by Dean Hughes
“And younger. Those Peter’s age are manning antiaircraft guns now. That’s one of the reasons we’re on the run.”
“But Peter will have to go,” Brother Meis said. “It’s just a matter of time until they take him.”
“Maybe not.”
“Then you must be planning to leave Germany.”
“It’s better not to say.”
“Oh, Heinrich, that’s so dangerous.”
“Everything is dangerous these days.”
“Yes.” President Meis looked at Brother Stoltz for a moment and then seemed to drift into his memories. “I long for the days when our branch was going strong and the missionaries were with us. I wonder now how many of them are fighting in this war. Most of them, I suspect.”
Anna thought back on her days in the branch. So many things had been so lovely when she and her family had first joined the Church—when she had taught the small children in Sunday School and the branch had met in those little upstairs rooms.
“Do you still hold branch meetings?” Anna asked.
“Oh, yes. It’s not always easy. Travel is not possible for those who live outside the city, and many of the members are suffering such hardships. But we have meetings every week, and we try to keep everyone’s spirits up. I visit the members as much as I can, and I try to make sure no one is going without food. I know we have some terrible times ahead, but we hold out hope that all this will finally end and things can someday get back to where they were.”
Two hours slipped by quickly before Brother Stoltz said, “We should go now. I’m afraid we could put you in danger.”
“When are you leaving Frankfurt?” Sister Meis asked.
“In the morning. By train.”
“Then stay the night. We have beds now, with our children gone.”
The Stoltzes protested a little, but not long, and as it turned out, they stayed up very late that night, talking and remembering. And early the next morning the two families knelt together and prayed. President Meis prayed for the Stoltzes, that they might be kept safe, and he prayed that they all might one day see each other again. “And Father,” he said, “let the gospel be preached in this land again. Give us the opportunity to help in spreading the truth.”
By the time the Stoltzes were back on the streetcar, heading toward the train station, Anna was feeling a loss she had almost forgotten. She had lived with fear so long that the thought of escaping Germany had become an obsession. Now, however, she felt a renewed sense of what she had given up the day she chose to fight back against Kellerman. In one sense, Germany no longer existed, but if it returned, she would not be part of it anyway. If her family failed to make it across the border, all was lost; if they made it, much was lost all the same.
Two days later the Stoltzes were finally approaching the Swiss border. Twice, in southern Germany, the train had been attacked by Allied airplanes. All passengers had been evacuated into the woods during the attacks, and then, the second time, several hours had passed before the repairs on the track and train had allowed further progress.
All the nostalgia about leaving was gone now, and the tension was in Anna’s throat. She kept watching her mother, who was white with fear. Anna hoped that all their rehearsing would pay off. Brother Stoltz, with the advice of his friend in the underground, had chosen to cross the border at Basel, and to show tickets for Bern. But once in Basel, the plan was to buy tickets for Zürich. This would break the trail, and Zürich was a large city where a person could get lost more easily. Getting into Switzerland was a major step toward freedom, but it was not exactly a safe haven. Brother Stoltz had been warned that Switzerland was swarming with German spies, and a runaway “enemy of the state” could not feel secure, if known.
As the train arrived at the border, it pulled to a stop. Just as the Stoltzes had been told to expect, German border guards got on. A stout little man walked to the Stoltzes, who were sitting together in a pair of facing seats. “Your papers,” he said. And then, as they all handed over their passports and travel papers, he asked, “Are you Germans?”
“Yes,” Brother Stoltz said. “I’m an officer in the Wehrmacht. Home from Russia. I was hurt there. We’re taking a little holiday.” He had kept his voice light and friendly, and Anna was impressed by how natural he sounded.
“Russia? What regiment were you with?” The man was studying the papers.
