I watched the flow of passengers approach the front of the line. Most of the discussions were about items too large to take on board: antiques, furniture, expensive carpets. And then I saw them. Wooden crates, similar to so many I had carefully belted and fastened, stood in stacked rows, surrounded by armed guards. Of course. The Nazis were not only boarding passengers, they were loading their looted art and treasure onto the ships. My curiosity burned. What was in the crates?
People cried when their large items were refused. I carried only Joana’s small suitcase and my pack. The little boy had no luggage, the shoe poet only a carpetbag and his shoe-repair kit. I was about to give Joana’s suitcase to Poet when an armed sentry corralled us into line.
“Step ahead. Make room, please.”
German efficiency worked against me. They were fast. Before I could finalize a plan we were at the front of the line with our papers. The guard behind the table was older, seasoned. He flipped through the identity papers, examining our photos against our faces. Another soldier walked around us, examining our belongings. The older guard behind the desk then looked at our boarding passes. He pointed to the shoemaker and the boy.
“You two. Proceed to the gangway.” He then pointed at me. “You, proceed to the table behind me. Additional inspection.”
Additional inspection. My heart punched in my chest. I had forgotten to open my coat, to display my wound. I acted like I was reaching for papers and released the buttons. Brittle cold rushed in around my torso. I hoped it would mask my perspiration, my desperation. I prayed the inspection officer would be a booby like the sailor I had duped.
He wasn’t.
He was in his late twenties, blond, with fair, almost waxen, skin. He looked like one of Hitler’s prized Aryans from the propaganda posters. He leaned back, teetering on his chair in a long oilskin coat, basking within his power and authority. Two other soldiers stood nearby, hanging on his every word, laughing when they were supposed to. I approached the table and set down the suitcase. My pack hung on my back behind me. In it were pistols, ammunition, forgery materials, my notebook, and the Führer’s most beloved treasure, the amber swan.
The blond officer leaned forward. His chair fell to the dock with a thud.
“Papers.”
I handed him my identity card and the boarding pass.
“What’s in your suitcase?” he asked.
“It’s not mine. I’m delivering it to my nurse on board. It belongs to her.”
“Your nurse? My, my, you have your own private nurse?” He looked to the soldier on his right. “This one has his own nurse.”
“I bet he does.” The soldier laughed.
“Looks like you need a nurse.” He pointed a pencil at my bloodstained shirt. “Show me.”
“Excuse me?”
“Let’s see this bad wound that requires a personal nurse. I think I may want one myself. I need to see what’s required.”
I quickly lifted my shirt and revealed the massive gash.
The officer twisted his face. “Nasty. The skin’s nearly grown over the stitch. Might be too late to take them out. What’s the name of the nurse you say is on board?”
I hesitated. It wasn’t fair. I didn’t want to implicate her. “Joana Vilkas,” I said quietly.
The other soldiers whistled. “Litwinka.”
“What?” I didn’t understand.
The inspection officer laughed. “It’s the nickname for your pretty Lithuanian nurse. There aren’t many female personnel on board, so we’ve named them all.”
He leaned back on his chair again. “I think there’s something missing here.”
Sweat beaded beneath my hairline.
“You have civilian papers and you’re trying to get on a ship. Yet you’re an able-bodied young man who could be serving the Reich.”
I leaned forward and stared him down. “I am serving.” I pulled the additional paperwork from my coat pocket and threw it on the table.
He laughed and began narrating for his buddies. “Let’s see, fellas. Here we have . . . an official medical testimony signed by Litwinka. Such a pretty signature she has. Shrapnel. Oh, and deaf in one ear, too. That’s convenient. Let’s see what other love notes he’s got.” He opened the thick cream paper, saw the seal at the top, and stopped talking. He scanned through the letter and looked up at me, angry.
“When you are asked for papers, you are to provide all of your papers.”
I allowed all of the ferocity of the past years to rise up inside me. Like a boiler about to blow, I leaned over the table.
“I will be happy to tell Gauleiter Koch that you unnecessarily held his injured courier in the freezing cold, delaying his mission and wasting the services of a nurse he himself arranged. Koch’s mood of late hasn’t been very forgiving.”
He stared back at me, wanting desperately to jump the table for a fight. Part of me hoped it would come to fists. I wanted to batter this blond idiot senseless.
He pushed the stack of papers back at me and gave a nod toward the gangway.
Adrenaline charged through me. I wanted to knock his teeth out more than I wanted to board the ship. I stuffed my papers away and buttoned my coat.
“Say hi to Litwinka for us.” He whistled to the guard at the gangway and pointed to me. “That one’s going to the infirmary.”
I felt his eyes on me, following my steps up the gangway and into the ship.
alfred