New assignments
Chapter 11
Rain assaulted the lounge window laterally that Tuesday morning. Outside, the traffic was scarce. Cyclists bent forward, pedalling hard but making little progress against the constant downpour. Pedestrians sought shop awnings and sprinted across the road as quickly as their umbrellas would allow. Hilda gazed up at the heavy grey clouds brooding over Hamburg. It may have been spring, but the budding tree branches drooped and the daffodils by the roadside were dejected and flattened.
She sat down to darn a sock, her glasses slipping to the end of her nose. The front door bell rang, but she was not expecting anyone. She put down her sewing carefully and stood up. She hesitated before answering the bell. Perhaps Eicke had brought some new instructions. That must be it, she decided.
The visitor knocked on the door. Hilda took a deep breath, relaxed her shoulders, fixed a welcoming smile on her face and turned the latch.
Standing before her was a uniformed soldier. She blinked in disbelief at the familiar face under the peaked cap, and her smile broadened.
‘Otto, my darling. Come in, come in, my dear.’
She closed the door behind him and their embrace lasted the best part of a minute.
‘How long can you stay? Are you on leave? Oh, my dear boy, it''s so good to see you!’
She held him away from her, peering at his face for signs of hunger or exhaustion. There were none; he had lost a little weight, but that served only to make him appear less boyish than she remembered. Her son was a man now as she showed her delight in muffled comments, said as he spoke about his leave.
‘I only have two days. But time for plenty of home cooking, I hope.’
‘Oh yes, Otto. Now put your bag down and come through. Tea?’
‘Er... coffee please.’
‘So, still in Baden-Baden?’ she asked, filling the kettle.
‘I’m not supposed to tell you.’
‘Oh, so not Baden-Baden. You have finished there?’
Otto entered the kitchen, looking thoughtful. Surely, he could trust his mother, Hilda thought.
‘Well, soon. My unit is still there for the time being. We train in other places too though. But Baden-Baden is the base, and I’ve been allowed five days leave.’
She turned to face him, delighted. ‘Wonderful, five days, that’s almost a week, darling.’
‘I''m afraid not, Mother. Transport to Hamburg was not easy, and I stopped in Andernach overnight. I’ve just got two days here, before I return.’
‘Andernach? Between Frankfurt and Cologne?’
‘Yes, visiting a friend.’ He looked at her expectantly; clearly more questions were in order. Thank goodness he had not lost his old friends, she thought.
‘A friend from Hamburg? Would I know him?’ she asked, stirring sugar into his coffee.
There was a brief silence before he replied. ‘It’s a girl. Gisela,’ he said a little sheepishly.
‘A girl? You must tell me about her. Where did you meet? What does she do?’ Her little boy had certainly grown up. She carried the tray through to the sitting room with a broad smile on her face, keen to learn more about this young woman. Like all mothers, she had always harboured hopes that her son would one day settle down with a nice girl and raise a family of his own. But what would she make of Gisela?
‘So, tell me how you met her?’
‘OK. You remember me telling you about my friend, Paul Huber? I think you met him once.’
‘Yes, the redheaded one?’
‘Yes, my bunk mate. We’re the best of friends. Gisela is his sister. I went to visit Paul and we went out a few times together, all three of us. Then, on the last day before I came home, I took her out alone.’
‘So, Gisela Huber. How old is she?’
‘She’s eighteen, like me.’
She recalled being eighteen herself. A student just beginning to feel the first rush of love.
‘And what’s her job?’
‘She’s a personal secretary.’
‘I see. In the family business in Andernach?’
Otto fell silent again for a few moments.
‘Secretary to SS-Unterscharfuher Soren Böhm of the 9th SS Panzer Grenadier.’
That was not at all what Hilda was expecting. Eicke would probably approve, though. ‘So that’s where your unit is, Andernach,’ she surmised.
‘You have to promise on point of death, both mine and yours, not to tell anyone. Yes, Andernach is where we have been training when we were not in Baden-Baden.’
