Authors: John Anthony Miller
York walked to Max’s boarding house, wearing an overcoat and scarf, almost oblivious to the bombed buildings that had become Berlin’s landscape. He stopped frequently, leaning on his cane and turning abruptly, wary of being followed, but he didn’t see the man who had trailed him during his last visit. Maybe he had been killed in the air raid.
Much of the debris had been cleared from the main roads, pushed into high piles where houses had stood, but the smaller avenues looked the same as they had after the bombs had been dropped. Residents combed through wreckage, collecting personal belongings, seeing what could be salvaged, still dazed and shaken, anxious and afraid.
York stopped to look at one residence where a piano sat on a heap of debris. It was originally on an upper elevation but had fallen through the collapsed floor. Two broken chairs and a lamp were beside it, a mattress still covered in sheets and blankets a few meters away. Ceiling joists lay haphazardly where they had fallen, broken plaster coating everything.
The blocks he walked didn’t look the same, the levels of damage were different, but in stores and houses that were still intact, life went on. People slept and went to work and school, shopped in stores and ate in cafes. For some, it was like nothing had happened. For others, their lives had changed forever.
York walked into Max’s hotel, finding little damage from the bombing. The buildings on each side were also intact, while those farther down the road were destroyed. He entered the lobby, finding it vacant, then hurried up the stairs. He noticed a framed portrait of Bismarck on the wall. The glass was shattered; the frame was intact. It was an interesting contrast of past to present.
York went to Max’s room and rapped on the door. It opened a moment later.
“York, old boy,” he said, greeting him warmly. “Survived without a scratch, I see.”
“And you did, also,” York said, not surprised.
“Were you worried about me?”
“You’re a survivor. You always have been.”
Max smiled and motioned to a chair. “How does it look out there?”
York described the drive he had taken, and the condition of the neighborhoods and houses of those they were interested in: the Richters, Erika Jaeger, Kaiser, and the Brauns. They realized how fortunate they were to survive. Others weren’t that lucky. But both agreed it signaled the beginning of the end for the Nazis, coupled with Allied successes after invading Italy and the Russian advances on the Eastern Front. With invasions of the continent expected in the spring, the Third Reich was starting to unravel.
“Richter’s plans for the Fourth Reich are even more important now,” York said. “The end will come sooner than they expected.”
“Which makes the escape routes critical,” Max added. “The more we learn about them, the easier it’ll be to prevent Nazis from escaping.”
They were silent for a moment, reflecting. Nothing was more important than stemming the flow of Party leaders to other continents, where they planned to spread their maniacal message to unsuspecting populations. The world couldn’t survive a war fought on so many fronts.
“Have you learned anything else?” Max asked.
“You were right about Faber,” York said. “Amanda told me Richter said he was selling secrets to the Russians.”
“I’m not surprised. He was probably working with the Americans, too. He thought he was in control, but in the end, he was being controlled. It would still be nice to get the V2 rocket plans, if you’re willing to risk it. But I suppose you’re focused on the escape.”
“I might check the cemetery, just to see if it’s under surveillance. But I want to get Amanda, Erika and the children to Switzerland. Amanda is spooked by Faber’s arrest. And she’s convinced Richter is on to her.”
Max was quiet for a moment, looking out the window, studying the bare limbs of a tree. Then he shrugged. “Maybe he is.”
“All the more reason to act quickly, although I know London won’t like that.”
Max didn’t reply. He got up and went to the bed, reached underneath the mattress and removed a paper that was tucked in the wooden strut. He returned to the table.
“Don’t worry about London,” he said. “I’ll clear everything with them.” He opened a map of Germany, a path from Berlin to Switzerland marked in black ink. “I’ve taken the liberty of making some arrangements. It’s time to get you out.”
York studied the route identified. It used older roads, lesser traveled, but still offered a somewhat direct path. The Swiss border would be crossed just south of Gottmadingen, a small German hamlet.
“The border crossing is crucial,” Max said. “On Wednesday at dawn, and not at any other time, you will leave the vehicle in Germany and walk across the border. The road is Steiner Weg; it branches off the highway in Gottmadingen. It’s four or five hundred meters to the Swiss border.”
“Why is the timing so critical?”
“Because there will be no patrols anywhere near the border at dawn on Wednesday. That’s the only time I can guarantee your safety. The area may look unguarded, but it’s not. If you try to cross at any other time, you’ll get everyone killed or captured.”
“Is there anything else I should know?”
“Yes, do the escape in segments. Get out of Berlin as quickly as possible. Linger on the rural roads, stop often, hide in the forests, but don’t get anywhere near the Swiss border until very late Tuesday night or early Wednesday morning. If questioned, you’ll never be able to explain being there.”
York was pensive for a moment. “Which leaves everything resolved except a few details.”
“Agreed,” Max said. “You and Amanda and Erika, if she chooses to go, can use your existing identity papers. Given the remainder are children, and your strategy, which I think is absolutely ingenious, no further documentation is needed.”
