Love and Hate Page 13

I had felt I had no choice when I gave Gerhard the Nazi the street address to Mr. Franz’s estate. I told Mr. Franz as soon as I arrived. I suggested that perhaps if Gerhard did show up, I could have one supervised dinner with him and then let him know that I wasn’t interested.

  Mr. Franz looked appalled. He said, “You must realize that you are here under false papers, and if this Nazi were to realize that—he could have you sent back to Germany.”

  I was terrified. Mr. Franz assured me that he would let no harm come to me.

  “You will hide for the next two weeks. You will not go outside. I will pretend you aren’t here when and if he comes to my door.”

  Two weeks came and went, and Gerhard the Nazi didn’t come.

  I was taking a walk in Mr. Franz’s gardens when I heard a loud whistle, and I turned around. My heart sank. There he was, in his full uniform.

  “Liselotte! I have gone up and down the street looking for your uncle’s estate. The address you gave me was incorrect. I am sure it was an oversight.”

  I stuttered, “Yes, an oversight...”

  “Would you like for me to take you to dinner tonight?”

  “No, thank you.”

  I started to shake slightly and look at the ground.

  “Why are you looking at the ground? It is like you are hiding something.” He said more sternly, “I need to speak with your uncle. Please take me to him.”

  “Okay, follow me,” I said as if a prisoner.

  I silently led him up to the front of the house, and then he surprised me by following me inside.

  “Call to your uncle, Liselotte.”

  “Uncle Walter,” I said nervously.

  I never referred to him as anything other than Mr. Franz.

  “Uncle Walter!” shouted Gerhard.

  Mr. Franz came down the stairs.

  “Yes, dear Lilo, now who is this?” Mr. Franz said upon reaching the bottom of the staircase.

  “This is Ger-Gerhard.”

  I was still looking at the floor.

  “Gerhard is it? You seem to be making my niece nervous. I don’t like that.”

  “Herr...?”

  “Mr. Franz, you can call me Mr. Franz.”

  “Mr. Franz, I feel there is something suspicious about your niece and...”

  “You need to shut your mouth now, son. And leave. You need to leave now. The only suspicious person is you. Lilo told me that you invited yourself here on the train. You are stalking her, and she is reasonably intimidated by your inappropriate advances. You will leave now.”

  “Not without further explanation of a few things.”

  Mr. Franz was an old man, but acted like he was Gerhard’s physical equal and got in the young man’s face. “Listen, this isn’t Nazi Germany. You cannot tell me what to do. I am a free Swiss citizen...”

  Gerhard interrupted him. “I came to Switzerland to discuss the problem of German Jews and other undesirables crossing the border with false papers. I discussed the matter with your government. I promise you that I can return with the local authorities and demand to examine her papers unless you show them to me now and answer my questions.”

  “If you are going to ask questions, then answer one or two for us, so that we know who you are. What is your name and where are you from?”

  “My name is Gerhard Schultz, and I am from Kassel. My rank is—”

  Mr. Franz smiled. “I don’t need your rank. You don’t scare me, Mr. Schultz. Her papers are in order, but she won’t show them to you, and you can go get whomever you want. Do you know that Lilo is Albert Speer’s second cousin? Look at my estate. I am not a poor man without connections. I am going to write a letter to your mother in Kassel. I will look her up and tell her about how you have treated a good German girl. How you have stalked her. I will also let your superiors know, and Albert too. Maybe he can put in a good word for you with the Führer. So go, get the authorities that will make us show you her papers. Let’s see how far you get after that in your ‘investigation.’”

  He looked visibly anxious and said simply, “I am very sorry, Mr. Franz and Liselotte. I was out of line, and I will ask you to allow me to leave now.”

  “Yes, leave,” Walter said.

  “Perhaps you won’t write to anybody about this, Mr. Franz?”

  Mr. Franz raised his voice. “Leave now, and I won’t. You stay a moment more and I just may.”

  “Auf wiedersehen.”

  And he was gone. Mr. Franz grabbed his chest as soon as the door shut and knelt on the ground. I rushed to him, afraid that he was having a heart attack. He was breathing in and out—shallow breaths.

