Bergman

The huge truck rattled and shook as he drove on into the night. Karl squinted through the windshield, trying to see pass the falling snow. It had started as a few flurries, but now it was coming down pretty hard. The road was slick with a mixture of muddy slush and snow. The headlights reflecting off the snow wasn't helping, causing him to slow to almost a crawl. The inside of the cab was bitter cold, and Karl's hands felt frozen to the steering wheel. Even so, it was still was better than being in the back with Weber guarding the supplies.

The next refueling station was still fifteen miles away, and Karl was in a desperate need to de-fuel. He searched his brain to find a way to take his mind off his predicament, but found nothing. He thought about talking to the Leutnant, but one doesn't just strike up an idle conversation with an officer. Especially after embarrassing himself by making jokes within hearing distance of his commanding officer. Karl could still feel the tips of his ears burning just thinking about it.

"Any plans after the war?"

Karl jerked the wheel in surprise, almost running off the road before getting the truck under control.

"I think you will want to keep this thing between the ditches, Obergefreiter," Bergman said humorously.

"Ja, Leutnant," Karl replied.

A bright light and the sound rustling papers, drew Karl's attention. Glancing over he saw Bergman with a map and a flashlight. The sudden luminescence hampered his already questionable driving skills.

"Do you think that is wise?" inquired a nervous Karl.

Clicking off the flashlight, Bergman sighed. "I guess your right, Langenscheidt. I am just anxious to get home."

"We are just outside of Plauen. That is the halfway point. There is a supply depot there, and we will stop for gas. With your permission, of course."

"I never second guess an enlisted man," Bergman chuckled.

"That is wise, Leutnant," laughed Karl.

The mirth settled back into silence as they drove.

"So Obergefreiter, do you have any plans after the war?" Bergman said in an attempt to restart the conversation.

"Two months before I was drafted, I had gotten a letter from the Heidelberg University. They were interested in my joining their teaching staff. The carrot was I would be able to continue my education, tuition free."

"And the stick?"

Karl was silent, struggling to find the right words. Unsure what he should say, or if he could trust the man sitting next to him. Finally the oppressive silence won out, and Karl continued. "The University was very pro-Sozi. Many teachers and students were turned out due to their ethic backgrounds. Two professors disappeared without a trace. Speculation at the time was of Sozi involvement. There have also been numerous book burnings, the lost is something we can never replace. Then there are the rumors of forced sterilization at the health clinics. The whole thing is repugnant to me. I could not in good conscience take the position, but I was afraid of offending the governing staff. Of disappearing into the night. It was almost a relief when I was drafted."

"I can imagine. Sometimes the military is the only refuge a person has," Bergman replied quietly.

"You had a similar experience?"

"Somewhat," Bergman replied. "I am the only child of Rainer and Sophie Bergman. When I was four, my parents died in a boating accident. I was raised by my maternal grandparents, Armin and Helen Fischer. My grandfather ran the famous Flussufer Porcelain Company. Their Dresden Lace is second to none. Even Meissen is envious. I was groomed from the day I entered their home to take over the company some day. I was given a first class education, and was required to learn all aspects of the company's operation. From sweeping the factory floor, to working with the Artisans, to contracts and distribution, I have done it all."

"Sounds like a promising future. Many would be envious."

"Yes, I suppose. But in order to do business, you have to belong to the Sozi party. You can't get a permit, license or any other business activity unless you were a member in good standing. We weren't even allowed to hire who we wanted. They all had to belong to the party. My grandfather said to go long with them. Just get along. Joining didn't mean anything, it was just the way of things."

"You did not agree?"

"No, the only safe place to escape to was the military. I said it was my duty as a German, and in part that is true. But deep down the reason was I was afraid of what I would become. My grandfather is a very powerful man, and he was able to secure a commission for me. It was his influence which got me stationed at Stalag XII, and not the front. So we are not that different, Langenscheidt. When all is said and done, we want the same things. A long and happy life.

Langenschiedt suddenly jerked the steering wheel to the right, sending the vehicle into the aforementioned ditch.

"Obergefreiter have you lost your mind?" cried out a visibly shaken Bergman.

"I am sorry Herr Leutnant," said Langenschiedt. "I thought I saw someone in the middle of the road."

Bergman turned on the flashlight and did a brief survey of the area before turning it off. In that brief time, both Langenscheidt and Bergman saw the faces of twenty families walking along the road carrying children, and what was left of their earthly possessions. "The displaced."

"Pardon Leutnant?" replied a confused and flustered Langenscheidt.

"Some are countrymen who have been expelled from their homes in neighboring countries. Others are trying to stay a head of the approaching battles. My wife Hedda, wrote to me about them. Dresden is overflowing. Many sleep in the streets and alleys because there isn't enough room."

"But it is night. Why are they still walking in the dark?"

"I don't know. Maybe after you've walked for so long, the only thing that keeps you going is the thought that sanctuary is just around the next bend."

Both men got out of the cab and inspected the front axle. Langenscheidt wiggled as far under the front of the truck as he could, with Bergman holding the flashlight so he could see if there was any damage. Weber joined them, only to be sternly sent back to his previous post.

Nothing seems to be broken, Herr Leutnant," Langenscheidt said as he crawled back out and stood up. "We just need to get it out of the ditch. I think we are going to need help."

"Yes, unfortunately all we have to barter is our rations."

"Maybe we can make a deal of some kind?"

Bergman looked over at the faces staring at him in the darkness. Seeing two likely candidates, Bergman cautiously approached. The man appeared strong and in his forties. The younger, was a boy about sixteen. Behind them was what appeared to be the mother and two younger sisters. "I do not have much to pay you with, but if you help us get the truck out of the ditch, I will give you three packs of rations. It is all I can spare, as I will soon have more men to feed."

The hunger played across their face as the younger girls waited for their papa's response. "Alright, it is not much, but it is more than we have had in the last three days." Relief flooded the girls' faces as the father and brother joined Bergman in pushing the truck, while Langenscheidt put it in reverse and slowly backed onto the road.

The family followed closely behind Bergman as he made his way to the back of the truck. "Throw me down five rations, Weber," he called into the cave like canvas opening.

"But you said you could only spare three," said the father, perplexed at this turn of events.

"I am on my way home to my wife, and if I know Hedda, she will send me back to Stalag XIII with a bunch of home cooked goodies. So I will not be eating so much. So I have some extra that I can let you have."

"Thank you, Herr Leutnant," the man said clasping Bergman's hand. "Thank you. Thank you." He took the food packets and the family disappeared into the snowy night.

"That was very kind," replied Langenscheidt. "Especially considering all the rationing and shortages. I doubt your wife has that much to spare."

"It's alright. I need to lose a few pounds anyway," Bergman said, smiling at the spot where the family had been.

A/N:

The University of Heidelberg was very pro-Nazi. People lost their positions, students were removed from classes, many were deported. It was also heavily involved with forced sterilizations were carried out at the women's clinic and the psychiatric clinic, then directed by Carl Schneider. The University fully supported the Action T4 Euthanasia program. All due to the Nazi stance of racial purity.

Meissen: Famous Dresden porcelain company that was established in 1708, and is still in production.

Sozi: An abbreviated term used by the native Germans during this period for the Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiterpartei (National-Socialist German Workers' Party of Germany, aka Nazis.