On Desperate Ground (51 page)

* * *

Five days later, on April 23, 1945, 1
^st
Lieutenant Albert Kotzebue of the 69
^th
Infantry Division led a patrol of seven jeeps east of the Mulde River and made peaceful contact with the Russian 58
^th
Guards Infantry Division, at Torgau on the Elbe River. Germany surrendered to the Allied Forces on May 7, 1945.

EPILOG

23 April 1995

Torgau, Germany
 

Flags snapped in the sharp spring breeze as yet another speaker approached the podium on the platform overlooking the calm waters of the Elbe River. The morning festivities were about to conclude, and the audience was restless. They had been sitting for over an hour, and most were ready to move on. They were a mixed group, mostly elderly tourists and local Germans. There were other events to come, and it was close to the mid-day meal.

During the past year, there had been many observances marking the fiftieth anniversary of the Second World War, starting in Normandy and flowing east, following the campaign trail. It was only logical that the last of these occur here, along the Elbe River at the juncture of the meeting of Russian and American forces. It was, for all its historical importance, a small event. Many veterans and government officials had already made their pilgrimages to the beaches of Normandy, to Paris, the Battle of the Bulge, and other major commemorations. Like the men who had fought to this point, exhausted and wishing only to go home, those here now seemed eager to end the campaign.
 

There were representatives of the U.S. Army, including a band and a color guard. There was a Russian uniformed contingent present, but the Russian armed forces of the former Soviet Union had little interest in an event that, while it celebrated a victory, also markedly pointed out how far they had retreated since the fall of the Wall and the downfall of Communism. There were perfunctory speeches and a brief re-enactment of the meeting by soldiers in World War II-era uniforms.

The German government and armed forces were of course absent, having no interest in celebrating anything to do with Soviet domination so soon after the reunification of East and West Germany. The local population though, took full advantage of the tourism potential and had welcoming signs out in the town square, and organized other local events to persuade visitors to linger a few days longer. Torgau itself was not a tourist mecca, but the countryside was beautiful, and the attractions of the
Dübener Heide
were highlighted as a worthwhile destination.

The speaker concluded, and the U.S. Army band began their last number. A restless shifting began in the seats. Watching the audience from the back row, one man noted the stooped shoulders, bald heads and white hair arrayed in front of him.

There’s a lot of old men here
, thought Mack Mackenzie,
including me
.

He stood up slowly, putting his hand to his back to straighten up. He held onto the chair in front of him for a moment to steady himself. He smoothed back his thick white hair, put on his New York Yankees cap, and zipped up his jacket against the chill. His ruddy Irish skin was wrinkled, but he was proud of his full head of hair, and a trim and wiry body. He turned and walked slowly, in short steps. He really didn’t care what these fellows had to say. What did they know?

So what the hell are you doing here?
he asked himself.
You’re a seventy-six year-old widower, and you should be at home in New York, not looking for answers here. Or forgiveness, or God knows what.

He shook his head, as if disagreeing with himself. He really didn’t know why he came. He had not been back to Europe since the war, never had any desire to. Fifty years had passed since he had made a momentous decision here, with another man he had known only for a few hours. Since then, he had gone long periods of time without thinking of that day, but it always came back, sooner or later. He could see Dieter Neukirk as clearly as if he were standing in front of him now. He could see Elsa standing with a smoking Luger in her shaking hand, and he could still see Johann Faust’s eyes, looking at something that no one else could see, as the life ebbed out of him.

He realized he was weeping, and took out his handkerchief to blow his nose.
 

Damn! Why am I standing here bawling like a baby?
 

He stomped one foot in frustration, wishing he knew what to do now that he had gotten himself here. He had taken this trip on impulse, over the objections of his children and grandchildren. They had not wanted him traveling alone and he could have had their company if he wanted. He had wanted someone to come with him, but he was afraid to admit it. Afraid that he would have to explain something he had not talked to another human being about for fifty years. Afraid that if he did, they would think he was a monster. Afraid, as he looked to the last years of his life, that he really had been a monster, and would soon be called to account for it.
 

* * *

Dieter Neukirk sat holding his cane in front of him and as the last speaker went on and on, his head low and his eyelids heavy. The wind tousled his thinning silver hair, which still showed some traces of blond. He had gained a little weight over the years, and sat solidly in his chair, a respected, well-known local retired official. The
Burgermeister
had asked him to attend today, and he had agreed, although for his own private reasons, he would have anyway. Now, fighting off the desire for a quick nap as the speaker droned on, he wondered what had drawn him here. By the time the speaker finished, he had lost that battle, and it was only the first loud notes of the band that woke him, with a slight startle.

What foolishness this is
, thought Dieter. He frowned, and decided to leave before the crowds made movement difficult. Using his cane, he hoisted himself up with a wince and began shuffling down the aisle.
 

He saw the other man, about his age, and recognized another veteran immediately. He knew the old man was lost in a memory as he saw him blow his nose and wipe his eyes. He had seen it before, too many times, in other unguarded moments. As he neared him, he looked away so as not to intrude, but something nagged at him. The man was obviously an American by his dress, but he looked familiar, especially the eyes. He stopped and looked directly at him, his eyes searching for recognition.
 

Could it be?
 

Dieter could still see the face of the young American from fifty years ago quite clearly. He tried to imagine what the years would have done to that face. Before he could collect himself, he realized that he had been rudely staring, and that the American was returning his gaze. He felt embarrassed, and stammered, “Please excuse me, I thought…”

The other man cocked his head, as if to hear him better. He pointed a bony finger at Dieter.
 

