The Crest

by Jerena Tobiasen

  Disheartened, Gerhard opened the car door and lowered himself onto the leather seat. “But, I’m here, and here is where I will stay: caring for the lost souls who find their way home and watching out for my family.” He winked at Otto. “God help them, and God keep us safe from it all!”

  Otto placed his hands on the car door and closed it gently. “Amen to that! Come by when you have time. We can talk more. Until then, keep your head down.” He hopped away from the car as Gerhard turned the ignition.

  Gerhard waved, put the Rohr into gear, and drove out of the farmyard and onto the roadway.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  PAUL’S PLATOON REMAINED in Breslau until early February, 1945, when they were redirected to Italy to join the mountain infantry. They were ordered to assist with reinforcement of the Apennine defence against the push northward from Rome.

  Before departing, Paul slipped away from the barracks and sought Ilse-Renata at the laboratory.

  “We’re leaving soon,” he told her, a worried look lining his face. “Don’t stay in the city too long.”

  “We won’t. Herr Kobelev has already been enquiring about transportation.”

  “Good!” Paul said, pulling her into a tight embrace. I hope I live to see her again. “Do you know where you’ll go?”

  “No. I need to find my mother. She was in München, but I think she’s moved north to stay with another aunt. I’m not worried. I’ll find them,” she said confidently.

  “And … I’ll find you,” Paul said before he kissed her soundly. “Wait for me?”

  “I will,” she whispered. “Come back to me.”

  Paul turned to leave, but froze in mid-step. “I have some news of your brother,” he said turning to face her again. “It’s not really news. Not great news, anyway. He is not listed as injured, captured, or dead.” He reached for her hand. “That’s the problem. He’s not listed anywhere.” He hugged her again. “I hope by the time I see you again, you’ll know where he is.”

  “Thank you for looking,” she said, her eyes glassy with tears.

  Any civilians remaining in Breslau on January 19th received a military command to leave the city immediately. Herr Kobelev insisted that he be allowed to meet with the garrison commander to discuss an extension for the departure time of the lab employees.

  “The submarines need the detergent that we’ve developed,” he insisted. “We need more time to finish the latest batch, package it up, and ship it out!”

  “Very well,” the commander granted, “but you must hurry, and don’t stay any longer than necessary. At best, we may be able to hold the Russians back another week or two, but their attack becomes more ferocious every day.”

  “Thank you, Commander. We’ll work as quickly as we can,” Kobelev said.

  “Be warned,” the commander barked before Kobelev exited his office, “if the Russians enter the city before you leave, I cannot promise you any protection.”

  Kobelev acknowledged his warning with a nod, before closing the office door on his way out.

  One week later, the last shipment of detergent was secreted out of the city, en route to the naval dispatch office.

  A few days later, the lab was almost empty. Evidence of the work conducted in the lab had been boxed up and was ready to be shipped to a more secure location the following day.

  “I’ve been speaking with my contacts at the airfield,” Prow Kobelev told Ilse-Renata. “I’ve heard rumours that some aircraft mechanics are planning to depart shortly. They intend to take a few trucks from the base before the city is completely under siege.”

  Ilse-Renata listened intently, knowing that whatever Prow planned would affect her. I wish I could telephone home. Mother will be fretting about my safety, but I don’t know where she is now.

  “I have some assets,” Prow said, breaking into Ilse-Renata’s thoughts. “Some money, jewellery and loose gems.” Her eyes refocused on his face. “Are you any good with a needle and thread?”

  “I learnt to sew in school,” she told him. “I’m not very good at it, but I can mend. Do you need something repaired?” she asked, confused that he should mention money and sewing in the same breath.

  “No. Just listen to me closely,” he said, casting his eyes about the lab and settling on the wall clock. He took her by the arm and led her into his office. “The others will start arriving soon, and I don’t want to be overheard,” he said.

  In the office, he disclosed their departure plan. “Tomorrow, come in early. Bring your sewing kit, a skirt, and a coat with you. I’d like you to sew my assets into the hems of some garments. Do you think you can do that?”

  “Yes, of course,” she answered, standing a little taller with the trust and confidence that Herr Kobelev instilled in her.

  The following morning, Ilse-Renata arrived early, carrying an extra skirt in a tote bag.

  “Ah! You’re here!” Prow said, greeting her. “Come into my office and we’ll work out the details.”

  She followed him, closing the door behind them, and hung her coat next to his on a wooden coat stand.

  “Have a seat,” he said, inviting her to sit in the guest chair he had set before his desk.

  From behind his desk, Prow lifted a leather satchel and opened it. On the cleared desk that stood between them, he placed two cloth money belts, two leather pouches, and a wallet. He shook out the contents of the two pouches onto a scrap of black velvet—one contained jewellery, and the other contained loose gems.

  “Ever since I sent my family away, I’ve been buying jewellery and gems with my spare cash. Unlike money, they are easier to conceal.” He looked up at her, giving her time to consider his words. “I need you to sew the jewellery and gems into the hem of our coats, and your skirt. Sew them in tightly, so they don’t rattle. Can you do that?”

