The Willow Wren Philipp Schott (best free e book reader TXT) 📖

he wanted to go on to Rochlitz, another ten kilometres south, where he had an aunt. Our two other camp comrades also dispersed to places they knew.

Mama must have been watching out the window, as she rushed out to greet me.

“Ludwig! You’re safe!” She hugged me and began to cry. I could see that she had been crying a lot.

“Yes, Mama. How are the others?”

“Safe, we are all safe, thank God. Except Theodor and your father. I don’t know anything about Theodor. Come in, come in. What is happening at camp?”

I explained, but I left out the part about the confrontation between Kohl and Tischendorf and the latter’s summary execution. I was having trouble processing that, and it would be years before I could speak of it.

“But what about here, Mama? Who is shelling the castle and why?”

“The Americans. Herr Rittmann says they are just a kilometre or two west now and the Russians are perhaps ten kilometres east. The Americans are apparently confused and think the castle is a military base. This is why the British prisoners put out that flag. They did that just an hour ago. Herr Rittmann says that the High Command wanted the prisoners to be moved south, deeper into the unoccupied territory so that they could be used as bargaining chips, but the head prisoner, Lieutenant Colonel Tod, refused. Kommandant Oberst Prawitt thought about it and then decided to agree with Tod, not with High Command! Hopefully the Americans figure out what is happening and stop the artillery. Hopefully this ends peacefully tonight or tomorrow.”

But I was overwhelmed and exhausted beyond the point of being able to entertain hope or any feeling or thought other than the intense desire to curl up under a blanket and draw comfort from the sounds of Mama going about her evening routine. Later, when the house was quiet, I lay for a long time with my eyes open, because every time I closed my eyes I saw Herr Tischendorf hanging from the oak tree by the gate of the camp, moonlit, all alone. Mercifully when sleep came it was deep and long and dreamless.

Chapter Twenty-Five

April 16, 1945

The Americans entered Colditz at 8:00 in the morning, crossing the bridge, having come down the 176 from Bad Lausick and encountering no resistance to that point. On the bridge, however, they came under fire from an SS squad on the riverbank just north of the castle. We could hear the shooting. It was very intense, but it did not last long. Even after the shooting stopped Mama insisted that we stay indoors. That was fine with me. I was far more afraid than I was curious. I knew that occupation by the Americans (Gangsters) was preferable to occupation by the Russians (Hordes), but there were far too many unknowns to feel anything other than fear.

Mama was washing the little ones, perhaps trying to make them presentable for the occupiers. While she busied herself with that, I went into the bedroom to read my Karl May and take my mind off what had happened, was happening and was going to happen. Despite our squalor, Mama kept everything as neat as she could, so it surprised me to see a piece of paper lying loosely on the bed. Normally all letters and papers were carefully filed in the little antique desk in the corner. I looked at the paper. It was handwritten. Probably a letter. I knew it was almost certainly not meant for my eyes, but Theodor had said that I was “the man” now and I felt it was important to know everything I could about what was going on. I picked it up and sat with my back to the door in case Mama suddenly came in.

It was a short letter from Papa.

Leipzig, April 14, 1945

Dear Luise,

I hope this letter reaches you. I have entrusted it to Konrad who will pass through Colditz on his way south for the final stand. Yes, I must write of the final stand. The Americans are very near now, and Leipzig will fall. The Reich will fall. As a decent German I simply cannot bear witness to the destruction of the Fatherland. I must end my life rather than see this happen. You will not hear from me again.

Heil Hitler,

Wilhelm

I stared at these words for a long minute, willing them to say something else. What he had written was an impossible abstraction, as if he were reporting from the dark side of the moon. I could feel my mind preparing a secure box to put this information in and lock it away from immediate further conscious inspection. I carefully placed the letter in the exact same position on the bed where I had found it and then, feeling dazed but little else, I picked up my Karl May book and left the bedroom.

Part Three

Hell is empty and all the devils are here.

— William Shakespeare, The Tempest

Chapter Twenty-Six

April 17, 1945

Colditz had fallen or been liberated, depending on your perspective. Within hours there was nobody who spoke openly of the former. Within hours everyone hailed the liberators, or at least offered no sign of anything other than acceptance of their arrival. Nazi uniforms and regalia were quickly thrown out, hidden or burned. The Colditz Ortsgruppen leadership tried to look as casual as possible in civilian clothing. As the little battle at the bridge was going on, they had managed, somewhat frantically no doubt, to destroy the local records of their identities and actions, but the Gau, which was the next higher organizational level, had intact carbon copies, so this just slightly delayed their identification.

My first direct look at one of the Gangsters was when an officer and two GIs knocked on our door the morning after the fall/liberation. Mama answered the door while the rest of us clustered behind her, staring wide-eyed at the green-clad aliens. Other than the groups of Polish slave labourers in the