Enemies, page 14
“And your father’s brother was previously in such a camp?” Kappe went on.
“You have quite a lot of information about me,” Herbie answered. “More than I expected.”
Kappe looked up from his papers. “You’ve had a hard time finding work in Stettin. Isn’t that right?”
Herbie examined his hands, folded in his lap. The pride he’d felt in telling his story was replaced with a dark cloud of anxiety. What was this all about?
“I understand that the Gestapo and the local police have made your life somewhat difficult.”
“I don’t know what this has to do with your article…” Herbie wondered if this lieutenant might be a Gestapo agent himself. Perhaps this was just some cruel ploy to glean more information from him. But why have him come all the way to Berlin for that? It made little sense.
“You’d like to see your uncle released from the camp, wouldn’t you, Herbie?”
“Of course.” Herbie recognized the underlying threat. “But I’m in no position to help him.”
“Life certainly seems to be difficult for you here in Germany. I’ll bet that if you could, you’d like to return to the United States. Isn’t that right? It seems to be the only thing left for you.”
Herbie was afraid to answer, but in the end he couldn’t resist. The lure was too strong. “Sure, I’d like to go home. If there was a way.”
A smile returned to Kappe’s face; the fisherman reeling in a prize catch. “I might be able to help you in this regard. Of course, there would be certain duties required of you.”
“What sorts of duties?” Herbie’s skepticism ran deep.
“We can discuss that in due time…”
“There is no magazine article, then?”
“I apologize for that little ruse. This magazine of ours, well, it serves a purpose.”
Herbie took it all in. The prospect of returning to Chicago was nearly overwhelming. To see his mother and father, to sleep in his own bed… To get his job back and return to his old life… And, yes, to see Gerda and meet his newborn child. Herbie would hear the lieutenant out. Besides, there was his uncle to think of. That message was clear. “What’s the next step?”
“I like your enthusiasm!” Kappe beamed. “If all goes well, we will arrange for your transportation back to the United States. Does this sound like something you’d like to consider?”
Herbie nodded.
“Wonderful!” Kappe slid a single sheet of paper and a pen across the desk. “Before I can discuss our project in any greater detail, I ask that you please sign this document.”
Herbie scanned the paper. All information regarding this project is top secret, not to be revealed to any unauthorized persons on pain of death… It sounded dramatic, but he lifted the pen and signed his name across the bottom of the page before adding the date.
Kappe lifted the page and examined the signature. “Welcome to Operation Pastorius. You understand, you must not discuss our meetings with anyone. This is strictly top secret.”
“I have a friend,” Herbie spat out. “Wolf Wergin. He’s the one who came with me from Chicago. He might be interested, too.”
Kappe nodded. “I will take it under consideration.”
“Wolf is very reliable. And smart! Perhaps you could meet with him?”
Kappe folded his arms. “I will meet him. My receptionist can arrange for train fare. You will be reimbursed for your travel expenses as well.”
“Thank you, sir!”
“Regarding Wolf, I can’t make any promises.”
“He’s a stand-up guy. You’ll see.”
“I am sure that he is.”
“What sorts of tasks would we be responsible for, if we agreed to take part?”
“Enough to keep our enemies guessing. We want to sow some discontent, to diminish the American people’s support for this terrible war.”
To Herbie, that one word still struck a nerve. Enemies. There is was again, but this time in reference not to the Brits, but to the only country he’d ever called home. Even so, Herbie was overtaken by the first hint of optimism he’d felt in months. Chicago. Just the thought of it made him deeply, inconsolably homesick. With a bit of luck, he and Wolf might be back there very, very soon.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Koenigsberg, March 24, 1942
It was late afternoon as Wolfgang loaded four heavy steamer trunks onto a wobbly luggage cart and then pushed it slowly up the railway platform. Though the days were growing longer, the seasons seemed locked in perpetual battle, sunny and warm on one day yet spitting down the last winter snowflakes the next. On this particular evening, a cool wind blew scraps of discarded newspapers along the tracks below him. High above, patches of deep blue appeared and then vanished amid dancing gray clouds. Wolf shivered before putting his back into it, easing his load into the dimly lit baggage office where his boss sat at a desk behind a worn wooden counter. The wiry old man had spent a lifetime in this station, overseeing luggage stored on rows of shelves that stretched out behind him. Though Wolf’s language skills were improving day by day, the older man communicated with Wolf in short bursts of German mixed with hand signals. “Das ist alles?” he said.
