Berlin Wolf (29 page)

‘Now Hannah. If you can keep quiet until I tell you, you will be the winner. Okay?' Hannah moved her head up and down in response to Peter's question. Somehow she knew not to speak.

‘Good girl. Now let me carry you. Don't worry Franz will be right behind.'

As Peter and Franz sneaked slowly closer to the lake's edge he wondered at how light the little girl was. That would hopefully soon change. They edged forward one cautious step at a time. Peter's heart was racing. He was certain the others, including the sentries must be able to hear it.

After what seemed an eternity the two boys and their young charge were right by the water's edge. The only sound was the gently lapping water in the slight breeze. Peter crouched low to the ground and signalled to Franz to follow suit.

‘Listen Hannah,' Peter whispered, this is the last part of our game. Do you see that big boulder over there?' Hannah nodded vigorously.

‘Do you think you can crawl to that rock without making any noise and without being seen?'

Again Hannah nodded and without waiting further, she began to crawl quickly, but quietly. When a few minutes later she was safely behind the large boulder, Peter began to crawl after her. Just moments later Franz began the same scramble along the ground. Metres from safety Franz stopped.

‘Grrr! Grr!' The German shepherd's growl carried across the open space from the sentry box. Franz froze. As he pondered what to do next a sentry's voice made the decision for him.

‘Ach you stupid dog. It's only moonlight. Inside now.' He turned and pulled the dog away, still growling.

‘You should listen to your dog,' Peter thought, glad at the sentry's stupidity.

Franz clambered the last few metres to his friends and fell behind the rock exhausted. They rested for just ten minutes. Peter lifted Hannah in his arms and the three walked quickly away from the border. At last they were in Switzerland!

By ten o'clock that evening Franz, Peter and Hannah had safely arrived in the village where Lotte was staying. Fortunately the last stage of the journey was much easier than they had anticipated. The guards were unable, and in many cases unwilling, to try and patrol the whole of the border, let alone anywhere more than a kilometre from the border itself. They had not seen anyone else. A short walk and the three fugitives were outside a hotel room. Peter knocked on the door. On his back Hannah had fallen asleep. Inside the room Wolfi barked and bobbed up and down boisterously.

Lotte opened the door and flung her arms around Peter and Hannah. Hannah stirred momentarily, then fell asleep once more.

‘Oh thank goodness you're safe,' Lotte cried, tears in her eyes. Wolfi had wedged himself between Peter and Lotte with his tail thumping against their legs. She hugged Franz before ushering them all into the room.

Peter and Franz rented a second room. The owner, unused to such late night arrivals, was grateful for the extra business. Hannah was still hidden from view. Even though they were now in neutral territory, it was too close to the border for her to be seen. As they were due to go back to Germany they could not afford to be spotted with a smuggled Jew, as return might then be impossible.

* * *

The reunion with Berta the next day was very emotional. She and her husband arrived by car almost as soon as they had finished breakfast. Aunt Berta almost suffocated her two boys as she pressed them tightly to her.

‘Oh, my boys. How you have grown! How handsome you are!' she repeated over and over. All the while Wolfi bounced around her impatiently. In her enthusiasm Berta had almost forgotten about the ‘special gift'.

When the hubbub had died down, Berta and Lotte embraced warmly, saying very little. Lotte stepped to one side to reveal the tiny Hannah. Hannah was uncharacteristically shy. Berta stooped down to her level and said, ‘Hello my little treasure. I am Aunty Berta. What's your name?'

‘Hannah,' the little girl replied and stepped behind Lotte.

With some encouragement from Lotte, Hannah allowed Berta to cuddle her. Within minutes she was sitting on her knee in the back of the car as they drove to Berta's house. Wolfi was stretched out on Peter and Franz's lap and Lotte sat in the passenger seat. Much though she loved her good friend Berta, Lotte could not help feel a bit jealous. Something inside her still longed to protect ‘her little girl'.

They spent a full month at Berta's house. Lotte was able to travel to her parents at Oberstdorf as it was so close. With Hannah safely in Switzerland she could travel openly as a German citizen. Peter was reunited with an object especially important to him: it was the walking stick with Wolfi's head carved on top that Franz had made in their camp. Berta had kept it for him. Peter took it with him on all their long walks in the hills, something which pleased Franz immensely.

