Forgotten Soldier (26 page)

Paula turned her face toward me. Her eyes were still closed, and her hand gripped mine. I felt that I might faint. In a fever of emotion,

I think I told her I loved her. Then I pulled myself together. I didn't know whether I had spoken or not. Paula hadn't moved. I must have been dreaming.

Suddenly, we turned our heads. The air was filled once again with the sinister sound of sirens howling in unison from the airport to the edge of the city. We stared at each other, astounded.

"Can it be another raid?"

This seemed unlikely. At that time, daytime raids near the capital were still extremely rare. However, the sirens were impossible to mistake: they were signaling the start of a raid, and we quickly believed them. Planes were rolling down all the runways, gathering speed.

"The fighters are taking off, Paula! It really is a raid!"

"You're right! Look down there-all those people running to the shelter!"

"We should get into a shelter too, Paula."

"But we're perfectly safe here-it's the country. They're going to bomb Berlin again."

"I guess you're right. We're as well off here as in one of those airless holes."

The German fighters roared over our heads.

"Ten ... twelve . . . thirteen . . . fourteen," cried Paula, waving at the Focke-Wulfs boring through the air over our heads. "Good luck to our pilots! Three cheers for them!"

"Go on, boys!" I shouted, to fall in with her mood.

"Go on," Paula repeated.

"It's not nighttime now-they'll be able to see. Twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four-how many there are! Hooray!"

Thirty fighters had taken off, and were soaring into the sky. Their tactic was to climb as high as possible, so that they could swoop down on the bombers from above and sting them in the back. The Luftwaffe had perfected the formidable Focke-Wulf 190's and 195s, which could soar up quickly, for precisely this purpose. We could hear the distant firing of anti-aircraft guns.

"If we catch them that far away, they'll never even get to Berlin," Paula said.

"I hope not, Paula."

I had already forgotten about the damned raid, which had made me drop my girl's hand. Leaving the fighters to look out for themselves, I was preparing a second attack. I was already quite close to Paula, when the roar of enemy bombers drowned out the sounds of the nearby city, and overwhelmed us.

"Oh, look, Guille," she said, as always mispronouncing my name. "They're coming from over there-look!"

With her delicate hand, she pointed to a huge mass of black dots which were steadily growing larger against the pale blue sky.

"How high they are," she said. "And look-there are others over there."

I stared at the double apparition bearing down on the city and on us.

"My God, how many there are!" The noise grew louder and louder. "There must be hundreds of them!"

"It's impossible to count," Paula said. "They're still too far away." I began to feel afraid-for us, for her, for my happiness.

"We've got to get away from here, Paula. It could get very dangerous."

"Oh no," she said, unconcerned. "What would happen to us here?" "We could be strafed, Paula. We've got to find a shelter."

I tried to drag her after me.

"Look," she said, fascinated by the spectacle of danger growing visibly larger. "They're coming straight at us. And look at the white trails they make. Isn't it strange!"

Now our flak went into action. On all sides, thousands of guns were spitting steel at the attackers.

"Come quick," I said to Paula, tugging her hand. "We've got to get to a shelter."

The shelters at the airfield were too far away for us now, so I pulled her toward a hollow in the ground, beside a large tree.

"Where are our fighters?" cried Paula, gasping for breath.

"Perhaps they've run away-there are so many enemy planes."

"You mustn't say that! German soldiers never run away!"

"But what can they do, Paula? There must be at least a thousand bombers."

"You have no right to say that about our heroic pilots!"

"Forgive me, Paula-you're right. I would be astonished if they ran away."

The thunder of bombs once again filled the air of the martyred city. German soldiers never run away. I, who had run from the Don to Kharkov, knew that perfectly well-although it must be admitted that German soldiers could fight against odds as great as thirty to one as in Russia, for instance. From the hole into which Paula and I had dived, we were able to watch the avalanche which flattened a third of the airfield and ninety percent of Tempelhof.