“Ja.”
Across the counter, a valet approached with a tag in one hand. “Lichtman?”
“Ja,” said Wolf. “Litchtman.”
The valet placed his tag on the desk. Wolf pushed the cart back out of the office, following the valet to the street before helping load the trunks into the back of an enormous convertible black Mercedes. Wolfgang had never before seen a car like this one, long and square, with flowing fenders along each side of a gigantic engine compartment. At the front were mounted two small flags, one on each side. Red, with a white circle and the ubiquitous Nazi swastika in the center. When the trunks were safely stored, Wolf stood beside his empty cart and admired the vehicle.
“Danke.” The valet climbed into the passenger seat. A driver with black leather gloves and a tan scarf fired up the rumbling engine.
Wolfgang watched wistfully as they headed off down the road. “You’re welcome,” he responded to nobody in particular before guiding the cart inside. Even with the wartime labor shortage, his job prospects had been extremely limited. It was only upon approval of the Gestapo that he managed to secure this position. Wolf didn’t mind it. He didn’t have to speak to anyone, much. More than anything, he was just relieved to have somewhere to go each day, and a small paycheck at the end of the week.
When he clocked out a few minutes later, Wolf left the station and began the long walk home, back to another dinner staring across the table at his grandmother. At least he could contribute now, instead of merely being a drag on her. Finances were tight, that much he understood. Milk, eggs, meat, and other staples were expensive, and sometimes difficult to come by.
Strolling up the sidewalk in the fading evening light, he spotted hardy green buds on some of the tree limbs. Spring was coming, and none too soon. Nature didn’t care about the war. Seasons changed and the world went on, despite whatever else was happening. One day it would all be over and Wolf would go home. Until then, he would master the language and get by the best he could. He already had a schoolbook to practice with, handed down from a niece who lived on a farm outside the city. The book was meant to teach English to German students, but that didn’t stop Wolf from pouring over the conjugation tables in the back, memorizing as many verbs as he could each day, along with tenses, prefixes, suffixes… Early on, he began to separate in his mind where one word ended and another began. Later, he was recognizing individual words, and beginning to pick up on pieces of conversation. Lately, he was able to converse in basic German himself. Wolf looked forward to surprising his parents when he got back to Chicago. For the foreseeable future, however, Koenigsberg was his home.
Letting himself in his grandmother’s front door, Wolf retreated to his room where he collapsed on his bed. His body ached from a long day on his feet. This was his mother’s room once, long ago. Wolf wondered what her life had been like then. He peered at a framed photo perched on the desk. A teenage version of his mother gazed back, frozen in time. She and two girlfriends wore traditional dresses, along with bright smiles on their faces. His mother seemed on the verge of laughter. What was being said, at that moment, to bring her such joy? Whatever the words, they were now lost to the ages. A loud knock jolted Wolf back into the present. His grandmother stood at the threshold holding an envelope in one hand. “Für sie,” she said. This was a surprise. He could tell right away that it wasn’t the typical Gestapo postcard.
Wolf rose to meet his grandmother in the doorway. She was a slight woman, yet sinewy and strong. Upon his arrival, she’d met Wolf with a suspicion that never quite went away. She seemed unable to figure out what to make of him, this young American suddenly living under her roof. For Wolf’s part, he found his grandmother to be equally puzzling. She led a lonely life, with her only daughter five thousand miles away in America, and her son and his family living outside the city and visiting only on occasion. All the same, Wolf could tell it was an adjustment for his grandma to have someone else living in the house after so many years alone. Surely she missed her husband, Wolf’s deceased grandfather, though Wolf was clearly no replacement. In the early days, he could hardly speak to her. After three months, they were now able to converse, though his grandmother was not the talkative type. Mostly, Wolfgang was left feeling that his presence was an imposition. Both of them were keenly aware that they had no other choice in the matter. “Danke.” He took the envelope and examined the return address as his grandmother retreated. The letter was from Herbie. Wolf wasted no time in tearing it open and pulling out the hand-written pages. Any news from his only friend in Germany was more than welcomed. He read quickly through the text.
