Season of My Enemy, page 22
“I suppose the air is better for her, and there might be more vegetables for her diet.”
Fritz folded up his letter. “Do you think it’s as bad as they say? That some of our people are starving?”
They’d all heard the sad stories, uncertain if they were true or American propaganda. “If the news is true, then it is not only our people who suffer.”
“The Jews, certainly. I’ve read they’re mostly in camps now or have been sent out of the country.”
“So I’ve heard.” Wolf made his way to the tent opening. Evening roll call would begin in a few minutes.
“Do you ever think about Leo?”
He opened the flap and paused for Fritz to go through. “All the time.”
“Have you heard anything?”
“Not yet.”
“Do you think they will execute him?”
“If he is found guilty of criminal acts, it is possible.”
“Hauptmann Kloninger …” Fritz’s voice dropped into a solemn note.
Wolf looked at him. The younger man’s face had reddened and his gaze flitted away. “What is it, Fritz? You may speak freely.”
“Nothing is wrong. I am only sorry. I suspected Leo was up to something. I even considered asking him to let me help.”
Wolf frowned. Should he be concerned about Fritz’s leanings now? “Why didn’t you come to me? In what way did he arouse your suspicions?”
Fritz shrugged. “Leo hated the Americans more than anyone else did. More than I hated them. I cannot say I still do,” Fritz admitted. “He was always looking for a way to harm or frighten them. Something that would bring him notice when he got back to Germany, I think. At least something that would bring him honor.”
Wolf sighed. “I see. I am afraid that Leo didn’t know who he was. Not really.”
“I cannot say that I know who I am half the time. A German soldier. That’s all.”
Wolf pocketed his hands, and the pair strolled toward the parade ground. “And a student, and a worker. When you get home, you’ll marry Emma, I presume? Then you will become a family man?”
“If I can find work enough to support her. And if she’ll have me,” he added sheepishly.
“I would be very surprised if she is not already planning her trousseau.”
Fritz grinned fully. “I will have to think of a good way to propose.”
“Talk to Otto about that. He’s quite creative, and I suspect between him and the rest, you’ll find some romantics among them.”
“Not Otto!” Fritz laughed. “He likes women, but I wouldn’t call him romantic. Maybe Horst.”
Wolf glanced ahead where an American soldier was walking toward the men with a clipboard.
“What about you, Hauptmann? Will you go back to teaching after the war?”
Would he? That had been his plan. Since being sent from the farm to work in the canning factory over in Barron, however, Wolf wondered where the future would take him. At the moment, he couldn’t imagine what his prospects looked like, though he acted like he did for the sake of the younger men.
“I will have to wait and see. My first thought will be toward my parents. I will look after their well-being, and then I will decide.”
Fritz nodded, accepting his answer, just as the American called them to attention. The sergeant rattled off each prisoner’s name and put a check after it on his chart as they responded.
The soldier lowered his clipboard and looked at them directly. “Tomorrow is Sunday, but no one will be leaving camp. As you know, two months ago one of your number was arrested and sent back to Fort McCoy where he was detained and awaited charges. Leo Friedrickson was charged for acts of sabotage against the United States and violating laws of war against civilians.” The sergeant directed a severe look at Wolf, but Wolf remained unmoved. He’d been cleared of wrongdoing. Fraülein O’Brien’s statement about the attack and Wolf’s subsequent aid—backed further by the statements from her mother and brothers—gave him no reason to squirm under scrutiny now. He had only one regret, and that was that he had not been able to stop the attack before it could happen. If only he’d seen Leo’s anger and resentment for what it was and could have been able to keep him from putting any plans into action that would result in Fannie’s or her family’s injuries. If only he could have stopped Leo from bringing destruction on himself.
“Herr Friedrickson …” the sergeant said with pause and emphasis, “has been given defense counsel and been tried by a military commission comprised of ranking U.S. Army officers.”
