What if they were flatmates? Katya was single. It was not likely that she lived alone. That possibility turned him cold. Gloomily, he watched as the three of them descended the steps and crossed the small plaza in front of the building. But then, to his relief, one of them waved and turned off to the right. Katya and the other one moved to the curb and stopped. He had another anxious moment as he wondered if they were going to hail a taxi, but then as traffic cleared, they ran lightly across the street, angling away from him in the opposite direction. When they reached the sidewalk, they linked arms and moved away, talking animatedly to each other. He let them get about fifty yards ahead of him, then rose and fell in behind them.
Hans glumly followed. It hadn’t occurred to him that her flatmate might also be a coworker at the Ministry.
But that problem solved itself about five minutes later, when her friend let go of her arm, called out something, and then waved as she turned off onto a side street. Hans looked around, making sure there was no one else from the Ministry nearby, and increased his pace. By now the sidewalks were emptying and there were few people about. When she heard footsteps behind her, she glanced over her shoulder. He didn’t turn away. While there were gas lamps along both sides of Leipziger Strasse, they weren’t bright enough for her to recognize him this far away.
But when she looked back again a moment later, she increased her pace. Hans was definitely spotted and making her nervous. He remembered the old soldier’s warning about being out at night in Berlin. If he knew that, then Katya did too, and he didn’t want to spook her.
He cupped a hand. “Katya! Katya Freylitsch.”
She slowed and turned. He waved to her. “It’s Hans Eckhardt.”
“I’m sorry.” She started to walk again. “I don’t believe I know you.”
“Sergeant Eckhardt. From this morning. Number twenty-one.”
This finally registered and she stopped completely. He hurried and caught up to her. “Sergeant Eckhardt? What are you doing here?”
“I was just passing the Ministry and—” He stopped, realizing that this only alarmed her all the more.
“That’s not true. Actually, I’ve been waiting for you to get off work. I was hoping I could speak with you for a moment or two.”
Her smile was genuine, but fleeting. Her first impulse was to be flattered, which is what he had hoped for, but almost instantly her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What about?”
He looked around. “I have a proposition for you. Is there anywhere near here where we might have a cup of—”
In the light of the lamp, he saw her stiffen. Her cheeks went tight; her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Sergeant Eckhardt!” she exclaimed, “I am not that kind of a girl.”
He gaped at her for a moment, stunned by the intensity of her reaction. When it hit him, he felt his face go red. He started fumbling all over himself. “Oh, no, Fräulein. I didn’t mean that. I meant a business proposition. Oh, dear. I am so sorry for putting it that way.”
His obvious embarrassment helped. She visibly relaxed. He went on, more slowly now, choosing his words carefully. “I have a situation. An emergency situation, actually. I was hoping you could help me. I . . . I don’t have much money,” he went on. He reached inside his overcoat and withdrew the ration book, then held it out to her. “But this is yours if you will help me.”
She stared at it for a moment and then recognized it for what it was.
“It’s yours. All of it. I’ve only used a couple of coupons out of it.” He handed it to her. “Look at it. You’ll see that I haven’t signed it yet. So you can put your name on it.”
She opened it, studied it for a moment, and handed it back to him. “And what is this emergency?”
He felt a rush of relief. She was at least going to listen him. That was huge, and he knew it. He looked around. “Is there a café or anywhere near here where we could get out of the cold, maybe have a cup of coffee?” Another idea came. “In fact, I’ll buy you dinner if you’ll just listen to my proposals. Do you know of a place that’s open?”
“I’m not sure. . . .” But she didn’t finish her sentence. Hans took that as a good sign.
“Come on. It’s cold and I’m hungry. And you have to have dinner sometime tonight, right? And we’ll be somewhere with lots of light and lots of people so you know you’re safe.”
Finally there came a genuine smile. “It is cold and I am hungry. All right. There’s a little bistro about a block ahead. They’ll probably only have breads and cheeses. And wine. But that actually sounds pretty good to me right now.”
“That sounds wonderful to me, too. Thank you so much for at least listening to me.”
December 3, 1918, 6:53 p.m.—Leipziger Strasse Bistro, Tiergarten District, Berlin
He watched her as she finished the last of her strudel, getting the last few crumbs by mashing them onto her fork. Finally, she sat back. “Danke schön, Sergeant Eckhardt.”
“Please. Call me Hans.”
She nodded. “And you may call me Katya. Or Katie, if you wish. That’s what my family calls me.”
“I like Katya,” he said, sensing that Katie might seem a little too familiar to her, in spite of her inviting it.
“So anyway, that’s my story. I was released from the hospital in Pasewalk on Monday. I went right to the Ministry from the train station and learned that you had to have a number to even wait in line. By that point, it was too late to get one, so I came early this morning.”
“And got number twenty-one.”
“Yes. And then, stupid me, I made the mistake of angering Frau Gar—” He caught himself just in time. “Uh . . . Frau . . . ?”
“Hessler.”
“Oh, yes, Frau Hessler. Anyway, because I was kept sedated for so long, I never wrote to my parents. When I finally came out of it, they told me I might be blind. I know I should have written my parents then, but I wanted to be sure I wasn’t.”
