Page 81 of Hell to Pay
“And what was happening to Grandpa at that point?” Alix asked. “I always wanted to know, and he never told me.”
“Well, as it happens,” I said, “I have his letters here.” Iopened my purse and took the bundle out of my bag, extracting the next one in sequence. “Read it aloud, if you will. I can’t quite remember what they say, it’s been so long.”
“Another beer first, perhaps?” Matti asked. “Or a glass ofSchnapps?They’ve begun to sell aBirnenschnappshere that is rather fine. There is no fruit like the fruit of Bavaria, is there?”
“Pear Schnapps,” I said with delight. “Oh, I think so. I really do think so.”
Sebastian rose and said, “I think this is my cue.”
“I’ll help,” Ben said, “if I get some too.”
“And why not?” Matti said.
“Because,” Alix said, “he’s fifteen?”
Matti waved a hand. “A taste ofSchnappswon’t harm him.”
“And it’s totally illegal?” Alix said.
“No,” I said. “Unless Germany has changed more than I know, a boy is free to drink a glass ofSchnappsin the company of his family. Better, I’ve always thought, just as Alix had a small glass of wine at dinner along with the rest of us. How else does one learn responsibility, and that alcohol is something to be savored, not to gulp down until one becomes stupid with it?”
“Totally,” Ben said happily.
“Well, that’s one thought,” Sebastian said. “But OK. If you want to try it, we’ll get you a glass.”
Ben hated it, of course, and went back for aLimonade,a fizzy lemonade, and Matti finished hisSchnapps. But that was how we came to be sitting around in a sunny GermanBiergarten,surrounded by flowers and sipping the clear, sweet, fiery-strong spirit, as Alix read aloud and three generations learned anew of the horrors of war.
April 24, 1945
Dear Dad,
This is the first day I’ve been able to work on this letter. Sorry itcouldn’t be sooner—it’s been hard lying here, knowing how worried you and Mom must be and not being able to do anything about it. I guess Western Union will have shown up at your door, and I can’t imagine you enjoyed that. I hope you were relieved when you found out I was only wounded. You should be, because I’m going to be fine. A bullet to the shoulder, that’s all. Too bad it was my right arm! I’m dictating this to another guy. Larry got it in the leg and is trussed up like a chicken, but his arms work fine. Between us, we make one useful soldier.
After I finished that last letter to you, things got hot again. We were just west of Nuremberg when we saw our fiercest urban fighting yet, right here at what’s got to be nearly the end. The Germans were badly outnumbered, and as always, it made no sense for them to fight so hard in a battle they had to know they’d already lost. It seems, though, that Hitler ordered an “unconditional defense” of all German cities a couple weeks back. Easy for him to say! Supposedly he’s holed up in a bunker like a spider, safe and sound. I know we’re taught not to hate, but how do you not hate the guy when you see all this waste?
I guess they gave civilians weapons, too, and told them it was their duty to fight, because fight they did. It was supposed to be a sort of last stand, and I guess it was, because the town was full of German army units that had fallen back as we’d advanced, some thousands of men in all. Stragglers, looters, SS units, 12-year-old boys … a real mixed bag. The civilian authorities wanted to surrender from the start—shows you that they knew it was over—but the Army refused. I keep thinking of those SS officers stringing those guys up for daring to say fighting was hopeless. Apparently, the plan was to defend the town as hard as possible, then fall back to Nuremberg, but it turns out that Nuremberg was falling to our boys at the same time. The beating heart of Nazism is in American hands now. Happy thought! Now if we can only get Hitler, though nobody seems tobe sure where he’s hiding. I sure would hate to see him slip through the net. That’s one recognizable face, you’d think, but with his mustache and head shaved? Nobody’s ever called the guy a movie star. He’d probably look like a clerk—or a corporal. His ego’s likely too big to try it, though. At least I hope so.
2 P.M.
Here Larry and I are again. Writing’s hard work—it may take us a couple of days to get this off to you.
Anyway, the Germans in town didn’t have much artillery left—pretty hard to take it with you when you’re running away—but they had automatic weapons and plenty of ammunition. As far as I can tell, that’s the only thing this country is making anymore.
We got there to find a mess. Streetcars dragged off their tracks and blocking the roads, barriers made of logs and rubble—and there’s always plenty of rubble—and every bridge blown.
We got across those rivers any old how, and then it was house to house. Those civilians had antitank rocket launchers, if you can believe it. But not very good aim, fortunately. As for the troops, they hid behind their roadblocks and ambushed us. They mined the roads, too, and even rigged corpses with booby traps. Even after you’re dead, Hitler will use you. How are they going to clean these places up after all this? I guess that’s not part of Hitler’s equation. Do or die, and mostly, they’re dying.
I hear that over 5,000 troops surrendered to our boys by the end, though. Also that those civilians started tearing down the roadblocks themselves after it was clear the battle was lost—seems they don’t want to defend Germany to the last breath after all, and who can blame them? When they were ordered to turn in their weapons, out came not just the rifles and pistols and antitank guns, but the gasmasks and steel helmets, too. It’s got to be a relief to know they don’t need them anymore.
Strangest of all, a lot of them threw their swastika armbands and Nazi flags on the pile, I’m told, and even some framed pictures of Hitler. Probably hoping to avoid all those awkward questions. I haven’t met a single civilian yet who joined the Party. “Nicht Nazi,” they all tell you. “Nicht Nazi!” That Hitler must be some guy to have invaded all these countries without a soul backing him, huh?
April 25, 10 AM
Larry got tired yesterday, overdoing it with being my scribe, but we’re back now, ready to tell you the part you probably want to know about.
Yeah, this is where I got it. I guess the Captain’s written and told you I’ll be getting a medal (and a Purple Heart, though I never wanted that one!) I didn’t do anything any of the other guys wouldn’t have, though—it was all just chance. See, we located a patrol with those antitank launchers and I tried to call in air support, but they started blasting away before I could do it. I saw my chance to take them out before they got any more of our guys, and I took it. On the way back, I pretty much stumbled into a machine gun crew and was about to take them on when somebody shot at me. He missed and hit my rifle instead, which was a lucky break, except for the minor detail of not having a rifle anymore. I threw a grenade at that machine gun crew—I’d attracted too much attention, and they would’ve got me otherwise—and was running back to safety when that first guy got me again, at least I assume it was him. I heard later that it was some 10-year-old Hitler Youth with a pistol. Good thing he wasn’t a sniper. He'd have had better aim.
2 PM
