Chapter 34 Treasure Beyond Measure. Again
TREASURE BEYOND MEASURE. AGAIN
We put Joe on my bed. “He’ll need somebody with him,” I said. “I’ll sleep on a pallet on the floor, and Andrea can—”
“Can what?” Frau Adelberg said. “Can help shelter the enemy?”
Andrea came in at this moment along with the two little boys. They were all panting, and dragging the soldier’s rucksack. It had clearly taken all three of them to get it up the stairs. Matti said, “Here’s his stuff. We should search for secret papers!”
“No,” Gerhardt said, “for weapons! There are two grenades downstairs,” he told Frau Adelberg. “We should dispose of them, but I said we should ask permission first. You pull the pin out and throw them, so we could throw them in the street. That would be safe.”
Frau Adelberg shrieked, and Andrea said, “I’ll go put them up high, shall I?”
“No,” Dr. Becker said, “you stay here. I’ll go put them up high. In a minute.”
Frau Adelberg moaned, patting her ample bosom. “Oh, what have you done, Daisy? We’ll all die in our beds!”
“Well,” I pointed out, “I’ll be the one sleeping in here. If he kills me, I’ll try to make noise in the process, so you can escape with your lives. He only has one good arm, though, and it’s his left. I’m sure it’s much harder to kill people with only one good arm.”
“He’s not our enemy,” Dr. Becker said, “at least he’s not mine.
He’s the Third Reich’s enemy, certainly, but we—” He caught himself with a look of horror, then relaxed and said, “I forget that I’ve told you already, Frau Adelberg, that I’m a Jew.
I’ve been hiding for so long, you see. But in this, yes, you can say I’m disloyal.
Even during the bombings, I’ve wished only for the Allies to hit their targets.
Not to hit me, you understand,” he said with another flash of that humor, “or any of us, but to hit the marshaling yards and the factories? Oh, yes, I’ve wished that.
I’ve wished for them to do enough harm that Hitler has no choice but to end this war. ”
Frau Adelberg hadn’t been listening, but had continued patting her bosom and shaking her head. Now, she said, “Oh, what have we done? What have we done? You must have been seen, Daisy.”
“By the boy, yes,” I said. “Your neighbors may know, if he’s gone back inside to tell them, but do you think they care at the moment?
They’re probably all hiding under the bed.
” The battle was truly upon us now, the chatter of a machine gun, the loud reports of rifle fire, the shaking force of an explosion.
“If the Americans lose, though,” Frau Adelberg said. She was literally wringing her hands.
“If they lose what?” I asked rudely. “The war? They aren’t going to lose the war. How can they?”
“The secret weapon, though,” Frau Adelberg said. “For Hitler’s birthday. That’s only two days from now.”
“If Hitler had a secret weapon,” I said, “he’d have used it already.
And if the Americans are driven back in this battle, more forces will join them, that’s all.
I don’t think they’ll be driven back, though.
They’ve been advancing through the town so far, haven’t they?
And Germany is besieged on all sides now. ”
“How do you know that?” Frau Adelberg asked. “I’ve heard nothing about it on the wireless.”
“From the other refugees,” I said. “Somebody hears something or knows something, and they pass it along. The Russians are just outside Berlin, the British outside Hamburg and Bremen, the French at Salzburg. Frankfurt is taken, and the Ruhr Valley, and Goebbels speaks only of the heroism of a last stand, a fight to the death. Or have you heard of him saying something else?”
“No,” Frau Adelberg admitted. “I’ve heard the same.”
“And personally,” I said, “I don’t want to fight to the death. Do you?”
“Well, no,” she said. “I prefer to remain alive.”
“The war will end soon, or it won’t,” I said. “I think it will be very soon, but what can we do but wait and see? That’s not what’s important right now, though. I need to get this man water.” His eyes were open now and fixed on me, though he was still pale and sweating. “And soup, perhaps.”
“If we make soup for the enemy, though,” Frau Adelberg said. “Bad enough we have him here.”
I said, “What if it were your Emil, shot like this in the street in … in France? Wouldn’t you want some Frenchwoman to save him?”
“Yes,” Frau Adelberg said, “but I can’t imagine she’d do it!” The man on the bed smiled, I thought, but it turned into a grimace. “How are you intending to get rid of him?” Frau Adelberg went on. “Can you tell me that?”
“I’m not planning to,” I said, “not until the fighting ends. When it does, I’ll figure out a way. And in the meantime, he’ll need to eat. I’d make soup, but I don’t know how. A pity we don’t have a chicken. Frau Heffinger always said chicken soup was the thing for mending hurts.”
Frau Adelberg raised her hands and eyes to the sky. “And now she wants to give him a chicken,” she told the ceiling.
