1503954692 (16 page)

‘I can manage,’ Johann said, forcing a smile. He supposed his morning medication was wearing off, because in truth every step now seemed to hurt more than the last.

As they followed the course of the pathway through the lush green parkland, neither spoke of the war again, perhaps just to help take their minds off it for a short time as they took in the beauty around them. When they arrived at the
Wiener Riesenrad
, they stopped outside the cinema that was adjacent to it, where the word ‘
KINO
’ was raised high above the building as though competing with the giant wheel for the passing tourists’ attention.

‘It’s quite magnificent,’ Johann said as they gazed up at the wheel and the wide gondolas that were slowly turning over the city.

His eyes fell to meet Ava’s again. His near fatal wounds had made him all too aware that his life could be over in an instant, and what then was it all for? He reached into his pocket and felt the ring box he’d kept beneath his hospital bed pillow whenever he was out of his uniform. He had come to feel that it somehow kept Ava close to him. At least, it carried the hope of being with her again.

And now he was.

He toyed with the box for several seconds, wondering if he asked her to marry him there and then what her answer would be. Would he spoil the perfect day if he offered it to her? Or would it lead to many more perfect days just like this? There was only one way Johann could know, and his courage did not fail him this time. He let his crutch fall aside as he dropped to one knee, fighting the pain in his leg as he bent it, and in his chest, which was throbbing with nervous joy. At first, Ava looked alarmed, as though she thought Johann had overdone things and had fallen down with fatigue, but then Johann reached towards her and took her hand in his, reassuring her.

He looked up into her eyes as the wheel turned behind him. He was oblivious to the attention he was getting from the passers by, and he ignored his pain as he pulled out the ring box and opened it with one hand, all the while holding Ava with the other. Then he held the ring up for her to see, and the stones sparkled in the sunlight and reflected in her eyes as she gazed upon them.

‘Ava . . .’ He paused to suppress a cough, his nerves having parched his throat. ‘Ava, would you do me the great honour of being my wife?’

Chapter Fifteen

Present day.

At Langner’s art gallery and auction house, Tayte and Jean had moved to the back of the gallery with Rudi Langner, and were now in a room full of Old Masters. Having just been told that Johann had proposed to Ava Bauer in 1941, Tayte was keen to know whether she had accepted.

‘So Johann got the girl?’

‘Yes, they married the same year,’ Rudi said. ‘As I mentioned earlier, it was quite a silver lining after my father was wounded. He could have been killed, of course, but had he not been evacuated from the Eastern Front, who knows whether he would have had the chance to propose?’

‘That’s very interesting,’ Tayte said. ‘Your father led us to believe that he and Volker fell out over Ava Bauer. Yet we now know that any contest between them over the girl had been won by the end of 1941, and in your father’s favour.’

‘There has to be more to it,’ Jean offered.

‘I suspect there is,’ Tayte said, thoughtfully, wondering whether Strobel had been able to let the matter go once Ava had married his best friend. He also began to wonder whether a child might have come from Johann’s and Ava’s marriage, but without access to the vital records he needed to see, he didn’t yet know how he was going to find that out. He hoped the Kaufmanns would soon be able to help out there. ‘Do you know what became of Ava?’ he asked Rudi. ‘You must have been curious when you found out about her.’

‘I was very curious,’ Rudi said. ‘But my father would never tell me how or why they separated, or whether she had died during the war or lived on. You’d have to ask him about that yourselves, I’m afraid.’

‘I hope we get the opportunity.’

‘Yes, so do I,’ Rudi said with a slight smile to hide the emotion that had crept into his voice at the idea that his father was unlikely to live much longer.

‘You’re very close to your father, aren’t you?’ Jean said.

‘Yes, very much so. He’s a selfless, hard-working man, and please don’t suppose that his wealth is driven by vanity or greed. He donates a great deal to many charities, especially those connected with the holocaust. He’s always been someone to look up to. I’m very proud of him.’

Jean offered Rudi a kindly smile. ‘And I’m sure he’s very proud of you, too.’