  “Are you all right, Mr. Franz? Can I help you up?”

  He nodded, and I helped him stand upright. Eventually he started breathing normally.

  “Thank you Mr. Franz, thank you so very much.”

  I gave him a kiss on the cheek.

  I decided to write Hans a letter that night, just a short one, a few lines. I just wanted to let him know that I was thinking about him and that I loved him. A simple letter. I didn’t include the story about the Nazi. I would tell him about that after he was safely with me. I didn’t want to worry him, and by committing it to paper, it would feel like I was burdening him. Even though I had nowhere to send these letters.

  Chapter 32

  I lay still in the tall grass, looking around me. I was trying to ascertain where I was and if it was safe to stand up. I decided that I would stand, because although I could hear gunfire, it sounded faint, like I was some distance from the fighting. I stood up looking around me, and I immediately knew where I was.

  I had walked along the exterior, guarding it many times. I was on the south side of the ghetto, away from the fighting and apparently away from any Nazi encampments. But if you have ever been in war, like I have, you understand stealth and speed. I understood that they could be around me, the Nazis, stealthy and ready to approach. Ready to unleash blitzkrieg.

  I knew that there was an alleyway nearby that led into town. I decided to walk toward it, crouching as I walked in the tall grass. My ears pricked up at the whispering of the wind. I almost expected it. I was nearly resigned to the fact that my luck had run out and that I would be caught and brought to Erich to be slaughtered. I started to believe that I would be caught so strongly that I didn’t even attempt to camouflage myself in the grass any more. I wasn’t thinking of Lilo; I was thinking of how tired I was. Of the violence and hatred. Of hiding, of not being able to find peace.

  I had reached the alleyway, and there was no one all the way down it as far I could see. I looked around me and behind me and saw a shadow that was too small to be a person move. It was a black cat with devilishly yellow eyes. It flicked its tail and stared at me, emitting a soft meow. I sat down, numb, in the dark alleyway, not knowing what to do or where to go. The cat came and sat in my lap. It kept me warm against the cold night air. I petted it and it purred, rubbing its head into my shoulder. I started to fall asleep, and then Lilo visited me suddenly, in my dreams as I lay in the alleyway with the cat.

  She stood over me and said, “You can’t die. You promised me. You promised me that you would live for me.”

  Someone was shaking me. I woke up and looked up. It was a very old man. His wrinkled face stared at me in the small light from the moon in the alleyway.

  “What are you doing out?” he said sternly. “It is well past curfew.”

  “I am homeless,” I said with no other excuse to give.

  “That is no excuse!” he said, raising his voice. “I must turn you in and they will decide what to do with you, where to put you.”

  “Who?”

  “Obergruppenführer Beck, ultimately. He said to be looking for someone like you. He told all of us enforcing curfew.”

  “How do you know that I will not kill you?” I said.

  He stepped back and showed me the pistol he was holding.

  He grinned, motioning for me to get up. “Now walk down the alleyway and turn to the r
ight.”

  I began shuffling down the alleyway while my mind became alert again. I had to think quickly. The man behind me had a gun but was quite old, and I could trick him. He wouldn’t be fast enough to know what was happening.

  I stumbled purposely forward, partially losing my balance. This gave me an excuse to fall back onto the old man without him shooting me. He didn’t realize it was on purpose. I fell on top of him. His reflexes were old, like his body. I was able to take the gun from him before he knew what had happened. I stood up and over him. I pointed the gun at him.

  I led him out of the alleyway, and we walked into the street lit by the soft glow of streetlights. It was deserted; the only sound was gunshots in the distance.

  “You are going to take me to your house.”

  He nodded and began to lead me.

  I reminded him, “Old man, don’t take my not shooting you as evidence that I won’t. I didn’t shoot you in the alleyway because I am not a murderer. But if you make a noise or do anything that jeopardizes my safety, I will put a bullet in your fucking brain, before any Nazi can help you.”

  He reminded me, “But then they would kill you.”

