They were not to meet again for the next five months.
Early one morning, there was a knock on the door, and a very skinny, oddly dressed man stood in the hall, looking at Korinna.
“Uncle Wernig,” she called, “it really is you. Foffie said — MOTHER. Uncle Wernig is here. Come in, please come in.”
And their neighbour of many years came in. No, he didn’t want any peppermint tea, and he really couldn’t stay this time, but had they heard from their Father?
“No,” said Mother, she had no idea where he might be. He had pulled out with his Home Guards unit of Veterans the night before the Russian army moved in. Had stopped by briefly, but then moved on.
“Well, I’ve been debating whether or not to even mention this to you, because I can’t be certain, but my daughter said I should tell what I saw and let you decide what you think. You see I was walking and hiking, getting short rides here and there, from a British PoW camp, making my way to the Soviet demarcation line to get to Berlin, when I found myself in Hildesheim, near Hannover, and —”
“Yes?” said Mother, raising her hands to her cheeks, “my sister lives there with her family-”
“Oh, does she?” and now Uncle Wernig got excited. “I was on my way to the railroad station, on a streetcar, packed with people, of course, but I looked out the window, and I saw this man walking along. I saw only his profile, and just for a moment, but he looked so much like your husband, I could have sworn — but then the streetcar didn’t stop for a long time, and by the time I got off and walked back a few blocks, he was gone. So I went to the railroad station and got a train. Do you think?”
“Oh yes, oh yes. I’m sure it would have been my husband. This is wonderful news, Mr. Wernig. Thank you so much for coming and giving us hope! How kind of you.”
“The city is badly damaged, just one air raid apparently, but the old town burned like cinder, I was told. Your sister was alright, her family? Did you hear?”
“Yes, their business and warehouse are lost but not their home on the outskirts. I’m sure they will be alright for now. Oh, Mr. Wernig!”
“I must go. The mails will soon be functioning again, they say, and then you’ll hear from him, I’m sure.”
Korinna and Foffie accompanied Uncle Wernig to his house. When they returned they found Mother discussing a plan with the sisters. Anna and Nadja were to try to cross ‘the green border’ to the British zone to find their Father. They were convinced that it had been Father, and he would be so worried.
First they would make enquiries if laissez-passers were to be had at all. (The word was NO.) And no one was allowed to even approach the border. Then they would plot.
The next morning Nadja ran into a group of girls in the line-up who said their aunt was leaving for the British Zone on the weekend. It was to be her second time. They offered to ask if she would take them along.
Word came later that day that the answer was no. She was too afraid to take on the responsibility for the two girls, but would meet with them and share advice.
“Take nothing but a small backpack with a bit of food and water,” she told them, when they met on the park bench. “Wear rough and tough clothes, like running shoes and flannel pants and a long sleeved sweater. You will be crawling on your belly and ducking bullets. Don’t take a watch. Don’t take I.D. If you are caught, claim you’re from the other side, going home. Say your papers were stolen. Take very little money. Don’t pay anyone a bribe who claims he can take you across. It may not work. Best advice, stay home in the first place.”
“That’s not an option. Thank you so much!”
“Good luck, girls. You’ll need plenty.”
They bought tickets for the local train that would take them to the border the next day. It was perfectly legal to travel to the closest village.
“Plan to be there at dusk,” the aunt had said, “so as not to be seen hanging around a small place where you stick out like the proverbial thumb.” You needed to walk right through the village and out the other side, to get close to the border, she had said. The actual line between the Russian zone and the British zone was somewhere near the top of the potash mine, she thought, the artificial ridge, easily patrolled by guards, with a clear view of the land dropping away on both sides.
“They shoot with real bullets,” she had said, “and they aim to stop border crossings. They mean business.”
When they said goodbye to Mother, Korinna and Foffie, Nadja couldn’t know that she wouldn’t see them again for three years. But Mother seemed eager to see them go. There was little food in the house. Ration cards had been promised but not yet delivered, and daily line-ups often produced nothing whatsoever after hours of waiting. They would go for help.
