The Crest

by Jerena Tobiasen

  “Why not?”

  “The bodies of anyone who died from typhus have been burnt to reduce contamination.”

  “And his possessions?” Gerhard asked.

  “Says here”—Eicke ran his finger across the page—“that he had none. They seldom do. They usually come in here with only the clothes on their back. No papers, no money, no possessions.”

  Eicke snapped the register closed. “Will that be all, sir? Any other missing bodies you’d like to enquire after?” Eicke said in a bullying tone.

  “No,” Gerhard said, deflated. “That is all.”

  Outside, Gerhard’s narrowed eyes scanned the camp again, seeing in more detail the misery of its occupants. This place is hopeless! I must speak to someone about Eicke and these deplorable conditions. These poor folks! Surely, Herr Hitler didn’t intend this. This is 1934 Germany, for God’s sake!

  Icy flakes of snow swirled around him. He wrapped the muffler tight around his neck and pulled his cap over his ears, then stuffed his hands into his leather gloves and slid onto the icy leather seat. He jabbed the key into the ignition, and the Rohr sprang to life.

  On the return drive to Liegnitz, he toyed with words, trying to find the kindest way to tell Alexi what had happened to his cousin. He thought of Rosalee and her daughter, and how devastated they would be to receive the news.

  When his mind was sorted, he contemplated the conditions at Dachau and what might be done to improve them. First, I must find someone who will listen. If I encounter any more men like Eicke, I doubt I’ll get very far, if at all!

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  GERHARD AND EMMA dropped Paul at the Liegnitz train station at the end of August, 1935. They waited with the other parents who were also there to see their young men off to the military academy.

  “It’s hard to imagine that it was twenty-one years ago when we all stood here to see you and Otto and the others off,” Emma said.

  “Yes, well, several of us are missing now. And, I doubt that anything in the coming conflict will resemble what happened twenty years ago,” Gerhard said with sadness, reflecting on that long-ago day. He reached out to his son. “Paul! The train is coming. Let us say good-bye before the sergeant calls you together.”

  “Stop fidgeting,” Emma said as she fussed over her son. “Let me adjust your collar and strap. There now. That’s better.”

  “Mutti,” Paul snapped. Embarrassed by her ministrations, he shrugged his shoulder from her grasp. “How will I ever learn to keep myself neat without your hawk-like eyes to sort me out?” A glint of affection betrayed his stern glare.

  “It will take an entire military academy to replace me!” she retorted. “Let me look at you. Every bit as handsome as your old father, I dare say. What do you think, husband?”

  “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, my dear.” Gerhard kissed the top of Emma’s head and admired the young man before him. “He’ll do.”

  The sergeant walked up behind Paul and snapped a tidy salute for Gerhard.

  In reflex, Gerhard returned the salute. “No need for that, Sergeant. I’ve been a civilian for some time now.”

  “Yes, sir. But, with respect, your service to our country is always worthy of acknowledgement.”

  “You’re away then?” Gerhard asked.

  “Yes, sir. I’m about to assemble the boys and have them board. Seems not so long ago that I was assembling your generation. Perhaps it’s time for me to consider retirement, too.” He sighed and continued. “But, then what would I do with myself?”

  Before Gerhard could think of a smart response, a warning toot sounded from the train. Turning toward it, the sergeant blew a loud whistle and issued a command for the young men to assemble. He winked at Gerhard and departed.

  Heading toward the platform, the sergeant bellowed, “Snap to it!” and the young men began to assemble in front of him. When they quieted, he gave them instructions for boarding and ushered them down the tunnel toward the platform. Families followed.

  Paul stepped away from his comrades as they clambered aboard the train, brought himself to attention, and saluted his father. Gerhard snapped a salute in response, releasing Paul to join his troop.

  With one hand on the rail and a foot on the lower step, Paul turned again to his parents. “See you soon,” he said and disappeared into the passenger car.

  Gerhard and Emma waited until the train had begun to roll and Paul’s waving arm could no longer be seen.

