—Why did you do it, Magnus?
—Oh, that was easy. We despised the French, we were mortally afraid of the Soviets, we didn’t believe the British could afford us, that left the Americans.
—I didn’t mean that. I meant… Never mind.
I shouldn’t have asked. I want them to be good people. I want all of this to be worth something, the dead, all that we did. If that’s not true, if they’re like Himmler…
—What?
—Building weapons, working for Hitler. Why did you do it?
—Says the girl who wants us to do the same thing for the United States.
I am a hypocrite.
—You’re right. I don’t want to know.
—They didn’t leave us much choice.
He feels the need to justify himself. That’s not the way to go. Getting up every morning is a choice. Not putting a P38 to your temple and blowing your brains out is a choice.
—You didn’t have to do it. You certainly didn’t have to be good at it.
—Do you know why Himmler had my brother arrested?
—What?
—You heard me. A year ago, why did they have him arrested?
—They said it was on suspicion of treason.
I just heard myself saying it, and I realized it doesn’t make any sense. You don’t suspect someone of treason then have him lead your biggest weapons project three months later, no matter how indispensable he may be. Von Braun wouldn’t be alive if they thought he could betray them. They trusted him.
—That’s funny. Suspicion of treason. Have you met Helmut Gröttrup?
—He was at Peenemünde, wasn’t he?
—He was a manager, yes. Smart man. He and my brother didn’t always see eye-to-eye, but they respected each other. Anyway, Helmut, Wernher, and—who else was there? Oh yes—Klaus Riedel, another scientist. It doesn’t matter. They were all having dinner one night. A casual event, friends, engineers from the research center. They were all having drinks. Gröttrup, at some point, said he’d heard the war wasn’t going well for the Germans, to which my brother replied that they should all be building spaceships anyway, not missiles. Rockets want to go up, he said, not down. It was innocent enough. But there was a young woman at dinner, a dentist, who turned out to be spying for the SS. Just Germany being Germany. She reported all of them to Kammler, who told Himmler. You know the rest.
—Spaceships?
—He meant it, you know. That’s all he can think about. He wants to go to space himself. Only no one wants to fund that, so he does the next best thing. He builds rockets, the biggest ones he can.
—And you?
—Oh, I’m not as smart as he is. It doesn’t really matter what I believe. I just like working with my brother.
I didn’t know von Braun wanted the same thing we do. Listening to Magnus talk about his brother, there’s something profoundly endearing about family. Unconditional love. That’s worth saving. That’s worth dying for.
—Is he still mad at me?
I snapped at von Braun this morning. No reason, just me being… The way he broke the shell on his boiled egg, the way he held his spoon. There was a spit bubble on the corner of his mouth. I… It was like time slowed down, almost to a halt. Everything was loud, screechy. I could hear my heartbeat, his chewing. Constant. Chewing…
—Oh, I’d be surprised if he rememb—Lili! what are you doing!
I have no idea. All I know is I’ll lose my mind if I stay here another second. I need to do something. I can’t drive to the border, there’ll be checkpoints, soldiers. I’ll take that bicycle and cut through the woods. With any luck, it’ll be Americans at the bottom of the hill.
—I’m getting us out of here!
That is one ugly bicycle. It’s heavy as hell with those milk churns in the back. Perfect for going downhill, and it’s all downhill. I know I’m being stupid. We could wait it out. All we have to do is wait, but I can’t sit still anymore. Even if I get caught, I did my job. They’ll make it if I don’t.
—Stop! Wait for me!
Magnus is following me. Now he’s being stupid. There’s no point in the both of us getting caught. Whatever. His call, not mine. Damn, this hill is steep. I hope I don’t break my neck. I hope Magnus doesn’t break his neck. I don’t think von Braun will like me very much if I get his brother killed.
We’re going too fast! We’re like two rockets speeding through space. Except gravity is working for us, not against us. More weight, more speed. It’s the milk churns. If I get rid of them, it’ll slow me down. Ditch some weight…
I’m getting tunnel vision. The trees are flying by faster than my eyes can focus. We’ll never be able to stop. If there’s anything blocking that path, we’ll drive right into it, or into a tree. It doesn’t matter what it is. If it’s solid, we’re doomed. What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object? You split your skull open, that’s what happens.
I need both hands on the handlebar to keep the bicycle straight. This. Is. Not. Goooood.
I see someone down there. Forget the someone. I see a ditch. There’s a fucking ditch!
—MAGNUS! WATCH OUT!
This is gonna hurt. OOOOOOOHHH NOOOOOOOO!
That pop. I dislocated my shoulder. Damn it hur—
—ON YOUR KNEES! NOW!
—No! Don’t shoot! PLEASE DON’T SHOOT!
I can’t tell if it’s a German muzzle I feel on my neck or an American one. I’m sure the bullets feel the same. I can’t feel it anymore. Whoever it is, he’s coming around.
—Do you speak English, miss?
—I… Yes, I do. What’s your name?
—PFC Frederick Schneikert. I need to see your hands, miss. Raise your hands.
Schneikert? But he speaks English. This is confusing.
—Who are you with, PFC Schneikert?
—324th Infantry Regiment, 44th Infantry Division.
Americans. We made it.
17
Going Home
My daughter has returned to me. She led von Braun and the best of his people into the hands of the Americans. She accomplished her mission, but all that matters to me is that she is safe and sound. I can tell it was not easy for her. She has been distant ever since she came home.
—Say what’s on your mind, Mia.
If there is one thing we do not do well, it is hide things from one another. She saw things, or did things, that she was not prepared for.
—It’s okay, Mother. I don’t want to talk about it.
Of course she does. She does not know how.
—What happened in Germany, Mia? Did anyone hurt you?
—No, Mother. No one hurt me. I’m fine.
—Obviously, you are not. Why did you not come back when I asked you to? I know you received my message.
—I couldn’t.
—What do you mean you cou—
—Mother, stop! Have you…
—Yes?
—Have you ever done bad things because you thought you had to?
She’s killed.
—What did you do, Mia? You can tell me.
—…
I did not want to talk about it either. I was thirteen. The war had not ended yet. A German police officer stopped me on the street and asked for my papers; I did not have them. He said… He said it was people like me that ruined his country. He said he thought about “my kind” every time he had to eat turnip. The Jews, the immigrants were eating what little food there was, taking it away from the “real Germans.” He was going to take me in, said I would go back to where I came from. He offered to give me a chance, one chance because he was a nice guy. That chance meant I had to go with him behind the post office. I did. I was scared beyond words. I thought he would send me away and I would never see my mother again. I grabbed a steel bar from a pile of rubble while he undid his belt. I remember being surprised at how hard it was to break through skin with a blunt object. He was strong, and struggling for his life. I gave up trying to impale him after a few tries. I shoved the iron bar inside his mouth and pushed through his palate. I was still shaking when I got home. I could not tell my mother. I was afraid we would have to move again because of me. Mother knew right away. She came into my room, stroked my hair, and asked: “Was he a bad man?” I nodded. She said: “Survive at all costs, Sara. You’re alive. That means you did good.”