Through Love and War: Johann's War, #5

Through Love and War

Johann’s War Book 5

Copyright © James Farner 2017

James Farner’s Newsletter

Click HERE

...and get an email when my next book comes out. Also, you’ll receive the short story anthology from the first series, Made in Yorkshire – Between the Years, including stories like 1967 – A Friend from Liverpool and 1971 – Backpacking with the Past completely free of charge and found nowhere else.

Connect with me on

Facebook

Twitter

www.jamesfarnerauthor.com

CONTENTS

Erich Brandt September 1941

Johann Brandt September 1941 – October 1941

Erich Brandt October 1941

Johann Brandt October 1941 – November 1941

Erich Brandt November 1941 – January 1942

Johann Brandt January 1942

Erich Brandt

September 1941

1

8th September 1941

Erich Brandt joined Hans Frank, Reinhard Heydrich, and an array of other generals and commanders at the Wolf’s Lair, the Fuhrer Headquarters. Erich’s men had guarded the compound for many months, yet this was the first time Erich had appeared here personally. The two-and-a-half mile complex contained three enormous security zones ringed by over 50,000 landmines. It had taken mere months to build and soon after Hitler had come to inspect his forward eastern command post.

I am sorry for forcing Christian to remain outside this security zone. Reinhard Heydrich approached Erich outside one of the eleven bunkers that made up the central ring. Security is our top priority, and friends are not permitted, even our own friends.

Like always, Heydrich’s cold eyes betrayed no signs that he cared at all what Erich thought. Heydrich had continued to grow as one of Hitler’s favourites. His hair was perfectly gelled and styled. His uniform had not a single speck of dust. The silver buttons gleamed and he carried himself with a noble air.

I understand. Erich removed his black peaked SS cap to smooth his blonde hair over his head, then carefully set his cap back on. Not that he would have brought anything to the discussions. The direction of the war has nothing to do with him. He’s to carry out my orders and that’s it.

Well put. Reinhard seemed to look past him. I think the meeting will reconvene soon enough. We would not want to keep the Fuhrer waiting. By the way, when we are finished, I wish to speak to you again about the Jewish issue.

Erich nodded and tried to suppress a smile. The Jewish question had plagued the Nazi elite for too long. What could they do with millions of Jews throughout Europe? It would take forever to shoot them all, and it was too labour intensive to resettle them all in the Holy Land of Israel. Right now they were an afterthought locked in the ghettos of Europe.

The Fuhrer’s bunker was at the north side of the inner ring of the Wolf’s Lair hidden in the forests beyond. Hitler had chosen it personally because it kept the area shrouded in shadow and hidden from the air.  Today the Fuhrer’s bunker buzzed with activity. Erich picked out Hans Frank, the loathed administrator, hidden away in a corner chatting to his administrative colleagues.

Himmler himself had attended today’s meeting. His glasses highlighted the vindictiveness behind his eyes. Joseph Goebbels, the party’s propaganda chief, was never far from Hitler. The Fuhrer had yet to enter, but Goebbels hovered close to the door through which Hitler would enter.

Goebbels is no better than a dog. Heydrich said to Erich in a low voice. But he knows how to turn a phrase to be sure.

The SS had little time for the party’s administrators. They were nothing more than glorified secretaries vying for the Fuhrer’s attentions. In the conference room, dominated by a long table with maps of various parts of the Soviet Union, the SS and the Wehrmacht leaders all gravitated towards each other. Finally, the administrators in their suits and brown uniforms took up the last remaining space.

The hot weather meant they didn’t go down to the underground bunker but remained in the main conference room instead. Only weak light came through the windows, leaving small shadows lying on the conference table like the outlines of corpses.

The door moved and Adolf Hitler entered the room. He waved his hand in the traditional Nazi salute. Everyone returned it.

Heil Hitler, said Erich.

Hitler moved to the centre of the table, with a couple of generals on either side of him. The SS flanked them both. Erich was a mere four places from the man he idolised. There were to be no private conversations this time. The invasion of the Soviet Union had begun. Personal relationships had long been condemned to secondary importance.

Hitler didn’t smile as he began speaking. Gentlemen, I’ve received good news from the front. I have just received word from Field Marshal von Leeb that the city of Leningrad has been cut off from the rest of the Soviet Union. He waited for a ripple of congratulations and delight to circle the room. Soon the city will fall and with it one of the jewels of the Soviet Union. Stalin won’t be able to resist us much longer.

Hitler’s speech continued in the same vein. He invited nobody else to speak and no further suggestions. Erich didn’t complain. He loved nothing more than listening to what the Fuhrer had to say. Later, the other generals would only parrot the Fuhrer. How could anyone say a single bad word against the Fuhrer when all his predictions and ambitions had come to fruition?

Now, said Hitler after another ten minutes. Everyone who isn’t a part of the SS should leave. Quickly.

