“There are no longer any reserved occupations,” said the sergeant sitting at a desk behind the recruiting soldier. The soldier completed the paperwork and told the undertaker where to assemble for transport to the Olympic park for Volkssturm training.
When Herr Tannhäuser got home and told Anton what had happened, the youngster was disgusted. First his troop leader had been conscripted, and now his father.
He pouted. “When will I be called?”
“You’re too young,” said his father.
“I can fight,” said Anton. “I can fire a gun. How difficult can it be?”
His mother clicked her tongue. “Be careful what you wish for, Anton. The enemy has guns too, and they fire back.”
Anton stamped his foot. “It’s so unfair. Ludwig’s a wimp. He’s great at marching up and down, but he’ll be hopeless with a gun in his hand. And I’ve never seen Father fire a gun in his life.”
“Your brave father served in the last war,” said his mother, her voice trembling.
Tannhäuser was transported, together with a truckload of elderly citizens, and teenagers to the Olympic park for training. Getting in and out of the truck was a challenge for the undertaker.
After four days of training in the use of the Panzerfaust anti-tank weapon, the whole troop was given two days’ leave.
When his father arrived in the house, Anton quickly made a nuisance of himself quizzing his father about his training. An irritated Tannhäuser said he was too tired to answer his boy’s questions.
Anton stormed out and called to Ludwig’s house. Ludwig opened the door, wearing his Hitler Youth uniform.
“Where’s your Volkssturm uniform?” said Anton.
“It’s just a Wehrmacht uniform,” said Ludwig, “but we have this.” He showed Anton the red/black/red Volkssturm armband.
Anton tried it on. It fitted his arm perfectly.
He fired his questions at Ludwig. The troop leader answered as well as he could, but for every answer, Anton came up with more questions, pressing for every detail about the anti-tank weapon.
Finally, Ludwig’s mother called him to his supper. Anton had to leave. “What do I have to do to join this Volkssturm?” he said, on his way out the door.
“Do nothing,” Ludwig replied. “Your chance will come, I promise you.”
Anton ran all the way home in a state of great excitement. His chance would come!
After their two days’ leave, the new recruits were transported to the eastern defenses overlooking the Oder River.
As one of the few with military training, Tannhäuser was directed to a heavy machinegun station surrounded by sandbags. A teenager dressed in an oversized uniform was assigned to help with loading the ammunition.
“What’s your name, boy, and how old are you?” asked the undertaker.
“Ludwig. I’m sixteen.”
“That’s Ludwig and I’m sixteen, Herr Gruppenführer.”
“Yes, Herr Gruppenführer. Sorry, Herr Gruppenführer.”
Tannhäuser knew who he was, he’d seen him leading Anton’s Hitler Youth troop. It was unlikely that Ludwig was unaware who Tannhäuser was, but the youngster said nothing.
Tannhäuser surveyed the scene. All looked quiet, a serene rural landscape. They were on a rise overlooking lush fields and below them, the river, glistening in the sunshine.
On the opposite side of the river a dense forest with flocks of crows circling in the mist at the tops of the tallest trees.
“Where’s the enemy?” said Ludwig. “I don’t see them.”
“They’ll be along soon enough,” said the old man. “I expect they’re hiding in the forest. Keep your eyes on the tree line. We don’t want them to come upon us by surprise.”
“Yes, Herr Gruppenführer,” said Ludwig.
20
The first Gretchen knew about the Volkssturm conscription was when she turned up for work only to find the bakery locked and no sign of Herr Korn. There was no line of women waiting at the door, either. She made enquiries at a haberdashery shop nearby, and they told her that Herr Korn had been conscripted.
“That’s madness,” said Gretchen. “The people need bread.”
She returned to the apartment and spent the morning with Oskar. In the early afternoon she went looking for Hans in his apartment on the ground floor, but there was no answer to her knock on his door. It seemed unlikely, but could they be drafting one-legged old soldiers into the army? Without Hans’s vegetables, they would starve.
Martha Engels called in a state of high excitement. “I had a visit from the postwoman.”
“You got a letter from the Wehrmacht?”
“I got a letter from Paul. He’s alive and well in a prisoner of war camp in France.”
“That’s really good news,” said Gretchen. “Does he say when he might be released?”
“No, but I’m sure it won’t be long, now. The war’s nearly over.”
When Martha asked if Gretchen had any bread, Gretchen told her that the bakery was closed. “Herr Korn has been conscripted.”
“What are we supposed to eat?” said Martha.
Dora called looking for food for Inge, but Gretchen had nothing to give her. She explained that the master baker had been conscripted.
“That’s madness, people have to eat,” said Dora.
“That’s what I said,” Gretchen replied.
“Do you have enough food for Oskar and yourself?”
Gretchen shook her head. “My larder is empty.”
Dora gave her two potatoes.
“I’ll contact the Gauleiter’s office and tell them we need our master baker. Perhaps they’ll listen,” said Dora.
The following day Hans was back in his apartment, looking grim. “I went to the allotment, but I couldn’t get into the cabin. The lock has been changed.”
“I’m sorry,” said Gretchen.
“That’s not the worst of it,” said Hans. “The neighbors tell me that Jungblutt has taken it for his personal use.”
Winter started late that year – it was November before Gretchen had to take her overcoat from the wardrobe – but the temperature fell quickly after that.
Frau Niedermeyer continued her rounds on her bicycle, wearing heavy mittens. With little incoming mail, she spent most of her time spreading news and rumors. People welcomed her information about the progress of the war; the news on the radio was increasingly unreliable.
Gretchen was shocked by how the war had aged the postwoman, turning her hair grey. Frau Niedermeyer had always taken pride in
