Opposite Sides (55 page)

“
Possibly.”
Hans was giving nothing away.

“
Come on,
Hansie. He said he has a friend who has connections with a
well-to-do family . . . and . . .” Axel edged around the table,
stepping his fingers lightly around the far corner. “He said you
have already met the young lady and . . .”

Hans found this annoying.
He was now angry with both his brothers: Renard for his
interference and now Axel for his curiosity. He did not want to
discuss it. Not yet. His answer to Axel was curt. He was
tired

“
I’m off to
bed! Another early start.” Hans picked up the empty glasses and
took them to the sink. “Good night, Axel.”

“
Is it true,
then?”

“
Good night.
Axel!”

“
Will I see
you in the morning, Hans?” Axel looked upset over the rejection he
had just received.

“
No. I have
things to do and I am leaving early so, good night, little
brother!”

Hans lay in bed thinking
about his life and the war; the happy domestic life Elisabeth could
offer him and the pressure for him to do his duty for his country.
He tossed and turned as his mind raced through the recurring images
he had seen on the Eastern Front. The area had become a horrible
playground for the young recruits who were learning how brutal laws
became bed-fellows with the offerings of war. Was their leader
using Germany’s youth as a pawn in his fantasy for hate and revenge
on all the peoples of Europe? Had they been feeding a hungry tiger
which, in turn, would devour them as well?

Hans heard the hall clock
strike two. He still had not dropped off to sleep. He was uncertain
of what he should, or could do. Kill or be killed was the only law
that governed men today; ordinary men who had, only a decade ago,
been shopkeepers, teachers and bankers; farm labourers, blacksmiths
and tool-makers. And now? To refuse orders, would mean instant
death. There was no way out of this hell. Fighting and slaughter
had become the fuel, greedily feeding upon the living until they,
too, succumbed to it’s ravenous appetite.

The newly promoted Major
Erwin Hans Resmel used up some of his leave by taking the S-Bahn
into the city centre. He found Berlin glitzy and glaring after what
he had got used to in the war-torn cities of Eastern Europe. The
traffic was still as busy, the people on the streets still filled
the cafés and restaurants and the large red-swastika flags lining
each side of Unter den Linden gave the city a colourful festive
appearance, and yet there was little gaiety or family atmosphere.
So many of the young men were absent and those he saw were mainly
middle-aged or elderly. There were uniformed men, like him but they
were not free but shackled like pawns to a monstrous machine that
neither slept nor cared. The young ones he saw were the girlfriends
and wives, the mothers hurrying their children along before the
Humpelmann came to claim. These were the young of the
Reich.

There were still enough
privileged people capable of popping countless bottles of bubbly.
They were the Party supporters, doing the entertainment rounds in
hot-pressed uniforms and chin-mounted iron crosses, conspicuously
accompanied by their richly dressed women companions with lavish
exotic fur heads and legs dangling front and back. These people
made sure city life was as exciting as before the war.

As Hans walked further,
he noticed several small clusters: young men, soldiers who had been
given leave, only to be re-indoctrinated with the propaganda, in
the hope it would strengthen their resolve, before being thrown
back to the fighting on the front lines. These voices were loud,
boisterous and drunk. They were many who lived their short lives to
the full, frequenting the pubs and whore houses or filling the many
of the cheeky musical shows that ran continually between one show
and the next.

The city was now a
foreign world for Hans: exuberant and bawdy, affluent and
prosperous, crowds mingling and jostling between canals and streets
that surrounded Berlin’s Mitte; some of those hoping to glimpse
their beloved Führer, if luck was on their side. Yet, even within
seemingly relaxed social engagements, war conversation was never
far below the surface. Ears strained, ready to pick up on any hints
of disloyalty, a betrayal of confidence that deceived the friend.
Hans hoped that Axel really did understand.

Axel was, so far safe. As
long as he did not re-new certain friendships from his student
days, his younger should not come to the notice of the Secret
Police. No call up papers, so that was good. Many new recruits were
being called up and sent to prop up the Eastern Front but how many
had any hope of returning home?

Uncle Karl never stopped
talking about Renard. He was becoming a bore. The Atlantic had
become Renard’s permanent home, either on or under the sea, or
resting in the northern French town where the submarine docks were.
He had written to tell everyone that he had his own command of one
of the most modern U-boats.

Neubrandenburg was far quieter than Berlin. The war was
remote here and life was more relaxed wihtin the walls of this
quaint Medieval town with its red brick gates and its old, historic
houses. No wonder that Herr Kohler spent his free weekends here
whenever he could get away from his Berlin office. They were the
perfect hosts, Herr and Frau Kohler, and Elisabeth delighted in
telling him all about her job with the girls in the
Bund deutscher Maedel.
She insisted he should accompany her one afternoon and watch
the girls go through their exercises of dance with music that was
becoming so popular with the young women of the
Reich
.

“
We are told
that we all need to keep our bodies strong and healthy if we are to
provide the Reich with strong baby boys.”

During the rest of the
week Herr Kohler insisted Hans join them each afternoon for a meal.
It would be to his benefit to engage in conversation with top army
officials who were invited to the Kohler house. It was a different
world from the one of the serving soldier. Hans discovered very
quickly that one did not discuss any of the realities of war, only
how wonderful the Führer’s new initiatives had been in bringing
happiness and health to the new children of the Reich.

Duty called and for
almost a month, he was away again. He missed Christmas except for
attending a midnight mass in one of the small stone churches near
to where he was stationed. When he met with Sturmbannführer Ott
again, he was quietly reminded of his other duty concerning
Elisabeth Kohler. And so he felt an obligation to devote all his
free time to accompanying the daughter of Herr Kohler to various
entertainment venues where they could be seen in each other’s
company.