She was looking closely at him. Then she reached up and touched her temple just above her right eye, exactly in the place where his scar was. “You are very lucky,” she whispered. “It is so close.”
“I know.”
“Is that when you won the Iron Cross?”
He reared back.
“I . . . I read it in your file.”
“No, this was from an artillery shell. One of our own, as it turned out. The Iron Cross was for—wait! You read my file?”
“Yes.”
“So it was there this morning?”
“Yes.” Then she gave him a puzzled look. “What did you say to Frau Hessler? When she came into the file room, she was boiling mad. I had just found your file, but she made me give it to her and told me she would take over.” She reached out and laid a hand on his for a brief moment.
It startled him a little, but it pleased him, too. She was no longer afraid of him.
“I’m so sorry for what she did,” she was saying. “But she’s that way. She’s been a widow for many years, and she’s pretty set in her ways.”
“I’ll say.” He smiled. “She made me feel like I was under enemy fire there for a minute or two.”
Katya laughed. “Oh, she’s not that bad. Just kind of grumpy sometimes.”
Kind of? But he let it pass. He took a quick breath. “Katya?”
“Yes.”
“That’s what I want to talk to you about.”
Her eyes lowered, showing dark lashes. “I’m sorry, Serg—uh . . . Hans. But she was right about that. We can’t do anything to speed up the refund process. Until we get the discharge papers, we can’t order your check.”
“I understand, but that’s not what I need.”
“Oh? Then what?”
“You heard her. She’s not going to give me my file until Friday morning. I was hoping to leave by train tomorrow morning and go home and see my family. You know, surprise my parents by coming in person rather than writing a letter. But knowing her, I could be there all day before I get that file.”
Her eyes were growing larger as she realized where this was going.
“I have to start looking for work Monday. It’s a ten-hour train ride to Bavaria each way. If I have to wait until Saturday to leave, there’s no sense in even going. I’d only have a couple of hours with my family.”
Picking up her fork, Katya started poking at her empty plate. “What are you saying?” she asked without looking up.
“Let me ask you a question first. Once you get our files from the file room, how long does it take you to finish the processing?”
“Not long. We check the file information against your application. If it matches, then we stamp it approved and forward it on to disbursement.”
“Do I need to sign anything else?”
“No. You’ve already signed the application.”
He felt his heart soar. This was what he thought he had observed from watching the process earlier in the day. “So, since you do have my personnel file there, all you have to do is check it against—” He reached inside his coat and withdrew his application. “—against this. Right?”
“Yes. But Frau Hessler kept your file, remember? She put it in her drawer.”
“I saw that. Are those drawers locked?”
She stared at him for a long moment and then looked down at this application before finally shaking her head. She started to say something more, but Hans held up a finger. He took out his ration book and slid it across the table. Katya barely glanced at it.
“I can’t do anything illegal. I could go to jail.”
“I would never ask that of you, Katya. What I’m asking is not illegal. I’m not asking you to change the process in any way.”
“Then what are you asking?” As she asked it, she looked at the ration book with obvious longing. But she didn’t take it. Not yet. Hans took a quick breath and plunged.
“Here’s what I’ve been thinking. You take my application with you now. Then, what if you go to work early tomorrow? Before Frau Hessler gets there. You find my file, do whatever it is that you usually do, then stamp it approved.”
Katya was shaking her head before he finished. “No.”
He stared at her for a moment, his stomach dropping. Finally, he looked up and forced a smile. “I understand.”
“No, you don’t. It won’t work that way.”
“Why not?”
“Because we put the applications into the personnel file and then deposit the file in a box marked for delivery to disbursement. When Frau Hessler arrives, she’ll immediately find that your file is not in her drawer. She’ll start looking for it, and even if I put it at the bottom of the box, she’ll find it. Then we’ll both be in big trouble.”
The disappointment was like a stab in the chest. “I understand, Katya. And I don’t want you to get in trouble. I really mean that.”
She picked up his application, but instead of handing it back to him, she carefully folded it and put it into her purse. “I’ll do it,” she said softly.
“But—”
“Not because of the ration book.” She pushed it back across the table. “You keep it. You need it.”
“Then why?”
“Because of the Iron Cross. I’ve heard about the Iron Cross my whole life, but I’ve never actually met someone who won it.” A shy smile stole across her face. “So, I have a better idea. If you promise to walk me back to the Ministry and wait for me, I’ll go in and do it now. They don’t pick up the disbursement box until around nine.”
His mouth fell open a little. “You can get in there now?”
“Of course. I sometimes work late. The guards all know me.”
“You have my word. I’ll walk back with you. I’ll wait outside for you. And I’m going to walk you home, too. I understand the streets can be dangerous at night.”
“They are. Thank you. I was hoping you would volunteer.”
She stood up. He stood up to face her. “But how will you do it?”
“When she comes in tomorrow, I’ll tell her I worked late and got it done. Fortunately, she left before I did tonight, so she won’t know the difference. Your file will be gone by morning. She might be irritated, but it’ll be all right. She just can’t know that you had any part in this.”
