Gudrun felt tears welling at the corner of her eyes. She knew Konrad was crippled, not cheating on her… but she couldn’t say that out loud. Siegfried… had all the innocent malice of a child; he didn’t know just how badly his words had hurt her. Their father banished Siegfried from the room, promising him that he wouldn’t have anything to eat until the following morning.
“A little hunger will teach you a lesson,” he shouted after his youngest son. “And I don’t want to hear a peep out of you for an hour!”
“It’s going to be ok,” Kurt said, reaching out to take Gudrun’s arm. “Konrad…”
“… Is perfectly fine,” their father said, turning back to them. “Just because he hasn’t written to you in months doesn’t mean he’s dead, or wounded, or looking elsewhere. He’s a stormtrooper, Gudrun. They’re sometimes barred from sending home letters until their operation is completed.”
“He’d have told me something,” Gudrun protested. She had to see the leaflet before she said something she couldn’t justify. “Please! Show me the leaflet!”
“It’s none of your concern,” her father said, sternly.
“Father,” Kurt said quietly, “ignorance won’t protect her…”
Their father glared at him. “Knowledge won’t save her either.”
“Fetch the rest of the food,” Gudrun’s mother ordered. “And put some aside for Siegfried.”
“I said he wasn’t to have any food until tomorrow,” their father snapped, rounding on his wife. “He’s going to learn a lesson!”
“And he will need to eat a proper meal for breakfast tomorrow,” their mother said. She’d never disagreed with any of their father’s punishments, but she’d sometimes acted to moderate them. “He’s got school in the morning and Hitler Youth in the evening. He doesn’t need a bad fitness report from his teachers.”
Gudrun winced as she hurried back into the kitchen, wiping the tears from her eyes. A bad fitness report could be disastrous, particularly if Siegfried wanted to get into the air force or the navy. It was at least four years before he could join, but if the recruiters had too many volunteers they might look as far back as the Hitler Youth to decide who should be given a chance. Siegfried had always been a little nastier than her other brothers – she dreaded to think of what would happen if he ever worked out that she’d helped write the leaflets – yet he didn’t deserve to have his life ruined by being too hungry to march, run or play football with the other children.
She put enough food aside for him, then carried the rest of it back into the dining room and placed it on the table. Kurt and their father were seated, staring at each other, while their mother was standing behind their father, wringing her hands together. Gudrun didn’t really blame her for being worried. There had been arguments before, of course, but then her children had been children. Now, Kurt was an adult with his own life, Gudrun was old enough to marry and Johan would be going into the army next year, unless he passed the university entrance exams. Only Siegfried was still a child and he was growing up fast.
Kurt waved cheerfully to Johan as he entered the room, then took a potato from the pan and leaned forward. “What happened at work?”
“Those damnable leaflets were being handed out by young women in BDM clothes,” their father said. “We had to round up every girl in the square, which naturally brought dozens of parents to mass on the other side of the barricades…”
“The girls were handing out the leaflets?” Kurt asked. He made a show of stroking his chin thoughtfully. “How… strange.”
“As I said,” their father snarled, “the girls handing them out wore BDM uniforms, but they were apparently not BDM.”
“And yet they wore those uniforms voluntarily,” Kurt mused. He winked cheerfully at Gudrun. “They must have escaped from the madhouse.”
Gudrun kicked him under the table. Her mother smacked her on the head, then sat down and started to ladle food onto her plate. Gudrun ate quickly, trying to follow the argument; Kurt seemed more inclined to wonder at how many soldiers hadn’t been writing home, while her father flatly refused to consider the matter. The leaflet itself was nowhere in sight; she guessed her father had shoved it into his pocket, then buttoned it up.
“The discussion is closed,” her father said, finally. “There will be no more talk of it within my house.”
Kurt scowled at him. “How many soldiers haven’t come home?”
“The discussion is closed,” her father repeated. “When are you going back on duty?”
“We’re supposed to start prepping for deployment in a month,” Kurt said, shortly. “I’m not sure where we’re going yet, but the CO is insistent we get ready for intensive training.”
Gudrun felt her blood run cold. “South Africa?”
“Probably,” Kurt said. He didn’t sound pleased. “We may be stationed in Germany Arabia, but South Africa or Germany East sounds likelier.”
“You’ll do fine, wherever you go,” their father said. He gave Kurt a look of approval that twisted Gudrun’s heart. What did she have to do to earn her father’s approval? “I’m proud of you.”
“You might die – or be wounded,” Gudrun said. She shuddered as the full implications struck her. Kurt could wind up as badly wounded as Konrad – or worse – and they’d never know what had happened. “What would it mean if you stopped writing…?”
“That will do,” her father snapped. He fixed Gudrun with an icy glare that rooted her to the spot. “The university has done nothing for your mind, young lady. It’s high time you and Konrad were married and started raising children.”
Gudrun stared at him in shock. She’d known her father was a traditionalist, but she’d always thought he was proud of her university career. The exams she’d passed to enter were among the hardest in the Reich. Once she graduated, she’d be in a good position to make a professional life for herself, rather than becoming just another housewife.
“Father…”
“I mean it,” her father said. His eyes never left her face. “I should never have agreed to let you go to the university when you had a perfectly acceptable suitor. Young girls…”
“My boyfriend is a cripple,” Gudrun shouted, feeling her temper snap. “There won’t be a marriage!”
“You don’t know he’s a cripple,” Kurt said, quickly. He looked at their father, clearly trying to draw his wrath away from Gudrun. “You should have let her see the leaflet.”
Their mother slapped the table, hard. “Gudrun, take Grandpa Frank his dinner,” she ordered, as silence fell like a hammer. “And then go to your room. Your father and I will discuss your future when this affair is over.”
Gudrun swallowed. If Kurt hadn’t covered for her, she might have revealed far too much to their father. “I…”
“Go,” her father ordered. Her voice brooked of no objection. “I’ll speak to you before I go out.”
“Yes, father,” Gudrun said. There was no point in arguing. She’d be lucky, after the shouting match, if they allowed her to go into the university tomorrow. “I’ll be waiting.”
Chapter Fifteen
Wieland House, Berlin
28 July 1985
I shouldn’t have lost my temper like that, Gudrun thought, as she walked slowly up the stairs, the tray balanced neatly on one hand. Father is not going to be pleased.
She shuddered as she reached the top of the stairs. Her father was the master of the house, as far as he was concerned, and even his adult children couldn’t defy him without punishment – if, of course, he considered her an adult at all. She was, after all, a girl… she’d pass straight from her father’s authority to her husband’s without ever having any true freedom of her own. Konrad had seemed willing to accept her as anything but a housewife, yet would that have lasted once they were married? He might have changed his mind when his comrades starting mocking him for having a wife who actually worked.