The Plum Tree (16 page)

“I will shrink from no responsibility. In every hour I will take this burden upon me. I will bear every duty, just as I have always borne them. I have the greatest authority among the populace. The people know me. They know that I had endless plans in those years before the war. They see everywhere the signs of works begun, and sometimes also the documents of completion. I know that the German people trust me. I am happy to know it. But the German people may be persuaded also of one thing, that the year 1918, as long as I live, will never return!” He looked toward the sky, then stood back from the podium and bowed his head, his gesturing hand held captive beneath his arm, as he listened to the crowd roar. Then he puffed out his chest and stepped forward, his fist above his head. “When the English and Americans attack our cities, we will raze their cities to the ground. When they drop three thousand kilograms of bombs, we will, in one raid, drop three hundred thousand! Now you, the citizens of Hessental, are being called up for service. . . .”

Maria stared at Christine with wide eyes, and Heinrich’s arms stiffened around Christine’s neck. His legs clenched around her waist. She wished she could say something to comfort them, to tell them they didn’t need to worry about bombs, but reassuring words escaped her.
Three thousand kilograms of bombs? In one raid?
She thought of the wooden door on the root cellar, the few yards of tree-rooted earth between the top of the shelter and the open sky.
How will we ever survive?
She gripped Heinrich’s legs, suddenly light-headed and worried she might drop him.

On stage, Hitler had changed the subject. “At every decision you make,” he said, “think, how would the Führer decide? Is this compatible with the National Socialist conscience of the German people? The Jewish youth waits for hours on end, spying on the unsuspicious German girl he plans to seduce. He wants to contaminate her blood and remove her from the bosom of her own people. The Jews hate the white race and want to lower its cultural level, so the Jew might dominate. Was there any filth or crime without one Jew involved in it? None but members of the nation shall be citizens of the state. None but those of German blood may be members of the nation. Thus the home front need not be warned, and the prayer of this priest of the devil, the wish that Europe may be punished with Bolshevism, will not be fulfilled, but rather that our prayer may be fulfilled. Lord God, give us the strength that we may retain our liberty for our children and our children’s children, not only for ourselves but also for the other peoples of Europe, for this is a war which we all wage, this time, not for our German people alone. It is a war for all of Europe and with it, in the long run, for all of mankind.”

Christine felt her mother’s trembling hand slip into her own. She turned to look at her. Mutti’s eyes were glassy.

“Can we go home now?” Karl said. “I don’t like it here.”

Someone tapped Christine on the shoulder. At first, she ignored it, thinking it was Heinrich. But then, a strong hand gripped her arm, and she turned. The SS soldier towered above her, his face void of emotion. A rush of panic plowed through her chest. She glanced back at her mother, who was staring back at her, wide eyes in a pale face.

“Fräulein?”
the soldier said to Christine. “You are to come with me.”

“Why?” she said, trying to read the soldier’s eyes beneath the dark shadow of his helmet. “What did I do?” Heinrich released his grip around her neck and slid down her back. Her mother gripped her arm with such force that she almost cried out.

“You’ve been chosen for a special task,” he said. “You’ll be reunited with your family as soon as you’re finished.”

Christine looked past him, down the line of spellbound people. Two more soldiers stood with a group of young women in the open aisle, most in Bund Deutscher Mädel uniforms, all of them blond.

“But I . . .” Christine started.

“It’s best to do as you’re told,” the soldier said. “Follow me.”

Mutti’s hand fell away as Christine followed the black uniform through the crowd, the villagers stepping back to make room, their staring eyes filled with curiosity and pity. In the aisle, she recognized two girls from Maria’s school days, one from a farm on the edge of the village, another she’d seen at the train station picking up uniforms. The soldiers led the girls along the aisles toward the wall of military lined up in front of the stage.

“What’s going on? Why did they choose us?” Christine asked the girl in front of her.

“Don’t you know?” the girl said, her voice filled with excitement. “Look at us. We’re perfect examples of the Aryan race!”

A soldier appeared beside them. “No talking!”

