He was falling, falling, falling... and he didn’t care at all.
Chapter Five
3 March 1945, Gollnow, Pomerania
‘They are ringing the church bells. Can you hear them?’ Elsa knelt by her grandfather’s chair and stroked his frail hand. Since her mother had left, he had withered, along with his mind.His deterioration is due to a bleed on the brain, his doctor had said before he had left. It was not the diagnosis Elsa had wanted to hear. ‘It is time to leave,’ she encouraged softly.
Gustav’s gaze met hers. ‘Go where?’
‘To Bremen. We talked about this.’
‘No we didn’t.’
Elsa sighed. ‘Yes we did. Last night, remember? People are saying the Russians are fighting in the outlying villages and that they will be here any day now.’
He tilted his head. ‘I hear bells. Why are they ringing St Catherine’s bells?’
‘To tell us we must leave. They have been ringing all morning.’ The town was in utter chaos, but she would not tell him that. ‘I’ve found us a ride. Herr Fellhaber is leaving and taking his mother in a wagon. You can sit beside her.’ It was quite an achievement, but she fought to control the elation and urgency she felt as it would only upset him.
‘But I don’t want to leave.’
‘I know, but everyone is leaving now. Most are heading for the station in the hope of travelling west.’ Artillery fire peppered the air outside and she found herself cowering beside his chair. The British and Americans had complete control of the sky now and were strafing the ground with bullets, killing German soldiers and civilians alike. Her patience snapped. ‘We must leave now.Today.’
His watery smile gave her little hope that he truly understood how dire their situation had become. Elsa wished she still had such ignorance. In the last few days everyone appeared to be fleeing. She did not tell her grandfather of the awful thing she had been told yesterday: some parents were murdering their own children, and then killing themselves, in terror at being captured by the Russian Army. Every day more news reached them about the reprisals being meted out to German civilians. Elsa would have left many weeks ago if it had not been for her grandfather’s ill health and rapid deterioration.
His attention had slipped again. ‘Sauerbraten. Can we have Sauerbraten?’
Elsa shook her head. ‘No, we can’t. Not today. We don’t have the meat.’ She quickly gathered their identification papers and ration cards and slipped them into the lining of her coat.
‘Hasenpfeffer?’
‘I told you, I don’t have any meat. Not even rabbit.’ She fetched his coat and cajoled him into standing. ‘It’s cold outside and Herr Fellhaber will be here any minute.’ He obeyed like a child, threading his arms through the sleeves in turn as if they had all the time in the world. ‘Now sit down. I’ll let you know when he has arrived. I promised the Pastor Bähr I would tell him I was leaving. I’ll be back in a minute.’
Elsa ran out of the house, down the street and knocked on the pastor’s door. She would not linger; Herr Fellhaber could arrive at any minute. The door opened immediately and, to her shock, the pastor pulled her inside.
‘Are you leaving today?’ he asked excitedly, gesturing her into his study.
She followed him. ‘Yes. Are you sure you won’t come with us?’
‘I am sure, but I have something for you.’ He went to his desk and pulled out the top drawer. As he rummaged throughit, Elsa couldn’t resist looking around the room — she had never been invited inside before. A bookshelf stood erect against one wall, crammed with books. The writing desk he was searching was covered in an assortment of scattered stationery, under a single lamp. A vacant, threadbare chair stood by the fire grate, still showing a single indentation of its occupier in its sagging upholstery. He found some documents with a cry of triumph.
‘What are these?’ she asked as he handed them to her. The first document was a recent Christian baptism certificate signed by the pastor. The second was a birth certificate of a girl named Klara Scheider, who had been born at the end of 1939, in Bremen.
She looked up at him.
‘I want you to take this girl with you.’
‘Where is her family?’
‘You are her family... if you will take her.’
Elsa swallowed. ‘I... don’t understand.’You know what he is asking you.
‘Her real name is Miriam Sara Leske.’
‘Sara? She is a Jew?’ she asked needlessly. Since 1938 Jewish women and girls had been forced by legislation to adopt the middle name Sara, while men and boys had to use the name Israel. She lifted the documents. ‘So these are false.’
He nodded. ‘Klara doesn’t know her real name. It was thought best she doesn’t so she can’t accidentally expose her true identity.’