York had shared his plan during their last visit, but Max made no comment and didn’t appear to be listening. “I’m surprised you’re impressed,” he said. “You didn’t seem interested when I told you.”
“Quite the contrary,” Max said. “I think it’s a marvelous plan. But I had to evaluate it, make sure you would be successful. What else is left?”
“I estimate we need seventy liters of petrol, assuming the vehicle has a full gas tank at the start.”
“Can Amanda provide that?”
“She says she can. But I’ll make sure the next time I see her. Manfred must have a stash somewhere. That leaves one last detail, with only a few days to solve it.”
“The vehicle,” Max said. “It’s brilliant to use an ambulance. The red cross symbol will afford some leniency in regard to search and seizure, even during the war.”
“And I think securing the rear doors, and using signs that warn we’re carrying tuberculosis patients, will prevent anyone from getting curious.”
“You’re right,” Max said. “Not a single person in Germany will investigate. At least, not anyone interested in preserving their health.”
“There’s a hospital right on Olivaer Platz. I was going to steal an ambulance the night we depart.”
“But that leaves the whole plan to chance,” Max said, rubbing his chin, thinking. “Better get the vehicle first, ensure it’s the right size, and has the correct markings.”
“And a full tank of gas.”
“Let me see if I can help with people in my other networks. If I can’t find an ambulance, maybe I can get the use of a garage. Then you can steal the vehicle earlier.”
York rose to leave. “That’s the last detail. I’ll tell Amanda and Erika we’re leaving just before dawn on Tuesday.”
“Check out the hospital. Make sure you can get an ambulance. And go to the cemetery drop. Maybe you can get the rocket plans.”
“I think everything’s coming together,” York said. “I’ll see you Friday.”
“That’s assuming the air raids don’t kill us first.”
York left the boarding house and rounded the corner, abruptly bumping into the man who followed him on his last visit. “Excuse me,” he said, stunned but trying to hide it. “I’m so sorry. I should watch where I’m going.”
The man was almost a head shorter and, even though he was stout, he was all muscle, like a bear. He peered at York from behind round spectacles, his eyes a pale blue, memorizing every aspect of York’s face. He stepped back, removed a billfold from his pocket and opened it, showing Gestapo identification.
“May I see your papers, please?” he asked.
“Yes, of course,” York stammered, reaching into his coat. He removed his papers, knowing they were in order, and handed them to the Gestapo agent.
The man peered through his spectacles, studying one document after the other, feeling the texture of the paper, even smelling the ink. When he was finished, he briefly scanned them a second time. Then he gave them back to York.
“I’ve seen you in this neighborhood several times, walking with no apparent destination,” he said. “What made me suspicious was your determination not to be followed. Why is that?”
York shrugged, feigning confusion. “I’m not sure I know what you mean. I am out walking every day,” he said, motioning to his cane. “It’s to strengthen my leg. I was hit by a machine gun in North Africa, serving with Rommel. I’ve been given a staff assignment here in Berlin while on convalescent leave.”
The man stared at him icily. He really didn’t care. “Maybe we need to get you back to the front, instead of wandering the streets, attracting the attention of the Gestapo. The Fuhrer needs good soldiers.”
“It won’t be too long, I hope,” York said, faking enthusiasm. “In another month or two I should be ready.”
The Gestapo agent nodded and stepped aside. “I’m watching you,” he said warily. “You can be certain of that.”
York tipped his hat and moved down the street. Now he had one more reason to get out of Berlin. He walked to the end of the avenue and, as he turned left at the cross street, he stole a glance behind him.
The Gestapo agent stood in the same spot, staring at him.
York walked for another block, circled it and, when he saw no sign of the Gestapo, he took the streetcar for two blocks, got off and walked around that block before summoning a taxi. He gave the driver directions to Erika Jaeger’s house. Throughout the drive he continually looked behind them, but they weren’t being followed.
York wondered how he had attracted the Gestapo’s attention, especially so close to his hotel. It significantly increased the danger they faced. What had the man seen? What had made him so suspicious? How long had he been watching?
The escape had to occur in the next week. It was too dangerous to delay any longer. There were too many close calls: Faber’s arrest, the Gestapo, Manfred Richter, Allied bombings, a different officer where he did his translations. At least now he had a definite plan, including a departure date and time. All he needed was a vehicle.
Just to be safe, he had the taxi driver let him out two blocks and one street over from Erika Jaeger’s house. Then he circled the block, ensuring no one watched, and did the same in reverse, finally coming to a stop at the door to her flat.
Erika answered the door and urged him in. She gave him a quick hug.
“Michael, I’m so relieved,” she said. “I was afraid you didn’t survive the bombing.”
“Is everyone here safe?” he asked anxiously.
“Yes,” she nodded, looking tired, as all residents of Berlin did. “But it was horrifying. What does the rest of the city look like?”
