stuff. Roasted barley mostly, but I’m told some brands even have ground-up acorns! Like we’ve been reduced to boars, rooting through the forest. What is it I heard you calling it the other day, Erich? ‘Nigger sweat’ or something?” He chuckled. “That sums it up pretty well, I’d say.”
Liesl set her cup down with an unnerving rattle, although only Kurt seemed to notice. When Mrs. Stuckart offered a refill, she shook her head.
Talk then turned to the war, as it always did. As was also customary, the women mostly stayed out of the conversation, speaking in asides to each other about other matters. Except for Liesl, who leaned forward and followed closely as the elder Stuckart led the way.
“Field Marshal Leeb has been removed from command of Army Group North,” he said. “The word just came down today.”
“Isn’t he the third one to lose his job?” Erich asked.
“All since the first of December. But Kuchler has taken his place. A good commander. He’ll buck them up for sure. It may take some doing, maybe even a little more juggling of commanders, but the Fuhrer will have us back on the right track in the east. By the time the spring thaw is here, we’ll be ready to go back on the offensive. Winter in wartime is always about waiting things out, anyway.”
“Did you hear about that poor man, von Reichenau?” Mrs. Stuckart asked, in a rare interjection.
“Old news, dear,” Stuckart said, indulging her with a smile. “He was appointed weeks ago. The new commander of Army Group South.”
“Yes, I know. But he just dropped dead of a heart attack. Right there at his headquarters.”
That wiped the smile off her husband’s face.
“You’re certain of this?”
“Lotte heard it from his wife only this morning. And he was so young, too, as these things go. A terrible tragedy.”
Everyone was still digesting that bit of news when Liesl spoke up.
“I am afraid that the war in the east is lost,” she announced. “I have heard that almost anyone who is realistic now believes there is virtually no way that we can win.”
The response was shocked silence. Kurt stared at his saucer. The fire popped, and a log dropped with a thud and a shower of sparks.
Mrs. Stuckart glanced uneasily around the table, as if gauging how much the comment had upset everyone. She dabbed her mouth gingerly with a napkin. Even the glib Erich managed only a cough.
Kurt felt compelled to speak up, to somehow try to limit the damage. It was bad enough that the Interior Ministry’s second in command was sitting right there. He, at least, was probably used to hearing such candor from others in government during guarded moments, so maybe he would overlook it as a mistake of youth. But you never knew when someone else-even one of Erich’s sisters, for example-might feel compelled to pass along a defeatist remark to the wrong kind of policeman.
Everyone there had probably heard the story of Karlrobert Kreiten, the talented young concert pianist who had remarked to a friend of his mother’s that Hitler was “a madman” for ordering the invasion of the Soviet Union. His mother’s friend turned him in the next day and he was now awaiting trial in Plotzensee Prison.
“It is easy to be discouraged these days,” Kurt said haltingly, “but we are all doing what we can. Liesl does volunteer work for wounded soldiers, you know. She collects cloth for bandages, and reads to them in hospitals in Berlin. The very ones who have been serving on the eastern front. I can see how that kind of experience, day after day wouldn’t leave you feeling very hopeful.”
No response, not even from Liesl. Kurt sensed his fruitless words drifting up through the chimney and off into the night sky.
Stuckart then rose from the table, his big frame suddenly menacing. He stepped over to the fireplace to toss on another log, levering it into place with an iron poker. Then he addressed Kurt without looking back toward the table.
“Speaking of the front, young Kurt. Erich will soon be turning eighteen and reporting for officer’s training. What about you?”
“Of course. As soon as I am eighteen.”
“When is your birthday?”
Liesl took his hand beneath the table and squeezed it.
“Late October, but I am still sixteen. I skipped a grade to enter university early.”
“Next October is a long way off. By then the conscription laws may have changed. You may be eligible earlier than you think, especially if, as your friend believes, we continue to fare so poorly in battle. As that date approaches, I urge you to try and be as judicious as possible in what you say out in public. You should also take care in the company you keep. Because when the time comes for your father to secure a favorable appointment on your behalf, all sorts of things will be weighed and measured.”
Kurt knew at that moment that if he did not somehow speak up on her behalf she would be deeply disappointed. But with almost everyone at the table seemingly imploring him to be on his guard, he was unable to come up with the right words. Instead, he simply nodded and said evenly, “Yes, sir.”
Liesl gently released his hand and looked down at her lap.
“More coffee for you, my dear?” Mrs. Stuckart asked.
She shook her head, saying nothing.
A few moments later, Erich cleared his throat and began talking about his foolhardy boat trip. Within seconds both his parents were chiding him companionably, as if nothing untoward had occurred, and not long afterward they all rose and placed their napkins on the table. Erich offered to drive Kurt and Liesl home.
Because of the blackout, the car’s headlights were covered in dark felt with tiny slits, meaning even the reckless Erich had to go slowly. To make matters worse, the roads were icing, and they poked along at an agonizing pace in awkward silence. After dropping them off at Liesl’s house, Erich sped away, the car fishtailing so much that he nearly struck a tree.
For a moment neither Liesl nor Kurt made a move. They just stood on the sidewalk, holding their skis, as if trying to fathom what came next.
“Well, I suppose you tried,” she said finally, wearily. “But I can’t say that you tried very hard.”
“And you,” he said, suddenly aggrieved, “tried much
“It was a harmless remark. And only an opinion.”
“Nothing is harmless to these people if they don’t agree with it. What you said may be true, but it won’t do your cause much good if people in power decide to silence you.”
“It
“Of course I share your cause. Of course! I only want you to be more careful.”
“Your kind of careful is the way of cowards.”
“That’s not true!”
“Yes, it is. Why, you can’t even speak the truth to me.”
“That is simply not so!”
“Then why didn’t you tell me Traudl was engaged? The single biggest event in your family, maybe all year, but I don’t hear about it because, what? You think I’ll disapprove? Erich was right, wasn’t he?”
His silence told her all she needed to know.
“You are too careful in this way, Kurt. Too busy hiding pieces of yourself because you think it will please me, or worse, please some awful person in a red armband. You think you are doing it to build a safe foundation for your future, but can’t you see that the time for real action is now-or there might not even be a future?”
This kind of talk scared him even more, but he tried not to show it. So they went on in this fashion several minutes longer, fighting their way to a stalemate, until gradually their remarks began to lose some of their heat. But just as Kurt started to think they had weathered the storm, he made what would turn out to be a fatal error. Concerned that her parents might overhear them, he glanced nervously toward the windows of the Folkertses’ house, and Liesl saw the worry in his eyes.
