War Girls Complete Collection Chapter 341

Chapter 8

Berlin, February 1946

T

hinking of Johann every single day, Lotte worried about his fate. Rumors about the deplorable treatment of German prisoners of war by the Russians abounded, but Lotte refused to dwell on them, hoping they were just that: rumors.

One day after work she was lying on the sofa listening to a radio program when a knock sounded at the apartment door. She was the only person in the apartment, since the rest of the family had gone out to run errands.

With a deep sigh she got up and dragged her tired bones to the door, already formulating a snide remark for whoever had forgotten his or her keys and disturbed her well-earned rest. Even after her body had adjusted to the backbreaking work as a

Trümmerfrau

, one of the women clearing the rubble from Berlin, she returned home every evening with aching bones and raw hands.

“What…?” She peered at the most haggard, ill-looking man she’d ever seen. There was barely a hair on his head and every inch of exposed skin was covered in red dots, some of them oozing pus.

His hollow eyes focused on her with some difficulty and he said, “I’m looking for Alexandra Wagner.”

The words were a punch to her stomach, and she gasped for breath. Nobody she knew used her fake name anymore. “Who are you?”

“A comrade of Johann.”

Her heart melted and she gave the man a once-over. It wasn’t the wisest thing to do, inviting a bedraggled stranger into her home when she was alone. But despite his dreadful appearance, she was certain he wouldn’t pose a threat to her.

“I’m Alexandra. Would you like to come inside?” she asked, only to wish she hadn’t as an appalling stench wafted into her nostrils when he agreed. Forcing down the vomit coming up her throat she led him into the kitchen.

“Please have a seat. Do you want a glass of water?” He greedily nodded and she added, “And something to eat?”

“That would be grand.” His smile bared a row of black and broken teeth.

Lotte turned her head away at the foul stench leaving his mouth and filled a glass with water, before she rummaged through the pantry to find a piece of bread and some cheese.

“Here you go.” She sat across the table, a safe distance from him, trying not to stare at the oozing dots on his face, neck and hands.

“Thank you.” He emptied the glass of water and then began talking. “I’m Karsten. Your fiancé Leutnant Johann Hauser and I were together in a Russian POW camp in Voronezh.”

Lotte hissed and thousands of questions attacked her, but she didn’t interrupt his laborious speech, which was only interrupted by careful chewing of the bread she’d given him.

“They let me go, because,” he scoffed and gestured to his body, “as you can see, I’m of no use to them anymore. I’m too sick to work. Johann gave me a letter for you, but it was confiscated by the bloody Soviets before I crossed the border. So I can only give you this.” He took a tiny piece of wood from his pocket. “He made this for you, so you have something to remember him by.”

A wave of emotions washed over her, and she had to will away the tears forming in her eyes as she took the wood and looked at it. It had the form of a body and traces of a face, and with much imagination she recognized it was indeed a doll resembling Johann.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice trembling. “Is he… well?”

“

Well

is a word I wouldn’t use to describe any of my comrades, but he’s alive and in a much better condition than I am. Although it was only my deplorable condition that caused them to send me home.” He stared at her. “You are exactly like he described. Beautiful. He said to let you know he loves you very much and only the thought of returning to you makes him stay strong day after day.”

Tears ran unchecked down Lotte’s cheeks and she squeezed the wooden doll in her hand. “Thank you so much for going to the trouble to come here and find me. You can’t imagine how much this news means to me.”

“Anything for a dear comrade like Johann. I hope he and the others will return soon.”

“Can I do something else for you?”

“No, thanks. I need to catch my train to Oldenburg and see if I can find my family,” he said, rising.

“God bless you.” Lotte cut another piece of bread, fully aware that she’d go without dinner tonight if she gave it to him. “Here, take this for the journey. I’m sorry, but I don’t have more.”

“That is a lot, actually.” He bared his rotten teeth again in something that might have resembled a smile in another time and place and then left the apartment.

“Who was that man?” Her sister Ursula entered the apartment with a concerned look on her face that shifted into full-blown panic when she saw the traces of tears on her sister’s face. “What did he do to you?”

“Nothing,” Lotte bawled, holding out her hand with the wooden doll. “He’s… a… friend of Johann.”

“That’s good news, isn’t it?” Ursula’s question came out hesitantly.

“I guess. This man, he was a prisoner in the same camp with Johann.”

“That means Johann is still alive, and that is a good thing.” Ursula sat on the sofa beside Lotte and put an arm around her shoulders.

“The Russians confiscated the letter Johann sent me. Why would they even do this?” Lotte wiped the tears from her face.

“I don’t know. Maybe he wrote something the censors didn’t like?”

Another round of sobs shook Lotte’s body. “So we’re back to having censors again? Wasn’t that supposed to end with the Nazi reign?”

“It was, but since Johann is still a prisoner, I guess they still censor the letters.”

Lotte looked at her sister, not knowing whether she should be happy or sad. Her darling was still alive, but after she’d seen Karsten’s deplorable state she wasn’t sure that was a good thing. Another thought tormented her mind and she blurted out, “I don’t even know where Voronezh is!”

“Me neither.” Ursula glanced around the living room. “If Richard was here, we could ask him.” Their brother had spent most of his leisure time with his nose stuck in a book – any book – during their youth.

“Or look it up in his school atlas.” Lotte felt a surge of energy. “I’ll go to the public library tomorrow and find out where Voronezh is. And now I’ll write a letter to Johann.” She got up, leaving a perplexed Ursula on the sofa.

She sat down and wrote,

My dearest Johann,

You can’t imagine my utter joy when your friend Karsten appeared on our doorstep today and brought news about you. He said you were well and alive, but I still worry about you. If this letter reaches you, please let me know if there’s anything you need. If they let me send you a package, I’ll certainly do so.

As for me, I’m fine. I arrived in Berlin last summer after an adventurous evacuation from Norway. Are you up to date with the news? Berlin has been divided into four sectors, one for each of the victorious powers.

The city is completely in ruins; it’s a miracle that our building is still standing. I took on work as a Trümmerfrau, removing the debris to build new things. It’s a tough job, but I won’t complain. I’m fine.

She rubbed her aching back; unsure what else she should tell him. She didn’t want to sound negative, didn’t want to complain about hunger, cold and the miserable living conditions in Berlin. The way Karsten had looked, conditions in Russia must be much more deplorable than she could even imagine.

My father is still not home, but Anna, Ursula, Richard, and Mutter, they all survived the war. I shall hope that you will meet them very soon.

You remember, Gerlinde, my friend from Warsaw? She stayed in Hamburg looking for her own family.

Now that she thought about it, she regretted that she hadn’t asked Karsten about Johann’s parents. Would he give them the message, too? Or should she do this? She’d never met them, but Johann had given her their address in Munich. Yes, she’d write a letter to them, too. His mother must be worried sick about her only son.

I’m going to give your parents the happy news that you are alive, and once I hear back from them, I’ll let you know.

My beloved darling, I think of you every waking minute and dream of you every night. My biggest wish is for you to return soon and hold me in your arms.

Love forever,

Lotte

She put

a kiss on the paper and traced the barely visible mark with her pen. Then she assessed her work and drew a heart next to it. She folded the letter and put it into an envelope, addressing it to Leutnant Johann Hauser, POW Camp, Voronezh, Russia

The next day before work, she went to the Red Cross office to send the letter. The friendly woman at the reception couldn’t promise the letter would reach its recipient, because they’d had some difficulties getting the Russian authorities to actually distribute the stacks of mail sent via the Red Cross. But she encouraged Lotte to return every month with a new letter, because a letter not sent never had a chance to be delivered.