Warning: This chapter deals with some of the hardships faced by the German citizens following the war, including the death of a young girl.
It was a cold December afternoon. Newkirk had gone out to pick up a few items that the team needed and had invited Felix to join him. Now, the two of them were on their way home, just over a block from the bookstore.
During the night and early morning hours, a storm had deposited several inches of snow on the city, leaving travel slow and difficult. Though Newkirk was driving very carefully because of the road conditions, he was totally unprepared for what happened next. A boy, about Felix's age, suddenly darted out in front of the car. Newkirk swerved to miss the child, started to slide, then finally regained control and pulled to a stop near the curb.
An irate Newkirk got out of the car. "Are you crazy?" he yelled. "You could have been killed!"
Before the boy had a chance to respond, Felix had rushed from his side of the vehicle and cried the boy's name in recognition. "Johann!"
The clearly distraught boy glanced at Felix. "It's Minna!" he exclaimed. "She won't wake up. I think…I think she's dead."
Newkirk's irritation turned to concern and he stepped towards the boy. "Where?" When Felix started to follow, Newkirk told him, "You wait in the car."
At that, Felix shook his head. "Minna's a friend," he declared. "I'm going."
"All right," Newkirk relented. "But stay close."
Johann led them about halfway down the alley. He stopped and pointed at a figure lying near a stack of boxes. "There," he said.
Newkirk approached and examined the girl. Almost immediately, he realized that Johann's fears were justified.
In spite of the snow, Felix knelt on the ground beside the girl.
"Felix, don't," ordered Newkirk.
Felix ignored Newkirk and reached out and gently shook the girl, tears beginning to form in his eyes. "Please, Minna, open your eyes," he pleaded, speaking now in German. "You can't be dead. Please, wake up."
Newkirk reached down and placed a hand on Felix's shoulder in empathy. He was finding it hard to keep the tears from his own eyes. "I wish she could," he solemnly stated. "Come on. There's nothing we can do here. I'll need to contact the authorities."
"I'm not leaving her alone," insisted Felix, the tears streaming down his face.
Newkirk prepared to argue, then discovered he wouldn't have to. Someone had noticed them and a crowd began to gather. Among them were three American soldiers from the garrison. At their approach, Johann fled in the opposite direction.
The highest ranking one, a lieutenant, stepped up beside Newkirk. "She dead?" he asked.
Newkirk nodded. "Likely the cold, sir. Her clothing doesn't look to be that protective against the weather."
"Street kid?" the lieutenant guessed.
"Appears so. Both she and the lad who found her. He ran off when you arrived."
"Okay, we'll take over here," the lieutenant declared.
"Right," Then, Newkirk turned his attention to Felix, and said, "You heard him, Felix. They'll take care of her. It's time for us to leave."
Felix glanced up, gazing at first Newkirk and then the soldiers with his tear-filled eyes. "This is your fault, Allied butchers," he hissed. "Why don't you go home and leave us alone?"
As he was speaking, Felix had risen to his feet. At his final word, he ran off in the direction of the bookstore.
"Felix!" cried a startled Newkirk, preparing to follow.
"Cocky little Nazi, ain't he?" muttered one of the soldiers who had accompanied the lieutenant.
Newkirk turned back. "Felix is no Nazi," he snapped. "He's just a little German lad grieving for his friend."
After studying Newkirk a moment, the lieutenant drew him aside. "I thought you looked familiar," he told Newkirk. "You're one of Hogan's men, aren't you? And that boy is the street kid you took in."
"Right," agreed Newkirk. "And he's recently been adopted by a German couple who have clearance as part of our team."
"You're referring to the Vogels," the lieutenant guessed, making reference to Klink and Gertrude's protective cover names.
"That's right. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must be off. Felix is pretty upset. I'd like to catch up, if I can."
"Go ahead," the lieutenant consented.
Newkirk headed back to the car and the three soldiers prepared to remove the girl's body from the alley.
As he drove down the road and approached the bookstore, Newkirk noticed that Felix had just arrived and was headed inside. Newkirk pulled to a stop along the curb and prepared to follow.
- - -
Inside the bookstore, Carter was doing some work behind the counter. He glanced up as Felix entered. Right away, he sensed something was wrong. Coming out from behind the counter and heading towards Felix, Carter asked, "Felix, what's wrong?"
"Stay away from me," Felix snarled, rushing towards the stairs. "I don't need your help."
