Chapter 15

Late February 1964

In the morning, when we joined Lili on the bus, she was beside herself with the need to know what was going on. Col and I had talked about this as we walked to the bus. We decided Col would tell her in the playground where no-one would overhear them in the general hubbub. Lili frowned when Col told her she had to wait, but I hope she understood why we felt it necessary.

I was distracted at school and received a few frowns from teachers as a result, something they were not used to giving me.

Mr. Pollock walked over to my desk as I gathered up my gear. “You are not yourself today, Johnstone.”

This intervention surprised me as, whilst he was an excellent teacher, he had always seemed aloof. His expression showed his interest and concern. “Sorry sir, I’ve got a lot on my mind at the moment.” I hope I didn’t sound rude; I was unused to this from a person who had always seemed so removed from everyday vicissitudes.

Mr. Pollock’s lips curved up, almost a smile. “I see.” He pondered for a moment. “If you think I can be of assistance, please come and see me.”

This had me quite off balance. Mr. Pollock’s concerned eyes held mine for a moment longer and then he turned away, his academic gown swirling around him. This was a side of him I hadn’t seen before as he’d always come across as the distant professor, content in his ivory tower surrounded by the Maths he so loved.

Fortunately, I didn’t have a German class, so I didn’t have to talk to Mr. Sturr about the competition.

I wanted to reach my house as soon as possible to see if the letter from the competition had arrived. Perhaps the wording would offer me a way to turn it down – but I couldn’t think what that might be. Boarding the bus, I sat down in my usual place.

Lili leant in from behind,

“Col told me...” Col frowned at her and Lili stopped. “Of course, sorry.”

And we spent the bus trip and the walk to Lili’s house, avoiding the elephant in the room.

Once we reached Lili’s house, she checked we were alone and, after we spread out our homework, we rehashed what was happening.

“Like I told you, Lili, Mutti told us to watch out for anything odd or people asking questions about us.” Col gave Lili a grim smile. “But as you’re our friend, they might want to get to us through you. You need to watch out for your family as well and tell us if anything strikes you as odd, no matter how small.”

Lili nodded, her face taking on a serious mien as she realised her closeness to us might put her and her family at some risk.

Col, as ever, sensed Lili’s concern. She leant across the table. “I know it all sounds farfetched, but I’m afraid it is real.” She sighed, shaking her head. “I’m sorry we got you into this, Lili.”

Lili’s bright blue eyes found ours across the table. She shivered and then shook out her hair, as if scattering her fears. “It’s not your fault – and I’ll help any way I can.” Her soft voice strengthened as she spoke.

Col smiled at Lili, her voice gentle and filled with gratitude. “Thank you, Lili. I...” she glanced across at me. “We knew we could count on you.”

Lili blushed. “I’ll keep my eyes open and let you know of anything unusual.”

I saw the redness in her cheeks and knew she felt embarrassed at Col’s praise. She changed the subject, “I need some help with conditionals in German, Col.” She picked up her exercise book and flicked it open.

We settled down with our homework. Col and Lili had been a term behind the rest of their class, as they had only started at Grammar School in early January. Despite this, they seemed to be caught up. They were both bright and I was sure that our homework club was helping with Lili’s focus and motivation. Study also distracted our minds from the worries we faced.

Mutti Frida and Mrs. Wiśniewski arrived together and the two mothers shared a cup of coffee before we walked back to Col’s house. In spite of what was going on – or perhaps because of it – Mutti Frida insisted we talk to her, in Polish, about our day as we walked home. I struggled to explain in Polish about Mr. Pollock and the ‘ivory tower’ metaphor – to Mutti Frida’s amusement.

When I finally returned home later that night, there was no letter waiting for me. But the following morning the postman was a bit early, arriving as I was walking out of the door. There was an envelope for me. I put it into my pocket and left the others for my mother.

Once we were on the bus, ensconced on the back seat, I pulled it out, reading the sender’s address: the International Youth Cultural Exchange Program. They were offering me the vacant place on a two-week visit to the DDR during the upcoming Easter school holidays. Col and Lil read it over my shoulders.

“Well, now what am I going to do?” I peered at both Col and Lili, but neither had anything to offer.

We stayed like that, in silence and after a minute, Lili said, “Couldn’t you lose the letter? That way, your mother wouldn’t know you’d been offered the trip.”

Col huffed. “That won’t work. Willi’s school knows he’s being offered the trip and they want the glory of one of their students winning the prize. If Willi says nothing, I expect they would contact his mother.”

“You think they’d do that?” Lili asked.

I nodded, thinking of Mr. Sturr’s interest. “I’m afraid so.”

Silence descended. I wondered what Mutti Frida’s contact was going to do about all of this.

