It did not take long for the authorities to begin looking for me. I was a fugitive and always on the run. Months went by. And then a year.
Afraid that I would bring Cecilia troubles, I sneaked into Switzerland, where I would be safest for the time being. Though they fortified their borders with their home armies, the Swiss were neutral in the conflict. Despite that, I knew they would not take kindly to a wanted deserter. No matter where I was, I had to be careful.
As another autumn descended on the mountains, I knew that my means of obtaining supplies, of staying warm, of staying alive at all, were running low. In a scrapped Swiss newspaper, I read we were in trouble in the war as well. Battles to the south were leading to the deaths of locals, and our eastern front—the one our Standschützen had to abandon to face Italy—was being brutally defeated by the Russians.
I worried about Max Junior. I wanted word. And I was lonely for him. I had less than a month before winter would make the mountains impassable. I had to make a decision: stay hidden in Switzerland the entire winter and be closed off to Cecilia and all news, or find somewhere where I had easier access to both. I decided to make one last journey across the border with the idea that my intimate knowledge of Graun’s Head meant I had at least one or two caves I could hide in for the winter. And access to the inn and its goods in a pinch.
I stopped at the Müller farm to see Cecilia that night. We made love, and she shared her fear for my life.
“Fritz, what should happen after the war?” she asked. “You will never be able to show your face here again. What kind of future do you imagine for any of us?”
“You could come to Switzerland with me. You and Elisabeth.”
“How, Fritz? How will we get passes to get into Switzerland?”
With enough money, I could bribe any official. I could buy my way in, buy our freedom to be together. I needed the cigarette money.
“Leave it to me, Cecilia. The three of us will all be together when this is over.”
“And little Hubert?”
Her son, the one who looked exactly like Eberhardt. I sighed. “And little Hubert.”
“What if we lose the war?”
I kissed the top of her head and pulled her closer to me. “We won’t. It will be over soon. You’ll see.”
Just as Marius always said. Only it had not ended soon. Marius. Cecilia said he was writing home. He was still alive. And right there, I began fashioning a plan for smuggling cigarettes into Switzerland, wondering why I had not thought of it before. Sure, it was dangerous. The customs officials were not wont to fool around. There were plenty of smugglers who had tried to run off and had been shot dead on the run. Caught alive, they were fined an extortionate amount. Unable to pay, a smuggler faced a long prison sentence.
Marius had been a fool to keep things safe. The real risk was for his connections on the Mediterranean route. Getting the tobacco past the customs guards on the borders was the tough part. Once the tobacco was within the empire, we had little risk of running into controllers. Our little enterprise had worked pretty smoothly up to now. I yearned to have our operation back, to have money in my pocket, but also, I saw a way to make a living with Cecilia later on.
“Do you know Marius’s mother well?” I asked her.
She shrugged. “Well enough for what?”
“To find out what he’s writing? To ask for news?” I suspected that Marius would report on the other boys from our battalion, maybe about Max Junior, Hans Glockner, and Jonas Thaler. I also made her recite a piece of news that maybe Marius’s mother would write, get Marius to understand what I was hoping to eventually do.
The next day, I stayed near the Müller farm and waited until dark for Cecilia. She did not come right away. I saw her turn off the lamps, and I expected her in the barn just after. Impatient, I went to the door, and it swung open. She stood in the dark and then stepped out, hurrying me to the barn. Only then did she face me.
“What kept you?” I asked.
“Fritz, I’m sorry.” Her teeth chattered.
It was October, and the air was cold, but she was well wrapped.
“Sorry for what? Did you not meet her?”
Cecilia nodded in the darkness, and I heard her take a breath. “You were right. Marius does write about all the other boys. A few weeks ago… Oh, Fritz.” Her breath hitched, and she bit her lip.
“Cecilia? What is it?”
“It’s Hugo. He’s been wounded. He’s not doing very well.”
I hugged her to me, relief washing over me. “Then we must say a prayer for him.”
“Fritz.” Cecilia raised her face to me. She hugged me tighter. “That’s not… Oh God!” She covered her mouth with her hands and sobbed.
I shook her. “Tell me. Now.”
When she sobbed harder, I raised my hand to knock her back to her senses, but then she looked up at me.
“Max Junior…” she said into her palms.
I stepped away. “Max Junior what?”
She wrapped an arm around my waist, and her head pressed against my body, just below my rib cage. “He’s been killed, Fritz. I’m so sorry.”
I grabbed her arms and pulled her off. “And you tell me about Hugo first?” I cried.
“I was…I was frightened!”
I went cold. She was pushing me up against her again, her hands on my back as if to hold me up, but I felt only cold.