Concerned by Felix's behavior, a puzzled Carter thought he'd follow the boy upstairs in an effort to discover the cause. Newkirk's arrival, however, changed his mind.
Nearly out of breath, Newkirk glanced towards the stairway. "Felix go upstairs?" he wondered.
"Yeah. He seemed awfully upset," Carter answered. "You have any idea what's wrong with him?"
Newkirk nodded. "A dreadful experience." Then, he proceeded to explain how they'd found the young German girl dead from the cold weather and how the grieving Felix was blaming the occupying forces for the death of his friend.
"No wonder the kid's upset," stated Carter when Newkirk had finished explaining. "And that poor girl. How terrible to die like that--and so young."
- - -
Meanwhile, Felix had entered the Klink apartment upstairs, closing the door loudly behind him. Gertrude stepped in from the kitchen. "Felix, don't slam--" she began. Then, noticing his face, she hurried over and put her arms around the boy. "What's wrong, Liebchen?" As she spoke, she steered him towards the sofa and they both sat down.
"It's Minna," sobbed Felix, burying his face in her chest. "She's…she's dead."
"Your friend?" guessed Gertrude, sounding very sympathetic, as she recalled several times that Felix had mentioned an orphaned girl by that name.
"Ja," answered Felix. "Her real name was Wilhelmina, but we all called her Minna. Now, she's dead and it's their fault.
"Whose?" Gertrude wondered.
"The Allied invaders," spat Felix. "I hate them and wish they would all go home."
"That include your Uncle Andrew and Uncle Peter?" Gertrude's concern was increasing as she questioned him about Carter and Newkirk.
"Yes…no…I don't know," Felix sobbed even harder, as his uncertainty grew.
"Why don't you tell me what happened?" suggested Gertrude.
"Johann stopped Uncle Peter and me. He took us to the alley in the next block. She was just lying there so…so still. Her clothes didn't look warm enough and she was awfully thin."
Gertrude hugged Felix more tightly. If Carter and Newkirk hadn't taken the boy in and then she and Wilhelm adopted him, Felix might have suffered the same fate. "Johann your friend, too?"
"Ja, he was the one who found her first. Why did she have to die?"
Gertrude sadly shook her head. "I wish had the answer, but I don't," she admitted. "I'm so sorry, Felix…so very sorry." Still holding the sobbing boy close, Gertrude moved slightly back and forth in a rocking motion, hoping to silently provide what comfort she could. As she did so, the tears started to form in her own eyes. She knew from experience how it was to discover a friend dead under horrible circumstances. But her tears were not just for Anna, Felix and the girl who had died too young. She wept also for the rest of her people, fearing there would be more Minnas as they faced the hardships which lay ahead.
For several minutes, the two of them sat there, engulfed in their grief. Finally, Gertrude brushed her tears aside. "Why don't you lie down and rest for a while," she urged Felix. She felt Felix nod compliance as he started to pull away.
"All right," Felix conceded, rising slowly to his feet and heading for his room.
Gertrude watched him go. Then, her thoughts returned to the coming winter months and what she feared they meant for her people. She was still lost in thought, when Hogan and Klink entered some time later.
"Newkirk explained what happened," Klink stated, breaking into her thoughts. "How's Felix?"
"Still upset," Gertrude replied. "I sent him to his room to rest."
Realizing that Gertrude was also quite troubled by the incident, Klink placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "How about you?" Klink inquired, his concern obvious.
Gertrude managed a weak smile. "I'll be fine," she assured him.
Klink still wasn't convinced. "You sure?"
"Ja, Wilhelm…in time," she insisted.
"I think I'll look in on Felix," said Klink, as he left and headed towards Felix's room.
Once Klink had gone, Hogan stepped up beside Gertrude and duplicated Klink's earlier gesture by reaching out and placing a hand on her shoulder. "You regretting any of the assistance you gave us?"
Gertrude glanced up to make eye contact. "Nein," she answered, almost without hesitation. "Hitler's madness had to be stopped. Prolonging the inevitable would have only meant more deaths, perhaps brought even more animosity towards my people." She paused, frowned and sadly shook her head. "Anyway, I doubt it would have prevented Minna's death."
Hogan gently squeezed her shoulder as an act of reassurance. "It will get better someday," he declared. "You'll see."
"I hope so," she affirmed, a hint of desperation in both her voice and her eyes.