Fire and Steel, Volume 2

by Gerald N. Lund

  “Idling roughly?”

  “Yes. All of that. And then it just died.”

  “Well, as soon as you said that, I knew that condensation was the most likely suspect. It’s a common problem, especially in the winter time, and especially near large bodies of water where there is a lot of humidity in the air.”

  “Oh? Well, we qualify there. It’s December and we are in a port city.”

  “Exactly. What happens is, water doesn’t mix with gasoline at all, and since it’s heavier than the fuel, if there is any condensation present, the water sinks to the bottom and gets into the fuel lines. And since, as you might guess, water doesn’t burn very well, the engine starts to malfunction. It doesn’t take much to give you problems. But rubbing alcohol does mix with water.”

  “And alcohol is flammable.”

  “Yes, it is. So you pour a bottle of rubbing alcohol in the tank. It mixes with the water enough so that it will burn it off. It’s not particularly good for the engine, and we don’t recommend it as a standard procedure, but we always carried a bottle of it with us during the war. Actually, it’s also a simple way to defrost your windshield. Very handy stuff to have around.”

  Emilee turned and looked at her brother again. “Well, you can see how enormously relieved he is. I think this is the first he’s really slept in three days.”

  “To be honest, I was pretty relieved when it actually worked too.”

  Emilee laid a hand on Hans’s arm. “Your coming up here means more to us—to me—than I can possibly express, Hans. I was sick with worry about Mama and Heinz-Albert. Ernst was getting ulcers about his friend. And all the time I was not able to connect with you and tell you what was going on. It was awful. And then, all of a sudden, like a miracle from heaven, there you were, standing on our doorstep. And ten minutes later the engine is fixed and we’re loading up and ready to go.”

  “Wow. That’s the first time I’ve ever been called a miracle. And, actually, it was only about seven minutes, not ten.”

  She slugged him a third time on the arm, only this time hard. “Stop it. I’m trying to be serious here.”

  “Right. Serious.”

  Now her voice was heavy with emotion. “And then, you running that road block. I. . . .”

  “Don’t, Emilee. Don’t think about it. Let’s talk about something else.”

  “Yes!” It was said with great fervency.

  The headlights from a passing vehicle illuminated the cab long enough for her to see his somewhat goofy, lopsided smile. “What?” she asked, poking him.

  “I’m ready to present you my bill for service rendered!”

  “Which is?”

  “Dinner with your family on Sunday. I mean, you surely wouldn’t send a poor starving boy back to Berlin without him first meeting your mother and your other brother, would you?”

  She ducked her head, suddenly shy. “The bill is already paid. Not because you asked, but because I already promised Mama that I would introduce you to her and Heinz-Albert at the first opportunity that came up.”

  “You did?” Hans was grinning that grin again.

  “I did.” And with that she slipped her arm through his and laid her head against his shoulder. “And now, I think I’ll try to get some sleep. You must be exhausted too. Can you last an hour before I spell you off?”

  “I can last until dawn. You sleep as long as you can.” Then Hans gave Emilee a quizzical look. “You really can drive this?”

  “Yes.” She shot him a dirty look. “Why do you find that so hard to believe?”

  “Because you’re too short to see over the wheel.”

  This time she smacked him on the knee.

  “Ow! Man, how are you going to explain all of these bruises to your mother?” Then before she could answer, he poked her with his elbow. “So can you see over the wheel?”

  She laughed, and it was a sound that delighted him. “To be perfectly honest, Ernst brought a pillow for me to sit on that puts me high enough.”

  “Ah, I thought so.”

  “I knew that Ernst couldn’t drive all the way to Königsberg and back without stopping, so I made him teach me how to drive.” Again she leaned her head against him, and this time she closed her eyes. “Promise me that you’ll wake me in an hour.”

  “No. But I will promise that I’ll wake you if I get sleepy. Deal?”

  “Deal,” she murmured. And two minutes later, she was gone.

  4:35 a.m.