“Well, as we don’t have a chicken,” I said, struggling not to laugh—it wasn’t funny, I knew, so why did it feel funny?—“the question doesn’t arise.”
Dr. Becker said, “I can make soup.”
“Oh, good,” I said. “Frau Adelberg, the dough should be risen now and needs baking.”
She sniffed. “I know very well how to bake bread, thank you. And you don’t know how to make a simple potato soup? A great girl like you?”
“No,” I said. “I fear my education has been sadly lacking.”
She shook her head. “Well, on your own head be it. If the authorities come for me, at least I can tell them that I refused to make the soup.”
The man motioned to me, then pointed to the floor. I asked, “What is it?”
“Rucksack,” he said. “Mein Rucksack.”
“You speak German?” I asked, but he shook his head.
I struggled to lift the thing—how had the children dragged it up the stairs, even with three of them? It was monstrously heavy. Dr, Becker jumped to help me, and Frau Adelberg screamed a little and said, “Don’t give it to him! What if he pulls out a pistol and kills us all?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” I said. “I’ll empty it, then, shall I?” I asked the man in English, and he said, “Yes. Empty it.”
There was no pistol in the rucksack, and no other weapons, either.
I supposed that was because the man had carried his knife, a bayonet, and grenades on his belt, as well as more ammunition and a canteen of water.
I needed to tell Dr. Becker about all of that, too.
There was a great deal of extra ammunition in the rucksack, though, which Dr. Becker silently placed on top of the wardrobe—another reason I should stay in the room; the little boys certainly knew how to climb onto chairs!
There was also a sort of folding shovel, which he placed next to the ammunition—how long would it have taken the boys to decide to stage their own battle?
Below that, I found a folded rain poncho, a pair of extra socks, and a large can marked “Water.”
And a box marked with a red cross.
“Open it,” the man said.
I did, and Dr. Becker started forward and said, “Let me see.” He pulled items from it with little cries of delight. “Sulfa powder and wound dressings, and a roll of bandaging! Now we shall see. Morphine, also. Daisy, remind him that he has morphine.”
I did, and the man said, “I don’t want it. I should keep my wits about me.” He was talking through his teeth, though, and seemed most uncomfortable.
“You’re safe here,” I said.
“Oh, I don’t know,” he said, with the ghost of a smile. “The boys seem a bit bloodthirsty.”
I was so surprised, I laughed, then translated.
“How does he know?” Dr. Becker said, frowning.
“How do you know?” I asked the man again. “And what’s your name? I can’t keep calling you ‘the soldier.’”
He attempted a shrug and winced. “Aren’t little boys always bloodthirsty? Look at the one who shot at me. I didn’t realize it was a kid, not until later.”
“Yes, well,” I said, “he was trying to kill you.”
“Hence the wits,” he said, and smiled. I smiled back. His smile was so kind, I couldn’t help it. “My name is Joe,” he said. “I’d shake hands, but—” He gestured to the sling.
“Daisy,” I said, and introduced the others.
“I must get this sulfa powder into that wound,” Dr. Becker said. “Tell him that I’m sorry, but I’ll have to remove the stitches and stitch him up again after”
“OK,” Joe said after I’d translated. “If you have some more of that Schnapps …”
“I’ll drink it with you tonight,” Dr. Becker said. “For now, one morphine tablet.”
Joe didn’t answer, but said, “The heavy thing at the bottom is a radio. Pull it out, will you?”
I did. A black box, complete with earphones. It had two bullet holes in it.
“Well, so much for that,” Joe said. “Better the radio than me. Those bullets would have gone right through my back otherwise. I always was lucky. One more thing in there, though, and we’ll hope that’s not shot up.”.”
“It’s a cardboard box,” I said.
“Open it,” Joe said.
Frau Adelberg said, “Don’t open it! What if it’s a bomb?”
“Would he want to blow himself up?” I asked, exasperated. And I’d thought I was frightened during that first bombing raid. But then, the war hadn’t really come to Frau Adelberg before. Of course it was a shock.
“Who knows?” Frau Adelberg said. “The Japanese do it. Kammy-kazzee, they call it.”
I translated, and Joe grinned in a tired sort of way and said, “I’m not unselfish enough for that, I’m afraid. OK, then, I’ll open it. You can stand behind the door, if you like.”
Frau Adelberg and the children—at her command, for they didn’t want to go—retreated behind the open door, but I saw two little heads peering around it curiously, one above the other. Joe fumbled with the box with his left hand, and I finally gave in and helped him.
And stared at what was inside, speechless.
“What is it?” Frau Adelberg called. “Is it safe?”
I found my voice. “Oh, yes. It’s safe. It’s … it’s treasure beyond measure.”