Monika Schröder: The Dog in the Wood

“Fritz.”

“Nice to meet you, Fritz. What brings you here?” The blacksmith looked up quickly before he struck with the hammer again.

“I came to visit Konrad.”

“He lives right above us. You have to climb up the stairs.” The big man nodded in the direction of the back door. He turned around and cooled the horseshoe with a loud hissing sound in a bucket of cold water. Then, with a swaying gait he walked behind the horse and bent down to lift its hind leg.

At the end of the steep, rickety stairs was a wooden door. His knock was greeted by a “Come in.” Inside, two beds were pressed against opposite walls and a small desk and two chairs stood under the window. Gray winter light on the desk surface repeated the pattern of the white curtains. A woman was sitting on one chair holding a piece of cloth and a needle toward the light. “Hello! Konrad told me all about you.” Her accent was even more pronounced than Konrad’s, but her voice was pleasantly low. Konrad ushered Fritz into the corner of the room and asked him to sit down on the bed while he knelt down to pull out a suitcase.

“I’m going to leave you two alone,” Konrad’s mother said. “I must go look after the blacksmith’s wife. She’s not well.” She put her needlework in a small basket and wrapped her cardigan tighter around herself. “Nice meeting you.” Fritz got up to shake her hand for a good-bye. “I hope you’ll come back soon.” When he pressed her hand, Fritz noticed that her skin was cool and soft, unlike Mama’s hands that were always raspy and warm. This memory of Mama made Fritz swallow hard, but he managed to smile at Konrad’s mother and nod.

Fritz looked around the room. It was small and smelled damp. On a rack beside the window he saw socks and a woolen skirt put up to dry.

“In Danzig we used to have a nice big apartment, right in the center of town, with high ceilings and a big tile oven in each room. But we had to leave when the Russians came,” Konrad said.

“What’s in there?” Fritz pointed at the suitcase.

Konrad opened the lid. “The train book.” Konrad unwrapped the book from sheets of waxed paper. The pages were brown, and the hand-colored illustrations showed different types of trains.

“I used to have this one and this one as models,” Konrad said, pointing to two engines. Fritz looked at the pictures. He didn’t know anything about trains. Some of the trains were red, others blue.

“This is the E 19. The Reichsbahn had only four of these. One day my dad and I are going to take that train. It travels between Berlin and Munich and can speed up to 180 kilometers per hour.”

Fritz looked at the red engine and tried to think of a question he could ask. “What’s this?”

“That’s a photo of me and my dad.” Konrad held up a black-and-white photograph of a younger Konrad standing beside a handsome man in a suit who was embracing Konrad with his right arm. The man’s hand, resting on Konrad’s shoulder, was delicate for a man’s hand. Fritz couldn’t remember his own father’s hands.

“He looks very nice,” Fritz said.

“He is,” Konrad answered, looking down. ”When he comes back, he can work for the Reichsbahn again. My mother says he will find work anywhere the trains go. We can move to another city when we are back together.”

“Where is your dad?” Fritz asked.

“We don’t know exactly. The Red Cross is searching its lists for his name. He must be either a prisoner of war, or he is injured in a hospital. I am sure we will find out more soon.” Konrad sounded optimistic, but if his dad hadn’t returned from the war by now, he might be dead or starving in a prison camp. Fritz knew how terrible it felt to miss a parent.

“Do you have a letter from your dad?”

“No, but I am sure he soon will write.” Konrad nodded as if to confirm his optimism to himself. “What about your dad? You said you live with your grandmother. And where is your mother?” Konrad asked.

Fritz took a breath to tell Konrad his story.

“And then they closed the tarp, and the truck left. That’s the last time I saw her,” Fritz ended.

“Do you know where she is?” Konrad asked.

“No. We don’t know where she is,” Fritz replied. “My grandmother asked the mayor, but he had no information.”

“But if you didn’t have any weapons, it should come out soon that it was a mistake,” Konrad said.

“That’s what I thought, too. But other people have been arrested as well without any evidence. My sister heard that it happened to the baker in Revekow and to the woman who operated the laundry press.”

Konrad wrinkled his forehead, as if he were thinking about a really hard question.

“But if she was taken to a prison, wouldn’t there have been a trial first?” Konrad reasoned.

Fritz could not answer. It became too painful to talk about it. He was caught up in the image of Mama in a prison dress, her head shaved bald and her eyes large dark-circled caves. He swallowed.

“I don’t know,” Fritz said quietly. “I wish I could do something to find out where they are. The mayor will be no help!” He didn’t want to tell Konrad about his attempt to talk to the mayor. “My grandmother says we just have to wait. That’s what adults always say. First we waited for the Russians. When peace came, things would be better, they said. But everything only got worse. We had to leave our farm, and then they took my mother!” Fritz felt hot. He looked at Konrad, reading his face.

“But the Russians in Nirow might know something. That’s where they have their headquarters. You could go there,” Konrad said.

“That would be dangerous,” Fritz said. “And how would I get there anyway?”

“I saw the post bus passing through the village today. I’m sure that the mail comes from the city,” Konrad said. “You could take a ride with the post bus and then come back by foot.”

“That’s a very long walk,” Fritz said. “I wouldn’t make it in one day.”

“How about a bicycle?” Konrad suggested. “It would be cold, but as long as it doesn’t snow, you could get there by bicycle.”

“Do you have a bicycle?”

“The blacksmith has one. It’s standing in his shop, and he rarely ever uses it. Since he repaired his motorcycle, he drives that whenever he has gasoline,” Konrad said. “He lets me use his bicycle. I’m sure if I ask him I could get it for a day.”

Fritz wondered if Konrad really believed that he could ride the bicycle to Nirow. Or was Konrad trying to talk him into something?

“Maybe I could go on Friday. Then I would miss school for a day.” Fritz thought out loud. But he wouldn’t commit yet. He needed more time to think.

“I could cover at school for you. I could tell Fräulein Streblow you are not well and take your homework. Then she won’t contact your grandmother,” Konrad said. “You should do it.”

The plan was very tempting. “I’ll think about it,” Fritz said.

On his way home Fritz stopped at the pond. He put his backpack down and dug his cold hands deep in the pockets of his jacket. The gray, low winter sky reflected on the still water like a dark blanket. Lech had taught him how to skip a stone over water at the pond in Schwartz. Fritz imagined himself pedaling all the way to Nirow. Once he arrived, he would have to find the Russian headquarters and muster the courage to go in and demand to see someone with power. Tomorrow he would need to tell Konrad if he wanted to go or not. He felt that familiar ball of fear in the pit of his stomach, but Konrad had encouraged him. He thought Fritz could find out about Mama and Lech in Nirow. Fritz picked up a flat stone and skimmed it across the top of the pond. Lech used to say that if the stone bounced more than three times he could make a wish. The stone bounced four times, leaving a trail of ripples on the water’s surface. Fritz closed his eyes and made his wish: Let me find Mama and Lech in Nirow.