Alone in Berlin (Penguin Modern Classics)

52

The Downcast Hergesells

The Hergesells were taking their first walk together since Trudel’s miscarriage. They followed the road out to Grunheide, then turned left down Frankenweg and followed the shore of Flakensee toward the lock at Woltersdorf.

They walked very slowly, and every so often Karl shot a look at Trudel, walking beside him with downcast eyes.

‘Isn’t it nice in the woods?’ he said.

‘Yes,’ she replied, ‘it’s nice.’

A little later he exclaimed, ‘Look at the swans on the lake!’

‘Yes,’ she answered, ‘the swans…’ And that was all.

‘Trudel,’ he asked in concern, ‘why won’t you talk? Have you lost all feeling for everything?’

‘I keep thinking of our dead baby,’ she whispered.

‘Oh, Trudel,’ he said. ‘We’ll have lots of children yet!’

She shook her head. ‘I’m never going to have a child now.’

He asked anxiously, ‘Did the doctor say something to you?’

‘No, he didn’t. But I can feel it.’

‘No,’ he said. ‘You mustn’t think like that, Trudel. We’re young, we can have plenty of children.’

Again she shook her head. ‘I sometimes think that was my punishment.’

‘Your punishment! What for, Trudel? What have we done, that we deserve to be punished like that? No, it was just an accident, an awful, random accident!’

‘It wasn’t an accident, it was punishment,’ she said obstinately. ‘We weren’t meant to have a baby. I keep having to think what would have happened to Klaus if he’d lived. Hitler Youth or SA or SS…’

‘Goodness, Trudel!’ he exclaimed, startled by the pessimistic thoughts that tormented his wife, ‘if our baby Klaus had lived, all this Hitler stuff would be over. It can’t last much longer, trust me!’

‘Yes,’ she said, ‘but what have we done to secure a better future? Nothing at all! Worse than that: we abandoned the cause. I keep thinking about Grigoleit and Babyface… that’s why we’re being punished…’

‘Ach, bloody Grigoleit!’ he said irritably.

He was furious with Grigoleit, who still hadn’t called to pick up his suitcase.

Hergesell had already had to extend the left-luggage ticket.

‘I think Grigoleit must be in prison,’ he said. ‘Otherwise we would have heard from him.’

‘If he’s in prison,’ she insisted, ‘then it’s our fault. We left him in the lurch.’

‘Trudel!’ he exclaimed. ‘I won’t have you think like that. We’re not cut out to be conspirators. We had no option but to give it up.’

‘Yes,’ she said, ‘but we’re cut out to be shirkers and cowards! You say Klaus wouldn’t have had to join the Hitler Youth. But if that’s right, and if he had been allowed to live, we have to ask ourselves: What would we have we done to deserve his love and respect? What have we done toward a better future? Nothing!’

‘We can’t all play at being conspirators, Trudel!’

‘No, but we could have done something else. If a man like my former father-in-law, Otto Quangel…’ She stopped.

‘Well, what about him? What do you know about him?’

‘No, I’d rather not tell you. I promised him I wouldn’t anyway. But if an old man like Otto Quangel finds it in himself to oppose this state, then I think us sitting on our hands is pathetic!’

‘But what can we do, Trudel? Nothing! Think of all the power Hitler has, and the two of us are nothing at all! There’s nothing we can do!’

‘If everyone thought like that, then Hitler would stay in power for ever. Someone somewhere has to make a start.’

‘But what can we do?’

‘Everything! We could write appeals and put them up on trees! You work in a chemical factory, as an electrician you have the run of the place. You just need to adjust a lever, or loosen a screw on a machine, and many days’ work will be ruined. If you did something like that, and a few hundred others did the same, then pretty soon Hitler would start running out of armaments.’

‘Sure, and the second time I did it, they’d haul me off and execute me!’

‘As I say, we’re cowards. We only think about the consequences for us, not for everyone else. Look, Karli, you’ve been excused military service because your job is so important for the war effort. But if you were a soldier, you’d be risking your life every day, and would find it perfectly natural.’

‘Oh, the Prussians would find me a cushy job in their army!’

‘And you’d let others die in your place! As I keep saying, we’re cowards, we’re worthless cowards!’

‘Those damned stairs!’ he started in. ‘If you hadn’t had your miscarriage, we would have had such a happy life together!’

‘No, it wouldn’t have been happy, not really, Karli! From the moment I knew I had Klaus inside me, I always wondered what would become of him. I wouldn’t have been able to bear it if he’d extended his right arm in the Hitler salute, and I wouldn’t have been able to look at him in a brown shirt. The next time there was some victory to celebrate, he would have seen his parents hang out the swastika bunting, and he would have known we were lying. Well, at least we’ve been spared that. We weren’t meant to have our Klaus, Karli!’