“I have to go to the inn.”
“What? Why? You’ll get caught. Don’t put yourself in danger.”
“Jutta does not know whether I’m alive or dead. The inn will go to her in the case of Max Junior’s and my deaths. She has to know that I am still alive.”
“Why? What do you want with the inn? I thought we’re going to Switzerland. You cannot have both the inn and a life with me in Switzerland.”
I snatched her hands in mine and squeezed hard. “Right now,” I hissed, “it’s all I have.”
She stared at me. “All you have?”
“Until you are with me and safe, I have only the inn to count on.” She had made it clear that she would not abandon Eberhardt’s family in the middle of a war. I had told her to call the eldest daughter back, but Cecilia had refused. Until she committed to me, I was going to make sure the only security I had left remained in my possession.
Though we lay together in the hay that night, Cecilia in my arms, the grief and doubts gnawed at my soul. I did not sleep.
❖
It rained the next morning, and dressed in a heavy sheepskin wrap Cecilia had crudely pieced together for me, I made the long way around back into the Reschen Valley. It took me the entire day, as I knew that the patrols were thicker now and the chances of my running into someone I knew—someone who would take pity on my situation—were slim. When I spotted patrols, I was above them on the ridge to Graun’s Head. My instincts had been right. These were Prussian soldiers mixed in with our local units now. There would be no mercy for a deserter if they caught me.
A light snow was falling by the time I reached the highest point. I began my descent at the top of the Karlinbach, which dropped quickly into a deep gorge as a waterfall. I paused when I saw tracks in the mud. Someone else had been here, and I scanned the boulders above me. Someone was using this route, and pretty regularly, as I found a well-enough worn path. I scrambled down along the waterfall, slipping on icy rocks, wet from the spray, and more than a few times, I had to keep myself from stopping, afraid that if I let in to the exhaustion, I would fall asleep and never awake. The fear of running into someone kept me alert enough to push on.
It was dark in the gorge when I reached a point where the Karlinbach flowed into Graun Lake. I was desperate to get out, afraid that at nightfall hypothermia would set in. My grief added to my weakness. It took all my will to stay awake and warm enough until I could afford to enter town in safety.
I approached the inn from the southern road. As I had expected, the lamps shone in the Stube, and when I walked to the opposite end of the house, I found them also lit in the apartments where Jutta and Alois slept.
I backed away far enough to be able to look into the room, hoping to catch a glimpse of Jutta, get myself oriented as to who was where. I could not just walk in. I kept myself hidden near the woodpile and watched. Finally, the door to the apartments opened and Jutta came in, followed by a man. I only needed another two seconds to recognize Johi Thaler. And he was holding my son in his arms, bouncing him up and down, making Alois laugh. Jutta turned up the lamp, and even from the distance I stood, I knew that I had never seen that woman more at peace. When Johi handed her Alois, he kissed the boy on top of the head, placed a hand on Jutta’s upper arm, then took a seat at my table as Jutta went into Alois’ room.
I clenched my fists, felt the knife in its sheaf hanging from my belt. This would not do. This would just not do.
The rain broke again, heavy this time. Tomorrow, Graun’s Head would be buried in snow. I was trapped.
I glanced at the back of the house and saw that the kitchen was dark. The cellar, where we kept our preserves and meat, was just below the window where Johi sat. I could try and break into it, but I was certain he would hear me. He would come and check. Or I could go to the back door and break into the kitchen, where I would find bread and soup, probably still warm.
My stomach grumbled, and my bones ached at the thought of another cold night. I shivered, considering my options again. If I lured Johi into the cellar, I would have to fight him. At that moment, I wanted to kill him. Option two was to get something warm in me, find a spot in our stable, and stay sheltered. I had other uses for Johi. I opted for the latter.
In the kitchen, I took the whole pot of soup, half a chicken, and a loaf of bread from the pantry. I sneaked into the stables, made myself a pile in the hay, and slept like the dead. I was awake before the cock crowed, however, prepared to make my escape before anyone could find me.
❖
The Thalerhof was in the hamlet of Arlund just above Graun and, for anyone taking the normal route, on the way to Graun’s Head. In the summers, a number of families took their livestock to the alpine meadows below the Head.
I waited above Johi’s family farm, in the field where the Glockner sheep were usually put out to pasture in the spring and early autumn. As soon as I saw Johi and his parents getting to work around the Hof, I made my way down, making sure I caught Johi when old man Thaler was not around.
The weather had cleared, and Johi was leading a horse out into the corral behind the barn. By the sun in the sky, I figured he would be heading into the house to have his breakfast next.
