“Perhaps not.”
“No. They have to. If they win the big battle that’s coming up they will turn and finish us off. Even if they lose that battle, they’re likely to take out their anger on us. We’d be such a convenient target. Lis, I am just so afraid for you. I can’t stand the thought of anything happening to you. God, I just found you.”
“Well, I’m worried about you too.”
“Yeah, but I’ve thought about it and there’s an ugly irony in all this. I’m a soldier. If the U.S. is defeated in the west, Miller may just think this whole thing is hopeless and surrender. In a way, it would be the only honorable thing to do, If that happens, I’ll be a prisoner of war. Maybe I’ll be in Siberia, but at least I’ll be alive.”
Although maybe only for a while, he thought. “As a civilian, God only knows what might happen to you. There’s no way the Russians would protect what they see as German civilians.”
Again Elisabeth could not argue. She had talked to too many of the women about their experiences at the hands of the Reds. While the better frontline Russian soldiers were likely to treat civilians with a degree of respect, the ones that followed-the Asians, penal battalions, and others-were the ones who raped and murdered, and these were the ones surrounding Potsdam.
“Jack, I should tell you something. Don’t worry about me being taken by the Russians. It won’t happen.”
“Why?” he asked, dreading the answer.
She turned her head and looked at the rain. It was too difficult to face him directly. “Dear Jack, in the shelter we have formed a number of small groups. When the time comes, one of the group will help the others to commit suicide. We have accumulated a small supply of poisons and some very sharp scalpels and knives. The leaders will kill anyone who wishes it, quickly and in the most painless manner possible, and then commit suicide themselves. I’ve arranged for that to happen to both Pauli and me, and no, I’m not one of the leaders. I don’t think I could go that far.”
Logan sagged from the pain the thought gave him. It was just all too awful. Elisabeth Wolf was the most wonderful person he had ever met. She was not just a desirable woman; he thought of her as a beautiful, warm, and intelligent human being. It was just too horrible to think she might die in this ruinous place without ever having lived a full life, which, greedily, he wanted to live with her.
A part of him said she was right. Was she obligated to permit herself and Pauli to be violated and then murdered, which they both knew would be their fates if Potsdam was either surrendered or conquered? When he considered the alternatives, he saw there were none. He knew he too would consider suicide in battle as an alternative to a lingering and horrible death if he had to. At least in battle he could go down killing some of the enemy. Perhaps that would be an acceptable alternative to life in a Siberian camp? Everyone had heard rumors that the labor camps were almost as awful as the Nazi death camps. How could he even think of living as a prisoner if Elisabeth was dead?
Jack wondered what a priest or minister would say to her and the others in these circumstances. What other alternatives would a man of God give her, since just about every faith condemned suicide? He had no doubt that a merciful God would understand; that is, if any God that permitted all this to happen could be considered merciful.
Elisabeth separated from him and shook his arm. “No more talk of death. I can’t handle it any more than you can.” She reached behind her neck and pulled out a flat package she kept on a string around her neck. He had noticed the string before, and she had commented only that it was a special necklace. “Take a look at this.”
The package contained a small number of documents. He recognized her and Pauli’s birth certificates. Hers confirmed that she had been born in a small hospital in Toronto. There were two other items: her Canadian and German passports.
“There,” she said, handing him one. “Have you ever seen anything quite so silly?”
Elisabeth was younger in the Canadian passport. He checked the dates. She had been twelve years old. A dark-haired and bright-eyed child stared out at him. Despite attempts by the photographer to dehumanize her, he could see the sparkle of humor in her expression.
The German passport was three years newer, when she was fifteen. This time it was a girl on the verge of womanhood. Once again, the photographer had failed to imprison her.
“You’re beautiful,” he said.
“I was skinny and flat-chested.” She thought for a second. “Just like now.” She took the documents from him and put them away. “I always carry them, along with a couple of photographs of my parents and Pauli’s. If we should get out of here, those documents are my proof that I can go to Canada. The photographs will always remind me of the family I’ve lost. Even if I never leave, they are talismans that tell me there is another world, and it’s just my bad fortune to have to live in this one at this time. At least I’m not alone, Jack. I have you. I don’t think I could face anything without you.”
With that she moved into his arms and they held each other. They said nothing. There was nothing more they could say.
CHAPTER 26
“Hey, buddy. I’m Chuck Ames and I’m with Reuters News Service. Mind if we talk?”
Logan shrugged. The reporter was staring at him as if daring him to say no. “Sure, but you might not find anything interesting. I don’t know too many military secrets. Even my family thinks I’m dull.”
“You’d be surprised how interesting you might be, Lieutenant. Along with the big-picture news, I’m filing a bunch of stories about ordinary soldiers. Kind of like what Ernie Pyle was doing, only he was a lot better.”
At least Ames hadn’t said he was better than Ernie Pyle, the legendary correspondent who’d been killed a short while back in the Pacific after spending most of his time writing about the war in Europe.
“I met Pyle a couple of times,” Ames went on. “Helluva loss. Regardless, I want to do a little of what he did and talk to regular Joes. If my editors like what I write, it’ll be published and your folks at home will get to read about you.”
Jack nodded. “That, I’d like.”
General Miller had given Ames permission to use the army’s radios along with his own during downtime and subject to censorship. He was writing copious notes and planned to turn this adventure into a book when he got home. He was almost forty and thought it was about time he did something to get really noticed. Sneaking into Potsdam in a “borrowed” plane might just have been his last chance before the war ended and he went back to being a small-time reporter.
Ames asked routine questions, and Jack responded about his home, family, schooling, ambitions, and a ton of personal stuff he hadn’t thought about in a while, and he started to get emotional about it. Ames turned away and gave Jack a moment. He’d seen that reaction all too often. Home was another world, and many GIs had walled themselves away from it.
“And maybe finally,” Ames said, “what about a girlfriend? Got one?”
Jack smiled. “I hope so.”
Ames continued to scribble in his notepad. “She back home in Michigan?”
“Nope. She’s here.”
Ames blinked. “What? Oh, Christ, now I know who you are. I’ve seen you with that young German girl.”
“Are we that obvious?”
Ames laughed. “Damned straight, you are. You’re either the luckiest man in the world or the smartest. How the hell did you find a young woman like her in a hell hole like this?”
Jack gave him a summary of how they’d met and a little of her background. “If you want some more personal stuff from her, I think it’d be better if she told you and not me.”
“Nasty?”
“Some of it. Even so, she was luckier than most.”
Ames understood. The girl hadn’t been raped. They shook hands. Ames checked his notes. Ordinarily it would be just another human-interest story, but Logan’s finding a girl in Potsdam was a good one. He would look up the girl and interview her as well. Maybe something about love and romance in the middle of war and the squalor of Potsdam would play well back home.