The Last Shot (6 page)

I kept in touch with Anke and Jürgen. On the rare occasions that they came back to Düusseldorf on a weekend, they came to visit me. Once every two years only. We would spend the night out in a restaurant talking, drinking. We kept in touch by post mainly. Or by phone. Every year I sent a gift for Alexander on his birthday: 1 October. And Anke would write me a short, impulsive letter back just to let me know they were alive. If I didn’t get a letter I could expect a call sooner or later.

They were very happy in Münster. Jürgen was doing extremely well in his father’s practice. Though Anke sometimes complained that she didn’t see enough of him. And occasionally, she hinted that she would like to be back in her city for a while. But Jürgen would never move back to Düsseldorf. Anyway, it was out of the question because of the new practice.

Once, Anke sent a photograph of herself and Alexander to keep me up to date. She hadn’t changed a bit. Though I would not have said that in a letter. My letters were strictly neutral. They were addressed to both Jürgen and Anke, usually in that order. The kind of neutral letters which are read out over the breakfast table before they collect jam stains. This is one of her letters. It was sent when Alexander was three years old. Far from neutral, I thought.

Got your present for Alex, thank you very much. Though I don’t quite know what he is going to do with it. All toys eventually drive us mad because
it
only reminds us of his limitations. A toy is like a test to a child’s limits. The joy that most parents get is watching their children break down those limits. Jürgen and I, we have to make exceptions for everything. Of course I’m very grateful that you remember Alexander’s birthday like this every year. Sometimes I get the urge to talk to somebody else about
our life, somebody outside the family, somebody not directly involved…

Anke had never said anything like this to me about Alexander’s difficulties before. She would never even refer to his having Down’s Syndrome. She had told me that Alexander was going to a special school, and occasionally described his retardation and lack of progress on the phone when I asked her, but she always painted a picture of extreme patience. I would never have thought she was anything less than completely happy. It came as a total surprise. The letter ended like this:

Sometimes I want to be back in Düsseldorf. Or in the Eifel. I think about you. I think about my other life.

Anke

On 6 May, the German Army was still in occupation at Laun. And they still occupied the protectorate of Czechoslovakia. By a thread.

Overnight, German planes had flown over the capital of Prague raining down leaflets appealing to the inhabitants to submit, or pay for it in blood. The leaflets promised that no Czech would be harmed and that the German Army wished only to engage the real enemy: the Red Army. Later on, the same planes flew over Prague again with a more persuasive message: phosphor bombs. SS units with tanks approached from the south to regain control of the city, following orders literally: ‘the whole nest has to burn’.

In Laun, the German Wehrmacht training garrison became actively involved in the war for the first time. Early that morning, local observers from the town posted to watch the garrison overnight came back to report to the committee at the U Somolu pub that large troop movements were seen leaving in the direction of Hriskov. At least six or seven trucks full of soldiers. There was nothing the committee could do but warn the people at Hriskov by phone. Nothing Laun could do but wait.

Bertha Sommer had not been up to see Hauptmann Selders give the order to send out troops. She arrived to find the office in a frenzy of activity. She was there in time to see the trucks leaving; in time to feel a futile compassion for all those young recruits heading in the direction of the fighting. South. East. Into the hands of the Red Army.

Bertha had given up her own final chance to escape the end. But instead of becoming dismal, she decided to become useful. She took up the task of keeping in touch with other garrisons around Bohemia, to see what their information was. Garrisons
like Trutnov, which had also taken a stand against the Czechs with hostages.

It became clear by now that Officer Franz Kern had begun to play the most important role of all. As radio engineer, he was the lifeline to the outer world. Every twenty minutes, he appeared in the office with fresh news. Reports from Prague or from Moscow; sometimes even as far away as London.

Bertha had not spoken to him since their escape failed. She wanted to catch his eye, to get some acknowledgement. She wanted to let him know that she had tried to escape with him the night before. It was the rain. She wanted him to know that she had not informed on him. But Officer Kern seemed too preoccupied. Their eyes met only in passing. There was no communication between them. No signal.

When she eventually found an excuse to go out into the corridor, she was hoping to catch him and speak to him briefly. With the Third Reich collapsing around them, she invented a reason to meet him alone for a moment, but he would not let her speak. He placed his index finger over his lips. He didn’t want to hear.

‘I know,’ was all he said.

That was enough for Bertha. What it was he knew wasn’t clear. But he must have known that she had not betrayed him. She went back to her work.

During the day, the activity in the office intensified apace with the war outside. There was talk of capitulation. But General Schörner wanted more valour and sent out personal messages to his men over the radio:
‘Soldiers. You must break every resistance from the Czechs with the heaviest weapons.’

