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Miller H Caldwell, click here
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Will be a film in 2017
Chapter 9
After breakfast, as the winds began to make the sycamore branches dance, I telephoned Dynes. It was not convenient for him. He asked to meet me at the entrance to the churchyard at 10:15 that morning.
I could not get over the near miss of the Browns with my British handlers at the performance the previous night. I played through the evening in my mind. Why could I see the Browns but not Dynes? At least I had some forewarning but it did upset me at the time and those whose musical knowledge was superior, would have noticed the unnecessary nervous trill I played on my oboe.
I asked my mother for a shopping list and set off with my basket at ten exactly. It took only five or so minutes to get to the church and as I approached the open gate to the cemetery, I saw Dynes seated underneath the oak tree.
‘Good morning.’
‘Good morning. Shall we walk down this line of gravestones?’
The ash walkway contrasted with the cut grass edge. A dusting of frost still remained on both in sporadic amounts. I read each stone as I passed by noting the era of the 1850s was well represented, punctuated by the sadness of children’s premature deaths.
‘Why were the Browns in town?’
I smiled. ‘I'll tell you what I got out of meeting them, a packet of pounds sterling and some intelligence for you.’
Dynes laughed. ‘This espionage pays well,’ he said bringing a brown envelope from his jacket’s breast pocket. ‘Here, your earnings from us. I hope they are at least compatible.’
‘What a coincidence. Perhaps you should stagger my next payment or better still, let my bank manager.....there won’t be another payment, will there?’
A sudden realisation of who my imminent masters would be once more, made me realise I had seemed greedy. Dynes chose to ignore the question.
‘When are you going back to Germany?’
‘In three weeks’ time.’
‘Hmm three weeks. Have you told your mother?’
‘Yes,’ I replied.
‘How did she take it?’
‘I am not sure if she realises the gravity of the situation. She sees my return home as my need to be in touch with Otto, Karl and Renate.’
‘Your return home?’
‘When you live in two places, both are home, surely?’ I could see Dynes thinking through what seemed to me to be an obvious statement. As usual his looks never truly betrayed his questions.
‘You mentioned some intelligence?’
‘The Browns are heading north they said. I imagine they will be heading for Scapa Flow.’
‘They won’t leave it alone will they? Homage to the last war. Perhaps they are going to resurrect the German Navy.’
‘Perhaps they have already. My understanding is that they are going to assess Orkney’s use for their navy,’ I said.
‘Leave that one to me. We will be monitoring them closely.’
We proceeded down the second line of tombstones. Leaves trembled in the breeze amid the erect stone monuments. The occasional posy of winter pansies and holly brightened up the graveyard. I stopped at one gravestone to pay my respects.
‘Your family?’ Dynes asked.
‘No, a soldier friend of my father who was killed in the Asante wars of the West African Gold Coast.’
‘Did you know him?’
‘Just a little. I would have been about ten or eleven years of age when I last saw him. As you can see he was killed in the Ashanti wars in 1900.’
‘National service is ingrained in your family.’
‘Yes. So it would seem.’
‘That brings me to consider giving you some combat training. It has been on my mind. You may find yourself in some tricky positions when you return to Germany.’
‘Can you arrange that, as soon as possible?’ I asked feeling sure this was in my best interests.
Eicke was pleased to learn I was keeping myself fit through long walks and swimming. Getting around was sure to produce facts. The facts I gave were of little consequence. He received some appropriate newspaper headlines I had read and that kept him satisfied. His demands were general. The truth was the training was gruelling; exhausting and at times painful.
I was taken to Cultybraggan camp near Comrie in Perthshire where I crawled through bogs, climbed ivy roots to gain entry to an empty house; learned to use a handgun; route marched and orientated up hills and down glens. The ten days seemed so long and I began to count down the last few days towards the end. I met several men and women who kept to themselves and were probably trained not to ask questions. Nor did anyone ever ask why I was there, a woman of almost fifty one years of age, hardly an active service woman.
Mother knew there was more to my life by the time I shared my last day with her. We played rummy and drank tea as my luggage was already packed and my one way ticket secure in my purse.
‘We may never see each other again,’ she said.
‘Let’s not talk that way, mother. Life is stronger than you might imagine. There are good people around.’
‘And there are some whose ambitions are out of control.’
I nodded and as I raised my head I saw the winter sun was out, casting a long tree shadow on the lawn.
‘What about a walk in the garden?’
