The Emerald Horizon (The Star and the Shamrock Book 2)

by Jean Grainger

At night as they lay beside each other, he explained how their resistance started small – letting the tyres down of the bicycles of the Hitler Youth and things like that – but it escalated to stealing their supplies, putting water in the petrol tanks of Nazi officials and generally trying to disrupt life for the regime they so despised. As the war escalated, so did their actions.

  The reason Willi’s friend Walther and his family fled the apartment the Weisses now inhabited was Walther had been caught storing Allied leaflets urging people to resist the Nazis and had been arrested. He was tortured by the Gestapo, but his father got him released with a huge bribe. His parents realised the only way to save their child’s life was to get out of Germany. They used the escape lines that had been set up to get out of the city, accompanied by people who knew the forests and countryside. It was incredibly dangerous and eyes were everywhere, but Ariella was heartened to hear that they’d managed to get several people out of Germany and to safety that way.

  And so time slid by. The autumn came and went and the hard winter set in, making life even more unbearable. Willi did his best to keep their spirits up, even dragging a tree up the stairs at Christmas. Though it wasn’t the holiday of her faith, she’d always loved the smells and sights of Germany at Christmastime. They would go tobogganing up to Teufelsseechaussee, and then she and Peter would take the children to the markets, where they had cinnamon cookies. They’d wrap their little hands around mugs of warm chocolate while she and Peter sipped cups of hot glühwein with schnapps.

  All of that felt a million years ago. And still the war ground on ceaselessly, the promises that it was nearly over ringing hollow now. People had been saying that since last June when the Allies landed in France. The plan to hide out in the apartment as a family that had seemed ludicrous at first had been working for the last five months.

  As 1944 rolled into 1945, she and Willi toasted the new year with a cup of ersatz coffee as Frau Braun slept. There were no bells to ring in the new year, but she stood and proposed a toast. ‘To 1945. To peace.’

  He clinked her mug and echoed her toast.

  They stood there, in front of a smouldering fire – any wood he could find was wet, but it was better than nothing. He put his arms around her, and she allowed herself to lean into his embrace. He held her. Her ear was to his heart, she heard the rhythmic beat, and she relaxed against him.

  ‘Not too much longer,’ he whispered, and she nodded. ‘You’ll ring in 1946 with Liesl and Erich, and there’ll be champagne and cake.’

  The idea made her smile. ‘And you, where will you ring in 1946?’ she asked.

  ‘Oh, I’ll be tripping the light fantastic in one of the ballrooms of Monte Carlo,’ he joked, ‘a gorgeous blonde on each arm.’

  ‘Blondes are your weakness, are they?’ she teased.

  ‘Actually no.’ He paused. ‘Blondes don’t attract me at all. Much too Aryan for my liking.’

  She chuckled. He was a tonic; even in the worst of times, he could make them smile.

  Willi easily reconnected with those who remained in the White Star and was active in their efforts to sabotage the Nazis. Occasionally, people stayed overnight, Jews who were submerged, and once an Allied airman who was passing through having survived being downed by the Luftwaffe – the resistance were trying to return him to his regiment.

  As winter wore on, all around them the Allies were closing in. The Soviets had one decisive victory after another on the Eastern Front, the British and Americans on the west had reached the Rhine apparently, and yet the wheels of the Reich seemed to keep turning. The Nazi radio had just the other day announced the appointment of Wilhelm Mohnke as commander of the Reich Chancellery, and Willi had laughed.

  ‘The Americans are bombing the living daylights out of them, the Russians are on the way, the Allies are cleaning the Nazis out of Western Europe – they reckon they dropped two thousand tonnes of bombs three days ago – and still they keep up this charade.’

  His mother urged him to keep his voice down. She was a bag of nerves these days, and the nights in the air-raid shelter at the corner of the street while the city was pounded hour after hour did nothing to improve the situation. She was waif thin, and even what little food they had she refused. Ariella begged her to eat, to nourish herself somehow, but it was a struggle.

  ‘Oh, thank God you’re back! We were so worried.’ Both Ariella and his mother rushed to Willi as he came home after being gone all day and helped him off with his soaking coat. It was snowing lightly outside, the February cold chilling them all to the bone, and he was wet through.

