Wayne viewed this procession from his vantage point outside of the Chancellery building. He did not want to be seen by them. He should keep moving, he decided. Wayne ran around the corner and away from where the Stormtrooper march was headed.
The cold air made Wayne shiver. It wasn’t a bitter cold, as Berlin often became during the long German winter, but cold enough for most all of its citizens to complain about. The weather was one thing that the Nazis could not control.
Five blocks from the Chancellery, a drunken SA Nazi on that night had his pistol aimed pointblank at a young man and his wife, who was clearly in the later stages of a pregnancy. The man foolhardily wore a Jewish Star of David on a necklace around his skinny neck. That night the man should have left his religious emblem at home.
“Jewish swine,” the drunken SA Nazi spoke. “The Reich will take care of your kind of vermin for good. Why, I’ll kill you now, swine, before your kind can breed anymore.” The intoxicated, brainwashed Nazi looked as if he could barely stand up straight. He did possess enough energy, though, to lift up his gun and point it at the pregnant woman.
Wayne turned the corner of the street and stopped at the sight in front of him.
The brown shirted Nazi turned and aimed his pistol in Wayne’s direction. Intermittently laughing hysterically and talking, he said, “Watch what I’m gonna do; watch me kill some Jews.
Wayne took a hold of the Nazi’s arm. The gun fired into the air.
The tipsy Stormtrooper was shocked at what Wayne had done, “Traitorous son-of-a-bitch. I have to report you for your… for your getting in the way of a Party member carrying out official business. May you hang high, you bastard.”
He tried to grab at Wayne’s neck, as if he would strangle him if he had the strength to. Wayne struck him hard in the face, knocking the man out.
“Thank you, thank you,” the Jewish man said as he hugged his crying wife.
“Glad to be of help,” Wayne responded.
“You have saved our lives. How can I ever thank you?”
“You just did.” Worried that the gunshot may have attracted attention, Wayne wanted to leave quickly. He thought it strange that the woman’s face seemed oddly familiar to him. She probably just had one of those faces.
The Jewish man gave Wayne a hearty handshake, and did not let go of his hand. “My name is Josef Hoffmann and this is my wife, Greta. Who are you?”
“Wayne Goldberg.” Wayne politely withdrew his hand.
“Wayne, if you ever need anything at all—”
The Jewish man’s name sure sounded familiar to Wayne. “Hoffmann… Hoffmann… Josef Hoffmann…” Wayne knew, of course, why his last name rang a bell. But where had he heard this man’s name recently? All of a sudden, it came to him. To make sure he was right, Wayne asked, “Your unborn child — have you chosen a name?
“Yes,” Josef replied. “If it is a boy, Josef Junior, and if it is a girl, Lisa.”
“I got to get out of here.” Wayne ran off.
Josef called out to Wayne, “Remember, Josef Hoffmann.”
Gestapo vehicles, the identifiable black jeeps with the words State Police etched on the sides in white, approached the area. The SS Nazis picked up Wayne’s trail.
The news of the Fuhrer’s death had been broadcast on radio. All over Germany, people were saddened and in shock at the awful news. Germany’s best hope for a future of employment and prosperity and a recovery from the depression seemed to disappear. The news also broadcast that foul play might have been involved in Hitler’s death, a good chance it being “the work of despicable Communists or Jews, or both working together to once more disrupt the future of Germany.”
One of the Gestapo vehicles pulled up alongside Josef Hoffmann. Inside the vehicle was SS Officer Werner, his face contorted with hate, as well as another SS man.
Josef Hoffmann secretly slipped off his necklace. He wasn’t looking for any more trouble that night.
Officer Werner eyed Hoffmann and his wife suspiciously. Nazis especially loathed pregnant Jewish women. It was believed, mistakenly, by the Nazis, that Jews were trying to have as many children as possible so that one day there would be more Jews in Germany than “pureblood Germans” and so that the Jews could infiltrate every business, factory, university, and so on that they didn’t already have their sneaky paws in. Werner shared this view.
“Have you seen a young man dressed as a servant go by?” Werner asked the couple.
“No,” Josef said.
Werner put his fact close to Josef’s face. “If you are not telling me the truth, you will end up in jail, or worse. Now, do you want to reconsider your answer?”
Hoffmann did not have to think about it, “No.”
Werner tried to get information out of Greta Hoffmann when he warned her, “A wife remaining silent when her husband does not tell the truth is a criminal offense.” Werner attempted to hit her in a vulnerable spot. He surveyed her expanded midsection and added, “One must think of the wellbeing of a child. It would be a pity if a child grew up without having its mother and father around. After all, who would raise it?” Werner said in a sadistic tone, “Who would feed it? Who would keep it safe from the elements if something unfortunate should happen to its mother and father?” He paused to let what he said sink in, then asked the very scared woman, “I will ask you once- have you seen a man dressed as a food servant go by?”
Mrs. Hoffmann was fearful as she stood there being put on the spot. She had often heard SS men make idle threats about all sorts of things. That was what they were good at. Though Werner did frighten her with his words, she was smart enough to know that it was a scare tactic to get her to talk. Greta would not rat on someone who had just saved her and her family’s life.
“No,” she said firmly.
SS Officer Werner gave the couple a thorough lookover, as if taking a mental picture. Abruptly, he ordered his driver, “Move it out.”
Wayne ran down a narrow street lined with apartment buildings, shops, and cafes. His eyes searching desperately for a place to hide. He checked doors of storefronts to see if one might be unlocked — maybe he could slip into one and hide out there.
It was clear to Wayne why Dr. Hoffmann had chosen him to go back in time; why she had wanted to get to know him. He had only a few minutes ago saved her life as well as her parent’s lives. Dr. Hoffmann must have known that one night in 1933 a man named Wayne Goldberg would save her parent’s lives. And it blew Wayne’s mind that it was himself. His head pounded with questions as he ran like a panic stricken mouse down the street. What if Lisa Hoffmann, unborn child, died tonight? Then I could not be here in Nazi Germany because a Dr. Lisa Hoffmann would never have invented a time machine. But how could I save Lisa Hoffmann if she was only an unborn child and didn’t even invent a time machine yet? Was that the reason she was keeping me in 1933 Germany so long?
Three Gestapo vehicles led by Werner turned onto Wilhelm Street. “That son-of-a-bitch is all mine,” he said.
Wayne saw the cars and knew exactly what the words State Police implied and knew it was himself they were after. Having no other place to go, Wayne dashed into a dark alley that was located behind the stores.
The back alley dead-ended into the back of an apartment building. The wall of the dwelling towered twelve stories above him. He could go no further. Wayne kicked himself for being so stupid. How could he let himself get cornered like that?
On the ground, besides trashcans too small for a person to fit into, was a large pile of flattened cardboard packing boxes. Wayne figured he was beat, but crawled anyway into the pile of boxes so that he was hidden.
A squad of six SS Nazis, led by SS Officer Werner, entered the dark alley, illuminating their way with flashlights. They began to search every nook and cranny of the alley. The SS men kicked over trashcans, and kicked though small mounds of scattered debris, as they neared Wayne’s hiding place.
This was it, Wayne thought — his final moments on Earth. He thought about his impending death. Would it hurt? Would there be a heaven? Could this be it- you live, you die- and that is it? He was sorry he hadn’t called