Wolf’s chest tightened, and he could not release his breath. He felt the tension of Horst and the others too, but he kept his gaze on the sergeant.
“He has been found guilty of acts of violence against American citizens, though it seems he worked alone. Therefore, he has not received a sentence of death but will remain imprisoned for the duration of the war plus twenty-five years.”
“A life sentence,” someone muttered as a collective release of breath passed down the line. Wolf suspected it was Otto who spoke.
The sergeant ignored the remark, or maybe he hadn’t heard it. “Lest anyone else feel a need to recriminate, this camp will remain on lockdown for one week. After that time, you will return to your normal work.” His glance connected with Wolf. “At the factory.”
Since the incident at the O’Brien farm, the men were pulled from employment there and sent instead to one of the local canning factories where they learned to detest the smell of souring cobs of corn. From what Wolf had been able to surmise, no other group had been sent to the O’Briens’ farm to finish out the season. They would do without the workers, probably to the blessed relief of Calvin O’Brien and Fannie’s mother. Maybe to Fannie herself after what she’d been through.
Tonight, at lights out, when everyone else fell asleep or turned over with their own thoughts, he would pray for the O’Briens just as he always did. He would pray they had been able to bring in the remainder of their crops. Perhaps the sweetest of the corn at the factory had come from their field. He liked to imagine that it had.
What would Fannie do now, after the hard work of summer? Would she return to school or take more workdays at the library? Would she remain at home to help her mother in the kitchen, leaving the fall and winter chores to Calvin? Would her older brother have kept his word to help them now that the PWs were gone? Did they all rest easy, with the season coming to an end, and simply take the time to mourn their father’s loss and their imprisoned brother?
Perhaps he would never know, though he liked to imagine that one day he would write to her and thank her for all she did for them while they were there—for all her family did.
“Dismissed!” the sergeant barked.
Wolf pushed a hand through his hair and turned to leave with the others, but the sergeant approached him unexpectedly. “Come to the office. There’s someone to see you.”
Wolf almost asked, Me? But it was best to nod and follow.
The main office was a small wooden building no more than ten feet square, thrown up in a hurry, with bare walls and a plank floor. The only pieces of furniture inside were a desk and chair, two file cabinets, and a spare wooden chair up against the wall. Wolf’s glance fell to it immediately, taking in Fannie as she rose from the seat.
She was more beautiful than ever. Though the summer was spent, her skin still wore a bit of its bronzing. She wore a mid-length navy blue dress with blue-and-white buttons marching down the front. The dress was adorned with pockets and a lacy white V-neck collar, and her slimness was accentuated by a belted waist. Her waves of hair were left long and loose in the back, but she’d swept the front to the side and pinned it in place. She clutched a white pocketbook before her, and her eyes were wide and dark upon him. Was she as nervous and glad to see him?
The question was instantly crowded out by others. Was anything wrong? Was her family all right? Had she come alone?
“I’ll wait outside, but the door will be open,” the sergeant said. He stepped through, pushing the door wide. Wolf could see by the man’s elbow he was barely out of sight and likely not out of earshot.
“Fannie.” He reached up to remove a non-existent hat and pushed his hand through his hair again instead. He badly needed a trim. He offered a smile and indicated the chair. “Please, do not stand.”
“It’s all right.” She waved away the offer. “This will only take a minute.”
A minute was not nearly long enough. He wanted to drink her in. He also wanted to talk about all that had happened and tell her how horribly sorry he was. So much had been left unsaid.
“I heard he’ll be locked up for a long time.” She didn’t need to mention Leo’s name.
Wolf nodded. “Ja. So they have just told us.”
“Oh. Well.” She fidgeted. “I just wanted to—”
“Fannie, I am—”
They spoke at once. Wolf nodded to her.
“I just wanted to thank you for what you did that day. It shouldn’t have taken me so long to come.”
He held up his hand. “No thanks are needed. I regret I did not stop him sooner. I am sorry I did not know about the gun.”
