My pulse raced as the crumbling theater came into view. Yes, yes, I would do this. I would be in best favor with leaders of the party when the recruit revealed that I had helped him.
I walked through the snow around back and realized I had forgotten the number of knocks. No matter. The door stood open and people moved in and out freely. The movie house overflowed with refugees. The smell was quite unpleasant. Baggage and personal articles towered on top of the seats. A shrill whistle sounded. It came from the pregnant Latvian woman. She pointed above, toward the ceiling. I supposed she was suffering the feminine hysteria common to pregnant women, but then I saw the recruit, standing in the small window of the projection booth.
It took me quite a while to find the stairs and I was belabored of breath once I climbed them. I approached the closed door at the top of the stairway. Was this where I was supposed to use the secret knock? The door flew open. The recruit pulled me inside.
The tiny dark room smelled of cigarettes. I waved my hand in front of my face, hoping to clear the air.
“You want a smoke?” asked the recruit, pacing the floor.
“I don’t partake,” I told him.
“Do you have it?”
He spoke in code, but I knew what he meant. The pass. I tried to remember the terminology used in the spy magazines but could not recall any. So I just slowly whispered, “Yes.” His coat shifted and I saw a pistol in his waistband. I quickly produced the pass.
“You’re a good man,” he told me. He then handed me a leaflet labeled Victory or Death.
“Have you read that one?” he asked.
“No,” I admitted.
“It speaks of good Germans and bad Germans. You are a good German.”
“Thank you.” I felt a glow of confidence within me. “Permission to ask a question?”
He smiled. “Permission granted.”
“How will you manage? The pass is blank. It will need to be filled out and also stamped officially for you to board. They will have a complete manifest.”
“Yes, I know. Leave that to me. Now, friend, before boarding begins and all hell breaks loose, I need you to bring me the nurse.”
“The pretty nurse from this morning?” I asked.
He stopped pacing. “You think she’s pretty?”
I had heard other sailors talk often of girls, sometimes in graphic detail. And of course I had my Hannelore.
“Yes.” I grinned. “In my experience, the nurse would certainly rate as attractive.”
He stared at the pass. “Can you find her? Tell her that her patient needs her. Make sure you use the word need, sailor.”
“But where will I find her?”
“She promised the pregnant girl she would come for her. She’s probably on her way here.”
“Ah, yes, she did seem most concerned for the Latvian.”
The recruit turned to me, lighting the stub of a cigarette. “The pretty nurse,” he said. “Her name is Joana. And when it comes to her, sailor”—he clapped me on the shoulder, exhaling a scarf of smoke—“I’ve heard she’s already spoken for.”
joana
Dr. Richter would be angry. Instead of following him to the ship, I had left him with hundreds of wounded men.
Blessed, reliable Poet. He stood under the clock in the cold, the wandering boy playing in a mound of snow near his feet.
“See,” he said to the boy. “I told you she would come.”
The wandering boy jumped up and hugged my leg.
“Hello, little one.” I looked to Poet. “Were you able to get passes?”
“Four hours in that line. But yes, we were given passes. I was nearly conscripted to repair military boots. To be truthful, I think little Klaus was the only reason I was granted a pass. Small children are a priority.”
“And what about Emilia?”
“It was a mess. That blathering sailor pushed her to the front of the line. It drew more attention.” Poet frowned. “The girl, she was terrified. I had to push her, but she finally caught on and feigned contractions, lying on the ground wailing. Then the soldiers wanted to put her on the boat immediately, but she said she wouldn’t go without you, her nurse. They were only too happy to be rid of her. That silly sailor was so frightened by the threat of birthing that he lost all color and nearly keeled over.”
“But did she get a pass? Where is she now?” I asked.
“Oh, yes, the pregnant Latvian got herself a pass. She’s in the movie theater. She insisted on waiting for you. Where is Sorry Eva?”
“Eva’s in line for registration. We have to hurry. I need to get back. They’re boarding the wounded tonight. I want to take Emilia with me. The rest of you may board tomorrow.”
The young sailor suddenly appeared.
“Aha! There you are, Fr?ulein.” He moved uncomfortably close and began to whisper. “Your patient says he needs you in the movie house. I stress, Fr?ulein, he needs you.”
I looked at him, confused. What did he mean?
“He used those very words himself.” The sailor stared at me, blinking rapidly.
We left the sailor and ran to the movie house.
florian
Joana pushed through the door of the projection room, flushed and out of breath.
“Are you okay?” she asked.