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Friends and Enemies:(Promise for Tomorrow book 1)

By Terri Wangard

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Hagen, Germany
Monday, May 31, 1943

She was too late.
Heidi Wetzel paused at the corner to catch her breath. A line stretched out of the greengrocer’s market and snaked halfway down the block, ending four feet in front of her. She’d hurried for nothing. Deflating with a sigh, she took her place at the end.
The clerk at the creamery had mentioned a delivery of fresh strawberries, her first chance of the year for the tasty treat. Her mouth had watered at the thought of biting into a plump red berry, its juice dribbling down her hand. She shook her head to dislodge the craving. With a line like this, by the time she got inside they’d likely be gone.
A small bottle of milk and a wedge of cheese resided in her shopping net. She needed to get them home, but she’d wait. Wait and hope. At least she could get the one egg allowed her during this ration period.
As her mother often admonished, she must be grateful for what she had. The war threatened to drag on a lot longer; these shortages would get worse.
The woman ahead of her raised a baby to her shoulder. Big blue eyes blinked at Heidi, prompting her smile. A tiny hand clutched his mother’s sleeve. Heidi stroked a gentle finger on the soft skin. The baby giggled.
Tears sprang to her eyes. The happy sound slashed at her soul like knives. If only he was her child. Motherhood threatened to remain an elusive dream as long as the war raged. She rarely saw her husband these days. Erich served aboard a submarine, deployed for months at a time. And wartime seemed too hazardous to bring a new life into the world.
The baby reached for her finger, and she allowed him to grasp it.
She tapped her thumb on his knuckles and elicited another chortle.
His mother twisted around. “Are you making a new friend, Wilhelm?”
Dark smudges below the woman’s eyes bore witness to sleepless nights. Besides her child, she also grappled with a large purse and a laden shopping net.
“May I hold him for a while?” Heidi reached for him before his young mother could shift her armload to surrender him. He was a perfect fit in her arms. “What is he? Six months?”
“Seven months. He was born a month after my husband, Wilhelm, disappeared somewhere on the Eastern Front.”
Heidi stilled her hand smoothing Wilhelm’s downy hair. “I’m so sorry.”
“My mother-in-law insists missing doesn’t mean dead.” The woman’s voice dropped to a whisper. “But I don’t believe I’ll see Wilhelm again. I’ve heard reports that Russian soldiers are executed if they display cowardice. If they kill their own people, I doubt they will treat German prisoners well. If Wilhelm lived long enough to become a prisoner.”
Shivers wracked Heidi, and she cuddled baby Wilhelm close. As if she could protect him from the horrors of war. She sucked in a ragged breath. “My husband serves in a U-boat.”
Pity washed over the woman’s face. Heidi stiffened her spine. She ought to be used to this reaction by now. People always assumed the worst. They had good reason, of course. So many submarines had been lost in recent months. U-boat service had become so dangerous. Erich hadn’t been eager to go back out on patrol after his last leave, but what could he do? He had to play his part in this horrible war.
“Haaa.” Wilhelm’s joyful cry punctured her gloom. She held up her hand and the little guy pressed his tiny hand against hers.
“What a strong boy you are.” She tickled his tummy. His giggles rippled through her like fizzy soda.
She’d almost reached the door to the market when a voice tugged her attention away from Wilhelm.
“Where’d you get the baby?”
Her friend, Adele Hardkopf, stood alongside her. She wore unhappiness like a coat, but whenever Heidi tried to probe, Adele insisted everything was fine. No one close to her had been killed in the war, as far as Heidi knew, but something remained amiss.
Wilhelm tucked his head against her shoulder and peered up at Adele. Heidi slipped her finger under his palm for him to grip.
“This is Wilhelm. We’ve been getting acquainted as we wait to shop.”
“He’s cute.” No smile brightened Adele’s countenance. She stepped aside to wait while Heidi entered the market.