  “God help him,” Gerhard said, feeling a sense of foreboding. He wrapped his arm around Emma’s shoulder, giving her an affectionate squeeze, and guided her out of the station.

  They stood for a moment outside the station, letting the warmth of the sun penetrate their skin. Inside the station, the stones kept the air cold and damp. As if on cue, they each tugged the brim of their hats lower, to shade their eyes from the smile of the noon-day sun.

  Gerhard stuck out his elbow, inviting Emma to take hold. “Care for a drive to Bavaria, my dear?”

  “That sounds lovely.” She took his arm and leaned into him as they walked to the car. More like two youths in love than a couple married for sixteen years.

  Gerhard and Emma enjoyed the drive from Liegnitz to Bavaria. They spent several weeks visiting various small towns like tourists and driving through the countryside to gain a sense of the surrounding farming communities. It was mid-September, and the trees were beginning to change their coats of green for gold and orange.

  Well into the second week, they hired an agent and visited manufacturing plants and farming industries. They even took time to look at houses in the smaller cities, and overall viewed their time away as the honeymoon they had never had.

  Driving home, they reviewed where they had been and what they had seen.

  “What do you think, Liebling? Have you seen anything of interest?” asked Emma.

  “I have, indeed. I like the idea of an industry related to farming. It’s easier to evaluate what you already know. Father suggested that we invest our money first. We can relocate in time, if and when the need arises. We have enough equity to purchase any one of the farms or manufacturing plants. All we need to do now is decide which option is best for us. Mutti should be part of our discussions.”

  “I agree.”

  “What about you, Emma? Did you see anything appealing?”

  “As a matter of fact, I did.” Emma clapped her hands with pleasure, her blue kid gloves making a soft thud.

  She straightened in the seat beside him and smoothed the hem of her skirt. She had bought a new suit in Nurnberg—brown tweed—and a creamy silk blouse that tied in a bow at her neck. The rich creaminess accentuated her hazel eyes.

  Emma flexed her crossed ankles, admiring her two-toned spectator shoes. The movement distracted Gerhard’s gaze from the road, and the car jerked off the pavement momentarily before he corrected its direction.

  “Stop thinking about my hat!” she warned.

  “I wasn’t thinking about your hat!” he defended before his mind wandered again.

  “How you found kid gloves and shoes of the same shade of blue is beyond me,” he had remarked when she had modelled her new outfit earlier that morning. “And your hat! Now that is a work of art. The way it pulls together all of the colours in your outfit.”

  He grinned as he walked around her, eyeing her slim figure. “I particularly like the way it frames your face.”

  “In fact,” he said, continuing to ogle her, “the entire outfit is most … tantalizing, my darling! And when you put on that hat”—he leaned toward her—“I can’t keep my lips off yours!” He seized her swiftly, his kiss leaving her gasping for air when he finally released her.

  All during breakfast and while they loaded the car, Emma had shamelessly taunted him with her hat. By the time they were on the road, her lips were bruised and swollen, making them, in his opinion, even more desirable.

  A grin played over his lips when he glanced at her.

  “Do you want to hear my
thoughts?” she said, interrupting his musings.

  “Hmm?” His attention returned to the road. “Your thoughts? Oh! Certainly,” he said, remembering that he had asked a question. “Please. Tell me what appeals to you. I know what appeals to me.” He winked at her.

  “You are impossible!” She laughed, slapping his arm playfully. “Keep your eyes on the road, or we’ll end up in the ditch, you letch!”

  He reached to grab her arm, but she swatted it away, insisting that he watch the road.

  “In all seriousness.” She continued. “I liked the houses. I especially liked the red brick one in Bayreuth. The gardens were lovely, and so many rooms. The way it stretched wide and open on each floor. It even had three toilets! Just imagine … no waiting!”

  “Indeed! A little different from what we have now, I dare say,” Gerhard said, snickering.

  “Yes. We could even convert some of the rooms into a suite for your mother. I think she’d like that.”