He walked along beside her awhile in grim silence. They were on the way back now, but they had eyes for neither lake nor woods.

Finally he asked, ‘So you really want us to get involved? You want me to do something in the factory?’

‘I do,’ she said. ‘We must do something, Karli, to stop us feeling so ashamed of ourselves!’

He thought awhile, then he said, ‘I can’t help it, Trudel. Slinking around the factory sabotaging machines just isn’t in me.’

‘Well, think of something that is in you, then! You will. It doesn’t have to be right away.’

‘And what about you? Have you thought of something you’d do?’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I know of a Jewish woman in hiding. She was supposed to be put on a transport already. But the people she’s staying with are bad people, and every day she’s afraid she might be betrayed. I’m going to take her in.’

‘No!’ he said. ‘No! Don’t do that, Trudel! The way we’re spied on, it’ll come out right away. And think about ration cards! She’s not going to have one! We’re not going to be able to feed an extra person on our two cards!’

‘Don’t you think? Don’t you think we can starve ourselves a bit, if it means saving another person from death? Oh, Karli, if that’s the truth of it, then Hitler will have an easy job. Then we really are all dirt, and whatever happens to us will serve us right!’

‘But people will see her with us! You can’t hide someone in a tiny flat like ours. I won’t allow it!’

‘I don’t think I need your permission, Karli. It’s my flat as much as yours.’

A quarrel broke out, the first really bad quarrel in their marriage. She said she would just bring the woman back while he was at work, and he told her he would throw the woman out of the house.

‘Then why don’t you throw me out while you’re at it!’

They went as far as that. Both were angry, provoked, aggressive. They couldn’t set the thing aside, no compromise was possible. She was desperate to do something against Hitler, against the war. In principle, he was too, but it mustn’t carry any risk; he wasn’t willing to run the least danger. The thing with the Jewish woman was just mad. He would never allow it!

They walked home in silence through the streets of Erkner. Their silence was so dense, so thick, that it seemed harder and harder to break. They were no longer arm in arm, but walked side by side, not touching. Once, when their hands happened to brush, each quickly pulled back, and then they increased the distance between them.

They didn’t see the large car parked in front of their house. They walked up the stairs and didn’t notice that at every door they were met by curious or angry glances. Karl Hergesell unlocked the door and let Trudel in first. Even in the corridor, they didn’t notice anything. Only when they saw the little stout man in a green jacket standing in their parlour did they give a start.

‘Hello?’ said an indignant Hergesell. ‘What do you think you’re doing in my flat?’

‘Allow me. Detective Inspector Laub, from the Gestapo, Berlin,’ the man in the green jacket introduced himself. He had kept on his little huntsman’s hat with the badger brush.

‘Herr Hergesell? And Frau Gertrud Hergesell, née Baumann, likes to go by the name of Trudel? Excellent! I would like to have a few words in private with your wife, Herr Hergesell. Perhaps you could wait in the kitchen, if you don’t mind.’

They exchanged fearful looks. Then Trudel suddenly broke into a smile. ‘Well, goodbye then, Karli!’ she said, and gave him a hug. ‘I hope things get better. It was stupid of us to quarrel! You never know what’s round the corner!’

Inspector Laub cleared his throat threateningly. They kissed, and Hergesell walked out.

‘Why did you just take leave of your husband like that, Frau Hergesell?’

‘I wanted to make up with him; we’d just had a quarrel.’

‘What did you quarrel about?’

‘About an aunt of mine coming to visit. He didn’t want her to come; I did.’

‘And the sight of me was enough to make you concede? Strange, you don’t seem to have a very clean conscience. Wait a moment now! Stay where you are!’

She heard him talking to Karli in the kitchen. Karli was bound to say the quarrel had been about something else, and this thing had got off to the worst possible start. She had thought right away of Quangel. But it wasn’t like Quangel to give someone away…

The inspector came back. Rubbing his hands with satisfaction, he said, ‘According to your husband, your quarrel was about whether to adopt a child or not. That’s the first lie I’ve caught you in. Now don’t you worry, in the next half hour there’ll be plenty more from you, and I’ll catch you out in all of them! So, you had a miscarriage?’

‘Yes.’

‘I expect you probably helped things along a bit, eh? So that the Führer doesn’t get any more soldiers?’

‘Now you’re lying! If I’d wanted to do something like that, I would hardly have waited till I was in my fifth month.’

A man came in, bearing a piece of paper.

‘Inspector, Herr Hergesell tried to burn this in the kitchen a moment ago.’

‘What is it? A left-luggage ticket. Frau Hergesell, tell us, has your husband deposited a suitcase in the station at Alexanderplatz?’

‘A suitcase? I’ve no idea; my husband never mentioned it to me.’

