"Captain, it is now mid afternoon and I will leave you after the sun sets. What else is there you wish to know in your remaining time?" he asked professionally, almost as if he was a tour guide asking me what sites I wanted to see. "It's time to continue moving. You'll have more than enough time in eternity to reflect the reality and impact of your wish. His voice startled me from my shocked and contemplative thoughts of what I had forced upon Margot.
"My family," I trailed off, remembering them, finally focusing on them after I had seen so much of my personal life. "You have shown me the impact my absence will have on the war effort, but nothing on how it will impact my family. It is critical for me to know their fates without me being born."
"You are a good soldier, Captain. You thought of your men, even your enemies, before your immediate loved ones. I must commend you for that." He started to walk away as he said this, looking out unto the sun a few hours from the horizon. I caught up with him and grabbed him by the shoulder turning him around to face me.
"My family, show me their fates," I demanded.
"Your family…" he paused to gather the right words, "will have a difficult time after the war. Only your mother and sister will survive. Your father will die near the war's end, fighting to defend Berlin against the Soviets."
"My father? You must be joking. He is almost eighty," I brushed off his words as nonsense. "He already served Germany in the last war, under the Kaiser. My father couldn't abide Hitler and all the warped Nazi ideals. He thought the Nazis had turned Germany into a caricature of itself. I find it hard to believe at his age he would give his life to fight for Hitler, for the Nazis."
"You were willing to fight for Hitler," he countered, trying to box me into a corner.
"Don't assume because I am a German that I am also a Nazi, that I support Hitler and his bastard ideology," I said angrily. "It is different for me than it is for those who so blindly follow him. My family had a long tradition of serving in the military and I felt myself bound by it to continue our obligation.
"I have always convinced myself I was serving Germany, not the Nazis. My military service is unfortunate when compared to that of my ancestors. I have the misfortune of serving in the wrong German military at the wrong time. I have done what I can to lessen Nazi directives without undermining my orders."
"Apparently, the obligation you speak of runs deep in the Dietrich family. Your father will serve Germany once again, at the end of this war. He will serve not to support Hitler, but for Germany, very much the same reasons as you have done. Since you are not present in this re-written version of life, he felt obligated to serve Germany again since the family had not contributed a man to the war effort.
"He will die in April 1945, trying to hold off the Soviet invasion and will be buried as an unknown in a mass grave. Your mother and sister will never know exactly what becomes of him after he marches away. Captain, if you haven't already surmised the war's outcome, Germany will lose this war, the same as it did the previous war."
I was shocked at the loss of my father. He had always been the rock and foundation for our family. I thought of him as someone bigger than life, someone I could not imagine as passing from life on this Earth. His death was difficult for me to accept, especially given that I was responsible for his demise. With his passing, my thoughts were focused on how my mother and sister were surviving. I could only imagine how they felt to be alone, just the two of them to support each other in these difficult times. If I had been alive, I would have been there to provide them some type of relief or assistance.
"You mentioned that my mother and sister survive the war. What becomes of them?" I pressed him.
"What I will show you of their fates will not be pleasant. Are you positive this is what you want to know?" I found myself becoming uneasy, but I was unable to stop myself from giving him a short nod. He looked at me for several minutes before replying.
"Then let me take you to them." He motioned for me to follow him and I soon discovered myself on a bombed out street, strewn with rubble. The destruction was devastating and almost complete; it was an exception for a building to be standing. I looked around to find a landmark and realized we were in Munich. Thank God, I thought. I believed this area would be more likely to be held by the Americans or the British.
Perkins stopped in front of a seedy building, heavily damaged but still standing. He motioned to a side door entrance, located in an alley way. The door opened to a narrow and dark stairway which reeked of urine and other foul odors. I started up the stairs and continued to climb until we reached the fourth floor and exited into a dark hallway. The carpet was tattered and I could see the occasional rat scurry across the hall. Perkins stopped in front of a doorway and gestured for me to enter.
"You mean to say that my mother and sister are living here, in some cold water flat?" I asked, pausing before I entered. "Our stables and kennels back home were a palace compared to this. My father would have horse whipped us if we had housed any of the animals in such poor conditions."
"Times are difficult after the war, your family is fortunate to have this place, even for what it is. Housing is at a premium," he said sadly.
