“Your friend is in pretty bad shape, what happened to her?” he asked.
“The usual.” Marlene cast her eyes downward, attacked by disturbing memories. He seemed to understand, because he laid a gentle hand on Marlene’s shoulder, as if to take away the burden weighing her down. She gave him a grateful smile. It had been a long time since she had received sympathy and compassion. Usually she was the one to console others.
In a move that was completely uncharacteristic for her, but too powerful to resist, she slung her arms around his back and pressed her face against his chest. No tears rolled down her face, but dry sobs shook her entire body, while he soothed her pain with long strokes of his hands down her back.
“Please, Fräulein, don’t cry. It’s over. You’re safe here,” he murmured again and again.
She knew he was lying, because nobody was safe in Berlin. The Russians could do whatever they wanted, even though the Americans had finally arrived a few days earlier, ending two months of agonizing Russian hegemony. Maybe now the constant raping, looting, robbing, and murdering would stop.
As her sobs eased, she became aware of her embarrassing behavior. Throwing herself at a virtual stranger, for the sole reason that he’d shown her some empathy that nowadays seemed to be in short supply. With a heated face, she stepped out of his arms, straightened her skirt and said, “Please forgive my inappropriate behavior Herr Tauber.”
His smile was sad and knowing. “No need to worry, Fräulein, we all need a shoulder to lean on once in a while. But please call me Georg.”
“I am Marlene.” She returned his smile, wondering what his life’s story was. His eyes didn’t feature the defeated look of desolation most everyone else wore these days, instead they showed a suffering so overwhelming, it caused her physical pain. The shadows of his suffering went far beyond the daily struggle of survival experienced by every citizen in Berlin.
He wriggled under her scrutinizing stare and said, “Let’s look after your sick friend, shall we?”
Zara was passed out cold on the cot, her skin heating up like an oven.
“She’s not over the hump yet, the fever is back,” George said. “I’m afraid she has developed an infection and will need penicillin.”
“How do you know all of this?”
“Because I studied medicine. I was in my sixth semester, when I was drafted into the Wehrmacht.”
“Oh,” she said, wondering why he wasn’t a prisoner of war.
Georg apparently could read her mind, or perhaps he simply had been asked that same question many times before, because he explained, “I served as a medic on the Eastern Front for about a year, before I returned to continue my studies. But it never came to that, since the Nazis didn’t like me accusing them of the atrocities committed in Russia and sent me to the Mauthausen concentration camp instead.”
“Oh.” This certainly explained the pained expression in his eyes and his reaction to Zara’s last name. What a grand man he was, helping the daughter of the very man at whose hands he’d suffered so much. She didn’t know what to say, since she had never talked to a camp survivor before. One thousand questions burned on her lips. Was it as bad as they say? What did they do to you? How did you survive? Instead, she studied the tip of her shoes, feeling the shame trickling into every fiber of her body and soul. Could she have known? Should she have known? Could she have done something?
In hindsight, the signs were clear. But like everyone else she had closed her eyes to what was happening. Not even the excuse to have been so young when it started was valid. Despite her tender age, she could have known, could have opposed. Could have begged her parents to do something. But she didn’t. Because she had lived comfortably in the modest luxury her father, a government official, had provided them.
A frightening thought grabbed her. Her father must have known, perhaps even assisted in the awful things. No, no, no, she violently brushed the awful suspicion away. No! Her father was a good man who worked for the labor bureau. He’d never mentioned anything about these crimes. Their home had always been an island of calm in the eye of the storm. She had not even noticed that a war was going on until her two brothers had been drafted in 1941.
Her brother Kurt had written glowing letters from Paris, making it sound like an endless party. A party she had been jealous not to be allowed to join. Only when the English and American bomber squads had begun discharging their deadly cargo over Berlin night after night and day after day, had she finally understood what war really meant.
It meant death, destruction, grief, sorrow, hunger, pain, and cold.
“Hey Marlene, are you all right?” Georg’s voice tore her out of her thoughts.
“I’m fine. I’m just…” she sighed. She felt inadequate to express her sorrows, especially in front of a person who had lived through so much worse than she probably could ever imagine. “…I just have never met anyone who was in a concentration camp.”
He gave her a lopsided smile. “It’s nothing to aspire to.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said.
Before they could continue the conversation, Dr. Ebert entered the room and said, “Marlene, what a surprise! How is your friend?”
“She was getting better, but the walk here has exhausted her and the fever returned,” Marlene answered.
Dr. Ebert shook his head. “You shouldn’t have come here. The walk was too strenuous for her weakened condition.”
Georg joined the conversation, “I’m afraid she has an infection and will need penicillin.”
“And where should I get this?” Dr. Ebert muttered beneath his breath. “It’s not like I can just walk into a pharmacy and buy it.”
Marlene gave a nervous giggle. The idea of doing such a mundane thing like walking into a pharmacy seemed utterly ridiculous, given that Berlin was dubbed the world’s biggest heap of rubble.
“The black market,” Georg said.
“Too dangerous,” Dr. Ebert refused. “I just came from there. The Russians are raiding the area in an attempt to cut down on contraband. We need to wait a few days until the whole commotion settles down.”
“It might be too late by then.”
Marlene’s heart missed a beat as she heard his words. She couldn’t just wait and let Zara die. Something must… Bruni! Her new lover the Russian captain. Maybe he could help. She didn’t tell the two men about her plans.
“I forgot I need to run some errands and will return in the afternoon,” she said, turning on her heels to hurry off.
“Wait, I’ll send Georg with you…” Dr. Ebert shouted after her.
The doctor’s kindness warmed her heart. He was already the second person this day to show honest concern for her. Her parents had long given up caring for anyone or anything besides themselves. She scolded herself for the unworthy thought. Her father had provided many years for the family, he deserved a break. It wasn’t his fault. The desolate situation had gotten to everyone, demoralizing even the bravest and strongest.
And her mother was forgivably stricken with grief, because she hadn’t heard news from either one of her two sons. A flash of anger ripped through Marlene’s body. Her mother would gladly exchange Marlene’s life for the life of one of her sons, since she was just a girl. The flare of fury dissipated as quickly as it had appeared and she came up with excuses for her mother. She doesn’t mean it. She’s overwhelmed, crazy with grief. But a bitter taste remained. She hurried to Bruni’s place hoping to find her friend at home.
“What are you doing here at this ungodly hour?” Bruni opened the door dressed in a nightgown.
Marlene frowned. It was nearing noon and any decent person would be awake. “I need your help.”
“Come in. What’s it this time?” Bruni had the tendency to sound rather obnoxious, but Marlene knew that deep inside her friend was a kindhearted person.