Powerful searchlights lit up the sky, picking out the RAF Mosquitos.
The same happened on the following day and night and again on the day and night after that.
“They mean to disrupt our sleep,” said Gretchen.
“I think they’ve succeeded,” said Inge.
No one had had much sleep for three nights. Apart from Oskar, who’d snored through it all, to the annoyance of the rest of them.
On March 17, the day before they had planned to join the vast flow of refugees heading west, Dora arrived on her bicycle with an overcoat for Inge.
Inge’s nose wrinkled at the sight of the garment.
Dora held the coat up for her to try it on. “You’ll need it when it gets cold at night.”
“Where did you get it?” said Inge. “It smells odd.”
Gretchen fingered the fabric. “It’s pure wool. Put it on.” She exchanged a quick glance with Dora.
Inge remained seated. She crossed her arms.
Dora said, “You won’t want to take Gretchen’s coat.”
“Gretchen can take this one,” said Inge.
“It’s too small for Gretchen. Put it on.” Dora had an edge to her voice.
Inge got to her feet and slipped the coat on. “It’s too big,” she said. It reached her ankles and was too big in the shoulders and chest.
“It’s a better fit than mine,” said Gretchen. “Take it off. I’ll shorten it for you.”
Inge took it off. As she did so, her fingers caught a hole in the chest. She shrieked. “That’s a bullet hole! Where did you get it?”
Dora said, “There’s a war on, girl. Be grateful for what you’re given and don’t ask awkward questions.”
At first light the next day, Hans gave them his map with the route clearly marked on it. Inge put on the overcoat and they stepped out to join the refugees. There was nothing but a few stragglers on the main road west.
“Where are they all?” said Martha.
“Perhaps they’re catching up on their sleep,” said Hans. “Either that or they’re expecting more bombs. We’ll wait a few hours.”
By midmorning, they had their answer, as hundreds of US bombers filled the western skies and the bombs began to rain down again. They took shelter.
The all-clear was sounded at 2:30 p.m. and everyone emerged into the sunlight. Fires burned all over the city, but Kaiser Wilhelm block 2 was still standing.
“We have to go,” said Martha. “We have to get out of the city before they kill us all.”
They fetched their suitcases from Hans’s apartment. They each gave Gretchen and Hans a last hug. Then they set off on foot, mingling with the thin crowd of refugees heading west.
44
They walked for an hour in a chill wind. With each step, the temperature dropped, until it was close to freezing. They carried on walking, and the crowd swelled. As the sun dipped toward the horizon, Inge’s pace slowed, and Martha shortened her stride to match. The temperature dropped some more. They passed the Olympic Stadium. Some of the refugees stopped and lit a fire. Darkness fell and Martha and Inge continued walking. Martha calculated that they had walked about three kilometers. At that rate it would take at least 56 hours to reach Luckenwalde. She doubted that Inge would survive 56 more hours in the cold even if there were no more bombing raids.
And then they heard the drone of distant aircraft. The sirens started. Martha looked around for shelter, but there wasn’t any.
“Come on,” said Inge, grabbing her hand.
They ran back the way they’d come, along with a crowd of others who had the same idea. When they arrived at the Olympic Stadium, Inge led Martha over a chain link fence that had been flattened by the stampede. “In here,” she said, ducking under the protection of the superstructure.
They weren’t alone. Hundreds of refugees were huddled around the vast stadium, seeking shelter from the bombs and from the icy wind.
The bombing started behind them, over the city. Wave after wave of planes passed overhead. The bombs came closer. Then one of the planes dropped from the sky and roared toward them. The anti-aircraft gun mounted at the corner of the stadium opened fire, but the plane kept coming, firing its machineguns into the crowds.
The refugees scattered.
The plane finished its run. Inge’s screams, mingled with everyone else’s, was drowned out by the pounding of the anti-aircraft gun.
Then the plane turned in the sky and came back.
This time it strafed along the edge of the stadium. Inge and Martha made themselves as small as they could. Martha threw her body over Inge’s and prayed.
When the raid was over, Martha asked Inge if she was hurt.
“I’ve hurt my ankle,” said Inge, her slight frame shivering all over.
Martha examined Inge’s ankle. It was nothing more serious than a sprain, but it was painful to walk on.
They surveyed the scene. Dead and injured refugees littered the grass all around the stadium. Martha tried – rather half-heartedly – to help the injured, but there was nothing she could do.
It took them a little over two hours to make it back to Gretchen and Hans’s block, Martha providing support for Inge’s injured ankle. Martha hammered on Gretchen’s door and she let them in. They were both exhausted and shivering from shock and the cold.
Gretchen put a cold cloth on Inge’s ankle. Then she put some damp wood on the fire. After Inge had gone to bed, Martha described their journey and the attack by the RAF plane.
“We got as far as the Olympic Stadium. When the planes attacked us with bullets, I knew it was hopeless. You should have seen the number of dead and injured, all innocent civilians brutally killed by the RAF.” Martha’s hands trembled and her voice shook as she spoke.
“But you survived. You weren’t injured. Couldn’t you have carried on?”
Martha shook her head. “We had no choice, Gretchen. It was too cold, and Inge