"Our estate outside of Coburg, why are they not living there? Was it destroyed during the war? Or occupied by the invading forces? Given its location, I'm assuming it would probably be safe."
"No it wasn't destroyed or occupied and it will be located within the American province. Unfortunately, though, your mother was unable to keep the estate."
"I find that difficult to believe. My family has a significant amount of hard currency in Switzerland: Swiss Francs, not Reich Marks. My paternal grandfather created a substantial trust fund years ago before I was even born. In addition, my mother brought significant funds to the family when she married my father. All of the funds were safe and viable in Swiss banks. I know the funds were still there and viable as of the last time I was home. Even the Nazis or the Allies would not have been able to seize the funds."
"When your father was killed, your mother could not prove his death amid the chaos after the war. The Swiss banks would not honor the accounts and seized the funds. Unfortunately, this will be a fairly common occurrence after the war. Your family will not be the only ones impacted by such unethical banking actions. To complicate matters further, your family was also denied entry into Switzerland in its attempt to prove its ownership of the funds. There was nothing your family could do when the funds were lost to them. They were left destitute."
He patiently gestured for me to enter again. Finally, I reluctantly opened the door and entered into a tiny, single room flat. It was dark and dingy and smelled of mold and rot. Light was emitted from a single grimy window high on the wall. My eyes automatically went to the ceiling which was severely stained with water marks. The only splash of color in the fetid place was a single pot of my mother's prized pink geraniums, yellowing and drooping for lack of sunlight.
I realized with a pang of sorrow that it had been over a year since I had last seen my family. My last scheduled leave had been abruptly cancelled and afterwards I had been recovering from an injury which lasted several weeks. There had been no time for me to return home and I was ordered to return to my unit in Africa. Yes, time had slipped away without me realizing its passage. As for my father, he had slipped away, too. I had forever lost the opportunity to see him again.
Across the room, I could see my mother and sister and I immediately went to them. I turned my attention to my mother, who was sitting in the only chair: a battered straight back located next to an equally scarred table. I stood quietly before her, and I could feel my face soften as a wave of emotions overtook me. She seemed so out of place here, in a situation I would never have thought possible even in my worst nightmares.
My mother, Alexandra, was still an attractive woman at sixty years of age, with a classic profile and alabaster skin. Her hair was fashionably swept up, but I noticed its light ash blond color was now heavily streaked with gray. She was tall and willowy and both my sister and I had inherited her light frame. She was the descendent of aristocracy and the way she carried herself one would never be able to doubt her heritage.
Cultured and educated, my mother loved the arts and our house was continually filled with music. I remembered her playing classical piano, softly with such emotion, her hands moving effortlessly over the keys. I would offer to play one of her favorite pieces and then frequently torment her by switching to American ragtime or jazz when she left the room. I would then swiftly revert to a classical composer when she was about to renter the room. With a cigarette dangling from my lips, I would innocently look at her as if nothing had occurred, allowing her to speculate about what she thought she had just heard.
She had received many suitors, rejecting them all until she met my father. There was something about my father, Erich, his self-confidence and maturity, which had won my mother's heart and soul and she wouldn't have anyone else despite the age difference. She had been significantly younger than my father, almost by twenty years, but one would never realize it when you were in their presence. Even though he was almost forty when they met, he had never been married before, except perhaps, to the army, as my mother would gently remind him.
My father was almost two meters tall, built solid as a bear, but without a gram of fat on him. As tall as I was, I always felt short standing next to him. He was a sight to be seen on a horse, and I firmly believed he would have put the fear of God into any man who had the misfortune to be on the receiving side of a cavalry charge he was leading. He had been highly decorated in the Great War, and was savvy enough to build up significant political and military contacts he maintained even after the Nazis gained power.
My parents had an extraordinary marriage, whose success and happiness I hoped to recreate in my own some day. I never remembered them fighting; strong words perhaps, but never a heated argument, not even during the difficult times after the last war. When I was a boy, I often would hear whispers from family members and friends which expressed the smug belief that one, if not both of them, would quickly fall into affairs given the age difference. But they proved all of them wrong with a strong marriage that would be envied by any couple.
