Daisies Are Forever (24 page)

Gisela clutched her stomach. They had heard the information on the radio a few nights ago. She had a hard time believing it. Mr. Roosevelt had been president for almost as long as she could remember. “America has peaceful presidential transitions, so perhaps nothing will change. Pray that it doesn’t delay their soldiers’ arrival. We need them.”

The teenage girl behind them, wearing the very familiar Hitler Youth uniform—dark skirt, white shirt, kaki jacket with a diamond swastika patch on the left arm—chimed in. “Now the tide of the war will change. Watch and see. America will fall into disarray and their troops will lose the will to fight. Germany will be victorious again.”

Gisela peered at the destruction wrought on Berlin by Allied planes. There was no way Germany would regain the upper hand. She didn’t want the Third Reich to survive.

God, don’t let it survive.

They inched forward, now far enough along to see down the side street to the main avenue, Unter den Linden. Gisela gagged and moved to shield the girls from the sight of traitors being punished.

The Hitler Youth member behind them strode forward and noticed the scene as well. “See what happens to those who do not sacrifice enough for their country, who run away and hide, shirking their responsibilities? It is because of people like them that we have allowed the Allies this close to the capital. They did not give all they had.” She narrowed her eyes at Mitch, accusation in her stance.

Gisela clung to his arm. “He served the Fatherland well, so well that he has shrapnel lodged next to his heart. He can no longer fight.”

Mitch stepped forward. “I man the antiaircraft guns.”

Would he ever learn to keep his mouth shut and not speak German in public?

The girl nodded, but Gisela continued to feel her stare boring into their backs.

A low-flying Allied plane swooped overhead, its engine whirring. Gisela pulled the girls closer to her and held them.

The plane completed several loops before flying east. Russian reconnaissance, most likely.

Gisela blew out the breath she didn’t know she had been holding. Once they had their bread, they walked the back streets to the Tiergarten, avoiding the gruesome scene on the Unter den Linden.

And for a few minutes then, it did feel like a holiday. The lawns of the beautiful park had been torn up, but the wide paths still existed. The girls squealed when Mitch swung them in circles. They couldn’t contain their laughter when he got on all fours and pretended to be a mean old bear.

Nothing did her heart better than to hear the girls giggle.

Then the air-raid siren sounded.

The four of them froze.

Mitch swiveled around, searching in all directions. “Do we have time to get home? Or is there a luftschutzbunker around here?”

“We have plenty of time. Those planes probably haven’t crossed the English Channel yet.” Not wanting their day together to end, Gisela ran to him and gave his arm a playful slap. “You’re it.”

He chased her as she scampered away. “That wasn’t fair. I didn’t even know we were playing tag. Now you had better watch out. You have it coming.”

The girls shrieked and joined the fun. “I’m going to get you, Tante Gisela.” Annelies’s little legs flew over the uneven ground.

“Me too.” Renate did her best to keep up the pursuit, tripping and falling, then getting up again. After a couple of minutes, Gisela grew winded and slowed, then stopped, her hands on her knees,
still weak from the illness. Mitch and the girls tackled her and they fell into a laughing, giggling, coughing heap.

The air-raid sirens screeched their second warning. Mitch stood and brushed the grass and dirt from his pants. “I guess that means it’s time to go.”

Annelies crossed her arms and frowned. “I don’t want to. I want to stay here and play some more.”

Mitch tousled her already tangled hair. “Sorry, poppet, we’ll have to play in the shelter now. Time to go.” He swept Renate into his arms and onto his shoulders.

“Giddyup, horsie,” she cried.

He neighed and galloped off. People hurried in the opposite direction, toward a public shelter.

Mitch peered over his shoulder at Gisela. “Are you sure we have time to get home?”

His questioning made her wonder and her midsection tightened. No use in frightening the girls, though. “Plenty of time. You trot on ahead and we’ll be right behind.”

The sound of bombers murmured in the distance, growing louder, more ominous with each passing second. Antiaircraft fire shook the air. Gisela pulled Annelies behind her and fast-walked to catch up to Mitch. “We need to hurry. We still have several blocks to go.”

