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Miller H Caldwell, click here
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The story continues
Chapter 11
Rain fell assaulting my lounge window with lateral force that Tuesday morning. Outside, the traffic was not moving. Pedestrians sought shop awnings and those crossing the road sprinted as quickly as their umbrellas would allow. I looked at the sky, heavy grey clouds lingering over Hamburg. It may have been spring but the budding trees’ branches hung low and the daffodils by the roadside were dejected and flattened.
I sat down to darn a stocking, my glasses slipping to the end of my nose to gain focus. The front door bell rang. I was not expecting anyone. I put down my sewing carefully and stood up. I hesitated. Eicke may have brought some instructions worked on and approved over the weekend. He had arrived to deliver it. After all, I was not expecting anyone else. I made my way to the front door as the door was knocked once more. Taking a deep breath then relaxing, I fixed a welcoming smile on my face and turned the latch.
Standing before me was a uniformed soldier.
‘Otto, my darling. Come in.’
Our embrace lasted the best part of a minute as I showed my delight in muffled comments, said as he spoke about his leave.
‘Yes, two days only. But home cooking I hope.’
‘Oh yes Otto. Now put your bag down and come through. Tea?’
‘Coffee if you have some.’
‘So, still in Baden-Baden?’I asked boiling the kettle on the gas stove.
‘I’m not meant to say.’
‘So not Baden-Baden, you have finished there?’
‘Well, soon. My unit is still there for the time being. We train in other places though. But yes, Baden-Baden that’s the base and from there I’ve been allowed five days leave.’
‘Wonderful, five days, that’s almost a week, darling.’
‘Not really mother. Transport to Hamburg was not easy and I stopped in Andernach overnight, anyway. I’ve just got two days here, before I return.’
‘Andernach? Between Frankfurt and Cologne?’
‘Yes, visiting a friend,’
‘A friend from Hamburg? Would I know him?’ I asked stirring his coffee, only asking as a mother would. There was a delay in his response.
‘It’s a girl, Gisela,’ Otto said almost as an admission.
‘A girl? You must tell me about her. Where did you meet? What does she do?’ I shouted through from the kitchen realising that my little boy had grown up and was becoming a confident young man. I brought the tray through with a broad smile on my face. The prospect of a larger family in due course came to my mind, a prospect I had hoped one day would come true. But with Gisela? How would I find her? I was keen to learn more.
‘So tell me how you met her?’
‘You remember me telling you about my friend, Paul Huber?’
‘Yes, the red headed one?’
‘Yes, a bunk mate. We’re best of friends.’
‘And Gisela?’ I had to interject to keep my focus on his new friend.
‘She’s his sister. She came to visit Paul and we went out to a few cafes together, all three of us. On the last day before she returned, I took her out alone.’
‘So Gisela Huber. How old is she?’
‘She’s eighteen, too.’
‘And what’s her work?’
‘She’s a personal secretary.’
‘I see, family business in Andernach?’ I asked after sipping my cup.
Otto contemplated in a moment’s silence how much he should be telling his mother.
‘Secretary to SS-Unterscharfuher Soren Böhm of the 9th SS Panzer Grenadier.’
‘So that’s where his unit is, Andernach,’ I concluded.
‘If you promise on point of death, my death and yours, not to tell anyone, Andernach is where we have been training when we were not in Baden-Baden.’
Dynes and Thornton would be pleased to have learned this information. Meantime I stored it in my mind.
‘It sounds so secretive. It’s not really is it?’
‘Our training can be physical, manual or cerebral. Andernach is the espionage centre. We learn how to recognise the enemy within.’
‘The enemy within?’
‘Yes, traitors, you know mother, Jews, homosexuals, vagrants, gypsies. All who do not support Germany’s aspirations?’
'That's the work of the Gestapo surely?'
'They need our support too,' said Otto.
‘You realise, your aunt Renate, ....her grandmother was a Jew?’
‘No, is she Jewish?’ Otto’s eyebrows gathered in disbelief.
‘No, her mother married a gentile and Renate married your father’s brother. So not all Jews are really Jewish, are they? You must remember that.’
Otto contemplated the truth concerned that there was non-Aryan blood in his close family, even if that was blood grouping by marriage.
‘Then I will not divulge that. I promise not to inform about her. I wish you had not told me.’
I internalised all Otto was saying. Indoctrinated by a system I had no control over or within.