The daytime raids were always stronger than the ones at night. On that particular day, eleven hundred British and American planes attacked the Berlin region, opposed by roughly sixty fighters. The heavy American losses were caused largely by flak: at least a hundred planes were shot down. The German fighters had not run away: not a single German plane came through undamaged.

I can still see very clearly the whistling clusters of bombs falling seven or eight thousand feet onto Tempelhof and the airfield, and feel the earth trembling under their giant blows. I can see the ground cracking, and houses bursting into flame, and the oil depots near the field spreading the flames over hundreds of yards. . . . I can see a suburb of 150,000 people blotted out in a blanket of smoke. And with my eyes involuntarily wide from the shock, I can see trees tearing upward from the ground in groups of ten or twelve, and hear them ripping open the earth. I can hear doomed planes roaring their engines, and see them spinning, exploding, falling. And I can see the terror in Paula's eyes, as she pressed herself against me. Flaming debris was falling all around us, so we made ourselves as small as we could at the bottom of our hole. Paula hid her face between my shoulder and my cheek, and I could feel her trembling, quite apart from the trembling of the earth.

Pressed together like two lost children, we watched helplessly. Long after the planes had gone, delayed-action bombs were exploding in Tempelhof, where the raid had taken twenty-two thousand lives. Berlin had received a battering too, and its rescue services were completely overwhelmed. The streets were still strewn with wreckage from the night raid, Spandau was still burning, and in the southwest quarter of the city delayed-action bombs were still exploding fifteen hours later. Tempelhof was shrieking with pain.

When we stumbled from our hole, haggard with exhaustion, Paula clung to my arm. Her nerves were strained to their utmost, and she couldn't stop trembling.

"Guille," she said. "I feel terrible. And look at me-I'm filthy." She seemed to have lost control of her reason. Her head fell back on my shoulder. Without even thinking, I kissed her on the forehead. She made no effort to stop me.

I was unable to reassemble the thoughts which had obsessed me at the beginning of our walk. I no longer felt any hesitation about kissing my friend: we seemed to have passed beyond the stage of infantile flirting. I kissed her hair as if I were consoling an anxious child, and saw, through her tears, the tears of the child in Magdeburg, shaking with sobs. I thought of Ernst, of all the tears in this war, and all the anguish. I tried to feel pity, and to show it. My happiness was mixed with too much suffering. I couldn't simply accept it, and forget all the rest. My love for Paula seemed somehow impossible, in this setting of permanent chaos. As long as children were crying in the dust of their crumbled homes, I would never be able to live with my love. Nothing seemed certain. Perhaps nothing would survive this marvelous spring day except my love for Paula-and I didn't know how to declare it.

Three-quarters of the sky was darkened by smoke from the thousands of fires which were burning at Tempelhof, along the autobahns, and in Berlin. I looked from Paula's blond hair to the ravaged landscape.

Once more, we fell down on the grass. I didn't know what to say to comfort her. When we had regained some of our strength, we walked slowly down the autobahn. There, truckloads of rescue workers were driving toward Tempelhof. Without any signal, a truck stopped beside us.

"Come on, you young ones. They need you down there."

We looked at each other.

"Yes. We're just coming." "Paula, I'll help you climb up."

The trucks were picking up everyone they met. One section of the city was abandoned so that another, at least, might be saved. We worked for hours, pulling out the wounded. The Hitlerjugend from a nearby hostel volunteered for the most dangerous jobs, in search of heroism. Many of them were killed, disappearing in the torrential collapse of burning timber frames.

We managed to find a refuge late that night, in an apartment that had been three-quarters destroyed. Dizzy with fatigue, we collapsed onto a bed, and lay there, too tired to speak, staring into the darkness with wide-open eyes. Thousands of luminous butterflies seemed to be dancing in front of us. They looked as solid and tangible as living creatures. My retina, stamped with the lights of the fires, continued to light my inner vision. One of Paula's hands twisted a button on my dusty tunic.

"Do you think we can sleep here?" she said. "I don't know, but anyway ... "

"If anyone found us here, we might get into trouble." What could she be thinking of?

"I don't care. I'm too tired."

