CHAPTER 13 - OLDENBURG, GERMANY—DECEMBER 2, 1916
Anna, bundled in a knee-length wool coat with Nia at her side, waited in anticipation for a battle-blinded veteran named Maximilian Benesch to arrive at the Oldenburg train station.
She knew little about him, except that he was a Jewish soldier from Leipzig who was blinded while fighting at the front.
She’d spent the past few days organizing the kitchen and spare bedroom, as well as rearranging living room furniture, to create a conducive environment for the visually impaired.
Even Norbie, who was fond of the clutter in his workshop, had pushed away workbenches and display cases to create a straight path between the storefront door and the stairs to their upper-floor home.
The evening train was running late. To occupy her time, she retrieved an envelope from her purse. She unfolded Bruno’s letter, his first correspondence in over two weeks, and read it for the second time.
Anna patted Nia. I miss receiving his letters, and the poems he wrote for me when we first met. Guilt swelled up in her heart. It’s selfish of me to crave attention when he’s fighting for sur vival. She shook away her thoughts and continued reading.
Anna took a deep breath and exhaled. She assumed that she would move to Frankfurt after the war.
But they hadn’t discussed her work at the guide dog school.
How can I leave Oldenburg when so many dogs will be needed to for battle-blinded soldiers?
She stroked Nia’s ears and decided to worry about it later.
A train whistle blew. Anna folded the letter and placed it inside her purse.
Wheels screeched over steel rails. Thick puffs of steam and smoke, like miniature storm clouds, spewed from the locomotive.
The train slowed to a stop and the vapor dispersed.
Carriage doors opened and passengers exited, one by one, onto the landing.
Tired and hungry from her day working at the guide dog school, she stood on her toes and scanned the crowd. An acrid scent of burnt coal filled her nostrils. “Do you see him?” she asked, glancing at Nia.
Nia perked her ears.
The throng of people, a mixture of civilians and military personnel, scattered through the station.
After most of the passengers had disembarked the train, a soldier emerged from a carriage.
Walking backward down the steps, he helped a man—holding a walking stick and wearing a charcoal-colored military trench coat—from the carriage.
“There,” Anna said. She clasped Nia’s harness and approached the men. “Hallo. Maximilian Benesch?”
“Ja.” Max released the soldier’s arm, and then placed the tip of his walking stick on the ground. “Please, call me Max.”
“I’m Anna.” She paused, debating whether she should attempt to shake his hand and decided against it when he clasped his walking stick with both hands, like a sheepman unwilling to part with his crook.
Unlike many soldiers who sported mustaches or beards, Max was clean-shaven, save a bit of stubble on his chin and slightly uneven sideburns.
He was tall and lean with pronounced cheekbones.
Dark brown hair, a bit long for a soldier, hung from under his cap.
“Here’s your luggage.” The soldier, appearing as if he was running late for an engagement, placed a leather suitcase at Max’s feet. “Good luck to you.”
“Danke.” Max stared ahead.
The soldier tipped his cap to Anna and left.
Nia sniffed Max’s leg and wagged her tail.
He shifted his weight.
“This is Nia, a soon-to-be guide dog,” she said. “Would you like to pet her?”
He hesitated, cupping the top of his stick with his hands.
Maybe he’s tired from the trip. “You’ll be working with guide dogs for the next two months. I think it is best that we properly get acquainted.” She gently clasped his hand and shook it, noticing his firm but gentle grip. “I’m Anna Zeller, your host while you train in Oldenburg.”
The lines in his face softened. “It’s nice to meet you, Anna.”
She placed his palm on the dog’s head. “This is Nia.”
Max stroked the dog’s ears and smiled. “Hallo, Nia.”
Nia looked up and panted, her tongue hanging from her mouth.
“Will I be working with her?” Max asked.
“Nein,” Anna said, attempting to hide her disappointment.
“Nia’s not quite ready for training. Rolf Fleck, the supervisor, will decide which shepherd will be assigned to you.
” She looked at him. “It’s a twenty-minute walk to my home.
Would you like to hold my arm, or would you like to clasp the handle to Nia’s harness? ”
Max picked up his suitcase and tapped the stick to the pavement. “I’m accustomed to using this.”
He’ll soon be walking with a guide dog; no need for me to put him to work tonight, she thought.
Anna, providing verbal directions, guided Max through the train station.
Outside, they traversed the sidewalks, illuminated by a dull, flickering glow of gas streetlamps.
Frigid air turned their breath into mist. She attempted to initiate conversation, but Max—focused on navigating the craggy cobblestone—provided cursory responses to her questions.
They spoke little, other than for guidance on the route, until they neared Anna’s street.