The ground beneath them rumbled at the approach of the bombers. Gisela wanted to shout at them to turn around. Did they intend to kill her with everyone else in the city?

The earth shook as the first bombs struck.

“Hurry, hurry!” The roar of the engines drowned out her words. She couldn’t tell whether her body shook or the land beneath her.

She tried to draw a deep breath but couldn’t.

They would never make it to the shelter in time.

TWENTY-SIX

M
itch’s heart threatened to evacuate his body, along with his lunch. The whistle of the bombs grew louder, deafening. The Cramers’ home was too far away. The planes would be upon them in a moment. He slid Renate from his shoulders and held her close to his chest.

Where should they go? What should they do?

He scanned the area for any possibilities, his mind whirring. Lying flat on the ground wouldn’t help. Hiding behind a tree wouldn’t protect them.

What now, Lord?

Then he spied it—a recessed door in a sturdy-looking brick building, the arched entrance as much protection as they would get. He broke off their trajectory, grabbed Gisela’s hand, and sprinted up the steps.

He had never heard the antiaircraft fire so loud. Flak fell around them. Would they be killed by falling shrapnel?

They reached the doorway. Annelies whimpered and Renate sucked her thumb with passion. They huddled together as if that would provide protection should they take a direct hit.

Gisela stared at him, biting her lower lip, crushing Annelies in her grip. Her face was as white as his mum’s bedsheets.

The American pilots wheeled their planes overhead. The air around them buzzed with the whistles of what sounded like a hundred bombs. Mitch covered Renate’s head with his hands. Gisela slipped her arm around him.

No, dear God, no. Keep us safe.

The atmosphere filled with debris. Chunks of concrete crashed to earth in front of them, smashed on the walkway and roadway. Powdery clouds of dust choked them. Renate covered her ears and screamed at the cacophony. Gisela snatched a handful of Mitch’s shirt and pulled him close to her.

One bomb blast was followed by another and another. Bricks fell from the building where they had taken shelter.

Would the entire structure collapse on top of them?

The stench of burning filled his nostrils while Gisela’s hair smelled of roses. They leaned on one another for support.

Dear God, when will this be over? Will we survive? Lord, don’t punish them for my wrong decision.

Mitch had no idea how long they stood in the entryway. After the pilots had carpet bombed the neighborhood, they directed their planes west. To his beloved homeland.

Silence descended.

Then screaming pierced the stillness. Screaming of women and children. Screaming of the dying. Screaming of those left alive.

Mitch didn’t think he could push any sound through his vocal chords.

The all-clear siren announced the end of the air raid.

He set Renate on the ground and felt her arms and legs and head. “Are you okay? Is anything hurt?”

Her gray eyes stood out in her face. “That was loud.”

“Ja, ja, it was. Annelies, how about you? Are you hurt?”

“I want to go home.”

She bore no visible signs of injury. A little of the weight on his chest receded. He stroked Gisela’s arm. “Any damage?”

She trembled beneath his touch. “I don’t think so. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. We could have been killed.”

A well of tears marked the sorrow in her eyes. Her misery was his own. “Don’t be sorry. I’m the one to blame.”

As they scurried to the flat, he couldn’t corral his galloping thoughts. They insisted on stampeding to Frau Cramer and the others. Many, many bombs had fallen on the neighborhood today. Did the building still stand? Had they come through unscathed?

They passed skeletons of homes, glassless windows vacant, staring silently on the scene. What trees had not been cut for fuel stood barren, stripped of their young leaves. Awnings, just unfurled, had burned, the charred metal framework forlorn.

Bleak. Desolate. Foreboding.

Gisela, clinging to Annelies’s hand, willed her frightening thoughts away, pushing them to the furthest corner of her mind as she picked her way down the once-vibrant street. Her pulse pounded in her neck and her breath came in short gasps. Building after building in their neighborhood reduced to a pile of bricks. The glass in the streetlamps lay shattered on the ground.

She handed Annelies to Mitch and increased her pace.

No sound reached her but the whooshing of blood in her ears. Destruction flanked her to the right and the left.

Mutti’s neighbor—she didn’t remember the woman’s name—approached them, her eyes distant, unblinking. Gisela grasped her arm. “What happened? Have you seen Mutti?”

