BERLIN

by Paul Grant

  ‘I’ll explain later,’ Maria said. She turned to Klaus. ‘I’ll come to you.’ She smiled. Klaus felt a strange excitement in his stomach. Ever since Maria had regained consciousness he’d been like a child, almost helpless.

  ‘We’ll get everything sorted out,’ she said.

  CHAPTER 25

  JUNE 1953, EAST BERLIN

  Hans Erdmann had felt sick when he had seen the file.

  He didn’t know Paul Hauser, the man. He didn’t really know what he’d done apart from organise meetings about a protest. It wasn’t much. In Hans’ eyes not enough to put a man in prison, certainly not to kill him. He wasn’t sure how his death had occurred, only that he’d delivered him to the torture rooms in the ‘U-Boot’ and after that he disappeared, confirmed dead by his file. His gut instinct had been to get out. He’d never wanted to leave his usual work in the first place; it had only been after being volunteered by Müller did he end up there.

  Hans had been back to see Müller at headquarters and requested to be sent back to the KVP. His reaction had shocked Hans, telling him he had to carry out his ‘duties’ and any sudden transfer would be viewed ‘embarrassing’ to the organisation. He felt depressed after the meeting with Müller and craved a drink. He called Bernie to talk to him. He didn’t tell him the full details of what had happened at the prison, but Bernie could tell his friend wasn’t happy about something. He suggested meeting up with one of their friends, Alexei Spirov, who Bernie had heard was in Berlin. Hans thought this would do him good to get out and away from the prison for a while, and so he arranged to meet Alexei for dinner.

  Hans had met Alexei Spirov at a Soviet cultural evening in Leipzig soon after they’d returned from Russia. He didn’t quite know what Alexei’s job was, only that he spent a lot of time in Berlin, and was often at the Soviet Embassy. He was a genial type of person to whom both he and Bernie had been drawn. Hans felt comfortable in his company, and more to the point, felt he could trust him.

  The Ganymede was a small restaurant behind Friedrichstrasse station, on the other side of the Spree. Alexei was already seated at the table when Hans arrived. The place was half full, and Alexei had a table separated from the other diners.

  ‘Good to see you, Hans.’ He was greeted by a bear hug, from the chunky, yet short, Alexei. His red cheeks shone as he beamed a smile.

  ‘Let’s sit.’

  The waiter left them and Alexei poured two generous slugs of vodka.

  ‘To our health, and if not to that, then to more vodka!’

  Hans hesitated, realising it would be the first time he’d taken spirits since his time in Leipzig. In the end, he threw back the contents, feeling it burn as it descended his insides.

  Alexei went to pour another, but Hans stopped him this time. ‘Just beer for me, Alexei.’

  There was a disappointment in Alexei’s voice. ‘They send you to Berlin and you turn all serious on me.’

  ‘Maybe an evening with you and a bottle of vodka will cheer me up.’

  ‘You need cheering up?’

  Hans held up his hand. ‘It’s a long story. Let’s order, we can talk about it later.’

  They spent a pleasant evening catching up and enjoying the wine more than the food. Hans had a goulash and Alexei a veal schnitzel. Hans talked about his problems in Leipzig and his move to Berlin. Alexei had been at the funeral, but had not seen him since that time.

  ‘So how is the KVP treating you? You don’t look as happy as I thought you might be?’ Alexei asked, as he swilled his wine around his glass.

  ‘Müller saw fit to volunteer my services to State Security.’

  Alexei tipped his head on one side. ‘Good career move in these times.’

  ‘Maybe, but I don’t particularly enjoy Hohenschönhausen.’

  Alexei laughed hard. ‘I could see that might not be your kind of thing. You know I knew Major Smaroda. He was the first kommandant of that place.’ He pursed his lips. ‘He was a tough one.’

  Hans nodded. ‘Well, I prefer to be out in the open rather than stuck there.’

  ‘I imagine you must be quite busy there at the moment.’

  Hans nodded. ‘I am told much more than before.’

  ‘And with the goings-on in the city… it will get busier.’

