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Konrad Residence
Berlin, Nazi Germany 
1941

 

Unterscharführer Klaus Griese stood in front of the bedchambers of his commanding officer, Standartenführer Rudolf Konrad, and drew a breath before staring at his boots, cursing at the scuff mark on the toe of his left foot. He knew exactly when it had occurred. Not five minutes ago at the foot of the steps leading into the large house, now the home to the colonel, his wife, and their two children.

A home that had only months ago belonged to a wealthy Jewish family that had wisely decided to leave Berlin, though he was certain the story he had overheard Colonel Konrad tell was false.

Jews were rarely given options these days.

In fact, he could honestly say he didn’t know a single Jew. He had growing up, though his parents hadn’t allowed him to befriend any. They were staunch supporters of Adolf Hitler and his philosophies, as was he, he supposed.

He was only nineteen. He had been in the Hitler Youth for as long as he could remember, and without the book smarts for a higher education, had enlisted after graduating under his father’s urgings. The very concept of fighting terrified him. He had always been a soft boy, never one for confrontation, never one to argue or challenge another. There wasn’t a trace of the alpha male in him that the Fatherland prized so much these days.

He was a follower.

And hoped to never be more than the corporal he now was.

This was the perfect assignment. Nowhere near the front, nowhere near the fighting, though the enemy had started infrequent bombing of the capital. It was something he never would have imagined. Berlin. Bombed. It was terrifying, and had shaken the population, as it had him. He had believed his commanders who had assured the enlisted men that the war would never reach Berlin, that life would go on as normal while victory after victory would be celebrated.

And that had been true until August 25, 1940.

Then everything had changed, and seemed to only be getting worse.

He had seen the footage of Warsaw and other cities that had fallen to the mighty Wehrmacht, and the rubble-strewn streets were disturbing. It hadn’t yet come to that, though Griese wondered how long it would be before it was.

He snapped to attention as the colonel’s eldest son, Joachim, only a few years younger than him, strode past in his Hitler Youth uniform, no hint of a smile, the fanaticism pure within him. Harsh words were snapped, aimed at the younger brother, who emerged from his bedroom, his own uniform in slight disarray. Joachim admonished Maximilian as he corrected the flaws, then the two of them marched toward the stairs, ready to greet the houseguests about to arrive.

He straightened himself then knocked on the door to Colonel Konrad’s bedchambers, listening for a response.

Nothing.

His heart rate picked up slightly, uncertain as to what to do. The colonel’s orders were clear.

“The guests are about to arrive. Get my wife.”

It would be a great embarrassment if the Colonel’s wife were not downstairs when the first guests arrived. In Germany, punctuality was praised, especially among the military elite. The cars bringing the guests would be lining up outside within minutes, and the hostess would be expected at her post, alongside her husband and their children.

He checked his watch.

There’s no time!

He knocked again, slightly harder.

And again nothing.

He bit down on his cheek, chewing on it for a moment as sweat dampened his upper lip.

Should I open the door?

He closed his eyes, sucking in a breath through his nose. The colonel was his commanding officer, not his wife. He had his orders, and they were crystal clear.

“Get my wife.”

He opened his eyes and gripped the doorknob, exhaling loudly as he pressed down on it and pushed the door open, slightly. He poked his head inside.

“Mrs. Konrad?”

Still nothing.

Though that wasn’t entirely true. He could hear music playing in the adjoining room. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him, then tentatively made his way toward the sound, the door ahead of him slightly ajar. He peered through the opening, spotting her sitting at a small table in the corner, her back to him.

Then gasped at what she held, his eyes shooting wide.

Her head darted up and she stared in the mirror in front of her as he jerked back and out of sight. He rushed for the outer door as his heart pounded in his ears. He grabbed the handle, opening it and stepping back into the hall as quickly as he could, closing the door behind him. He checked in both directions, ducking his head as one of the housekeepers crossed from one room to the next, glancing in his direction. He walked as rapidly as he could toward the stairs without looking suspicious, then turned the corner, risking one last glance behind him at Konrad’s bedchambers.

A head emerged from the now open door, peering out, in the opposite direction. He darted down the stairs and ran headlong into Colonel Konrad.

He nearly soiled himself.

“Sir, I’m sorry.”

“What’s with you, Corporal? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Sorry, sir, just, umm…”

“If you ever hope to be promoted, you’re going to have to be quicker on your feet.” Konrad pushed him gently aside. “Now, where’s my wife?”

“I-I tried knocking, but there was no answer.”

“Did you go in?”

The blood rushed from Griese’s face. If he were caught in a lie, he could be court-martialed. Yet what he had seen was unbelievable, unfathomable, and the truth would come out the moment Konrad spoke to his wife.

Unless she didn’t see me.

He brightened slightly. It was a possibility.

“I did, sir, just to poke my head in. I called her name but heard nothing. I didn’t want to intrude any further.”

Konrad patted him on the shoulder. “A wise move. If you had caught her in a compromising position, she’d insist I have you shot!”

Griese’s eyes widened, his jaw dropping, the humor lost on him in his state of panic.

Konrad chuckled, smacking him on the shoulder. “We’re going to need to work on that sense of humor, Corporal, if you’re going to work for me.”

“Y-yes, sir.”

“Now, to your post. Our guests will be arriving shortly. I’ll get my wife myself.”

“Yes, sir.”

Griese rushed down the stairs and out into the cool evening air, the sweat that soaked his body giving him shivers. In the distance, the narrow slits of headlights approached, and a quick check of his watch confirmed the guests were about to arrive exactly on time. He forced himself to stare ahead, to focus on his duties, but his stomach was already churning from fear at the turn his promising life had taken moments ago.

A life that was over if she had seen him.