Brother Stoltz had prepared all this information. He gave the number of his regiment, his rank, and the campaign he had been involved in near Kiev. “I was in a truck that ran over a mine,” he said. “I wasn’t hit by shrapnel, but I was thrown out of the vehicle, and I broke my shoulder and knee. My doctor said I needed some time to rest and recover, and my regimental commander was good enough to get permission for me to take a trip to Switzerland. My son will soon be old enough to enter the military himself, and so we’re having one last holiday together.”
“And where are you from?”
“Saarbrücken.”
This all sounded friendly, but Anna hoped the questions stopped soon. She could feel her heart beating, hear it in her ears.
“I am going to keep these papers momentarily,” the man said, without changing his tone. “I want someone else to talk to you.”
He walked away.
Anna felt the panic. She wanted to bolt from the train now, while they had a chance. She saw the terror in her mother’s eyes, too, and in Peter’s. But Brother Stoltz was saying, “Don’t lose control. We can’t make a mistake.”
“Why is he doing this?” Sister Stoltz whispered.
“I don’t know. He is merely being careful, I suspect. But if we act nervous, he may pull us off for questioning. Everyone must seem natural.”
Maybe two minutes went by, and the whole time Anna’s mind was racing, her pulse, too. She kept trying to take long, steady breaths and not look frightened, but she could feel that her upper lip was sweating as well as her forehead, and her mother was rigid with fear. Anyone could see that.
Anna saw a man in a black uniform—Gestapo—step into the car. He followed the little border guard to the Stoltzes. “Good day,” he said, sounding official but not unfriendly. He was a slender young man, erect, with a narrow face and clear, focused eyes. “I’m a little confused by your papers,” he said. He lifted the travel papers and studied them over for a time. “I hope you won’t mind, Herr Oberstleutnant Ingelstadt, if I ask you a few questions.”
“Of course not, young man,” Brother Stoltz said.
“I mean no discourtesy to an officer, and certainly not one who has only recently returned from the front, but these trips are not allowed anymore. Earlier in the war, officers sometimes took holiday in Switzerland, but we have not seen this in the past year.”
“Yes, I understand.” Brother Stoltz laughed. “Sometimes it helps to know the right people.”
“Could you tell me who arranged for this?”
“I told you. An Oberst, my commander. You see I have the proper papers, and I doubt that you need anything else.”
“You have to understand, if someone passes through with false papers, I must answer for that. Is there someone I could contact—to verify these arrangements?” The man was obsequious—on the surface—but behind the words Anna thought she heard a challenge. He was watching for her father to make a mistake, and he kept eying the rest of the family at the same time.
“I understand your position,” Brother Stoltz said. “Think of this, however. If I telephone certain of my contacts and explain that you showed an officer of my rank disrespect, that would also be something you wouldn’t want to answer for. I have proper permission for this trip, and I see no reason for further discussion. Would you please give me your name?”
“I am Agent Reinert. Excuse me for not introducing myself,” the young agent said. He looked around at the Stoltzes, focusing on one of them at a time. “Your wife seems nervous,” he said carefully, obviously probing again.
“She’s not well. This train has
been warm, and twice we’ve been held up by those stinking British bombers. We’re all very tired. That’s one reason I want no further delay here.” And then he softened his voice. “You understand, don’t you?”
Reinert nodded, and Anna could see that he was considering. “Not many survived your campaign. I thought most were taken prisoner last winter. How did you get out?”
“My injuries occurred in January, before the battle turned so much against us in the Korsun Pocket. I spent some time in a temporary hospital at the front, but I was shipped back by train. I was in a hospital in Nurnberg until recently. I am only now moving about some. But this is the first time since my return from battle that I have had to suffer insults.”
“No insult, Herr Oberstleutnant. I don’t intend such a thing. But I have a job to do, the same as a Wehrmacht officer.”
And still he stood his ground. “Where, exactly, are you going? Would you please tell me that?”
“Certainly. We are traveling straight on to Bern if this train ever moves again, and we will stay at a small resort hotel outside Bern, in Spiez, on the Thuner Sea.”
