Winter of the World

‘I saw them doing it, in Russia. They round up all the important people in town, because they must be Communists. And they get the Jews, too. Not just men, but women and children. And old people too frail to do anyone any harm.’ Tears were streaming down his face now. ‘Our regular soldiers don’t do it – there are special groups. They take the prisoners out of town. Sometimes there’s a quarry, or some other kind of pit. Or they make the younger ones dig a great hole. Then—’

He choked up, but Carla had to hear him say it. ‘Then what?’

‘They do them twelve at a time. Six pairs. Sometimes the husbands and wives hold hands as they walk down the slope. The mothers carry the babies. The riflemen wait until the prisoners are in the right spot. Then they shoot.’ Erik wiped his tears with his dirty uniform sleeve. ‘Bang,’ he said.

There was a long silence in the kitchen. Ada was crying. Carla was aghast. Only Maud was stony-faced.

Eventually Erik blew his nose, then took out cigarettes. ‘I was surprised to get leave and a ticket home,’ he said.

Carla said: ‘When do you have to go back?’

‘Tomorrow. I have only twenty-four hours here. All the same I’m the envy of all my comrades. They’d give anything for a day at home. Dr Weiss said I must have friends in high places.’

‘You do,’ said Maud. ‘Joachim Koch, a young lieutenant who works at the War Ministry and comes to me for piano lessons. I asked him to arrange leave for you.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘He’ll be here in a few minutes. He has grown fond of me – he’s in need of a mother figure, I think.’

Mother, hell, Carla thought. There was nothing maternal about Maud’s relationship with Joachim.

Maud went on: ‘He’s very innocent. He told us there’s going to be a new offensive on the Eastern Front starting on 28 June. He even mentioned the code name: Case Blue.’

Erik said: ‘He’s going to get himself shot.’

Carla said: ‘Joachim is not the only one who might be shot. I told someone what I learned. Now I’ve been asked to persuade Joachim, somehow, to get me the battle plan.’

‘Good God!’ Erik was rocked. ‘This is serious espionage – you’re in more danger than I am on the Eastern Front!’

‘Don’t worry, I can’t imagine Joachim would do it,’ Carla said.

‘Don’t be so sure,’ said Maud.

They all looked at her.

‘He might do it for me,’ she said. ‘If I asked him the right way.’

Erik said: ‘He’s that naive?’

She looked defiant. ‘He’s in love with me.’

‘Oh.’ Erik was embarrassed at the idea of his mother being involved in a romance.

Carla said: ‘All the same, we can’t do it.’

Erik said: ‘Why not?’

‘Because if the Russians win the battle you might die!’

‘I’ll probably die anyway.’

Carla heard her own voice rise in pitch agitatedly. ‘But we’d be helping the Russians kill you!’

‘I still want you to do it,’ Erik said fiercely. He looked down at the chequered oilcloth on the kitchen table, but what he was seeing was a thousand miles away.

Carla felt torn. If he wanted her to . . . She said: ‘But why?’

‘I think of those people walking down the slope into the quarry, holding hands.’ His own hands on the table grasped each other hard enough to bruise. ‘I’ll risk my life, if we can put a stop to that. I want to risk my life – I’ll feel better about myself, and my country, if I do. Please, Carla, if you can, send the Russians that battle plan.’

Still she hesitated. ‘Are you sure?’

‘I’m begging you.’

‘Then I will,’ said Carla.

(v)

Thomas Macke told his men – Wagner, Richter and Schneider – to be on their best behaviour. ‘Werner Franck is only a lieutenant, but he works for General Dorn. I want him to have the best possible impression of our team and our work. No swearing, no jokes, no eating, and no rough stuff unless it’s really necessary. If we catch a Communist spy, you can give him a good kicking. But if we fail, I don’t want you to pick on someone else just for fun.’ Normally he would turn a blind eye to that sort of thing. It all helped to keep people in fear of the displeasure of the Nazis. But Franck might be squeamish.

Werner turned up punctually at Gestapo headquarters in Prinz Albrecht Strasse on his motorcycle. They all got into the surveillance van with the revolving aerial on the roof. With so much radio equipment inside it was cramped. Richter took the wheel and they drove around the city in the early evening, the favoured time for spies to send messages to the enemy.

‘Why is that, I wonder?’ said Werner.

‘Most spies have a regular job,’ Macke explained. ‘It’s part of their cover story. So they go to an office or a factory in the daytime.’

‘Of course,’ said Werner. ‘I never thought of that.’

Macke was worried they might not pick up anything at all tonight. He was terrified that he would get the blame for the reverses the German army was suffering in Russia. He had done his best, but there were no prizes for effort in the Third Reich.