‘Did your father marry again after the war?’ Tayte asked. He’d been wondering why Johann Langner had chosen to adopt rather than father a child of his own.

‘No,’ Rudi said. ‘Perhaps once was enough for him. Or maybe he never got over Ava Bauer. But as I said, he didn’t like to talk about it and I didn’t like to push him. I could see how upset it made him.’

Tayte wondered then whether the reason Johann Langner didn’t like to talk about Ava was related to the terrible thing he’d said Strobel had done. ‘Did your father ever talk about Volker Strobel?’

‘He mentioned him a few times, mostly from the years when they were growing up as friends before the war. He has many stories to tell about his time in the Hitler Youth, but not so many from the years during the war—at least, not many that he’s told me. While we were talking about Ava and how he came to ask her to marry him, he did tell me that Volker Strobel invited him to the concentration camp at Dachau soon after the wedding. Apparently, he had a special wedding gift for my father. When I heard what it was, I was as shocked as my father, I can tell you.’

Chapter Sixteen

Dachau, Germany. December 1941.

Johann Langner and Ava Bauer were married on a bright and cold Saturday morning, just as soon as Johann’s recovery was deemed complete and he had been given his release papers. The wedding had been a quiet and somewhat hurried affair because Johann had been allowed no more than three weeks’ leave to see his family before he had to return to the
Ostfront
, and because both Ava and Johann had agreed that they didn’t want their families and friends to go to any fuss over them when times were so difficult.

Neither had minded in the least, and they cared little for the manner of the proceedings. They simply wanted to be husband and wife, so that it could be recorded for all time that they had once loved each other, and although neither of them had openly said it, Johann knew that to wait any longer was sheer folly in light of the mortal dangers he would again soon find himself in. He was to leave for the
Ostfront
in two days, and the prospect of facing the Russian winter, having heard that temperatures at the Moscow Front had fallen to as low as minus thirty-seven degrees centigrade, made the thought of leaving his new bride so soon after their wedding all the more unbearable.

It was a cold afternoon towards the middle of the month, and for what seemed like the first time since their wedding, Johann had left Ava at her parents’ home where he’d been staying while he was in Munich. He hadn’t seen anything of Volker during his leave, and while it pained him to be parted from Ava, he had contacted Volker to arrange to see him before returning to his unit. Volker had not been able to escape his responsibilities at the concentration camp, so his friend had suggested Johann visit him there, adding that he had a surprise for him.

Johann had borrowed Herr Bauer’s motorcar for the short journey northwest of Munich to the medieval town of Dachau. He drove up to the concentration camp’s main entrance gates and took in the thick stonework that surrounded them, and it was impossible for his eyes not to be drawn to the black eagle that sat above them, as tall as a man with its wings spread to either side. He showed his papers to the sentry guard who made a telephone call, and a moment later Johann was admitted through on foot and escorted to the
Kommandantur
—the camp headquarters—where he found Volker Strobel waiting for him, standing in his greatcoat with his hands on his hips at the corner of the building. There were two SS guards with him.

‘Johann! It’s always so good to see you, my friend.’

They saluted one another and Volker offered out a black-gloved hand. Johann shook it. There was no informal hug or even a slap on the back this time, which Johann understood was because his friend was on duty and that he had his authority to uphold.

‘It’s good to see you, too, Volker. I missed you at the wedding of course. I was hoping you would be my best man.’

‘It would have been my honour, Johann, but duty first, eh? I trust you received the food and champagne I sent.’

‘We did. Thank you. It went down very well.’

‘I’m sure it did,’ Volker said, almost laughing. ‘It was very fine champagne.’ He pulled his gloves on more firmly and turned away from the building. ‘I’m glad you’re wearing your coat. I’d like to show you the prisoner camp while you’re here, and as I said during our brief telephone conversation yesterday, I’ve arranged a little something for you. Call it a personal wedding present, if you like, just for you.’

‘I’m intrigued,’ Johann said as they moved off, the two guards following close behind them.