Dynes and Thornton would be pleased with this information. Hilda tucked it away in her mind.
‘Is it really such a big secret?’
‘Andernach is the espionage centre. We learn how to recognize the enemy within.’
It seemed they had both been pupils of the dark arts. ‘The enemy within?’
‘Yes, traitors. You know, mother, Jews, homosexuals, vagrants, gypsies. Everyone who does not support Germany’s aspirations.’
A chill ran down Hilda''s spine. ‘That’s the work of the Gestapo, surely?’
‘Yes, that’s true, but they need information from all kinds of sources,’ said Otto.
Her son had become an agent of the state. Perhaps it was inevitable, after the Hitler Youth and Eicke''s influence, but no less frightening for that.
‘You realize, your aunt Renate – her grandmother was a Jew?’
There was a moment of complete silence broken only by the grandfather clock striking the half hour. Hilda held her breath; would this make him realize how complicated reporting people might become?
Otto’s eyebrows gathered in disbelief. ‘No! Aunty Renate? She can''t be Jewish?’
‘No, she isn''t. Her mother married a gentile, and Renate married your father’s brother. So not all Jews are really Jewish, are they? It''s important to remember that.’
Otto stared at her. ‘I promise I will not divulge that. I promise not to inform about her. But I wish you had not told me.’
Otto had clearly been indoctrinated by a system she had no control over. They finished their coffee in silence.
After supper she suggested a game of chess, hoping it might revive happy childhood memories for Otto. He had not forgotten the moves he learnt from his father, who had taught him much else besides. Willy was a keen player, and chess was his second love. Hilda, of course, was his first, as he told her often. She herself had never managed to beat him; she never used to be able to concentrate for long enough. The practice the game had given her was now proving a valuable asset; as a spy she had to pay attention to the smallest detail and stay alert at all times.
It was almost midnight before they turned out the light in the lounge prepared for bed. She heard Otto linger in the hall, but thought nothing of it. It was good to have him home. Soon he was in his bedroom, the lights were out and Hilda fell asleep as content as could be, given what she had learned about her son that evening.
She made porridge the following morning, and they sat in the dining room with their steaming bowls before them. Otto spoke diffidently.
‘Last night, before going to bed, I loitered in the hall.’
‘Yes, I heard you. Looking at the paintings?’
For a moment Otto seemed lost for words. ‘No, Mother. I opened the sideboard drawer and what did I find but a German Civilian Eagle. Is it yours? How did you come by it?’
My God, how silly of her. How foolish she had been. She should have hidden it in her bedroom
‘If I were to tell you, Otto, my life would be at risk,’ she said, looking him straight in the eye.
Otto smiled as she threw his own words back at him from the previous day.
‘Is it something to do with your joint nationality?’ he surmised.
‘You''ve been well trained, Otto. Let’s leave it at that.’
Would that satisfy him? She found she was holding her breath.
‘But it’s an award. How did you earn it?’ he asked.
She stood up and moved behind him, laying her hands on his shoulders.
‘Too many questions, young man. I obviously pleased my superiors.’ She moved back round the table and raised a finger to her lips. Otto could be proud of her without knowing why. He would find out one day.
Otto prepared to leave the following morning. She hugged him tightly as they stood in the hallway; he might look like a smart army officer, but when she closed her eyes he was still a schoolboy in his trench coat.
‘To Andernach, then?’
‘Yes, then back to base.’
‘I’d like to meet Gisela one day,’ she said.
He smiled broadly. ‘I''d like that too. If all goes well, you will certainly get to know her.’
‘Be happy, Otto.’
‘Thanks, Mother. You know I will always love you.’
‘I hope I’ll be your second love one day, Otto. Now off you go, and keep safe.’
She closed the door and went to the lounge window to watch him depart. Otto walked down the drive but never looked back, preoccupied with thoughts of Gisela, she hoped. She remembered that feeling very well from thirty years ago. First loves were so precious. Her eyes followed him until he was out of sight, and she wondered when and where they would next meet.
