THREE MONTHS LATER . . .
At first, August 13, 1961, felt just like any other summer Sunday morning. The sun peeked through Sabine’s window, waking her. She sat up on her cot and stretched. Soon she would have to be up and dressed, ready to walk with her mother to the church in the American sector. She shivered to think that Wolfgang the Watcher would surely notice and report them to the authorities again. Or worse. How long before they’d be arrested, the way so many others had been?
She hoped Erich would join them after his shift at the hospital. Puzzled, Sabine realized she didn’t hear any movement from her mother’s side of the room. No breathing or rustling. Nothing. She stared at the sheet that formed a curtain between their beds.
“Mama?” Sabine checked the mantel clock. Seven-thirty, already! “Are you awake?”
Still Sabine heard only steady snoring from the den, but that would be Uncle Heinz. More than once Sabine had thanked God that Oma Poldi’s flat had a bedroom (for Oma), a sitting room (for her and Mama), and a den (for Aunt Gertrud and Uncle Heinz). Erich kept a bedroll in the corner, but half the time he slept at the hospital. So it wasn’t unusual to see his roll folded and stowed in its place under the chair.
She reached for the curtain, not expecting to see her mother’s sheets and blankets folded and stowed.
“Mama?” she whispered again, wondering where she’d gone. Feet pounded up the hall stairs, then to their front door. The Vopo! But Erich burst in, huffing and puffing.
“Get dressed, Sabine!” he ordered. “You’re not going to believe what’s going on out there!”
“What are you talking about?” Still shaken by her vision of being hauled away by the police, Sabine didn’t move.
It took several tries for her breathless brother to explain in a way that made sense.
“Concrete posts. Barbed wire.” His cheeks still flamed bright red. “Vopos all over with machine guns. They’re running a fence right down the middle of Bernauerstrasse. They’re really doing it! Right down the middle of Berlin!
“The Volkspolizei have even set up water cannons and machine guns on rooftops to keep the crowds away. Some folks are just curious, but lots are angry.”
Sabine came to life and threw on some clothes, curious and a bit afraid to see the “People’s Police” in action. Outside, Erich led the way through a cluster of quiet neighbors. They joined their mother, who looked stunned.
“Oh, Sabine.” Frau Becker wrapped a protective arm around her daughter. “Sorry to leave you sleeping. Erich brought me down here about a half hour ago. I didn’t want to wake you up if it turned out to be nothing.”
But this was something. And Sabine could only stare in shock as the workers and Vopos and East German soldiers worked to put up an iron curtain between her world and the world outside.
“They cut off the U-Bahn at midnight,” Erich told her quietly, turning away from the glare of a Vopo nearby. “Shut it down. Plus all the telephones, and streetcars, even pipelines. Nothing passes from East to West anymore. Or from West to East, either.”
No more trips across the line to shop, to attend church, to visit friends, or even to hang out in the Tiergarten, a park Sabine loved.
“Too many people have managed to escape,” whispered an older man standing next to them. Sabine could see his pajamas peeking out from underneath his clothes, and his gray hair stood straight up. “That’s why they’re caging us in. Like some kind of zoo animals, we are.”
They all fell silent as a tractor lowered another concrete post into a hole in the middle of the street. Grim workers followed like spiders with their barbed-wire web, stringing it between posts set too close together for a person to squeeze through.
Sabine gasped as a half dozen West Berliners suddenly charged from the other side. The lead man held a shovel, as if to attack the new wall. Sabine gripped her crutch handles even more tightly.
“They’re going to get killed!” she whispered. But the charge didn’t even make it to the fence. Three Vopos with wickedly sharp bayonets on the ends of their Russian-made rifles blocked the advance. One of the soldiers shouted a warning before he fired into the air. And every eye on both sides of the new fence stared at the face-off. The six men skidded to a stop just inches from the tips of the bayonets.
The crowd gasped. Sabine’s mother covered her daughter’s hand with her own so tightly that Sabine could barely feel her fingers. Who would move first? A long moment later, the protesters raised their hands in surrender and backed away from the soldiers’ threats. Most of the crowd gathered on their side of the new wall backed away too.
“You’re not to go near those Vopos or that fence,” Frau Becker warned her children. “Do you understand?”
Sabine nodded silently and tried to hide her angry tears. Yes, she understood. All too well. But how could they just stand back and let this happen?