The generals and the administrators began to file out of the room. Erich smirked at Goebbels, who looked like a puppy kicked out of the house at Christmas time. He wouldn’t put it past that wretch to have his ear pressed against the door.

Gentlemen, it has come to my attention that we’re wasting far too many resources keeping these Jews alive. I want more from them. They’ve never worked for anyone but themselves and that’s unacceptable in my Germany. Himmler, what are you doing?

Himmler looked taken aback at being addressed by his last name by someone he considered to be a friend. Mein Fuhrer, the Jews are weak. They are –

I didn’t ask for excuses, Hitler raised his voice. This is not about you torturing them for no good reason. It’s a waste of time and resources. I want the Jews to give back, and the only way they’re going to do that is through you. Do you have the ability to do that? Do any of you? Hitler’s gaze swept the room. Erich shivered under it.

Himmler cleared his throat. Mein Fuhrer, it will be done. There will be more Jews deported for forced labour, and the SS will use Soviet prisoners for the same.

Hitler looked satisfied. There. That wasn’t such a difficult thing to accomplish. We all hate those Jew pigs, but we need to be pragmatic. We’re at war and every man of the Reich needs to fight communism and drive that sub-human scum all the way to Siberia. Dismissed.

Erich continued to watch the Fuhrer in awe. He had joined the party in 1919 and he had never flirted with anything but National Socialism. Hitler had evolved from an angry nationalist to a silver-tongued God whenever he appeared in public. Erich never tired of watching Hitler in action.

Hitler continued to talk and with every word Erich felt like he could break the back of the Soviet Union with one hand. Every grand gesture swelled his heart and made him feel more German than ever.

When the door finally closed on Hitler’s meeting the spell broke. None of the SS members spoke. Their leader had been humiliated and Himmler wasn’t above inflicting his own pain on someone else to make up for it. Heydrich was the first to turn on his heel after Himmler departed, out of respect. Erich soon joined him at his side as they left the Fuhrer’s bunker and came out into the open again.

They’re not exactly hanging around, are they? Erich observed.

Most of the men who attended the meeting had already climbed into cars and sped off out of the Wolf’s Lair. There were no social gatherings here. The Fuhrer spent most of his time here, close to Rastenburg in East Prussia. It was well-known amongst Hitler’s inner circle that he had no love of Berlin. He also had no love for pointless courtesies or champagne National Socialists.

The majority of those men you see are filled with fear. They are inefficient and have no clear ideas of their own. The Fuhrer welcomes new ideas, but these men are too terrified to even think. But enough of them. They are of no concern to me, or you for that matter.

Erich gulped. What did you want to talk about?

Heydrich sighed. The Fuhrer already mentioned it, but I think we need to delve into it further. The Jews are only going to be used as forced labourers for so long. That is efficient. It is for the good of the Reich. What of the women and the children?

Stuck in the ghettos, said Erich tentatively.

Precisely. Taking up our lebensraum. Taking away our food, not to mention the soldiers needed to manage them. It is a great burden on the state. That is why for some time I have been working on a solution to put an end to all this. A final solution.

A final solution, Erich repeated. Tell me more.

Heydrich tilted his head in recognition. It was the only sign of friendship Heydrich ever showed.

The extermination of all the Jews of Europe, Erich.

Johann Brandt

September 1941 – October 1941

2

Johann Brandt eyed the old woman sitting in her apartment with an intensity he hadn’t mustered in years. A distant relative of the Brandt family had surfaced in Warsaw. Robert Wesolowski brought her to Johann’s attention, but he didn’t know why. He knew even less about why Robert had practically forced him to visit this woman. Angela Herschell was so far removed from Johann’s family line she barely qualified.

Angela shook when she held a mug and threatened to topple over whenever she left the sunken armchair. Johann waited for her to speak at her slow, restrained pace. Frustration bubbled inside of him. Even the simplest of questions seemed to take five minutes to get a clear answer. Her white hair moved with even the slightest of breezes, as if it were nothing but a frayed handkerchief.

Johann wrinkled his nose against the smell of cooking cabbage and leaned back in the other sunken armchair.

Robert Wesolowski sent me here. Do you know him? Johann spoke as slowly as he could.

Angela thought for a moment and made a grunting sound as she nodded. The single chink of light coming from behind the heavy curtains made her look even frailer.

Why did he send me here? I didn’t even know this part of the family existed, or that we had anyone who was Polish.

Angela fumbled for her words. We are Bavarian. But some of us left Germany decades ago. We became Polish. I always knew that our family did this to the Polish people.

Johann narrowed his eyes. It wasn’t all of us. That was Erich and only Erich. Erich Brandt is the black sheep of the family. My parents never agreed with any of this. Johann tightened his hands around his mug of ersatz coffee. My mother came to hate Erich for what he became.

