Authors: Susan Firman
Tags: #war, #love relationships, #love child, #social changes, #political and social
“
Renounce the
man. Tell me you hate the Hun!”
“
Why should
I? The threats you’re now making are no different from those made
by Hitler’s henchmen. I thought I had served my country to rid the
world of people like them. Hasn’t the war taught you anything at
all, Mr Grassfield?”
With his free arm, Mr
Grassfield was about to make a grab for her but at the moment he
raised his hand, another far stronger hand gripped his from behind
and held it firm.
“
What do you
think you are doing? Hit a woman, would you?
Schweinhund
is what I call such men
as you!”
On the other end of the
hand was Hans. Deep anger burnt in his eyes and his the muscles of
his face were taught.
“
Stand to
attention when I’m talking to you! I’m used to being
obeyed!”
Jan’s attacker was so
taken aback that he dropped almost every book and they clattered
and tumbled like loose coins around their feet. Mr Grassfield
turned his head and saw the face beside him. It had the presence of
a man who was used to giving orders and expected them to be obeyed.
Grassfield had only been a private and he had only taken orders
from others. His opponent stood squarely before him, looking
Grassfield firmly in the eye.
“
Well,
soldier? What have you to say for yourself?”
“
I, I was j .
. . just making a p . . . point,” he stammered in subdued
embarrassment.
“
Major! When
you address me. ‘Major.’ Do you understand?”
“
Private
Grassfield 2933456. Major!” The poor man had been so conditioned,
he snapped immediately to attention and was completely submissive
towards the officer.
“
Well,
Private, what have you to say for yourself?”
“
Sorry,
Major. I was only just going to say . . . ”
“
That it was
all a mistake?”
“
Yes, Major.
J . . . just a mistake. No harm meant, sir.”
Hans indicated with his
head for Jan to move away. She adjusted her glasses and ducked
behind her hero.
The ex-private clutched
his remaining few books hard against his chest. His bottom lip
began to quiver as he lowered his eyes. In his mind he had returned
to the strict discipline of the army and in his head he could still
hear the rattle of gunfire and the crashing boom of the big guns.
He grabbed at his ears to block out the din and his books clattered
on to the hard ground. It was enough to bring him back into the
present.
“
I don’t know
what came over me. It must be delayed shock, or something. I’ve
been through some bloody awful situations. I wish I knew how to
forget. But I can’t. You know what I mean?”
“
I know. But
I can’t tolerate those threats you’ve made towards Miss Turner and
should you even begin to carry out those threats of yours, I have
the knowledge and the ability to silence you
¨C
permanently. And nobody’d find
your body. Know what I mean, soldier?”
By this time the poor man
was visibly shaking. Private Grassfield was well aware of men who
were used to being obeyed. He had served under officers like this
in his own regiment and experience had taught him servility. The
private mumbled something incoherently and bent down to retrieve
his scattered books. Hans turned, grabbed Jan a little roughly and
conducted her well away from the scene.
“
Oh, Hans.
I’m so sorry.”
He smoothed her ruffled
hair, stroking her head as though she were a favourite
cat.
“
My poor
kitten. Are you sure you’re all right?”
“
No harm
done, thank you.” She looked determinedly at him and adjusted her
glasses. “I could have coped, you know.”
“
I am sure
you can.” he inclined his head in the direction of the crouched
figure still gathering books. “Who was that man,
anyhow?”
“
Mr
Grassfield. He’s only been here a week or two. Had a very hard time
in the war. Was captured in Italy and taken to a POW camp in
Poland. He was not treated well and he has been badly affected by
it. When he was released, he saw terrible things. Concentration
Camps, Hans. Do you know how horrific they were?”
“
Unfortunately, yes. It was one of the things we were told
about in the camp when the war ended.” Hans had been deeply shocked
at first and then distressed when the horrific pictures of the
labour and death camps had been shown to him. He never knew there
had been so many scattered throughout Hitler’s Third Reich. “I felt
sick to my stomach when I saw what had happened.”
