“More and more people are coming from the East. I don’t know where they all are going to live.” Oma Lou sighed.
“Do you think we are also going to leave Schwartz, Oma Lou?” Fritz asked, thinking of the dark stream of people and carts rolling slowly westward.
“Oh no! Your Grandpa and I are never going to live anywhere else.” Oma Lou placed the bread basket on the table.
“But how can Grandpa defend the village?”
Oma Lou fastened a strand of her hair back into her bun. “There will be very tough times ahead once the war is over,” she said, her voice low. She looked down and shook her head. “But leaving our home? Never! We don’t know anyone in the West.” She said what Fritz had hoped to hear. They wouldn’t leave the farm. But the sadness in her voice made it impossible for him to feel relieved.
That night Fritz could not fall asleep. He again thought of the hole in the forest and tried to imagine how he and his grandpa would fight the Russians. He knew he would fail Grandpa. Paul’s words also echoed in his head. Paul was so sure of everything, and he never seemed afraid. From the front room Fritz could hear the adults talking and the radio announcer warning the German people that “a grave and important announcement” was about to be made. Classical music followed. Then a man introduced himself as Grand Admiral Karl Dönitz, commander in chief for the north of Germany. Fritz strained his ears but could not hear the words. He got up and tiptoed into the hall, putting his ear close to the living room door. In somber tones, the man announced the death of Hitler and his own succession as führer of the Reich. Hitler had “fallen” that afternoon, he said, fighting “at the head of his troops.”
“Oh, God!” he heard Oma Lou exclaim. “Lord help us! What are they going to do to us?”
“Let’s get a white sheet and hang it out on the flagpole,” he heard Mama say.
“How dare you say this, Gertrude?” Grandfather boomed. “The führer gave his life for us!”
“Karl, not so loud!” whispered Oma Lou. “The children are sleeping.”
“We need to fight the Russians!” Grandpa’s voice was lower now.
“How?” Mama replied. “There aren’t even enough able men to do the farm work. Do you want the women and children to defend Schwartz against the Russian army? Why don’t you realize that it’s over? We don’t need any more death and destruction. I have two children to care for. Germany has lost the war! Now we can only hope for a new beginning.”
Fritz heard a deep sigh, then slow sobbing.
“Karl!” Oma Lou called out, alarmed.
“It’s over!” Grandpa sobbed.
6
At first he only saw their shoes.
Oma Lou’s were hanging a little higher than Grandpa’s heavy black shoes. A thin wedge of morning light came in from the window in the barn roof, illuminating the swastika stitched onto Grandfather’s right sleeve. For a moment it seemed as if the patch gave off the light itself. Grandpa’s suit looked as it had when hanging in the bedroom closet after it had been pressed. A dark stain, shaped like a spoon, grew along Oma Lou’s left stocking. Rope connected each neck to a broad beam above, the heads slightly cocked to one side, reminding Fritz of his hand puppets. Then, suddenly, he realized what he was seeing.
Fritz tried to breathe, but the air in the barn had turned thick. He needed to suck it through his nostrils in small portions.
Just as he took a step forward, he heard Mama’s cry from behind. She grabbed him, her hands covering his eyes. As she pulled him closer, he could smell the onions she had cut for dinner the night before. Her hands felt cool and moist from the tears she had wiped from her face. Fritz squeezed his eyes shut and pushed his face against her hands, as if by pressing hard he could erase the image he had just seen.
“Fritz! Let’s go inside!” Fritz made his legs move. When they stepped out of the barn, he was blinded for a second by the glare of sunlight flooding the yard. Mama led him inside to the living room sofa, and they sat side by side. She turned her face toward him, her eyes red and swollen.
“Why did they do this?” Fritz asked.
“Your Grandpa Karl was a very proud man,” Mama began. “He lost his belief in Germany, I guess.” She shook her head and looked at Fritz.
Fritz kept his eyes straight on Mama to keep the dark spot on Oma Lou’s stocking from coming back into his mind. He needed to hear Mama’s voice now, wanted to understand.
“Grandpa Karl was worried about what would happen after the war was lost. He was afraid he would lose all he had here in Schwartz. The last weeks have been very difficult for him.” Even though he now closed his eyes, Fritz saw Grandpa hanging stiffly from the beam. He remembered his loud voice when he had told Fritz about the German victory and how he and Fritz would fight the Russians. Now Fritz wouldn’t have to fight with Grandpa against the Russians. But there was no relief, just a pang of guilt.
“But what about Oma Lou?” Fritz swallowed hard. A salty taste crawled up his throat.
“The two of them had been married for forty years. I don’t think she would have wanted to live without him.”
“You are living without Papa for many years,” Fritz replied.
“Yes, but your father was killed in the war and left me with two small children. It is a different situation. I have to take care of you and your sister.” Mama gave a faint smile and squeezed his shoulder. “We’ll stick together and get through this.” She bent over and placed a kiss on his forehead. “Things will get better.” He squeezed her hand harder.
7
Lech was nailing together a casket when Fritz entered the barn. Mama had left to find Irmi who was delivering cream to the neighbors. Lech put down his hammer and walked over to the other side of the workbench, sat down, and patted the space beside him.
“Is this for Oma?” Fritz asked and imagined Oma Lou lying on the bottom of the large casket, stiff as a doll in a drawer.
“No, this is the casket for your grandpa. We’ll bury your grandma in her old dowry chest.” Lech put his arm around Fritz’s shoulder and pulled him closer. Fritz leaned his cheek against the leathery back of Lech’s hand.
“Your Oma Louise was a good woman,” Lech said. “But she is probably better off where she is now.” Fritz was not sure about that, but he wanted Lech to keep talking. Hearing Lech’s voice and feeling the weight of his arm around his shoulders helped slow down the spinning images in his head. Fritz imagined how the caskets would be buried side by side in the village cemetery.
“Were they so afraid of the Russians? Is that why they did this?” Fritz asked. Lech took a deep breath before he answered.
“Well, your grandpa wore the uniform with the swastika. He was worried about what would happen to him after the Russians came.”
Fritz, once again, saw Grandpa Karl under that pine tree, showing him the hole. “I want you to know where it is in case something happens to me,” Grandpa had said. Had Grandpa known that he wouldn’t be there when the Russians came? Fritz wanted to tell Lech about the hole. Was there a point in keeping a dead person’s secret?
Lech leaned forward and turned to look at Fritz’s face.
“Hey,” Lech said, shaking Fritz gently. “It’s going to be all right.”
Fritz nodded. But there was one more thing he wanted to ask. “Will you go back home now that the war is over?” Fritz held his breath for a moment, afraid of the answer.
“No, I think I’ll stick around for a while,” he said, turning to Fritz with a big smile. “I like it here, and before I had to leave my village my brother and I had a big fight. We used to run a farm together, but then he wanted me out. Even if I went back to Poland, there wouldn’t be anything to go back to.” He paused. “I think your mother can use some help, and I still need to teach you how to carve.”