Chapter Twenty-Five
‘It is important for us to continue to improve Anglo-German relationships. We started with entertaining the German children and organizing sports events between the services and the population.’
Elsa looked up from her writing pad and lifted an eyebrow at the man sitting on the other side of the desk. ‘I thought that was because you needed the German facilities and land.’
The colonel accepted her observation gracefully. ‘It was for both reasons, but I would rather the latter is not reported.’
‘The local press is happy to report it as you suggest.’
The colonel smiled. ‘Good. Are you ready for the next paragraph?’
Elsa nodded and poised her pen in readiness.
The colonel noisily cleared his throat. The face the colonel showed the public could be at times fierce but he had always been kind and respectful to her.
Elsa had realized early on that he appreciated efficiency, covert reminders and prompts.
Elsa was good at all three and their working relationship was far easier and more enjoyable than she had dared to hope.
‘We feel that the playing field should be accessible to amateurs as well as professionals. It will be a great leveller, as political matters and language barriers have little relevance in sport.’ The colonel drank deeply from his cup of tea and leaned back in his chair.
‘Of course, I’m not a fool. I’m aware more than anyone that relations between the occupying force and the general public are still variable.
’ He swept his hand to one side as he continued to speak.
‘At one end it is hostile, at the other there are international marriages, and in between there’s still a reluctance on either side to form deep friendships, but it is what we strive—’
Elsa glanced up from her notes. ‘It is difficult to form deep friendships with an occupying force that requisitions land and houses, particularly when they are in such short supply.’
‘Both sides have their complaints, Elsa. The occupying forces would rather be home with their families.’
‘I know.’
‘Ultimately, the soldiers and officers on the ground have little say in the matter.’
Elsa raised her eyebrows and smiled at him. ‘So, we do have something in common.’
The colonel returned her smile. ‘Yes, we do.’ He braced his shoulders.
‘However, we do have some say in our willingness to make this time more pleasant for all of us and I have to thank you, Elsa, for your help in this.’ He watched her pen as she corrected a word in her notepad.
‘You didn’t translate the bit after I drank the tea, did you? ’
‘No. I saw that as a sign you had stopped dictating.’
Reassured he sat forward, his hands neatly clasped together on his desk. ‘You are good at your job.’
‘You also used the word “fool”, which I thought was best not to take down.’
The colonel chuckled. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you, Elsa.’
‘You would simply employ another translator.’
‘But translation is an art. Both sides have to trust that the translator is doing their job accurately in words and tone. The tone alone can turn a conversation on different paths. You have helped people on both sides greatly, including my wife and children. Your tutoring has helped them settle easier. They have no say where I am posted. They are simply dragged along too.’
‘I’ve enjoyed teaching them.’
‘I’m aware our troops live in their own British bubble here on the base. British theatre, British shops, British schools. It is their own little country.’
‘Which I suspect is on purpose.’
The officer acknowledged it with a slight curve of his smile. ‘They are young soldiers who are representing their country, both on and off duty. Of course, a few do venture off base.’ He winced. ‘They learn the odd phrase or two.’
Elsa hid her smile at his discomfort. They both knew the most common German phrases picked up by the young soldiers were ‘one beer’, ‘another beer’ and ‘he’s paying’.
She looked up to find he had read her thoughts and was smiling too.
She had grown to like the new officer and his family.
She found that they were able to talk frankly to each other, which helped him as much as it helped the people Elsa felt she represented .
. . the ordinary German civilians who were displaced or lived in the area.
Reconstruction, feeding, rehousing and denazification were the occupiers’ aims. Elsa could not disagree, although she wished the Germans could be left to do it for themselves.
‘I see our presence as more of a policing role,’ the colonel went on, ‘to prevent the rise of fascism in the void left by the war.’
‘And in that role you have power and privilege, which reminds us daily of what we have lost.’
‘It is a difficult situation for both of our countries.’ He brightened. ‘You must come for a meal. My wife would like that.’
‘On the base?’
‘Yes. I will let them know at the checkpoint.’
‘Thank you. That would be nice.’
‘Is there anyone you would like to bring? A husband?’
‘I’m not married.’
‘I thought you were.’
‘No.’