Mother donned a winter coat and gloves and a scarf which did not match or contrast but performed its warming duties. I arrived with my Brownie box camera.
‘Let me take you over here beside the plum red flowering berberis. Don’t stand too near or it will prick you,’ I warned. ‘Now over here with the hotel as the backdrop.’
From the hotel back window, I saw Fergus looking at us. He must have seen what we were doing.
He must have run down the staircase at speed missing every second step and then sprinted along the corridor to the back door. He arrived out of breath.
‘Here .....let me take a........picture of you both. How many pictures have you left..... in the spool?’
‘Catch your breath Fergus first. It’s a twenty four picture film and I’ve got ten left to take.’
Fergus got us shoulder to shoulder and again in the same picture close-up. He found angles and colour with us smiling at him till he announced there were only three photos left.
‘Glad you told me. Otto must see one with you alone; one with mother and then with myself and you.’
Darkness fell soon after in this mid winter day and I went outside once more after supper to gaze at the stars. I wondered if Otto was seeing the same stars or if Karl and Renate would see them. I pretended they did. When would I return to Elgin? Would mother still be here? If the hotel was sold where would I find myself? It made me feel as if an embracing, protecting Scottish arm was slipping from my shoulders. Or was it that I was already adjusting to being back in Germany?
Aberdeen harbour contained the ship which would take me back to Hamburg. It was the SS Columbus which had flying on its stern, the swastika. From the moment I stepped onboard I would be a German widow once again. I would resume my Frau Richter persona.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Mr Thornton appear. He greeted me.
‘A final farewell?’ I asked
‘I hope not. I hope you will be back in a year if not before. We need to know what’s happening in Germany. You are in a prime position. You must keep alert; note everything; every detail. Make room in your memory. Do you have your radio with you?’
‘No, I deliberately left it hidden in the hotel. It is to tempt the German Abwehr to let me return to use it.’
‘I see. You may be given a new one and to contact German agents in Britain.’
‘I hope not but if I do, I will stay loyal to Britain. I know it will not be easy, but I will do the best I can. I assure you.’
‘Of course, I expect nothing else. It only leaves me to wish you well and be safe.’
I suddenly felt a shiver down my spine. I knew I had been very forgetful. I opened my bag and gave him the film. 'Can I ask you to have this spool developed? Send one copy of each of them to me and the other to my mother.'
'And not one to me or Mr Dynes?'
‘Not unless you wish photos of the hotel and its occupants,' I laughed.
I was just about to thank him when he lunged forward to give me a kiss. But it wasn’t. It was a firm hug and from that awkward heels-in-the-air moment, I thanked him then gathered my hand luggage and made my way to the gangway.
No sooner had we left the sanctuary of Aberdeen harbour than the waves took hold of the ship. Fortunately my cabin was mid ship which made its longitudinal axis bobbing minimal. My nerves got the better of me. Had I made the right decision? How would I find Germany now that its fervour knew no bounds? Would I be able to cope with remaining a foreigner in the minds of nationalism? Yet I should be part of that having spent most of my life in the country. Only thoughts of seeing Otto and my family again seemed to keep me comforted that night as my bed rolled while sleep did not wish to overcome me. I looked at my black box but knew it to be safer in its cocooned case. Nor could I think of playing it, though it would always be part of me and I hoped I could play it again soon.
I seemed to find sleep eventually and the nervous energy and anxiety, with which I had brought to my pillow the previous night, had gone. I looked at my watch. It was seven thirty in the morning. I covered myself and went on deck to see if any land was in sight. There was none and only one other man out of earshot had taken to the deck. A crew member approached. He stopped in front of me.
‘Heil Hitler, Madam. Breakfast is now being served in the dining room.’
I raised my hand. ‘Heil Hitler, I’ll be there in a minute. Thank you.’ The salutation I had almost forgotten came back to me with fear. I'd soon get used to it of course and learn not to think about it, yet it symbolised the regime and failure to salute had its consequences.
After breakfast I retired to my room. I had only been there a few minutes when I heard a long blast of the ships horn. It intrigued me. I went out on the deck once more and saw at close range the battleship Scharnhorst glide past at speed. Then like a school of porpoises, the Unterseeboot fleet followed in a regular pattern at the Battleship’s stern.
