Deaths diary: cologne. The visitor

DEATHS DIARY: COLOGNE

 
 The fallen hours of May 30.
 
 Im sure Liesel Meminger was fast asleep when more than a thousand bomber planes flew toward a place known as Kln. For me, the result was five hundred people or thereabouts. Fifty thousand others ambled homelessly around the ghostly piles of rubble, trying to work out which way was which, and which slabs of broken home belonged to whom.
 
 Five hundred souls.
 
 I carried them in my fingers, like suitcases. Or Id throw them over my shoulder. It was only the children I carried in my arms.
 
 By the time I was finished, the sky was yellow, like burning newspaper. If I looked closely, I could see the words, reporting headlines, commentating on the progress of the war and so forth. How Id have loved to pull it all down, to screw up the newspaper sky and toss it away. My arms ached and I couldnt afford to burn my fingers. There was still so much work to be done.
 
 As you might expect, many people died instantly. Others took a while longer. There were several more places to go, skies to meet and souls to collect, and when I came back to Cologne later on, not long after the final planes, I managed to notice a most unique thing.
 
 I was carrying the charred soul of a teenager when I looked gravely up at what was now a sulfuric sky. A group of ten-year-old girls was close by. One of them called out.
 
 Whats that?
 
 Her arm extended and her finger pointed out the black, slow object, falling from above. It began as a black feather, lilting, floating. Or a piece of ash. Then it grew larger. The same girla redhead with period frecklesspoke once again, this time more emphatically. What is that?
 
 Its a body, another girl suggested. Black hair, pigtails, and a crooked part down the center.
 
 Its another bomb!
 
 It was too slow to be a bomb.
 
 With the adolescent spirit still burning lightly in my arms, I walked a few hundred meters with the rest of them. Like the girls, I remained focused on the sky. The last thing I wanted was to look down at the stranded face of my teenager. A pretty girl. Her whole death was now ahead of her.
 
 Like the rest of them, I was taken aback when a voice lunged out. It was a disgruntled father, ordering his kids inside. The redhead reacted. Her freckles lengthened into commas. But, Papa, look.
 
 The man took several small steps and soon figured out what it was. Its the fuel, he said.
 
 What do you mean?
 
 The fuel, he repeated. The tank. He was a bald man in disrupted bedclothes. They used up all their fuel in that one and got rid of the empty container. Look, theres another one over there.
 
 And there!
 
 Kids being kids, they all searched frantically at that point, trying to find an empty fuel container floating to the ground.
 
 The first one landed with a hollow thud.
 
 Can we keep it, Papa?
 
 No. He was bombed and shocked, this papa, and clearly not in the mood. We cannot keep it.
 
 Why not?
 
 Im going to ask my papa if I can have it, said another of the girls.
 
 Me too.
 
 Just past the rubble of Cologne, a group of kids collected empty fuel containers, dropped by their enemies. As usual, I collected humans. I was tired. And the year wasnt even halfway over yet.
 
 
 
  

THE VISITOR

 
 A new ball had been found for Himmel Street soccer. That was the good news. The somewhat unsettling news was that a division of the NSDAP was heading toward them.
 
 Theyd progressed all the way through Molching, street by street, house by house, and now they stood at Frau Dillers shop, having a quick smoke before they continued with their business.
 
 There was already a smattering of air-raid shelters in Molching, but it was decided soon after the bombing of Cologne that a few more certainly wouldnt hurt. The NSDAP was inspecting each and every house in order to see if its basement was a good enough candidate.
 
 From afar, the children watched.
 
 They could see the smoke rising out of the pack.
 
 Liesel had only just come out and shed walked over to Rudy and Tommy. Harald Mollenhauer was retrieving the ball. Whats going on up there?
 
 Rudy put his hands in his pockets. The party. He inspected his friends progress with the ball in Frau Holtzapfels front hedge. Theyre checking all the houses and apartment blocks.
 
 Instant dryness seized the interior of Liesels mouth. For what?
 
 Dont you know anything? Tell her, Tommy.
 
 Tommy was perplexed. Well, I dont know.
 
 Youre hopeless, the pair of you. They need more air-raid shelters.
 
 Whatbasements?
 