Lilly had come to say goodbye, hugging the girls and crying, and promising her prayers would be with them. She had lost more weight, making her huge eyes appear even larger, troubled, worried. Anna held her for a long time.
The train was packed. The scheduled stops in places they had never heard of before, six to be precise, would surely absorb some of these passengers along the way. They didn’t. Hundreds of human beings, men, women and children, dressed in rags, carrying bundles, some wearing uniform trousers or boots, were disgorged onto the small rural platform, the last stop. A ragtag lot stood on the opposite side, waiting to take the train to Berlin, either having made it across the border from West Germany, or finally giving up the attempt to cross.
Dusk was an hour away. The girls decided not to walk right through the centre of the village, along with throngs of others, but to make their way along a dirt path, ending in a deep, grassy ditch where they decided to hide until dark.
“You mean we have to go up that sheer steep incline up ahead? They’re walking back and forth right on top, a few hundred feet up. They can just aim and pick us off,” said Nadja. “See them? The place is lousy with guards.”
“Of course, I see them,” said Anna impatiently. She was most concerned about being joined by the many other potential border crossers in the ditch, huddled against one side, some smoking.
“I wonder what the Russians are doing over there, though. Can you see the street up there? It’s covered in paper garlands.” Loudspeakers were blaring Russian folksongs, interspersed by what sounded like rousing messages. The border guards up on the ridge were firing rifles at frequent intervals, making for a very noisy scene.
Without warning, a voice directly above them commanded them to come out of the ditch and line up. A Russian officer stood with his hands on his back and spoke to them through an interpreter.
“You must all go back to the station. Right now. Or we shoot,” said the interpreter cheerfully.
“Go. Now. Don’t go over there. The English shoot you too. It’s forbidden to go there.”
The officer pointed in the direction of the railroad station and walked away. The interpreter waited for his boss to disappear from sight, then spoke in hushed tones: “Two prima watches,” he pleaded, “and you can all go.” No one stirred. He waited. People raised their bare wrists to demonstrate there were none to be had.
“My watch is already in Moscow, learning Russian,” said a lady.
The interpreter laughed. “Two prima watches,” he pleaded again.
Finally, a woman pulled a ring from her finger and handed it over.
“It’s silver,” she said. “It’s all I have, honestly.” Their man examined the ring, placed it in his breast pocket and demonstratively walked away from them, waving his fingers behind his back.
“That was awfully good of you,” said Anna, “we owe you our thanks. We really didn’t have anything to give him.”
“I know,” she said. “It wasn’t such a precious piece, but we aren’t safe yet. Far from it. This is my second time. It feels so totally different from the first. There are so many troops here, and all this music, the decorations. I’ll bet they’re celebrating something pretty big, want to draw away some of those guards up there, reduce the manpower for the night. I’m going to pretend I’m heading back to the station, and then return in a big circle, out around those barns back there, in the dark.”
“Would you mind if we came with you?” asked Anna, “or would you rather be alone?”
“Of course, come along. You understand that I can’t be responsible for you, and can’t guarantee that I’m right. It’s just a hunch.”
“We’ll take a chance,” said Nadja.
“We’re lucky there’s a cloud cover,” said the woman, “on a moonlit night, they could spot a dew worm up there. It’s some thirty metres crawling across the sheer, flat ridge, then down again a steep drop on the opposite side. If you hear anyone call ‘STOJ’, get up, stand stock-still and raise your hands.”
“We’re Anna and Nadja,” the girls said and extended their hands.
“Hello,” said the woman. “I’m Maria Meyer. Can you swim?”
“Yes, why?”
“We have to cross a small stream, there’s no other way, but the water was pretty shallow last time I went. Shallow and cold. The Aue, I think it is. You can wade across usually, they tell me.”
“Is it true that the British will shoot at us when we get over there?” asked Anna.
“No. I doubt it. Nothing happened to me. It’s just a long walk over there.”
They had reached the railroad station, the platform crowded with discouraged humanity. The next train wasn’t due for another two hours.