  Frau Braun went to get him a dry shirt and trousers as he stripped, and Ariella arranged his wet things in front of the meagre fire. Willi had managed to find some more wood and dragged it home a few days ago. It was as wet as the previous lot, smouldering rather than burning, and it had been painted with tar or something so it gave off horrible fumes, but it took the freezing sting out of the room. In desperation for some heat, they had moved both beds out into the living room as they could only heat one room. They had a paraffin ring for cooking.

  Willi winced when taking off his trousers; his amputation scar looked raw and painful. They had long since used all the medicine left in the house, and Willi hadn’t managed to find any more anywhere. At night it was the worst. She could feel him grinding his teeth in pain but knew he hated to be fussed over, and anyway, she had nothing to give him, so she pretended to be asleep, though her heart went out to him. He never complained.

  Ariella handed him a bowl of the stew, and he took it gratefully, shovelling it into his mouth. He was so thin – everyone was, she supposed – but he was strong and had learned to navigate life on his crutches with remarkable dexterity. He wore his army uniform every day, though he despised all it stood for, because it meant he didn’t come under suspicion. His army issue greatcoat was steaming as the snow melted off the shoulders in front of the fire. He was unusually silent.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Ariella asked quietly as his mother went to get him another bowl of stew. That would mean she wouldn’t eat today, but there was no point in talking to her.

  Willi looked at her, his face unreadable. ‘The Americans are coming, but the Russians are only sixty kilometres from Berlin. The talk is that Eisenhower and Churchill will hold back and allow the Soviets to take us, and if they do, well, there will be carnage.’

  ‘More bombing?’ she asked.

  ‘I don’t know. Probably. Though they may not want to waste the bombs. The city is more or less flattened now anyway, and there’s nobody left here but cripples and kids, a few old people and women, but I suppose they’ll pound us again. But that’s not the biggest threat.’ He sounded exhausted.

  ‘They won’t need much to end it, but I’m worried for you and for my mother. What was done over there… I was there, Ariella. I saw it with my own eyes. It was horrendous. The slaughter, the viciousness of it, I…I can’t describe it. What we did to them… And now their moment is here. They will exact their revenge.’

  He ran his hand over his stubbled chin. ‘I think you and Mutti should hide when the time comes. I’ll try to bring you food, but it is vital you are not seen.’

  Ariella didn’t understand. ‘But I’m a Jew,’ she whispered. ‘I can surely just say that. They are liberating us, not trying to hurt us…’

  He smiled, the saddest smile, and her heart melted for this boy with so much goodness in him.

  ‘You are a pretty woman, and what these Reds are promising to do to the women of Berlin… Ariella, they won’t care. You are for all intents and purposes a German woman, married to a German soldier. That’s all they’ll see. They used to taunt us in the night out there – when they got to Berlin, our mothers, our sisters, our sweethearts, our wives, nobody would be safe from them, and their commanding officers would do nothing to stop them. They see it as a reward, revenge, I don’t know…’ He ran his fingers through his hair. ‘What this war has made us, all of us… Ariella, the reports of what
is being done in East Prussia, to the women there… They are raping all females, regardless of age, and their officers are standing by, participating even. It’s not scaremongering, I promise you. It’s true.’

  She could see Willi wanted to spare her the gory details but needed her to understand the depth of the danger they faced.

  ‘Despite the horror propaganda about the base nature of the Russians from that liar Goebbels, he was right about this. They will spare nobody when they get here – not you, not Mutti, nobody.’

  She dug deep. She would survive. She had to – Liesl and Erich were waiting for her. ‘Will the Reds get much resistance from the Germans?’ she asked as Frau Braun returned and handed him another bowl.

  He nodded, smiling his thanks to his mother for the food. ‘They will, more than they expect actually, I think. Only the most faithful are still here, which makes them the most dangerous. There are various ragtag divisions of Waffen-SS, Hitler Youth, bits of army, all assembled on the Seelow Heights – a hundred thousand they are saying, but who knows if that’s true or not. Over a thousand tanks too. It won’t be enough, nothing like it, but it will be a bump in the road for the Russians all right.’