 No, attics. Of course basements. Jesus, Liesel, you really are thick, arent you?
 
 The ball was back.
 
 Rudy!
 
 He played onto it and Liesel was still standing. How could she get back inside without looking too suspicious? The smoke up at Frau Dillers was disappearing and the small crowd of men was starting to disperse. Panic generated in that awful way. Throat and mouth. Air became sand. Think, she thought. Come on, Liesel, think, think.
 
 Rudy scored.
 
 Faraway voices congratulated him.
 
 Think, Liesel
 
 She had it.
 
 Thats it, she decided, but I have to make it real.
 
 As the Nazis progressed down the street, painting the letters LSR on some of the doors, the ball was passed through the air to one of the bigger kids, Klaus Behrig.
 

LSR
 Luft Schutz Raum:
 Air-Raid Shelter
 

 
 The boy turned with the ball just as Liesel arrived, and they collided with such force that the game stopped automatically. As the ball rolled off, players ran in. Liesel held her grazed knee with one hand and her head with the other. Klaus Behrig only held his right shin, grimacing and cursing. Where is she? he spat. Im going to kill her!
 
 There would be no killing.
 
 It was worse.
 
 A kindly party member had seen the incident and jogged dutifully down to the group. What happened here? he asked.
 
 Well, shes a maniac. Klaus pointed at Liesel, prompting the man to help her up. His tobacco breath formed a smoky sandhill in front of her face.
 
 I dont think youre in any state to keep playing, my girl, he said. Where do you live?
 
 Im fine, she answered, really. I can make it myself. Just get off me, get off me!
 
 That was when Rudy stepped in, the eternal stepper-inner. Ill help you home, he said. Why couldnt he just mind his own business for a change?
 
 Really, Liesel said. Just keep playing, Rudy. I can make it.
 
 No, no. He wouldnt be shifted. The stubbornness of him! Itll only take a minute or two.
 
 Again, she had to think, and again, she was able. With Rudy holding her up, she made herself drop once more to the ground, on her back. My papa, she said. The sky, she noticed, was utterly blue. Not even the suggestion of a cloud. Could you get him, Rudy?
 
 Stay there. To his right, he called out, Tommy, watch her, will you? Dont let her move.
 
 Tommy snapped into action. Ill watch her, Rudy. He stood above her, twitching and trying not to smile, as Liesel kept an eye on the party man.
 
 A minute later, Hans Hubermann was standing calmly above her.
 
 Hey, Papa.
 
 A disappointed smile mingled with his lips. I was wondering when this would happen.
 
 He picked her up and helped her home. The game went on, and the Nazi was already at the door of a lodging a few doors up. No one answered. Rudy was calling out again.
 
 Do you need help, Herr Hubermann?
 
 No, no, you keep playing, Herr Steiner. Herr Steiner. You had to love Liesels papa.
 
 Once inside, Liesel gave him the information. She attempted to find the middle ground between silence and despair. Papa.
 
 Dont talk.
 
 The party, she whispered. Papa stopped. He fought off the urge to open the door and look up the street. Theyre checking basements to make shelters.
 
 He set her down. Smart girl, he said, then called for Rosa.
 
 They had a minute to come up with a plan. A shemozzle of thoughts.
 
 Well just put him in Liesels room, was Mamas suggestion. Under the bed.
 
 Thats it? What if they decide to search our rooms as well?
 
 Do you have a better plan?
 
 Correction: they did not have a minute.
 
 A seven-punch knock was hammered into the door of 33 Himmel Street, and it was too late to move anyone anywhere.
 
 The voice.
 
 Open up!
 
 Their heartbeats fought each other, a mess of rhythm. Liesel tried to eat hers down. The taste of heart was not too cheerful.
 
 Rosa whispered, Jesus, Mary
 
 On this day, it was Papa who rose to the occasion. He rushed to the basement door and threw a warning down the steps. When he returned, he spoke fast and fluent. Look, there is no time for tricks. We could distract him a hundred different ways, but there is only one solution. He eyed the door and summed up. Nothing.
 
 That was not the answer Rosa wanted. Her eyes widened. Nothing? Are you crazy?
 
 The knocking resumed.
 
