Storm Front

Chapter Fourteen

Wieland House, Berlin

28 July 1985

Gudrun had received her first surprise when she’d returned home and opened the door. A leaflet – a copy of their leaflet – lay on the table, having been pushed through the letterbox and brought into the dining room by her mother. The second surprise had been Grandpa Frank sitting in an armchair, watching her mother as she fretted over the leaflet. He was holding a bottle of beer in one hand, but he seemed surprisingly sober.

“Don’t touch that leaflet,” her mother snapped, when Gudrun reached for it. “I’m going to show it to your father.”

“It’s one of the leaflets we had to hand out as children,” Gudrun said, pretending to be perplexed. “It’s nothing…”

“Don’t touch it,” her mother snapped. “Go upstairs and change into something proper and then come back down and help me with dinner.”

Gudrun nodded and hurried up the stairs, puzzling over the leaflet. She’d known that some of the boys were going to post them through letterboxes, but her letterbox? Had they thought it would help her avoid suspicion? Did they even know where she lived? She’d taken Hilde and Isla back to her home a couple of times, but Konrad had been the only boy who’d visited since she’d turned thirteen. Horst only knew where she lived because she’d had to tell him where to drop her off.

She closed and locked the door, then unpacked the BDM uniform and hid it at the back of her wardrobe. Hopefully, her parents wouldn’t demand to see it in the next couple of days. She was expected to do the washing on Wednesday, when she had no classes at the university; she’d insert it into the washing pile before anyone had a chance to look at the uniform.

And for once it’s a good thing the boys aren’t expected to do anything around the house, she thought as she changed into a skirt and blouse. Her father would have a fit if he saw her in tight jeans and an American t-shirt, even if he had other things to worry about. She had no way of knowing where he’d been stationed, but he would probably have been called to Victory Square to help round up the BDM girls. He’ll be hopping mad when he comes home from work.

She walked back down the stairs, almost running into her mother as she helped Grandpa Frank stagger back upstairs to his room. The drunkard looked surprisingly bright-eyed; he was normally drunk out of his mind when Gudrun came home. Her mother pointed to the kitchen; Gudrun nodded and hurried down the rest of the stairs, looking around for the vegetables she knew she’d have to chop. There was no sign of the leaflet.

And what, Gudrun asked herself, will mother do with it?

She worried over it as she donned an apron and set to work. They’d been told at school, time and time again, that seditious literature had to be handed in to the police at once. Gudrun remembered, at the time, trying to decide what counted as seditious; the definitions they’d been given were very broad, too broad to understand. Her mother would show the leaflet to her father and then… and then what? Who knew what her father would do?

The door opened. Gudrun looked up, just in time to see Kurt sneaking into the kitchen and making a beeline for the cookie jar. She hissed at him threateningly – their mother would be furious if he spoiled his appetite before the main meal of the day – and chased him back out of the kitchen. He raised his hands in mock surrender as he retreated; Gudrun was tempted to ask him why he wasn’t in the barracks, but swallowed the thought as she realised he might well have seen the leaflets too. Who knew what the soldiers had made of them?

And he might guess I had something to do with them, she thought, as she put the chopped vegetables into water and put the pot on the stove. He knows Konrad’s a cripple – and unlikely to survive.

Her mother came back downstairs, muttering under her breath, and bustled into the kitchen, issuing orders with all the determination of an army officer. Gudrun pushed her fears out of her mind and set to work following them, silently grateful that her mother was doing her fair share of the work. One of her friends who’d married young had told her that the mother-in-law did nothing, apart from issuing instructions and moaning when they weren’t followed to the letter. Gudrun had privately determined she wouldn’t be marrying anyone unless they moved into a private home, well away from the in-laws. She hadn’t been looking forward to the argument with Konrad…

She sagged against the table as it struck her, again. There wouldn’t be any arguments with Konrad; there wouldn’t be anything with Konrad, ever. He’d die in a hospital bed, his life support cut off, or he’d remain a cripple for the rest of his life. The nurse had talked about brain damage. Gudrun was no doctor, but she knew that brain damage could be impossible to repair. His body was still alive, yet his soul might have fled long ago.

“Gudrun,” her mother snapped. “What’s got into you, girl?”

“I’m sorry,” Gudrun said, pulling herself upright. “I… I’m just tired.”

Her mother gave her a considering look. “You had better go to bed early, after you’ve taken Grandpa Frank his dinner,” she said, finally. “You’ll be useless if you go to the university without a good night’s sleep.”

Gudrun was tempted to protest that she worked hard at home and at the university, but she kept that thought to herself as she heard the front door open. The one time she’d complained about having to do all the chores herself – her brothers were allowed to get away with leaving their rooms messy – her mother had pointed out that she needed to develop the skills to be a good wife and mother. There was no point in having the same argument a second time.

She looked up as her father entered the kitchen. He was wearing his green uniform – he normally changed at the station – and looked grim.