After surrendering Wilhelm to his mother, Heidi looked for the strawberries. An empty bin greeted her. Only a tantalizing aroma lingered.
Nearby, a woman stood with slumped shoulders, staring at the price tag being whisked away by a clerk. “The woman in front of me grabbed the last berries.” The woman blinked at Heidi. “They’re all gone. Like everything else.”
Heidi turned away. If the wrong person heard the woman’s defeatist attitude, she could be arrested for the sad remark. After purchasing her egg, Heidi hurried out to Adele.
“I missed getting strawberries today because I went to my parents’ house first to work in my war garden. My mother wanted me to weed their portion while I was at it.”
Adele looked up as they walked down the sidewalk. “Where’s your sister?”
“Gretchen skipped out early. Something about a girls’ league meeting.” Heidi cradled her shopping net in both hands to protect her egg, balanced on top of the wedge of cheese. She should have thought to bring an egg carrier.
“That’s what I did. Skip out on my mother. She’s gotten impossible to live with.”
Heidi held her reply as the clickety-clack of an electric street car grew louder. A shower of sparks flew from its overhead cable as it passed. She jumped back, but Adele didn’t flinch. “Isn’t your mother involved with all sorts of committees these days?”
“Women’s Labor Service, Red Cross, I don’t know what all else.” Adele waved a hand through the air. “Her favorite project right now is getting me married.”
Heidi jerked her gaze to her friend’s face. Adele had been interested in Martin Schlegel, but he’d been killed in North Africa more than a year ago. “Does she have someone in mind?”
“Yes.” Adele fairly spat out the word before clamping her lips together.
Every reply that came to mind sounded too much like sanctimonious sympathy or a trite distraction.
Adele broke the silence. “Do you expect to see Erich soon?”
“No, his U-boat just put out to sea last month. I’ll count myself lucky if I see him at all this summer.” Being separated was bad enough, but in these uncertain days with enemy bombers flying over Germany, Erich’s absence left a gaping hole in her sense of security.
“I wish Martin and I had married three years ago. Mother objected because I was too young. Twenty is not too young.” A spark of defiance glittered momentarily in her eyes. “She planned on someone more prominent than the Schlegels. I see that now.” Adele stopped at a corner and looked north. “I think I’ll head for the park.”
Heidi bit back an invitation to come home with her for the day. She still needed to stop at the bakery for a loaf of bread, and she had sewing to finish for the Jungvolk. She reached an arm around her friend for a hug. “I’ll be praying for you.”
Tears glistened in Adele’s eyes as she murmured a thank you. Her head drooped as she crossed the street. Heidi watched her for a moment before continuing on her way. Who could her mother have in mind that would distress Adele so?
Reaching her apartment house, Heidi fished a handful of letters out of her mailbox and hiked up the stairs. Inside, she tossed the mail on the table. It slid into a spoon. She’d forgotten to put her breakfast dishes in the sink.
She opened the icebox, but shut the door before putting away her groceries, and pivoted in slow motion back to the table. Still gripping the door handle, she lowered her shopping net to the floor. Five letters splayed across the table’s smooth surface. That big manila envelope came from the U-boat flotilla commander’s headquarters in Brest, France. Erich’s base. Why would headquarters be contacting her?
Her breath stalled in her throat as a prickling sensation bloomed in her stomach, and she fought a wave of dizziness as she reached for the envelope as though it might bite. It could do worse than bite. It could tear apart her world. Her fingers trembled as she loosened the flap and extracted a document. Standardized words adorned the page.
TRUE TO HIS OATH TO THE FLAG HE DIED IN BATTLE FOR
THE FREEDOM OF GREATER GERMANY
No, no. Oh, please God, no.
Beneath the grandiose announcement, Erich’s name appeared with the date May 12, 1943, followed by, “HE DIED A HERO’S DEATH FOR FÜHRER, FOLK AND FATHERLAND.”
