OLDENBURG, GERMANY—JANUARY28, 1917
Max, struggling to concentrate, traveled over a series of logs on the obstacle course with Nia. Anna followed closely behind them while Fleck, scribbling notes onto a clipboard, sat on a stool near the barn. For much of the morning, Anna had been silent, other than to provide instruction. Even on their walk to school, she’d said little to him or Emmi, other than to inform her friend that Bruno had arrived in Oldenburg.Something is troubling her, he thought, locating a felled log with his cane.When she’s ready to talk, I’ll be here for her.
With his mind on Anna, Max made several mistakes throughout the day, including a near fall while navigating a simulated up-curb, made from bricks, which earned him a lecture from Fleck on being attentive while training. Thankfully, Nia guided him flawlessly, with the exception of some hobbling due to her frail paw, otherwise he would have made far more errors. He thought that Anna would become more talkative as the day wore on, and that her spirits might improve if Bruno came to the school grounds to observe as Norbie had suggested. But as far as Max could tell, Bruno had not arrived. And as hours passed, her solitude grew worse.
Max, unable to contain his concern, turned toward Anna and asked, “Would you like to talk about what’s bothering you?”
Anna glanced to the other groups, all of whom were out of earshot. “Nothing is bothering me.”
“You’re quiet,” he said.
“I’m merely tired.”
He continued his walk with Nia. “How was your evening with Bruno?”
“Fine.”
He waited for her to say more, but only heard the crunch of snow beneath her boots. As he debated in his head whether to probe further, she quickened her pace and reached his side.
“Well, if I’m honest,” she said, “our conversation was a bit uncomfortable at times.”
“Oh,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
“He seemed distracted, with the exception of gaining time away together, which is not an option considering my work. Some of the things that I’d written him about in my letters were forgotten, and I was hurt that he didn’t remember—” She drew a deep breath. “Never mind.”
Yourmutter, he thought. “Helga?”
“Ja,” she said, her voice soft.
“That must have been rough for you to hear.”
“It was.”
Max recalled the somber timbre of Bruno’s voice. The man’s dour tone reminded Max of the many despondent soldiers that he’d encountered in Ypres who were on the brink of being broken by war. He wondered if Anna or Norbie had recognized the same thing, or if his combat experience, combined with his reliance on hearing due to blindness, had made him more keenly aware of Bruno’s mental state.
“It takes time for one to adjust from being at the front,” he said. “I’m sure you already know this from your work at the hospital, but it might feel different when you’re in the thick of it.”
“True.” She walked with him and Nia around a pile of snow.
“One day, a soldier is fighting for his life, and two days later—after a year of witnessing death in hellacious conditions—he’s back home, sitting at the kitchen table. To a soldier, the change in environment is a shock. Your head is foggy and your emotions are numb, as if your brain was injected with anesthetic.”
“You sound like you’re speaking from experience,” she said.
“I am,” he said. “And I can tell you that things can get better with time.”
“I hope so.”
“They will,” he said. “I believe that good things happen to people with good hearts—and yours, Anna, is made of gold.”
“You’re sweet.” She clasped Nia’s harness, placing her hand next to Max’s. “Speaking of good things, it was lovely of you to sleep on the cot in the workshop instead of Norbie.”
“I’m glad to do it.”
“Did the ticking and chiming of clocks keep you awake last night?”
“Nein,” he said. “But the march music is still stuck in my head.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said.