“Let’s stick around here for a while,” said Maria, and they mingled with other passengers.
The girls sat on an abandoned tire, and chewed on their bread, and went drinking water from a filthy fountain. The music and merry-making from the village had taken on deafening proportions. Soldiers were driving around in jeeps singing and waving bottles in the air.
The train came and departed with most of the tired and disappointed. Night finally fell, as they slunk, six feet apart, along the village periphery. A dog started barking furiously as they passed a barn, and a man opened a door and shouted at it. They continued in silence, thinking the distance to be much farther than earlier in the afternoon. They stopped and caught their breath beside a farmhouse, when Maria motioned to the girls with her hand. They heard footsteps, moving a few feet, then stopping, and moving again. They flattened themselves against the dark wall.
Someone sneezed, just in front of them, and again, and again. Were they being followed?
Then the footsteps moved off. Maria chose a part of the slag face that had ragged edges and hollow spots in which to take cover, if necessary. They began to climb, easily at first, then with difficulty, sliding back several times as the wall got steeper. They couldn’t see anyone patrolling on top, but they had heard shots fired at close range above, just as they began their ascent.
They had agreed not to talk, and had been told not to mind gun shots, unless they were directly ordered to stop.
One by one they reached the top and carefully peeked at the unbroken, flat, expanse straight ahead of them. Two guards were patrolling in their section, one approaching about twenty metres to the right. He stopped as they ducked, shouted something, turned and fired his rifle, then shouted again. If only the cloud cover would hold!
The girls were shaking, digging their shoes into the steep hill-side, eyes closed.
“Why did we do this? What are we doing here?” said Anna to no one in particular.
“Now!” whispered Maria and she swung up and onto the flat expanse, started to crawl furiously on all fours. The girls followed, noticing the guards now walking in the opposite direction, each heading away from them. They made good headway at first, but soon Maria dropped to her stomach and began to inch along, clearly believing they couldn’t afford to be spotted against the night sky. And after what seemed like an eternity, they reached the far side and made their way down in total, terrible darkness. Holding onto each other’s hands, they struggled across a rugged field, until they could hear the sound of rushing, gurgling water, not unlike that made by a mountain brook. They knelt down to feel for rocks and to test the temperature, then took off their shoes, rolled up their pant legs and began crossing, holding on to the person before them. The icy water reached up just above their knees, but they were able to step onto rocks and debris partly submerged. The stream was not wide, and they scrambled up the other bank, teeth chattering, though buoyed by the hunch that they might actually be on the other, the safe side.
Just then they heard sneezes again, and more sneezes, and realized that somewhere in the darkness, someone, perhaps several fellow travelers, had made it safely across with them.
They were walking alongside a field in first wheat. No sign of a patrol or any other military evidence could be detected. An immense fatigue overcame them, but they didn’t dare stand still. What if it hadn’t been the real border up there? What if it was still ahead of them? On they walked, until they came upon a small hydro substation, a house emanating the furious noise of massive compressors, deafening but steady. They tried the door and on finding it unlocked, walked in and lay down on the concrete floor and fell asleep.
As they walk along tree-lined country roads, green fields on either side, the next morning, it feels different, very different over here. When they ask for water at a farm, they receive mugs of fresh milk, buttered rolls and they are offered a ride on a horse-drawn cart that will bring them close to the railroad station in Helmstedt. People feel safe, lives dictated by the seasons have been resumed out here.
Though they have been forewarned by their Aunt’s letter in March, the devastation of Hildesheim, wrought in a single fifteen minute air raid, comes as a great shock to the exhausted girls. They stumble through the ruined streets of the old town, eventually catching a streetcar that will take them in the right direction. Thank goodness, out here in the outskirts, things are intact, unchanged, it seems, from when they last visited two years ago. They walk up the hill, but stop at the corner, just a block from the house.
“What are we going to say?” asks Nadja. “We are just arriving like that…”
“Nothing,” says Anna, “I intend to say nothing at all. What can you say? We love them. They love us. We’re family.”