The woman gave a quick shrug and hastened away.

Fear wrapped itself around Gisela like a straitjacket.

She sprinted now, her arms and legs pumping. The buildings, or what was left of them, were a blur.

She turned the corner onto their block. Screams burst from her burning lungs. “Mutti! Mutti!”

The home she had left this morning no longer existed.

Carrying Renate and dragging Annelies behind slowed Mitch’s progress. He lost sight of Gisela as she rounded the corner.

He knew what the news would be.

Piles of red bricks and white stone were heaped where flats, homes, and small businesses once stood.

The buildings’ residents would have been in the shelter. While they liked to pretend that would protect them from a direct hit, Mitch knew that wouldn’t be the case. When a three-story building crumbled around you, it didn’t matter whether or not you were in the bunker.

He continued down the street. People stood in the rubble. Bloodied. In shock. Terrified. He turned the corner and the sight confirmed his worst fears.

Every building on the block had been destroyed. The Cramers’ garden had become a huge, smoldering crater.

A direct hit.

Gisela ran ahead of him, stumbling on the debris lining the street. Filling the street.

Her screams echoed the ones he suppressed. Echoed the cries of those in his regiment as they died on a field in Belgium.

He saw no sign of her mum. Or any of the others.

Gisela dropped to her knees and dug through the rubble. In a full-blown panic, she ripped her hands open against the jagged hunks of concrete. “Mutti! Mutti!”

Her cries pierced his heart. He sat the girls on the concrete step—all that remained of what this morning was a home. Mitch went to her and held her.

She shuddered beneath his touch, then pounded his chest. “Let me go. I have to find Mutti. She’s not here. She’s not here.”

“We’ll find her, love. Don’t worry.”

“We have to dig to the cellar. She might be trapped down there. She was in the basement doing the laundry. Why did I ever leave? I should have stayed and helped. A good daughter would have done her duty.”

“You offered to stay. She wanted you to go.”

She wrenched herself from his embrace and resumed her frenzied search. He joined her.

“And what about Audra and Kurt and the old ladies—where are they? Down there with Mutti?”

“Hey, hey, slow down. You have to be careful how you go about this. If you move the wrong brick, you could rain more rubble on them.”

For a moment, she attempted to heed his warning, moving the remains of the building a little slower. That didn’t last long. She soon resumed her frenetic search.

Blood covered some of the bricks she tossed to the side. Hers? A victim’s?

Time crawled. Time flew by. He couldn’t decide which. His stomach growled. The girls held on to one another. Shadows lengthened and the air held a distinct chill.

“Well, dearie, what is this? Why are people digging like that? I believe the shovel was invented years and years ago.”

Mitch shot to his feet, the world spinning as the blood rushed from his head. Down the street and around the rubble, Kurt and Audra led Bettina and Katya. He slid over the pile of discarded bricks and hurried in their direction. “Look, Gisela.”

She paused a brief moment, scanned the group, then resumed her work, her only goal reaching her mum.

He met them several meters down the street. “Where were you?”

Audra bit her lip. “You didn’t wait for us like we asked. We’ve been looking for you.”

Bettina patted Audra’s hand. “Ja, she took us up and down the Spanish Steps and around the Piazza Venezia. Oh my, what fabulous Roman architecture. Don’t you agree, Sister?”

Katya nodded.

Mitch pressed the matter. “What about Frau Cramer? Did she go with you?” Audra stared at the building’s ruins, as if seeing the destruction and understanding what it meant for the first time. He reached out to steady her as she wobbled and she clasped his wrist. “She didn’t want to come with us. When we left, she was down there, wringing out the clothes.”

Just as they feared. The same cold in the pit of his stomach that had gripped him as he raced across France grabbed hold of him now.

Kurt scampered over the rubble pile and rushed toward Gisela. She turned at his approach, her eyes wide and wild. Tears traced a path through her dirty cheeks. “My mutti. Oh, my mutti.”

She allowed him to hold her. A hot rage surfaced in Mitch, a jealous possessiveness he didn’t know he had. He pulled Audra along with him and clambered over the debris to Gisela, almost tearing her from Kurt’s grasp. “Let us not waste more time. Start digging.”