As they walked, Volker pointed out various parts of the camp, including the SS troop barracks, the administration buildings, the bakery, and the residential officers’ housing, making a point of highlighting his own accommodation. He asked Johann about the action he’d seen and of the wounds he’d received at the
Ostfront
, and Johann gave him a potted summary of his life on the front line.

An hour passed as in the blink of an eye, so deep were they in conversation, but it was interrupted when they came to a building with a deep inset arch that led to a single iron gate. It had the words ‘
Arbeit Macht Frei
’ written in iron lettering above it, promising those who were imprisoned in the compound beyond that their work would make them free. They passed through the gate, collecting two more guards for their entourage.

‘Being the first camp of its kind,’ Volker said, ‘Dachau has become the model for all others. We now also have SS doctors at the camp hospital, whose duty it is to regularly determine those who are unfit for work.’

‘What happens to them?’ Johann asked.

‘Special Treatment 14f13,’ Volker replied. ‘They are no longer of any use to us here, so they are transferred to Hartheim in Austria. This is the prisoner roll-call area. Those buildings beyond are the prisoner barracks.’

They had arrived in a large open space, where Johann saw many rows of single-storey buildings reaching away for as far as he could see. There were prisoners here and there in their striped uniforms, going about their work, and Johann noticed that they wore armbands of different colours. He asked Volker what they signified.

‘They represent the authority that sent them here,’ Volker said. ‘If the Gestapo send us a political prisoner, he wears a red armband. Anyone convicted by the criminal courts wears green. Those sent by the welfare authorities wear black. Jews yellow. Jehovah’s Witnesses purple, and so on. It helps us to keep track of everyone.’

‘I imagine the security for so many prisoners must be very strong?’

‘Indeed. The camp enclosure is heavily guarded. We have seven guard towers and wire fences that are two deep, creating a ten-foot-wide space between them. The guards have orders to shoot anyone found in this forbidden area, and yet even while the prisoners know this, some still enter. The entire compound is surrounded by a combination of electrified, barbed-wire fencing and brick walls. It’s impossible to escape, so I can only believe they enter the area with the desire to end their own lives. I really can’t understand why.’

As they walked alongside the prisoner barracks and Johann came closer to some of the prisoners, he thought he understood very well. Many were obviously malnourished, and he could only imagine the long work regime they had to endure day in and day out with little or no respite or sustenance. They came to a halt beside a small parade of prisoners who had been lined up three men deep by eight men wide at the end of one of the huts. There were guards to either side of them, clenching their weapons as if threatening to use them at the slightest provocation.

Every prisoner, some wearing thin hats of the same striped material, others with their shaved heads exposed, was visibly shivering in the cold December air. Their otherwise pale skin was tinged with shades of purple at the extremities. It suggested to Johann that they had been standing in the cold for a long time, waiting for Volker to appear. They were all standing to attention, as though they were a fighting unit at an inspection parade, and it was easy for Johann to identify those prisoners who had been at the camp the longest by their drawn faces and hollow-set eyes, and by the way their striped uniforms seemed to hang without substance on their near skeletal frames. As Volker looked upon them, each man seemed to stand more stiffly to attention, forcing his chest out as best he could in an attempt to please their
Lagerführer
. It was clear to Johann from every man’s expression that they did so, not out of pride or honour, but out of fear.

Volker turned to Johann and simply smiled at him, saying nothing, as though he was too proud for words at his efforts to instil such discipline at Dachau. A moment later, he turned abruptly on his heel and continued the tour. Johann was glad to move on.

‘You know,’ Volker said, ‘I’ve a mind to take a bride of my own.’

Johann couldn’t imagine what had prompted Volker to think about marriage after what he’d just seen. ‘Aren’t you going to dismiss those prisoners?’ he asked. Looking back, he could see that they were still standing to attention.

Volker waved his hand, as if flicking at a fly that was irritating him. ‘They will remain there until we leave the enclosure. Do not feel sorry for them, Johann. Those workers were selected because they are in need of discipline. Now where was I? Ah, yes, you remember Trudi, don’t you? The beautiful Trudi Scheffler?’