  The idea of huge regiments of Russians invading the city both excited and terrified her. The Americans would have been much better. Were they really standing back, letting the Russians take Berlin as a prize in return for their invaluable contribution? Surely the British and Americans wouldn’t be so callous? The city needed to be liberated from the evil grip of the Third Reich, not made to pay more. They had nothing left. Their home was in ruins, their families torn apart, people on the brink of starvation… And surely none of the Nazi ringleaders were even in the city any more – they wouldn’t endure this torture the way the ordinary people had to.

  ‘So now we wait?’ Ariella asked, fearful of the answer.

  ‘I suppose so. Try to stay alive and hope for the best.’ He shrugged. ‘How’s Mutti today?’ He jerked his head in the direction of his mother.

  Frau Braun was so quiet these days that it startled both of them when she spoke.

  ‘The same. Today the only thing she said was, “I don’t care. I’m old, and there is nothing for us after this anyway. Russians, Americans, British, who cares? And they’ll kill us. They don’t care that we have suffered. We are Germans, my husband was a Party official, my son a soldier. It is over now anyway.”’

  ‘Still cheery and optimistic then?’ He chuckled. Ariella laughed despite the situation.

  Ariella and Willi had spoken about his mother’s ever-darkening mood, and Willi did his best to make her smile. But when he was out, she hardly ate and barely spoke, convinced he wasn’t coming back, though he always did.

  She appeared with a cup of the tea they were making using leaves. It was fairly tasteless but it was warm. As she handed him the cup, Willi put his hand out for her to take, which she did, and he spoke sincerely to her. ‘Mutti, please, just hold on. We’ll get out of here, go back to the Black Forest, get a little house, and we can live there in peace, just the two of us.’

  Ariella knew Willi had been selling her this idea since they’d moved to Walther’s apartment. Every time she panicked, fearful that the next bomb would get them or that he had been picked up, he would reassure her with this dream. A little house in the country, just mother and son, living happily ever after. It soothed her nerves. She jumped at the slightest thing, but his plans for the future gave her a little hope.

  Willi caught Ariella’s eye; he needed her to back him up. His bond with his mother was lovely to see. Though she was hard and bitter, she softened around her boy, and he loved her deeply. They never spoke about his father; it was as if he’d never existed.

  ‘Willi’s right, Frau Braun. It will be over soon, and the liberating armies are civilised people. They won’t want to hurt anyone except those responsible for this horror, and that’s not us, not ordinary people. We will be liberated, and you and Willi can leave for the south and I’ll begin the trek to Ireland to see Liesl and Erich. We’ll have survived.’

  She was conscious that her tone was wheedling. It reminded her of the voice she used to use to get the children to eat their vegetables or wear a coat when they were little and didn’t want to. She owed both Willi and his mother so much as they’d taken an inconceivably huge risk in taking her in. She would make sure they made it too if she could.

  Willi shot her a glance of gratitude.

  ‘But my son is a German soldier. Are you stupid? They’ll know who we are, they’ll know who Hubert was… I don’t care about me, but they will kill my boy…’

  Ariella heard the note of hysteria in her voice and knew what to do. She crossed the room and knelt before the older woman. Though physical contact between the two was rare, Ariella took Frau Braun’s hand in hers. ‘I know how it feels to worry about your children. I know the sick feeling thinking that something has happened to them, that they are in danger. And though mine were little when I saw them last, I’m sure that doesn’t change as they get older. But Frau Braun, I have an idea.’

  Willi looked at her questioningly. There was some truth to his mother’s concerns. He was living openly as a veteran. If an Allied soldier saw him, or someone said who he was, it could go horribly wrong. He would have no time to explain his resistance connections.

  ‘There is a prayer, a Jewish prayer, that all Jews know. I’ll teach it to you both so that when the liberators come, whoever they are, we can identify as Jews. They will know of the Nazis’ treatment of our people, so they will help us. People won’t have documentation – Jewish identity cards were a death sentence – so this is how we will prove we are Jews. There are lots of submerged Jews living here in Berlin alone, not to mention all over Europe, and they will want to help us. And if you can say this prayer and you know a bit about Judaism, then I think we can get out of this.’