  Despite the alcohol, Hans still felt slightly wary. He knew Alexei well. They’d shared things in the past which indicated a mutual trust. However, sharing all what he’d learned at the prison was still a risk.

  In the end, Alexei made things easy for him. They didn’t need to talk about the details for him to understand the depth of Hans’ concern.

  ‘If it makes you feel any better you cannot change places like that. They will always exist in our world.’ Alexei’s eyes were locked on Hans now, willing him to grasp the minutiae of his meaning.

  ‘I am sure you’re right, but I’d rather not be the one who has to implement the policy,’ Hans said, feeling harsh, even selfish as he did.

  ‘Did you talk to Müller about it?’

  Hans shook his head. ‘He told me it would be embarrassing to remove me at this stage.’

  Alexei laughed. ‘That sounds like him all over.’

  Alexei topped up Hans’ glass with more of the Hungarian white wine. ‘You know it’s possible I could help.’

  Hans wasn’t entirely surprised. ‘You could do that?’

  ‘Possibly.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s not always easy to organise things; you Germans can be quite stubborn.’

  Hans laughed.

  ‘I am sure I could help, Hans, but let’s be clear; knowing the people who can organise these things, they often ask for a favour in return.’ Alexei’s smile was genuine, if slightly knowing.

  ‘Now I might be able to smooth things with them, but it might just be they come back to you for the favour.’

  Hans swallowed some wine. He wondered what he could possibly do to help them. Yet if it meant he was out of that dreadful place and back where he belonged, he felt willing to take the chance.

  ‘What do you think, Hans?’

  CHAPTER 26

  JUNE 1953, EAST BERLIN

  Klaus Schultz didn’t have too much time to reflect on things. He should have known it would be like that; he’d been a teenager once. What he hadn’t banked on was his daughter being quite so perceptive. Unsurprisingly, it had been slightly awkward at first. She seemed reticent and shy, but quite soon, she’d linked his arm and they walked together, father and daughter, like he never believed he would have been able to do.

  ‘Why did the Russians keep you prisoner for so long?’ Eva was still coming to terms with the fact.

  Klaus had seen the posters and slogans for the Young Pioneers, Pioneers and the Youth Organisations plastered all over the area. He knew everybody, but especially the children, would be subjected to the regime’s propaganda. He could understand why she may have had doubts.

  ‘Sometimes it doesn’t suit governments to tell the people everything it does in their name,’ Klaus said through gritted teeth.

  Eva sniggered slightly and threw a glance over her shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, despite what they tell us, we know what the Russians are really like.’

  Klaus looked at his daughter wondering if she really did. After the emotion of before, his stomach was dictating again. ‘Are you hungry?’

  ‘Not really, but we can go to a café. You should eat. We have time. Ulrich won’t finish for at least a couple of hours. He works on Stalinallee, so it’s not far.’

  ‘Stalinallee?’ It was Klaus’ turn to sound incredulous.

  ‘The new apartments for the workers. Ulrich is a bricklayer on the site.’

  Klaus felt himself glow with pride. ‘A bricklayer?’

  She nodded and smiled at him. ‘Just like you.’

  They found a place to eat and Klaus downed a stew and dumplings, although once finished, his stomach was telling him he had eaten it too fast.

  Now he was sitting opposite her, he was able to focus on his daughter
completely. He was struck by her physical resemblance to Maria. He shouldn’t have been surprised, but he was seeing her close up for the first time. Klaus wondered what she was thinking behind those sharp eyes. She was watching his every move and he couldn’t help shaking the feeling she didn’t quite believe his story. He pushed those thoughts from his mind. There would be so many things to talk through, to get used to, new bridges to build and others to rebuild. He hadn’t quite grasped exactly what it would be like.

  ‘So, Ulrich’s a builder like his dad; what does Eva want to do for a job?’

  She looked at him seemingly slightly put out by the question. ‘I’m going to be a doctor.’

  There appeared to be no room for doubt and Klaus seemed to have been told in no uncertain terms.

  ‘That’s very admirable, Eva. You will need to work hard.’

  ‘Naturally.’

  There was an awkward silence for a second.

  ‘Why did they release you now?’ Eva asked, not giving up.