“Psst! Johi!”
The horse whinnied, and he jumped. “Jesus, Fritz. Is that really you?”
From his expression, I must have looked horrifying in Cecilia’s makeshift coat. And I was probably less than easy to look at with my longish hair and untrimmed beard.
“Yeah, it’s me. It’s really me.”
He did not seem to know what to do, shifting on one leg and another. I let him squirm.
“Are you all right, Fritz? Where have you been? Jutta’s—your family’s—been worried about you.” He paused. “You know Max Junior—”
“Is dead. That’s right. But I’m not.”
I heard someone moving in the barn. We both looked at the outside wall.
“Nobody’s to know I’m here,” I said. “You understand?”
“Where are you staying? How are you…” His eyes roved over me. “Getting on?”
“Johi, I’m here about the cigarettes. I’m not here to discuss how or how I am not doing. Who is your supplier?”
“The one you set up for Marius.”
“In Borgo Sacco?”
“Yes. Except that they moved the factory and all their employees to Linz. Their factory was heavily damaged.”
This explained why he was still using the old north-to-south trekking route. “When are you picking up your next supply?”
He looked astonished and then embarrassed. “In a week again. But, Fritz, how do you plan to get around on the route without getting caught?”
I sneered. “I’m not delivering them here. You’re going to bring me the next supply of cigarettes, and you’re going to give me the money you’ve made so far. Fair and square.”
Johi frowned. “Fritz, I’m working for Marius. He’s not going to be very—”
I moved towards him, unsheathing my knife. He stayed where he was, but I could see he was itching to run. “I’m your new boss. Or do you want Jutta to witness what I do with an adulterer?”
Johi looked stunned, and I raised the knife to just beneath his jaw.
“You will bring me the money. All of it. Right after breakfast. Or I will come in the night like a thief and cut your throat. Do we understand one another?”
His breath came in short bursts, and I pressed the point of the knife at his jugular, just before it could break the skin.
“Fritz, I don’t have any money here.”
“Where is it?” I pressed the knife deeper. A small red knick appeared.
Johi grew frantic. “I bring everything to Jutta. Fritz, I give it all to her. For Alois.”
I lowered the knife. Insolent bastard. Who did he think he was? My heart thrashed in my chest, and I struggled to remain in control.
“You’ll deliver the money to me at the Glockner hut, the one they have for the hay. There’s a stone beneath the slats. Leave it there.” The shepherd’s hut was just up the hill behind me. “Tonight. Go and get it from her, and bring it to me.”
Johi nodded, but I could see the murderous look in his eye. I did not care. I was getting what was mine, and I knew he would tell Jutta I was still alive.
A door slammed on the other side of the barn. A woman’s voice—Johi’s mother, most likely—called for him.
“I’m coming.” Johi rubbed a fingertip on his throat. His finger came away with a small red line of blood. “Jesus, Fritz.”
“I’ll be waiting. And no funny business. No going to the authorities, Johi.”
“Fritz, I wouldn’t—”
I pointed a shaking finger at him. “Maybe not you. But Jutta would. You tell her. Tell her I’ll cut your throat if anything happens.”
“All right, Fritz. I will.”
I looked around, and something caught inside my rib cage. I stared at the knife, then back at him. “Nothing’s ever going to be the same, is it? Marius always said things would go back to the way they were, but they can’t now, can they?”
Johi shook his head slowly.
I slipped my knife back into its sheaf. “How’s Jonas?”
Johi stared in disbelief.
I was simply trying to get back on normal footing. “How is he?”
“He’s gone, Fritz.”
“What? When?”
Johi shrugged. “About three months ago.”
I licked my lips. They were cracked. “I’m sorry to hear that, Johi. Hey, no grudges, all right? I’m just so…I’m devastated about my best brother. And Jutta and I, well, you understand how it is between us.”
Johi nodded, but I could still see he was wary of me. I stuck out my hand. “No hard feelings, right?”
He took it but did not meet my eye. I bent down to catch his look. “Don’t forget the money, right?” My hands were shaking against my thighs, and my teeth chattered. “And maybe, you know, a bottle?”
The look of pity he gave me made me turn away. I left him like that. Damned if I was going to wait in the Glockner hut though. I headed for the cave I knew and waited to see whether Jutta and Johi would send the authorities after me. But that night, when I came back to the hut, there was a bag beneath the slats next to the rocks. Food and a good sum of money, warm clothes, and a bottle of Jutta’s hazelnut schnapps. Inside was a folded piece of paper. Below the name of the person in Nauders, Johi had written me a note.
She doesn’t know you’re here. Leave it that way.