“I’ve already given them my word,” Herman said. “And you’ll find it easier to… to work if I’m not around.”
He sighed heavily, feeling an odd surge of bitter hopelessness. Nothing was the same any longer. And he was really too old to learn new tricks. He’d thought everything was predictable, a year ago; his sons would serve in the military, marry good women and sire children, while his daughter would become a housewife, bearing and raising the children of a good man. But now his daughter was a revolutionary, the country was gripped by civil war, and his wife wanted a career outside the home. And his entire family had been marked for death.
If I’d stopped Gudrun from going to university, he thought, would she be free now?
It was a bitter thought. He’d known how much the university meant to her, even though she couldn’t really do anything with a degree. What sort of man would be comfortable taking orders from a woman? Or hiring one, when there were plenty of male candidates for any given job? He’d honestly thought she was wasting her time. Hell, she could have gotten married at seventeen and had two or three children by now. No one would have thought any worse of her if she’d dropped out of school to marry and have kids. But instead…
“I can’t stay here and worry,” he admitted. “I have to keep myself occupied.”
Adelinde lowered her eyes. “Then take care of yourself,” she said. She looked up at him, her eyes wet with tears. “And come back to me.”
Herman gave her a tight hug. He loved his wife. He’d loved her ever since he’d married her; he’d loved her, even when money had gotten tight and they’d had arguments that could probably be heard down the street. They’d lived together for twenty-five years; they’d raised their children together. And even now, even when he didn’t feel as though he understood the world any longer, he still loved her.
“I’ll come back,” he promised.
He kissed her once, tenderly, then picked up his jacket and walked out the door, heading down to the gates. The soldiers on duty saluted him as he passed; he saluted them back, then kept walking. He’d never really felt comfortable being feted, particularly as he hadn’t earned it in his own right. It was why he’d stayed a policeman after Gudrun had become a politician, even though he could have traded on her connections to rise in the ranks. He wouldn’t have felt comfortable boosting his own position.
And I don’t know what’s happened to her, he thought, numbly. Where is she?
He pushed the thought aside, somehow, as he made his way through the streets. Berlin felt different these days, now the siege was at an end. The massive street parties had faded, replaced by deserted houses as the older members of the city’s population were evacuated west and the younger members were pushed into the army. Even the young women had been given jobs, helping to clear the streets of rubble and keeping the city running. Herman couldn’t help wondering just what would happen in the future, now that Gudrun had shown that it was possible for a woman — a woman who was practically still a girl — to overthrow the government. Women wouldn’t remain subservient any longer.
The camp had been erected on the far side of the city, one of many providing refresher training to young men who had either left the military or had never served past the Hitler Youth. Herman joined the line of younger and middle-aged men and waited patiently until the guard checked his papers, then followed the pointing finger into the nearest set of barracks. A doctor gave him a quick check-up — he couldn’t help noticing that he was assisted by a pair of BDM maidens, something that would have been unthinkable in his day — before ordering him into the next room. Herman stepped through the door and joined another line of prospective soldiers, almost all of whom seemed to be middle-aged. He recognised a couple from the police and walked over to join them. The others seemed to be workers from all over the city.
They’ll have gotten their release from their employers, he thought, as a trio of NCOs ordered the men through another set of doors and onto the training field. They wouldn’t have been allowed to sign up without it.
He pushed the thought aside as the NCOs started to bark orders, putting the men through their paces. It was… kinder than he recalled, back when he’d been a paratrooper; he wondered, absently, if it was a subtle blessing or an unsubtle insult. He wasn’t the young man he’d been in those days, he knew; he was more mature, more controlled, but also less fit. He dreaded to think what the Hitler Youth would have done, if he’d turned up in such a state. Public humiliation would have been the least of it.
The memory made him shiver. There had been a boy in his class, a smart boy who’d been unfortunate enough to be a little pudgy. The Hitler Youth had put him through hell, mocking his weight, forcing him to humiliate himself time and time again… in the end, the boy had committed suicide and the instructors had just laughed, pointing to him as a prime example of a weak failure of a man. His parents had done nothing… Herman had no idea if they’d tried and failed, or if they’d hoped the Hitler Youth would make a man of their son. And now…
He could have kicked his past self for laughing. They’d laughed and joked about taking everything that was dumped on them, from endless exercises and forced marches to savage — often sadistic — corporal punishment. His own father had told him that pain was weakness leaving the body. But Herman had never been singled out, never been mocked in front of the entire class. Who knew what would have become of him if he had?
The Hitler Youth will not survive the coming years, he told himself, as the exercise routine finally came to an end. And the BDM has already been disbanded. Gudrun saw to it personally.
“Those of you who survived are being assigned to a rifle company,” the lead NCO bellowed, his voice shaking the parade ground. Herman looked around and discovered, to his shock, that a third of the volunteers had dropped out. He hoped, grimly, that it meant they’d merely discovered they couldn’t continue. “You’ll be issued weapons, then marched to the shooting range.”
And hope to hell we have enough bullets to sight our rifles properly, Herman thought, as they were marched to the next set of barracks. If we are short of ammunition, we may be in some trouble.
He gritted his teeth, feeling his body ache as he marched. Once, he’d marched over forty miles in a single day; now, he felt old and drained from a handful of exercises. Being a policeman in Berlin had seemed hard, but he should have known it was far — far — easier than being a soldier. Old age had crept up on him without him ever realising it. He winced as they walked past a group of younger men, the youngest barely old enough to shave. They looked far more energetic than the older men.
But we have to do what we can, Herman told himself, firmly. There’s nothing else we can do.
“You don’t look American,” a voice said, as Andrew stepped into the office. “That’s probably a good thing.”
“Thank you, Herr Oberleutnant,” Andrew said. “Can I pass for a Heer officer?”
Oberleutnant Sebastian Riemer looked Andrew up and down thoughtfully. “Probably not,” he said, after a moment. “Your German is perfect, but your pose is subtly wrong — you’d probably alarm anyone if you tried to take command.”