“And what is the name of the proprietor there?”
“Herr Kaufmann, I believe it is. The inn is called Hotel Adler. Check there, and you will find that we have a place reserved.”
Anna knew that such a hotel did exist. Her father had prepared all this information ahead of time. He had even made the reservation, just in case something of this kind happened.
The agent was jotting down the information, and Anna thought she saw a change in his manner. “I’m very sorry to have bothered you, mein Herr,” he said. “I hope you and your family have a fine stay.”
“It’s only four weeks,” Brother Stoltz said. “And then I’ll be happy to return where I belong—on the battlefront.”
The agent nodded again. “I admire you,” he said. “It’s such devotion that no one can defeat.”
“That is right, young man. We each have a role to play. I don’t blame you for playing yours. Heil Hitler.” He gave a Nazi salute.
The agent responded with his own salute and then handed the papers back to Brother Stoltz. But before he left, he took another look around, as though he were trying to remember everyone’s appearance. He studied Anna longer than seemed necessary. “Have a fine holiday,” he said to her, and then he and the guard left the car.
Anna felt her body relax, finally, but Sister Stoltz was letting go. She was quivering and taking quick breaths.
“Frieda, please don’t do this. Sit quietly. Don’t call attention to yourself. We’ll soon be in Switzerland.”
Anna glanced around at others in their railroad car; most were looking at the Stoltzes, at least in glances. Anna knew her family had to continue to be careful.
“Will they telephone the hotel?” she asked.
“I hope they do. We have a reservation. All is in order.”
“And what if they call in a day or two and we’re not there?”
“We’ll be in Zürich, and we have another set of papers. We’ll be using other names.”
“Won’t they start looking for us if we’re not there?” Peter asked.
“It’s not that easy for them,” Brother Stoltz said. “Germans don’t have free run of Switzerland. If the Gestapo comes after us, they have to do it with infiltrators—spies. This young agent can travel into Basel, to the train station, but he has no authority beyond that.”
“So we’re not safe yet when we cross the border?” Anna asked.
“Not entirely,” Brother Stoltz said. “But we have passed the big test. From all I have been told, we now have little left to worry about. So smile.” He smiled himself.
Anna thought she would feel better when they left Basel, but she was breathing more easily now.
The train jerked, inched forward, and then gradually began to roll. It had just begun to pick up speed, however, when it slowed and stopped. It had crossed the border, but now Swiss authorities stepped on and checked all the papers again. This time the inspection was cursory, however, and soon the train was moving again.
Peter let out a little whistle, and his father laughed. “Not quite so easy as I’d hoped—on the German side—but not bad,” he said. Sister Stoltz had lost her stiffness, but she looked bedraggled. All the pressure the family had gone through in the past few months had built up, and Anna knew her mother was close to a breaking point.
In a few minutes the train stopped again, this time at the Basel train station. The Stoltzes gathered up their luggage, and they hurried quickly from the train. Anna was relieved to get off. But they had only walked a short distance along the platform, amid the crowd of people, when Anna heard someone call, “Herr Oberstleutnant!”
All the Stoltzes stopped and looked back. It was Reinert. He had stayed on the train with them.
“Why are you getting off the train?” Reinert called. He stepped down.
Peter took a quick step, as though he were about to break into a run, but Brother Stoltz grabbed his arm. “No. Don’t panic. I’ll talk to him. We’ll be fine.” He turned back and looked toward the agent, who was fighting his way through the crowd. “What do you mean by this?” Reinert asked as he approached. He seemed genuinely surprised.
“I believe we change trains here. That’s my understanding. Am I mistaken?”
“Yes, of course. You know that. This train continues to Bern.”
Brother Stoltz felt in his coat pocket for the tickets, and pulled them out. He studied them for a few seconds, and then he said, “Oh, of course. You are right. Thank you so much for the assistance.” He looked around at his family. “We need to get back on the train,” he said.
