‘If you don’t mind.’
‘It will give us somewhere to begin. But not tonight. We have a long journey ahead of us tomorrow. Not just in miles, but into the past.’
‘We do.’ Laura rose from the bed. ‘Oma, you didn’t do anything ... I mean, in the camps ...’
‘I can’t speak for Greta, but my father, mother and I did the worst possible thing.’
Charlotte looked Laura in the eye and saw that her granddaughter was too afraid to ask.
‘We did nothing to help the people who were sent to them,’ she said. ‘Nothing at all.’
SUNDAY, 27 AUGUST 1939 (Continued)
We are returning to Bergensee. Yesterday, while Claus and I were married, the Führer made a speech demanding the return of Danzig and the Polish corridor that separates Prussia from the rest of Germany, and an end to the Anglo–French pledge to support Poland in its aggression towards Germany.
Everyone in the hotel was talking of it this morning. When Claus and I came down after breakfasting in our room we found the reception area crowded with holidaymakers anxious to get away because they were expecting war to break out at any moment. But that didn’t stop them from staring at me and nodding knowingly to one another.
There were no maids free, so I returned to our room to do our packing. Claus joined me later. He had secured the only tickets available back to Allenstein. Third-class on a late-evening train. It will be a very different journey from the one we took last night. Claus is disappointed but I am not. This afternoon he is taking me for a walk on the beach and the pier. A visit to the medieval quarter is out of the question now.
A band is playing military tunes in the gardens; children are dancing and singing, the boys parading and marching with straight legs like soldiers. It all seems so normal. I can’t believe that war will actually break out in a few hours. Surely the Poles will accede to the Führer’s demands? All the newspapers insist they are perfectly reasonable, and that we have every right to ask for the restoration of territory that was stolen from us at the end of the Great War, territory that will unite Prussia with the rest of Germany again.
Claus managed to telephone his commanding officer, although it took the hotel switchboard four hours to reach his regimental headquarters. His leave has been curtailed. He will have to return to his command on 30 August. Ours will be a very short honeymoon, only three days. I tried to look disappointed when he told me, but I am sure he suspects that I hate the things he does to me. This morning was even worse than last night. As soon as he woke he undressed me again, and afterwards, at breakfast, he kept trying to touch me, making vulgar jokes the whole time.
Tonight we will be at Bergensee. He has telegraphed his father to send a car to the station to meet us.
TUESDAY, 29 AUGUST 1939
Grunwaldsee
Claus has gone and I am alone again – thank God! – in my bedroom in Grunwaldsee, although Mama has taken away my small bed and replaced it with a huge monstrosity of a four-poster big enough to hold a regiment. Mama and Papa von Letteberg left for their house in Berlin before Claus and I returned from Sopot so we could continue our honeymoon at Bergensee. They were afraid of encroaching on our privacy, but I wish they had stayed. If they had, we would at least have had to leave our bedroom to eat in the dining room.
I had been to Bergensee many times, but I never realized how much grander and more formal the house is compared to Grunwaldsee. Probably because I only had eyes for Claus when I was there. I knew it was vast, but I had no idea it had 465 rooms. The staff are dignified (dare I say pompous) and the housekeeper terrifies me. She is so prim and proper, and is always looking down her long nose. When she showed me the family portraits in the gallery I felt she considered me nowhere near beautiful or noble enough to be a von Letteberg bride.
The tour she gave me was a short one. Claus said I would have plenty of time to become acquainted with the house after he had left. He ordered all our meals to be served in his suite. He insisted that although we had such a short time together, we should try to produce an heir for his father and his family.
I hate sex – I refuse to call it lovemaking. What Claus does to me has nothing to do with love. There were times when I couldn’t stop myself from crying, no matter how hard I tried to remember Mama’s advice that it is a wife’s duty to submit.
Mama telephoned to invite us to lunch at Grunwaldsee today. I was pleased, because it meant that I could keep my clothes on and say goodbye to Claus at home surrounded by my family. Despite all its magnificence, I find it difficult to think of Bergensee as my new home. I wonder if I ever will.