“Is it you—Dieter, Dieter Neukirk?”

“
Mein Gott, ja
. Yes, Captain Mackenzie, Mack!”

“You remember me?” Mack asked stunned. By the look in Dieter’s eyes, he knew immediately that the German had never forgotten him either.

“Of course, of course,” Dieter said smiling as he grasped Mack with both hands. “Come, let’s walk away from this
quatsch
.”
 

Mack didn’t understand the term, but agreed with the tone. He followed Dieter.

They slowly walked along a gravel path that led along the river, leaving the park where the commemoration was being held. Here, it was quiet. Ducks swam in the water among the reeds at the riverbank, breaking the silence with occasional flurries of quacking and flapping. Dieter pointed his cane at a bench by the path, and they sat, gratefully. Dieter straightened his leg out, and Mack saw a slight wince as he did so.

“Arthritis?”

“No, I was shot in the leg. After the war. It was not serious at the time, but it bothers me more as I get older.”

“How did you manage to get shot after the war?” Mack was glad to have something else to talk about, even though he had so many things he wanted to ask.

“
Ach
, it is a long story. They made me a police inspector after the war. I didn’t want to, but there was little choice. This happened in 1949,” he said, tapping his leg.

“They? Do you mean the Russians?”

“Yes,” said Dieter resignedly. “The Communists, Russian and East German. They wanted anyone with Intelligence experience who was not a Nazi. I refused to work for the security police, so they made me a criminal inspector for this province.”

“So you stayed here, with Elsa?”

A smile played across Dieter’s face. “Yes, we stayed here. We always said any life together was a good life, even in East Germany. There were so many times during the war when we thought we would never live through it all. We were married two days after you left. She died six years ago. I still miss her.”

“I know. I know.”
 

Dieter looked at the wedding ring on Mack’s hand and felt the shared weariness of love lost. For a moment, each old man lingered in his own thoughts and memories.

“And what have you done for the past five decades, my friend?” Dieter said, breaking the silence.

“I was supposed to go into the legal profession. First a lawyer, then a judge, just like my father. But I disappointed him. I didn’t think I could sit in judgment of any man after what we—what I—did here. I joined the fire department, and retired an assistant chief.”

“You spent the rest of your life saving people,” Dieter said, holding Mack directly in his gaze.

“Yes. I think part of why I came here was to find someone who would understand that.”

“I must admit, I too came here hoping to see someone from back then,” Dieter said, shaking his head, heavy with sadness. “I never saw Jost or Benedikt again. I thought that if any of them were still alive, they might come today. Tell me, what happened to them and to your Lieutenant Rose?”

Mack was glad to be able to tell Dieter what he knew, smiling at the memory.

“Old Jost refused to leave Benedikt, who was in pretty rough shape. Rose had a bad broken leg, but was okay other than that. I got them to a field hospital, and the doctor wanted to treat Rose first. He said Benedikt didn’t stand much of a chance anyway with a fractured skull. Rose pulled out his .45 and told that doctor he wouldn’t have any chance at all if he didn’t treat that German right away.”
 

“What happened to them?”
 

“Benedikt pulled through. Rose surrendered his pistol to the M.P.s after the operation was over. The only reason he didn’t get court-martialed was that my boss showed up.”

“Someone fairly high up in Intelligence, yes?”

“Yes. I worked at SHAEF headquarters.”

Dieter raised an eyebrow in surprise and admiration. He now had many questions to ask, but first wanted to know more about his old comrades. Mack told him how they had kept Jost out of the POW camp by assigning him orderly duties at the hospital where Benedikt was recovering. His skull was badly fractured, and it took weeks to heal. After the surrender, Colonel Prescott helped Mack get papers allowing Jost to travel with Benedikt to Bavaria, back to his farm. Rose made the arrangements for them, and the night before they left, they all had drinks together. In broken English, German, and sign language, the four men promised to never speak of what had happened. To Mack’s knowledge, none ever had. That was the last time he saw any of them.
 

“The day after we left you, Colonel Prescott sent in a patrol to gather up dogtags from all our guys. There was a standing order for no American units to cross the Mulde for another five days while they cleaned that up. They hushed up the whole thing. Like it never happened.”

“I am glad to know, finally, that Jost got back to his farm. He was my
Feldwebel
since the start of the war. He was a fine man.”

“You were all fine men, Dieter, to work from the inside like that to stop Operation Gambit. Now you tell me, what happened to Hans, why was Elsa there, and whatever happened to the Germans in American uniforms?”

Dieter told him the story of Elsa and her work hiding Jews at Saint Ludwig’s Hospital, how Jost had helped her, and her arrest and rescue. That was why the Russians had never put him in a POW camp or shipped him back to Russia to die in a labor camp. They had awarded Elsa a medal as a “Hero of the Anti-Fascist Struggle”, and it would have been inconvenient for her husband to be a prisoner, so Dieter was left alone after the surrender. They had cared for Hans and kept him alive, nursing him for a week. When the Russians came, he disappeared into a POW camp and was never heard from again.

“Didn’t Benedikt tell you about what he ordered his men to do?” Dieter asked, in response to Mack’s question about the American-uniformed group.

“No.”

“When he left them with the tanks, he had them to go to Strauch, the commander of the unit in American uniforms, and order them to another location. Once they got them loaded on their trucks, they simply surrounded and disarmed them. They were less than forty men, so it wasn’t difficult. Most of them were happy to be relieved of their suicide mission, and melted into the countryside. A number of the paratroopers came by the castle on their way to surrender to the Americans, which was the last part of Benedikt’s orders.”