  “That wouldn’t be your problem. You would be dead.”

  I was careful to try to obscure the gun, but there was no point. If we were seen, it would be over for me. He continued to walk and led me to a first-floor apartment door a block down the street.

  I said quietly to him, “It is so quiet and...”

  “Yes, it is past curfew.”

  Upon entering his apartment, I smelled musk. A smell like an old nursing home. Mothballs and dandruff. It smelled of those things and of clothes worn too many days in a row. We entered a small living room with a set of stairs to what looked like a loft above us. I squinted for a minute while my eyes adjusted to the humming electric light. There was a couch and an armchair. As if in charge, he motioned for me to take a seat, and I did, sitting on the edge of the couch. He sat down in the armchair facing me at an angle.

  He asked me, “What are you going to do?”

  I didn’t know.

  I just said, “Look, I am going to have to tie you up.”

  “I understand,” he said solemnly. He then got up without my leave, and said, “Son, I know what you need. Let me get you some water and food.”

  I thought about shooting him, but then realized that I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t able to shoot this old man. He was testing me. If I didn’t even have the illusion of power over him, what did I have?

  I didn’t say anything as he got up and went to the adjacent kitchen. He came back and brought me a simple sandwich and water. He sat back down.

  I watched him carefully as I ate the sandwich with my free hand and finished before I even tasted it. I then took long swigs of the water until I had finished the glass. Ah, I hadn’t realized just how hungry and thirsty I really was. I had forgotten about my body’s needs.

  He started speaking again. “Are you from here? From Regensburg?”

  “No, I am from Passau.”

  “You aren’t going to shoot me, are you?”

  “No, and you aren’t going to turn me in,” I replied, hoping those words were true.

  “No, I will turn you in. But as you haven’t shot me, I will give you a head start. It is only fair, I suppose. Now leave. I will give you five minutes before I phone the Gestapo.”

  I got up but then thought of Lilo and how devastated she would be without me. I changed my mind. I wasn’t going to leave. I put the gun down.

  “Now listen, old man, I may not shoot you or kill you. But I will hurt you if you do that.”

  He smiled at me. He didn’t look scared of me at all.

  “Do you have a car?” I asked.

  “Yes, the keys are on the counter in the kitchen. Take the damn car. You won’t get very far before they find you.”

  “You get the keys,” I said.

  He got them and was facing me as I said, “You won’t call the Gestapo.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Because I am in your house, and I won’t leave. When they come, I will tell them you offered to hide me here.”

  “What?”

  “Yes, and you spoke ill of Hitler.”

  “And why would they believe you?”

  “There are no signs that I have broken into your house. It looks like I was invited. You are not injured, so where is your story, unless you kill me? And I won’t let you do that. You have a fugitive in your house.”

  “They will believe me.”

  “No, they will believe me, because my brother is Erich Beck. My name is Hans Beck. I made him angry, and so he is punishing me—but I will ensure that he will punish you too.”

  “How do I know you are Erich Beck’s brother?”

  “Call them on the phone, we will see how it goes.”

  I walked over to the phone on the corner table and held up the earpiece, smiling. “Shall I dial the Gestapo, or shall you?”

  “Fine, put the damn phone down. What do you want from me so that I can be rid of you?”

  “I am leaving for the country to be with family for a long while. You will let me use your car, your Nazi armband, and you will lend me twenty Reichsmarks. I cannot bring the car back. I will leave it somewhere around Passau, on the side of the road. I cannot guarantee it will be there, but if you go to fetch it within a day, I imagine it will be.”

  “I suppose I don’t have a choice.”

  He handed me his keys. He then slipped off his armband and gave it to me, along with some money.

  “Does it have a full tank of gas?”

  “Yes, it does.”

  “If you write down your address, I will send you the money back.”

  “No, I would rather you forget my address.”

  I thought of Sister Claire. Other than Lilo, she was the only family I had. If I could make it to Passau, I could make sure that Sister Claire had made it home, that Erich had released her. Strangely, he mostly kept his word, despite the sadist that he was. I could also enlist Sister Claire’s help to get to Lilo in Switzerland. I suddenly felt hope.

