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Against this ugly backdrop, the Reich’s delusion of hope continued. Cars drove through the streets with speakers on their roofs, blaring reminders to protect our homes and streets at any cost. New propaganda posters appeared on telegraph poles and in letter boxes. Defiant to the end, Hitler continued to incite us to violence in his name.
Laura held one of these posters in her hand at breakfast one morning.
“What’s the plan, Mama? How shall we defend our home from the enemy?”
She was thirteen years old. The Nazis had been in power since she was a toddler. How would I ever explain to Laura and Georg why we allowed them to become immersed in this world of idol worship and hate?
I again did the calculation—Gestapo. Loyalty. Imprisonment.This time, the city was in such chaos that I felt sure the Gestapo would be busy elsewhere—probably trying to save their own necks. Comforted, I took my first baby step toward a future where Laura and I could connect on honest terms.
“The war is over,” I said gently. “We have lost.”
“But, Mama—” Laura held aloft the poster, as if I might have missed seeing it “—we must defend our street and our home to the last. See? We cannot allow them to simply take our city.”
“Others will fight. This war has taken enough from this family.”
“What on earth do you mean?” She looked around, genuinely bewildered. “We’ve lost nothing!”
I stood abruptly.
“Everything you think you know is untrue. Just like an infant, you are going to have to learn how to interpret the things that you have seen and heard.”
Six-year-old Gisela was seated beside me. She reached to take my hand.
“Don’t fight,” she said. “I’m scared already. Please let’s don’t fight.”
“We aren’t fighting, baby,” I told her softly. “It’s okay to be scared. Laura and I are scared, and wherever they are, I bet Papa and Georg are scared too.”
“I’m going to tell them at my League meeting,” Laura hissed. “Theyalwaysask if our families are loyal. The Gestapo will come for you. That’s what you deserve for saying these hateful things.”
“There will be no more League meetings,” I snapped. “They are readying us to fight with our bare hands. If they cared about us at all, they would tell us to prepare our white flags and to welcome the Soviets. All there is left to do is accept the reality that we were on the wrong side and we lost.”
“Why are you talking like this?” Laura cried, her eyes filling with tears. She pushed her chair back and ran from the room, dropping the poster as she left. It fluttered slowly to the ground and drifted under the table. I heard her furious footsteps on the stairs, and then the sound of her door slamming as she ran into her bedroom.
I was tired and worried about Georg and Jürgen and sick of every moment being a battle. I exhaled slowly, dropping my forehead to the table. Gisela squeezed my hand.
“Mama, is everything going to be okay? Do you really promise it will?”
I reached for Gisela, pulling her onto my lap and wrapping my arms around her waist. She turned to rest her head on my shoulder, winding her arms around my neck.
“It is going to be difficult for a little while longer,” I replied. “We just have to be brave until things get better.”
I had just slipped into bed that night when I heard a car parking on the road outside. I assumed it was someone arriving for a neighbor, but then I heard a soft knock at the front door. Thinking it might be Georg, I flew out of bed and down the stairs to open it.
Jürgen was on the doorstep. He desperately needed a shave and, as I discovered when I threw my arms around him, a shower.
“I’m so happy to see you,” I cried. “Where on earth have you been?”
He offered a weary smile.
“The whole team was sent to a ski resort in Bavaria to await further instructions. In the chaos as they were leaving, I stole this car and started making my way back here.”
“Lydia thinks she’s going to America.”
“Well, I’m afraid Lydia may be in for a shock, because Karl surrendered to the Soviets weeks ago,” Jürgen said, as he hung his filthy hat on the coatrack. I gingerly scooped it off and set it near his suitcase on the ground.
“That needs a wash.” I waved my hand vaguely over the general direction of his body. “Allof you needs a wash.” But then I paused and gasped. “Did you say Karl surrendered to the Soviets?”
“He tried to convince me to go with him. When I refused, he assembled a group of the other scientists, including Aldo, and fled like a rat on a sinking ship. Karl’s an SS officer and war criminal, for God’s sake, just as I am. Why would anyone pardon us? He’s probably in some miserable Soviet prison right now, just where he belongs.” Jürgen sighed and shook his head. “Even if they didoffer him refuge for some unfathomable reason, what good is freedom to Karl? He had to abandon his wife and children to get it.”
