On August 25, the postwoman, Frau Niedermeyer, brought the earth-shattering news that the Allies had taken Paris. The radio announcer made no mention of it, instead barking the Reich’s determination to achieve victory. A gloom descended on the residents of Kaiser Wilhelm apartment block 2. Gretchen took a look at Oskar’s old school atlas to see how far it was from Paris to the German border. She tried to imagine the Westwall, the defensive structure west of the Rhine which Joseph Goebbels’ propaganda ministry had repeatedly said would stem the Allies’ advance – if all else failed.
The following day, Frau Niedermeyer delivered a letter to Hans at his allotment. He thanked her and tucked it into his shirt.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” she said, shifting her weight from one leg to the other, in impatient excitement.
He shook his head. “I’ll open it later.”
Frau Niedermeyer came across Gretchen on her way to the allotments. She told her about Hans’s letter. “It looks official.”
“He didn’t open it?”
“No. maybe he’ll tell you what’s in it.”
Hans showed the letter to Gretchen in his cabin. It was from the office of the Gauleiter of Berlin.
Subject: ‘Optimal Efficiency of Food Production for the Maintenance of our Fighting Forces’.
Kleingarten Tenant,
I am writing to you as you are the registered tenant of allotment F17__
at Ruhwald, Wilmersdorf______
In the ongoing battle of the Third Reich against the massed aggression of her enemies,
it is essential that every resource is used to its maximum capacity. The Schrebergärten of Berlin have a significant contribution to make by cultivating and growing food for our troops in order to support and maintain our fighting forces in the battlefield.
In order to step up production new standards have been devised and will be strictly enforced. The table overleaf shows the weight of vegetable matter that must be produced by each allotment depending on its size.
Please note that you will be obliged to meet these production targets. Failure to do so will result in the immediate termination of your rental agreement.
Heil Hitler
P. Joseph Goebbels, Dr.
Gauleiter, Berlin
She flipped the sheet over and checked the figures. The table showed various allotment sizes and figures for vegetable production.
“What size is this plot?” she said.
“It’s two hundred square meters, twenty-five meters by eight,” said Hans. “I will be required to produce five hundred kilograms of vegetables in two crops every year.”
“How difficult will that be?” she said.
Hans spread his hands, a look of despair on his face. “Take a look outside. How can they expect that level of production from a half-man like me? Even preparing the ground for September planting is more than I will be able to manage on my own.”
Gretchen thought hard about his implied question. Could she help him? If she did, would she have to leave the bakery, or could she do both? Her decision came quickly. She could attend the bakery in the morning, the allotment in the afternoon, and still leave time to look after Oskar.
“I’m willing to lend a hand,” she said.
His face broke into a broad smile. “I was hoping you might say that!”
“I can give you some of my time in the afternoons. I’m sure we can beat it into shape between us. But I’m not doing it for free.”
“Of course not. You shall share in any spare vegetables.”
“That’s all I ask.”
17
For weeks, Gretchen spent all her spare time on Hans’s allotment, harvesting what vegetables remained, digging over the plot, preparing the ground for planting. The work was backbreaking to start with, but after a couple of weeks, it became easier. Hans did what he could to help.
Oskar seemed aware of the changes, throwing miniature tantrums when she tried to get him to eat or sleep. He soon settled into the new routine, but there were some messy toileting issues that kept her busy well into the night.
Postwoman Niedermeyer continued to provide vital news from the war. In the first week of September she reported that Antwerp had fallen to the Allies after a fierce battle, giving them a working port, that would enable them to resupply their armies and continue their advance toward Germany from the west.
Gretchen had mixed feelings about the news. Hans saw the confusion in her eyes. “It’s good news, Gretchen,” he said. “We want the Allies to take France and move into Germany as quickly as possible.”
“I suppose you’re right.” She shuddered. “I dread to think what the Ivans will do to us if they are the ones who take Berlin.” Frau Niedermeyer had told them some hair-raising stories about how the Red Army troops treated the Polish population.
By the end of September, Gretchen’s gardening work was showing results. She looked over the allotment with pride. It hadn’t been easy, but she’d achieved her objective. The plot looked as good as any of its neighbors, everything shipshape and tidy, ready for planting.
Hans found a couple of fresh bottles of beer and they celebrated together. He turned on the radio. The announcer had exciting news about an Allied defeat in the Netherlands. A British paratrooper unit had been driven out of Arnhem where they had attempted to capture a vital bridge over the Rhine. If the enemy had succeeded in capturing and holding the bridge, they would have been able to bypass the Westwall, but they were defeated by SS Panzers. Over 6,000 enemy soldiers were taken captive. Martial music followed the broadcast. Hans swore colorfully and switched it off.
On September 25, the formation of the Volkssturm – the People’s Militia – under the command of Heinrich Himmler was announced on the radio. Every available male aged 16 to 60, not already engaged in Wehrmacht action, was invited to enlist as a volunteer in this new army. Upon hearing the broadcast, Anton told his