  Emilee woke with a start and looked around in confusion. Then she remembered where she was and sat up. She stared out the windshield for a moment, absently running her fingers through her hair, and finally turned to Hans. “How far have we come?”

  “We passed through Walcz about ten minutes ago. I figure we’re a little more than halfway.”

  She groaned. “Is that all? How long was I asleep?”

  “Not quite an hour. I hoped you’d sleep longer.”

  “How are you doing? Aren’t you exhausted?”

  “I’m ready to get out and stretch my legs,” he admitted. “But no. During the war, we often drove all night so as not to be seen by the Frenchies in their airplanes. I’m used to it.”

  Emilee turned her head the other way. “Has Ernst stirred at all?”

  “No. You may want to check his pulse.”

  She laughed. “I’m glad. He was so tired.” She leaned against Hans again. After another minute, he nudged her. “What are you thinking?”

  “About Sunday.”

  “And?”

  “Do you really have to leave right after we have dinner?”

  “Yes. It’s been a month since I was released from the hospital, and here I am, no closer to getting my discharge money than I was when I left the hospital. I have got to get back to the Ministry and get that check so I can get on with my life. I’m going to be first in line.”

  “And do what? What are you thinking you’ll do?”

  “Well, I’m seriously considering blowing up the Ministry of War. Then, if I have any explosives left, maybe I’ll go after the Parliament Building. See if I can knock off at least part of that gang of November criminals.”

  Emilee didn’t laugh. “I hope you don’t joke about that in public.”

  “Who’s joking?” Then Hans sighed. “I don’t know, Emilee. Three thousand marks isn’t going to last very long if I don’t get a job soon. Then, I guess I’ve got to figure out what I want to do with my life.”

  “What about the University of Berlin?”

  He shrugged. “I’ll check it out, but I don’t have much hope. I assume it reopens on Monday too.”

  “And you’ll go there as soon as you’re done with the Ministry?”

  Hans chuckled. “You’re like a bulldog, did you know that? You never give up, do you?”

  “Not on you, I don’t,” was her soft reply.

  He gave her a sharp look but let it pass. “But don’t get your hopes up, Emilee. Remember, I’m the one who walked away from that scholarship. I never even wrote them to explain why. I was a Dummkopf, an eighteen-year-old kid who turned his back on the opportunity of a lifetime so I could join the army and save the Fatherland.” He hooted bitterly. “How’s that for a laugh?”

  “But that doesn’t mean you lost the opportunity.”

  “It’s been four years.” Irritation made his voice sharper. “Of course I’ve lost it.”

  “I don’t think so. There was an article in the paper here a week or so ago saying that soldiers who were attending universities before the war were eligible to return without having to take all of the exams again.”

  “Yes. My mother showed that to me too.”

  “So?”

  “‘I wasn’t attending the university, Emilee. I was only accepted, not enrolled.”

  Sensing his mood, she said nothing more.

  “Look, I appreciate your concern, and I know that you’re trying to help, but—”

  “But what?” she asked quietly.

  He said
nothing.

  “But what, Hans?”

  “Well, I’m sort of a ‘stand-on-your-own’ kind of a guy. So,” he shrugged, “I appreciate your concern, but I don’t need you to plan out my life for me.”

  “I see.”

  The way she said it made him turn to look at her. “You see what?”

  She folded her arms, laid her head back, and closed her eyes. He let another two or three miles pass, waiting for her to answer, but she didn’t. When the occasional car would approach from the other direction and light up her face momentarily, he saw the pinch around her mouth and knew that she was still awake. And not happy.

  “Go ahead,” he grumbled. “Say it. I’m a jerk. I know that.”

  Emilee sat up again. Careful not to awaken Ernst, she turned as much as she could so she faced Hans. “Let me ask you a question, Mr. Stand-Alone-Guy.” Her voice was clipped and cool. “Just exactly what are your intentions here?”