  “Well, let’s not lose sight of that house, then. I’ll follow up with the agent once we’ve discussed everything with Mutti.”

  “Gerhard?” She looked at him, her face sincere. “I have so enjoyed these past weeks alone with you. I feel that I love you even more. Yet, how that could be, I can’t say.”

  He reached across and took her hand, raising it to his lips. “I understand exactly how you feel, Liebling,” he said before dropping her hand and taking control of the wheel as the vehicle once again veered, the right front tire dipping off the pavement and raising a small dust plume. “Emma, you are such a distraction!”

  “It’s a good thing that we’re almost home! Look! There’s the standard!” She pointed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  IN THE YEAR that followed, Gerhard, Emma, and Anna planned their great migration. They agreed that their initial investment would involve farming. Their intention was to relocate not just themselves, but anyone employed on the estate as well. They bought a dairy business on the condition that the vendor would continue to operate it for at least three years. Six months later, they added a business that repaired farm equipment.

  “Was that the bell, my dear?” Gerhard asked as Emma entered the kitchen from the hallway.

  He removed his muddy boots just outside the door and stepped into the kitchen. “That rain has made a nasty mess of everything,” he prattled, leaving his question dangling while he shook plops of water from his hat and jacket onto the doorstep before hanging them on a hook just inside the door.

  He shut the door and padded into the warm kitchen in his stocking feet, rubbing his hands to dry them.

  Cook stirred a pot of soup, steam rising as it burbled. Short wisps of silver-grey hair escaped her tidy bun, forming tiny, damp curls on her forehead.

  He leaned over the pot and sniffed. “Beef and vegetables. Mmm! My favourite.” He smiled dreamily at her.

  “Off with you,” she said. “Everything is your favourite!” She flipped a dish towel at him, then reached for the oven door to remove a tray of biscuits.

  Cook, whose real name was Henny Braumburg, had been a member of the Lange household since before Gerhard went to war. Her husband had died in that war, and she had no children or extended family. The Lange family had adopted her and offered her rooms of her own off the kitchen. They also offered her employment for as long as she chose to stay with them.

  When Michael died, Gerhard and Emma had moved their family into the manor, where Cook had remained in service. The cook whom they had employed to that point had conveniently been called away on a family matter, and soon after she advised that she would not be returning.

  Paul and his siblings had started calling Henny ‘Tante Cook’ and the name had stuck. Gerhard could not imagine another cook in the manor’s kitchen.

  He turned toward Emma, who continued to stand in the kitchen doorway, twisting an envelope between her fingers as if she were trying to decipher the contents without opening it.

  His earlier question forgotten, he asked, “Who’s the letter from?”

  “Hmm? Oh! It’s not a letter, really. I mean. Yes. You did hear the door. It’s a telegram. For you. From London,” Emma answered both questions.

  Gerhard took the envelope and tore it open. The note typed on telegraph paper read:

  11 April 1936 stop Sir stop With regret stop Leopold Gustav Alexander von Hoesch German Ambassador to the Court of St James died 10 April 1936 stop Office of Dr von Hoesch stop

  Gerhard reached for a nearby chair and dropped into it, handing the telegram to Emma as he sat. “That’s it then. First Vater, now Uncle Leo. What a tragic loss to us all.”

  “Yes, it marks the end of an era, doesn’t it?” Emma said sadly.

  “Indeed. I have a sense that we should begin preparations to leave for Bayreuth. Depending on how our investments play out, and how Herr Hitler manages the country, we should be well on our way within the next few years.”

  In the following months, they began to organize their future, and took time to speak privately with each employee, offering them the opportunity to relocate to the new farm or business. Some chose to take the offer. Others preferred to stay with the estate, where they had lived and worked for generations.

  Late one July afternoon three years later, the Bayreuth property agent telephoned Gerhard. “I have good news for you. The house in Bayreuth is available. Are you still interested?”

  Emma and Gerhard left for Bayreuth the following morning to look at the house one more time. As they stood in the foyer of the great empty house, Gerhard declared, “We’ll buy it!”