Greetings Wolf! I hope you’re surviving there in Koenigsberg. Have you found some work? Is the Gestapo on your case? I better be careful, they’ll probably read this. That’s OK, though, I think I found a way for us to get back home. If you come to Stettin, I will tell you all about it. Come see me as soon as you can. Don’t worry about the fare. If you can borrow the money, I will pay you back when you get here. The enclosed document is from the department of military intelligence. If anyone asks for your travel papers, just show this to them and it will be all right.
Your friend,
Herbie
A second page was printed on official government stationery. Wolfgang couldn’t make out quite what it said, but he saw that it was signed by a man named Lieutenant Walter Kappe. Who was Walter Kappe? All of this intrigue filled Wolfgang with a deep curiosity, mixed equally with apprehension. Whatever this was about, though, any chance to see Herbie was one that Wolf couldn’t pass up. Of course he would go, as soon as he was able.
Chapter Thirty
Berlin, April 2, 1942
“I don’t get it. Is this a magazine or isn’t it?” Wolf asked Herbie as they walked along a residential sidewalk in the heart of the city. Five-story apartment blocks lined each side of the narrow street.
“It is. Sort of.”
“What do you mean, sort of?”
“I mean, yeah, it’s a magazine, but they do more than that, too.”
“Why all the hush-hush? This whole thing seems awfully shady if you ask me. How come you can’t just tell me what the hell it’s all about? What does this have to do with Chicago?”
“The lieutenant will explain it. I can’t say any more than that. I signed a vow.”
“What kind of vow?” Wolf’s tone betrayed his disbelief.
“You’ll see.”
The pair crossed an intersection and continued up the block. “How did this guy find out about us, anyway?”
“Hans Sass.”
“What about Hans Sass?”
“I don’t know. The lieutenant met him somewhere. Look, you’re just gonna have to trust me. You’ll find out all about it from the lieutenant.”
Ever since Wolf arrived in Stettin the day before, this was about all he’d been able to pry out of Herbie. He knew that this lieutenant contacted his friend three weeks beforehand, requesting an interview for some army publication. Der Kaukasus it was called. Herbie wanted to tell Wolf more about it, but he simply couldn’t. Only Kappe could do that. Hence the quick trip back to Berlin. Very soon, the mystery would be revealed.
“This is the one.” Herbie stepped up to the front of an unassuming apartment building and pressed the last button on a column of doorbells.
“Der Kaukasus!” came a young woman’s voice.
“This is Herbert Haupt. I am here to see Lieutenant Kappe.”
With a buzzing sound, the lock clicked open and the boys moved inside. “This is a magazine office?” Wolfgang mused as they began to climb the stairs, the smell of grilled sausages wafting through the halls.
It was only forty minutes later that the pair made their way back down the stairs and exited to the street. For Wolf, any semblance of hope was extinguished. Instead, he felt deflated, as though the untenable nature of their circumstances were just shoved in his face. The whole setup was preposterous, starting with this rosy-cheeked lieutenant’s affable demeanor. His smile hid an insincerity that put Wolf on his guard from the very start. Wolfgang didn’t trust this man. Blow up factories? In his own country? The FBI would be all over them. Wolf had seen the movies. He knew what those G-men were capable of. Hell, they’d gunned down Dillinger right there in Chicago! No, this wasn’t for Wolf. He wanted no part of it. From the tension in the room, it was clear that this lieutenant wasn’t keen on him either. When Kappe blithely mentioned the draft, Wolf felt particularly uneasy. Was that a threat? “Have you received any notification from the Army?” the lieutenant had asked. No, Wolf replied. He had not. Why would he? Wolf was an American citizen. What business would the German Army want with an American in their ranks? Kappe didn’t answer this question, instead merely offering a sly smile.
