Edelweiss

by Madge Swindells

  He sent back an eye-witness account about the arms and military instructors who had been smuggled into the free city. He wrote about the local Nazis who were acting as though Danzig was already German territory. He was on the spot to describe several Nazi attacks on Poles. By this time, Bill was being followed wherever he went and regularly pulled in by the Gestapo and questioned. Then he had a scoop following a tipoff. He managed to smuggle out photographs of Poles, employed in the shipyards, being arrested and deported to concentration camps inside Germany. On July 20, two thousand Nazi troops arrived from Germany and Bill was at the station to photograph them leaving the train.

  The Germans were ready to fight for Danzig, which was predominantly a German-populated city. The Poles, too, were mobilised to fight for the protection of their corridor to this Baltic port, their only access to the sea. Danzig must remain a Free City under League of Nations mandate, the British government stated. They, too, were mobilising, for if Poland was forced to take up arms to maintain the status quo in Danzig, Britain was bound by a treaty to go to their assistance. As Bill returned to Berlin, Europe was trembling on the lip of war.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  The moment Marietta saw Taube, fear and shame flooded through her. It was the strangest feeling: butterflies fluttered in her stomach, there was a gurgling in her bowels, and her mouth felt as dry as a desert. Why? Why should the sight of Taube leaning against the doorframe hit her so badly? Over fifty fugitives had passed through her home recently. But Taube wasn’t a fugitive. She was a friend of Bill’s.

  ‘You,’ they both whispered, as one.

  ‘Come in,’ Marietta said. ‘Are you alone?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said simply.

  Marietta shut the door. ‘I’ll warm up the soup,’ she said, filled with a sense of unreality.

  Taube sat in the kitchen on a stool and gazed at the table fixedly. There were streaks of white in her hair, Marietta noticed. Taut lines had appeared around her lips and her eyes were bloodshot and swollen. She looked old, and tired and very shocked. She was so pale that Marietta guessed that most of her time had been spent hiding in attics and cupboards.

  ‘I wish I could say something cheerful, like only another four stops along the way, but I don’t know anything about the chain, only my small part.’

  Taube stared at her, all her fear and the longing shining from her eyes. ‘Is Bill still in Germany?’

  ‘Yes. He always asks if you’ve been through yet, but of course we know there must be other chains.’

  ‘There’s a job waiting for me in America with Bill’s uncle,’ Taube said. ‘A good salary, an apartment, a new life . . . I have a letter of appointment with my papers.’

  She looked so wistful. She might have been a child talking about fairyland. Intuitively, Marietta realised that Taube did not expect to reach America.

  ‘I’m sure it won’t be long,’ she said as forcibly as she could.

  Ingrid came in and stopped short. ‘Taube,’ she exclaimed. She made a big fuss of her, and went to fetch a scarf and gloves for her to wear. Taube was looking awkward, so Marietta shot Ingrid a warning glance.

  Ingrid flashed them a smile. ‘I’m just going out to buy some cigarettes,’ she said.

  ‘I wish you would stop smoking. It’s so common,’ Marietta grumbled as she passed a plate of soup to Taube.

  ‘Oh, don’t lecture me all the time.’ Ingrid flounced out of the room, closing the door loudly behind her.

  Once outside, Ingrid shuddered and stopped short. She turned abruptly and retraced her footsteps. Then she turned back to the road. Eventually she broke into a run. Reaching the café, she asked to use the telephone and dialled Hugo’s private number.

  ‘Now,’ she said when she heard his voice. ‘It’s now. She’s there.’

  Leaving the café, she walked rapidly away from the area. She would wait until the girls were asleep before returning to the flat.

  *

  Marietta woke with a sense of urgency. Had the alarm gone off? She flicked her torch at the clock and saw that it was only 3.45 a.m. The alarm was set for 4 a.m. She might as well get up, but she lay for a few minutes huddled in the security of her warm bed. There seemed to be an icy hand clutching at her heart. She tried to ignore her fears and summon her courage. ‘Marietta, you’re being ridiculous,’ she murmured. During the past six months she had sheltered so many people on the run and delivered them safely to the next link in the escape chain. They had all been kind, helpful and courteous, despite their fears. Now she was hostess to someone she liked so much . . . ‘That’s all it is,’ she murmured. ‘I’m feeling over-protective and responsible to Bill.’