“Yes, well, we were all sorry about that.”
He didn’t know what to say. He wanted to say things that he’d let sift into his dreams, but they were foolishness by the light of day.
“The canning season will end soon. Do you know what you will do then?”
“They are sending us back to McCoy, and from there they will decide. It sounds as if we will be sent to the forests to cut trees.” He’d never imagined himself a lumberjack, not in all his years of teaching and study. He’d never imagined any of the things he’d been doing this summer. “Is your family well?”
She brightened. “Yes, they are well. Calvin is doing better. He’s working like crazy even.” She chuckled, a sound he missed terribly. “He can hear a little bit more now than he could at first, but he says his ears never stop ringing. He says it was better before when he couldn’t hear hardly a sound at all.”
“Perhaps it is a good sign that he will hear better again soon.”
She shrugged. “The doctor isn’t as positive as you, but we are hopeful.”
Wolf thought of Horst’s recent letter from Emma. “And your other brother? You’ve heard from him?”
Her face fell and she shook her head. “Not for some time, but the war is bound to end soon.”
His heart broke for her. “Ja.”
The sergeant peered around the corner as if to remind them of his presence. Fannie licked her lips, and Wolf knew his time with her was fleeting.
She looked at him again and her step brought the space between them closer. Her gaze reflected his own feelings with a look of mild desperation. She held out her hand. With only a glimpse at the doorway where the sergeant waited, he shook it, lingering in the touch of her fingers as long as he dared.
“Thank you, Wolf. Thank you for all your hard work. Tell the others for me, won’t you?”
Brazenness engulfed him. “Ja. I will write your family a letter from the woods camp if I am allowed and if you will not mind.”
“Yes. Yes, please, write to us. We would like to know that you and Rudy and the rest are faring well in our Wisconsin winter.” Her shoulders relaxed and she smiled. “You must be a good teacher, Wolf, for I have learned much from you this summer.”
“And you will be a fine teacher too, Fannie. Do not quit on your dream.”
“That’s enough.” The sergeant stepped aside, making way for him to depart.
“Ja. Danke, Sergeant.” He gave a clipped bow. “Danke for coming, Fraülein O’Brien. I am very glad you did.”
She nodded as he turned to go, his feet wanting only to remain glued to the wooden floor where he could breathe in her presence a little longer.
CHAPTER 23
Winter 1944–45
Fannie smiled as she held out the woman’s book. “There you go. Not due for three weeks.”
“That will give me plenty of time. Once Thanksgiving is over, we’ll be settling in for winter. Don’t expect it’ll be much of a Christmas this year. Thank you.” Without waiting for Fannie’s reply, she took her book and turned away.
“Goodbye now.”
As the woman departed, Fannie reached beneath the desktop for the cards that needed filing. Mrs. Calloway approached her. “You can leave those for me. You ought to be heading home. It looks like the snow is coming down a little heavier.”
“Are you sure? I don’t mind staying.”
“No, go ahead. I only walk home. You have a drive. I don’t want you sliding into a ditch.”
“All right. Thank you, Mrs. Calloway.”
“I’ll see you on Monday.”
Fannie nodded. She was happy to be getting more hours at work now that the harvest season was over and Calvin was taking up the task of managing things at home. Jerry and Patsy were back in school too. She wished she was. Be content, Fannie. You’ll get your old dreams back on track eventually. Hadn’t Wolf urged her not to give up on them? It’s just going to take a little longer. Think of Dale. He sure didn’t plan to be stuck in a prison camp in Germany all this time.
“Just don’t bother driving in if the weather is atrocious. Days like that are slow anyway.”
“I’ll be sure and remember.” Fannie finished tidying her workspace and headed to the back room to collect her coat, gloves, and galoshes, but a cloud had settled over her thoughts. It had been months since they’d heard from Dale. Were the Germans preventing their prisoners from sending letters? Mom wrote to him every few days. Fannie had written to him again last night, and she’d keep on writing no matter what, until she heard something.
