“The Americans,” Dietrich echoes. “Are we trying to stop them?” His question comes with haste as if Herr Berger wouldhave that level of information. Dietrich is the one who solidly belongs to the SS. If he wasn’t made aware before the radio broadcasted the news, I’m not sure how much information is available.
“Yes, the Luftwaffe is pushing against them, of course,” Herr Berger says.
“We should be far enough away but it’s best to take precaution,” Papa says.
Though my mind is running rampant with fear and concerns for everyone’s well-being, Dachau seems to have been purposely hidden away from the city for a reason. Therefore, Papa is likely correct about his assumptions.
“Did you warn the others?” I ask. “Gerty’s parents? And Felix’s?”
“Yes, yes, of course. We warned everyone to get out of the city if they could,” Papa says.
Once the commotion settles, our focus solely returns to Otto, who is in the process of being injected. “Wait!” I shout at Dietrich.
“Wait!You must listen. This will help him. He’s my nephew. I don’t want anything to happen to him, my dear,” Dietrich says, calm as he always is when the world around him is in a panic.
“You said you’ve been doing everything you can these several weeks,” Herr Berger says to his brother. “He hasn’t shown any sign of improvement. Is there something you aren’t telling us? Because if so, I suggest you say it now.” Herr Berger’s face is beet red, and his veins are pulsating at his temples. I’ve never seen or heard this level of anger from Herr Berger before.
“Hasn’t shown any signs of improvement,” Dietrich mutters. “There’s no official cure for rheumatic fever. I’ve told you this. Each patient reacts differently. Some have milder cases than others. Then, there are some who end up with complicationsfrom the initial manifestations, which is what I’m trying to resolve with the chloroquine phosphate.”
“Is he going to die?” Frau Berger asks, her voice high-pitched, caught in her throat.
“No,” I reply before Dietrich does. “No, he’s not going to die.”
Dietrich’s gaze fixates on mine and though I want to look away, I feel frozen, stuck, being forced to accept a truth I’m not ready to come to terms with.
The room becomes quiet after the last round of ramblings, and Otto has fallen asleep, likely as a result of the injection. I watch his chest move up and down at an even pace and try to focus on the moment instead of what may or may not happen.
Papa leaves the utility room and steps into Otto’s office down the hall before returning with the radio he keeps on his desk. He turns the power dial, finding nothing but static. I know Otto keeps the radio on one frequency but depending on where the broadcast is coming from, we may have to find another source. It takes Papa a couple of minutes before finding a broadcast clear enough to make out.
…under fire. Airfields and manufacturing facilities from Friedrichshafen to Leipheim have been hit. The German Luftwaffe is in flight on the defense from the Swiss border to Stuttgart and Munich. With the head-on, heavy artillery battle, it is recommended to take cover, get to low ground, and move away from the center of cities, airfields, and manufacturing facilities immediately.
Once Papa turns down the radio, the distant alarm of sirens grows louder outside. Jets fly overhead, leaving us with nothing more than a zing following in the path of their engines.The floors vibrate, sometimes mildly, other times more aggressively,and the screams of speeding engines sound much closer than they are, but I can’t convince myself we aren’t within a target zone.What if someone is aiming at Dachau? Does Danner know to take cover? I don’t know if there’s somewhere to hide there. After all he’s survived, he could be sitting beneath a falling bomb. I close my eyes and pray.
Please, keep us safe—keep the innocent at Dachau safe. Spare us after we have fought so hard to stay alive. Please, God. Please.
I’ve been sitting in a corner, holding my knees to my chest as if my legs will protect me like armor, but I’m scared. Any second could be the last and that will be it, and I don’t know what comes next. There’s no next. We don’t get another chance, ever. Forever, is an infinite amount of time to question what becomes of us after we die.
The night has caved in on us, wrapping the house in a blanket of darkness with only the glow from a gas lantern in the center of the room. All four parents and Dietrich have fallen asleep, somehow, despite the continuous rumbles. To be asleep is better than to be awake, in case we’re hit.
“Emi,” a hoarse whisper sharply grasps my attention. Otto is awake and staring at me through the flickering glow.
I crawl over to his side and take his hand within mine. “How are you feeling?”
“Tired,” he says.
“Your stomach?”
He shrugs, the movement so slight I’m surprised I noticed. “Not as awful as before.”
“That’s great. Maybe you’re turning a corner.” I haven’t seen him this complacent in weeks.”Wouldn’t that be nice? We can get our lives back on track and?—”
“Emi, why are we down here? What’s going on?”
I smooth his hair off his forehead. “It’s okay, don’t worry. It’s just to be safe,” I tell him, not wanting to add any unnecessary stress to his clouded mind.
“And our parents, Dietrich? Why are they all here?”
I squeeze his hand a bit tighter and keep my voice soft to avoid startling him. “Munich is under attack.”