  When the telephone rang, she reached out with a sense of fatalism, almost as if she had been expecting the call, the sense of doom she had been fighting off for so long folded implacably around her.

  ‘Hello . . .’

  ‘They’re here . . . save yourself . . . no time . . .’ The line went dead. Marietta sat in shock, clutching the receiver. ‘Hello . . . Hello . . .’ she said. Then she realised how stupid she was being and replaced the receiver. Whose voice was it? That hoarse whisper had revealed nothing of the caller’s identity. She shivered and climbed out of bed. There was a soft knock on her bedroom door.

  ‘Yes.’

  It was Andrea. ‘I heard the ’phone,’ she said.

  ‘Something’s wrong. Someone said: “They’re here . . . save yourself.” I don’t know who it could be. One of the students perhaps . . . or the next link in the chain. Get dressed quickly. We’ll leave in five minutes. It was a warning . . . from someone.’

  Pulling on her blouse and skirt and grabbing a jersey, Marietta ran down the corridor to Taube’s room. ‘Taube, hurry. I had a call warning us . . . it might have been one of the students. I don’t know. I’m taking you to the next stop on the chain, if it’s safe. Please . . . hurry . . . Andrea,’ she called out. ‘Make sure Ingrid is safe.’

  Andrea was already dressed. She looked calm and reassuring. ‘Let me go instead of you, or better still, we’ll stick together.’

  ‘No. It’s my turn. We must keep to our routine. We’ve already decided that it’s stupid to go together.’

  ‘Then hurry. I’ll call Louis . . . just in case.’

  Marietta raced to the car with Taube close behind. What could she do if the wholesaler had been arrested? She had the address of another safe house for an emergency. She would go there. If only she had someone to turn to for help, but Pastor Perwe had been recalled to Sweden for two weeks. Moments later they were speeding towards the city.

  The wholesaler lived in a semi-industrial area of central Munich in a flat above his store. There were no street lights and in the pitch darkness she almost drove slap-bang into three black cars drawn along the curb.

  ‘Oh my God . . .’ she croaked, recognising the Gestapo livery. She swerved and sped past. In her rear-view mirror she saw the wholesaler being dragged into his car by two plain-clothes agents, his feet trailing uselessly behind him. His wife stood at the door in a state of shock, her children clutched around her. Marietta turned her head for a better view.

  ‘Look out,’ Taube called. Marietta wrenched the wheel round, avoiding a lamppost by inches. She struggled to pull herself together. ‘Which way . . . which way . . .,’ she muttered.

  *

  Andrea was falling into a state of fatalistic calm. No one had answered the telephone at Louis’ house, although Andrea had let it ring for over five minutes. She knew without any doubt that Louis had been arrested. Despite her anguish, she was thinking clearly. She must get Ingrid to safety. She must get out into the park so that she could hide, and somehow warn Marietta not to come back here.

  Ingrid was taking forever. ‘For God’s sake, come now.’ Andrea stalked into Ingrid’s room. Unbelievably, Ingrid was applying mascara.

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake!’ She grabbed Ingrid’s arm and pulled her along the passage, only to stop, rooted to the floor, at the soun
d of screeching brakes as cars screeched to a halt outside. They were too late. But there was the window . . .

  Everything seemed to be happening at once. She heard running footsteps as she forced her bedroom window wide open. Batons were beating against the door. ‘Open up,’ voices bellowed.

  Andrea caught hold of Ingrid and heaved her through the window. ‘Get out. Be quick. Run for the trees.’

  Ingrid was shaking and ashen-faced. ‘Oh, Andrea! Dearest Andrea! I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Save your breath! Run!’ Ingrid was in shock, Andrea decided as she scrambled after her. She could hear the Gestapo trying to break down the door. It was a strong door and it was resisting them. Andrea mumbled a prayer of thanks. The two girls scrambled out of the window and up the bank of flowers as they heard the door burst open.

  ‘Run for it.’

  Ingrid sat on a stone and watched Andrea race across the grass towards the trees. She wouldn’t follow. What was the point since the park was surrounded? What would they do to Andrea and Marietta, and poor Louis? She walked around to the front door and went inside. She wondered why she was crying as a Gestapo agent took her arm.

