Mother and the siblings greeted Anna’s return with great anticipation, were disappointed that she came without Kate but relieved to hear the whole story, and ecstatic at the food she brought them. There emerged from her backpack a loaf of bread, a jar of preserves, a mason jar of yellow plums, a pound of rice, two small cans of condensed milk, and the fish in tomato sauce from the nurses in Beelitz.
Tante Heyn, realizing that the house had been plundered down to the last scrap of dry bread in their absence, brought bits of bread and cooked macaroni after Anna had left, but the neighbours too were running dangerously close to zero supplies at this moment. No one could say when food stuffs would be available in stores, let alone when ration cards could be expected. Rumours ran wild, while solid information was hard to come by.
“What will we do today?” Anna wondered each and every morning on waking, her mind looking for ideas to feed Foffie. All of their thoughts focused on feeding Foffie, all day long. Korinna had taken the children’s bike, too short to be desirable to marauding soldiers, and bicycled to a farm ten kilometers away to ask for carrots or beets. She returned with five beets and an egg and the message that she couldn’t expect to receive anything in the future. There were just too many mouths to feed at the farm.
She was so embarrassed and humiliated that she forgot to ask what they might be willing to offer for salt. So Mother sent her to a second farm two days later and, beaming all over and out of breath, she returned with bread, liverwurst, cheese, potatoes and bacon.
Anna and Nadja slipped into the woods sometimes to search for nettles and a pale weed that were both plentiful and could be cooked, tasting somewhat like spinach, but the leaves were reduced to nothing in the pot, no matter how much they thought they had found. Mother reminded them often how rich these plants were in vitamins. And that was true. Dandelions they found in their own back yard, turning bitter now after the first bloom, but they gave them to Foffie to chew on. The weather turned quite warm and so bushes were flowering, birch trees sporting their pale green, and birds were singing. Where had the birds suddenly come from?
After the rain, a trip into the woods had to be made early in the morning, before curfew was over, as other eager eyes were looking for the mushrooms growing in the woods around Berlin. The girls had been taught in biology class which ones were edible, and on a field trip learned where to look for which species. “Butter mushrooms” with the gleaming, sticky, tops, were relatively plentiful, but there were no chanterelles in these parts. Poisonous toadstools were everywhere. Anna and Nadja already knew a lot about mushrooms from the long walks with Father in the vicinity of the riding stables, discovering mosses, beetles and snails, and the occasional snake.
After the mushrooms had been cooked, reduced to a pitiful pile in the pan (“they are rich in minerals, remember,” and they were), they rinsed the plates in a bucket of water, and began thinking what they would feed Foffie for his next meal. WHAT? Where to look?
It was difficult to harness one’s attention when talking with a neighbour, focus constantly flitting away to the topic of food, searching for it, imagining it, craving it, and the memory of spotting Foffie quietly looking for pots on the cold stove, rubbing his cheeks. He lay awake at night, and they knew it was from hunger. Foffie was sucking his thumb as he had done as a baby. The haunted look on Mother’s face never left now. The tic that had appeared in her left cheek was constant, but she didn’t notice. She would wait at the fence when they returned from lining up at the bakery on a rumour there might be bread later today. Sometimes there was, other times supplies ran out before their turn arrived, and occasionally the door was never even unlocked in the first place.
While the soldiers were camped at the park with their horses, the field kitchens invited the children to come and collect thick, spicy rice soup with meat. They smiled at the little ones, who were not afraid. At night the soldiers would lounge on the ground, playing accordions and singing sad songs, getting drunk and invading all the houses looking for women, the mothers and sisters of the little ones they fed and patted on the head during the day. The population was still not permitted to lock doors at any time, for easier access, ‘in case anyone was hiding German soldiers.’