We played chess after we had eaten that night. It brought back happy memories with our erstwhile family. Otto had not forgotten his moves, learnt from a loving father who had taught him so much. Willy was a keen board player and chess was his second love. Of course he told me so often I was his first. I could never beat him at the game. My mind never stayed in concentration mode for long enough. That had now become a valuable ability as a spy as I had to stay alert at all times.
It was almost midnight before we turned off the light in the lounge and we prepared for bed. I heard Otto in the hall but thought nothing of it. It was good to have a man around the house once more. Soon he was in his bedroom, the lights out and I entered sleep as content as could be with my indoctrinated son at home with me once more.
I made porridge the following morning and we sat in the dining room with our steaming hot bowls before us.
‘Last night, before going to bed, I loitered in the hall.’
‘Yes, I heard you. Admiring the paintings?’
‘No mother, I opened the sideboard drawer and found an Iron Cross with its crease-less ribbon. Is it yours?’
How foolish I had been. I should have hid it in my bedroom but now it had been found.
‘If I were to tell you Otto, my life would be at risk,’ I said looking at him for his response.
Otto smiled recognising his own statement of the day before being thrown back at him.
‘Is it something to do with your joint nationality?’
‘Your training is good Otto. Let’s leave it at that.’
‘But it’s an award. How did you earn it?’
I stood up and patted Otto on his back.
‘Too many questions my young man. I obviously pleased my superiors.’ Then my finger was raised to my closed lips. Otto realised that he could be proud of me without obtaining the information I was keen to withhold and he wanted to know. He relaxed knowing he would find out one day. This was his last day with me and he did not want to spoil it, nor did I.
Otto left the following morning. I did not let him go without giving him a tight maternal hug in the hallway. He was once more in his smart army uniform.
‘To Andernach then?’
‘Yes, then back to base.’
‘I’d like to meet Gisela one day,’ I said.
‘You may. If all goes well, you will certainly get to know her.’
‘Otto, I wish you much happiness.’
‘Thanks mother. You know you will always be my first love.’
‘I hope I’ll be your second love one day, Otto. Now off you go and keep safe.’
I closed the door and went to the lounge window. Otto walked down the drive but never looked back. He was preoccupied with his youthful thoughts. I remembered that feeling so very well some thirty years ago. First loves were so precious. My eyes followed him until he was out of sight and I wondered how and where we would next meet.
Chapter 12
Otto’s visit had pleased me immensely. He was after all, the only male in my immediate family; my only son. My only fear was that the war was inevitable and I wanted to remain in close contact with him through this troubled time. I felt deep inside the war was soon to start. I hoped it might be over very quickly and that would be the best result for all.
The letters that dropped on the hall carpet that morning were my two passes. One to be kept safe in my home till I returned to Britain and the other to carry at all times. It was a guarantee that there would be no restriction on my travels. I wondered what the travels in Germany might entail. Then on closer inspection my British card showed my name as Mrs Hilda Campbell. I looked again at the German pass. Frau Hilda Richter. I telephoned Eicke.
‘My passes have arrived today.’
‘I had meant to tell you in Britain you must be called by your maiden name, Miss Campbell. It is a Scottish name, I believe. Not so?’
‘Oh yes, very much so,’ I replied.
‘You will soon get used to it once more. Your name Frau Richter must never exist in Britain.’
‘But I can’t change my name in Elgin or when speaking to my mother.’
‘You will not be posted in Scotland. Any telephone communication with your mother can retain the Hilda name. For your mother that has not changed.
‘I see.’
‘Now, to your next appointment. Next month I want you to go to a school. A school which will have spies like yourself. You have much to learn and time is of the essence.’
‘Next month?’
‘Yes 3rd July.’
‘And where is this?
‘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 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 visit you. I will also arrange for his letters to be sent to you.’
‘That is very kind of you.’
‘In difficult times, we have to make some sacrifices. Sometimes niceties can be fitted in to ease the mind.’
‘So I make my way on the third?’
‘Yes. Your bank account has been funded for that duration but you will be catered for and given the use of a launderer and cook.’
‘Then I look forward to the training.’
I was awake at dawn. Trees were in full leaf. Swallows were soon in flight darting with style around the city then lodging in gutters and I was ready to travel.
Hamburg Hauptbahnhof rail station was busy. Naval personnel were numerous making their way to submarines and battleships at ports along the north coast. Soldiers with different shoulder flashes consulted the overhead destination boards for forward postings and the debonair air force officers seemed aloof probably longing for the day when they could fly above the skies. Uniforms were many and comforting. I felt our troops confident and prepared for what would happen before long. Others in the station had a more sinister look about them and not before too long one of these officials approached me.
