Three-quarters of the sky was darkened by smoke from the thousands of fires which were burning at Tempelhof, along the autobahns, and in Berlin. I looked from Paula’s blond hair to the ravaged landscape.
Once more, we fell down on the grass. I didn’t know what to say to comfort her. When we had regained some of our strength, we walked slowly down the autobahn. There, truckloads of rescue workers were driving toward Tempelhof. Without any signal, a truck stopped beside us.
“Come on, you young ones. They need you down there.”
We looked at each other.
“Yes. We’re just coming.”
“Paula, I’ll help you climb up.”
The trucks were picking up everyone they met. One section of the city was abandoned so that another, at least, might be saved. We worked for hours, pulling out the wounded. The Hitlerjugend from a nearby hostel volunteered for the most dangerous jobs, in search of heroism. Many of them were killed, disappearing in the torrential collapse of burning timber frames.
We managed to find a refuge late that night, in an apartment that had been three-quarters destroyed. Dizzy with fatigue, we collapsed onto a bed, and lay there, too tired to speak, staring into the darkness with wide-open eyes. Thousands of luminous butterflies seemed to be dancing in front of us. They looked as solid and tangible as living creatures. My retina, stamped with the lights of the fires, continued to light my inner vision. One of Paula’s hands twisted a button on my dusty tunic.
“Do you think we can sleep here?” she said. “I don’t know, but anyway…”
“If anyone found us here, we might get into trouble.” What could she be thinking of?
“I don’t care. I’m too tired.”
Paula, who was sucking one of her skinned fingers, said nothing. I slid my hand under her head, and fully prepared to affront God or the Devil, pulled her to me, kissing her passionately, as her torn hands stroked my hair. We were trying to catch up with what life had denied us that afternoon, but quickly succumbed to sleep, overcome by exhaustion.
We spent all next day cleaning up. It took about a week to restore some kind of functional order. However, in the evening, we were relieved by fresh volunteers, who had been rounded up so that the first group could return to their usual occupations. Luckily for me, I was not impressed into any obligatory duties, although as a soldier on leave I was not involved in any essential activities.
Two more days went by, during which I hardly left Paula’s side. Every morning I brought a fresh supply of chocolates and cigarettes from my father’s package for us to consume together. The capital was binding up its wounds and burying its dead. Long funeral processions twisted through the streets. The heroic city was returning to its usual productive rhythm.
I only had five days left, and felt oppressed and anguished by the prospect of departure. Paula, who dreaded it as much as I did, tried to fill my mind with other thoughts. Luckily, there were no further raids. The Neubachs had lost all their windows, and had to repair a section of their roof. Three bombs had fallen only 150 yards away, on the square, which now looked like a street in Minsk.
Paula’s mother, whom I had met, began to think it rather strange that her daughter never left my side — we met every evening, as well as every day — but she took the times into account, and raised no objection. Paula, who had more money than I did, took me to the movies one evening. We saw a film called Immen See, based on a poem about water lilies.
We lived this way until the day of my departure. I was due at the Silesian station at seven in the evening. The Neubachs were touching in their expressions of good will when I said goodbye to them. They understood that I wished to spend my last hours with the girl they considered my fiancée. Frau Neubach insisted on giving me a heavy pullover which had belonged to Ernst. Her husband gave me cigars, soap, and two boxes of tinned food. They both embraced me, and made me promise to come and see them on my next leave. I assured them I would, and that I’d send them my news from time to time. I asked them to look out for Paula.
“You love her, don’t you?” Frau Neubach asked me gently.
“Oh yes, Frau Neubach.” Despite an attempt at calm, my voice rang with emotion.
I kissed them both, and left. At the reception center, the feld gave Paula permission to go up to the dormitory with me and help me pack.
I could feel my throat knotting with sorrow. How long would it be before I saw Paula again? We repeated over and over again how much we loved each other, and began to feel somewhat calmer. I would certainly have another leave in three or four months, and Paula, of course, would wait for me. She swore that she would write to me every day, that soon we would belong to each other, that we would marry. Her warm lips murmured this to me a thousand times as we kissed. The war must end soon… it can’t go on like this. We can’t have another horrible winter like the one last year. Everyone had suffered more than enough, and the fighting would have to stop: we felt sure of it.
We arrived at the Silesian station, to find that the departure platform had been moved to another position half a mile away because of bomb damage. Paula walked beside me, smiling despite her emotion. She was carrying a package which she wanted to give me at the last minute. The platform was decorated with pennants and flags to salute the long line of men returning to the East. We stopped beside the first carriage of the Poznan train. I shoved my bulging sack inside, and turned back to catch a moment of unguarded sadness on Paula’s face.
“Don’t be sad, beloved. I love you so much.”
I stood for a long time, holding her hands, unable to think of anything else to say. I longed to hold her in my arms, but this was forbidden in public. People walked by, talking. The cement platform rang with the sound of the metaled boots of fellows in the same position as myself. But my eyes were glued to Paula: I was oblivious of everyone and everything else.
The hour of departure had almost arrived. A shiver ran through my body, and made my hands tremble. A stationmaster in a red cap was walking down the platform calling out the stops ahead: Poznan, Warsaw, Lublin, Lvov, Russia. These words crushed my sense of happiness. I braced myself for the whistle which would interrupt our last moment.
“Paula…”
The stationmaster continued his list of distant destinations.
“Paula… What would it have been without you?”
“Auf Wiedersehen, mein Lieber,” Paula whispered, in tears.
“Paula, I beg you… don’t cry… please… You know I’ll be back soon.”
“Ich weiss, mein Lieber, auf Morgen Guille.”
A section was tramping by on the other side of the tracks singing gaily:
“You see, Paula… even the song says so. Listen…”
I felt overwhelmed by the words. I would come back only for Paula… that’s what the song meant to say.
Then the whistle demolished my sense of joy. I pulled Paula to me and embraced her wildly.
“Einsteigen! Los! Los! Reisende einsteigen! Achtung! Passagiere einsteigen! Achtung! Achtung!”
“I love you, Paula. We’ll see each other soon. Don’t be sad. See how beautiful it is today. We can’t be sad.”
Paula was inconsolable, and I felt that I was going to burst into tears myself. I kissed her for the last time. The couplings of the carriages clashed; the train was beginning to move. I jumped onto the step of the carriage. Paula clung to my hand. The train slowly gathered speed. Many of the people standing on the platform were crying, and soldiers leaning halfway out the windows were still hanging on to someone’s hand, or kissing a child. Paula ran beside us as long as she could. Then she had to let go.