Lili’s mind must have been wandering down the same track because she asked, “What do you think they will tell Mutti Frida?”

I shook my head, amazed she had put my thoughts into words. “I’ve got no idea, but I think I’m going to be forced to go to the DDR by the school and my mother.”

“Perhaps if you could convince her that travelling behind the Iron Curtain was dangerous, you could get her on your side?” Lili suggested.

“Now, there’s a thought.” My tone was grateful. “Do you think your family could talk to her about this? I don’t expect she’d need much convincing. The DDR and other eastern bloc countries have a poor reputation in the west after the way the Russians put down the Hungarians in 1956.”

Col perked up at this. “Oh, please, Lili. Could you get them to help?”

“Well, we can talk to my mother later today and see what she says.”

“It’ll be best if I raise the subject with your mother, Lili. That way, she will know I am worried.”

“Are you saying you are not worried about it?” Col’s voice showed his dismay at this idea.

“Yes ... er ... no. Of course I am worried.” I managed not to grab Col’s hand. “I’m thinking if Lili’s mum knows how worried I am, she might push harder with my mother.”

Col subsided into her seat. “Oh, yes, of course.”

That afternoon, we gathered around the table at Lili’s house, working on our homework until Mrs. Wiśniewski arrived home. It was Wednesday, early closing day, so Mutti Frida would have gone home at lunchtime and we’d be walking home alone.

After a while, Mrs. Wiśniewski came into the kitchen where we were working. “Would you like a glass of milk and perhaps a biscuit?”

A chorus of Polish “Yes, please” ran round the table.

Mrs. Wiśniewski smiled, replying in the same language. “Your language lessons are going well.”

Col summoned her Polish, then replied, “Yes, thank you. Your daughter is an excellent teacher.”

Mrs. Wiśniewski smiled at Lili and then gazed at Col and me. “And she tells me you are helping her in every other class. Thank you.” She whisked about the kitchen, getting glasses of milk and a plate of biscuits.

I glanced at Col and then at Lili’s mother as she put the plate of biscuits on the table. “Mrs. Wiśniewski, can I ask you something, please?”

Lili’s mother was a bit surprised by this. Our interactions had always been superficial until now. “Yes, of course, Willi.”

“I’ve won a trip to East Germany, the DDR, and I’m worried about travelling there.” I stared into her eyes. “Is it ... safe?”

I caught Col suppressing a slight smile.

Had I laid it on a bit too thick?

Mrs. Wiśniewski pondered my words for a moment, so I pulled the letter from my satchel and gave it to her. She read through it and then pulled up a chair and sat down.

“First of all, Willi, congratulations on doing so well. You have been learning German for only a year and you win an essay competition.”

“Well, I didn’t win it, as the letter says.”

Mrs. Wiśniewski waved my objection aside. “Don’t be so modest. Your essay was so good they offered you the prize.” She reached across and helped herself to a biscuit, nibbling it as she thought. “You are right to be worried about visiting the Eastern Block, as they are not trustworthy. They twist the words and actions of others to fit their purposes.” She finished her biscuit, leaning back in her chair. “It would be dangerous for Col or Lili to visit, as they are European, and the Russians see them as their slaves – even a West German.” She nodded at Col, thinking Col and Mutti Frida were from West Germany, the BRD. “But you are English, and that’s different.”

“How is it different for me?” I asked, confused.

Mrs. Wiśniewski’s face was stern. “Willi, you are English, part of the free west. You are their declared enemy in everything, so they must treat you carefully.” She paused. “You are not in the military, invading their airspace like Gary Powers or that unfortunate pilot shot down and killed over Cuba during the crisis. You are a child and someone they can, perhaps ... influence. Someone who might help them in their war of ideas with the West.”

I saw Col’s gaze flickering towards me when Mrs. Wiśniewski called me a child, but I managed not to react.

Col covered her reaction. “Yes, Willi, they would take anything you say and twist it so that it seemed you support their world view.”

Mrs. Wiśniewski gave Col an approving glance. “Indeed, but I think it is most unlikely that they would arrest you or prevent you from returning home on time. There is too much for them to lose in the propaganda war by throwing a child of the West into gaol.”

This was not headed in the direction I hoped or expected.

“You think there is no problem with me going to East Germany?”

Mrs. Wiśniewski pursed her lips. “I did not say that. Of course there is some danger. But that danger is the propaganda value of having an intelligent young Englishman visit their country and say nice things about it.” She leaned across the table and patted my hand. “But there is a propaganda risk for them, too.”

She must have seen the confusion on my face.

How could I be a propaganda risk?

“They will show you the very best of their country and pick the places you go and the people you will meet. They hope you will sing their praise when you return home. But they risk you seeing past all of that to the reality they are trying to hide.”

