A/N: well, two days for the next update is certainly better than nearly two years, right? :-)
It was actually both by choice and out of necessity that Oskar Danzig was still alive.
Coming out of the army in October, Oskar had agreed to stay on for the fall season, but had insisted he would not perform during the holiday season that year. "Family business," he had claimed. And no matter how much they offered their star, he was not to be persuaded.
Instead, he registered with a rivalling acting agency under his own name, and involved himself in the carousel of auditions going on for the many Christmas plays planned for the holiday season. And it was thus that he discovered the kind of life the majority of the actors live.
Refusing to link the name 'Oskar Danzig' with his own, he had little to recommend himself but his participation in school plays. He couldn't blame the many directors he auditioned for to be skeptical – but it was utterly frustrating to find himself turned down over and over again. And more so with those directors he knew to have been begging on their knees for Oskar Danzig to come and perform with them. Sometimes he just wanted to scream at them. "You fools! I'm the Oskar Danzig you're all drooling about! If you like his acting so much, how come you don't like mine?"
Not that he did it of course. It'd be the quickest way of blowing all Karl Langenscheidt's chances for a normal, decent life one day. For Oskar Danzig was bound to fade away into oblivion once he'd quit performing for good. But Karl Langenscheidt had an entire life to live. As well as family members to consider – family members he was sure would be horrified if they'd ever learn about his double life as a famous female impersonator...
But in the end, the director of a small children's theater decided to give this promising rookie a chance, and hired him as the assistant bad guy in their Christmas play. It meant performing three shows a day (four on the holidays and in the weekends) for a salary that was barely enough to cover basic groceries, but unlike other beginning actors, Karl was fortunate enough to have a fat bank account to compensate for that.
The experience however was certainly worth it. Children proved to be an inspiring and grateful audience. And the young public having been invited to openly comment on what was going on at the stage made it all a very interactive adventure, thus honing his improvisation skills, for no two performances were the same. Sometimes you came backstage limp with laughter, while at other times you found yourself desperately squirming your way back to the basic plotline.
The extremely busy Christmas season was always followed by a rather slack month of January, when every ensemble was rehearsing for their spring season performance. As a newbie, he discovered it wasn't easy to get into existing ensembles, and despite the praise he had gotten for his role as assistant bad guy in the children's play, Karl found he was practically back to square one when it came to winning a part through auditions. True, the director of the children's theater had encouraged him to come and audition again any time, but for the spring season they were putting on a fairy-tale in classical ballet. And although Karl/Oskar may have a lot of experience in revue dancing, classical ballet was way out of his league.
From a financial point of view, he could have continued the aspiring actor's life of mostly striking out at auditions, occasionally interspersed with minor jobs, for several years. There was however one more factor to consider. And that factor was called Adolf Hitler.
Under the dictatorial regime of the nut (as Karl preferred to think of him), the German society had become increasingly grim. It was true that Hitler had succeeded in eliminating all unemployment – at least, if you believed the statistics. It was an open secret however that much of this achievement was due to the firing of Jews (who in Hitler's book didn't count as humans anyway, so their now massive unemployment was not included in the statistics), and replacing them with 'real' Germans who were more often than not neither fully qualified nor had the experience necessary for the job.
But Jews were not the only ones to be harassed, excluded and discriminated. Anyone deemed unfit by Hitler's sick philosophies to be part of the Aryan superrace risked a similar fate. And one of those 'unworthy' groups were the mentally retarded. Like his nephew Julius...
He was reminded of this when he returned to Viersen in January for Reinke's wedding – the last of his sisters to get married. With all his brothers-in-law finally holding down a job (thanks to Hitler's policy) it was a far more festive affair than any of the previous family weddings he recalled. Practically the entire Langenscheidt clan was present, leaving only the miss of their mother to dampen the spirits a bit. Karl had danced with his nieces (several of whom were but a few years his junior), cracked jokes with his nephews, discussed world politics with his in-laws and submitted himself to his sisters' fussing over their baby-brother's well-being. He carefully stuck to his previous claims about working at a fancy hotel, but he did allow himself to relate about his part in the Christmas play, making it sound as if it was his dramaclub that had put on the show.