After her initial hesitation Hannah was as smitten with Berta as Berta was with her. In just the few weeks of freedom the little girl had changed. She behaved much more as a young child should. She played outdoors with Wolfi where they made snowmen and went sledging. She never missed a walk with Peter's dog. She quickly learnt how to ski and terrorised the others with the speed she flew down the slopes. Most pleasing of all, she started to put on weight with her improved diet and the treats that Berta lavished on her: ice creams, cakes of all descriptions, especially chocolate and real Swiss truffles. As her weight increased and her happiness grew she also became more talkative. She still could or would not disclose what had happened to her in the past, but otherwise she was a chatterbox.

Aunt Berta had never been happier. She had been dispossessed of her fine home in Berlin. Much of their wealth had been lost. She and her husband were living in exile and seldom able to see old friends. In spite of all of this Berta was overjoyed. Of course she was thrilled that her friends, including Wolfi, were there. There was one single overwhelming cause of her happiness: Hannah. Never had she believed that someone so young and so small could have such an impact. Berta wanted to adopt her, but knew she would have to wait. And of course there was Lotte. She had never shown the slightest maternal instinct in her life. The short time she had cared for Hannah had changed her. Lotte and Berta were very good friends and neither would allow that to alter. For the time being the issue would not arise as Lotte was returning to Berlin. She had agonised for many weeks, finally deciding she could not leave Peter and Franz.

‘At least I will visit Hannah regularly,' she consoled herself, ‘and for months at a time.' Even the ever optimistic Lotte knew this was impractical.

On the 10
^th
February 1944 Peter and Franz were leaning out of the window of a passenger train bound for Berlin. They were at the station in St. Gallen, Switzerland. They had said an emotional farewell to Hannah and Berta at Berta's home. Now they must say goodbye to Lotte, if only for the next month. As usual Lotte's appearance attracted the attention of many people, especially men, but she did not notice. She was focussed on Peter and Franz. Against her wishes they were returning to Berlin alone and with a number of important items hidden in their luggage: more ink for forging documents and chemicals for developing photographs, disguised as bottles of alcohol. They both had their forged travel permits and identity documents and passports. Carefully secreted in the lining of one of the cases was a genuine document, a Swiss passport. Franz had a new idea how to rescue more people and he could not wait to put it into operation.

Lotte reached up to the open window as the guard blew his whistle and waved his red flag and the train moved off. ‘Be careful boys. I will see you soon,' she said, waving to them.

‘Oh thank heavens. Thank heavens!' Lotte said over and over. Peter and Franz were silent. Wolfi looked on, happy to be with his friends. The Professor stared at the radio, taking in the news. The old valve radio set in the corner of the room was barely audible. It had to be that way. No-one must know that they were listening to the BBC. Again the broadcaster repeated the news that was so welcome.

‘Early this morning Allied forces landed on the beaches of Normandy and have progressed inland.' The Allied invasion had begun. The Nazi war machine was on the retreat in Europe.

Peter and Franz had been back in their Berlin apartment for three and a half months. In that time their frustration grew almost daily. For both of them it had become even more difficult to travel openly. They were clearly of military age and apparently fit. The war was going badly for Germany. They should be at the front or at sea. The excuse that they were on leave would only succeed so many times. They even had to avoid contact with Lotte's neighbours, any one of whom was capable of reporting them to the authorities.

As a consequence the Professor made most trips around the capital, normally by bicycle. The resistance consisted mainly of distributing ration cards or money to a network of u-boats. Most were in hiding with friends. Many moved every few days to lessen the risk of detection. For all of them life was extremely hard. At least with money to buy food on the black market they had some hope of survival. For now there was still a thriving black market, although all of them knew that could not last forever.

‘Do you think it will work?' Franz asked Peter. Both were delighted with the news of the invasion. But they had learned to be cautious in their optimism, lest this be just another false dawn. Meanwhile their work must continue.

On the coffee table Franz had spread out a pile of passports, Swiss passports. All of them forged. Unable to venture outside on a regular basis, Franz had been very busy. His skills as a forger had only improved with practice.

‘They are very convincing. But how do we get the new owners to the border? The train is too dangerous. We can't hide them all in trunks.' Peter's pessimism was not unfounded. On their journey back from Switzerland a talkative train conductor had been asking about the ships they had served on. His son was also in the navy. It had been too close for comfort.

As Peter examined the passports more closely he noticed something quite unusual. ‘They are nearly all children and quite young children,' he said surprised.

‘That's right. All of them are in hiding with one parent or both. Even though it is hard, the parents agree we should help them escape to Switzerland,' Franz explained, ‘the Professor has been in contact with all of them.'

For the u-boats that were lucky enough to have shelter with other citizens the greatest difficulty was ensuring that young children, confined indoors for all the daylight hours, did not make a noise and give them away.