  “Intentions? I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “Yes you are. This is your third trip to Pasewalk since your release. Now you’ve come almost four hundred miles out of your way to help us.” Her voice went soft. “For which I shall be forever grateful. I really mean that. What you did was. . . .”

  “I’m glad that it worked out as it did.”

  “But, I assume you’re not job hunting in Pasewalk. So, just what are your intentions?”

  “With you, you mean?”

  “No,” she scoffed. “With Nurse Rhinehart.”

  “Who?”

  “Never mind. I’m assuming all of these visits, and all of your efforts to get my address and phone number, were not driven by some deep longing to meet my mother and brothers.”

  Her dry sarcasm irked him. He clamped his mouth shut and said nothing.

  Emilee suddenly shook her head. “You know what? Never mind. You don’t have to answer that.”

  “No, I want to. I was just—”

  She took a quick breath. “I’m not angry, Hans. I just realized that having this conversation at this particular moment is crazy. It’s almost five o’clock in the morning. We’ve been up all night. And that’s after two very long and frustrating weeks. Longer than that for you. So let’s just shelf it for now.”

  “All right.”

  “Why don’t we stop for breakfast at the next town? I think we all need a break from this.”

  “From the driving or from me?” he shot back, trying to make it sound like he was teasing her, though he was not.

  “You know what? I will say one more thing.”

  “Go ahead.” Hans forced a smile. “Do I need to hunker down for this one?”

  “This is not funny, Hans. Not in any way.”

  “Sorry. I’m just . . . never mind. Go ahead. Say it.”

  Emilee threw up her hands. “You’re right. Never mind.” And she closed her eyes again.

  Silence prevailed for another two or three minutes. By that point, Hans had worked out what he wanted to say. No, needed to say. For Emilee as well as for himself. So he started without preamble.

  “My plan is to go to Berlin and get my severance pay. I hope that takes me no more than an hour or so. Then I’m going to the University of Berlin to see where I stand with them.”

  Emilee sat up straighter, watching him closely.

  “And then, I am coming back to Pasewalk. And I plan to spend however long it takes to see if there is any possible chance that Sergeant Hans Otto Eckhardt and Nurse Emilee Fromme can work out their differences, stop sparring with one another, and. . . .”

  “And what?” She was staring at him, her eyes wide.

  “And see if this . . . this . . . this inability to get you out of my head means what I think it means.”

  “It’s Nurse Emilee Greta Fromme,” she whispered.

  He stared at her, not understanding.

  Her eyes were soft in the first light of the morning. “Well,” she retorted, “I just thought that if you know my full name, it will be even harder to get me out of your head.”

  “Ah.”

  “And that’s all you’ve got to say? Just, ‘ah’?”

  “That kind of says it all.”

  She smiled and took his hand, interlocking her fingers with his. “Yes, I think it does too.”

  Chapter Note

  Even today, isopropyl alcohol is touted as a quick, though not necessarily recommended, solution for water in gasoline (see https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N01DgXEboD4).

  January 6, 1919, 6:00 a.m.—Ministry of War, Mitte District, Berlin

  Hans wasn’t too alarmed when the long, dark shape of the Ministry loomed up out of the fog and no one seemed to be there. It was only 6:00 a.m. He had come this early determined to get card #1 and then get in and out as if he were on a guerrilla raid. He hoped he would be back at the train station and on his way to Pasewalk by ten o’clock.

  But of one thing Hans was sure: if he had to work with Frau Hessler, he would grit his teeth, paste on a big smile, and grovel at her feet if she required it. He would check his pride and his temper at the door and get out of there as quickly as possible.

  Hans glanced at the main doors as he approached. There wasn’t much light, but yes, he could see that the paper announcing the closure for the holidays was still there, taped to the glass. He angled to the right and chose a spot up against the building just a few steps away from the entrance, where the first man in line had been positioned both times he had come here before.

  Even though the temperature had softened a little, the fog had come in last night and was really heavy now. That always made it feel colder than it was. Knowing that he would have at least a two-hour wait, Hans had prepared himself much better than he had before.