  Sitting stiffly in the chair, Ilse-Renata nodded her understanding, twisting her hands nervously in her lap. “What about the money,” she asked shyly.

  “We’ll put the money into the belts,” Herr Kobelev said, fanning the wallet to show her the contents. “Splitting it so we each carry half. We’ll each wear a belt around our waist. You must never do anything to attract attention to the jewels or the money. I will use money from my belt first. If necessary, I will ask you for more later.”

  “I understand,” she said, her voice quivering as she answered.

  Having concluded his instructions, Herr Kobelev walked around the desk and placed a calm hand on Ilse-Renata’s shoulder. He peered into her teary eyes. “You mustn’t worry,” he said. “Together, we’ll get through this. We just need to be smart about what we do. Yes?”

  Ilse-Renata relaxed at his touch and showed him a brave smile. “Yes.”

  “I’ll leave you to your task, then,” he said, opening the door. “I’ll tell the others that you are doing some paperwork for me and that you are not to be disturbed.”

  “Of course,” Ilse-Renata said, making herself comfortable. She removed the thread and needle from her sewing kit and set to work.

  Some hours later, Prow returned to his office just as Ilse-Renata snipped the last thread. “Finished?” he asked.

  “Yes. Now what?”

  “Go home. Collect the rest of your things and meet me here tonight at six o’clock. Wear dark clothing and don’t use a suitcase. Wrap only those things that you absolutely need into a bundle. If you have portable food like bread and cheese, bring that, too. If we lose our transportation along the way, you must be able to carry what you bring. Pack wisely.”

  A crease appeared between Ilse-Renata’s brows, and her usual smile gave way to a frown.

  “Are you afraid?” he asked.

  “A little,” she answered.

  “You are wise to be afraid. Your fear will keep you alive. And I will protect you. I promise: you will be safe with me.”

  “I do … trust you,” she said sincerely. She grabbed up her coat and handbag. “I’ll be back by six,” she said, tucking her braids into her felt hat a
nd inserting the pearl hatpin.

  Taking up her handbag and the tote bag in which she carried her spare skirt, Ilse-Renata asked, “What about the others?”

  “I spoke with them earlier,” Prow said. “They’ve all gone home to prepare. I expect them back around six.

  “You need to be off.” Prow said, encouraging her to leave. “Rest a little, if you can. It will be a long journey.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  AT 6 O’CLOCK, Ilse-Renata met her employer in front of the laboratory. She wore the grey, hooded coat into which she had stitched the jewellery—a collection of expensive rings, bracelets, necklaces, and small broaches—and the black skirt into which she had stitched the loose stones.

  She also wore a pink pullover sweater and matching sweater coat, hoping to disguise the bulge of the money belt at her waist. The extra weight in her clothing made her feel sluggish, echoing her worry of what was to come.

  In her arms, she clutched her small bundle of personal items, including a change of clothes and a swatch of woollen fabric that her friend and colleague, Lieselotte, had insisted she carry.

  The weathered satchel that hung from her shoulder held bread, cheese, a heel of Schmidt sausage, and a bottled beverage. If I eat sparingly, I’ll have enough food for several days. After that, I’ll just have to rely on Herr Kobelev.

  “Right on time, Ilse-Renata!” Prow said as she followed him into his office, where a bundle of personal items rested on the top of his desk. “I can always rely on you for promptness. Thank you.”

  His kind smile reassured her. “The others will be here shortly. Remember, say nothing of what we’ve done.”

  Ilse-Renata hugged her bundle and nodded. When he opened the top drawer of his desk and removed a small pistol, she remained mute, but watched wide-eyed as he tucked it into the pocket of his greatcoat and slipped a box of bullets into a secret pocket inside.

  By 6:30, most of the laboratory employees had gathered just inside the door.

  “Everyone is here except Lieselotte,” Prow said. “Where is she? Does anyone know?”

  “I spoke with her just before I left the lab this afternoon,” Ilse-Renata reported. “She said she planned to go directly to the airfield to ask about a seat in an earlier truck. I tried to stop her, but she was too frightened to wait.”

  “Why that impertinent little …” Prow growled, stopping as if reluctant to say more. “Then we’ll have to assume that she found a seat! Let’s just hope that she hasn’t compromised our plans.”

  He glared at the others. “Leave the lights off. We don’t want to attract anyone’s attention.”

  In a stern, quiet voice, Prow continued. “A truck from the airfield will arrive in a few minutes. I have bribed the organizers of this little adventure in exchange for your seats. When it pulls up, you must quickly and quietly board. Please don’t speak unless necessary. We don’t know who’s watching, and we don’t want to cause trouble for the organizers. Understood?”

  In his hand, he held a torch. He snapped the switch on as he finished his speech and circled the light around the room. When each of his employees had acknowledged his instructions, he snapped the switch and the room fell dark again.

  Moments later, they heard the brakes of a truck squeal outside the door, then footsteps on the road in front of the lab and a rapid knock.

  “This is it,” Prow said, opening the door.

  One by one, he directed each of the men toward the back of the truck. When only he and Ilse-Renata remained, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and escorted her out the door.