“What’s wrong with Nia?” Max asked.
Anna squeezed the harness handle. “She’s recovering.”
“It sounds like she’s limping,” he said, slowing his pace.
Anna glanced to Nia, favoring her right front leg as she padded over the sidewalk. “Her paws were injured while serving as an ambulance dog at the front.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Trenches?”
“Ja,” Anna said. “How did you know?”
“Even with leather boots and frequent changes of socks, the mud wreaked havoc on men’s feet. I assume the trenches were even worse for dogs.”
Anna slowed her pace and patted Nia’s back. “Her front paw becomes tender after prolonged walks. However, she’s getting better.” But not fast enough for Fleck.
He stopped and inhaled, as if he were catching his breath. “It’s okay, Nia. I sometimes get fatigued, too.”
Nia glanced to him and limped ahead.
“Here we are,” Anna said, reaching the door. She undid the lock with a key from her purse and guided Max inside. Ticktocks thrummed in her ears.
Max perked his head.
“My vater, Norbie, is a clockmaker,” she said. “We live above his workshop.”
He nodded and placed his stick to his chest.
She led him upstairs to the kitchen, where Norbie was warming up leftover soup for dinner. A sulfuric turnipy smell, much like overcooked cabbage, filled the air. “Vater, this is Max.”
“Hallo.” Norbie covered a steaming pot with a lid and approached Max. “I’m Norbie.”
Max put down his suitcase and extended his hand.
“Welcome to our home,” Norbie said, shaking his hand. “We’re happy to have you stay with us.”
“Danke,” Max said.
“How was your trip?” Norbie asked.
“Gut,” Max said.
Anna removed Nia’s harness. The dog hobbled to Norbie to receive a rub under her chin, and then settled on the floor. You’ll feel better tomorrow, Anna hoped. She took Max’s coat and cap, and hung them on a rack near the stairs. “Do I have time to give Max a quick tour before dinner?”
“Absolutely,” Norbie said. “I’ll keep the soup warm.”
Anna, like a boardinghouse host, led Max through the kitchen, pointing out the location of cupboards, stove, sink, table, and chairs.
Entering the living room, she said, “On the left is a sofa and an upholstered chair, followed by a small table with a gramophone. In the corner is a kachelofen (tiled stove). We’re low on coal, which you likely noticed by the chill in the house.
You might need to wear layers to sleep.”
Max nodded.
“Please, feel free to explore as much as you like.”
He shuffled forward, lightly tapping his stick, and located furniture.
“You’re approaching a bookcase,” she said. “I was informed that you might have received instruction on reading braille. I acquired a few books through the hospital. I hope you like them.”
“Danke. I’m sure I will.” He glided his fingers over books and moved on.
“Piano.”
Max paused, resting a hand on the keyboard. He tapped a few keys, producing a twangy resonance.
“It’s badly out of tune, I’m afraid. It hasn’t been played in years.” A dull ache rose in Anna’s abdomen. “It was my mutter’s. She died when I was a child.”
“I’m sorry,” Max said.
“Danke,” she said. “Do you play?”
“I used to, but not anymore.”
“Maybe you’ll want to try again during your stay.”
“Nein, danke.” He removed his hand from the piano. “Where would you like me to put my things?”
“Upstairs.” She led him to a third-floor spare room, which contained a bed, nightstand, and a chest of drawers. “The water closet is at the end of the hall. Please make yourself comfortable and take as much time as you need. Come down to the kitchen when you are ready to join us for dinner.”
He put down his suitcase. “All right.”
Anna closed the door, and then descended the stairs to the kitchen.
“Is Max settling in?” Norbie asked, placing spoons and napkins on the table.
“Ja.” She retrieved bowls from a cupboard and placed them on the counter. “He seems a bit sad. I know he’s been through a lot, but I expected him to be enthusiastic about being here.”
“Leaving his home might be difficult for him,” Norbie said. “It might take some time for him to adjust.”
Anna nodded.
Fifteen minutes later, Max descended the stairs to the kitchen.
Nia hobbled to him and nuzzled his leg.
“Looks like you made a friend,” Norbie said.
Max nodded and patted Nia.
They sat at the table—Max between Norbie and Anna—with steaming bowls of turnip soup and three thin slices of black war bread. Norbie said a brief prayer, requesting a swift end to war and famine.
“It’s kind of you to share your food with me,” Max said.
“You’re quite welcome,” Norbie said. “Anna’s a remarkable cook. She can make a delectable soup from ugly turnips and scraps of potato peels.”
“Vater exaggerates,” Anna said, feeling appreciative for his sweet words. She took a spoonful of soup, bitter and lacking flavor.