‘Madam, your ticket please,’ he said holding out his hand.
I showed him the voucher I had been given to travel. It bore Eicke’s signature.
‘Where are you travelling to?’
‘Berlin.’
‘What business do you have there?’
I took out my new pass and opened it. I turned it towards his eyes.
‘Very well madam, have a safe journey.’
I breathed a sigh of relief as I slalomed my way through other passengers to platform four.
Out of my eye I caught a commotion. I saw three men in trilby hats, with pistols to the fore detain a family set to travel. The father protested in the loudest of voices but no one came to his aid. Many just watched as the incident developed. Other plain clothed policemen came to assist in the family’s detention and moments later they were dragged out of the station concourse and all was in order again as if nothing had happened.
‘They would have been caught at the port of embarkation, Cuxhaven probably,’ a man said sneering his disdain of the Jewish family. Eicke’s workers, I thought.
The change at Berlin went well with fewer in military attire but perhaps even more secret police eyeing every passenger’s movement. Nervousness and tension attracted their interest as well as the age of the traveller. Perhaps I was already seen in a less than flattering age group. I was beginning to feel my age and that was no bad thing to realise in the present tension. I felt if I let drop some longer pieces of grey hair from under my hat, I might just gain a little more deference.
My carriage was by the window. I pulled up the leather strap and lowered the window slightly. My compartment companions had no objection indicated by shakes of their heads. Everyone seemed suspicious of everyone else and conversation risked exposure to unwelcome comments. We set off to Dresden. I gazed out of the window. Soon industrial factories faded and green fields dominated the land flying by at a good pace. How nonchalant were the cows ignorant at the pace the country was travelling with optimism. While hens and chicken scurried as the train approached their fences. Clothes lines had sheets dancing in the breeze and the occasional horse drawn milk carriage seemed to be stationary as we sped by. Such perfect silent calmness dominated my feelings. Being at one with my adopted home made me wonder if I would ever reach British shores again, now that I had tied my colours to the mast?
I knew what the next few weeks would bring. More training certainly, but it was crucial that I did not show any of my Scottish mannerisms. I was not concentrating when he spoke.
‘I said are you visiting family?’ the elderly man asked again sitting opposite me.
‘No, on business.’
‘I see.’
‘And you?’ I asked.
‘Visiting my grand-daughter, Elise. Her father is away in the army and her mother has her hands full. I thought I’d come and assist.’
‘I am sure you will be made very welcome.’
‘And you have family?’
‘Yes, a son. My husband died.’
‘My condolences. He will avoid the troubles.’
‘The troubles?’
‘You don’t think there will be a war?’
‘It is looking like it will be soon.’
This man wanted to talk, I didn’t. The strain of what I could say made me look out of the window. It was late afternoon, the sun still shone brightly and the air warm and clear. I closed my eyes but I did not sleep. I deprived my companion conversation and was left to contemplate my uncertain future.
I gathered my suitcase and belongings and left the train at Dresden. The car to Bautzen was comfortable until it drove through the town onto a minor road. Three miles or so later the car came to a halt and a series of huts came into view. I had arrived at my accommodation for the next few weeks. I was determined not to let it get me down.
The female quarters were at the end of the huts and I was advised to go there where I’d be met. I made my way over and saw a woman at the window. She seemed to smile. I returned the gesture. She opened then cabin door.
‘Hi, I guess you are Hilda?’ she said in an American accent. I was very surprised.
‘I’m Nancy Krause and you are?’
‘Hilda Richter,’ I said wondering if I had been led into a trap so soon.
‘So we’re here to learn the black crafts, yeah?’
‘If you say so,’ I said without too much enthusiasm.
‘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?’ I asked.
‘Sailed into Hamburg a week ago; got down here three days ago.’
‘Sailed from where?’
‘New York of course.’
‘So you are American?’ I stated the obvious.
‘Sure thing. Yes, naturalised in 1934, but a Nazi at heart.’
‘So, you from England?’
I hesitated. ‘No Hamburg.’
‘Come on you can tell me. You’re here to be sent home like me. So where’s home really?’
It became clear. We were all here to be trained as spies and sent to our homelands on espionage duties.
‘Scotland. That’s where I was brought up.’
‘I guess we’ll get on real fine. My German is rusty and yours is pretty good. You can help me if I’m not picking up the instructions.’
‘When will they start?’ I asked
‘Tomorrow at 8 am.’
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Web Site:
The Reluctant Spy
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