And it was in this ambience that he learned about Julius – his sister Luise's youngest son, who was a Down's child – having been referred to a state institution for 'experimental treatment'. But Luise and her husband had refused. In the noise of the party she now admitted to Karl and two of her sisters that seeing to Julius's special needs was a burden indeed in addition to raising their six other children. "Still, we love him far too much to let him be treated as a guinea pig. Especially in a 'state' institution, knowing that the bloody state doesn't even regard him as a human being."
Trude and Sibylla nodded appalled, but Karl was already thinking in solutions. "Luise, why don't you take him abroad – away from Hitler's authority?"
A nervous laugh. "Have you lost your mind, Karl? I can't just leave Klaus and the children and go and live somewhere else!"
"Then you all go. At least until that nut's out of power." After all, this was along the same lines as helping Jews to get out of the country.
"But Klaus has got a good job now. And the children's schooling... Besides, where would you have us go?"
"Anywhere you want. Holland is the closest of course. Or Belgium, or France. Or Luxembourg – they even speak German there. As long as Julius is out of Hitler's reach."
Sibylla shook her head. "I think you're overreacting, Karl. Surely things aren't that bad that they'd just come and take him away without his parents' consent."
Karl slumped in his chair. "They're bound to if this keeps up much longer. I've heard of many people fleeing the country. The Zagarovs even moved to America."
"Zagarov? Wasn't that your friend Peter's family?" Trude inquired.
He nodded. "I thought I'd go and see them now that I'm in the area, to ask how Peter was faring. But the neighbours told me they'd moved away last year. To some place called Milwaukee. And all they could tell me about Peter was that he hadn't gone with them."
The talk moved on towards Trude's best friend who was also contemplating to move to the States, and Karl's eyes wandered off toward the end of the room, where his younger nephews and nieces were happily engaged in what looked like a police versus the bad guys game. Julius was among them, not quite understanding the rules, but his cousins gamely overlooked his goofs and helped him to participate to the best of his abilities.
Apart from Karl himself, and Grethe and her family who lived in München, they all lived in the Düsseldorf area, and consequently the children saw each other frequently for birthdays and holidays. They were as much playmates as they were cousins, and had totally accepted Julius as he was.
He had a bitter smile as he realized he might have to expand his Moving Services to just these kind of families as well. Even if it meant staying on as Oskar Danzig in order to keep the necessary funds flowing in.
As he became aware of Luise's eyes on him, he turned to her. "Just promise me you'll think about it, okay?" he pleaded quietly. "I can help. I don't want to see him hurt."
Ten days later he received word that little Julius had been forcibly removed from his family's care, and put in an institution in Kiel. Family visits were not encouraged (and that put it mildly).
After beating himself up for an hour or so for not having been more insistent with his sister, Karl became aware that his energy would be much wiser spent in trying to find a way to get Julius away from the Nazi pseudo doctors.
But he soon found that was far easier said than done.
Ideally, he'd march into the institution posing as an officer (preferably Gestapo – a simple party-pin was easier to come by than a full uniform) with falsified orders to collect for example five 'Unterkinder' for a special experiment in Berlin. Then he'd have them all lined up, pick out Julius and a few others, and personally take them to a safe place – possibly across the nearby Danish border right away.
There were however three major problems with this set-up. First of all he had no idea where to take the rescued children. He didn't know a single soul in the Kiel area, let alone in Denmark, and he couldn't very well drop the kids on just anybody's doorstep. With a bit of bad luck, they'd end up with a Nazi sympathizer and would be sent right back where they came from.
Secondly, he didn't have a clue as to what Gestapo orders looked like and included, making it impossible to produce believable fake ones.