Although it was warm, I had to wear a dress with long sleeves so Mama and Papa wouldn’t see the bruises on my arms, but I think Mama suspects something is wrong because she kept asking me if I was feeling well. I tried to smile and reassure her. Claus was the same as ever. He never changes, never seems happy or sad with anything or anyone. Now I realize that before we were married I saw no further than his handsome face, uniform and aristocratic refinement.
The twins were in their new lieutenants’ uniforms, as was Peter. They were all called up into their regiments on Monday. Papa is devastated. He kept telling the boys that they have no idea what war is really like. He went on and on about the killing, the maiming, the blood until I felt sick. I don’t understand why he was so angry with the twins and Peter. It isn’t as if they were given any choice about being reservists or going into the army.
As they have all already completed their military training all three have been given commissions. So my brothers and brother-in-law as well as my husband are now officers in the Wehrmacht.
It seems strange to think of Peter as my brother-in-law. He was always playing the fool in the orchestra; there we were contemporaries. Now I am married I feel years older than him and that carefree girl who travelled out of Russia only a few short days ago.
The boys couldn’t talk about anything other than the coming war. Greta joined us. As Peter is too young for her to flirt with and there were no other young men around except Claus, she was determined to be catty. I scarcely know what I said to her. I felt so ill and wretched after my ‘honeymoon’ I couldn’t eat any of the lunch Mama had taken such pains over, and I could see that Papa as well as Mama was concerned for me. They thought it was because Claus was leaving. Little do they know. I couldn’t wait for him to be gone.
Mama and Papa had invited Mama and Papa von Letteberg to lunch. They drove all the way from Berlin just to spend the day with us and Claus.
Although Papa von Letteberg had recently retired, he has been recalled to the army, given his old rank of General and appointed to an important position at army headquarters. He and Mama von Letteberg are making arrangements to move to Berlin for the duration of the war – however long that will be. Grafin von Letteberg is so kind. She asked me to visit them there as often as I can. I think she guessed that things are not so wonderful between Claus and me.
But for now I have a breathing space. No Claus or horrid ‘married life’ for weeks or, if I’m lucky, months. But although being married is not all I expected or hoped it would be, it is bearable while Claus is away. Is it so wrong of me to pray for his safety – and his continued absence?
WEDNESDAY, 7 SEPTEMBER 1939
Grunwaldsee
War! German troops marched into Poland one week ago tomorrow. We cannot be sure but we are almost certain that Claus, Paul and Wilhelm were among them. I pray to God that he will keep them all safe from harm. But Papa has warned me that it may be a long war. Britain and France demanded that we withdraw from Poland. The government couldn’t do that, so both countries declared war on us on 3 September. We will soon have troops in the West as well as the East. Will Claus and the twins be sent there?
TUESDAY, 12 DECEMBER 1939
Grunwaldsee
I have not written a word in over three months because I am hardly ever well. First the honeymoon and now this baby. Mama keeps telling me I will be my old self again after the baby is born, but I don’t believe her. I don’t think I’ll ever feel well again after my wedding night.
Claus has not been granted leave since he left me in Grunwaldsee at the end of August. It is a dreadful thing to say, but here, alone with my thoughts, I can be truthful. I am not sorry. We know he is stationed in Poland, as are Wilhelm and Paul. Wilhelm and Paul’s letters are full of stories of how quickly Poland fell before our victorious army, and of their drinking and singing parties. Claus’s letters speak only of what we will do in Bergensee after the war and how he intends to bring up his son. I wonder what he will do if I dare to present him with a daughter.
I stay in bed most mornings. I feel so sick and weak; I can barely lift my head from the pillows. In the afternoons I sit with Mama in the drawing room. I haven’t touched the piano since I married. Papa dropped some hints that he would be glad of my help with running the estate, if only with the book-keeping and the ordering of supplies for the horses and the sale of produce to the war department, so last night I brought the estate account books up to date. Something is bothering Papa. I’m not sure what and, whenever I ask him, he says the only cares he has in this world are the war and my health.