‘Bring Hergesell in here! I want a man to drive to Alexanderplatz right away and collect the suitcase.’ Another man led Karl Hergesell in. The whole flat was jammed with policemen – and they had simply blundered into it.

‘What’s this suitcase you’ve left in storage at Alexanderplatz?’

‘I don’t know, I’ve never seen inside it. It belongs to an acquaintance. He said there were sheets and clothes in it.’

‘Highly likely! And that would be why you tried to burn the receipt once you noticed there were police around!’

Hergesell hesitated, then, with a swift look at his wife, he said, ‘I did it because I don’t trust my acquaintance. There might be something else inside it. The suitcase is very heavy.’

‘And what do you think it might actually contain, then?’

‘Maybe printed leaflets. I always tried not to think about it.’

‘Tell me about this strange acquaintance of yours, who can’t leave his things in left-luggage by himself? His name wouldn’t be Karl Hergesell by any chance?’

‘No, his name is Schmidt, Heinrich Schmidt.’

‘And how do you come to know him, this – Schmidt?’

‘Oh, I’ve known him a long time, ten years at least.’

‘Why did you think the suitcase might contain printed matter? What sort of man is this Emil Schulz?’

‘Heinrich Schmidt. He was a Social Democrat or a Communist, even. That’s what made me think they might be printed papers.’

‘Where were you born, Herr Hergesell?’

‘Me? In Berlin. In Moabit.’

‘And when?’

‘On the tenth of April, in 1920.’

‘I see, and you’re claiming to have known this Heinrich Schmidt for at least ten years, and to have been aware of his political views? You would have been around eleven at the time, Herr Hergesell! You mustn’t play me for a fool, because then I get angry, and if I get angry, chances are you’ll feel a sudden pain somewhere!’

‘I wasn’t playing you for a fool! Everything I said is true!’

‘Name Heinrich Schmidt: lie number one! Never seen inside the suitcase: lie number two! Reason for giving it up: lie number three! No, my dear Herr Hergesell, every sentence you’ve spoken to me is a lie!’

‘No, everything is true. Heinrich Schmidt was on his way to Königsberg, and because the suitcase was too heavy and he didn’t need it where he was going, he asked me to hand it in for him. That’s the whole story!’

‘And he puts himself to the trouble of travelling out to Erkner to pick up the receipt, when he could carry it around quite comfortably in his pocket! Very likely, Herr Hergesell! Well, let’s leave it there for the moment. We’ll have occasion to return to it, I think, and you’ll be kind enough to accompany me back to Gestapo headquarters. As far as your wife is concerned…’

‘My wife doesn’t know anything about this suitcase business!’

‘Funny, that’s what she says, too. But I’ll get a chance to hear what she knows and doesn’t know. But while I have you two lovebirds together – you’ve known each other from the time you worked in the uniform factory?’

‘Yes…’ they said.

‘Well, and what was that like, what did you do there?’

‘I was an electrician…’

‘I cut uniform tunics…’

‘What good, hardworking people you are, to be sure. But when you weren’t snipping material and pulling wires – what were you up to then, my pretty ones? Could it be that you formed a nice little Communist cell, the two of you, plus a certain Jensch, known as Babyface, and one Grigoleit?’

They looked at him and the blood drained out of their faces. How could he know? They exchanged bewildered looks.

‘Yaha!’ jeered Laub. ‘That’s got you rattled, sure enough. You were under observation, all four of you, and if you hadn’t broken up as soon as you did, I might have made your acquaintance before now. You’re still under surveillance in your factory, Hergesell!’

They were so bewildered, it didn’t even occur to them to contradict the man.

The inspector looked at them thoughtfully, and suddenly he put a question. ‘So which of them did the suitcase belong to, Herr Hergesell?’ he asked. ‘Was it Grigoleit or Babyface?’

‘To, uh – it hardly matters given you know everything – it was Grigoleit who gave it to me. He was going to pick it up in another week, but that’s some time ago now…’

‘He will have gone AWOL, your Grigoleit! Well, I’ll catch up with him – if he’s still alive, that is.’

‘Inspector, since my wife and I left the cell, we have not been involved in any political activity. We even caused the cell to wind up before it could do anything. We realized that we weren’t cut out for that sort of thing.’

‘Hey, I realized that, too! Me!’ jeered the inspector.

But Karl Hergesell went on: ‘From that time, we’ve only thought about our jobs, and we haven’t undertaken anything against the state.’

‘Except to look after the suitcase; don’t forget about the suitcase, Hergesell! Keeping Communist pamphlets, that’s high treason, that’ll cost you your neck, my dear fellow! Hey, Frau Hergesell! Frau Hergesell! What are you getting so hot about! Fabian, will you detach the young lady from her husband, but be sure to be very gentle, Fabian, for Lord’s sake don’t hurt the little poppet. She’s recently had a miscarriage, the poor thing, she was so anxious not to give the Führer any more soldiers!’

