The word was so quiet, I wasn’t even sure I had heard it. I looked down at the Polish girl. She wore red lipstick. Her blond hair was released from the captivity of her braids. She pulled her pink hat down over her eyes. “Bitte,” she whispered again. “Please.”
The soldier and a superior were discussing my papers. Had Dr. Lange and Gauleiter Koch made the discovery yet? Did the soldiers have my name on a list of traitors? If so, I’d soon feel the shadow of a gun on the back of my skull.
The soldier returned, staring at me. “I assume you’re going to Pillau?” he asked.
“You assume?” I said with an air of authority, needing him to reveal more.
“I am told Gauleiter Koch may be on his way to Pillau.”
“No, I am not going to Pillau,” I said.
“To Gotenhafen, then?” he asked.
Gotenhafen was in the other direction. “Correct. Gotenhafen.”
“Yes, Herr Beck. But it’s quite a walk to Gotenhafen. There may be a small boat that can take you.” He suddenly saw the Polish girl at my side and raised an eyebrow.
“Yours?” he said with a grin.
“Mind yourself. She’s with that group. They helped me when I was injured. In turn, they have helped Gauleiter Koch and the Führer.” I snapped my papers out of his hand. “Have you met Gauleiter Koch?” I asked.
The soldier shook his head. “No, but I’ve heard about him.”
Of course he had. Koch’s murderous reputation had made him known. And feared.
“Why doesn’t Koch have you in uniform?” asked the soldier. “It would be safer for you.”
“Maybe, but then I’d be dragged by some unit into the field. As you know, Koch doesn’t like his affairs broadcast. This is private business,” I said, staring him down.
He nodded.
“Listen. I need that boat to Gotenhafen. Now.”
alfred
“Beeil dich!”
Hurry, hurry. Always hurry. Hurrying made my hands itch.
I had been assigned to the Gustloff ’s enclosed sundeck for the day. It was being outfitted as a maternity ward. How inconvenient for women to become pregnant during a war. Quite thoughtless of them. My Mutter certainly would not have done such a thing. I thought of Mutter’s bedroom, separate from my father’s. But then I dismissed the thought. I preferred not to think of my father at all.
“Which cabins will the doctors stay in?” I asked as I hauled wooden cots into a line.
“You say ‘doctors’ as if there will be many,” replied the soldier. “I think there will be one doctor who tends to both the women and the injured soldiers.”
One doctor for all the patients? But then I realized my error. “So the nurses will do most of the work. Oh, yes, that’s much better.”
“Nurses? It won’t be easy to find nurses. There’s a war going on, man. If someone has a baby, you’ll be the midwife.”
Revolting. If women were so careless to become pregnant at such a time, let women sort it out. It was not a job for one of the Führer’s finest.
“Well, they’ll need more medical personnel. We’re already worn too thin,” I complained.
“Sure.” The other soldier smirked. “Folding tablecloths and laying mattress pads. That really wears you thin. I’d rather be at the front, killing Russians, but I destroyed my knee, so I’m here”—he looked at me—“with guys like you.”
“This is a most important assignment,” I corrected him. “We’re going to be commanding two thousand people.”
“Two thousand?” He laughed. “You think this tub’s going to carry only two thousand people? Who told you that?”
emilia
We sat on the bank, shivering, my abdomen seizing. I watched refugees cross the ice and continue their trek down the narrow strip of land between the lagoon and the Baltic Sea. To the left—Gotenhafen. To the right—Pillau. Either way, the journey would be another long one.
Our group argued, but finally chose Gotenhafen. They thought a voyage from Gotenhafen would be shorter. The next argument was how to get there.
“We can walk,” said Eva.
“It’s much too far. A boat will cut across the inlet faster,” argued Joana. “The Russians are on top of us. There’s no time to waste.”
“This is what we shall do,” counseled Poet. “We will lend our cart and horse to a family on foot. They will be grateful for the transportation. We will try to hire a small boat, meet them in Gotenhafen, and retrieve our belongings. That will suit all parties.”
I didn’t have any belongings, just a rotten potato in my pocket that I gnawed on when no one was looking. That was all I had.
It made me think of my father. You’re all I have, he would say. Mama’s death changed my father. One day a tuft of pure white hair appeared on the back of his head. When I mentioned it, he said it was special—angel hair. But other things changed too. His skin clung to his bones like drenched clothing. He often held his face in his hands.