Mrs. Wiśniewski marshalled her thoughts. “I think you have a responsibility to go. You are an intelligent young man and will see beneath the propaganda veil that they draw across their society. You can tell young people here in the west the reality of life under the Soviets. Why we must resist them and strive to bring freedom to the oppressed people of the eastern Europe.”

This was unexpected. Mrs. Wiśniewski wanted me to become a propaganda tool in her fight with the oppressors of her country. It sounded like she would push everyone to not just let me go, but to send me. “Um, thank you. You’ve given me a few things to think about.”

Mrs. Wiśniewski stood up, giving me an encouraging smile and left us to our homework. Lili’s eyes were wide, almost shocked at her mother’s vehemence.

The three of us sat in silence for about a minute before Col leant forward and took my hand. “I hope she doesn’t call our mothers. We don’t need that.”

I nodded and we returned to the books in front of us.

On the walk up to Col’s house, I turned to Col. “You need to be careful.”

She stared at me, wide-eyed. “About what?”

“I saw your expression.”

Col tossed her head. “It’s difficult for me, Will. Most of the time, you are a teenager. It’s only when you say something unexpected or react differently I remember what you are.” She shrugged. “When Mrs. Wiśniewski described you as a child, it struck me as funny.”

“We both have things we don’t want everyone knowing – although I don’t think most people would believe me like you have. They’d lock me away.” I pulled a wry face at her.

Col nodded. “We both have to be careful not to give our secrets away.”

We walked on in silence, pondering the strange realities and dangers we both lived with. When we arrived at Col’s house, Mutti Frida sensed our mood. I took the letter out of my bag and handed it to her.

Mutti Frida’s face was sympathetic. “Willi, we knew this was coming. It’s not the end of the world.”

I sighed. “I know, but...” My voice petered out in uncertainty.

“Well,” Mutti Frida smiled. “We will have to convince your mother that it is not safe for you to travel to East Germany.”

Neither Col nor I wanted to tell Mutti Frida what Mrs. Wiśniewski thought about this, so I nodded, and we worked on setting the table for tea.

What to say to my mother occupied my thoughts on the walk back to my house that evening. If I could convince her it wasn’t safe, that would stymie the school’s efforts to use me for their propaganda – and Mrs. Wiśniewski’s efforts, too. I was distracted when I pushed open the back door.

“Hello Will.” My mother glanced up from the kitchen table where she was sewing replacement buttons onto a couple of my father’s shirts. “You got the letter confirming your place on the trip to East Germany, then.”

This shocked me into a momentary silence. “What?”

“Manners, Will.” She chided me.

“Sorry.”

“Mrs. Wiśniewski rang earlier. She told me you showed her the letter.”

Good grief.

That was fast work; Mrs. Wiśniewski must be fired up about this.

“Yes. It arrived this morning as I was leaving, so I took it with me.”

“May I see it, please?”

I retrieved the letter in its envelope from my satchel.

She lodged her threaded needle in the shirt collar. “Hm – the trip is during the Easter holidays, so it won’t interfere with your school.” She paused. “Do you want to go, Will?”

Finally, an adult was asking what I wanted. “No.” I was emphatic.

My mother was surprised. “I would have thought you’d jump at the chance to go somewhere different – in particular, Germany.” She stopped. “Why don’t you want to go, Will?”

I couldn’t tell her my real reason. “I’m scared. They are not like us and I’m frightened they might not let me come back.”

I was worried that my mother might not think me serious.

Her face hardened. “You’re right, Will. The governments of those countries are not like ours and they will use people to suit their own ends. But I think the people in those countries are like us in the West.” She paused, thinking. “Frau Schmidt showed me that not all Germans were Nazis; I’m sure that the ordinary people in East Germany have concerns about their government, even if they cannot speak about them. I think you would learn this for yourself.”

This was terrible: even my mother wanted me to go.

She saw I was unconvinced. “Anyhow Will, we don’t have to decide yet.” She focused on the letter again. “You don’t have to let them know for a week, so have a good think about it and come and talk to me some more about your concerns if you need to.”

My sleep that night was disturbed as all this rolled around in my head. I updated Col and Lili on the bus to school in the morning.

“Willi, I’m so sorry.” Lili was embarrassed about her mother. “I couldn’t stop her from phoning your mother.”

“It’s not your fault, Lili.” I shrugged. “Your mother has strong feelings about this.”

“Oh, she does. She does,” Lili said, sighing. “After she phoned your mother, she was talking with some of her friends that came over to play Bridge. They all agreed it was important for the English to learn what Russia was like.” She paused, reaching back to what she had overheard the previous evening. “They are worried that the alliance with Russia during the war still colours British thinking about the Soviets and their global intentions. Educating young English people about the reality of the Soviet Empire is important to them.”

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Robert Hart

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