  Yesterday, when he arrived at the train station, he went into the gift shop and bought himself a fur hat with two large ear flaps and a thermos bottle. And when he left the hotel this morning, he hid one of his two blankets under his overcoat. There was a sign in the hotel lobby saying that residents were forbidden to take towels, washcloths, or blankets from the hotel. But it wasn’t like they ever made up his room. And besides, the night clerk was a little scarecrow of a kid who barely dared look at Hans. As a last precaution, Hans had stopped at a tiny, hole-in-the-wall coffee shop and had them fill his jug with the strongest coffee they had.

  So now he settled in to wait. He uncapped the thermos, removed the cork, and took a tentative sip.

  Ouch! It was hot! Amazing! The coffee shop was nearly half an hour’s walk from here, but the coffee was still hot enough to burn his mouth. No wonder thermos bottles were in such high demand. Some engineer was making a fortune off of the simple idea to put an insulated bottle inside a bottle.

  Hans settled back and closed his eyes, thinking through the rest of the day, and his thoughts turned to Katya. The last time he had been with her, he had promised her that he would let her know whether things worked out with Emilee. After he had left Katya that night, he decided that the dinner was not the smartest thing he had ever done. And now he’d promised her that he would let her know about Emilee one way or the other. Trying not to think about his mother’s comments about holes in the dike and structural integrity, he decided that was not a promise he was going keep. At this point, things with Emilee were looking good. Not without their problems, but looking good. Which meant that Katya was out of his life, and seeing her wasn’t going to do much good for either one of them.

  Suddenly, he smacked his forehead with the heel of his hand. He was going to see her again. In about two hours. She would be behind her window waiting for him, trying not to smile too warmly at him. Oh well. There was nothing to be done about it. Maybe he could slip her a note and tell her that the “other woman” was working out for him.

  But then another thought came. Emilee was looking good, but it was not a done deal. Not by a long shot. So maybe it was a little premature to cut things off with Katya. Keep your options open, he thought, just in case. He did find her to be a very attracti
ve woman, and he really enjoyed being with her. The thought of seeing her again made him feel good. And part of that, he realized, was because Katya really liked him. Whether he went to the university or not. Whether he was employed or not. Whether he went south to see his family or not.

  Hans must have dozed off, because he came awake with a start as a motor car trundled past him, belching smoke and waking up the neighborhood. He looked around. Still no one. What time was it? With the fog he couldn’t be sure, but it felt like maybe ten or fifteen minutes had passed. Shifting his weight into a more comfortable position, he realized that he was cold. The frigid air had seeped through the blanket, through his overcoat, and through his uniform. He reached for the thermos, removed the cap, pulled out the cork, and filled the lid. He could feel the warmth as it went through his chest and into his stomach.

  Hans stiffened. The coffee was warm, but not hot enough to burn his tongue, as it had before. He took another sip and then swore softly as he looked around. Judging from the coffee, it had been more than ten or fifteen minutes since he’d fallen asleep. More like thirty. And still, no guard with numbered tickets. No lights on in the building. No soldiers joining him in the line. Finishing the rest of the coffee, he recapped the thermos, threw off his blanket, and lumbered to his feet. He walked to the nearest window and peered into the lobby of the Ministry. There was only one light on inside, but it was enough to show him that no one was there yet. And . . . he did a double take. The clock on the wall behind the information desk showed that it was 6:47. Could that be right? Had he slept for more than forty minutes?

  With a growing sense of bewilderment, Hans started back to see if the sign was still on the door. He stopped before he reached it. It was. So he headed back for his place, thoroughly puzzled now. So why wasn’t anyone else here by now? There should be a two-week backlog of men applying for their severance pay. Suddenly he stopped and whirled around as he realized that the sign hadn’t looked quite the same as before.

  In three strides he was to it. It was no longer posted on the door itself but on the large glass pane beside it. Before Hans even reached it, he saw that it was not the same notice. This one was half again as big as the other sign and covered with heavy black print. He moved in closer.