“Why are they doing this to us?” Her voice rose a notch. Her mother tried to comfort her and lead her back home. Sabine stiffened and planted her crutches on the sidewalk. “And why didn’t we leave before this thing went up?”
“Shh, Sabine. Now is not the time.”
“No, now it’s too late. We waited, and we waited. And now we’ll never get out of here.”
Erich joined their mother in steering Sabine back to the safety of home. But Sabine had to know.
“Why didn’t we just take Oma with us? Why did we stay here with her? Look!”
“Sabine, shush.”
“But, Mama! We should have — ”
“You’re getting worked up over something you can’t change. I thought you understood. Your brother can’t abandon his patients at the hospital. And Oma is very . . . determined to stay.”
Determined? More like stubborn.
“Because?” But Sabine knew the answer.
“Because God placed her in this neighborhood. Maybe us, as well. You know she never asked us to stay. But we agreed that we would never abandon Oma.”
Sabine knew Oma’s faith led her to do what she believed, and her mother did the same. She wondered if she could be as trusting. But still she could not help staring over her shoulder at the ugly, frightening fence going up in the middle of their neighborhood. She could not help staring at the soldiers who defiantly pointed their guns and bayonets at them — as if she and her neighbors had done something wrong!
She wanted to curl up and cry, to run at the fence — screaming — as the brave but foolish men had, to throw a brick at the wall. Something! Anything! Instead, she let her mother and brother lead her home like a lamb, back to the apartment where Oma Poldi probably still slept.
When they checked on Oma, she hadn’t even moved. A half hour later, Sabine left her mother and brother at the table to see if Oma wanted to eat yet.
“Oma?” she whispered, drawing a little closer. “Are you ready for a little breakfast?”
But Oma couldn’t answer, and one side of her face looked funny. As she tried to sit up and speak, she slid off her pillow and nearly tumbled over the side of her bed.
“Oma!” Sabine nearly screamed as she grabbed Oma’s sleeve to keep her from falling. “Erich! Come quick. There’s something wrong with Oma!”
Later that night, Sabine paced outside the doors of St. Ludwig’s Hospital, where Erich worked and Oma now rested. Not dead, Gott sei Dank. Thank God her mother had sent her in to see if Oma wanted breakfast.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come inside and wait?” Erich called through the entrance. She could see his face in the little pool of light from the entry lamps. When she shook her head and kept walking, he jogged out to join her.
“Look, I know how you feel about this place. The bad memories and everything. That’s why you won’t come in, right?”
Oh, and she hadn’t even told him the worst of it. She’d never told anyone about the worst days of her stay there. About the dark side of Nurse Ilse. About the beyond-painful therapy that the nurse seemed to enjoy. About the shouting and Nurse Ilse’s threats. About the closet. Especially not about the closet. Even now she couldn’t answer Erich.
“I’d probably feel the same way, if I were you.”
But Nurse Ilse was long gone. Why did Sabine still feel so afraid? Finally she stopped, leaning on her crutches. Her big brother was only trying to help. And she had to know.
“Is Oma going to die?”
“Come on inside. The doctor explained everything to Mutti.”
“I don’t want to go inside to talk to Mama. Is she going to die? Just tell me!”
Erich raked his light hair off his forehead and leaned against the brick building. Yes, the air felt warm, but not warm enough for him to sweat like this.
“All right, listen. She had a stroke, and she’s probably paralyzed. We don’t know if she’s going to live through the night. That’s why you need to come inside.”
“A stroke.” Sabine repeated the word, wishing this day had never happened. First the horrible fence, then Oma. And now she couldn’t stop shivering.
“So are you coming?” her brother asked.
Sabine crossed her arms and looked up at the hospital. A boy flattened his nose against a second-floor window, watching her through enormous black glasses. But a moment later, he’d disappeared. Erich looked up to see what had caused her questioning expression.
“Sabine?”
He hadn’t seen the boy, maybe about her age, but downright skinny. His haunted look made Sabine shiver even more.
“Yes, I mean — ” She stumbled over her words.
“So are you coming, or are you going to stand out here all night?”
When she studied the pain in her brother’s face, she knew what she had to do — never mind the ghost of Nurse Ilse. She took a deep breath, nodded slowly, and started for the door.