CHAPTER THIRTY
BEYOND THE BREACH
JOHANNA
July 19, 1944
Berlin, Germany
The dark circles under Harald’s eyes grew more cavernous with each passing day. His words were fewer, and his face became gaunt. The war ate at him like a cancer for which the only cure was peace. He was now coming home in the middle of the night most times, and Mama couldn’t keep herself awake even long enough to bid him good night. I’d taken to eating my dinner with her at a normal hour but fixing myself a little plate of something so that Harald wouldn’t feel like he was dining alone. I placed sausage, potatoes, and fresh greens before him, but he only moved the food around the plate with his fork. Though he didn’t speak of it, the tide of the war had changed. Whether there had been a major advance by the Allies or some catastrophic loss, I didn’t know yet, but the general tenor of anyone in service had become far more strained in recent weeks.
“Please eat,” I begged him as he picked at his meal. “You’ll get sick.”
“Please don’t, Liebchen. I know you mean well, but I can’t bear the coddling.”
“Very well,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. “But such waste is unpardonable in times like these.”
He heaved a deep sigh and took a few bites of sausage in earnest. It was gristly and greasy, but there wasn’t any better to be had. It was at least warm and restorative, so long as you didn’t think about what might be in it.
He cleared half his plate before shoving it away. I put the leftovers into a bowl and placed them in the icebox for later. Rationing was becoming strict enough that we didn’t dare waste a scrap. He was never much of a drinker, sipping coyly at the same glass of champagne for an entire evening during social occasions, but tonight he poured a generous tumbler of the brandy we kept on hand for illness.
“Johanna,” he said, staring at the wall rather than me and taking a deep drink from his glass. “Do you think you could confiscate a plane?”
I only just managed to keep the dishes from clattering into the sink. “How do you mean?”
“Take one on a test flight and simply not return.” He took another drink from his brandy glass and removed a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his breast pocket. Another new habit. I handed him a saucer to use for his ash, as we weren’t in the habit of keeping ashtrays in the house.
I’d been waiting for a question like this for weeks. Either that or a troop of jackbooted thugs at my door ready to haul me in for inquiry. I wasn’t sure which I feared more.
“It’s possible, I suppose. Though it would cost me my wings, my clearances, and possibly my honorary Aryan status,” I said, reminding him of what was at stake.
“Would you do it if I asked?” he pressed.
“If it was a matter of life or death, yes,” I said.
“It is,” he said.
“Harald, what on earth is going on? Tell me what you have planned. I know you’ve been plotting something for weeks now, and I’m tired of you not trusting me with it.”
“You’re safer not knowing. I promise you.”
“You’re asking me to help. Don’t you think I’d be better off knowing what you’re getting me involved in?”
“No, the less you know, the fewer questions you can answer if things go badly.”
“Perhaps I feel like I need to know what you’re doing before I agree. Did you ever consider that possibility?”
“I need you to trust me, Johanna. I haven’t asked for blind faith from you very often, but this is one of those times.”
I bowed my head and rubbed my eyes with the tips of my fingers. It was true. He consulted me far more than many other husbands thought to do with their wives. He didn’t think of me as subservient or lesser in our marriage—he referred to it as a partnership of equals even when it wasn’t politically prudent to do so. If he needed to withhold information from me now, it wasn’t without reason.
“I’ll do it,” I said.
“Do you have any flights scheduled tomorrow? I don’t want you to schedule anything new or do anything out of the ordinary.”
“I have one on the books for tomorrow at two in the afternoon. A few later in the week.”
“Tomorrow will have to do,” he said. “Probably best to have it done with as soon as possible now that you know something is going on.”
“I wish you’d tell me,” I said, though with no expectation that he would change his mind.
“All you need to know is that I’m doing what I hope will end the war sooner rather than later. And don’t expect to return to this home. Perhaps ever. We’ll have to leave everything behind.”
“What about Mama?” I said, my eyes flitting to the door of the room where she slept completely and blissfully unaware.
“Send her back to the farm first thing in the morning. Get her on the six a.m. train if you can get a ticket. Tell her nothing other than that you think she might be safer up in the mountains with all the air raids we’re having. Invent a story if you must. You’re creative and she’ll believe whatever you tell her.”
“What about Metta and Oskar?”
“Not a word. Not a single word or this will all be for nothing. Do you understand me?”
“Yes,” I said. The pang in my chest was so strong it was almost crippling, but I didn’t let him see me flinch. The thought of never seeing my sister or brother again was beyond any pain I could articulate.
“This is the only way, Johanna. I wish it were different, but it isn’t. You have to trust me that this is the only way for us.”
“Of course I trust you, my Knuddelbär.” I crossed from the sink to kiss his temple. “Just tell me what to do, and I’ll be waiting.”
He patted my hand and we climbed into our bed. In my bones, I knew it would be for the last time, and even as Harald’s breathing grew even and deep, I could not find it within myself to succumb to sleep.
It was just as well I was unable to sleep. I had breakfast ready by four in the morning and was able to get Mama ushered to the train station with most of her belongings in tow in time for the six o’clock train. Harald left for work as we were packing, his face set in concentration thick as concrete. Mama wondered why I insisted she take the sentimental items like her photographs and a vase of her mother’s, and yet urged her to leave behind some more practical items like her heavy winter boots and coat. To her credit, she did not question why I sent her from the house.
She’d have a much easier time replacing those items come winter, as she wasn’t likely to see this house again. I considered asking a neighbor to post the rest of her belongings to her, but even such a small maneuver could be enough to attract attention. It was best that Mama look as though she were just going home for a few weeks to check on the farm and her personal affairs.
I went to the ticket counter and purchased a return fare, which would have her back in two weeks. Again, a one-way ticket might alert suspicion if anyone took the trouble to investigate it.
I pulled her close as though in a farewell hug. “Do not come back unless we send word and you are certain that word comes from Harald or me. Understand?”