‘Do you have any parents? Siblings?’
‘They died during the war.’
‘You also have Miriam.’
She thought of the child who was almost as tall as she was now.
It had taken them several months to stop using the name Klara, but it was important to Elsa, for documentation and, more importantly, for Miriam, to understand who she was and reclaim her rightful name.
However, reclaiming her birth name had not been easy.
In the months that followed the war, she had found that antisemitism still lingered in some, leading to Elsa questioning her decision many times when alone.
Slowly Jewish communities had started to rebuild.
However, although Miriam began to accept her own Jewish identity, that could not heal the wound caused by years of not wanting to stand out in a crowd.
Elsa hoped that her curiosity in her faith would blossom further and that one day she would feel safe enough to openly celebrate it.
The colonel gently placed his cup on his saucer. His earlier energy faded, along with his smile. ‘I’m sorry Miriam’s family didn’t survive,’ he said quietly. She looked up at his unusually soft tone. ‘The horror they must have endured. Have you told her?’
She had heard similar words of sympathy many times over the years, but it was his knowing gaze that brought tears to her eyes. He had once confided that he had seen one of the death camps and it still gave him nightmares.
‘I have told her that her family died in the war, but the true horror I will leave until she is older. She deserves a childhood. She waited long enough for one.’
‘Very wise.’
‘Will that be all?’
The colonel nodded. She stood up to leave.
‘Elsa, is there any way I can help you? You are always doing your best to make those around you better, but perhaps I could use my contacts to help you.’
Elsa placed her notepad and pen into her bag as her mind raced.
If she had any extended family still living, she did not want to see them.
She had lost contact with them when she left for Gollnow all those years ago and had no way of knowing how they would judge her now.
Her life was stable after years of uncertainty and fear.
She had no desire to change it. She thought of Sam and her fingers began to tremble.
‘Elsa?’
She glanced up at him. The colonel could use his contacts to find Sam.
It would be so easy to ask. She would find out if he’d survived the war.
She would be able to . . . She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out.
Instead images of him receiving a letter from her flashed through her mind.
A letter that could stir up torturous memories he would rather forget, turn his settled life upside down or revive the obligation to fulfil a promise he had made many years ago.
If he’d survived, he could be married with a family of his own.
She did not want to burden him with promises and obligations.
She shook her head. ‘Thank you. But I can’t think of anything at the moment.’ She looked away, unable to witness his obvious disappointment that she had declined. ‘I should go.’
He stood too. ‘I will let you know about the meal after I’ve spoken to my wife. I might be in charge of Hamburg, but it is Lydia who is in charge at home. Bring your entourage too.’
Elsa smiled. ‘Both?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘You have been so kind to me since your arrival. So understanding. We will look forward to it.’ She left the room before he could say any more.
Elsa stepped outside and looked up into the sky.
A blanket of white, grey-edged clouds hung heavy in the damp, chilly air that caressed her skin.
She finished buttoning up her coat and walked briskly along the pavement, which bustled with pedestrians.
They appeared smartly dressed but if one took the time to look closely, one would be able to see the frayed edges of their garments and worn soles of their shoes.
However, despite Hamburg being all but demolished in the heavy bombing raids, it had been quick to rebuild and now, only six years after the end of the war, cars, three-wheeled delivery trikes and small lorries scrambled for space on the worn road.
A red-and-cream tram appeared. As it paused momentarily, Elsa quickly embarked, paid her fare and settled down next to a man wearing a trilby and reading a newspaper.
She was lucky to have a seat, for the trams in Hamburg were always full.
This normality lived alongside the reminders of war.
Large, tall office buildings and shops neighboured swathes of vacant plots where rubble had been cleared or where skeletons of damaged buildings waited forlornly for demolition.
As always, when she found herself with some valuable solitude, albeit on a crowded tram, her mind filled with the handsome man with brown eyes she had come to know so well over a short space of time.
As she stared out of the tram window at the city of Hamburg, she wondered what Sam was doing now.
Was he married? Did he have a son that looked like him?
When the tram stopped, she placed his memories back into the locked, sacred space of her mind to wait for another moment of solitude where she could revisit them again — like the precious, comforting friends they had come to be.