Paula, who was sucking one of her skinned fingers, said nothing. I slid my hand under her head, and fully prepared to affront God or the Devil, pulled her to me, kissing her passionately, as her torn hands stroked my hair. We were trying to catch up with what life had denied us that afternoon, but quickly succumbed to sleep, overcome by exhaustion.

We spent all next day cleaning up. It took about a week to restore some kind of functional order. However, in the evening, we were relieved by fresh volunteers, who had been rounded up so that the first group could return to their usual occupations. Luckily for me, I was not impressed into any obligatory duties, although as a soldier on leave I was not involved in any essential activities.

Two more days went by, during which I hardly left Paula's side. Every morning I brought a fresh supply of chocolates and cigarettes from my father's package for us to consume together. The capital was binding up its wounds and burying its dead. Long funeral processions twisted through the streets. The heroic city was returning to its usual productive rhythm.

I only had five days left, and felt oppressed and anguished by the prospect of departure. Paula, who dreaded it as much as I did, tried to fill my mind with other thoughts. Luckily, there were no further raids. The Neubachs had lost all their windows, and had to repair a section of their roof. Three bombs had fallen only 150 yards away, on the square, which now looked like a street in Minsk.

Paula's mother, whom I had met, began to think it rather strange that her daughter never left my side-we met every evening, as well as every day-but she took the times into account, and raised no objection. Paula, who had more money than I did, took me to the movies one evening. We saw a film called Immen See, based on a poem about water lilies.

We lived this way until the day of my departure. I was due at the Silesian station at seven in the evening. The Neubachs were touching in their expressions of good will when I said goodbye to them. They understood that I wished to spend my last hours with the girl they considered my fiancée. Frau Neubach insisted on giving me a heavy pullover which had belonged to Ernst. Her husband gave me cigars, soap, and two boxes of tinned food. They both embraced me, and made me promise to come and see them on my next leave. I assured them I would, and that I'd send them my news from time to time. I asked them to look out for Paula.

"You love her, don't you?" Frau Neubach asked me gently.

"Oh yes, Frau Neubach." Despite an attempt at calm, my voice rang with emotion.

I kissed them both, and left. At the reception center, the feld gave Paula permission to go up to the dormitory with me and help me pack.

I could feel my throat knotting with sorrow. How long would it be before I saw Paula again? We repeated over and over again how much we loved each other, and began to feel somewhat calmer. I would certainly have another leave in three or four months, and Paula, of course, would wait for me. She swore that she would write to me every day, that soon we would belong to each other, that we would marry. Her warm lips murmured this to me a thousand times as we kissed. The war must end soon ... it can't go on like this. We can't have another horrible winter like the one last year. Everyone had suffered more than enough, and the fighting would have to stop: we felt sure of it.

We arrived at the Silesian station, to find that the departure platform had been moved to another position half a mile away because of bomb damage. Paula walked beside me, smiling despite her emotion. She was carrying a package which she wanted to give me at the last minute. The platform was decorated with pennants and flags to salute the long line of men returning to the East. We stopped beside the first carriage of the Poznan train. I shoved my bulging sack inside, and turned back to catch a moment of unguarded sadness on Paula's face.

"Don't be sad, beloved. I love you so much."

I stood for a long time, holding her hands, unable to think of anything else to say. I longed to hold her in my arms, but this was forbidden in public. People walked by, talking. The cement platform rang with the sound of the metaled boots of fellows in the same position as myself. But my eyes were glued to Paula: I was oblivious of everyone and everything else.

The hour of departure had almost arrived. A shiver ran through my body, and made my hands tremble. A stationmaster in a red cap was walking down the platform calling out the stops ahead: Poznan, Warsaw, Lublin, Lvov, Russia. These words crushed my sense of happiness. I braced myself for the whistle which would interrupt our last moment.

"Paula . . ."

The stationmaster continued his list of distant destinations.

"Paula ... What would it have been without you?"

"Auf Wiedersehen, mein Lieber," Paula whispered, in tears.

"Paula, I beg you ... don't cry . . . please . . . You know I'll be back soon."