“I don’t know what to say, Katya.”
“Then don’t say anything,” she laughed. “We’ll have plenty of time to talk on the way home. It’s a long way.”
9:12 p.m.—Tiergarten District, Berlin
It was a long way, and they were both shivering by the time they reached the small apartment building. The light on the second floor was on. “My flatmate is home,” Katya said. “Good.” She turned to face Hans. Her eyes were wide and luminous as she looked up at him. “I wish I could be there when your mother first sees you. That will be a wonderful moment.”
“Well, you’ve made it more wonderful. Now that I don’t have to come back to the Ministry on Friday, I can spend more time with them. Maybe even the whole two weeks that I’m waiting for my disbursement.” He made a face. “The hospital gave me a little money, but I can’t afford to stay in a hotel all that time. So this is a perfect solution.” Except for the fact that I’m not going to Graswang. But Hans pushed that thought aside. He was feeling guilty about lying to her after what she had done for him, but it wasn’t a lie that would hurt her in any way.
He stepped close to her, bent down, and kissed her on one cheek. “I’ll be back in a couple of weeks. Perhaps we can have dinner again then.”
“I would like that very much,” she murmured. Then she stepped back, her face lighting up.
“Oh, by the way. I took a moment and calculated your severance pay. Would you like to know what it will be?”
“Would you like a punch in the nose?” he cried. “Why didn’t you tell me that before?”
“I forgot.”
“So how much will it be?”
She was suddenly playing with him. “You have to kiss me again to find that out.” Chuckling, Hans bent down to kiss her on the other cheek, but as he went to do so, she suddenly turned her head to face him. One hand came up and held his face as she kissed him softly on the lips. When she pulled away, she was smiling. “Three thousand marks,” she said. Then she turned and ran lightly up the steps. “Gute Nacht!” she called back over her shoulder.
Hans waved, still a little taken aback. When Katya opened the door and went inside, he turned and started back the way he had come, marveling at how well things had turned out.
Katya stepped into her apartment to find her flatmate standing at the window looking out at the street, her winter coat still wrapped tightly around her. Katya walked over and stood beside her, trying to ignore how cold it was in the flat tonight. Their landlady must not have received her delivery of coal.
“Who was that?”
“A soldier from the office. I worked late helping him get his application processed, so he offered to walk me home.”
“Some walk,” she said, giving Katya one of those looks.
Katya laughed. “I thought so, too.”
Then as she stepped back, she felt something inside her coat pocket. She reached in and pulled it out.
Her friend was watching her closely. “What’s that?”
Katya stared at the ration book for a moment and then put it away again. She stepped to the window and pulled the curtain back, but there was no sign of Hans in the darkness. She let the curtain drop again. “It’s a thank-you note,” she said, without turning around.
December 4, 1918, 7:12 a.m.—East Railway Station, Friedrichshain-Kreuzberg District, Berlin
Hans was still in a good mood the next morning as he approached the train station. And why not? His plan had worked out perfectly. Even better than he had hoped, thanks to Katya. And it had been fun, too. If for some reason this whole thing with Emilee fell apart, maybe he would see where things might go with her. To his surprise, he felt a little stab of guilt at that thought, but he brushed it aside and strode into the train station, unwill
ing to let anything spoil his mood.
The train station was busy but not overly crowded, so he walked to the ticket window with the shortest line and let his thoughts turn to Emilee. As Hans worked out in his mind how to approach her, it suddenly occurred to him that it would probably be a good idea to let her know he was coming—let her start thinking about how to heal things between them too. Besides, with train travel being what it was right now, it wasn’t a bad idea to make sure she was going to be there. He turned away and went looking for the telephone exchange.
When he reached the window, there was no one there. A woman in her early thirties smiled at him as he approached. “May I help you, sir?”
“Yes. I would like to make a phone call to Pasewalk. To the military hospital there.”
“And do you have the number?”
“No, but I’m sure they’ll know it at the exchange there. And I need to talk to the hospital administrator there.”
“Do you have his name?”
“Yes. Dr. Artur Schnebling. Tell him that it is Sergeant Hans Otto Eckhardt calling, please.”
She wrote it all down and then pointed to one of the booths. “Take number one there. I’ll let you know when it’s ready and how much it will be.”
7:15 a.m.
Dr. Schnebling’s voice was pleasant but wary. “This is a surprise, Sergeant. Is there a problem?”
“No, sir.” Hans told him quickly about his visit to the War Ministry. “They’re saying I should have my disbursement in two to three weeks.”
“Gut. I’m pleased to hear that. And how may I help you?”
“Uh . . . since I’ve got some time on my hands, I thought I might come up to Pasewalk and see Emil—Nurse Fromme.”
A pause, then slowly, “I see. And just what exactly is your relationship with Nurse Fromme?”
“Right now, it’s just nurse/patient,” Hans said. The question was not unexpected. “She was a great help to me. I had bad nightmares for several weeks after I got there. She would read to me in between her rounds.”