  ‘Get in the car please, Princess Ingrid,’ he said.

  *

  The drive was long and nerve-racking. Twice Marietta thought she recognised the same car following them, but afterwards she decided that it was just nerves. The emergency safe house was the presbytery of the Church of St Annes, in a pleasant village halfway to Ebersberg. She passed a row of small cottages and leafy gardens behind low wooden fences. Reaching the church at last, she drove past it to the end of the road, then back again. There were no suspicious cars, no lights, no barking dogs. It all seemed normal.

  ‘Someone might have talked, Taube,’ she said. ‘They might be in there waiting for us. There’s no point in both of us walking into a trap. You have money. If I don’t return within twenty minutes, try and get to the Cardinal at Munich and ask for shelter until the Pastor returns from Sweden. Tell him what happened.’ They were passing a small park with swings and a roundabout. ‘Hide somewhere near here,’ she said, trying to keep her voice calm. ‘I’ll come back and sit on a swing and wait for you to find me . . . do you understand?’

  Taube caught hold of her as she left the car, her eyes glittering feverishly. ‘Don’t go,’ she begged. ‘I’ll go. Please . . .’

  ‘I have my instructions, Taube. I must follow the plan.’ She pulled her arm away. Taube closed the car door. She turned and waved and tried to smile, but she looked completely lost. ‘Good luck,’ she called softly.

  Marietta drove on and parked outside the church. It was very still and quiet. Well, that was natural, wasn’t it? It was only 6 a.m. and still dark. Her footsteps echoed loudly as she walked up the crazy paving. She picked up the knocker . . . it was poised to descend when the door swung open swiftly. She looked into eyes of blue, like pools, she thought, in an albino face. A fist slammed into her jaw. As she crumpled at the knees she felt someone dragging her inside, but she was too dazed to feel much fear. ‘Where is she? Where did you leave her? Talk, bitch!’ A blast of pain hit her knee cap and then her elbow. Electric shocks? She gazed at the stick. Yes, she could see the cord. They were wrenching off her clothes. ‘Run, Taube, run . . . I don’t know how long I will be able to stand this.’ She heard a shot ring out in the street outside. Mercifully, she passed out seconds later.

  *

  It was 9 a.m. the following morning when the Count walked into Gestapo headquarters in Berlin. He demanded to see Colonel von Hesse, but the Colonel was out of town, he was told. The Count had to fill in a form, making an application in triplicate, stating his reason for wanting to see Hugo. He wrote: ‘Personal . . . family affairs.’

  ‘Leave your address,’ they said. ‘You will be contacted if he wants to see you.’

  Defeated by the system, the Count spent his time pacing his office, filled with foreboding and despair.

  For the next few days, Bill and the Count tried every possible source for news of the girls and Louis, who had also disappeared. No one could help them. People disappeared without a trace, it was a nightly occurrence. At the end of the week the Count returned to Vienna and Bill continued his lonely vigil, contacting the Courts, the police, the concentration camps and prison officers for news of Marie.

  In Vienna, the Count’s days passed in a blur of misery. He was tense and tired all day, but he lay sleepless at night. He would take a sleeping pill and drop off for an hour, only to dream of interrogation chambers and hear Marietta screaming . . . or Andrea . . . or Ingrid . . . or Louis. Nightly, he wandered around the empty corridors of the palace, wondering where his children were. Were they hurting badly? How much were they suffering? Were they still alive?

  *

  On the morning of July 13, the Count received a terse note from Gestapo headquarters in Vienna, ordering him to be there at ten the following morning. He had hardly entered the intimidating building when he came face to face with Hugo.

  ‘Dear Father! We meet again. Could it be that you want something?’ He hustled his stepfather into his office and slammed the door.

  ‘I’ve come to ask for help. Let them out, Hugo,’ the Count said softly. ‘Louis is your brother, and Andrea is his fiancée. As for Ingrid . . . you were always fond of her. Marietta is a fine person. You never really knew her, she was so young when . . .’

  ‘When you turned me out.’

