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

and then murder Allied personnel. By June the prohibition was lifted for children, but not until September for the general population.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

May 1, 1945

During the next week and a half, a new routine developed, focused on the wary observation of our occupiers and a daily obsession with finding food. Even though Mama and I didn’t speak of it, we knew that Papa was dead and could not help us, and we presumed Theodor was dead and could not help, and the Americans continued to keep their distance and would not help us. We were left entirely to fend for ourselves, but this quickly felt normal.

Then two things happened on the first of May that I will never forget. The first was the news that came over the radio. We did not have a radio in Colditz, but Herr Rittmann did and called us over to say that for the last several minutes there had been the repeated announcement: “The German wireless broadcasts serious, important news for the German people.” Herr Rittmann thought it might be the announcement of the formal end of the war. Mama was not interested, but Clara, Johann and I rushed over to listen. After a few dozen more repetitions of “The German wireless broadcasts serious, important news for the German people,” there were three loud drumrolls and then there was silence for a moment. Then the announcer again:

It is reported from Der Führer’s headquarters that our Führer Adolf Hitler, fighting to the last breath against Bolshevism, fell for Germany this afternoon in his operational headquarters in the Reich Chancellery.

On April 30 Der Führer appointed Grand Admiral Dönitz his successor. The grand admiral and successor of Der Führer now speaks to the German people.

Dönitz, who I had never heard of before, came on, his voice faint and scratchy:

German men and women, soldiers of the armed forces: our Führer, Adolf Hitler, has fallen. In the deepest sorrow and respect, the German people bow.

At an early date he had recognized the frightful danger of Bolshevism and dedicated his existence to this struggle. At the end of his struggle, of his unswerving straight road of life, stands his hero’s death in the capital of the German Reich. His life has been one single service for Germany. His activity in the fight against the Bolshevik storm flood concerned not only Europe but the entire civilized world.

Der Führer has appointed me to be his successor.

Fully conscious of the responsibility, I take over the leadership of the German people at this fateful hour.

Dönitz went on to outline that his main thrust would be to continue to fight to save the world from Bolshevism while trying to bring the Anglo-Americans onside in this struggle. It was a familiar refrain, and one that sounded laughable now.

“He should pull all the troops off the western front and try to shore up the eastern. As we can see, the Amis aren’t that bad. It would be nice if they gave us food, but it’s nothing like the stories coming from the east . . . Well, I shouldn’t tell you children,” Herr Rittman said.

He was prescient. First of all, Dönitz did encourage his troops to surrender to the Western Allies rather than the Russians, saving close to two million from a one-way trip to Siberia. And secondly, the Russians were coming to Colditz.

Later that morning there was only one farmer, a toothless elderly woman, at the market. I did not recognize her. She was sitting by herself under a large oak, with her meagre offerings spread out in front of her on a colourful baby blanket. Hilda was not there.

Greatly worried by the disappearance of the market, I overcame my reluctance to talk to the old woman and asked, “Where is Hilda? Where is everyone?”

“Have you not heard little one? Ivan is coming.”

“The Russians? Here?”

“Yes. The Amis and Ivan had agreed before that their armies would meet here, at the Mulde.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “But Ivan was slower than expected.” She turned her face aside and spat something out of her mouth before continuing. “The Amis are withdrawing to the west bank tomorrow morning and Ivan is moving in. Many people are leaving the east side today.”

It was true. I had seen an unusual number of people headed west over the bridge, pushing handcarts, carrying large rucksacks. Colditz proper was entirely on the east bank. There were just a few houses on the west. I thanked the woman and ran home as fast as I could in order to tell Mama so that we could secure a place in one of those houses over the bridge.

But she disagreed.

“No, Ludwig, we have to stay here. There will be no place over there for us to stay. Every house over the bridge is already over-full and I don’t know how far west we would have to walk to find somewhere — probably a hundred kilometres or more. We cannot with the little ones.” She was calm when she said this and, for the first time since the letter from Papa had arrived, it did not look like she had been crying. I, on the other hand, was becoming frantic.

“But the Russians, Mama! The Russians! Have you not been hearing the stories? They have been raping” — I knew roughly what this was by that time — “and robbing and murdering even!”

Mama sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. Then she opened them and looked at me directly. “Ludwig, I know very well about the Russians. You know Frau Bergen two doors down, yes? Her sister just arrived a few days ago from Cottbus. The Russians took that city on April 22. The fighting was terrible, she said. Thousands killed. Cottbus had been heavily bombed before too, so she said that in the end the whole city was just one giant rubble field surrounded by a ring of mass graves. After they won, the Russians raped