And thirdly, he had seen enough of Hitler's Geheime Staatspolizei at work around town to know that a mission like this would be undertaken by at least two, but more likely three or even four men. And where was he going to find a few helpers he could trust?
For that was yet another curse of Hitler's glorious Third Reich: you couldn't trust anyone nowadays. There was no way to tell a friend from an enemy – your very own brother could turn out to be a party member and turn you in for a casual disapproving remark of the New Order.
Still, his brothers-in-law were the first ones he considered asking. Klaus himself was probably too closely involved – chances were that he wouldn't be able to hide his feelings upon seeing his son there. But with a little coaching, Renz and Benno, and possibly even Artur, might just make quite convincing Nazis.
But he dismissed the idea. This wasn't like the slipping through the meshes of the law he did when he was helping Jews to get out of Germany. No – if he'd manage to have a serious go at getting Julius out of that institution by posing as a Gestapo officer, it was likely to be regarded as a serious crime. He couldn't subject his brothers-in-law to such danger – they all had a family to take care of. And besides, he'd very much prefer to keep his relatives unaware of his attempts to thwart the Nazis. If only for his own safety.
No. If he was ever to undertake something as bold as this – and he was certain there was a reasonable chance for success – he was going to need allies. People who were equally aghast by what the Nazi regime was doing as he was. People he could trust.
And if there was one man left in all of Berlin whom he knew he could trust, it was the priest of his parish.
Since he had restarted his Oskar Danzig career back when he was in the army, Karl had not been the most regular churchgoer in town. Most regular masses conflicted with his working hours, but he still tried to catch at least one mass a month. It was sufficient, he knew, for Father Werner to know who he was, and to recognize him as a member of his small parish. So when he stayed behind in his pew the next day after the early morning mass, the reverend priest showed no surprise.
"What is it, my son?"
Karl looked up. "Can I talk to you, Father? In private? And I mean really in private?"
"Of course. Follow me." Father Werner led the way to a small reception room to the side, and closed the door behind his guest.
Karl glanced around. It was but a small room, with only a skylight high up in the sloping ceiling to allow the early morning sun to cast its rays on the white walls.
"Have a seat, my son," Father Werner said, and he sat himself at his desk. "What can I do for you?"
Karl sat down in one of the easy chairs without really relaxing. "I would like to ask your advice."
Father Werner nodded, and Karl went on relating about what had happened to his nephew this week. "My sister and her family are so worried for him. They have no faith in any 'experimental treatment' imposed by the Nazis, and more so knowing that a child with a handicap like Julius's isn't even regarded as a human being by that bunch."
Father Werner nodded his agreement. "They will have a lot to answer for when the day comes."
Karl sat up. "Exactly! But I don't want to wait for that – I want to try and get Julius out of there as soon as possible. But I can't do it on my own."
Father Werner raised his eyebrows. "Are you asking me to pull some strings with the party?"
"No – no, of course not. I've got a plan to go and fetch him myself. But I can't do it on my own – I need at least one person to come with me. And I need props, too. And... I thought, since you know so many people, and... and you've spoken out against the New Order several times in your sermons..." He began to flounder a bit, but Father Werner had already picked up on the gist of his request.
"You're here to ask if I could introduce you to some people who might be able and willing to help you to get your nephew out of that institution."
A sigh of relief. "Yes."
The priest sat in silence for a long time, with the young man watching him in anticipation. Finally, the older man spoke again. "And what exactly does this plan of yours entail?"
Karl looked somewhat uncomfortable. "I'd rather not tell you. It could imply your complicity in case it'd go wrong and they grab us. The less you know, the better."
A mild smile. "I'm glad you are able to face up to the danger of what you're planning, and I thank you for your consideration on my behalf. But son, if I'm to help you find someone to assist you in your plan, then I'll need to know at least the basics of what you intend to do. How else can I make a sensible recommendation as to whom you should talk?"
Karl thought this over, and found the argument logical. "Okay. Here's what I want to do." He briefly outlined his idea, and awaited the priest's verdict with some trepidation.
