Marion Kummerow - From the Ashes

With a weary heart he went to sleep, hoping he was taking the correct decision. Because once he defected, he’d never be able to return. Not to Berlin, and not to the Soviet Union. He’d never see any of his friends – and his parents, should they still be alive – again. A single tear rolled down his cheek. He wiped it away. Then he wrote a letter to Marlene, hoping the Americans would be able to give it to her.

The next morning, he woke well before dawn, giddy with anticipation, but also full of fear. He took great care with getting dressed, shaved and combed and then left everything the same way as every other day. When his going missing would inevitably be registered, should they think he’d left for the office and perhaps gotten involved in an accident.

He opened yesterday’s Pravda newspaper on the page of an article about the successful land reform as if he intended to continue reading after work and then left the apartment. Dawdling and taking extra precautions that nobody followed him, he arrived at the Brandenburg Gate two minutes early. As instructed, he followed the Charlottenburger Chaussee that the Nazis had included in their megalomaniac project “World Capital Germania” and renamed to East-West-Axis into the direction of the S-Bahn station Tiergarten.

Purposely walking slowly, he soon saw a platinum-blonde woman stepping out from behind some trees lining the Chaussee, walking directly toward him. His heart missed a beat or two, while he pretended not to notice her.

“Excuse me, mein Herr, could you please tell me how to get to Alexanderplatz?” A melodious voice trilled.

He recognized the singer Brunhilde von Sinnen and wondered whether this was a coincidence are whether she actually worked for the Americans. But since no other person was nearby, he answered with fear gnawing at his stomach, “Certainly, Fräulein von Sinnen, I’ll show you the way.”

“Come with me,” she said, linking her arm with his. She behaved as if they were on a romantic date and steered him toward the Tiergarten station. From there they took the train a few stations deep into the American sector and surfaced at the German Opera, where she waved down a taxi.

Fräulein von Sinnen told him to get inside before she turned around and left. His heart stopped. Now he was sure it was a trap. Hadn’t she been Orlovski’s paramour? Had the Russians promised her to return Feodor if she turned him in?

“Wait,” he called after her and quickly fumbled the envelope with Marlene’s name from his briefcase. “Can you please give this to your friend Fräulein Kupfer?”

She nodded and put the letter in her purse.

“Hop in. Fast,” the driver said with a thick American accent and Werner did just that. He was handed an American army cap and told to put it on.

“So, this is my escape?” he asked the driver, who turned toward him with a broad grin.

“Looks like it. Seems the bosses really want you. We’re going straight to Tempelhof.”

Tempelhof, the American airport. They’d decided to fly him out right away. Werner knew it wasn’t his to ask any more questions, so he contented himself with thanking the driver and watching the buildings fly by at breakneck speed.

With nothing else to occupy his mind he scrutinized his decision for the umpteenth time. Meeting with Fräulein von Sinnen had kindled his doubts. Would his defection validate Marlene’s judgement of him as a spineless coward? Should he have stayed and fought? Could he have changed a thing?

They arrived at the Tempelhof airport and a sentry stopped the car to ask for their credentials. The driver showed his identity card and the man quickly waved them through and they drove around the building directly onto the airfield.

Werner was impressed. The car stopped beside a plane already waiting on the field and he was relieved to recognize Dean Harris coming down the gangway.

“Welcome on American ground,” he greeted him. ““You’ll be flying with General Clay on his private plane to Wiesbaden airport. He’ll instruct you about the further procedure.”

“Thank you so much, Herr Kommandant,” Werner said and shook Harris’ hand. “I’ll be forever indebted to you.”

Then he walked up the gangway to join General Clay, whom he’d seen on several formal occasions in the SMAD, but had never actually talked to. Within minutes they were airborne, and Werner soon found out that Clay wasn’t the monster the Soviet’s painted him as, but was in fact an intelligent and friendly man.

RIAS radio was playing music when a ringing sounded. Marlene and Lotte both looked up from their homework, confused by the unfamiliar sound.

“What was that?” Marlene asked.

“I think the doorbell, they finally repaired it yesterday. I’ll go and have a look.” Lotte got up and opened the door. Moments later she stood in the room with Bruni in tow.

“Bruni! What brings you here?” Marlene almost choked. Bruni rarely came to visit.

“I have a letter for you.” Bruni smiled and produced an envelope with Marlene’s name on it from her purse.

“Since when do you deliver the mail? Doesn’t the Café de Paris pay you enough?” Marlene teased.

Bruni pursed her lips and held the letter between her red painted fingers. “Instead of making snappish remarks you should fall on your knees and kiss my feet for bringing this to you.”

Marlene squinted her eyes and recognized the handwriting on the envelope. “Oh, Bruni! Where did you get this?”

“This I can’t tell and I’m sorry for the delay, but I had to wait a few days before giving it to you.”

Marlene furrowed her brow. It wasn’t at all like Bruni to play the mysterious one. She yanked the letter from her friend’s hands, ripped it open and read what Werner had written.

My dearest Marlene,

You were right, I have been a despicable coward and many suffered because of my weakness, including you.

This is no excuse for my behavior, but if you knew the pressures I had to deal with, you might understand why I behaved as I did. In the end, you were the one who opened my eyes and showed me what it means to defend what you believe in.

I never meant to hurt you and my feelings for you were real. I spent that night with you to keep you out of your house, but I slept with you because I love you. My only regret is that I couldn’t share the truth with you, and I hope you will forgive me one day. We may never meet again, but rest assured that my thoughts will always be with you.

Love always,

Werner

Tears rolled down her cheeks and Lotte asked worriedly, “What’s wrong? Has something bad happened?”

Honestly, she didn’t know.

The radio relieved her from responding, because the RIAS commentator announced, “We just received the breaking news that Werner Böhm, chief editor of Radio Berlin has defected and is now speaking to us from the American zone.”

Marlene’s head snapped in the direction of the radio. “Did I hear this right? He defected?”

“I guess he did,” Bruni said with a smug smile.

“And you knew! You met him, didn’t you? Why didn’t you tell me?” Marlene accused her friend.

“Haven’t you sworn to never think of him again?”

If she could, Marlene would have strangled Bruni right there and then, but Lotte interrupted them. “Shush. Don’t you want to hear Böhm’s speech?”

Of course, they did. Glued to the radio, Marlene listened to his sonorous voice explaining the truth about the student leaders and their confessions. With each sentence she grew angrier at the depraved Soviet louts, but at the same time she felt so proud of Werner for finally coming around and speaking the truth.

She didn’t know what to think. She had called him a coward and a cruel puppet, had driven him away from her with her constant nagging. Now she regretted her accusations, the burden of guilt creeping into her bones for misjudging him so badly, for not having shown more patience and encouraged him to cut loose from the fetters of his masters.