Miller Caldwell: A Reluctant Spy

‘What exactly are you expecting of me, Herr Eicke?’

Now he spoke a little more warmly, ‘Troop movements in Scotland, Frau Richter. That would be interesting information for us. New and existing air bases too. We need their exact locations, please. Nothing else at present, I assure you. We will contact you when we need to.’ He clicked his heels and gave a little bow. ‘I am glad you see the need to remain loyal to the Fatherland. Rest assured that Renate and Karl will be treated fairly. As I said, you will hear from me or one of our agents abroad at the right time.’

Hilda was speechless. The wind had gone out of her sails. She stood aside to let him pass as he headed out of the lounge. He made for the front door with a parting shot.

‘Frau Richter, I have a very high regard for you and know you will not disappoint me.’

She opened her mouth to reply, but no words came out.

As the door closed firmly behind him, she sagged against the wall and groped for her handkerchief to dab her forehead once more. The German war machine had found her. She had become a cog in its grinding wheel. It had entrapped her. She bit her fist.

It took her no time to realise exactly what was required of her. She was to spy for Germany against Britain, her real homeland.

Guilt threatened to overwhelm her as she wrote the labels on her trunks. They stared back at her. Had she packed the right items, made the correct decisions? Was she right to leave Otto at a crucial time in his life?

She was past the point of no return. The mantelpiece was almost bare except for the photo of Willy with Otto as a small child playing on the beach at Sassnitz on the Baltic shore. She would leave that photograph in place for Otto’s sake. Photo albums brought back memories of the happy family she once knew. She took one and left the others in the cabinet. She still found it hard to accept Willy’s passing; the grief was still raw after such a short time. If only she could turn back time. She knew it could not happen, no matter how much she willed it.

After agonizing over her recent decisions, she realised she had to be strong and decisive. She was going to Scotland. That was the right decision, though only time would tell, of course. The photo album was crammed into her trunk, all except two photographs. The family seaside scene and one of her remained on the mantelpiece for Otto to remind him of his absent parents. The constant thought, which dominated her thinking however, was how she could spy against her homeland.

The Grampian Empress lay impressively in the Vopak Terminal Dock. Hilda felt a warm glow as she read the word Glasgow on the ship’s stern, beneath a red ensign flag. Her two trunks boarded the ship, and she accompanied them to ensure no prying eyes might inspect them out with her absence. Her anxious, suspicious mind was ever-present.

Otto had said goodbye to her the night before she was due to embark, and Karl and Renate spent the final afternoon with her. They took Herr Eicke’s warning seriously. Karl promised to attend some rallies and close his surgery to show he was attending. That might ease the situation, even although it irked him to do so. They parted with long, tearful hugs, knowing both of their futures were uncertain.

She was escorted to her cabin by a crewmember quick to pick up her accent when she spoke to him.

‘Thurs nae many Scottish women like you on board, ye ken,’ said Able Seaman Rory Tait.

‘There are not many Scottish women in Germany at all,’ Hilda replied.

He looked at her as if she was an endangered species. ‘There are only a few women on this trip. I guess families o’ Jews. They Jews, they are nae welcomed here, are they?’

‘You mean in Germany?’ she asked.

‘Aye.’

‘They are victims of the state,’ she told him as she grabbed a rail in the slight swell of the ship.

‘I ken. Worrying times.’

‘These are the fortunate few. They’re getting away – that’s why they are on board.’

Tait looked at her blankly. ‘Aye… suppose so.’

He took her hand luggage and eased the cases through a compartment door leading to a carpeted aisle.

‘Ladies always need their extra boxes for perfume an’ the like. Mind you, there will be nae ballroom dancing tonight, Miss,’ said Tait.

She saw he was looking at her black box. She laughed. ‘That’s not what you think it is. It’s my oboe.’

‘Oh, I see. Well, ye’ll hae nae use for that either. There’s nae orchestra on board,’ he said.

She chuckled. ‘I am not travelling to play in public.’

Tait looked at the box and shook his head. ‘If it has any sense, that oboe of yours should stay in its case on this voyage.’

‘Not keen on music, are you?’

‘Naw, not keen on rough seas. The barometer is low. It’s gonna be a rough crossing.’ He laid her cases at her cabin door and she gave him a collection of coins. He looked at them with distain.

‘I’m sorry, I’ve no shillings or pence.’

He did not reply. Perhaps it was a familiar predicament on his sailings. He tapped his forelock and was gone.

As Able Seaman Tait had said, even before the Grampian Empress left harbour a swell gently rocked the ship from side to side. After familiarising herself with her cosy cabin, Hilda wrapped herself in a warm blanket blazoned with the ship’s livery and made her way to the deck. Her hair caught the breeze and she felt its strands tangle. Nevertheless, she needed to see the land that meant so much to her drift away. Where Germany was heading was uncertain; she wondered whether she would go with it when the extent of its ambition became clear. In fact, would she ever return to Hamburg?

Church spires and cranes stood erect above the skyline, proud of their achievements. However, the church no longer had a strong voice, and the cranes rested before they began work in the morning, building more ships for the German navy. Flags flew everywhere, warm bright red and the sombre black swastika on its stark white background. Mixed feelings swept through her as she remembered. Her thoughts came in an ordered sequence; order had become a requirement, a demand even, during her recent life in Hamburg.

Germany had been her home since 1911 when as a recent language graduate of Aberdeen University, she had come there to brush up her German. She met Willy by chance at a music concert. That memory gave her a warm feeling. She smiled as she recalled the Kunsthalle near the Binnenalster pond in Hamburg where the concert took place. They listened to Grieg’s Piano Concerto. By the third movement, the Allegro Mercator, Willy was holding her hand.

Their honeymoon in Scotland two years later was another happy memory. She was proud to take her husband, Dr Willy Richter, around her relatives scattered around the country. Then back to Germany, and the fateful visit of Vera Caldwell, her cousin, in the summer of 1914, and the trials and strains of getting her home after the first guns had been sounded in that devastating war. Perhaps she might visit Vera again on this trip if she managed to get to Glasgow. Could history repeat itself, and find their roles reversed if there was another war? Had the lessons of the Great War not been learned?

The ship’s horn sounded and the thick restraining mooring ropes were manually released from the dockside bollards and fell freely into the dark water below. They were then hauled on board, slithering upwards to the deck by the vessel’s capstan winch drum. The Grampian Empress eased itself away from the quay, setting it free from an increasingly belligerent land and headed towards an island of peace and relative harmony.

In the dying light of autumn, the golden trees and flags of Hamburg waved goodbye. She gave a lingering smile to the city which had brought her happiness, love, culture and family. Fear and foreboding now overcame the land, but those treasured happier memories would always be with her.