Chapter One Thousand Eight Hundred Sixty-Four
3rd August 1968
Kreuzberg, Berlin
Of all the places that his father would be. The Philharmonie Concert Hall used by Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra for the last several decades was not the one that Freddy would have expected. He questioned exactly how appropriate it was during the present situation.
The Orchestra itself was conducting rehearsal and Louis Ferdinand was watching in the otherwise empty auditorium. For decades he burnished his reputation as a patron of the arts and in recent years the Classical Music scene in Berlin had enjoyed a renaissance in Berlin, bucking the notion that the music was stodgy and outmoded as it was frequently seen in other parts of the world. It was a triumph for both Orchestra and their patrons.
“Why are you here?” Freddy asked as he sat down in the seat next to his father. “Is this the best use of your time?”
“Life doesn’t stop Friedrich” Louis replied, “If you spend all of your time focusing on the latest crisis you will eventually destroy yourself. You see, there will always be another crisis and if there are any new developments I will be informed.”
Freddy sat there for a minute, he understood what his father was saying. Still, appearances had to be maintained.
“Pay attention to this next part” Louis said, “I am particularly pleased with how it turned out.”
After a pause, the strings started playing a simple melody. Somehow, it seemed full of a kind of yearning. A minute later, the brass started playing the counterpoint, which was insistent and boisterous. Oddly, they were both the same tune, point and counterpoint, intertwined with each other.
“What is this?” Freddy asked, “I’m not familiar with it.”
“A gift for your sisters, this is the introduction” Louis replied, “My hope is that it will be ready by Christmas.”
At that moment, there was a pause and the woodwinds began. The piece was hesitant, halting in its progression. Timid, until it found its footing when it advanced forward in a wild rush. Then the violins began a jaunty melody, playful and somewhat discordant with the woodwinds.
“You wrote this?” Freddy asked.
“With the help of the Meisterin” Louis replied, nodding toward the front of the Orchestra.
Looking down at the Conductor’s podium, Freddy saw that Sarah von Schmidt was conducting. He knew who she was, a former child prodigy who was a longstanding pianist and violinist in the Berlin Philharmonic and the Django Reinhardt Orchestra. Freddy knew that his father wrote music, but not at this level. And what were his father’s muses going to make of this gift.
Wodzislaw, Poland
Bogdan had discovered that his hands wouldn’t stop shaking. The retreat from Miechów had been a nightmare and that had come after he had been subjected to protracted shelling. The German scouts had retreated and predictably 15cm shells had started landing on his position. Bogdan was left clawing at the ground at the bottom of his foxhole trying to dig deeper. He had been able to hear the sound of the howitzers firing in the distance seconds before the next wave of shells arrived.
Then it had stopped, and the air had been filled with the sound of revving engines and the ground shook as Panzers and APCs had advanced up the road. The Kaptian had ordered them to retreat and the Company had lost all cohesion as they had fled north.
It was afterwards when things had become surreal. As what was left of the Company staggered into Wodzislaw, they had found fresh troops had staring at them agog. Then Bogdan had found himself promoted to Plutonowy because he had not lost his rifle during the retreat. It was as if the whole world had gone insane.
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Looking through his binoculars from his hidden vantage point, Christian saw that the Poles had dug trenches and strung barbed wire. It all seemed like something from another era. He had no doubt that there were also landmines, anti-tank guns, and anything else that could be thrown at the 4th Panzer Division. The Hauptmann had told him that the 7th Recon job wasn’t to act as shock troops, it was to find the enemy and gather intelligence. Well, he had found the enemy. It took Christian a considerable amount of time to get an estimate of what sort of numbers he was looking at.
Walking back to the Iltis, Christian started telling Rolf what he was to relay back to Command. He took off his helmet as they started the drive back to headquarters and looked at it sourly. The Hauptmann had told him to replace the cover when the rip in it had been noticed. Christian had tried to fix it several times but every time he had stitched it, it had ripped again. The new helmet cover wasn’t bleached the sun and elements yet, the sort of thing that caused people to look at him as if he were fresh fish.
“I hate this stupid thing” Christian said aloud, “People think I am a fucking new guy.”
“The EK2 you’re getting will help with that” Einar said.
That was something that Christian was still trying to figure out. Before he had been evacuated to the field hospital, Gérald had told the Hauptmann that Christian had saved his life when he had put out fire in the Iltis. The way Gérald had described the incident, it sounded as if the whole thing had been engulfed in flames. It all seemed a bit silly.