The Kohler family was
well positioned in society. Herr Kohler ran an important business
from his city office. What he did was never said but he had been
given the position shortly after the Nazis had come to power.
Elisabeth had let it slip that it had something to do with Ott.
This man had a lot of influence and it did meant that Herr Kohler
would be forever in Sturmbannführer Ott’s debt.

Shortly after the second
week in January Hans and Elisabeth were married. It was a lavish
affair. Elisabeth arrived at the church in one of Ott’s large cars,
together with chauffeur and footman. Herr Kohler spared no expense
in demonstrating to the people of Neubrandenburg that his family
was now one of the most important families in the town. He paid to
have the main street leading to the church draped in flags and Ott
found a guard of honour to welcome and honour his daughter on her
wedding day. People opened their front doors and came out on to the
street as the highly polished limousine slowly drove past.
Elisabeth felt like an Empress and Herr Kohler was well satisfied
with the investment he had made.

Renard did manage to
attend the ceremony. Uncle Karl had pressed Hans into asking his
elder brother to be his best man, for Renard had already sent word
that he would be available on the wedding day. However, Renard did
not stay long. As soon as formalities were over, he excused himself
saying that the love of his life was waiting and her needs were
paramount. He was talking of his submarine, of course. Hans was
relieved to see him leave. Not to have a conversation with Renard
would be a relief for it was difficult to remain polite and
courteous once party, politics and duty were introduced.

Sturmbannführer Ott was an honoured guest. He saw to it
personally that the newly-weds received their national gift: a
leather-bound volume of
Mein
Kampf
.

“
Neither of
you will have an excuse for not reading our Führer’s words.” Ott
bowed his head forward and clicked his heels. “But we will permit
you to wait a little until after the love-making, my friends!
There’s little on that subject in here!” He held up the book and
swept it around his head so that everyone could see what a
beautiful copy it was. From every table there was stiff, subdued
laughter, the like that was forced to appease. Ott strutted between
the tables like a parading bull, grinning to tables left and right
until he reached the bridal one where he carefully placed the book
in front of the bride and groom. His voice reached every table in
the room and probably even beyond, for Ott wanted to make sure
everyone heard.

“
As every
good citizen on their wedding day, you and your beautiful new wife
should be honoured and proud to receive this book.
Mein Kampf.
This one has
been
signed by the
Führer
himself. Heil Hitler!” Ott
turned and faced the guests. His right arm extended in the Nazi
salute. “Heil Hitler!” He barked like a performing
sea-lion.

Immediately the entire
room stood to attention: guests as well as those serving the
wedding breakfast. Everyone raised their arm high into the
air.

“
Heil
Hitler!” The sound of voices in unison exploded around the room.
Ott turned to Hans and spoke with a low, deliberate
voice.

“
Look after
this book well, Major. It will guide you in your duty to the Führer
and to the Fatherland. Consider its message well.”He poured himself
a glass of champagne from the wedding table and held the fizzing
container high in the air. “A toast! To the bride and groom! Major
Erwin Resmel and his beautiful wife Elisabeth! Heil Hitler! Sieg
Heil!”

His new wife was
extremely happy. Elisabeth Karla Udele Kohler had found herself the
man who would father the sons she would bear for the Reich.
Sturmbannführer Ott was another who was well satisfied that
day.

Herr Kohler
had found the newly married couple a small house on the outskirts
of town Only eighteen days remained for Hans and Elisabeth to
organise themselves into married life. Hans thought Elisabeth
charming and very efficient but he could not love her as he had
loved Caroline. Maybe, in time, he could hope to find love again.
Maybe, in time, he could learn to cherish his new wife in the same
way he had cherished Caroline. But war had little time for love.
Duty had to came first. A man’s honour only came through success on
the battlefield and Elisabeth desperately wanted a hero of her own
to impress the girls and young women of the
Bund deutscher Maedel.
Love, honour
and obey; not only for her brave warrior husband but for her Reich
that would last a thousand years.

There was little time for
the newly-weds to get to know each other or to enjoy the trappings
of family life. As long as the new Mrs Resmel was satisfied with
her husband’s standing, together with her role as his wife, Hans
was content to let it be. Elisabeth’s National Socialist training
had been thorough for she knew exactly how to be an excellent war
bride.

The morning call from the
Tirpitzufer office broke the spell. The Abwehr had another
assignment and Hans would be given his new orders in a few days’
time.

The clock kept ticking
away the minutes of domestic happiness and the hour for departure
arrived. Duty called and duty had to be obeyed. Herr and Frau
Resmel both knew that. Elisabeth put her face against the thick
double-paned window and searched for the car she knew would arrive
on time. A large black Mercedes pulled up in the street below and
stopped directly outside their house.

“
I think that
must be your driver,” she said, straightening the curtain a moment
before turning to her husband. “I have put everything you need in
your suitcase, Erwin.”

“
You think of
everything,
mein Schatz
.” He gave her a peck on her cheek. Hans closed the lid and
lifted it off the bed. “It is a lot heavier. Goodness knows how you
managed to get everything in. Are you sure I need all these
things?”

“
I think you
do,” she said, curling up to his free arm. “We have standards to
keep now and my hero must be well prepared.” She looked at him and
laughed. “Mama insisted I buy you new things to wear. So
there.”

Elisabeth decided to
accompany her husband to the small military airport on the
outskirts of the town. It was a bleak, grey day with blanketing
cloud which hung ominous and low. Large spots of splattering rain
began falling as the driver opened the rear door of the black car
and opened a large umbrella. The Major began to climb out.
Elisabeth slid across the seat and made an effort to
follow.