 Papa was strict. Nothing. We dont even go down therenot a care in the world.
 
 Everything slowed.
 
 Rosa accepted it.
 
 Clenched with distress, she shook her head and proceeded to answer the door.
 
 Liesel. Papas voice sliced her up. Just stay calm, verstehst?
 
 Yes, Papa.
 
 She tried to concentrate on her bleeding leg.
 
 Aha!
 
 At the door, Rosa was still asking the meaning of this interruption when the kindly party man noticed Liesel.
 
 The maniacal soccer player! He grinned. Hows the knee? You dont usually imagine the Nazis being too chirpy, but this man certainly was. He came in and made as if to crouch and view the injury.
 
 Does he know? Liesel thought. Can he smell were hiding a Jew?
 
 Papa came from the sink with a wet cloth and soaked it onto Liesels knee. Does it sting? His silver eyes were caring and calm. The scare in them could easily be mistaken as concern for the injury.
 
 Rosa called across the kitchen, It cant sting enough. Maybe it will teach her a lesson.
 
 The party man stood and laughed. I dont think this girl is learning any lessons out there, Frau. . . ?
 
 Hubermann. The cardboard contorted.
 
 . . . Frau HubermannI think she teaches lessons. He handed Liesel a smile. To all those boys. Am I right, young girl?
 
 Papa shoved the cloth into the graze and Liesel winced rather than answered. It was Hans who spoke. A quiet sorry, to the girl.
 
 There was the discomfort of silence then, and the party man remembered his purpose. If you dont mind, he explained, I need to inspect your basement, just for a minute or two, to see if its suitable for a shelter.
 
 Papa gave Liesels knee a final dab. Youll have a nice bruise there, too, Liesel. Casually, he acknowledged the man above them. Certainly. First door on the right. Please excuse the mess.
 
 I wouldnt worryit cant be worse than some of the others Ive seen today. . . . This one?
 
 Thats it.
 

THE LONGEST THREE MINUTES
 IN HUBERMANN HISTORY
 Papa sat at the table. Rosa prayed in the corner,
 mouthing the words. Liesel was cooked: her knee,
 her chest, the muscles in her arms. I doubt any
 of them had the audacity to consider what theyd
 do if the basement was appointed as a shelter.
 They had to survive the inspection first.
 

 
 They listened to Nazi footsteps in the basement. There was the sound of measuring tape. Liesel could not ward off the thought of Max sitting beneath the steps, huddled around his sketchbook, hugging it to his chest.
 
 Papa stood. Another idea.
 
 He walked to the hall and called out, Everything good down there?
 
 The answer ascended the steps, on top of Max Vandenburg. Another minute, perhaps!
 
 Would you like some coffee, some tea?
 
 No thank you!
 
 When Papa returned, he ordered Liesel to fetch a book and for Rosa to start cooking. He decided the last thing they should do was sit around looking worried. Well, come on, he said loudly, move it, Liesel. I dont care if your knee hurts. You have to finish that book, like you said.
 
 Liesel tried not to break. Yes, Papa.
 
 What are you waiting for? It took great effort to wink at her, she could tell.
 
 In the corridor, she nearly collided with the party man.
 
 In trouble with your papa, huh? Never mind. Im the same with my own children.
 
 They walked their separate ways, and when Liesel made it to her room, she closed the door and fell to her knees, despite the added pain. She listened first to the judgment that the basement was too shallow, then the goodbyes, one of which was sent down the corridor. Goodbye, maniacal soccer player!
 
 She remembered herself. Auf Wiedersehen! Goodbye!
 
 The Dream Carrier simmered in her hands.
 
 According to Papa, Rosa melted next to the stove the moment the party man was gone. They collected Liesel and made their way to the basement, removing the well-placed drop sheets and paint cans. Max Vandenburg sat beneath the steps, holding his rusty scissors like a knife. His armpits were soggy and the words fell like injuries from his mouth.
 
 I wouldnt have used them, he quietly said. Im. . . He held the rusty arms flat against his forehead. Im so sorry I put you through that.
 
 Papa lit a cigarette. Rosa took the scissors.
 
 Youre alive, she said. We all are.
 
 It was too late now for apologies.