  ‘I believe it was an amnesty due to the death of Stalin.’

  She raised her chin slightly.

  ‘Have you noticed any changes here since he died?’ Klaus asked, curious himself.

  Eva threw a glance over her shoulder, then said, ‘If you’ve finished lunch, perhaps it’s better if we talk as we walk.’

  Klaus looked around the café. There were only three other people in the place other than the proprietor. If thirteen-year-olds had learned to be so guarded, Klaus figured he’d better follow suit.

  Outside, Eva felt able to continue. ‘In answer to your question, not much has changed. If anything, things are harder. Uli will tell you all about the increased norms, and there’s never enough food in the shops, not in the state-run shops at least.’

  Reuter had told Klaus about some of the unrest and shortages in the Soviet zone, not only in Berlin.

  ‘I don’t remember it changing much since the war,’ Eva said thoughtfully.

  ‘Has it all been bad?’

  She shrugged. ‘Probably better to ask Mum or Ulrich. They’ve only just started to build things in the last couple of years. Most of the streets are still full of rubble.’

  ‘We Germans weren’t exactly kind to the rest of Europe, especially in the East,’ Klaus said. He felt something like guilt when he did. Eva looked at him for a moment, then quickly averted her gaze.

  ‘So, he’s a builder then?’

  ‘It’s a big building project. He’s working on the South building at the moment.’

  Klaus slowed a little. ‘Forgive me for saying, but it seemed you were arguing with Ulrich before.’

  Eva’s face hardened somewhat. ‘Ursula came to the apartment.’

  ‘Ursula?’

  ‘Ulrich’s girlfriend. He’s preoccupied with something.’

  ‘Another girl?’

  ‘I doubt it. He’s mad on her, unfortunately.’ She stopped herself, seemingly worried she’d said too much. ‘Anyway, they’ve been protesting against the targets. I suspect that’s why he’s hardly been at home or forever in a daydream when he has.’

  Klaus knew she was concerned, even though it was voiced more in anger than worry. He thought for a moment, then looked over his shoulder. ‘I would have thought protest wouldn’t be too welcome in these parts.’

  Eva laughed. ‘You’re catching on, Papa.’

  They walked on down Frankfurter Allee and over the bridge which crossed the railway lines. Klaus was starting to feel more comfortable and Eva seemed happy in his company. It was only a beginning, he knew that, but it made him feel good.

  ‘I can’t believe you’re actually here,’ Eva said. She turned to him. ‘What actually happened after Stalingrad? They said you had all perished, not that Mum believed it.’

  Klaus sighed. He started to tell the story, the bare facts, not all the details. There were some things he would never tell his daughter and anyway, he wasn’t ready to relive it. Klaus knew Eva had difficulties accepting the scale of the lies and cover-up.

  ‘I just can’t believe they left you to die… so many men.’

  He shrugged, ‘They were hard times for many people, not only us.’

  ‘Mama always suspected they were lying. Then the letter proved it, even though it was two years old by the time we received it.’ Eva stopped walking. ‘She never gave up believing, Papa.’

  Klaus wanted to ask a question about what had happened after the war, but stopped himself. It was wrong to ask his daughter about it, and in some ways he was comfortable in ignorance a little while longer. He could see he was being selfish, but he knew his mind couldn’t handle more. He preferred to see it as self-preservation.

  They reached the Frankfurter Tor, where the new building project started. At the entrance to the project site, there were huge Industriebau boards naming all the districts of Berlin.

  ‘See,’ Eva said, not without a hint of pride, ‘All the hours that workers from each district have contributed are displayed.’

  ‘Work hours?’

  She nodded. ‘Free work hours provided by all the various organisations in Berlin.’

  ‘Volunteers?’ Klaus felt the cynic in him rising. For him, it was the classic Soviet strategy; coerce people to provide work hours, then shame the others who have not yet done so. He smiled grimly.

  He turned away, eager to get to Ulrich.

  ‘So where exactly is Ulrich working?’

  ‘Further down, towards Strausberger Platz. Come on, he’ll be out soon,’ she said.

