Through My Eyes. Again
Copyright© 2019 by Iskander
Chapter 16
March 1964
On Monday morning as we walked down the aisle of the bus towards Lili, she stood up and waved a newspaper. Before we even sat down, she blurted out, “Willi, you’re in the local paper.”
What now?
Lili handed me the paper, folded to an inside page. There was that photo of me again and a short article repeating what the Polish newspaper had said, except it added I was the son of Dr Johnstone, a local doctor in Herne Bay. Everyone was conspiring to force me to take the trip.
I shook my head and sighed. “I have to reply to the letter tomorrow, telling them whether I will accept the award or not.”
Neither Col nor Lili said a word, but Col surreptitiously squeezed my hand sympathetically.
At school, Mr Sturr was on my case about it, too. The feeling I was being hemmed in grew ever stronger.
On the bus home, my impending decision stifled most normal conversation and it got worse at Lili’s house as Mrs Wiśniewski was home and pushed her view strongly until I insisted we needed to get on with our homework. She gave me a hard stare before turning away.
Mutti Frida was later than usual in meeting us at Lili’s house.
She apologised to Mrs Wiśniewski, “I’m sorry I’m late, Daria. I was delayed at the shop for a while.”
“Nothing serious, I hope?”
I noticed Col searching her mother’s face intently.
“No, a mix up in the stock list.” She turned to us, keeping her face blank. “Come on children.”
We bustled from the house and, once we were on the footpath, Col grabbed her mother’s hand. “What’s going on, Mutti?”
Mutti Frida shook her head. “When we get home, Col.”
Col frowned, but we walked home in silence, my sword of Damocles suspended above us all.
Col pounced as the front door closed behind us. “What’s going on?”
Mutti Frida hung up her coat. “Come and sit down, you two.”
Col grabbed my hand and pulled me into a seat.
“Well?”
Mutti Frida pulled out a chair and sat down. “Herr Watling was waiting for me when we closed up the shop.” She paused, glancing sideways at me, before continuing. “It seems the Polish community has tentacles reaching into MI6 – and then there’s the article in the local newspaper today.” Another pause ... and Mutti Frida’ s face was apologetic when she turned to me. “Willi, they now think it would be suspicious if you did not go.”
Col jerked bolt upright in her chair. “What?”
I stared at her, equally stunned.
“It seems you have become a cause celebre for the awarding committee. Your tardiness in replying is seen as a reluctance to go, yet there is a cheer squad pushing for you to ‘see through’ the front the east Germans will put up for you.” She sighed, apologetically. “All of this has made you ... visible.”
“If it was up to you ... I mean if it were not for your fears about our safety, would you go?” Col asked.
“Um ... I don’t know. Your safety is the most important thing to me.”
Col squeezed my hand.
“Herr Watling doesn’t think there is any risk to us if you go. In fact, they think you must go now. If you don’t, the Stasi, my husband, will wonder why and they may send someone to investigate you, which would be dangerous for us.”
Now even Mutti Frida was pushing for me to go.
All of this ran through my head as we ate supper and sat there reading afterwards.
My mother and sister were in the lounge room when I arrived home. My sister briefly raised her head and then returned to her book, but my mother put down her newspaper and patted the settee, inviting me to sit beside her. “Hello, Will. You’re becoming a local star.” She smiled as I sat down beside her. “Are you any closer to deciding what to do?”
My sister frowned. “I don’t see what all the fuss is about. It can’t matter what some random boy does?”
My mother ignored the remark. “Well?”
“I don’t have to decide until tomorrow.”
“So...?”
“I want to sleep on it tonight.”
“Okay, Will.” My mother paused. “I want you to know it is your decision. You’ve heard my views...” she paused and gave a humourless laugh. “ ... and those of lots of other people, too. But it’s your life and you should decide.”
“Thank you.” The problem was it wasn’t only my life. “I’m going to bed. Perhaps it will be clearer for me in the morning.”
My mother smiled. “Goodnight, Will. Sleep well.”