  Hands reached out from the truck toward her. She handed up her bundle, which quickly disappeared into the dark interior, then took one offered hand in each of hers. Prow’s hands encircled her waist and boosted her up; then he jumped in behind her.

  As the last two passengers settled on one of the benches that lined the inside of the truck, the lab workers heard the clutch groan and felt the truck jerk into motion.

  Russian shells had begun falling on the city early in the evening, making the truck’s passengers tense on the ride to the airfield. Silhouetted against the munitions flashes, they found another truck loaded and waiting for them. The driver informed them that the other trucks had been departing at thirty-minute intervals.

  “We are the last,” he said. “As we travel, we will put space between us.”

  Together, the two trucks lumbered out of the city, into the countryside. The lead truck slowly pulled ahead until it disappeared into the dark. Each truck moved without headlights, to avoid being sighted.

  By the time the convoy reached the border between Germany and Czechoslovakia, at least an hour separated each of the trucks.

  Near Prague, as the truck carrying the lab workers passed through a forested area, it was stopped by Czech partisans. An argument ensued with the driver, who did not understand their demands. Some of the lab workers expressed their concern to Prow, fearful that the freedom fighters might cause trouble for them.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of this,” Prow said as he hopped out of the truck.

  Before he engaged the patrol in conversation, Ilse-Renata watched as he discretely patted the right pocket of his greatcoat, as if to reassure himself that the pistol remained stowed there, available if needed.

  When, in the language of the partisans, he suggested that they accept two gemstones to help their cause, the truck was waved onward.

  As the gears of the truck groaned into motion, Prow climbed into the truck and resumed his seat.

  Ilse-Renata immediately released a breath that she had not realized she held. Sighing, she said a silent prayer that use of the gun was not required.

  After Prague, the trucks turned south and west, travelling through Pilsen toward Oberpfalz, a region northwest of the Bavarian Forest. American planes buzzed overhead when the truck passed along train tracks. Machine-gun fire sparked from the planes, but the truck in which Ilse-Renata travelled with her colleagues was spared.

  Not long after, they came upon the remnants of one of the airfield trucks from Breslau. Its shell sat in the centre of the road, badly burnt, flames still licking from under the hood. Ilse-Renata covered her mouth with her hands to stifle her shock.

  “What is it?” Prow whispered.

  “That’s the truck we saw Lieselotte riding in this morning.” She gasped.

  As their truck passed the burnt-out shell, holes in the sides of the vehicle told them that it had been strafed by the machine-guns of American fighter planes. Charred remains of some of the occupants were still visible, including the driver and two large men who had been sitting in the back. Nothing could be seen of Lieselotte.

  “She wanted me to go with her.” Ilse-Renata sobbed. “I told her we’d be safer with you, but she wouldn’t listen!”

  A short time later, as the truck navigated through Oberpfalz, it was stopped at an American check point. On approach to the check point, Ilse-Renata and her truck-mates became more animated.

  “I never thought we’d make it!” one of the former lab workers said. “Now we’re safe. The Americans will protect us from the Russians!”

  “Look at these guys,” another colleague exclaimed. “In Germany, we never see so many coffee-coloured men together in one place.”

  Prow hopped from the back of the truck, and once again Ilse-Renata watched his hand slide discretely over the coat pocket that held the pistol before he approached the American soldiers. He explained who they were, and that they had come to Oberpfalz seeking American protection from the Russians.

  One of the soldiers gave him directions to a Red Cross station further along the same road, where they could ask for food, then used his rifle to gesture them onward.

  At the Red Cross station, their names were added to a growing list of displaced persons. In addition to reporting their whereabouts, they were able to learn the whereabouts of family members.

  The truck bearing Ilse-Renata and her colleagues continued to travel un
til they arrived at Weiding, where the first of the men set off in search of his family.

  In rapid succession, more of the men left the truck to find their families, until only Ilse-Renata and Prow remained. By that time, the truck had run out of fuel, and no more could be found. Prow had spent all his cash on provisions, accommodation, fuel, and bribes.

  “Wait here,” Prow told Ilse-Renata as they walked into a vacated train station. “I’ll see if I can find us transportation.”

  He stopped mid-step and returned. “You’d better give me a few of the stones,” he said. “I’ll need to show I can pay. Go inside, so no one can see what you’re doing.”

  A few minutes later, Ilse-Renata appeared at his side. She held a closed fist out to him and released five gemstones into his open hand.

  “Wait here,” he said. “I’ll try to find food, too.”

  Ilse-Renata sat on a bench, fighting against the warmth of the morning sun and the hunger that threatened to lull her into a doze.

  Heavy footsteps alerted her to someone’s approach. She jumped to her feet and ducked inside the train station, her heart pounding. She crouched inside the doorway and listened to a heated exchange between three American soldiers who stomped past the entrance, rifles slung over their shoulders.

  Fearful of their return, she remained inside the station until she heard soft footsteps on the wooden stairs outside.

  “Ilse-Renata?” She heard the worry in Prow’s questioning voice.

  “Here,” she said, stepping out into the sunshine with her bundle clutched to her chest.