  “Okay, we have a plan then,” I said. “What is your name?

  “Wilhelm.”

  “Wilhelm, you know that I am going to have to tie you up so that we both can get some sleep. I cannot trust you.”

  “There is rope in the kitchen cupboards, left cupboard.”

  “Why don’t you get the rope while I stay right here,” I said.

  He silently got up and got the rope. I tied him up, and I then left him trussed up on the couch for the night.

  I walked up the stairs and then into the loft. It had no door, but no one could see into the loft unless they were almost at the top of the stairway. I noticed the door to the bathroom, went inside, and closed the door. I undressed, ran the tap, and started the shower. The water was cold to tepid. I didn’t care; it was refreshing as I entered the streaming water. I was still caked with some blood and lots of dirt. I noticed that the water turned a muddy rust as it left my body to swirl into the drain at my feet. My back hurt slightly but was healing, and so I concentrated more on the feeling of cleaning myself. I have never experienced a shower before or since that was that pleasant. My mind was clear and focused only on the sensation of the water and soap. It was intoxicating. There's nothing like cleaning yourself after being that unclean. I felt human again as I grabbed a towel off the rack and dried myself off. I looked in the mirror. I still looked homeless, with my unkempt hair and beard.

  I lay down on the small couch, my legs sticking off the end of it. I slept without another thought. I was so tired that my fatigue swallowed any remaining energy that I had.

  I awoke to the smell of coffee. I followed the scent to the kitchen, where I found Wilhelm.

  He turned around when he heard me enter.

  “I obviously didn’t tie you up well enough. May I have some coffee and toast?”

  He shrugged. Something about his demeanor
told me that he hadn’t phoned the Gestapo or anyone else. My plan might just work. I sat and we ate toast and drank coffee in silence. I felt an odd wave of gratitude as I left Wilhelm, tying him up a little tighter this time.

  I was nervous as I began driving, especially at the checkpoint where a Nazi guard was checking cars at the edge of town, but he just waved me through.

  About halfway to Deggendorf, a town between Regensburg and Passau, I had to stop in the middle of the road. There was a Nazi soldier on the side of the road. As my car approached him, he sternly looked at me and pointed for me to pull over. I didn’t intend to stop for him until he abruptly stood in the middle of the road and I had to hit the brakes hard not to hit him. He smiled and walked to the side of the car and got in.

  “I am sorry to bother you, sir, but I need a ride to Deggendorf .”

  I didn’t know what to say, so I said, “Happy to oblige.”

  I gripped the wheel as if my life depended on it. My furrowed eyebrows couldn’t contain the salty perspiration that was leaking into my eyes.

  “You don’t look like the sort of man who has a car,” he mused as we began our forward motion.

  “I borrowed the car from my uncle.”

  “Ah, well, I will tell you—you look like the sort of man who doesn’t have a home.”

  “I can let you out of the car, sir. You just got in the car without my permission.”

  “I could always have your papers examined to make sure that this is your car, that you have permission to be using it.”

  My heart went out of my chest. My eyes were pulsating. I did look rough and almost homeless.

  “Look, I...”

  “Say nothing of it. I used to be a drinker myself. You have a drinking problem, no?” he said sympathetically.

  I nodded. Whatever he needed to hear.

  “I am sorry to have made you stop to take me into town. I just needed a ride. I should have asked and not tried to use my military privilege to make you take me. My mother died several days ago, and my car broke down. I was given leave, and if I am not back soon, there will be hell to pay.”

  He seemed like a nice man.

  He leaned over to me to tell me, as if in confidence, “Look, I don’t want to condemn you. I am sorry for what you are going through. If it weren’t for those that helped me, well, who knows where I would be. I might be as low, or almost as low as a Jew. In fact, it was a Jew who profited from my drinking. He owned the liquor store in town, the town I am from in lower Bavaria. He made drunks out of so many good Germans. You know, we all must stick together against the vermin. We cannot demonize each other when we have problems. We cannot let Jewish ways influence our people. We are better than that. You are better than that.”