desk and reached for the sack lunch she normally brought along before heading for the small break room, waving at Erika and Gertrud to join her. Her company was too small to have a canteen and eating out was expensive.
Gertrud sat down next to her, disgruntled. “They’re threatening to fire some employees at the end of the month.”
“I know. I heard. In this bad economy, the company is having a hard time staying afloat. People prefer to save the insurance fee and count on their luck,” Hilde answered, opening her lunch box.
“The entire country is sinking. The unemployment rate is now nearing forty percent. Forty percent! Can you even believe such a thing has been allowed to happen?” Erika asked, shaking her head in disgust.
Every evening on her way home from work, Hilde passed the lines of people standing outside the soup kitchens and the job centers. The lines were growing, and the people standing in them were looking more desperate each day that passed. Hilde always felt a pang of empathy for them and thanked God every day that she still held a job. Not a great one, but one that allowed her to contribute her share to the household expenses. While she would love to move out on her own, it wouldn’t happen anytime soon. It was just too expensive.
“Something needs to be done, or we’ll soon be a nation of
beggars,” a woman from the sales force said in a loud voice. She’d joined their table together with two older men Hilde had seen several times, but didn’t remember their names.
“The Allied Powers are to blame for this,” one of the men said, and suddenly, everyone in the room looked at their table, and you could hear a pin drop.
“Yes, yes,” several people said in agreement.
The man spoke up again. “What gives them the right to choke the very life from the German people? Their reparations are outright dehumanizing.”
The head of the sales force had entered the room, and his big bulging face turned a deep shade of purple when he heard his subordinates talking like this. Hilde feared for a moment they’d have to face his disapproval, but he chimed right in on the conversation. “The Versailles Treaty is crippling our country. I was a young lad during the last war, and yet I’ll have to work my entire life to pay back a debt I didn’t incur.”
“I agree. Why don’t the French, British, and Russians try to exist under such harsh conditions and see what happens?”
“We need a strong leader to stand up for Germany and stop this madness.”
Hilde instinctively ducked her head and stayed out of the conversation. This wouldn’t go anywhere reasonable.
“Only a strong chancellor can bring our nation back to her former strength and glory. The war is long over. It’s about time for someone to step in and send the Entente Alliance back to where they came from.”
“With their tails between their legs,” Erika added, and the others applauded.
“One of our customers told me the Allied Powers want more money. What was agreed is not enough for them and they’re mounting an attack against Germany to extract even more. They want us reduced to nothing more than slaves,” the head of the sales force said.
Another man chimed in. “We need to stop this now before it cannot be undone.”
Hilde ate her lunch, questioning how much of this talk was actually based on facts and how much was pure street talk. She vaguely remembered having read somewhere that payment of reparations had been stopped the year before.
“Hitler is our man.” This came from a gentleman at the end of the table. “He’s not a puppy of the Allied Forces, and he’s promising employment for everyone. His first step is to build Autobahns all over Germany, to increase mobility of people and goods.”
“Can you imagine how it would be to drive a car from Berlin all the way to Stuttgart on a road that actually deserves that name? Without potholes, curves or intersections?” one of the men said with shining eyes and the conversation turned towards cars and the promise of affordable cars for everyone.
The girls shook their heads, quickly finished their lunch, and left the break room. As soon as they were out of earshot, Erika lowered her voice to a whisper. “I heard that the British want to take over Germany because their island is slowly sinking into the North Sea.”
Hilde gasped.
“And did you know the French soldiers eat little kids? We certainly don’t want them in our country,” Gertrud added with a shudder.
Those statements of her friends were so bizarre and far-fetched she figured they must be joking, but both of them showed only seriousness on their faces. What if they told the truth? Could it be?
Erika and Gertrud seemed well informed and invested in their opinions, whereas Hilde herself had no opinion whatsoever. Her father, a very politically oriented individual, had always taught her politics was no place for a woman.
But he’s miles away and being ignorant isn’t getting you anywhere. Maybe you need to become better informed.
“See you girls after work,” Erika said, drawing her from her mental meanderings.
“See you. Have a lovely afternoon,” Gertrud said and headed back to her desk.
Hilde was left alone, her mind spinning with everything she’d just heard. What was truth and what was just a fantastic story devised to play upon the fears of the people?
In this instance, she decided to learn about politics. After work, she stopped at the newspaper vendor stationed on the corner and purchased the Berliner Morgenpost and a big notebook. As soon as she arrived home, she read the paper from cover to cover, paying special attention to everything about current politics.
Organized as she was, she began a meticulous study of the different political parties, making a chart with the programs and beliefs each one stood for and cutting out pictures of key people to put on her new “learning wall.” The more she read about politics, the more interested she became and the more she wanted to know.