“I’m going to have to go back to the station tonight,” he said, after he gave his wife a hug and kiss. “The captain wants us all on duty.”

“I’ve got something to show you,” his wife said. She looked back at Gudrun. “Get the food on the table, please.”

“Yes, mother,” Gudrun said, feeling a chill running down her spine. “Beer?”

“No beer,” her father said, quickly. “Just coffee, please.”

Gudrun nodded and turned away before her father could see the guilt written all over her face. He’d always been good at spotting their lies, when they’d been children; Gudrun and her brothers had learned long ago that it was pointless to try to deceive their father. Did he know, she asked herself, that she was worried about something? Or was he too wrapped up in his own troubles to worry about hers?

“I told you not to read it,” her mother said, loudly enough for Gudrun to hear her even though the walls. “I told you…”

She picked up the pan and carried it through the door, into the dining room. Kurt was standing at one side of the table, the leaflet in his hand; their parents were standing at the other side, glaring at him. Gudrun kept her eyes lowered as she put the pan on the table, then looked up to see Kurt holding out the leaflet. She took it, only to have it snatched out of her hand by her father.

“Father,” Kurt said.

“I will not have this… this seditious crap in my house,” her father snapped. He stuffed the leaflet into his pocket and glared at his son. “And showing it to your sister was unwise…”

“It concerns her,” Kurt said, calmly.

Gudrun looked up at him. “What does it say?”

“None of your business, young lady,” her mother said. “Go back and bring in the meat!”

“It says that soldiers who have stopped writing are crippled or dead and the government is covering it up,” Kurt said. “Soldiers like Konrad…”

Gudrun felt her mouth drop open in shock. Kurt had guessed. He had to have guessed… and he’d given her a cover she could use to protect herself, if she wished. Now she’d have an excuse for knowing about Konrad’s injury.

She turned to her father. “Konrad is wounded?”

“His name isn’t mentioned,” her father said, crossly. “Whoever is passing out these leaflets used BDM girls as pawns. They’re monsters.”

“Show me the leaflet,” Gudrun demanded, angrily. It wasn’t a tone she would have normally dared to use, but she felt she could get away with it now. “I need to see.”

“No, you don’t,” her father said. “Everyone who sees one of these leaflets is going to be in deep trouble.”

“Including us,” Kurt said, coolly. “Where did it even come from?”

“I found it in the letterbox,” their mother said. “I don’t know who brought it here!”

“Whoever they are, they will be tracked down and punished,” their father snapped. He stamped his foot angrily. “They’re telling lies!”

“I haven’t heard anything from Konrad in months,” Gudrun said, careful not to look at her father. He might see the lie written on her face. “His family hasn’t heard anything from him either.”

“He would hardly be the first young man to be more interested in fighting than writing,” her father said. He sounded as though he was trying to be reassuring, but couldn’t quite pull it off. “Why, when I was a soldier, there were times when I didn’t write to your mother for weeks. The postal system was so disorganised that I sometimes got three or four letters from her in a single packet and had to be careful to read them in order…”

“And father was less than pleased you weren’t writing,” her mother added. “He told you off for it when you came home on leave.”

“Konrad promised he would write to me every week,” Gudrun said, feeling a sudden lump in her throat. “And then he just stopped!”

“Maybe he found someone else,” Siegfried said.

Gudrun blinked in shock. When had he entered the room?

Kurt slapped the back of his head, hard. “Shut up,” he snapped. “Or I’ll make damn sure that the only girl who will ever look at you will be an ugly old bitch…”

“Kurt,” their mother thundered.

Gudrun felt tears welling at the corner of her eyes. She knew Konrad was crippled, not cheating on her… but she couldn’t say that out loud. Siegfried… had all the innocent malice of a child; he didn’t know just how badly his words had hurt her. Their father banished Siegfried from the room, promising him that he wouldn’t have anything to eat until the following morning.

“A little hunger will teach you a lesson,” he shouted after his youngest son. “And I don’t want to hear a peep out of you for an hour!”

“It’s going to be ok,” Kurt said, reaching out to take Gudrun’s arm. “Konrad…”

“… Is perfectly fine,” their father said, turning back to them. “Just because he hasn’t written to you in months doesn’t mean he’s dead, or wounded, or looking elsewhere. He’s a stormtrooper, Gudrun. They’re sometimes barred from sending home letters until their operation is completed.”

“He’d have told me something,” Gudrun protested. She had to see the leaflet before she said something she couldn’t justify. “Please! Show me the leaflet!”

“It’s none of your concern,” her father said, sternly.

“Father,” Kurt said quietly, “ignorance won’t protect her…”

Their father glared at him. “Knowledge won’t save her either.”

“Fetch the rest of the food,” Gudrun’s mother ordered. “And put some aside for Siegfried.”

