"I'll only be gone for a little while, I promise," Franz said. He kneeled in front of his son. His hands reached out to cup the boy's face, but Theodore wouldn't let him. He swatted his father's hand away and crossed his arms over his chest, his expression pouty.
"But why?" He mumbled.
"Because I have to serve for our country, for Germany."
"But why?"
Because without brave men like your father, our country would not be safe." Marlene said. As she spoke she squeezed Franz's shoulder tightly.
"Because of men like Papa you've got light in the house and a garden to play in. You've got running water and a clean plate that your Mama can put good food on." Franz added.
"But the food used to be better."
"Once we win this war it'll be even better than ever."
"But why?" Theodore didn't wait for an answer. He threw himself around his father's neck and started to cry. "Why do you have to go Papa? Can't the neighbors?"
"They're going as well. If you were old enough you'd join us." Franz whispered. His voice cracked slightly, the toddler didn't notice it but Marlene did. She smiled a sad smile. The tears made her eyes look glassy. But when did a lover's tears ever hold back a soldier from going into war? "I'll be home soon," Franz promised. "And I'll bring you something. What do you want? A toy car?"
"Do you get those at the front?" Theodore asked with a sniffle.
"No," Franz replied with a laugh, "but on my way home I can pick one up."
"Oh don't bother to Papa! Just come home as quickly as you can!" This time it was Franz who went in for the hug with his son. He felt the tears press against his eyelids, but he blinked them away.
"I'll be home. I promise." He kissed his son on the cheek and then stood upright again. He scooped Greta out of his wife's arms and kissed her on the cheek. She giggled and grabbed his face. She didn't understand the concept of war: or that he would be gone for a longer period of time.
"Come back home, Franz. That's all I ask." Marlene whispered. Franz smiled and gently leaned his forehead against hers.
"Haven't I always?"
"I love you." She whispered very lowly.
"I love you too." He tilted her chin up gently and gave her a quick kiss on the lips. "And I promise that I will come home." But a promise such as the one he made that night was impossible to believe. He couldn't know that he would return. Not even God could do that. Because even if God ruled the world and the rain, God didn't rule the reign of bullets that would descend over him on the front.
***
"On some weekends I'll come home and visit, I promise," Martin said. He patted Greta on the head and Theodore on the shoulder. "And before you know it I'll be back again."
"But why?" Greta asked as she tugged at his long leather coat.
"I'm going to help a very smart man create a very important cure. One that will help our soldiers at the front."
"But why do you have to go to Strassburg for that?"
"Because the university he's conducting his research in is in Strassburg."
"Is it pretty there?"
"Very much so." He said with a smile. "It's a charming city. One day when you're older I'll take you with me. All of you."
"But I want to go with you now!" Greta said angrily.
"Don't be so pushy, Greta." Theodore scolded. "Papa needs to go to serve Germany. It's important work."
"Thank you, Theodore," Martin said with an amused and proud smile, "Your brother is right, Greta. I have some very important things to work on. If you two were there I'd be too distracted - I can't spare time for children's books or games of tag when I'm at the university." He bopped her on the nose playfully. "But I'll write to you when I have time. I promise."
"But Papa I can't read!"
"Mama will read my letters to you, darling." He gave her small hand a squeeze. He turned to Marlene who held their baby and gave him a peck on the cheek. "I'll write to you as well, Marlene."
"And I'll answer the very morning your letter arrives." Her reply made him smile and his cheeks flushed a slight shade of pink. Marlene knew exactly what to say to make his imagination run wild, she always had.
They shared a kiss. It was soft but deep. Then he picked up both of his children, one on each arm, and marched out of the door with them. Marlene followed, but she stayed in the doorway. Once he reached the stairs down to the street he set his children down.
"You two behave," he said, but his voice was light, "and make sure your Mama doesn't get too lonely without me."
He righted his posture and gave Greta and Theodore a push toward the house and their mother.
He turned on his heel and walked down the steps. By the time he'd reached the car, his family stood at the top of the stairs. Marlene gently cradled the baby in her arms. Theodore and Greta waved. He blew them a kiss and stepped inside the vehicle. As it drove off he couldn't help but look back.
He saw his children burst down from the stairs and onto the street where they ran as fast as they could, waving and calling goodbye to the car that slowly chugged off. Martin waved back and saluted them.
The car rounded a bend and they fell out of sight.
That was it.
He was going to Strassburg.
The apartment that was provided for Franz Weiher by Rolf Schneider was small but cozy. It was situated in a charming house not far from the University campus. Martin marveled at the pretty and old building as he trotted up the steps to the front door. He unlocked it and as per instruction, climbed the stairs to the third floor where his apartment was to the right. It took a second or two to unlock the door. The key was rusty and so was the lock.
The apartment had a small bathroom with the most minuscule shower he'd ever seen in his life, and a small bedroom with a single bed pushed up against the wall across from the window. The view of the window was the courtyard of a building that stood behind his own. The third room had a kitchenette and a round table with three chairs. There was an unreasonably large window that, although it looked at the same courtyard, had a much prettier view. Martin went back and forth between the two windows several times and tried to understand how one of them opened into a picturesque courtyard and the other displayed an almost ugly painting. He concluded that due to the angle, the ivy lining the house's wall either looked like a purposeful design or a child-like scribble. He chuckled to himself and searched for a pencil and paper. He drew the two different views as detailed and as exaggerated as he could, then he folded the paper up and put it down on the table. He'd send it back to Marlene and the children.
On the dining room table, there was a fine bottle of French wine standing atop a map of the Elsass. A basket of fruit and bread stood next to it, it was smaller than the one he'd received when Schneider had first reached out to Franz Weiher, but it was nonetheless a treat. He sat down and grabbed an apple. He bit into it and reveled at the taste. It was crunchy and a tad bit sour, just how he liked his apples best. He noticed a small note and picked it up.
Dear Kamerad Weiher
I hope you enjoy the basket I have prepared for you. The wine is one of my favorites. I advise you to drink it on the balcony, the view is quite pretty. Best of luck on Monday!
Greetings
Rolf Schneider
The note was short and kind. Martin immediately answered: he was sure that if he waited he'd forget. He dreaded the work at the university already and he guessed he wouldn't have much time to answer notes. He'd probably be spending the next few months catching up on medical knowledge that he didn't have but was expected to. The only hope he had was that Franz's memory might kick in and help him. But he had no idea if it would or wouldn't and there was nothing he could do but wait and see.
He took Schneider's advice and popped open the bottle. He sat outside, half on the balcony and half in the apartment - the balcony wasn't big enough to place his chair on fully. The sun began to set, bathing Strassburg in a warm glow.
Martin pushed all thoughts away and all feelings of guilt and fear deep down. He smiled to himself as he sipped the red. It was deliciously French. He whipped out the pen and paper again and made another pencil drawing.
This one he would keep for himself. He drew a handsome German man seated on a balcony big enough to hold several chairs. He made the sunset dip into the man's glass, so it looked like the sky itself was gifting the man his wine. He added two more men next to the thoughtfully smiling German. One of them slightly resembled Schneider, and the other was a random sketch: a face that could but might not resemble Sievers.
Martin studied the picture carefully after he'd finished. It was no masterpiece, he'd never been talented at drawing or whatever, but it was alright. He slipped it into the pocket of his coat.
"Whatever you have in stock for me Strassburg, I'm ready for it." He said to himself quietly.
But Strassburg didn't answer.
And Martin Weiher was incredibly wrong to believe that he was even slightly prepared for what he'd witness and take part in his time in the occupied city.
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