Her notebook became her canvas, and like an artist, she began to paint a picture with words of the political environment in Germany over the next weeks. Beneath the picture of Hindenburg, she wrote the words Weimarer Republic. He represented the current and ineffective government of Germany. Summarizing his achievements was easy. Failure was all she needed. The current government was failing in every aspect she could see. A change was needed. But who could offer a change for the better?
Three main players competed for votes: Adolf Hitler, head of the NSDAP – Nazi Party; Otto Wels, head of the SPD – Socialist Democrat Party; and Ernst Thälmann, leader of the KPD – Communist Party.
To the picture of each of the three men, she added a small statement that summed up each party’s core beliefs. This took some effort, and she honed the statement several times over the next days and weeks, whenever she collected new information.
Beneath the picture of Hitler, she wrote the words: Führerprinzip – Strong Leadership. Nationalistic. Economy directed by industry. Strong military. Superiority of the Aryan race.
Under the picture of Wels, she added the words: Reform. Opponent of Anti-Semitism. Egalitarian for economy and industry.
That left only the Communist Party picture of Thälmann, under which she wrote: Dictatorship of the proletariat. Equality of men and women, but against the Republic and Democracy.
Hilde sighed. Germany was going under, and as far as she was concerned, none of the popular parties would be her salvation. It was much more possible either the left or the right would lead her into complete destruction.
Still, she eyed her work in progress and felt a small sense of accomplishment. At least she now understood the political climate around her and was determined to keep abreast of what was happening and hopefully make an educated decision if the time came to do so.
Chapter 11
Q stared at his desk covered in papers with scribbled formulas and sketches of devices not yet in existence. Somewhere must be the missing link! I just haven’t found it yet. Not able to focus anymore, he decided to take a break and go for a short walk to freshen up his mind.
While he was still angry with Director Hoffmann for treating him unjustly and firing him without reason, he couldn’t deny that he felt better than he had in years. The burden of holding down a demanding job and having to subordinate his research to commercial interests had fallen like a stone from his shoulder.
Finally, he had all the time in the world to follow his passion and work exclusively on his own research, making inventions in the field of electronics, chemistry, and radio-transmission. And while he was thankful for that, the memory of the arbitrary treatment was a constant thorn in his side. A thorn that spurred him on to work harder and devote his time to inventing as many useful things as possible to help foster peace in Europe while also helping his Russian friends to make the Soviet Union a power that could combat Germany in the upcoming war.
War hadn’t been announced, and everybody around him seemed to believe the Great War had been the last one, but Q feared his country was headed for another war sooner or later. And the wise thing to do was to prepare for that day. One could never be too prepared.
That knowledge fueled his determination, and he decided not to look for another job. As his royalties were still coming in regularly, with more hopefully being added, he was in the comfortable position of not having to work for his living. Inste
ad, he used all his time and energy for research and made some major advancement into the usage of the oxides of nitrogen.
It was already dark on this winter afternoon, and he shuffled his feet in the freshly fallen snow as he considered his options. Recently, he’d diversified his research work and experimented with the possibility of using radio to operate devices or machines by remote control. Another of his ideas was to use sound waves and radio transmissions to detect obstacles. But something was missing.
Then he heard it.
“Who-o-o, who-o-o."
Q squinted his eyes in an effort to see the owl, but it was too dark, and the bird probably was sitting in a tree blocked from his view. As a youngster, when he’d lived with his parents in the countryside near Magdeburg, he’d seen many owls and bats.
Bats! That’s it!
He turned around and hurried home.
A few years back, an American physicist had proven that bats used ultrasound to orient themselves. As he hurried, his scientist mind envisioned a means to locate things like airplanes, ships and even vehicles using a system of echoes similar to the one bats used, but viable for long range detection. Radio waves.
He was itching to go over his formulas and set up some experiments, but as soon as he entered the building, his landlady appeared out of nowhere. I’ll bet she has some kind of tenant detection system.
“Doctor Quedlin, do you have one moment?”
No, he didn’t. “Surely, ma’am.”
She entered her flat and returned with a large envelope in hand. “This came with the daily post.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” He reached for the envelope containing an official-looking seal and wanted to sprint up the stairs to his own apartment. But he hadn’t taken into account the supreme curiosity of his landlady, who held onto the envelope, asking, “What is it?”
Q had no interest in divulging the contents to his landlady, so he answered nonchalantly, “Technical papers I need for my work.”
“Oh,” she said, her curiosity obviously not yet satisfied. “Did you notice we had another power outage today? This is happening a lot lately. Would you have any idea why?”
Unrelenting: Love and Resistance in Pre-War Germany Page 5