Looking at my mother now in this squalid place, I could remember her dancing with my father in glamorous ballrooms at various social and official functions, a handsome couple owning the dance floor with their grace and strength. She once told me that women love to dance, and one of the surest ways for a gentleman to impress a lady was to be an excellent dancer.
She had taught me to dance and over the years I would often smile to myself about how she was correct. I never lacked for willing dance partners and if I may boast, I was an excellent dancer. I made a striking figure on the dance floor, holding the woman tight as I made her feel as if she was the only woman in the room. I frequently enjoyed dancing until dawn and then showing my guest the sunrise, sharing the last glass of champagne with her and savoring a final passionate kiss that neither one of us wanted to end.
Before the war, my mother had frequently reminded me to relax and enjoy life, to find the right woman and fall in love, politely not mentioning the constant parade of different women I seemed to have in my life. She respected and was pleased with my career choice (was it even a choice?) yet she wanted me to give my life to something other than just the Wehrmacht. When I would protest that I was happy with my life, she would laugh that musical laugh of hers and comment how I was just like my father. I would soon be his age but alone if I didn't heed time, she would gently warn me.
Our mother had insisted for my sister to attend a prominent college and to become formally educated unlike so many of the young women we knew at the time. She wanted my sister to study abroad to broaden her thoughts and opinions. She believed this would help her realize that the world had more to offer than the divisive promises Nazi Germany was beginning to serve the willing population in those early years.
My sister had eagerly attended St. Hilda's College and received a degree in literature. Like me, she also spoke several languages fluently and we used to enjoy discussing various books of classic and modern literature, playfully arguing various thoughts in different languages. I looked around the depressing room which was her current home and my immediate thought was that her degree had ended up being useless. All the education and knowledge she possessed were not valuable enough to ensure her a decent living.
I could see my sister at the far side of the room, combing her hair in front of a small cracked mirror. I recognized Liesl from the back even though she had lost a considerable amount of weight. I went and stood behind her as she did this most simple of tasks, seeing her reflection in the mirror. She was a beautiful woman and I smiled at her even though she was unable to see me, remembering the lives we had shared together.
Except for our dark looks and keen intellect, we could not have been more different. She was outgoing and vivacious while I tended to be aloof and reserved. She had dozens of friends, both female and male, while I preferred to keep just a few close ones. I would joke with her that she had never met a stranger and she was forever inviting people she just met home for dinner and weekend events. People truly liked her and enjoyed being in her presence.
I always viewed her as my baby sister even though she was only three years my junior. We had raised havoc on my parent's estate together, running around like a couple of wild banshees when we were home on holiday from boarding school. We frequently only had each other to entertain ourselves and we would turn unruly when we were out of our parent's and servant's sights. Liesl knew that I held high standards for myself and I would not tolerate the weak and slow-footed if she should fall behind. Liesl easily kept up with me and I never gave it a second thought that she was a girl.
We made the most of our free time climbing trees, riding horses, running with the dogs and causing mischief. Unfortunately, it was my backside which normally paid the price for our naughtiness since it was unfathomable to my parents for a young lady to raise any type of mayhem or chaos. Liesl would stand there with round eyes, the personification of innocence while I was being dragged away by my ear for yet another round on punishment.
My mother whipped me herself personally when she caught me teaching Liesl how to smoke. I had picked up the habit at school and I thought it was my duty as her older brother to in turn introduce smoking to her. My mother detested the habit although she tolerated my father's occasional cigars and was always after me to quit. When she found out I was slipping cigarettes to Liesl, she was shocked at my brazen behavior and wanted to teach me a lesson I would never forget. I always found it ironic that it was my thrashing which inspired my sister to never touch a cigarette again.
I had never really noticed Liesl looks before and had always thought of her as a gangly colt until she later came home from college, a recent graduate. I was home on leave for her graduation party and went to meet her at the train station. I hadn't seen her for several months and I barely recognized the poised and suave young women who stepped down from the train, the one wearing the chic Chanel suit who had grown into those long legs.
I finally realized she had become a woman when she sent me in search of a glass of champagne at her party. I returned with one only to find her with a glass already provided by a suitor and the dawning realization she had politely tried to remove me from her presence. I didn't need to be told twice on how her life had now changed. She no longer needed me or our father to be her dance partner at events. I only had danced with her a few steps at her party before another man quickly cut in and took my place, leaving me to wonder what had just happened.
