Fire and Steel, Volume 2

by Gerald N. Lund

  “It’s all right, Anatoly. They would have killed Fritzie if he hadn’t told them. What about Liliya and the children?”

  “They weren’t here. Liliya talked about coming back yesterday, but Fritzie said no. And thank the good Lord for that.” He looked away. “I had gone to my granddaughter’s house in the Charlottenburg district for Sunday dinner, so I wasn’t at my home. But they broke in and completely trashed my apartment.”

  “Good thing for you. Don’t go back there. Not until we’re sure this is over.”

  Anatoly turned to the smoking hulk behind them. His face twisted with grief. “Look at it, Hans. Our life’s work. Gone.”

  “Is it insured?”

  “Yes, but in these days, who knows what we’ll get out of it?”

  “You’re alive,” Hans said grimly. “There’s that, at least.”

  Finally, the old man’s head lifted. “I have to get back to hospital. They think Fritzie’s got a ruptured spleen. They’re operating on him now. I just came back to make sure the fire was out. The fire brigade left just a few minutes ago.” Then he had another thought. “Can I give you a ride back to the hotel?”

  Hans pointed without looking. “I have a taxi.”

  “Do you have money?” He pulled out a few bills and thrust them at Hans.

  “No, Anatoly. I have a little.”

  “Take it, please. Fritzie would want you to have it.”

  He did, seeing at least two more twenty-mark notes. “Thank you, Anatoly.”

  “Go pay the taxi. I’ll take you back.”

  “No. You get back to the hospital. I’ll try to come see Fritzie. Maybe tomorrow.”

  “He would like that. He’s at the Charité Hospital on the campus of the University of Berlin.”

  Hans nodded. He was tiring fast. “I know where that is. Tell the family how sorry I am.”

  Anatoly was peering at him. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes. Go. I’m leaving now too. I’ve seen quite enough.”

  As Hans slid into the taxi and shut the door, his ribs seized up and he had to grind his teeth together to stop himself from screaming out. “Back to the hotel, please,” he said to the cabbie.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Then he had an idea. He had to get something more for the pain. “Is there an Apotheke nearby?” Then quickly, “Never mind,” he said. Aspirin was like spitting on a forest fire. “What about a liquor store?”

  “There’s one about three blocks from here, sir.”

  He fished in his pocket and pulled out all the bills he had and handed them up across the seat. “Take out your fare and a tip, and then I need you to go in and spend the rest on whatever you think will dull the pain the most.”

  “Bourbon works well for me, sir.”

  “Bourbon it is, then. Just hurry.”

  January 14, 1919, 7:15 a.m.—Fromme home, Pasewalk

  Emilee Fromme carefully shut the door behind her and listened for a moment. The house was completely quiet. She removed her coat, scarf, and nurse’s cap and hung them on hooks behind the door, slipped off her shoes, and then tiptoed down the hallway. To her surprise, there was light coming out from beneath the kitchen door. And she smelled eggs cooking. And something else that took her by surprise—there was a rich smell of bacon in the air.

  Easing the door open, she slipped in and closed it softly behind her. “Guten Morgen, Mutti.”

  Elfriede Fromme turned in surprise and then smiled warmly. “Guten Morgen, Emmy.”

  Moving over to her mother, Emilee leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. “You shouldn’t be up so early, Mutti. You need your sleep.”

  “And you need to eat, Emmy. Besides, I can never sleep past six or six-thirty anymore.”

  Emilee moved around so she was standing beside her mother. There were two frying pans on the stove. In the first, she was scrambling eggs. In the other, half a dozen strips of bacon were crackling pleasantly.

  Emilee picked up the fork that was beside the mixing bowl and speared the piece of bacon that looked the most done. “Bacon, Mama? Really?” She held it up, blew on it for a moment, and gingerly put it into her mouth. Her eyes closed in pure pleasure. “Oh, Mama. That tastes so good. Where in the world did you find bacon?”