The SS Columbus dropped speed to permit the convoy to pass by. Each U-boot had a white ensign bearing the swastika. The power of the German navy was there to see, although that would only be a fraction of their naval force. Where could it be heading? To challenge the British Empire, straining as all its colonies fought to break free perhaps? Would it be their ally and dissolve the decades of our Colonial history? Or would it come to their aid with false promises? It seemed that the world order was being shaken up with no consideration for how it would eventually resolve and settle its anger.
Four hours later the SS Columbus slowed down and was taken under line by two port tugs. I returned on deck to see Hamburg re-appear, that friendly city which had taken me to its heart all those years ago. On the quay I saw official cars. Everywhere men were in military uniform or naval dress. Meanwhile the women of the city carried on with their domestic duties. They did so in a spritely manner anticipating what I could not guess.
We tied up and with the money exchanged on board, I paid to return home by taxi. I opened the front door and felt fustiness, dryness too but also the familiar vague scent of the Richter household. I opened the shutters in the sitting room, then the kitchen and bathroom windows.
I looked in the kitchen cupboards. It seemed Otto had cleared out all the tinned fruit and most of the tinned fish and meat. I did discover one tin of corned beef but had no vegetables and no milk. I needed a basic larder-replenishment and went off to fill two shopping bags.
I was recognised at the butchers and the dairy shop. That made me feel welcome as they inquired about my family and that they were pleased to see me again. I was not far from Karl’s dental practise so despite laden down by two baskets, I made for his clinic.
I entered. Renate had her back to me writing notes and so I approached the desk and placed my bags on the floor.
‘I have dreadful toothache. I need to see the dentist,’ I said with the broadest of smiles.
‘I’ll be with you in a ...Hilda!’
Renate came from behind the desk and gave me a hug but when we parted I saw her tear filled eyes.
‘What’s the matter Renate?’
‘It's Karl. ‘
‘Karl? What happened?’
‘He has been ordered to report to the army and serve as a dentist to the troops. I have no idea where he is at present.’
‘Oh dear, what is life coming to? But what’s happening here? ’
‘You will remember Anton Huber?’
‘Yes, the retired dentist. I remember him.’
‘He was asked to take over here, against his better judgement I’d say. His eyesight is not as it once was. But Hilda these are insignificant changes. It’s happening to many others. Karl is, as you know, forty eight. Had he been fifty he’d have been given lighter work but I fear when the war starts he’ll be in the forefront of battle. It frightens me.’
‘You said when the war starts. Will it and when?’
‘It certainly will. No one can stop it I am sure. But when? It depends. We are taking over countries which have German minorities. If any of these countries react it could be the flashpoint for war. Remember 1914?’
‘I certainly do.’
I could see the pain in her expressive eyes under her black eyelashes. ‘And Otto, have you seen him recently?’
‘Yes, not so long ago. You won’t recognise him. He’s grown. All that food and exercise he’s getting at Baden Baden.’
‘But tell me when did you arrive?’
‘This morning. I’ve been shopping and thought I’d come here to surprise you. But you have surprised, or I should say, shocked me. I hope you will see Karl again soon.’
‘Why don’t you come over to me this evening for a meal? You will not get settled in a day. Shall we say, 7pm?’
‘That’s very kind of you, Renate.’
I walked back home seeing the militarisation of the city now as permanent. It was like a boil expanding all the time. When would it burst and when it did, who would it affect?
I had no sooner opened the door when the telephone rang. I placed my shopping down in the hall and lifted the receiver.
‘Hello.’
‘Welcome home, Eicke here. I hope the crossing was not rough. I want you at my office at 10am tomorrow morning, Gestapo Headquarters. Come smartly dressed. I look forward to seeing you once more. I’m pleased you have returned promptly. ’
‘Thank you Herr Eicke. I look forward to our meeting again too.’
I replaced the receiver but held on to the phone to steady my hand. It seemed I was with Thornton so recently. And I recalled my London error. Was I really cut out for espionage? Would I trip myself up with this professional interrogator? The one thing I must not forget was that I was to be seen and known as a German spy once more and I must not mix up my roles.
I chose to walk for my morning meeting. The streets had not changed. I knew every inch of the way. Only the veneer of politics over the city was different. Lampposts were draped in flags, even the square where I brought Otto in his pram on sunny afternoons many years ago, had been marked out for troops to drill in step with their military brass bands. The public had to support these highly trained men. There was no doubt that they were extremely smart in their military appearance. Their impact was appreciated by all.
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Web Site:
The Reluctant Spy
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