His words didn’t seem to affect Angela. Her frown persisted and she looked at Johann with disapproval. It bothered Johann. If she had only known what he had gone through. The bullet that had passed through his palm still irritated him, aching whenever he gripped something in it.

I don’t blame you, dear, said Angela. Mr. Wesolowski told me who you are and which side you are on. But I feel great shame for my family, even if we are only distant relatives. Angela puffed out a great whoosh of air, like a hot air balloon deflating. I wish I could do something about it.

And I too.

Angela eased herself out of her armchair. Her arms shook as she struggled to plant herself and summon the strength to get to her feet one more time. Johann wanted to jump out of his chair and help her, but she turned around and made it the last of the way on her own. She trudged at a snail’s pace out of the room. Johann could hear a rustling sound in her bedroom. He kept drinking his coffee like nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Angela Herschell had a clear Jewish name, but Robert had told him she had records that went all the way back to her great-grandfather showing they didn’t have a drop of Jewish blood in the family. It had been enough for the Nazis at the time. They had allowed her to continue living in her apartment in the Wola district. How long that would go on Johann didn’t want to think.

She didn’t come back into the room for fifteen minutes. This time she had a thin folder under her arm. When she sat down the folder almost toppled off her lap. Angela opened it up and revealed a small sheaf of yellowed papers.

I still have Jewish blood running in my veins, and so do you, said Angela. My records given to the Nazis were forged. We only stopped being Jewish when your grandmother decided to abandon her faith. That is why your mother never brought you up Jewish.

Johann was stunned. The Brandt family had Jewish blood in their veins. His father hadn’t fought for the Kaiser in the Great War; he had fought for the honour of Bavaria. Like many of his friends, they were Bavarians first and Germans second. They had grown up in the then, independent Kingdom of Bavaria until German unification in the late 19th century.

Johann opened his mouth and nothing came out. He didn’t know the first thing about Judaism, or what Jews even worshipped. The closest he came to Judaism was Oliver disappearing a few times a year to celebrate a holiday he didn’t understand.

Surprised, my dear? For the first time Angela allowed a small smile to escape her lips.

How can I be still Jewish?

Strictly speaking you are not Jewish, but the blood still runs in your veins. Should you ever wish to become Jewish you would have little trouble in re-establishing your faith. But I did not ask you to come here to convert you to the Jewish faith. I advise against it in these dark times. No, I called you here to tell you what this means for the family as a whole.

Johann gulped. That can’t be.

Your brother also has Jewish blood running through his veins. And there are not enough generations between him and his Jewish ancestors for it to not count. Now a wry smile populated Angela’s face. Your brother is a Jew. Your Nazi brother is a Jew. Your grandmother was the last Brandt who practiced, but that still makes you Jewish.

Johann couldn’t comprehend the significance of what Angela had just said. Never in his wildest dreams would he have suspected Erich to have any ties to Judaism. If this was true, and he could prove it, Erich would be finished. The Nazis wouldn’t just strip him of all rankings, they would likely throw him into one of Erich’s own ghettos as well. Johann was giddy just thinking about bringing Erich down for good. It would be a personal humiliation for the Nazi leadership.

So how do I do this?

Angela gestured to the papers on her lap. These are birth certificates and other records. I only have these copies, and I would not put much faith in reacquiring these records. You have one chance, Johann. If you lose these, or if Erich takes them from you, your family history is going to be lost forever.

Johann almost didn’t want to take the folder, knowing the significance of it. Angela pressed it into his hand with a smile. She moved with greater speed than she had before. Her own excitement frothed to the surface, as if she had waited for this moment for years.

Go, Johann. Do your family proud.

––––––––

Johann had to be careful to hide how excited he was. When he walked the streets he could still find himself bundled into the back of a Wehrmacht truck at any time. The Nazis were relentless and they’d only stepped up their discrimination since the invasion of the Soviet Union. Johann hid the folder under his coat and tried to stay off the main thoroughfares as much as he could.

He had moved out of the ghetto following Oliver’s escape. There wasn’t much reason for him to be there now that all his resistance comrades were dead. All he had in the world was Robert Wesolowski and his band of underworld criminals. What an awful thought.

Johann made his way back over the River Vistula towards the Praga district. This heavily-guarded district had once been a major hub for the resistance. The Nazis had reinforced their numbers and almost locked the entire district down. Johann had to duck into friendly shops on more than one occasion to avoid a passing patrol.

He only let his guard down when he came to the courtyard where Robert lived. Johann had never seen another living soul in this courtyard, other than Robert. He wondered whether anyone actually lived in the other abodes or whether they had fled during the initial German invasion.

Johann knocked on the door and let himself in. He heard a banging and Robert skidding out of the kitchen with his weapon raised.

Robert lowered the pistol when he saw Johann. "I could have shot you, Johann. Don’t do that