Heidi’s hands flew to her mouth, and the document fluttered to the floor. He died a hero’s death for Hitler? No, not Erich. Shouldn’t she intuitively know if something had happened to her husband?
A second letter caught her eye, also from Brest. It bore the sender’s name as Helmut Keller, Erich’s good friend. Her heart beat stuttered, and she fought another wave of dizziness. Helmut had no reason to write to her. Stealing a glance at the vile document lying on the floor, she picked up Helmut’s letter. Tears filled her eyes as she prayed he wrote to inform her of a mistake. Erich’s U-boat had returned to port after all.
But then why didn’t Erich write to her himself? Unless he was wounded. She ripped open the envelope.
Dear Heidi, I am so sorry to tell you…
She sank to the cold hardwood floor, a moan escaping from deep within her. Pain squeezed her like a python. Her lungs struggled to inhale. Erich, oh, Erich, come home. Please come back home to me. How can I go on without you?
She focused tear-filled eyes on the letter.
We heard U-456’s radio messages. They weren’t clear for diving, but an enemy aircraft kept them in sight. They reported a leak in the after compartment and urgently requested help. Then came U-456’s final message: ‘Diving. Cannot stop. Heil Hitler.’
Erich was an excellent friend.
Was an excellent friend. Past tense. Helmut believed Erich dead. She crumpled the letter. How terrible had it been for him? The wounded U-boat diving straight down, unstoppable. When it reached crush depth, it imploded, crumpling like a tin can. And the men in it? Bile rose in her throat, choking her. Hunching over, she rocked back and forth while tears streamed down her cheeks. Her heart picked up its pace, but she still couldn’t breathe. No, God, no. Don’t let it be true. Please. No.
Erich would never walk in the door again? Never again hold her close? No, it couldn’t be true.
Someone entered her apartment and appeared in the archway leading into the kitchen.
“Heidi, why have you left perishables sitting out on the floor?” Scolding words chipped away at her fog. “Where are you? Milk spoils…” Her mother stopped short. “Heidi, whatever are you doing on the floor?” With a harsh intake of breath, Mama snatched up the official document. A moment later her arms came around Heidi. “My dear, dear girl.”
Mama’s hand ran up and down Heidi’s arm as she’d done throughout the years when Heidi experienced disappointments. But this wasn’t like losing out on a role in the school play. This time she’d lost her husband. Erich was dead. She might be sick.
Mama urged her up onto a chair, taking a seat beside her and pushing aside the breakfast dishes. Heidi pressed her hands flat on the table. In front of her sat the Meissen tea pot they’d received as a wedding gift from Erich’s grandmother. A family heirloom, it needed to go back to the Wetzel family.
Erich wouldn’t have children to pass it down to. If only she had a little Wilhelm of her own now, no matter how hard the war would make their lives. A part of her and a part of Erich. She slumped against Mama’s shoulder. How could she care about anything but Erich’s absence?
A knock came at the door, followed by the click of the latch. “Hello.
Anyone home?”
Heidi shook her head. A visitor was not welcome.
“Good day, ladies. The front door hadn’t been shut tight, so I assumed I’d find someone here.” Framed in the archway stood a man wearing a swastika armband and lapel pin. A Nazi Party official. His brushed-back hair gleamed under a thick coat of pomade. “Have I come at a bad time?” Advancing into the room, he fingered the death document. “How unfortunate. I’d hoped to arrive before that.”
Heidi clenched her fingers as icy chills swept through her. Then a wave of hot anger scorched her. How dare he strut into her home without invitation! He didn’t care that Erich died. He regretted that he didn’t get to spring the news on her himself. She lurched to her feet. “I don’t need condolences from the National Socialist Party. Please leave.”
He set his briefcase on the table and pulled out a chair, as though settling in for a visit. “We’ll plan an inspiring funeral for him. Perhaps at the gymnasium he attended. It’ll be impressive. Worthy of your noble sacrifice.”