It seemed that every time I returned home I began noticing men flocking around the estate, vying to be near her and to have her undivided attention. What I hadn't recognized about her earlier, other men readily had. My friends, including Ellery, had also taken notice of her and they were always trying to finagle an invitation to visit on the chance of her being in her company.
I continued to watch Liesl as she combed her hair, looking at her face reflected in the mirror. I was surprised to see that she had bleached her dark hair a bright blond, an action I found puzzling. She had always liked her dark tresses and they had perfectly accented her features and skin coloring. Yes, I thought sadly. My father must be dead for her to have performed such a deed. He would not how allowed or tolerated the procedure even from her.
I saw the worry and stress etched on her drawn face accented by those blond, brassy locks. The light I was so used to seeing in her eyes had vanished and now her eyes were flat and dull. How life had now changed for her, my mother and father, for all of us. A thought crossed my mind and I quickly turned to Perkins.
"Ellery? Has my absence changed his fate?" I asked hopefully, hoping against the answer I already knew.
"No," he replied, shaking his head. "That cannot be changed. He was already gone; your death does not change what has already happened to him. He is lost to her forever, at least in this world. She was destined to find another love, but that prospect will now not happen given the turn of events. No man will seek her regarding marriage now." I thought this an odd statement for Perkins to utter.
"How are they able to even survive in a place like this?" I finally asked, not wanting to accept Liesl's irrevocable loss of Ellery. He didn't say anything for several minutes and I was about to repeat my question when he finally spoke.
"Your sister does what she has to in order for them to live. She… 'sees' men," he voice hesitated, struggling to find the right word. "Your sister 'dates' men for money. Mostly American soldiers, they are the only ones with any hard money available after the war, but sometimes also the landlord to cover the rent. She has become a …" I immediately grabbed him by the throat with my hand and threw him against the shabby wall, holding him off the ground so his eyes were level with mine.
"You are quickly using up your nine lives with me, Perkins. How dare you suggest my sister would ever resort to such a thing," I said menacingly. His face began turning red and I could see him trying to say something so I slightly relaxed my hand allowing him to speak.
"This is not of my doing. I had nothing to do with the fate of her current life. I'm only stating was has come to be, nothing more, nothing less." He looked beyond me at her, with a look of compassion on his face.
"She would rather starve first before she would sell her body for money."
"That's true, she would. But she has your mother to look after and Liesl would not have her mother starve along with her." I released him and threw him to the ground as I finally heard my sister speak.
"Mother, I need to leave now for work," Liesl said with forced cheerfulness, looking at herself one last time in the small cracked mirror, doing a final touch up to her hair.
"Must you leave for work so late in the day? They work you such odd hours, my dear," my mother said understandably, not knowing the underlying reality of my sister's late departure.
"The hours are not too bad, Mama. I'm just happy to have a job and be able to earn something for us. Our situation will improve eventually and then I will be able to have a normal job, one with more standard hours," she said with a forced smile hiding her sadness. She walked past me with a determined step and I recognized the same strong set to her jaw and stubborn pride in her which I also possessed.
I followed her out the door, leaving our mother by herself in the fetid room. I watched my sister firmly walk down the hall and disappear down the same stairs I had climbed, her footfalls gradually disappearing into the darkness. I closed my eyes, having seen enough of their horrible future, forcing myself to gather my thoughts and strengthen my resolve.
I wanted to take both of them into my arms, to tell them everything would be fine: my father would not die in the final days of the war; I would survive and return home, they would not be destitute; my sister would not be forced to sell her body for the sake of their survival. Everything would return to normal as it was before the war. This life they were living was nothing more than a horrible nightmare, not only for them, but also for me. However, I knew all of this was now impossible. What I had witnessed on this day, not just concerning them but also all the others, was now the new reality of all of our lives. After several minutes, I realized Perkins had appeared by my side.
"You still have not showed me what happens to Sergeant Troy," I said strongly, forcing myself to place my emotions aside regarding my family. You have hinted several times that he is the other key missing link to all what surrounds me. You said he was not dead, I believe you said he was 'indisposed'. It is time for you to take me to him."