  Klaus could feel the return of that impulsive excitement. He couldn’t believe he was so close to his son. It was a crazy thing. He couldn’t really take in the architecture. It wasn’t unpleasant, in fact in grandeur and scale it was quite impressive, even though it was still a work in progress, with masses of scaffolding covering the facades.

  Closer to Strausberger Platz, the building was in full flow. Bogies and cranes lifted bricks and other supplies onto the scaffolding. Klaus was starting to feel at home: the smells, the noises. He could hear laughter and joking among the men. The old spirit of Berlin seemed closer now, like the one he knew in his working life before the Army.

  Suddenly a siren sounded. Men started to down their tools and pack things away. One or two had clearly anticipated things; Klaus could hear the knocking of the bricks and the slushing of water on the inside of the nearest mixer. The trickle of men leaving the building site became a constant stream. Klaus wondered how many men actually worked there and started to worry they might miss Ulrich.

  Eva had elevated herself, her foot wedged on the lath of a pallet turned on its side. Her eyes were scanning the men as they passed.

  Then she shouted, ‘Bernhard, Bernhard!’

  A man with a beard waved and the man next to him started to tease him. He brushed him off with a few choice words. As he got closer, Eva hopped down from her perch.

  ‘Where is he, Bernhard?’

  ‘He’s on his way down. He was still packing up as I left,’ he said.

  ‘Okay. Thanks.’

  The man nodded warily at Klaus.

  Klaus could feel the excitement in the pit of his stomach. It was coupled with a woozy feeling in his head. His ears were pounding, every sound amplified, the expectation almost too much to bear. He’d regretted not shouting out to Ulrich in the courtyard, but it had all happened so fast. Now the reunion he’d dreamed of through the long days of despair in the Gulags was upon him, and it was much quicker than he could have anticipated.

  Eva was back on the pallet. The flow of men had stemmed somewhat. The remaining men were clearly the stragglers, and he still wondered if Ulrich had actually left by another exit.

  ‘Uli!’ Eva shouted, waving wildly with her free hand, the other clinging to the edge of the pallet.

  Then Klaus saw him.

  Eva jumped down and ran to him. He was walking with another man in animated conversation. They were twenty metres away. He saw Ulrich lift up his sister in a big bear hug. She
looked awkward for a moment as he put her down. She said something to him and his head whipped round in Klaus’ direction. Ulrich’s eyes focused on him.

  Klaus stood stock still. Now it felt like it was just Ulrich and him. Ulrich started to walk towards him, slowly at first, like he was sizing Klaus up. Could it be true? Could it be real? His son was within five metres of him now. Klaus could see him clearly, young, full of strength and vitality: a son to be proud of. Then, something somewhere told Ulrich it was his father. Perhaps how a person holds themselves, you sense it, your own flesh and blood. His work bag dropped from his shoulder and he ran the remaining distance. Ulrich lifted him off the ground, just like Klaus used to do with him.

  ‘It’s really you, it’s really you,’ he shouted.

  The breath was crushed from Klaus’ lungs as he spun him round. Klaus spluttered slightly, unable to say anything. He didn’t need to. His satisfaction was complete. He was finally home.

  ***

  They had stood for more than half an hour in amongst the stacks of concrete blocks and the now silent mortar mixers. The site had cleared and only Ulrich, his father and Eva remained. The outpouring of emotion Ulrich had experienced had barely subsided. He wondered what more could happen in his world. The last week had been one of ups and downs, revelations, spying and here, standing before him, the biggest bombshell of all.

  His father looked worn and thin, but in many ways he had stood up to the test of time, still a powerful man, even if he wasn’t quite the size Ulrich remembered.

  Ulrich smiled. ‘I feel like that day when you turned up at Horch’s and surprised me in the queue.’ He laughed at the memory. ‘You gave Ina Stinnes a piece of your mind.’

  His father laughed. ‘Yeah, well she deserved it.’ He looked up at the partially completed building. ‘So, this is what you’re doing, just like your old dad?’

  ‘Yes, this is the second year here now, even if they don’t want to pay us properly.’

  ‘I heard something about that.’ His father glanced at Eva, who smiled shyly, seemingly overawed by their reunion.