Clicking open his case, he extracted two folders before adjusting round wire-rimmed glasses. Erich’s photo was clipped to one folder. His service record.
Mist blurred Heidi’s vision and she blinked rapidly. “Get out!”
His head snapped up. So did Mama’s. Nausea churned anew in Heidi’s stomach. Berating Party officials could land one in jail. She sucked in a deep breath.
Taking off his glasses, the man pinched the bridge of his nose. He turned to Mama. “May I ask who you are?”
“I am Frau Steinhorst.” Mama rose beside Heidi and wrapped an arm around her. “I must say, you are quite unsympathetic to my daughter’s loss.”
He exhaled as though striving to keep his patience and selected a form from his papers. “I’m here to help you any way I can.”
“Are you now? Then bring back my husband. And take his place fighting at the front.” The odious man couldn’t be much older than Erich. Why should he be exempt? “I don’t want your pageantry. We have a minister to help with a funeral. Please leave.”
This stupid war was all their fault. How dare they make a mockery of Erich by strutting their pageantry! They wanted to honor themselves, not Erich.
His lips pressed in a grim line, the Party man tossed his papers back into his case and snapped it shut. “I’ll come back in a couple of days when you’re ready to talk. We know you lived in America for several years. Living among the enemy raises questions about your loyalty. You’d be wise to accept our help.”
The door slammed behind him, rattling the windows.
Heidi moved to the living room and sank into an overstuffed brown plaid chair. She traced a finger along the pattern. They’d furnished their apartment with secondhand rejects because new furniture was unavailable during the war. Erich had liked the old thing, saying it was better than a hard, straight-back wooden chair.
Oh, Erich. It was true. He was never coming back. Tears burned in her throat. Her life was over.
Her mother spoke, but buzzing filled Heidi’s ears and she couldn’t distinguish her words. Something about empty threats and a vile little man. Mama pulled her to her feet and led her to the bedroom. Urging her to lie down, Mama covered her with the afghan crocheted by Grandma Ockstadt for her wedding.
“Rest, dear. Rest now.”
Mama bustled out, closing the door behind her. She would put away the milk, notify Papa, the Wetzels, whoever else needed to know.
Heidi turned her face into Erich’s pillow, soaking it with her tears. The image of an imploding submarine refused to grant her peace. What happened to Erich’s body at the moment water pressure crushed the hull? Had he suffered? Was death instantaneous? Probably the worst part was the dive, plunging into the abyss, knowing they were doomed. Some men likely screamed in panic, but not her Erich. He would have been brave. She clung to his pillow. Had his last thoughts turned to her? The clock’s ticking on the bureau grew louder. Tick tock, tick tock.
He’s gone, he’s gone. No, no, no. She clasped a hand over her ear. Even the time mocked her.
Did the men of U-456 have to die? Would surrender have been so bad? Why had the skipper ordered a dive with the boat so badly damaged? Had Erich objected? Or had he been wounded? She’d probably never learn the answers to the questions that haunted her.
Shifting to her side, she searched for his official portrait on the bedside lampstand through tear-filled eyes. His image, so handsome in his naval uniform, shimmered in her watery gaze. She turned the frame to better see him. A smaller frame tipped over. Rising on an elbow, she picked up the fallen picture. Two young girls, arms about each other’s shoulders, laughed up at her. Had she really been so carefree, so innocent of the horror to come?
She studied the image. Rachel Mikolsky had been her best friend during the three years the Steinhorsts had lived in America. Heidi brushed a hand over the picture. She hadn’t seen Rachel in five years, or received a letter from her since America joined the war two years ago. “First I lost your friendship because we’re supposed to be enemies,” she whispered. “Now I’ve lost my husband. I wish… I wish I could turn back time. I wish we’d never come back to Germany.”
Long, lonely, bleak years stretched out in front of her. She turned her face into the pillow and sobbed.

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