  ‘Hugo, I’m at the end of my resources. I just don’t know what to do. Help them, for God’s sake.’ The Count leaned forward, his elbows on the desk, too exhausted to plead any further. Looking up at his stepson, the Count saw a quick smile play over his lips and realised that he was enjoying the scene. He wanted to see him beg. Very well, he would beg. He forced himself upright.

  ‘You’re big enough to do this, Hugo. Only you can get them freed.’

  Hugo raised one hand for silence. ‘I’m doing my best for the family. We were ordered to arrest all the Edelweiss students. A special People’s Court was convened and they were all sentenced to ten years each.’

  ‘No!’ The Count felt dizzy and sick.

  ‘I think I’ve managed to get Louis released. He’s to be transferred to a punishment battalion in the German army. He’ll be an ordinary private, but later, if he joins the Party, he’ll be able to take a commission.’

  ‘And Andrea?’ Count Frederick whispered.

  ‘She’s been deported. Tell Louis he owes me a favour or two . . . if you ever see him. I put her down as Volksdeutsche. They’re much in favour with the Führer right now.’

  The Count’s mouth was dry with apprehension. ‘Ingrid?’

  ‘Bad news, I’m afraid . . . there’s no trace of her . . . some foul-up with the paperwork. Perhaps she didn’t give her right name. When I find her I’ll try to get her deported, too. That’s about the best I can promise.’

  ‘You mean Ingrid is lost somewhere inside one of your terrible camps? She might be dead?’

  ‘She knew the risks she was taking. They all knew.’

  The sight of stepfather brought to his knees by the plight of his family went a long way towards soothing Hugo’s ego.

  ‘And Marietta?’

  ‘Ah, so you’ve left your little pet until the last.’ Hugo licked his lips in pleasurable anticipation. ‘She’s in prison in Munich awaiting trial. Apart from her activities in the subversive Edelweiss movement, she was also caught red-handed, helping Jews to escape from the country. She was with Taube Bloomberg, who used to be Roth’s secretary. Miss Bloomberg was shot and killed while trying to evade arrest. There’s nothing I can do to help Marietta, it’s out of my hands. I’ll keep a close eye on her case and let you know what her sentence is.’ His final sentence sounded like an afterthought.

  The Count went white. He stood up shakily, ignoring Hugo’s outstretched hand as he left the room.

  Hugo watched the broken figure shuffle away. ‘I did warn you,’ he thought. ‘I told you where the powe
r would be. But you were too bloody arrogant to believe me.’

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Ingrid gazed anxiously into the mirror. She looked pale and emaciated. She smoothed her hair back with a trembling hand. Lately her stomach was always churning with anxiety. What was going on? Abruptly, she crumpled on her bed and burst into tears. She could ring the bell. If she did that her so-called companion would come rushing in, full of false sentiment and soothing words. ‘Don’t cause us trouble, dear,’ the woman would say, as she always did. ‘We are all obeying orders, as you must. Colonel von Hesse will be here soon. He will explain everything. Be patient. It’s part of his plan.’

  ‘His Machiavellian plan,’ Ingrid thought. She had been hidden away here for three months, and Hugo seemed intent on starving her to death. Ingrid knew that she was in prison. Her guards, who insisted that they were not her guards, but her friends, kept explaining that she was being confined for her own safety. Her meagre diet was for a very good reason. ‘Why? What’s going on?’ she asked repeatedly. It was mid-summer and she longed to go out in the sun, but this was not allowed. She sighed and took a book to read in the library. Gazing through the window she watched the clouds chasing each other across the azure sky, birds were flying free and happy in the garden. Lucky birds.

  Dusk came, another day lost, and Ingrid felt a deep depression sinking into her. Then she heard footsteps coming along the passage. She didn’t have to turn to know whose firm tread it was. Hugo had come at last.

  He was out of uniform. In his white shirt, and grey flannel trousers, he looked a picture of health and virility. His skin was glowing with well-being, and his eyes were wide and lustrous. ‘You’ve been fencing.’ she said. ‘And you won.’

  ‘You’re very observant,’ he said. ‘That’s good.’

  ‘Why are you keeping me here? I want to go home.’

  ‘Home?’ he queried. ‘Why do you think you have a home?’

  She shrugged, sullen and uneasy.