Drawing up her wool collar and tucking her face against the gusting wet flakes, Fannie shuffled through a couple of inches of fresh snow to her car. She got inside and shuddered, then glanced at her wristwatch before firing up the engine. The kids would be getting out of school in half an hour. She could swing over past the country schoolhouse on her way home and pick them up so they wouldn’t have to walk. She wouldn’t have to wait but a little bit. That would give her time to run by the Cameron post office close to home and mail her letter to Dale. Ten minutes later, she dropped off her letter.
The postman looked at her over the rim of his glasses. “Something came in for you today after the carrier left with your regular mail, Miss O’Brien. Want to take it now or wait for it?”
“If it’s not inconvenient, I may as well take it now.” Her hopes aroused. Did he mean something for her particularly or something more general for her household? Finally news from Dale perhaps?
When he handed her the envelope, her curiosity increased because it was addressed to her, but she didn’t recognize the handwriting. She saw that it was postmarked Rhinelander, Wisconsin.
I don’t know anyone up there. Then her heart skipped a beat. She tucked the letter into her purse and thanked the postman before hurrying back out to her car. Though eagerness was killing her, she’d wait to read it when she was parked at the school. The car might be a little warmer by then. When she pulled up across the street from the one-room school, she left the engine running and slid her finger under the letter’s seal, drawing out a single sheet of paper written on both sides.
The return address in the upper right of the page confirmed her question, and a thrill shot through her.
Wolfgang Kloninger
Camp Au Train
Munising, Michigan
Dear Fannie,
Though you said I might write, I did hesitate to write you this letter, fearing you would rather not hear from me after the mishaps of August past. Yet I write, and I hope my words are well received.
We are well here, me and the men with me. We are sent up from Camp McCoy to cut pulp in this woods that is never-ending. We came by train, and it seemed we had gone forever, and we are told this is nothing. That the woods go all the way to the lakes they call Superior and Michigan and beyond. We have many woods around my city of Heidelberg, but I am not sure they span such a space as yours in Wisconsin and Michigan. There have been men working here all through the year. We are sent only to cut the trees and skid them out for winter. Then we will depart. Whether we are to return to Camp Barron or to other farms to work, time will tell. War dictates to all still.
It is not too cold yet. We have been able to buy socks and gloves with our earnings. We are thankful for good food. Some men in the area hunt for venison. Our guards have given us red cloth to wrap around our arms or hats so that we are not mistaken for deer in the woods as we work. Our guards go hunting too. Last week I was startled when one of them fired his submachine gun to bring down two deer that had roamed close to our work area. The men cheered, for we ate steaks with our potatoes that night.
Rudy is learning to cook. He has been assigned to working in the camp kitchen. He and the other cooks make us something called pasties. Do you know of them? They are like a meat pie with vegetables, folded and pinched closed. We often take them to the woods for our meals.
How is your mother? Have you been able to return to teacher’s college? I keep your family in my prayers and wish you Godspeed in all you do.
Wolf
Fannie pressed the letter to her chest and stared into the covering of snow already overlaying her windshield. He’d finally written! She’d not allowed herself to believe that he would. When the weeks passed after their brief conversation at the Barron camp in October and she didn’t hear from him, she presumed he’d only spoken in the moment. She’d forced her thoughts away from the prisoners. There was no point. They were Germans, after all. The enemy. They’d probably never see each other again.
Suddenly, the passenger door jerked open, startling her, and she quickly tucked the letter into the envelope. Patsy got into the back, then Jerry yanked the door closed and shook snow from his head, settling into the front seat beside her with a chaotic entrance.
Fannie snapped her purse closed over Wolf’s letter. “You found me.”
“Thanks for coming to get us.”
“I didn’t think we’d get snow, as nice as it was this morning.”