‘Trudel!’ begged Hergesell. ‘Don’t listen to him! There might not be leaflets in the suitcase at all, I just sometimes thought that’s what it might be. There might be just sheets and clothes in it. Grigoleit wasn’t necessarily lying.’

‘That’s the way, young sir,’ praised Inspector Laub. ‘Give the young lady a bit of courage! Is that better, sweetheart? Can we carry on with our conversation? Well, let’s change the subject from Karl Hergesell’s treason to that of Trudel Hergesell, née Baumann…’

‘My wife knew nothing about these matters! My wife has never done anything against the law!’

‘No, no, quite, you were both good National Socialists, right?’ Suddenly Inspector Laub was seized with fury. ‘You know what you are? You’re cowardly Commie swine! You’re rats! But I’ll expose you, I’ll drag you both to the gallows! I want to see you both swing! You with your suitcase full of lies! And you with your so-called miscarriage! You jumped off the table till the bell rang! Isn’t that right? Isn’t that right? Tell me!’

He had seized the half-conscious Trudel and was shaking her.

‘Leave my wife alone! Take your hands off my wife!’ Hergesell grabbed hold of the inspector. He was struck on the jaw by Fabian. Three minutes later, handcuffed and guarded by Fabian, he was sitting in the kitchen and knew – wild despair in his heart – that Trudel was in the hands of her tormentor and there was nothing he could do.

And Laub continued to torment Trudel. Already half demented with worry for her Karli, she was now ordered to talk about Quangel’s postcards. Laub didn’t believe in the chance encounter on the street: no, she had remained in contact with the Quangels, cowardly Communist conspirators that they all were, and her husband, her Karli, had been in on it too!

‘How many postcards did you drop then? What was written on them? What did your husband have to say about it?’

And so he went on tormenting her, hour after hour, and all the while Hergesell sat in the kitchen, with hell in his heart.

And finally: the return of the police car, the suitcase, the opening of the suitcase.

‘Will you tickle the lock open for me, Fabian!’ the inspector said. Karl Hergesell was back in the parlour, under guard. At opposite ends of the room, the Hergesells looked at one another, pale and anguished.

‘A bit heavy for sheets and a change of clothing!’ the inspector sneered, while Fabian jiggled a wire in the lock. ‘Well, we’re about to see the treasure! I’m afraid it might not turn out too well for you, eh – what do you think, Hergesell?’

‘Inspector, my wife didn’t know anything about the suitcase!’ Hergesell proclaimed once more.

‘Yes, and I suppose you didn’t know anything about her dropping treasonable postcards in various staircases about town for Quangel! Each little traitor on his own! Call that a marriage!’

‘No!’ yelled Hergesell. ‘You didn’t do that, Trudel! Tell me you didn’t!’

‘I’m afraid she’s already confessed to it!’

‘Just once, Karli, and it was pure chance…’

‘I’m not having you talking to each other! One more word, Hergesell, and you’re going back in the kitchen! All right, at last – now, what’s inside?’

He and Fabian stood in front of the suitcase so that the Hergesells were unable to see inside. The two detectives exchanged whispers. Then Fabian pulled out the heavy contents. A small machine, shiny screws, springs, gleaming blackness…

‘Well, if it’s not a printing press!’ said Inspector Laub. ‘A pretty little printing press – for Communist pamphlets. Well, that takes care of you, Hergesell. Once and for all!’

‘I had no idea what was in the suitcase,’ Karl Hergesell said, but it sounded utterly feeble.

‘As if that mattered! You were obliged to report your meeting with Grigoleit, and to hand over the suitcase! That’s enough, Fabian. Pack up. I know more than I need to know. I want the woman cuffed as well.’

‘Farewell, Karli!’ cried Trudel Hergesell with a strong voice. ‘Farewell, my darling. You made me terribly happy…’

‘Will you shut that bitch up!’ yelled the inspector. ‘What do you think you’re playing at, Hergesell?’

Hergesell had broken away from his guard when, on the other side of the room, a punch on the mouth silenced Trudel. Even though he was handcuffed, he managed to knock over Trudel’s abuser. They rolled about on the floor.

The inspector gestured to Fabian. He stood over the pair on the floor, watched for his moment, and then struck Karl Hergesell three or four times on the head.

Hergesell gave a groan, his limbs twitched, and then he lay still at Trudel’s feet. She looked impassively down at him, her mouth bleeding.

During the long drive back to the city, she hoped in vain that he would come round so that she could look into his eyes again. But no, nothing.

They had done nothing. But they were doomed…