He knows, Max thought.
“I remember this one,” Stalling said, patting the dog on the head. “Nia, right?”
“Ja.”
Nia looked up at Stalling and thumped her tail, as if she recognized him.
“I was at the school the day Nia arrived. She was in horrible shape. It was Anna who convinced Herr Fleck to try to save her.”
Max smiled.
“It looks like she’s become a stellar guide dog.”
“The best, sir,” Max said.
“Well, Maximilian,” Stalling said. “Since you’re here, how about I get you some warm broth. It isn’t much, but it’ll warm your belly. And then I’ll check you over.”
“There’s no need, sir. I’m feeling much better.”
Stalling placed his hand on Max’s shoulder. “Come. I’ll join you while you have some broth, and tell you a story about my inspiration to open the guide dog school. I think you’ll like it.”
“All right,” Max said. He clasped Nia’s harness and they walked with Stalling down a long hallway. They traveled past a medic, who was pushing a gurney with a moaning patient. Max’s heart rate accelerated. A memory of his chlorine-gassed eyes being doused with saline flashed in his head. He buried thoughts of the past and patted Nia. And he hoped that his detour inside the hospital wouldn’t cause him to be late for his meeting with Anna.
CHAPTER32
LILLE, FRANCE—FEBRUARY15, 1917
Bruno, standing on a hill with a battery of howitzers, raised his field binoculars and scanned the night battlefield. An Allied star shell shot up, illuminating a vast area of no-man’s-land, covered in shell holes, barbed wire, and mutilated corpses. The front was still, except for the sporadic bark of machine guns. But everything would change in ten minutes, when the German artillery commenced a bombardment. He lowered his binoculars. A cold sweat formed on Bruno’s forehead. His chest felt hollow, as if his heart had been carved out and buried in Oldenburg. He imagined an Allied gas shell exploding near him and—instead of slipping on his respirator—entering the yellow cloud and inhaling the poison.
Bruno, distraught and grief-stricken, had left Oldenburg the evening he confessed his lies to Anna. It was over, he knew, and there was nothing he could say or do that could exonerate him from his heinous acts.I’ve already hurt her horribly, and she doesn’t yet know about Celeste,he’d thought while boarding the train. Although he believed that Anna would never do anything to harm herself, he prayed that she wouldn’t suffer the same level of despair as Haber’s wife. And it sickened Bruno to think that, in his futile attempt to rationalize the use of poison gas, he’d repeated Haber’s mantra to the woman he loved.Death is death, regardless of how it is inflicted.
His dream of having a life with Anna was shattered. And on his journey back to the front, he’d reflected on their relationship, which had been mainly comprised of absence from each other’s lives. Their brief courtship, followed by a spontaneous engagement, had been sustained by letters containing hopes and promises. He’d kept his family’s business and his role in the Disinfection Unit a secret. It was naïve of him, he believed, to think that his monstrous acts—which might someday result in him being tried for war crimes—could indefinitely be hidden from Anna. Also, he’d been unfaithful to her, and he would soon father a war baby. Ravaged with shame, he’d attempted to write Anna a letter but the words eluded him. And he hoped that he would someday find the courage to tell her how sorrowful he would always be for hurting her.
Bruno, desperate to alleviate his guilt, wished that he could assign blame to someone, or something, for toppling the first domino of his cascading demise. The war and the constant exposure to death, of course, had taken a toll on him. Hisvaterhad arranged for him to be recruited by Haber for his special chemical unit, which ultimately led to Bruno gassing hundreds, if not thousands, of soldiers. He’d sold his soul to Haber in order to gain a chance of being seen by his father as equal to his half-brother, Julius, which would give him a place in the family business. Now, he wanted no part of hisvater’s company, even if the production of chlorine gas to the military stopped at the end of the war. There were people and circumstances that Bruno could fault for his plight. However, he blamed only himself for his sins.
Bruno had spent the remaining days of his military leave in Lille with Celeste, but they did not share a bed. Instead, he remained confined to his room, with the exception of meals and walks with Celeste. Unable to carry the burden of more lies, he’d told her everything that had happened between him and Anna. Also, he informed her of his family’s business of providing poison gas to the military, and his role in chemical warfare, which was of little surprise to her given Bruno’s association with Fritz Haber, whom she knew well from his visits to her boardinghouse. Although she was appalled by his actions, she didn’t rebuke him.Despite what I’ve done, she prefers to remain with me because I’m the father of her baby, or she fears being ostracized by her family for being a collaborator. But he didn’t care. Celeste, he believed, was his only friend, and she was pregnant. Although it was impossible to make amends for all of his wrongdoings, he was determined to do the right thing for Celeste and their unborn baby. Therefore, he used his remaining time with Celeste to discuss plans for her and their child. And by the time he had to return to the front, he’d convinced her to go with him to Germany after the war. She’d accompanied him to the train station, where he kissed her goodbye and reassured her—despite a foreboding ache in his gut—that they and their child would have lives of fortune and comfort.
“Sir,” a soldier said, approaching Bruno.
Bruno turned.
The soldier glanced at his watch. “Two minutes until we commence fire, sir.”
“Take your post,” Bruno ordered.
The soldier saluted, and then squelched through the mud to take his position at a howitzer. To the rear of the artillery line, there were vast stacks of artillery shells, many of which were marked with a green cross.
How much of myvater’s poison will be dispensed tonight?Bruno wondered, staring at the multitude of shells.
Instead of seeking shelter in his bunker, Bruno made his way to a clearing, twenty meters behind a cannon. Seconds passed and the battery of howitzers fired, sending shellfire toward the enemy lines. His eardrums pounded. The earth quaked. An acrid smell of explosives burned his nostrils. He watched soldiers load shell after shell into the cannons. Blazing streaks shot through the atmosphere at various angles and trajectories.The barrels of our cannons are so badly worn that we cannot accurately hit our targets.
Bruno observed the bombardment, all the while waiting, perhaps even hoping, for the enemy to return shellfire. Soon, Allied forces commenced their retaliation. And while fountains of earth and iron sprayed into the air around him, Bruno remained on the hill, making certain that one in three shells loaded into the cannons contained poison gas.
CHAPTER33
OLDENBURG, GERMANY—FEBRUARY20, 1917
Anna, wearing her best Sunday dress beneath a tattered wool coat, accompanied Max and Nia into the barn for the graduation day ceremony. Attendees—comprised of trainers, veterans and their guide dogs, and board members of the German Red Cross Ambulance Dogs Association—gathered near the woodstove. Unlike typical school graduations, there were no diplomas, caps and gowns, or family attendees. The only outsider invited to the ceremony was a photographer, who was setting up a backdrop in a straw-covered stall.