“I said he wasn’t to have any food until tomorrow,” their father snapped, rounding on his wife. “He’s going to learn a lesson!”

“And he will need to eat a proper meal for breakfast tomorrow,” their mother said. She’d never disagreed with any of their father’s punishments, but she’d sometimes acted to moderate them. “He’s got school in the morning and Hitler Youth in the evening. He doesn’t need a bad fitness report from his teachers.”

Gudrun winced as she hurried back into the kitchen, wiping the tears from her eyes. A bad fitness report could be disastrous, particularly if Siegfried wanted to get into the air force or the navy. It was at least four years before he could join, but if the recruiters had too many volunteers they might look as far back as the Hitler Youth to decide who should be given a chance. Siegfried had always been a little nastier than her other brothers – she dreaded to think of what would happen if he ever worked out that she’d helped write the leaflets – yet he didn’t deserve to have his life ruined by being too hungry to march, run or play football with the other children.

She put enough food aside for him, then carried the rest of it back into the dining room and placed it on the table. Kurt and their father were seated, staring at each other, while their mother was standing behind their father, wringing her hands together. Gudrun didn’t really blame her for being worried. There had been arguments before, of course, but then her children had been children. Now, Kurt was an adult with his own life, Gudrun was old enough to marry and Johan would be going into the army next year, unless he passed the university entrance exams. Only Siegfried was still a child and he was growing up fast.

Kurt waved cheerfully to Johan as he entered the room, then took a potato from the pan and leaned forward. “What happened at work?”

“Those damnable leaflets were being handed out by young women in BDM clothes,” their father said. “We had to round up every girl in the square, which naturally brought dozens of parents to mass on the other side of the barricades…”

“The girls were handing out the leaflets?” Kurt asked. He made a show of stroking his chin thoughtfully. “How… strange.”

“As I said,” their father snarled, “the girls handing them out wore BDM uniforms, but they were apparently not BDM.”

“And yet they wore those uniforms voluntarily,” Kurt mused. He winked cheerfully at Gudrun. “They must have escaped from the madhouse.”

Gudrun kicked him under the table. Her mother smacked her on the head, then sat down and started to ladle food onto her plate. Gudrun ate quickly, trying to follow the argument; Kurt seemed more inclined to wonder at how many soldiers hadn’t been writing home, while her father flatly refused to consider the matter. The leaflet itself was nowhere in sight; she guessed her father had shoved it into his pocket, then buttoned it up.

“The discussion is closed,” her father said, finally. “There will be no more talk of it within my house.”

Kurt scowled at him. “How many soldiers haven’t come home?”

“The discussion is closed,” her father repeated. “When are you going back on duty?”

“We’re supposed to start prepping for deployment in a month,” Kurt said, shortly. “I’m not sure where we’re going yet, but the CO is insistent we get ready for intensive training.”

Gudrun felt her blood run cold. “South Africa?”

“Probably,” Kurt said. He didn’t sound pleased. “We may be stationed in Germany Arabia, but South Africa or Germany East sounds likelier.”

“You’ll do fine, wherever you go,” their father said. He gave Kurt a look of approval that twisted Gudrun’s heart. What did she have to do to earn her father’s approval? “I’m proud of you.”

“You might die – or be wounded,” Gudrun said. She shuddered as the full implications struck her. Kurt could wind up as badly wounded as Konrad – or worse – and they’d never know what had happened. “What would it mean if you stopped writing…?”

“That will do,” her father snapped. He fixed Gudrun with an icy glare that rooted her to the spot. “The university has done nothing for your mind, young lady. It’s high time you and Konrad were married and started raising children.”

Gudrun stared at him in shock. She’d known her father was a traditionalist, but she’d always thought he was proud of her university career. The exams she’d passed to enter were among the hardest in the Reich. Once she graduated, she’d be in a good position to make a professional life for herself, rather than becoming just another housewife.

“Father…”

“I mean it,” her father said. His eyes never left her face. “I should never have agreed to let you go to the university when you had a perfectly acceptable suitor. Young girls…”

“My boyfriend is a cripple,” Gudrun shouted, feeling her temper snap. “There won’t be a marriage!”

“You don’t know he’s a cripple,” Kurt said, quickly. He looked at their father, clearly trying to draw his wrath away from Gudrun. “You should have let her see the leaflet.”

Their mother slapped the table, hard. “Gudrun, take Grandpa Frank his dinner,” she ordered, as silence fell like a hammer. “And then go to your room. Your father and I will discuss your future when this affair is over.”

Gudrun swallowed. If Kurt hadn’t covered for her, she might have revealed far too much to their father. “I…”

“Go,” her father ordered. Her voice brooked of no objection. “I’ll speak to you before I go out.”

“Yes, father,” Gudrun said. There was no point in arguing. She’d be lucky, after the shouting match, if they allowed her to go into the university tomorrow. “I’ll be waiting.”