On their way to the stage, Christine saw a flash of red hair on a girl standing on the other side of the rope. As she drew closer, the redhead turned, and Christine had a clear view of her face. It was Kate, smiling and waving a miniature flag. When Kate noticed the group of girls being led toward the Führer, her eyebrows lowered, and her face went dark. She crossed her arms and looked every girl up and down, as if to see why they had been selected instead of her. When she saw Christine, her face snapped forward, but not before Christine saw her mouth drop open.

The soldiers lined the girls up in front of the stage, instructing them to stand up straight and smile, feet together and chin up. Christine was last in the row. Behind them, Hitler made another announcement.

“The Aryan girls you see before me are pure treasures of the German state. You must keep them safe from the criminals looking to steal their German purity. They are the future mothers of the master race!”

The throng applauded, and the soldiers snapped to attention and shouted, “
Heil
Hitler!” When the band started to play another military march, Hitler made his way down the stairs on the side of the stage, waving and smiling to his adoring crowd. The four decorated officers followed him. Starting on the other end of the line, Hitler shook each girl’s hand and touched her cheek. Christine’s pulse thumped in her neck, the flames of the bonfires so close it felt like they were singeing the back of her head. She searched the crowd for her family, but it was no use. From here, it was impossible to recognize a face among the masses.

Now, Hitler was only three feet away. Christine couldn’t help staring at his pasty cheeks and wattle neck, wiggling like a bowl of clotted cream when he shook hands. His thin-lipped mouth reminded her of rolled herring as he made his way down the line, mumbling a repeated phrase to every girl. He looked nothing like he did on posters, where he had smooth skin and a broad chin. In every picture or photograph she’d ever seen, he looked six foot tall. But in person, he was the same height as the girls, with a narrow chest and rounded shoulders.

Christine’s mouth went dry when Hitler moved in front of her and offered his hand. For a split second, she couldn’t move. His blue eyes locked with hers. She noticed that one of them was bigger than the other, as if the left half of his brain were bulging in its socket, pushing his eyeball out past its lid. His lip twitched, his glued-on smile faltering when she didn’t respond. Christine noticed one of the officers moving toward her, hands out, ready to whisk her away for her crime. Finally, she remembered what to do, and her arm shot out. Hitler grabbed her hand, his warm palm soggy against her skin. A nauseating jolt leapt though her body, and it was all she could do not to yank her hand away. When he reached up to touch her cheek, she tried not to flinch.

“You are the essence of the German people,” he said, his sour breath filling her nostrils, like someone had opened a bag of rotten potatoes at her feet. “I want to personally extend an invitation to you to join our Lebensborn program. The Third Reich will spare no expense to help German girls fulfill their duty to expand the master race, along with the fine men of our SS. Make your fatherland proud. We fight this war for you. And we will win, of that you can be sure.”

At first, Christine wanted nothing more than for Hitler to let go of her hand, but then she gripped his tighter, fighting the urge to yank him closer so she could spit into his face. He gazed at her, his eyes looking but not seeing, and finished his rehearsed greeting. When she refused to let go, his muddy eyes cleared. He looked straight at her.
You’ve ruined millions of people’s lives,
she thought, staring at him.
And I hope you pay. There’s a place for murderers. It’s called hell.
Hitler’s shoulders went back, and his chin lifted, as if he’d heard her thoughts. A small sound escaped his lips, like the grunt of a burrowing animal. Then he laughed, shaking her hand with more energy.

“I appreciate your admiration,
Fräulein,
” he said. “But I must be on my way. I’m an important man, you know.” He chuckled again and looked at the officer beside him, who laughed with him.

Christine let go of Hitler’s hand and lowered her eyes. Behind him, the multitudes cheered. A black Mercedes-Benz convertible decorated with Nazi flags pulled up, and the driver got out and opened the door. Hitler smiled at the row of girls, then turned and climbed into the car. He stood in the passenger seat, his arm held high above the roaring crowd. After the car moved out of the square and disappeared down a narrow side street, an officer gestured that the girls were free to go. Christine hurried down the aisle to look for her family. The military band kept playing as the soldiers marched out of the square and the crowd dispersed. Christine saw Oma, Opa, Mutti, and Maria hurrying toward her, Karl and Heinrich in tow.

