Armageddon_ A Novel of Berlin - Leon Uris [271]
Sean O’Sullivan remembered another line of Germans a few years back whom he had ordered to tour a concentration camp. They, too, wept openly, but for reasons strangely removed.
Hanna Kirchner, weary from the burden of office under feuding masters, lay a wreath in the name of the city and said what was expected. “We will never forget this. It will give us the courage to survive.”
As the photographers recorded the scene, the sound of the engines over them continued in three-minute intervals.
Andrew Jackson Hansen returned to his car, feeling that he had passed a Rubicon. A strange kinship had been born and for the first time he realized that the people of Berlin would hold.
Sean returned from the ceremonies pale. He closed the door of his flat behind him and unbuttoned his blouse slowly, then saw Ernestine standing before the fireplace.
“Your maid let me in,” she said.
Sean nodded, hung up his blouse. The iron man who had played at God was still puzzled by his own mortal weakness.
“Do you know what happens to a man who worships hate as you do?” she asked.
“I love you, Ernestine,” Sean whispered, “and I hate myself for loving you.”
“Our only chance, Sean, is finding a great love that can overcome all else.”
“We’re just people, not gods,” he said. “We’re asking too much.”
“Look at me, Sean. I am a German woman. Nothing can change that. You are my man. Nothing can change that, either. Whatever will happen now will happen. I can never leave you.”
He held her and was overcome with a longing for peace, for the voices to be stilled. And for a moment, he was happy.
Chapter Twenty-two
MY DEAREST SISTER ERNESTINE:
So, you are in love! Knowing you, it must be serious. I wish I were there to hold your hands and dry your eyes when things go badly.
For me, the news is so sad. Colonel Smith has gotten his orders to transfer to Japan. The Americans seem to be sent everywhere in the world. I have grown to love their children as my own and I don’t know how I’ll be able to get along without them. Oh, Erna if I could only have my own children without the trouble of a man.
I cannot go back to the Brueckner home. They are barely making ends meet so I will try to find another American family to work in. Colonel and Mrs. Smith promise a high recommendation.
Wiesbaden is consumed with the Air Bridge and you know how flyers behave away from their airplanes. I rarely leave the house except once a week to see the cinema or to visit the Brueckners. The Americans have brought many new films over. Actually, they are old ones, but we could not see them during the Nazi days.
I close now. Be careful with your heart, Erna.
Your loving sister,
Hilde
The first months after her escape from Berlin, Hildegaard Falkenstein lived in an ennui. The Brueckners, an elderly couple who were dear friends of Uncle Ulrich, took her in with open arms; they had lost two sons in the war and their house was empty.
For a time they existed well. This was fortunate, for Hildegaard needed much care until she mended and was able to walk again in the sun. When she came to her senses she behaved like ages of harlots before her. Redemption became a fanatical cause. Her brush with near doom left a lasting mark.
Hildegaard became like a daughter to the Brueckners, changing her past ways to an unselfish giving of which she had never before been capable.
After a while the Amis requisitioned the Brueckner house, forcing her and the old couple to move up into the hills into cramped quarters with the rest of the Germans. Then Herr Brueckner became ill. Hildegaard realized that both Ernestine and her Uncle Ulrich had been contributing to her support beyond their means. For the first time she wanted to find work, but there was little she was trained to do.
She found a job as a shopgirl, but it was meager compensation. Later she became a waitress in a cafe on the Wilhelmstrasse