“No,” the agent said, and he stepped closer to Brother Stoltz. “I don’t like any of this. Something is wrong here. I want you all to come to our office in the Bahnhof. I must do some checking before you can go on.”
“Young man, this is absolutely unnecessary. I told you already that—”
Reinert grabbed Brother Stoltz’s arm, and he leaned closer to him. “I told you, you must come with me. All of you.”
“Of course. I’m not saying we won’t. I simply hate to miss our train.”
“I cannot help that. Come with me, immediately.” He still held Brother Stoltz by the elbow, and now he was pulling him, rather roughly.
“That’s perfectly all right. I’m coming,” Brother Stoltz said. “But don’t walk too fast. I’m still not well.”
“You others go first,” Reinert said. “We will follow. Walk into the station.”
Anna stepped ahead, taking her mother by the arm. “It’s all right,” she whispered. “Don’t let him scare you.” But the fact was, Anna was terrified, and her mother grasped Anna’s arm so tightly that it hurt.
But Anna told herself to keep control—and to help her mother do the same. The two continued along the platform toward the main hall of the station. The crowd had cleared a good deal now. Peter was behind Anna and his mother. Anna glanced back to see that her father, at the rear, was still being escorted by Reinert. But just as she looked forward again, she heard a loud grunt. She spun to see that her father had shoved the agent toward the edge of the platform. Reinert was teetering on the edge, but he was still clinging with one hand to her father’s arm. Brother Stoltz slammed his arm across Reinert’s wrist, but the young man held on and was fighting his way back, trying to get his balance. And then, suddenly, Peter charged him. He slammed his shoulder into Reinert’s chest. Reinert’s hold broke, and he fell backward, off the platform.
Anna heard him hit with a thud, heard him cry out, and she glanced over the edge to see a look of terror in his eyes. He had fallen across the tracks, struck his head perhaps, or his neck. She saw his eyes roll back and his body go limp.
“Hurry,” she heard her father say. “But don’t run.” They all walked rapidly inside the station. Anna looked back and saw that two men were kneeling on the platform, looking down at the agent, but she had no idea whether they
would soon follow. Others had turned to see what had happened but seemed uncertain what to do. As the family entered the station, Brother Stoltz said, “Walk normally. Continue on through the station. Leave by the big doors across the way.”
“Aren’t we going to Zürich?” Peter asked.
“We don’t have time to buy tickets. We must get out of the train station.” He stepped forward, with his arm around Peter’s shoulder. Anna and her mother walked close behind, arm in arm. Each was carrying a little travel valise, but Anna realized that her father and Peter didn’t have theirs.
Anna looked back to see a policeman—Swiss—step into the big hall from the platform they had just left. He was staring about, but clearly he didn’t know whom he was looking for.
“Smile at me,” Anna said to her mother. And Anna laughed.
“What?”
“Say something to me. Anything. Act natural. Papa, look back at me and laugh.”
Brother Stoltz turned and nodded, laughed a little.
Anna laughed louder. “It has been a nice day,” she said.
And then they were at the doors, out of the building and into the dusk—into a city with more lights on than Anna had seen in a long time. She actually wished it were darker.
“Let’s get away from here,” Brother Stoltz said. “The local police might look for us. They have no idea why we . . . did that. If Reinert has come to by now, the police might have a description of us. There’s a hotel up the street. Let’s go there.”
And so they kept moving fast. As they turned and walked into the hotel, they all looked back. Anna saw no sign of anyone following, no police cars coming up the street. The little hotel seemed classy, very well kept. A pleasant young woman—a little heavy, with rounded cheeks—looked up at them as they crossed the small lobby. She smiled and said, “Good evening.”
“Good evening. We would like a room for the four of us, if you have something.”
“We have two small rooms close together.”
“Yes. That would be fine.”
“Do you have your travel cards, please?”
“We have passports. We are German.”