Papa is leaving soon to represent East Prussian businessmen at a conference in Bavaria. I asked him about it but all he would say is what he always says whenever Mama or I question him about business, that it is nothing for us to bother our pretty little heads about, which probably means it is something to do with the war or the Party. He has had so many responsibilities since he was appointed burgomaster.
Fortunately for Grunwaldsee, Brunon is too old at fifty to be called up, so he, at least, will remain with us for the duration, but all the young men have been conscripted, except the idiot, Wilfie. Most of the maids have gone to the factories. The labour shortage is so bad that Brunon’s wife, Martha, now has to help in the house.
Wood and coal are in short supply, so Mama has decided to shut off the ballroom, eight of the guest bedrooms and the formal dining room. I can’t imagine how we will all squash into the small dining room when the boys come home on leave at Christmas. Claus will not be coming. He doesn’t think it right for officers to take leave when so many ordinary soldiers have to remain at their posts. He wrote to tell me that he will probably be home for the New Year. If the angels smile on me, he’ll change his mind about that, too.
Greta is also in Poland, supervising her BDM girls. They are preparing houses to receive ethnic Germans from Estonia and other eastern countries under Soviet rule. She writes to Mama and Papa nearly every day, telling them how the Poles didn’t deserve decent houses because they are such dirty people, and it is very hard work getting the Polish women to scrub out their old homes to make them fit for occupation by the incoming ethnic German families.
Nina and Hildegard have both gone to Berlin to work in the War Office. Hildegard wrote to me and made her work sound very grand and important, but Nina, who is in the same office, says all they do is push models of planes, tanks and troop deployments around on a big board, in between answering the telephone and typing letters.
I wish I didn’t feel so ill. Yesterday afternoon Mama ordered the car, and insisted I accompany her on a drive into town, but Brunon had to stop three times for me to be sick.
Wilhelm wrote to ask Papa’s permission to marry Irena at Christmas in Grunwaldsee church. They are very young, but, as Papa says, it is not easy for boys who are about to go into battle to think of their whole life. Not when so many of them face an early death. Now the twins are finally serving officers, Papa has had to accept that they are adults as well as soldiers.
I can’t imagine kind, gentle Wilhelm wanting to do the dreadful things to Irena that Claus does to me. And the more I think about Nina’s assertion that some women like it, the less I believe her. I find it incredible that some poor women are desperate enough to do it for money! I would rather hang myself or starve to death.
Irena is so excited. She asked me what married life is like. I think she wanted to talk about sex, but I couldn’t tell her the truth. She looked so happy. As happy as I did before my wedding night, and, as she has already accepted Wilhelm, there is no going back on her promise. Besides, it is the duty of every German girl to marry and produce sons for the Fatherland, so if Irena didn’t marry Wilhelm, she would have to marry someone else.
Mama and Irena’s mother, Frau Adolf, discuss the wedding over endless coffee afternoons. It will be held at Grunwaldsee, not only because we have more room, but because it is the only place for a von Datski to marry. Unfortunately, the constraints of war and rationing will limit the food and the number of guests, so poor Irena and Wilhelm’s wedding will not be as lavish as mine.
The twins will be home on Christmas Eve, and the wedding will take place on the evening of Christmas Day. Wilhelm and Irena will have to honeymoon at Grunwaldsee because Wilhelm has only one week’s leave and the railway warrant system is so uncertain. Papa has ordered the lakeside summerhouse to be cleaned and painted inside and out, and they will stay there. Martha will go down to cook for them.
In some ways I envy Irena. It was horrible in the Grand Hotel in Sopot the morning after our wedding night, knowing that all those people realized we were honeymooners, and were thinking about what Claus had done to me.
I will try to write more regularly, but now I am going to the station with Mama and Papa to say goodbye to Papa. Afterwards, Mama and I will call on Irena and her mother. I must make more of an effort to welcome Irena into the family, and try to warn her, tactfully, that married life is not everything the storybooks say it is.
‘Wrong side of the road, Laura,’ Charlotte said.
‘Oh, hell, so I am! It’s Britain’s fault for driving the opposite way to everyone else.’
‘If you’re tired I can take over.’