“
Mr
Grassfield could not cope. The army had to invalid him home. He’s
still very disturbed by the experience. I can understand his
problems to some extent. I have seen shell shocked soldiers, the
mentally fatigued and men who have cried like babies because of
what had happened.”
“
Likewise,
Jan. But if Private Grassfield has battle related problems, he
shouldn’t be teaching.”
“
I agree but
we’ve lost so many good teachers because of the war so we are
grateful for those who can or still want to teach.” Jan took hold
of Hans’s arm. “I don’t think coming here was such a good idea,
after all,” she said. “What if there are others who feel just like
he does?”
“
Undoubtedly,
there will be some. People will be angry for some time. I saw the
damage our bombs did when the train travelled through London. I
wonder if my old flat is still standing. I have been made aware of
the damage done to your buildings. I’m so sorry it came to
that.”
“
I can’t
blame you for that, Hans. I know you did not vote for that madman
who got us into this mess.”
“
Thank you,
Jan. As long as we love each other, we’ll get through. Together, we
will manage.”
He kissed her gently on
her cheek, then took her arm and escorted her away from the school
grounds.
The next few days they
had together were wonderful. It was like being young again and all
the feelings he had had with Caroline returned. Yet, this was not
exactly the same. This time he felt a blossoming love that came
from a long and deep incubation and it was emerging like the
butterfly from its cocoon. There was also a deep admiration for Jan
and for what she had had to endure in her conviction to love him in
return. She had been prepared to carry out her duty and show her
loyalty to her country and at the same time be willing to express
her love for a man who had had the misfortune to be on the opposite
side. He thought she was a very brave young woman,
indeed.
They walked hand in hand
over the hilltop trails and drove to the beach, wandering over the
wide stretch of smooth, wet sand between the sloping pebble beach
and the ebbing tide. Gentle wavelets rippled around their ankles,
the shallow water warmed by the rays of the summer sun. Out to sea,
beyond the countless shimmering waves lay the continent. The
Channel separated the land just as it had themselves Now that Hans
must leave England again, this stretch of water would separate them
again and test their love further until the moment they could wrap
their arms around each other again and enjoy the final fulfilment
of their affections.
“
I’m sorry,”
Hans said as the final minutes of his leave arrived. “It’s
regulations. I’m not the free man I thought I was. I’m still under
military supervision until I return to Germany. But I will return.
I promise.”
“
If you
can’t, then I’ll come to you,” Jan added. “I’d come to the ends of
the earth, if that’s what it takes.”
“
I will be
back. Give me until the end of the year. If I’ve found nothing by
then, I’ll come back. We’ll marry . . . somewhere. Hopefully, in
England. I promise we will be together.”
He hugged her, feeling
her body melt into his, her breath becoming one breath with his as
their world enveloped them in a timeless embrace. But, for these
two lovers, nothing could be timeless, for the outside world
encroached upon them, wrenching them apart like a shuddering
’quake.
CHAPTER
24
Germany
Later that year, Erwin
Hans Resmel returned for the last and final time to the country he
had been prepared to lay down his life for. His heart was heavy at
having to leave Jan behind him but he knew that the separation
would only be for four months. He stared out of the train window as
the carriage rocked side to side, mesmerising him so that his
eyelids drooped and he fell into into a drowsy sleep. Outside, the
landscape rushed by, fields quietly preparing themselves for the
long winter rest, trying to forget the commotion of war. Hans
reopened his eyes. The train puffed towards the coast before
turning back on itself, snaking across the land on those lines that
were open. A sign: ‘No Time to Die!’ gave warning of a mine-field,
reminding people of the constant danger that still lay hidden
beneath the soil. His head rested on the back of the swaying seat,
broken buildings and mountains of bricks scattered in anger, as
village and small town passed before his eyes. No-one on the train
spoke. Each sat in their own personal space: staring, thinking,
numbed by what each saw beyond the dust-covered pane.
