Walter Kempowski - All for Nothing

When darkness fell he crawled out. He had been stocking up on sleep, he said, and now he must think of saying goodbye.

They sat at the table, with a glow like fire on the horizon, and a rumbling that rose and fell again in the distance.

Then Katharina packed him some food; half a sausage, bread. She also brought herself to part with two packets of cigarettes and a chocolate bar.

Before climbing up on the windowsill, he stroked Katharina’s cheek briefly once with the back of his closed hand. But he didn’t say thank you. He took his cap off the Crouching Woman and sat on the windowsill. Would they ever meet again? Would their paths cross once more some day?

‘Good luck, Herr Hirsch,’ said Katharina, and the man swung himself out.

With relief, she watched him climbing down. But she also thought: what a pity.

Would he wave to her again? Yes, he waved from the path trodden in the snow. Where would events take him? Pastor Brahms would probably fix it somehow.

Katharina cleaned the washbasin, where black stubble still lingered, and flushed the lavatory. While she was about it she also disposed of the fingernail clippings that lay on the rim of the basin.

She tried stalking across the room as he had done, from one safe floorboard to another.

Herr Hirsch might have said thank you, she thought, it would hardly have tarnished his crown. She wouldn’t be telling Eberhard about this. Well, maybe later, after the war, when it was all over. ‘Just think what happened …’

She picked up the shaving brush that the man had used in two fingers and threw it away. Then she went to the door and locked it again. Just in case.

After that she turned the radio on. It was playing hit songs, and she tossed her boots aside and danced from one room to the other.

She had done it! She had brought off her daring venture, although no one would ever have thought her capable of it.

I’d give away all that I have

For one sweet, blissful night,

But I won’t let you take my heart

Until the mood is right.

That night she crawled into the cubbyhole. The paper wrapping of an opened chocolate bar lay on the mattress, so the man had helped himself.

She switched on the bedside lamp and muffled herself up in blankets. Tiles on the roof clattered, and a thin breath of cold air met her face. This must be how explorers felt in the eternal ice.

It broke out in the east that same night. A constant rumbling just beyond the horizon, and the sky lit up brightly. It wasn’t like the bombardment of Königsberg. Then, it had been possible to make out individual explosions far away in the distance. This was a never-ending roar that could be heard even if you covered your ears. A thousand cannon were being fired; no doubt about it, this was the attack.

On the radio, they were saying that theRed Army had embarked on its offensive. But none of those subhuman brutes from the east, said the commentator, would ever set foot on German soil, they could be sure of that. He also mentioned the Lord God. But surely a note of ugly laughter coming from somewhere was to be heard above or even within these words of comfort and reassurance, so calmly read over the radio. ‘Watch out, you German women and girls, now we’ll pay you back!’ cried a croaking voice, and there was more ugly laughter in the background. ‘We’ll break your pride!’ Then came the usual radio signal: Be true and honest all your days …

Then Merriment in theMorning , a programme of cheerful songs:

Don’t look here

Don’t look there,

Just look straight ahead!

Auntie came out of her room in her dressing gown. She knocked on Katharina’s door. Could Katharina hear all that rumbling and those explosions too?

‘Yes,’ said Katharina, she could hear them.

‘Get away first thing in the morning!’ Eberhard had said. And she told Auntie, ‘We’d probably better get moving.’

Auntie looked at her as she had never done before. Was it possible that she had woken from her world of dreams?

Auntie went downstairs to the hall and walked up and down. Open the doors or close them, that was the question. Take suitcases down? Jago went with her, up and down, sticking close to her side. She went out of the house, too, listened in case she had been wrong, and came back in again. Brought down her suitcases, all neatly labelled and tied up with string as well, put them in the middle of the hall and sat down on them. Now she was armed for anything that might happen.

Yes, they’d better get moving. But how, and when? Nothing was easy.

At last Katharina herself came downstairs, yawning and with her hair untidy, and they sat side by side, while the collection of cups in the little cupboard clinked. They’d have to pack now. She personally, said Auntie, had packed long ago.

Katharina said, ‘Not just yet. Why not wait and see first?’ After all, the main packing was done. It was all on the cart, Vladimir had seen to that. The question was whether to take some of those things off the cart again and replace them with others.

Vladimir was summoned. Was everything ready? And should they take this and that, what did he think?

Maybe they should drive the cart a few hundred metres to make sure nothing fell off?

Yes, it was all packed and stowed on the cart, covered with tarpaulin and fastened down with straps and ropes, but some items could still be exchanged for others. Perhaps Eberhard’s suits weren’t vitally important? After all, he had his uniform. But bed linen and underwear …

The maids too came running into the cold, dark hall, where they really had no business, and looked inquiringly at Auntie. Did she hear all that rumbling and crashing? Yes, she did, and so did Katharina. So the offensive had begun. Should the maids be glad of it? They drew up chairs and sat down with the two women. They all had their mouths slightly open so that they could hear better, and they sat together with their shoulders hunched. It was still early in the day. They might wait and see what happened. The Prussians weren’t about to shoot them.

Finally Peter also joined them, with a scarf round his neck because his tonsils were still swollen. Should he be dosed with Ems Salts or Formamint? Auntie still had a stock of eucalyptus pastilles, and she gave him some of those.

He was wondering whether to pack up his railway. The castle? The microscope? He had tucked his air pistol into his belt.

The fire on the hearth wouldn’t catch, however hard Peter blew the bellows to get fresh air to it.

The women sat together shivering and listening. Vera was praying quietly. Vladimir went out again to see if anything else needed fastening down more firmly.

‘We won’t start,’ said Auntie, ‘until we’re told to. Peter, tidy up your room, and you girls go back to the kitchen!’ Wouldn’t they need a permit?

‘Is anything wrong with you?’ Auntie asked Katharina, who was staring into space. ‘You look so different today! So young!’ No, there was nothing wrong with Katharina. She scratched her head. She was surprised by herself. A strange man had camped in her room. It had all happened so quickly, her adventure. Was it really over? Or would there be a sequel? Would some part of it stick to her?

To think it had been so easy.

It was all unreal and like a phantom, thought Katharina.

She stood at the window. Day was breaking, and there were all manner of things to be seen out there: people in the Settlement were standing in the street, listening, and telling one another about the thunder and lightning in the distance.

The road was busier now. Occasional motorbikes rattled past the Georgenhof — and there! A German Wehrmacht jeep raced along the snow-covered road. It skidded off the bend and fell down the slope to the Settlement. There was a general in it, and he died at once. Peter saw it happen through his father’s binoculars. He’d never seen a general before, with the red braid on his trousers, and now he was actually looking at a dead one. A moment ago the general had been shouting at his driver: go on, faster, drive faster! Imagine not being with his men today, of all days, and then the jeep had turned a somersault and he was lying flat and … dead?