“Are you all right?” Mutti said.

“I’m fine,” Christine said. “I just want to go home.”

Maria slipped her arm through Christine’s, and Karl reached for her right hand. She flinched and drew away.

“Don’t touch me,” she said, and kept walking.

Later, after everyone had gone to bed, Christine snuck down to the kitchen in her nightgown, wearing a wool sweater and a thick pair of socks. After the rally, a storm had blown in, making it feel like winter was starting all over again. Howling gusts rattled the shutters, and rain tapped against the windowpanes like icy fingernails. Christine lit a candle and set it near the sink, then went to the woodstove and felt the teakettle. It was still warm, but not warm enough. She opened the door to the oven and threw in another log, hoping to revive the dying fire, then rummaged in the cupboard for a stiff brush and bar of lye soap. After she found what she was looking for, she filled the sink with a few inches of water, then paced the room, waiting.

A few minutes later, bursts of steam erupted from the spout of the teakettle. Christine took off her sweater and rolled up the sleeves of her nightgown. She poured half the hot water into the sink, wet her hands and cheek, and then, using the lye soap and the stiff brush, built up a pungent-smelling lather on her skin. She’d washed her hands and face as soon as she had gotten home from the rally, and again before changing into her bedclothes, but it wasn’t good enough. She could still feel Hitler’s soggy hand in her own, his slimy fingers touching her cheek, as if somehow, through his secretions, through his tainted touch, she’d been contaminated, poisoned in some way. She kept picturing his sweat mixing with her own, his evil essence coursing through her blood, corrupting her body and soul. It was if the devil himself had laid hands on her, and now she was doomed to certain damnation. She closed her eyes and grimaced, scrubbing as hard as she could, tears building up behind her lids. The brush tore at her skin, the lye soap burning the tiny abrasions. After a few minutes, she went to the stove, retrieved the teakettle, and went back to the sink.

Just as she was getting ready to pour the boiling water over her hand, Maria came into the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” she said, her eyes wide. She grabbed the teakettle out of Christine’s grip. “Stop! You’ll get burned!”

“Bitte,”
Christine said. “I’m nearly done. It will be all right.”

“Nein!”
Maria said. She put the teakettle back on the stove. “Have you lost your mind?”

“I just need to wash. I need to sterilize my skin.”

“He’s just a man,” Maria said, her voice hard. “An evil man, to be sure, but a man just the same. He can’t hurt you by touching your hand! He doesn’t have special powers!”

“How do you know?” Christine said, her eyes filling. “He has brainwashed so many people! How else could he still have so many followers, no matter what he does?” Even as she heard her own words, Christine knew they sounded crazy. She also knew Maria was the only one she could say them to.

Maria took Christine by the wrist and turned her toward the sink. “Here, I’ll help you,” she said. “But you’re not going to pour boiling water on yourself.” Maria let the soapy water out of the sink and refilled it partway, adding enough hot water from the teakettle to make it warm, then gently rinsed Christine’s cheek and hands. “You’ve broken the skin in a few places,” she said, her forehead furrowed.

“I can barely feel it,” Christine said, letting Maria douse the lather from her irritated skin. “I’m sorry I scared you, it’s just . . .”

“I understand,” Maria said. “Not only did Hitler act like a madman up on that stage, he wants to kill the man you love. I’d probably do the same thing if he touched me.”

“
Danke
for being such a good sister,” Christine said. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Well, I don’t know what I’d do without you either, so you’d better start taking better care of yourself. What if you’d been badly burned and got an infection or something? You know there’s no medicine for civilians! You know everything is going to the soldiers at the front!” Maria retrieved a clean dish towel from a kitchen drawer and gently dried Christine’s hands and face, her eyes growing moist.

“I know,” Christine said. “It was stupid. I wasn’t thinking straight.”

Maria pressed her lips together, tears spilling from her eyes.

“Why are you crying?” Christine said. “I’m all right, really!”

“I know,” Maria said, wiping a hand under her nose. “I’m just scared, that’s all. I keep waiting and wondering what’s going to happen next.”