Lotte moved away from the radio set, wiping away a tear with her handkerchief. It was time to get back to the business in hand. She had that look in her eye that they had seen so frequently.‘The Professor and I have an idea,' she said. ‘And if we are going back to Switzerland we should take these with us.' She reached into a tall art deco porcelain vase and removed several rolled up canvasses.

‘So that's where you hid them!' said the Professor. They had decided that it was safer for all concerned if only Lotte knew their hiding place.

‘If my plan is to work we will need a lot of money.' Lotte was pacing up and down, the priceless canvasses still in her hand.

* * *

‘All tickets, passes and travel permits please,' the conductor shouted as he walked the length of the train. It was two weeks later. As he approached the two nurses and eight children he wondered why they were virtually alone in this compartment. The rest of the train was overflowing with many passengers forced to stand. The train was bound for Geneva. All the children wore warm hats and coats and their necks were wrapped tightly with scarves.

‘Tickets, passes and travel permits please,' the conductor repeated his request, this time less forcefully.

A very pretty nurse, with bright blonde hair just protruding from her nurse's cap, handed him ten passports, ten tickets and a letter. As she did so she appeared to wink towards the children. The conductor did not notice. On cue, two of the children coughed and spluttered. The other nurse stared steadfastly at the floor, avoiding his gaze.

The conductor's face rapidly changed from officious to horrified. The letter bore the official stamp and heading of the Reich's Security Office. It was countersigned by the Reich's Minister for Transportation.

The conductor read no more. He did not even check the passports and tickets, simply handing them back to the nurse.

‘I can't dawdle here I have work to do,' he blurted and, having made his excuses, he hurried out of the compartment.

Several uneventful hours passed until later that evening the train stopped near the border. It was not a scheduled stop, however, and the passengers grew anxious. The pretty nurse stood up and pulling down the window poked her head through the gap. She watched nervously as the conductor spoke with a Major in the SS, a Major Krieg. She could not hear precisely what was being said, although she did manage to decipher a few key words, including ‘infectious' and ‘children'. The officer raised his hand dismissively to the conductor and walked towards the train. In spite of the warning from the conductor, Major Krieg boarded. Worse still he boarded closest to the two nurses and their wards. He made his way straight to the nurses' compartment. The pretty nurse sat down in her seat and waited for the inevitable. The second nurse was less calm.

‘We have been betrayed,' she said, standing up.

‘Sit down!' the pretty nurse scolded, ‘And stay calm!'

‘Papers!' Major Krieg made no pretence at courtesy. In the long years of the war he had witnessed a lot of suffering. A few sick children would not deter him from his work.

The pretty nurse passed all the necessary paperwork to Major Krieg. He carefully read the letter from the Ministry, tutting now and then. Next he examined the passports carefully one at a time. Meanwhile the other nurse subdued her panic, but was barely able to breathe. Although worried the pretty nurse forced herself to look the soldier in the eye, feigning a friendly smile all the while. Avoiding eye contact would only increase suspicion.

‘You are German?' Major Krieg seemed surprised.

‘Yes,' came the pretty nurse's single word reply. Her voice was faint as her nerves began to get the better of her.

‘My men are bravely fighting the enemy. They are dying daily or worse they are badly wounded. We are short of everything, even ammunition. And you waste valuable resources taking children who are going to die anyway out of the country. Swiss children! Not even good Germans!'

She could not think of a suitable response and so the pretty nurse said nothing. Until now the Professor's brilliant idea had worked wonderfully. He had noticed on the underground train how everyone moved compartment when an extremely ill-looking man had begun coughing. Major Krieg was battle hardened and entirely unsympathetic and the ploy had not worked on him. The pretty nurse, wondered whether he was going to throw them off the train there and then. Or worse.

Major Krieg moved towards her. She flinched, fearing he was about to slap her. His hand was raised. He did not strike. Instead, stepping towards her, he tossed the papers at her angrily.

‘Clump!' Major Krieg's worn leather boot caught the large suitcase resting at her feet. To her horror he paused a moment, stooped and bent down to examine it. She gulped as he asked, ‘What's in here? Open it up. The penalty for smuggling is very severe.'

Lotte, the pretty nurse, leaned forward as slowly as she dared. For once her looks and charm had not succeeded in distracting the enemy. If he felt in the lining of the case he would surely find the precious paintings. Much more frightening, he might arrest her and her travelling companions. It would not take long for the truth to come out.

