Chapter One Thousand Nine Hundred Thirteen
4th July 1969
Mitte, Berlin
The exhibition in the Heer Hall of the Imperial War Museum was a 25-year retrospective on the Soviet War in photographs. Many of Doug’s photographs were featured in exhibition, as were those of his professional rivals. Only one of them was present tonight, Franz Grasser. During the war, Grasser had enjoyed an inviable position as the official photographer of the General Staff during the later stages, after having impressed Field Marshal von Wolvogle somehow. Also, unlike Doug, who had been imbedded with the 4th Panzer Division, Grasser had been one of the Soldaten himself, so he had enjoyed access to every unit of the Heer and Luftwaffe.
“You really needed to be mindful of the shutter speed” Grasser said looking at the print of one of Doug’s photographs. “This image is a bit blurred when you don’t want it to be.”
“The idea was to create a sense of movement as opposed to just looking like everything was hanging in air” Doug replied as he turned his head to keep an eye on what Marie was doing.
The photograph was of Jost Schultz and Henrik Werth attacking a dug in Russian position. In the foreground, Hans von Mischner’s left shoulder was visible. Doug remembered that he had been somewhat distracted by the bullets flying around his head and shutter speed had been the last thing on his mind. It had been a happy accident that the image being slightly blurred had lent a sense of motion to the photograph.
“If you don’t mind me asking, what became of the two men in the photograph?” Grasser asked.
“The one in front, Henrik Werth, died in Moscow a few hours before the war ended” Doug replied, “The last I heard, Feldwebel Schultz is still in the Heer.”
He figured that Grasser would probably take a bit too much amusement in knowing that Doug had ended up married to the little sister of the acting CO of the outfit that he had been with. So, Doug didn’t mention Hans being in the photograph. Glancing back over his shoulder, Doug noticed that he had lost track of Marie. Looking over his other shoulder, he saw that Marie was wandering vaguely towards the far wall.
“Is something going on?” Gasser asked.
“My youngest daughter” Doug replied, “There is always something going on with a thirteen-year-old. And because Marie is very much her mother’s daughter, having her being bored in a museum is like juggling atomic bombs.”
“I would rather face the Russian Army again” Grasser said, before he rushed off towards something presumably outside the blast radius.
Panama City, Panama
Kiki might have wanted to sulk in her cabin as the rest of the crew had gone on liberty. The Captain of the SMS Antonia and the Director of Medical Mission had other ideas though. There was a reception at the German Embassy in Panama and wasn’t it a happy coincidence that Doktor Kristina Prinzessin von Preussen zu Hohenzollern happened to be available to attend. It seemed that the wife of the Ambassador was a fan of hers. Because she came from one of the wealthiest families in Germany, the Medical Service was angling be the benefactor of any largess if Frau von Achterberg were in a charitable frame of mind. That was where Kiki came into the picture, whether she liked it or not.
The theme of reception was German-American friendship, and it was being held on the American Independence Day. Even Kiki could tell that the BND’s North American Division must have been behind the planning of the reception, John Volpe, the U.S. Ambassador to Panama had been forced to cross Panama City and make an appearance. He had clearly been less than thrilled by the interruption that had resulted and had only said a few curt words to Kiki when they had been introduced. It might have been because of the unrelated machinations of the BND-NAA and they didn’t even acknowledge her existence, but it was nice to know that Kiki wasn’t the only one who had been pressured to attend the reception.
“This young man who you were going to marry, this Burggraf Hirsch, is he nice?” Frau von Achterberg asked. Of course, that was what she, along with everyone else, wanted to talk about.
“He is” Kiki said. They also seemed to be focused on his title, as if Kiki cared. Both times she had entered into a relationship with Ben had been before he had taken that on. The entire reason why he had accepted a courtly rank was entirely because of her. Her own unconscious snobbery was something that Kiki looked at with considerable regret. If she could have handled him asking her to marry her before he went to the Moon, things would have been different.
“Is it true that he is obsessed with the stars?”
“Benjamin has a Doctorate in Astronomy” Kiki replied, “That said, the last time we talked, he wanted to talk about anything else. The Friedrich Wilhelm University stuck him in a leading role in the construction of the Argelander Observatory and that has basically become another job for him. He did not seem particularly happy with it.”
“He surely has other things in his life” Frau von Achterberg said.
“He loves to fly” Kiki replied, and his interest in Kiki herself. She didn’t feel the need to mention that last part.
“Yes, your Benjamin is a pilot” Frau von Achterberg observed, “Isn’t he.”
At that moment, the fireworks that had been promised all evening started being fired off in the Canal Zone. Saving Kiki from further conversation.