Chapter 12
Otto’s visit had given her immense pleasure. He was, after all, her only son. Hilda’s main fear was that war was becoming increasingly inevitable, and she was afraid she would be unable to remain in close contact with him through such a troubled time. She had no idea what would trigger the conflict, but she had no doubt that it was Hitler’s intention. All she could hope was that it would be over very quickly: the best result for everyone.
Two letters dropped on the hall carpet that morning: her passes. One was to be kept safe till it was required when she returned to Britain; she was to the other carry at all times, as a guarantee that she would be allowed to travel without restriction. She wondered what travelling she might be expected to do in Germany.
On closer inspection, she saw that her British card was in the name of Hilda Campbell. She looked again at the German pass. Frau Hilda Richter. She decided to telephone Eicke.
‘My passes have arrived,’ she told him.
‘Good. I meant to tell you that in Britain, of course, you must be called by your maiden name, Miss Campbell. It is a Scottish name, I believe. Not so?’
‘Oh yes, very much so,’ she replied, smiling to herself.
‘You will soon get used to it again. Your name Frau Richter must never exist in Britain.’
‘I can’t change my name in Elgin, or when I''m speaking to my mother but rest assured I won''t speak a word of German in Great Britain.’
‘You will not be posted to England or Scotland just yet.’
That surprised her. If she wasn''t to return home, where might Eicke place her?
‘Not back to Scotland?’ she queried.
‘No. For tour next assignment, next month, I want you to go to school. A school for spies. You have much to learn, and time is of the essence.’
‘Next month?’
‘Yes, July third.’
‘And where is this? Am I allowed to ask?
‘Bautzen.’
‘Bautzen? Where’s that?’
‘Take the train to Berlin and then on to Dresden. We’ll give you a rail pass. You will be collected from the station. Any more questions?’
‘How long will I be there? And can I tell my son?’
‘You will be there for six weeks. At the end of that period you return to Hamburg, and I shall make arrangements for Otto to have some leave so he can spend some time with you. I will also ensure his letters are sent to you. But your movements are secret. You can tell Otto only the barest details, and not about Bautzen. You understand?’’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘In difficult times, we have to make sacrifices.’
She wondered if by difficult times Eicke meant war.
‘So I make my way there on the third?’
‘Yes. Your bank account has been funded for that period, and you will be catered for and given the use of a launderer and cook.’
‘Then I look forward to the training.’
July 3rd was not long in coming. She spent some time cleaning the house, not knowing when she’d return, and she wrote a lengthy letter to her mother about how busy she was, of course without saying what she would be doing.
On the day to go to Bautzen she was awake at dawn. The sun shone brightly, and trees left shadows on the pavements. Swallows darted with effortless style around the city then lodging in gutters, and Hilda was ready to travel.
The railway station, Hamburg Hauptbahnhof, was busy. Numerous naval personnel were making their way to submarines and battleships at ports along the north coast. Soldiers with different shoulder flashes consulted the overhead destination boards, and debonair Luftwaffe officers seemed aloof, probably longing for the day when they could take to the skies. The multitude of uniforms was strangely comforting. She felt that the troops were confident and prepared for what would soon happen. Other people in the station looked more forbidding, and it was not too long before an official approached her.
‘Madam, your ticket please,’ he said, holding out his hand.
She showed him the travel voucher she had been given.
‘Where are you travelling to?’
‘Berlin.’
‘What business do you have there?’
She took out her new pass and held it out to him.
He hesitated for a moment, then his manner changed; suddenly he was all politeness. ‘Very well, madam, have a safe journey.’
She breathed a sigh of relief and slalomed her way through other passengers to platform four.
Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of a commotion. Three men in trilby hats, with pistols drawn, were attempting to detain a family set to travel. The father protested loudly but no one came to his aid. Many just watched as plain-clothes policemen came to assist in the family’s detention; moments later, they were dragged off the concourse and order reigned again as if nothing had happened.