“What did you think?” said Herbie as they moved up the sidewalk.
Wolfgang didn’t know what to say. Frankly, Herbie’s enthusiasm shocked him. How best to convey this sentiment without insulting his friend? “I don’t think the lieutenant liked me very much,” he said.
“What do you mean? He liked you just fine!”
“I’m not so sure. Besides, I don’t know if this idea is for me.”
“But come on! It’s a surefire way to get back home! Don’t you want to go home? You can’t want to stay here?!”
“Of course I want to go home. Just not like this.”
As the pair continued up the street, Herbie was clearly disappointed. “Come on, we’ll catch the train back to Stettin. You can stay with us tonight.”
“Thanks.”
“I thought you’d be more excited about this whole idea.”
“I don’t know… It all sounds a little crazy if you ask me.”
Wrinkles formed on Herbie’s forehead. “Who knows when another opportunity like this might come along? I’ll tell you what, I just don’t want to wait. I’ve had as much of this place as I can take.”
“I can’t argue with you there.” When they got to the underground station, the boys headed down the stairs.
“Maybe we can look around Berlin a little. Before we catch the train.” Wolf didn’t want to talk about this stuff anymore. The whole idea disturbed him.
“Yeah, sure. We can look around.” The boys each slid a token into a turnstile and then pushed their way through. “What should we see first?”
“How about the Brandenburg Gate? And maybe the Tiergarten, too.”
They stopped to consult a transit map mounted on a wall. For the rest of the afternoon, all Wolf wanted was to have some fun with his old friend. He’d put the rest of this dismal business as far out of his mind as he could.
It was late at night as the two friends sat up in the kitchen back in Stettin, sharing a bottle of wine with bread and cheese. Once again, they talked about the plan, with Herbie describing how he would put one over on them all. “First, three weeks in this training program, and then it’s right back to the United States. Home sweet home! I’ll tell you, Wolf, I can’t wait to get back. I’ve had enough of it over here. I just wish you’d come with me.”
“But Herbie, you’re not going to make it!” Wolfgang protested. “You go back like that and the G-men are going to get you and put your ass in jail!”
“No, no, no…” Herbie shook his head with a laugh. “I’m just going to disappear. You’ll see. Nobody has to know how I got there.” After refilling his glass, Herbie swallowed a gulp of wine. His eyes took on a distant cast, as though he’d drifted off to somewhere else entirely. Wolfgang watched in puzzlement as his friend processed the entirety of his predicament. All Herbie wanted, desperately and without condition, was to return to his family, his friends, and the mother of his child. The emotions swelled inside Herbie’s chest, overwhelming him. Without warning, he placed his glass on the table and burst into tears, sobbing uncontrollably as Wolfgang shrank backwards in shame. This was Herbie, the friend Wolf looked up to; older and mature. Here in this small kitchen, their roles reversed in an instant. Herbie leaned his head into his hands, tears streaming through his fingers, misery flowing from him in cascading waves. Slowly the sobs subsided with a last few spasms of grief, yet Herbie was still unable to raise his head. At this dark moment, neither friend could face the other.
“It’s late,” Wolf offered. “Maybe we should go to bed.”
Eyes damp and bloodshot, cheeks flushing red, Herbie sat upright and corked the wine bottle without a word. Wolfgang wrapped the bread and cheese in paper before moving into the living room where a pair of blankets and an extra pillow were laid out on the couch. “Goodnight, Herbie.” Wolf watched as his friend headed up the stairs, head hung low in defeat. When he was gone, Wolf dropped his pants and switched off the light before climbing under the blankets. Here in the dark, on this couch in Stettin, the future was entirely blank. They both knew the risks. Each was given a choice. In the morning, Wolfgang would catch a train back to Koenigsberg and their paths would diverge, perhaps for good this time. The lieutenant’s mention of the draft still haunted Wolf. In fact, he couldn’t banish this deeply disturbing prospect from his mind. With a little bit of luck, perhaps he could wait out the war as a baggage handler. Wolf would take his chances. He and Herbie had each made their decision. The outcome from this point on was not up to them. Their futures were held firmly in the hands of fate.