Very soon after that, Officer Kern came back into the office with another message, this time broadcast by the free Czech radio. It had been put out repeatedly in three different languages:
‘Prague calling. Here is free Prague. Red Army
 – 
send help. We need tanks and planes. Don’t let us go down in a useless struggle. Help, quick, quick, quick.’

It is significant that Prague began to call on the Russians,
instead of the Americans, who had been closer to Prague for days. At one point, a report broadcast by the BBC in London said that the American Army at Pilsen had begun to move on Prague. But the report was misleading. Nothing could lure the Americans to get involved in what had already become a Soviet state.

For the Germans, it meant that all hope of surrendering to the Americans had faded. Second best, they would have to surrender to the Russians.

That evening, straight after dinner, Bertha Sommer went to her room to rest. There was nothing she could do at the office any more. She took her washbag and towel and went to the washrooms on her landing to wash her hair, and after that her feet. She had just got back to her room when she heard footsteps in the corridor outside her door. She could hear a knock on the room next door which she knew to be unoccupied. She stopped combing her hair and listened. When there was no answer, the footsteps came and approached her own door. She waited for the knock and then went to answer it, opening up a little so that only her face could be seen around the door. It was Officer Kern.

‘Ah, Fräulein Sommer. I didn’t know which room was yours. I’ve got to speak to you for a moment.’

She didn’t know whether this was an order or a request. This was not a good idea, his coming to her room, she thought. She looked past him to see if there was anyone else in the corridor. But the building had been largely empty since the civilian population moved out. Her hair was wet and she stood there feeling awkward in her dressing-gown and slippers, waiting for him to speak. She was glad at last to be able to explain to him what happened the night before, but felt it wouldn’t be right to invite him inside.

‘I’m afraid we might be overheard in the corridor,’ he said. ‘I won’t stay long, Fräulein Sommer, I promise.’ He understood her reluctance.

‘Wait. Let me get dressed.’

He stood outside and heard her moving around inside the room. As soon as he heard the sound of clothes, he began to pace up and down to give her complete privacy. Bertha checked
herself in the mirror and considered the implications of letting a man into her room. The war is a time for exceptions. She looked around to make sure that the room was tidy and reminded herself not to speak too soon. Let him speak first, she said to herself.

‘Forgive me, Fräulein Sommer,’ Kern said as he entered the room. ‘But I felt I had to speak to you. What happened last night doesn’t matter.’

‘I tried to go,’ she broke in, already disregarding her own first rule.

‘I know,’ he replied. ‘I saw you. I saw you turn back. You were right. There was no other way. I was worried that somebody else might have seen you too. Now I’m sure nobody did.’

‘I saw the Red Cross vehicle leave.’

‘Yes,’ Officer Kern said. ‘It doesn’t matter. What happens now is more important. It is too dangerous to make any new plans to escape. We should wait for a ceasefire and hope for the best. I know the Red Army is approaching from the north. They’re not far away. But our best bet is to stay. The hostages here give us some protection.’

Bertha was taken aback by the way Officer Kern included her so presumptuously in his plans. At the same time it reassured her. There was something she wanted to ask him, but she had forgotten what. She let him speak.

‘There is great hostility against the Germans. I’ve heard reports from London about…terrible things. About the Jews in the camps. I thought it was all propaganda at first. But now, I’m beginning to believe it. No imagination could invent what they’re saying about us.’

Officer Kern checked himself. It was not something he wanted to talk about. He had listened to the radio too much.

‘I’m sorry. Fräulein Sommer, the last thing I want is to alarm you, but when this war is over, even when the ceasefire is called, I know the Russians won’t stop. They will overrun all of Czechoslovakia and take as many of the German troops as
possible. Hauptmann Selders is playing a clever game with the hostages. Maybe that will save us. But after that, it’s every man for himself.’

Officer Kern spoke as though he had seen everything happen before.

‘Fräulein Sommer, I want you to know that the bicycle is at your disposal.’

Bertha laughed. Maybe it was a nervous laugh. She felt she had done him an injustice, and tried to be serious. But the idea of fleeing from the Russians on a bicycle seemed too funny. Officer Kern smiled.

‘I’m sorry,’ Bertha said. ‘I’m only laughing at the idea of trying to escape on a bicycle.’

‘Believe me, Fräulein Sommer, when this war is over, the roads from here to Kempen will be so stuffed with people, nothing will move faster than a tortoise. In fact, it is my guess that the bicycle will be the fastest mode of transport. Believe me, when they call a ceasefire, every cart with wheels left on it will be out there going home.’