The question he got though was not quite one of the many things he had been deliberating about by himself these past days. "And what makes you think you can pull off to act as a nasty Gestapo officer? You don't exactly seem the type."
Taken aback, he answered, "Well... I'm an actor. A professional actor, I mean. An impersonator really."
Eyebrows shot up. "An impersonator?"
"Yes. Ever since I was a child, I could watch other people for a little while, and then mimic all their actions, their posture, their speech, their entire being – everything! And believe me: I only came out of the army a few months ago – I've had ample opportunities to study the comportment of nasty officers."
Father Werner watched him with incredulity, but then a small smile crept to the corners of his mouth. "That certainly is a talent with possibilities!" He chuckled. "But that's for another time to muse about. Let's see what you need for your plan to rescue your nephew first. One or two men to accompany you as aides – men who at the very least can keep a straight face no matter what happens, but preferably with some acting experience. And then some sort of a Gestapo outfit for all of you, as well as fake orders. Hm." He stroked his chin.
"And a safe place to take Julius and the others once we get them out of there," Karl added.
"Yes. But I may already have a solution for that."
Karl raised his eyebrows, and Father Werner explained, "I have a friend in Neustadt – not far from Kiel, and practically on your way back from Kiel to Berlin. He's the priest of the parish there, and a good friend of mine. I know he's been helping Jews to get out of the country, so I am fairly certain that he would be willing and able to help these children, too. He may even have contacts in Denmark."
Karl beamed. "That would be great!"
"I'll write him today," the priest promised. "And as for the uniforms: I know just the man. He's in the regular army, and he is responsible for the central uniform depot."
"And would he be willing to secretly lend us some?"
"Definitely. Or else I would not recommend him to you. He's doing the Bible reading in tomorrow's evening mass, so perhaps you could meet him afterwards?"
Karl blew his hair away from his forehead. "Difficult. I don't want to arouse too much suspicion by skipping more rehearsals. They're already bound to give me a hard time for the day we're going to Kiel. But perhaps... I should be able to get back here by nine tomorrow evening. Do you think you could ask him to wait?"
Father Werner nodded. "I suppose so. And by tomorrow I may also have someone to accompany you to Kiel."
Karl sighed. "Thank you, Father. You're solving a lot of my problems."
A chuckle. "Well, that's part of my job description, isn't it? To help people solve their problems."
Karl grinned. "I know. My godfather is a priest, too."
"Where?" Father Werner's interest was instantly piqued.
"In Hamelburg, near Düsseldorf."
Father Werner suddenly stood. "In Hamelburg, you say? That wouldn't happen to be Frank Geisler, would it?"
Karl nodded in surprise. "He's my uncle, yes. How do you know him?"
"Well, with the Roman Catholic church being rather minor in Germany, us priests tend to know all our colleagues in the country. But Frank Geisler... we were in the seminary together. But that was of course many years ago. Before you were even born, I guess." He shook his head. "So you're a nephew of Frank Geisler's..." He seemed to lose himself in memories for a moment, but he shook himself visibly and turned back to his visitor. "So I'll see you around nine tomorrow evening. Just come into the church – that's the least conspicuous."
"Alright." Karl got up to leave. "Oh, and one more thing, Father. Please don't tell these people my name. Or even what I look like. I'd prefer to keep my 'real' persona as inconspicuous as possible, so I'll show up in disguise and under another name tomorrow. In return, they are free not to give away anything about themselves either. The less we know of each other, the less we can betray."
.
Author's note: I hope I'll be able to finish the next chapter before Thursday – if not, there's no way of telling how long it's going to be, since I'm having a minor operation on my elbow that day. And I'm afraid that is going to keep me from writing for a while (how will I survive? ! ?). A real pity, for we are getting close to meeting our first other acquaintance from Stalag 13...
As a consolation, I have good hopes to be able to do some serious catching up on my reading instead. :-)
