48
Gretchen searched the remains of the Kaiser Wilhelm blocks. She found no sign of Oskar anywhere. Frantic with worry, she made her way back along Bolivarallee poking about in the rubble, called his name…
Hans’s initial progress was slow. The grass had been churned into mud by the military traffic and his wheels spun. By the time he reached the paved road, the Kübelwagen and Hans were covered in mud.
As he sped down the road toward the city center, he checked the fuel gauge. He had half a tank. Probably not enough for the whole journey, but he hoped it would get them out of the city.
His iron leg was fine for accelerating, but braking was difficult. The center of the city was a wilderness of rubble, the streets only recognizable by the skeletons of high-rise buildings standing in rows, like silent, charred sentries. Weaving his way around the obstacles, he drew close to the Brandenburg Gate, still standing, defiant, surrounded by smoldering ruins. Huge fires burning on both sides of Charlottenburger Chaussee made it impassable. He had to take a detour south of the Tiergarten, but once he reached Neue Kantstrasse the going got easier.
He slammed the brakes on outside allotment F17. Inge and Martha emerged. The worried frowns on their faces transformed to delighted smiles when they saw who was driving the Kübelwagen.
“All aboard,” he shouted. “Next stop Luckenwalde.”
Martha and Inge climbed aboard.
“Where’s Gretchen?”
“She went looking for Oskar,” said Inge.
“Which way did she go?”
“Back toward the apartment blocks,” said Martha.
Hans wrenched the wheel around and set off down Bolivarallee. He drove slowly, watching out for Gretchen.
“There she is,” cried Inge, pointing at the remains of a block of flats.
Hans brought the Kübelwagen to a screeching halt.
“Come on, Gretchen,” he shouted. “It’s time to leave.”
Gretchen shook her head emphatically. “I’ve lost Oskar. I’m not leaving without him.”
Leaving the engine running, he climbed out and grabbed Gretchen by the elbows.
“You have to come with us, Gretchen. This is your one and only chance to make it out of the horrible war alive.”
“I can’t leave Oskar.” There were tears in her eyes.
“There’s nothing left of Oskar, Gretchen.” Hans’s voice cracked with anxiety. “He has no idea what day it is. Does he even know who you are?”
She shook her head. “He still has good days. Not many, but I can’t abandon him.”
Hans tightened his grip on her arms. “Listen to me, Gretchen. You have to leave him. You have to save yourself and come with me. The war will be over soon. We will be able to make a life together, you and me.”
“What would we live on?”
“I can work. There are lots of things I could do.”
“I’m sure you’re right, Hans, but Oskar is my husband. I have to honor my wedding vows. Now go before it’s too late.”
Hans hesitated. What more could he say? This woman had a beautiful soul. He would willingly sacrifice his own life to save her, but she wasn’t going to change her mind.
He pulled her to him and kissed her on the lips. She kissed him back.
“I’ll come back for you. As soon as Inge and Martha are safe, I’ll come back.”
It wasn’t a lie, exactly, but he knew it could be an impossible promise to keep.
She touched his face. “Please don’t, Hans. Don’t come back. Stay safe and live a full life.”
He turned, climbed aboard the Kübelwagen and headed south at full speed, with Inge and Martha holding on for dear life in the back.
49
Inge sat with her suitcase between her knees, clinging to Martha’s arm. They rocketed headlong through empty streets, the crazy motion of the Kübelwagen throwing them from side to side.
“Hold on tight back there!” Hans shouted.
Inge thought he seemed to be enjoying himself.
“Slow down. You’re going to get us all killed!” Martha replied at the top of her voice.
The Kübelwagen braked violently, then resumed its journey at a slower rate.
Inge looked around. The signposts told her the Olympic Stadium and Potsdam were both straight ahead, but a fire tender tackling a huge blaze blocked their passage. Hans turned right, then left again down a narrow street strewn with fallen masonry and rubble populated by foraging citizens. He slowed right down to weave his way around the obstacles. The sun was high in the sky but shrouded by a layer of smoke that covered the entire city. Inge shivered from the cold and Martha wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
Inge looked into Martha’s face for reassurance and caught a glimpse of something coming toward them from behind.
Hans saw it too in his rear-view mirror. “Hold on tight!” he shouted.
The Kübelwagen accelerated again, lurching forward.
Inge looked back and saw a grey-green motorcycle bearing down on them. She watched in horror as the motorbike drew closer and closer. Then the driver fired at them with a pistol. Martha screamed and ducked her head. Inge did the same.
The motorbike drew level with them. The driver signaled with his gun that Hans should pull over. Hans accelerated again.
Again, the motorbike drew level. “Pull over!” shouted the driver, pointing his gun at Hans.
Hans threw the Kübelwagen to the left. The motorbike wobbled, then fell back and followed them for a few hundred meters. More bullets whistled past. Inge and Martha kept their heads down.
As they pulled onto a wider road, the motorbike rider drew alongside again, and again he pointed his gun at Hans. This time he fired – twice. Hans’s reaction was to wrench the steering wheel to the left again. Kübelwagen and motorbike came together with a screeching of tearing metal on metal. The rider was catapulted into the air. Inge screamed again and Martha screamed with her. The Kübelwagen went up on two wheels before landing back on all fours with a thump. Inge looked for the motorbike, but it had disappeared.
A signpost indicated that Potsdam was 25 kilometers to the left at the next junction. Hans turned left before braking