  She reached for another piece, but her mother slapped playfully at her hand. “Sit down. It will be ready in a moment.”

  Emilee did as she was told, sitting at the table where three places were set. “Really, Mutti. Where did you get bacon? We haven’t seen that for weeks and weeks.”

  Elfriede glanced over her shoulder. “Ernst brought it home last night.”

  “Oh? So he’s back, finally.”

  “He got back about half an hour after you left for work. There is a new restaurant opening in Neubrandenburg this weekend. He went with Christoff to deliver whatever meat he was able to beg and borrow, stopping at a couple of farms on the way. One of the farmers gave them three pounds of bacon.” She turned again, smiling now. “After debating about it about five or ten seconds, they decided that the restaurant’s needs were less than our needs. So Christoff took half, and Ernst got the other half in payment for helping him.”

  “Wonderful. Hurry, please. The smell is driving me quite mad.”

  “That’s not all. Christoff asked Ernst if he wanted to work with him full time.”

  Emilee clapped her hands. “In truth, Mutti? That’s great news.”

  “Yes. Ernst was so elated. He couldn’t stop talking about it.”

  “I’ll go up and congratulate him.” She started to get up, but her mother shook her head. “Ernst left more than an hour ago. Christoff has found another farmer out in the village of Trebenow who is offering to sell them a hog, a heifer, and two sheep. Christoff didn’t want to take a chance that another buyer would come along with a better offer before they got there.”

  “My goodness. That is a find.”

  “Ja, ja! It is wonderful. When they get the animals back to Pasewalk, Ernst will help Christoff butcher them. He’s going to start him on kind of an apprenticeship. See how he does with it.”

  “Ernst a butcher? He could do a lot worse than that.”

  Her mother moved the two frying pans off the stove and brought one over to the table. She dished a healthy serving of eggs onto Emilee’s plate.

  “I’ll get the bacon,” Emilee said, getting up. “Wouldn’t want it to get cold.” She then looked toward the hallway. “Do you want me to get Heinz-Albert?”

  “I’m not sure he’s up yet,” her mother answered. “He’ll come out when he’s ready.” She waited for Emilee to finish and sit down and then folded her hands together. “I’ll say grace.”

  Emilee bowed her head as she clasped her hands together and closed her eyes.

  “Holy Father, full of grace,” her mother began. “We thank you for the bounties that are set before us this day. We thank you for the beauties of the earth and for your goodness unto your children. We thank you for this new employment that Ernst has found and pray that you will watch over him and Christoff as they are out on these snowy roads. Bless the Fatherland, O Father, in this time of upheaval and strife, that we may find our way to peace.”

  She was silent for a moment and then added, “We also ask you, Father, to watch over Hans Eckhardt and his family. May they too receive of your grace and mercy. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

  “Amen.” Emilee nodded at her mother. “Thank you, Mutti. I suppose he didn’t call last night?”

  Her mother slowly shook her head. “But, Emmy, it’s only been three days since he was here.”

  “I know,” she said, picking up her fork. “But he told me he would call. Will you wake me up precisely at three, Mama? I want to get to the telephone exchange before it closes.”

  Her mother nodded, not pointing out that the telephone exchange was open until nine. “I’m sure he’s fine, Emmy, but I will wake you.” Then she smiled. “Would it be all right if Heinz-Albert went with you? He loves to go on walks with you.”


  “Of course, Mama,” Emilee said, trying to keep the worry out of her voice.

  4:30 p.m.

  Her mother was watching for them out the front window and held the door open as Heinz-Albert darted inside, gave his mother a quick kiss, tossed his coat in a corner, and went upstairs to his room. Elfriede, or Friede, as everyone called her, picked up her son’s coat and hung it up, watching her daughter out of the corner of her eye.

  Seeing that, Emilee shook her head. “No luck.”

  “He wasn’t at the hotel?”