Surprisingly, sleep came but when I woke in the morning, confusing shards of dreams afflicted me. I lay there, pushing them aside, thinking. It seemed too problematic for Col and Mutti Frida if I did not go. Everyone else wanting me to go for their own reason did not carry any weight.
I dressed and headed down to breakfast, where I told my mother of my decision.
“Okay, Will. I’ll pick up a passport application for you and make an appointment for a passport photo late one afternoon this week.”
Of course – no photobooths or even Polaroid cameras. “Thank you.”
I wandered down to our front gate. Col arrived shortly after and we set off for the bus and joined Lili on the back seat.
I gazed at the two girls. “I’ve decided I have to go.”
Col nodded. “But you don’t want to?”
I sighed in frustration. “It’s almost like I’ve been pushed into it.”
Col was frowning.
“Not by you and Mutti Frida, Col, but by everyone else. All this stuff in the newspapers has made it difficult and it now seems you will be safer if I do go.” I released a frustrated breath. “Even though I find it hard to believe.”
“Oh, Willi. I’m sorry things have turned out this way.”
I snorted. “It’s not your fault, Col. I should never have entered this wretched competition.” As I spoke, I shame flooded me.
I had been showing off and entered without thinking through the implications.
Col’s sensitivity showed again as she squeezed my hand in support. Lili had been silent through this but her face showed she was upset about her mother’s part.
“What’s happened is not your fault, Lili. Please don’t let it worry you.”
“But I do, Willi. If Mama had not interfered and got that article published, none of this pressure would have happened.” Lili was almost in tears.
I reached across and clasped her hand until she glanced up. “It’s not your fault, Lili.” I held her gaze until she gave me a tentative smile.
I shrugged. “It’s all water under the bridge now, anyway. My mother is arranging my passport application and a photo, and I’ll tell my German teacher, Mr Sturr, today I’m going. Things are moving along and now I have to make the best of them.”
“Do you know where you are going?” Col asked.
“Not yet. I suppose they’ll tell me once I accept.”
As usual, I got off the bus before the girls’ stop at the bus station and walked into school. I had time before morning assembly to write my letter of acceptance. I could pick up an envelope and stamp in Herne Bay as the post office was almost on our route to Lili’s house.
After my German class, I told Mr Sturr I was accepting the prize and he was delighted.
“Excellent, excellent. It’s a great honour for the school and your parents will be proud of you.” He tipped his glasses forward and peered at me over them. “Hmm ... I expect you to write a report of your visit for the school magazine.”
“Yes, sir.” I escaped to avoid him from loading me with anything else. He was a pretty good teacher despite his old-fashioned pomposity.
On the way to Lili’s house, we diverted via the post office and I posted my acceptance letter. I was now committed, like Julius Caesar crossing the Rubicon: Alea iacta est.
The following days felt strange: there had been great tension building up to the decision and countless threads had woven into a knot of Gordian proportions. Now was lost and empty. This put a strain on things with Col and Lili, who tried without success to lift me out of my grey mood. I knew this worried Col and I noticed her watching me. Despite her care for me and Lili’s cheerful outlook, the emptiness was hard to shake.
I had my passport photo taken and my mother and I completed the passport application and took it to the post office.
On Friday evening, my mother and I checked on the old suitcases stored in the loft. They were all past it and we went shopping on Saturday afternoon, acquiring a new suitcase. It was eye-opening to see how primitive suitcases were compared to the strong, light, wheeled ones from my old life - none of the suitcases had wheels. I selected one I hoped was small enough to carry but large enough for two weeks. We bought three shirts and two pairs of slacks. My school uniform was essentially a black suit and my mother decided it, dry cleaned and pressed, was suitable for formal occasions in east Germany.
A thick envelope from the International Youth Cultural Exchange Program arrived in the mail. I went through it with my mother and took it with me the following day, but I did not bring it out until we arrived at Lili’s house in the afternoon.
Col and Lili pored over it. The winners were to meet at the Victoria Station Hotel in London by noon on the Tuesday after Easter, 31st March. There we would get to meet everyone else, staying for the night. On Wednesday morning, we would go by bus to Heathrow airport to catch a flight to West Berlin. We would spend one night in West Berlin before going by bus to East Berlin. We would stay there for four days, visiting the Staatsoper for a performance and touring museums and art galleries. We were going to visit a school – a Polytechnische Oberschule, a combined primary and grammar school Col explained, and we’d spend time with members of the Freie Deutsche Jugend.