He gave her an account of his travels around western Berlin. Carefully avoiding any hint that he might know Amanda or Kaiser, he described touring their neighborhoods. He mentioned the numerous risks they faced, including his recent encounter with the Gestapo, and the need to accelerate their departure.
She listened attentively, a look of relief on her face. York wasn’t sure if she wanted her children safe from another air raid, or from the danger they faced on a daily basis, hiding from the most brutal regime in history. Or, more likely, she just wanted them safe, regardless of the threat.
“I have no way of protecting the children,” she said when he finished. “They can’t go to bomb shelters; they have to remain hidden upstairs. It’s terribly dangerous. I’ll be so relieved when they’re out of Berlin and somewhere safe.”
“This is just the beginning of the bombings,” York said, with a sense of compassion. “It’s going to get worse. And now that the Allies have a foothold in Italy, and the Russians are advancing on the Eastern Front, the end is coming. Maybe not in a year, or two, but it will come.”
Her face paled. Most Germans hadn’t considered defeat. The government had stolen enough from conquered countries to keep those in the homeland satisfied. There were few shortages, only minor rationing, and the propaganda made it seem like they were winning the war. But Allied bombings were hard to dispute. The war seemed very real when you watched your house get destroyed and your friends and neighbors die.
“Why don’t you come with us?” he asked.
She was such a marvelous person. He didn’t want her left to Allied bombings, or an invading army. He hated to think of what might happen to her after he was gone.
“I can’t,” she said, although she did seem to waver. “I have my mother to tend to.”
“You can take her, too,” York offered. “Please, at least consider it.”
“Thank you, that’s kind. But we should stay here.”
He admired her, he really did. She was brave, compassionate, caring. He just hoped she realized what might happen to those that remained in Berlin.
“There’s still time to change your mind,” he said casually, trying not to be forceful. “I really think that you should.”
She smiled weakly. “I’ll speak to my mother again.”
York scanned the apartment, knowing they were alone, and asked the question that had plagued him since their last meeting. “Tell me how you got the children.”
Her expression changed, the pain apparent. She sighed, the past running through her mind, memories unpleasant, images horrific. “I told you how I first became aware of what was happening when the child was taken from my class.”
“Yes, you did. But how did you come to hide seven children in your house, and where did Inga come from?
She was silent for a moment, never having told the story before. “When the student taken from my class died, I went to the administration office to find out what happened. The woman who tried to help me actually lived nearby, about two blocks away. I knew her. Her husband was killed near the same time as Wilhelm.”
“Was she able to do anything?”
“No, not really. She only processed paperwork. But when I explained what I thought was happening, very delicately, a knowing glance passed between us.”
“And then she started to help you?”
“Yes, although some time passed before she did. The first was a young boy. With the woman’s help, the paperwork was lost and I took him.”
“You’ve had him ever since?”
“Yes, and while the program existed, I was able to save six more.”
“Then what happened?”
“The woman who helped me disappeared.”
“What do you mean, she disappeared?”
“Vanished,” Erika said sadly, pain in her eyes. “With no trace. I was terrified. I left my teaching job because I thought I might be discovered. I couldn’t do anything that endangered the children.”
“Do you know the parents of these children?”
She shook her head. “We were only able to save orphans. There was too much risk with other children because their parents would ask for them. And I couldn’t contact parents because I wouldn’t know if I could trust them.”
“Who was this woman?” York asked. “She risked her life to save seven orphans.”
Erika nodded. “Yes, she was a good woman. I will never forget her.” She paused, hesitant, not knowing whether to reveal any information, but then she continued. “She was Inga’s mother.”
York was overwhelmed, unable to fathom the bravery of Erika and Inga’s mother. For a moment, he couldn’t speak. His eyes misted, both from the sacrifices they had made and from the atrocities the Nazis had committed.
Erika saw his reaction. She was moved, but wanted no sympathy. She changed the subject. “Tell me about the escape,” she said. “Maybe I can convince my mother to go.”
York explained his plan to her, the ambulance used for transport, the signs for tuberculosis, and the Tuesday morning departure.
She listened intently, impressed with all that had been done on her behalf. “Are you sure this will work?”
He hesitated. “There’s always risk. But we’ve tried to mitigate it by planning so carefully.”
She seemed satisfied. “I’ll prepare some food to take. The children will get hungry. It will be one less thing for you to worry about.”
“That would be helpful, and much appreciated.”
He looked at her, wondering how he could change her mind. Her eyes were dull, her face pale, she could only see yesterday. She couldn’t envision a future without the Nazis, or that another man might take the place of her deceased husband. She was a wonderful woman, with a heart as big as the universe, but if she remained in Berlin, she would have no one to share it with. Somehow he had to convince her.
“Is there anything else I can do?” she asked.
He thought for a moment, still planning the final details. “How are we going to get eight children out of your apartment and into an ambulance without them being seen?”
She was quiet, reflective. “Let me think about it. I have some ideas, but I want to walk through the path the children will be taking. Can you come back on Thursday?”