  “I don’t know. The number he gave me isn’t working.” When she finished hanging her things up, they went into the kitchen together and sat down at the table. “He also gave me the phone number at the restaurant where he works. He asked me not to call it except in the case of an emergency because he didn’t want to get in trouble with his boss, but . . .” She was chewing nervously on her lower lip. “But I did anyway.”

  “And what happened?” her mother asked.

  “Nothing. The operator said that number was not available either.” Emilee was staring at her hands.

  “So what are you going to do?”

  “What can I do?” she cried. “I called his parents. They’ve heard nothing either. His mother is sick with worry. I have this bad feeling, Mutti. Like something is wrong. Where could he be?”

  “I don’t know, Emmy, but—”

  Emilee pushed her chair back and abruptly stood up. “I’m going to go talk to Onkel Artur.”

  Her mother reared back a little. “Really? What can he do?”

  Emilee bent down and kissed her mother on the forehead. “I don’t know, but if I leave now, I can catch him before he’s off work.”

  5:10 p.m.—Pasewalk Military Hospital, Pasewalk

  Dr. Artur Schnebling was not really Emilee’s uncle. She had just always called him that. Actually he was her mother’s cousin, though they had been more like brother and sister growing up. When Emilee was born, Friede had asked Artur if he would be Emilee’s godfather. When Emilee’s father died, Artur had taken over some of his roles, watching over the whole family as well as Emilee. From the day of her birth, he had been there for every birthday, bringing a gift that she always treasured. When she got married, he would be the one to give her away.

  Now, as she waited in the reception room outside his office, she had to smile. Many in the hospital thought of him as this stern, unbending administrator, strict in his adherence to rules and standards. New staff, especially nurses, were often terrified of him, fearing they might lose their jobs if they didn’t meet his exacting standards.

  Only a few of her closest friends knew that their hospital administrator was Emilee’s godfather and was actually such a softy that she could get him to do just about anything she really wanted. But, as her mother often reminded her, that was a special trust, not to be abused. Now, one knee bouncing nervously as she waited, she wondered if she was about to violate that trust.

  “Nurse Fromme?”

  She looked up as his receptionist appeared. “Yes?”

  “Dr. Schnebling will see you now.”

  Once seated, she waited for him to speak first. He studied her for a moment and then sat back and asked, “What is it, Emilee?”

  It poured out in a rush of words. She told him about Hans’s visit over the weekend and how they had ended becoming informally engaged.

  “Das ist gut. Good news for you.” Then he added with a smile. “And better news for him.”

  “Thank you, Onkel, but . . .” She rushed on, telling him about her attempts to call Hans. “I know that there might be some simple explanation, but I can’t shake this awful feeling. I really think something is wrong.”

  Schnebling sat back, making a steeple with his fingers—a typical pose when he was thinking. “And what do you propose to do?”

  “I want to go down to Berlin,” she said. “I want to try and find him.”

  His eyelids narrowed a little. “Have you read the papers?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Things are in great turmoil in the capital right now, Emmy. They’ve called for a general strike. The newly formed Communist Party of Germany is vowing to back the workers. They’re predicting there will be hundreds of thousands of people in the streets. They say that the leftist parties have already seized some government facilities. I’m guessing they’ve got the main telephone exchange and that’s why the phones aren’t working.”

  “But that’s downtown. They said the main rally will be in the plaza around the Brandenburg Gate and around the government buildings. Hans’s hotel is out away from that. He told me it’s not that far from the Ostbahnhof.”

  He exhaled slowly. That was a point worth noting. The East Train Station, where the trains from Pasewalk came in, was some distance from the city center. “I still don’t like it.”

  “Please, Onkel Artur. I’m not just being emotional. Something’s wrong. I can feel it.”

  He was looking past her now at some blank spot on the wall. She knew that she had said enough. Now he had to work it out in his mind. But since her hands were in her lap where he couldn’t see them, she crossed her fingers on both hands.

  After a time, his eyes raised to meet hers. “Does your mother know that you’re here?”

  “Yes.”

  “Does she know what you’re planning?”