Bertha felt the intimacy by which he spoke the name of her home town, Kempen. She thanked him. It was as though he had undertaken to deliver her home to her family. Officer Kern said he would make all the arrangements to get the bicycles put on trucks for the first part of the journey to Eger. The Americans were at Eger, he said. She thanked him again, placing all her faith in him. She wanted to tell him that with her prayers and his intuition, they would both get home safely. But then she remembered once more that he was standing in her room.

It was awkward. A man in her bedroom. Then she remembered what it was she wanted to ask.

‘Why did you stay?’

He looked puzzled. Perhaps he hadn’t thought of an answer yet.

‘Why didn’t you leave when you had the chance?’

‘I couldn’t,’ he said. ‘To be honest, I had second thoughts.’

Officer Kern hesitated. The subject made him uneasy. He chose his words carefully.

‘When you didn’t arrive, when I could see that you weren’t coming, I thought about it again. I felt I would not only be letting you down, but everyone else in the garrison as well. I thought about it all last night. I felt I would have betrayed everyone, not the Fatherland or Germany or anything like that; not the Reich, that doesn’t matter to me or to anyone now. No, I thought it would have been cowardly to leave. I felt it was not the right time to betray, just hours before the end.’

He stopped. He could have gone on spilling forth his reasons. He looked at her and decided to be lighthearted instead.

‘…And as well as that, the weather wasn’t very good.’

Bertha laughed.

‘Now, if you forgive me, I must go back to work,’ Kern said, looking around the room. He saw her bag on the table and said, ‘I see you’re packed. Very good.’

Bertha nodded. It was a private matter whether or not she was packed, but she said nothing.

Officer Kern moved towards the door, but instead of opening it himself, he allowed her to open it and peer into the corridor to see if anyone was out there. All clear. She let him out and felt there was something terribly clandestine about doing so. Something which bound them together in a subversive liaison.

‘Sleep well,’ he whispered.

‘Good night,’ she replied, as officially as possible. Sleep was not the right word.

By the time Bertha woke up the following morning of 7 May, the German High Command had surrendered officially on all fronts. The ceasefire was set for midnight of the next day, the 8th. They could fight away to their hearts’ content until then. General Schörner again didn’t agree, and sent out a radio broadcast saying that reports of capitulation were nonsense. During the morning the Americans personally flew a German messenger from the German High Command into Prague airport in order to convince Schörner to give it up. He didn’t. SS men went on the rampage in the city, killing and ordering civilians to dismantle the 2,000 barricades they had put up in the streets.

The battle for the Hriskov arms dump was eventually won by the German troops from Laun around midday on the 7th. But it was an empty victory because they immediately began to flee back to Laun from the approaching Russians, leaving dozens of dead and wounded comrades as well as Czech insurgents behind them.

Sometime during the day, General Schörner took a plane and flew to Austria, where he crash-landed and handed himself over to the Americans, leaving his troops still fighting off the Red Army.

Nobody slept much the next night either. After the ceasefire at midnight, the Czechs were told to shoot only when fired on.

On the following morning, the 8th, the Germans in Prague eventually agreed their own ceasefire with the Czechs. The terms were such that the troops would keep their weapons until they got to the German border. They would not sabotage the weapons but would leave them by the roadside along with all ammunition. The retreating German troops would take only enough food to last the journey and leave everything else intact
behind them. In return, the Czechs would allow them to retreat unhindered. The people in the towns would make way for a peaceful withdrawal.

By early morning, the first trucks began to move out of the garrison at Laun. The square was filled with the smell of diesel. The first and last trucks of the convoy carried Czech hostages. Bertha Sommer and Officer Franz Kern were somewhere in the middle. Kern was still monitoring the radio to keep the units informed about the position of the Russians. They were coming from the north and could only be around thirty kilometres, even less, behind them.

The convoy of trucks drove through the town of Laun and out along the road to Postelberg. The people of Laun came out to see them leaving. Some of the men had thrown out the old German street signs, forcing the German trucks to pass over them. A small group of women and children stood on the square, watching. They had really gathered there to welcome the liberating Red Army, who were expected to arrive very soon. The people were silent, waiting to cheer the arrival of the Russians. The only one smiling was a boy with Down’s Syndrome standing with his mother in the square, waving his hand with excitement at the German trucks as they disappeared out of the town.

The roads were already crowded with people on the move. Everything moved slowly.

Around lunchtime, the hostages were released in the town of Postelberg, about twenty kilometres away. Officer Kern heard further reports on his field radio that the fighting in Prague was continuing. The Germans were bombing the city from the air. One radio report said the Hradċany palace in Prague had been deliberately set on fire by the SS. But this turned out to be false.

Officer Kern then heard a message go out to the Czech people telling them to clear the way for the Russian troops so that they could head off the German withdrawal. The free Czech radio appealed to the Russians to give chase.

‘Catch the German murderers and kill them if they resist.’