  “Would you not like to see the rest of the house first?” the agent asked.

  “We’ll certainly take another tour,” Gerhard responded, watching the dreamy expression on Emma’s face. “Regardless, we’ll buy it.”

  “I thought you might say that,” the agent responded. “I have the papers here. Shall we tour first, or would you prefer to sign …”

  When Gerhard turned to defer to Emma, he noted that she was already ascending the wide oak staircase that led to the second floor. “Looks like my wife wishes a tour first,” he said. He turned from the agent and took the stairs two at a time to catch up.

  “Fine,” the agent said, scrambling behind them. “Upstairs, you’ll find …”

  “The businesses are operating well. You have your house, and the timing couldn’t be better.” Gerhard summarized on the way home. “If we work it right, we should be able to move into the new house before Christmas, and the workers can follow when they’re ready.”

  “I’m happy that Paul will be home at the end of August. He won’t have to report for duty until January. He will be able to help with the move and settle into the new house before he reports,” Emma said. “I wish Otto would come with us. He could run the farm.”

  “He knows, Emma, but he prefers to stay in Liegnitz for now. He will oversee the running of the estate, as well. Should things become difficult, he is prepared to drop everything. As I do, he feels a responsibility to the land and the farmhands.”

  “Well,” Emma said, “I’m glad Tante Cook is coming. She and Mutti have been together so long, I can’t imagine one without the other.”

  “I’m not worried about them. I’m worried about your parents, though.”

  “But they’re obstinate. They will not give up their land and their home easily,” Emma lamented.

  During the days that followed, the manor was a beehive of activity. Emma supervised the overall packing, keeping an inventory of the furniture and other household items that would be packed and shipped to Bayreuth. The children worked with Anna to ensure personal items were packed. Tante Cook oversaw the packing of her kitchen.

  Gerhard gave instructions to the farmhands, who would travel to Bavaria in the New Year. He also met with Otto, Farmer Schmidt, and the remaining farmhands to discuss management of the estate in his absence.

  The day following Paul’s return from the academy, Otto arrived at the door of Gerha
rd’s study soon after the midday meal.

  “Otto, why are you here in the middle of the day?” Gerhard said, teasing him. “It’s not like you to quit before the cows are in the barn.”

  Otto’s face was difficult to read, lacking his usual grin.

  “Come in, sit.” Gerhard lifted the decanter. “Brandy?” He began pouring into crystal glasses. Sun through the window cast rainbows through the cut glass and onto the walls.

  “Your room sparkles this time of year,” Otto said. “I will miss that. And the brandy, of course.”

  He sipped the brandy blissfully, stretching his long right leg to rest atop his prosthetic left, crossing his ankles. Then he tipped his glass to Gerhard in a toast. “I have news that can’t wait. I’ve just returned from Oppeln. While I waited for Zabar Anker to arrive with his ship, I spoke with a few locals. Word is that trouble is coming. I suggest that you get out as quickly as you can. Send the old ladies off today, if they’ll go. They can take the children.”

  “Why? What have you heard?”

  “All the nonsense in Poland. No one knows who they are anymore. The Russians want one half of the country, and, of course, Deutschland wants the other half. Anyone caught in the middle is at risk.”

  “Yes, we’ve heard that on the wireless. I had hoped that we would have more time.” Gerhard paced across the room, turned, and paced back. “Will you come with us?”

  “No. Not yet. I think we’ll be safe for now. Farmers haven’t been upgraded to gentry yet, so we don’t pose the threat that you folks do. Hilde and I will stay and run the farm and the estate as long as we can.”

  “What about your parents? Can you convince them to come with us?”

  “If I can, I’ll have them ready to travel with the old ladies.”

  “Who are you calling old ladies, Otto Schmidt?” Anna’s voice preceded her entry from the hallway. She smiled as she stepped into the room, extending her arms in greeting. Otto gave her a warm hug, lifting her off the floor.