  ‘But we’re not, and people here, they’ve seen Willi in a German uniform –’ Frau Braun started.

  ‘When the time comes, we will dress him as a civilian. We’ll walk away from here towards the liberating army and tell them we are Jews,’ Ariella explained gently.

  ‘But will they believe that? I mean, I don’t look… And anyway, I don’t know, it feels wrong…’ Willi said. It seemed his mind was racing.

  ‘I don’t look Jewish either. Contrary to what the Nazi propaganda machine had to say, not all Jews look the same. Trust me, I think knowing this prayer will be enough. I’ll teach you about Judaism so you can answer some basic questions. And as for it being wrong, well, you helped a lot of Jews through the White Star and you helped me. There is a phrase from the Talmud that says, “He that saves one life saves the world entire.” That’s you, Willi, and your mother. You are righteous in the eyes of the Jews. They would want you both to survive.’

  ‘You were circumcised when you were born,’ his mother interjected.

  Willi coloured at discussing such things in front of Ariella. He smiled and shrugged, looking embarrassed.

  ‘That’s good,’ Ariella said, ignoring his discomfort. ‘I doubt they would check, but still…’

  Frau Braun exhaled raggedly, and both Ariella and Willi looked at her. The words came out slowly, painfully, as if each one was agony. ‘Your mother had you circumcised, before you were mine.’

  Willi’s face registered confusion. ‘What are you talking about? Mutti, maybe you –’ He clearly thought she was raving, but Frau Braun raised her hand to stop him.

  ‘It’s time you knew the truth, Willi.’ Her voice was strong now, more like her old self. ‘You are a Jew.’

  ‘What?’ he said, confused.

  Frau Braun inhaled, gathering what remaining strength she had. ‘Your mother was a servant in our house. Her name was Rachel, and she was a Jew. Hubert is your father.’

  ‘What? I don’t understand… What are you talking about?’

  Frau Braun rubbed her son’s hair, such love in her eyes. ‘I’ll tell you the whole story. It is time
you knew, and it might just save your precious life.’ Her voice sounded stronger now.

  Ariella sat beside Willi on the couch. He reached for her hand and she took it.

  ‘I grew up in Ludwigsstadt, in the Black Forest. My father was the mayor, and my mother the daughter of a local merchant – we were the wealthiest family in the town. That was why Hubert was interested in me. I was plain, but believe it or not, as a young man, he was handsome.’ There was no self-pity in her tone.

  ‘He came from Freiburg, on the other side of the Schwarzwald.’ Her voice sounded wistful, like she was losing herself in the mists of time. ‘His family were nobodies, his father a drunk, his mother went with men for money. He came to Ludwigsstadt, got a job and realised I was his ticket into society. So he courted me. I couldn’t believe my luck. My sisters were so jealous. He was athletic and very charming. My parents loved him too – he could turn it on when he needed to. So when he asked for my hand in marriage, he didn’t just get the daughter of the wealthiest man in town, he also got a plum job running one of my father’s mills and a lovely house into the bargain.’

  Willi’s hand tightened on Ariella’s, and she wanted to reassure this brave young man, to spare him whatever he was about to hear.

  ‘I knew he didn’t love me, of course I did, though he did a good job pretending in front of my family in the early days. My papa thought I was wonderful and believed every word that came out of that lying toad’s mouth. We had the big wedding, paid for by my family of course. I don’t think anyone came from his side, not one person. Can you imagine it?’ The question was directed at Ariella.

  Ariella thought back to her own wedding day, such a happy occasion. Her parents had looked awkwardly out of place at the start, but Peter’s father being his usual welcoming, open, smiling self soon melted their froideur. It had been a day of friends and food and music.

  ‘No, I can’t,’ she said quietly, and it seemed that was enough of a response for Frau Braun to go on.

  ‘He hit me on our wedding night. Got blood on the new dress my mother had made for me. I was so shocked. Nobody had ever hit me before. He said that I would do as I was told and that I was his wife now. All because I mentioned how kind my family was to us. He went mad, saying that he didn’t owe anyone anything and that if I thought he was going to snivel and be grateful all his life, then I could forget that.’