The train slowed to a
snail-like crawl as the engine and carriages clicked and clanged
over damaged points as they changed from one set of lines to
another. Hans noticed that large chunks of rail on the other line
were missing or twisted in contortive shapes. Slowly the wheels
squealed to a halt as the engine sighed, its breath of steam
hissing and whistling from jets near its wheels. Doors banged and
four armed American soldiers walked slowly from one end of the
carriage to the other, scanning each passenger in silence. Hans
heard the end door of the carriage shut. The waiting went on. Then,
ever so slowly, he felt the carriage shudder and felt the pull of
the locomotive once more. The train rattled on further only to come
once more to a shuddering halt with another squeal and hiss. More
doors banged. This time, five armed Soviet troops marched through
the carriage. The same as before, giving only a secondary glance to
its silent occupants. Fifteen minutes later the carriages began to
move again and as the train picked up speed, Hans could hear the
‘tatty-tat’ of the wheels as they ran over countless rail joints.
He guessed that they had just passed over some sort of border and
yet the landscape told him that they were still well within
Germany. They began to head due east.
As the train came closer
to Berlin, the increase in damage became more exaggerated: ugly,
gaping holes and mute, burnt out husks of houses that had once been
cared for and lived in. The city had been bombed and pounded, burnt
and pounded, and bombed again until there was nothing more to burn.
Only bricks, rubble and dust were left.
The train crept into the
city centre, past the destroyed park of the Tiergarten and stopped
just short of where a railway station should have been. Before the
war, all trains stopped at Friedrichstrasse but now that the city
was in ruins and many of the bridges destroyed or damaged, the
train stopped short of crossing the river. Hans heard the guard
bark out the order to vacate the train:
“
Alle
aussteigen
!
Alle
aussteigen
!
”
Hans pulled his suitcase
from the high shelf behind his head and made his way to one of the
exit doors where he stepped down onto the burnt, blackened ground.
Dust covered roads and footpaths, deadened footsteps of survivors
made them more like ghosts than the vibrant, busy people he had
remembered from his previous visits to Berlin. At this point he had
no idea where to begin searching for any clue for the whereabouts
or fate of little Siege. All the familiar things had disappeared or
been turned into grotesque, hideous shapes of their former selves.
The Kaiser-Wilhelm church with its interesting, almost fairy-tale
spires had been smashed yet those sorry remains still stood higher
than the few remaining damaged buildings and within a short
distance, the part of the Zoo which edged the canal remained
untouched, as unblemished as it had been the day he could remember
it as a child.
He walked, hoping to find
a tram that might be travelling in one of the directions he had
been familiar with, but such transport could not run within the
streets, so extensive was the city damage. The centre he had known,
just east of the Brandenburg Gate was almost unrecognisable as
building after building, palace after palace of what had been
Berlin’s Mitte lay smashed and ugly, silently standing in shocked
witness to what war could do. Yet, Hans realised that Berlin was
not alone: most of the major cities in Europe had suffered a
similar fate from one side or another. Warsaw had been flattened,
Stalingrad smashed, Hamburg and Dresden fire-bombed. All had
suffered. War chose no sides; everyone ended being a victims of its
ravenous appetite.
Hans managed to pick up a
tram in the direction of Grünewald where he found lodgings with the
mother of one of Elizabeth’s friends near the palace at
Charlottenburg. Most of the houses in this district were still
standing, although many had been badly damaged. Elizabeth had given
her husband Frau Mohr’s address during his last leave and told him
to contact the lady should anything go wrong. When Hans spoke to
Frau Mohr, he discovered that her husband had not yet come home
from the war. She told him that her husband had been drafted during
the last six months of the war and now was one of the thousands
captured in the east and the last she heard was that he had
probably been sent to Siberia. Hans said nothing but he didn’t hold
out much hope that she would ever see her husband again.