  “Uh . . . I think she’s guessed why I’m here with you.”

  He gave a barely perceptible nod. “You have to tell her everything, Emmy. And if she doesn’t agree, then you have to give me your word that you’ll accept it.”

  “I will.” Hans had really charmed her mother, spending quite a bit of time with her while he was in Pasewalk. She liked him a lot. And knowing how excited her mother was about the engagement, Emilee was pretty sure she could bring her around to about anything.

  “Then. . . .” Dr. Schnebling sat forward, still deep in thought. Emilee waited, half holding her breath.

  Finally he began to speak, and his first words took her aback. “I want you to wear your uniform.”

  “My uniform? Why?”

  “Because you are a nurse in the Imperial German Army. And you were a primary caregiver for Sergeant Hans Otto Eckhardt while he was convalescing here. I will write a letter attesting to that fact. We don’t want the officials wondering why a single nurse is wandering around Berlin.”

  “Yes. That’s good.”

  The doctor reached down to a bottom drawer, opened it, and retrieved a small, pocket-sized card. He placed it on the desk in front of him, took out his pen, and signed it with a grand flourish. Then he pushed it across to her.

  “A railway pass?” she asked as she looked at it.

  “Yes. As a military nurse, you are entitled to that.” He retrieved another one and prepared to sign that as well. “And one more thing.”

  “What?”

  “I want Ernst to go with you.”

  Her face fell.

  Seeing that, his mouth pressed into a tight line. “I mean it, Emmy. I don’t want you going there alone. Especially not now. I’ll pay for his ticket.”

  Her head was down, and she couldn’t bear to look at him. “Ernst got a job yesterday with that butcher who let us borrow his truck. He left early this morning to go out and get some livestock from a farmer.”

  Schnebling grunted, frowning deeply. Emilee wanted to jump up, lean over the desk, grab him, and shake him. But she did none of that. She knew him too well. If he didn’t come to this on his own, it was not going to work.

  He sat back again, took in another breath, and then sighed. “Do I have your word that if you mother doesn’t approve, you won’t go?”

  “Yes, Onkel Artur.”

  “And that you’ll stay away from anything that looks like it could be dangerous?”

  “Yes, Onkel Artur.”

  “And that if there is even a hint of danger, you’ll come back immediately? And that you’ll call me every night and report in?”r />
  “Yes, but . . .” She should have said this earlier. “It means I’ll have to miss my shifts for a few nights.”

  He brushed that aside with the wave of his hand. “With the war over, we’re way down in our patient count anyway. I’ll tell everyone that you’ve taken a leave without pay.”

  Another long sigh. “And, Emmy, I don’t want you going tonight.”

  “But Onkel Artur, I—”

  His look cut her off. “It’s in the morning or not at all. You can take the first train.”

  She got to her feet. “I will. Oh, thank you, Onkel Artur. Thank you.”

  He got up too and then reached into his back pocket and withdrew his wallet.

  “No. I don’t need your money. Just saying I can go is all I need.”

  He came around the desk, handed her several bills, and then took her in his arms and kissed her on the forehead. “You always need money, my dear. Take my word for it. Go with God, Emmy. And remember. Every night you call me. You hear me?”

  January 14, 1919, 10:10 p.m.—Hotel Lindenberg, Prenzlauer Berg District, Berlin

  About the only thing that Hans remembered as his eyes fluttered open was not to move.

  He wasn’t sure where he was, except that he sensed he was in a bed.

  He wasn’t sure what time it was, but he could tell that the light coming through the window was lamplight, not daylight.

  And he wasn’t sure why his head felt like it was four times bigger than normal and like someone inside it was using his brain as a bass drum.

  But he was keenly aware that if he moved even a fraction of an inch, it hurt. A lot.

  So he closed his eyes again and listened, taking slow, deep breaths. He heard a wagon rattle by in the street below, and far away he heard a train whistle. He could tell it was not from one of the main railway locomotives. Probably a local city line.

  And with that he remembered he was still in Berlin.