‘Jews,’ a man sneered. ‘They would have been caught at the port of embarkation. Cuxhaven probably.’
Eicke’s men, Hilda thought.
The change at Berlin was straightforward; there were fewer men in military attire, but perhaps there were even more secret police eyeing every passenger, especially anyone who was nervous or tense. The age of the traveller was another factor, and Hilda wondered if she attracted less attention because of hers. Perhaps if she let some longer strands of grey hair drop from under her hat, she might just gain a little more respect.
In the Dresden train, her seat was by the window. She pulled up the leather strap and lowered the window slightly, to feel fresh air, looking round at her companions to see if they objected. No one seemed to, though everyone did seem a little suspicious of everyone else. She avoided getting into conversation lest anyone asked unwelcome questions.
The train set off, and she gazed out of the window. Soon the industrial landscape was left behind and green fields flew by. How nonchalant the cows were, ignorant of the way the country was heading. Hens and chicken scurried as the train approached their fences. Laundry danced in the breeze, and an occasional horse-drawn milk carriage seemed to be stationary as they sped by. Inside the carriage Hilda was calmed by the quiet, but she wondered if she would ever reach British shores again, now that she had to all appearances tied her colours to the German mast. She knew the next few weeks would bring more training, and that it was crucial to keep her Scottishness under wraps.
She realized the elderly man sitting opposite her had spoken.
‘I said are you visiting family?’ he asked again.
‘No, I''m on business.’
‘I see.’
‘And you?’ she asked, partly to distract him from questioning her further.
‘Visiting my granddaughter, Elise. Her father is away in the army and her mother has her hands full. I thought I’d come and assist.’
She smiled. Some people still had an ordinary domestic life. She could see him reading to his grandchildren on his knees. ‘I am sure you will be made very welcome.’
‘And you have family?’ he asked.
‘Yes, a son. My husband died.’
‘My condolences. He will avoid the troubles.’
‘The troubles?’
‘You don’t think there will be a war?’ he asked?
‘It is looking like it will be soon,’ she replied.
This man clearly wanted to talk, but she was already finding it a strain. She turned away and looked out of the window. It was late afternoon, the sun still shone brightly and the air warm and clear. She closed her eyes but she could not sleep.
At Dresden she gathered her suitcase and belongings and left the train. The car journey to Bautzen was comfortable until they reached a minor road. Three miles or so later a series of huts came into view and the car came to a halt. So this was to be her accommodation for the next few weeks. Her heart sank, but she was determined not to let it get her down.
The female quarters were in the last of the huts; the driver told her to go there and she would be met. She made her way over and saw a woman at the window. She smiled, and Hilda smiled back as she opened the cabin door.
‘Hi, I guess you are Hilda?’ the other woman said in an American accent. ‘I’m Nancy Krause.’
‘Hilda Richter,’ she said, wondering if she had been led into a trap already.
‘So we’re here to learn the black crafts, yeah?’
‘If you say so,’ she said, unsure how to respond.
‘This is your room. Mine’s at the other end. We’ve got a kitchen and bathroom. That’s about it.’
‘How long have you been here?’ Hilda asked.
‘Sailed into Hamburg a week ago; got down here three days ago.’
‘Sailed from where?’
‘New York, of course.’
‘So you are American?’ Though it was quite obvious.
‘Sure thing. Yes, naturalized in 1934, but still a Nazi at heart. So, you from England?’
She hesitated. ‘No, Hamburg.’
She froze. She saw the other woman think, and search for an explanation. ‘Come on, you can tell me,’ Nancy cajoled. ‘You’re going to be sent home, like me. So where’s home really?’
It dawned on Hilda that they were here to be trained as spies, then sent to their homelands on espionage duties.
‘Scotland. That’s where I was brought up.’
‘Then I guess we’ll get on real fine. My German is rusty these days and I guess yours is pretty good. You can help me if I’m not picking up on the instructions.’
‘When will the course start?’ Hilda asked.
‘Tomorrow at eight prompt.’
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Ron