‘Why oh why did I bring the paintings with me?' she reproached herself. In reality she was being very harsh in her self-condemnation. There had been little choice. The antiques shop owner, purchaser of the other paintings, had left the city, fleeing the oncoming allies. To sell to anyone else in Berlin was too dangerous. The only safe market was in Switzerland.

Lotte was struggling with the straps on the case. Her tense fingers had lost their usual dexterity and she was fumbling.

‘Give it here you imbecile! I will do it!' Major Krieg screamed. He grabbed at the handle of the case and tried to wrench it from her. She was unusually panic-stricken. She did not care less about the paintings. They were simply a means to an end. She cared greatly, however, for the young children she was smuggling.

‘Herr Major! Herr Major!' a voice shouted from the other end of the compartment. Major Krieg swivelled on the spot, still holding the case.

‘Thank goodness,' Lotte sighed. It was a moment's distraction, a welcome distraction nonetheless. Or so she thought until she spotted the cause.

The SS officer, a very young lieutenant, only a boy, came rushing along the train, still shouting, ‘Herr Major! Herr Major!' On reaching Major Krieg the young boy clicked his heels together and, offering the Nazi salute, stole a glance at the pretty nurse, all the while facing his commanding officer. Lotte looked away, distractedly studying the floor.

‘Don't look this way! Please don't look!' she prayed.

Major Krieg did not salute in response to the boy lieutenant, instead asking in a clearly irritated voice: ‘What now? Can I not have a moment's peace?'

Out of breath and somewhat concerned the boy soldier leaned forward and whispered something in Major Krieg's ear. Suddenly and without warning, Major Krieg dropped the case on the floor, pirouetted abruptly on the spot, then dashed back along the corridor. The boy lieutenant still breathless, turned to follow. He took a last look at Lotte, his gaze remaining on her for longer than was comfortable. She did not lift her eyes from the floor.

With one final glance, the boy lieutenant clicked his heels in salute and hurried along the corridor before jumping onto the platform. At last Lotte could relax a little as Major Krieg and his trusted and eager young Lieutenant Kurt drove away at speed in a staff car.

Lotte did not hear what had been said between the two men. She did not care. Once more Kurt had played a role in events, except this time he had unknowingly helped to save several Jewish children. The thought made her want to laugh out loud. She resisted. Thankfully the little contact she had with Kurt was not enough for him to recognise her, helped by her basic disguise. She had recognised him at once. He had gained his wish and was part of the ‘struggle'. In spite of everything Lotte hoped he might survive the war, if only for Berta's sake.

‘Come on! Come on!' Lotte implored. In spite of Kurt's disappearance the tension was unbearable. The Major had gone, but he might delegate someone else to check the contents of her trunk. Finally, after a few agonisingly slow minutes, the train wheels creaked into motion, and with the engine belching out smoke, the locomotive pulled slowly away. Lotte was so grateful. The children were almost safe, as was the mother of one of them, the other nurse. The paintings had not been discovered and she would soon see Hannah again. Surely nothing else could hinder their journey.

* * *

Meanwhile Peter was in Berlin in the park near Lotte's apartment. He studied the man carefully. His face seemed familiar. He could not quite place him. He was certain however that he was a friend of his father's. More importantly he was a Jew and therefore must be in hiding.

Peter was in the Tiergarten with Wolfi. He was in his naval uniform. Since he had first acquired it he had grown again and it was a little tight. That was not uncommon in Berlin as many boy soldiers were forced into the service of the Reich and even material for uniforms was scarce. Unwanted questioning was a gamble he had to take. Wolfi needed his daily exercise.

Peter was toying with the idea of approaching the Jewish man when he halted in his tracks. Gestapo agents! How could he have missed them? Two were reading or pretending to read their newspapers and one was sitting on a bench eating a bread roll. It was plain they were Gestapo men from the usual uniform of black leather. They were just ten or so metres away from the Jewish man who was walking through the park away from Peter.

‘He's going to be caught,' Peter said to Wolfi under his breath. Wolfi looked back at his master, stick in his mouth. Peter began to follow in the direction of the Jewish man. He was desperately trying to think what to do when he came to a dead stop.

‘Did I just imagine that?' he whispered to Wolfi. The Jewish man had looked right at the two Gestapo officers, pretending to read their newspapers. Rather than turn away from them he appeared to nod his head in their direction. As if to confirm it, the Jewish man nodded very quickly once more. The Gestapo men lowered their newspapers and one quite clearly tipped his head forward in response.

All of this occurred in seconds and Peter was still undecided how to react. He could not be their target. His own father would scarcely recognise him now. In particular he was healthier looking and better nourished than most fugitives. He was on the point of running away when he saw the real quarry.