“What’s that? Were you a member?” Lili asked, sharply.
“No, Lili. You have to be fourteen before you can join.” She paused, raising an eyebrow at Lili. “I know what you’re thinking and its nothing like the Hitler Jugend.” Then her voice softened. “I was a member of Pionierorganisation Ernst Thälmann, but then all children were. They’re like the Cubs and Brownies here in England.”
Lili settled and we continued to look over the itinerary. From Berlin, we would travel to Dresden and then on to Leipzig before returning to Berlin, where we would visit the Volkskammer, the East German Parliament before returning via West Berlin to England.
When Lili was asking questions, I sensed Col was holding back. We both knew she was from east Germany and specifically Leipzig, so I didn’t understand her reticence.
Mutti Frida duly arrived and we walked back to their house. After tea, I gave Mutti Frida the documents. She slid the papers out of what was becoming a well-worn envelope. After a while, she glanced up from the papers. “You will have a busy time on this trip, Willi.” Mutti Frida folded the papers and slid them back into the envelope.
“Can you tell me what to expect?” I asked.
Col shook her head. “I don’t think we should, Willi.”
“Why not – you know all about Leipzig and you must have visited East Berlin and Dresden.”
Mutti Frida pulled a face. “Willi, we can’t tell you anything – they would be suspicious. How would an English boy know details about East Germany?”
“Oh, I see what you mean.” I thought for a moment. “Perhaps the library has some information, we can stop there on the way home tomorrow.”
Mrs Price was at the library desk when we arrived and gave me the evil eye as usual. I found the older librarian and asked for help, but unfortunately, there was precious little information in the library about post-war East Germany, only some disapproving paragraphs in the Encyclopedia Britannica providing basic information.
Col continued in her refusal to answer any questions, insisting I find information myself. But then help arrived from an unexpected source: Mrs Wiśniewski. Lili must have told her about my search for information and through her contacts turned up some copies of Neues Deutschland – the newspaper of the government of east Germany.
She sat at the table where we were doing our homework. “Now Willi, I have managed to get some information for you.” She laid four newspapers on the table but kept her hand firmly on them. “You need to understand this newspaper is run by and for the government of east Germany – it is propaganda aimed in part at the people of east Germany but also at the west – particularly West Germany.”
I started to reach for the papers, eager for any insight into the society I was to visit, but Mrs Wiśniewski was not finished.
“Willi, read behind the words, know many of them are lies.” Her voice was emphatic. “Do not be taken in by their lies, Willi.” She then pushed them across the table towards me.
“Thank you, Mrs Wiśniewski.”
The papers were from late February, about a week old, but I wanted a feeling for the society and its culture not current news. As today was a Polish day, I reluctantly folded the papers and slid them into my satchel for later.
Once we arrived back at Col’s house, I pulled them out.
Mutti Frida’s eyes widened in surprise. “Where did you get those, Willi?”
“Mrs Wiśniewski got them for me. I don’t know how.”
Mutti Frida picked up the one on top and started skimming over it. I grabbed the next one and, after watching us disappear into their pages, Col picked one up and flicked through it in a desultory fashion, turning pages.
I was concentrating on an article lauding the education system when I heard Col gasp. “Mutti, Mutti. It’s him.” She pushed the paper across the table.
Mutti Frida’s eyes dropped to the page Col had pushed across. “Yes, Col, it’s him.” She picked up the paper and started reading the article.
“Who is it, Col?” I asked.
Col slumped back in her chair. “My father.” Her voice held a quaver; seeing him had shaken her. I leaned across and wrapped an arm round her shoulder.
Mutti Frida scanned through the article. “It seems he has had a promotion to Oberstleutnant, making him the second in command of the Leipzig office.”
To read this story you need a
Registration + Premier Membership
If you have an account, then please Log In
or Register (Why register?)
$5.99
$5.99
