Berlin blood

Several days passed. Every day Gunther left their temporary shelter to get food from warehouses that were no longer guarded and to listen to the latest news from Soviet soldiers who sometimes passed by. On one of these days, he heard that Germany had announced surrender. And on that day everything fell silent. You could no longer hear the bursts of machine guns, you could no longer hear bombs exploding. — How is it on the surface? — Ilsa asked when Gunther returned with a full backpack on his back. Gunther threw it off his shoulders and looked gloomily at Becker. — Germany raised the white flag. — Ilsa’s eyes sparkled with tears after his words. The German army officially lost. “And now the streets are quiet.” Now Soviet soldiers are patrolling the city and detaining anyone who looks suspicious in any way. Especially those who have symbolism. — Gunther pointed to his forearm, on which a swastika was sewn to his uniform. — We will sit here. “Ilsa said decisively. “We have no other choice, I don’t want you to get caught.” “I wouldn’t want that either, Ilsa.” — Gunther sighed sadly. — We are all pawns. The real killers are those from above. But do Soviet soldiers really care about this? We will be put on trial, but the leaders have long fled. “But it can’t be that everyone ran away, someone had to stay.” “Believe me, even if there are those who remain, they will be able to avoid such a fate.” “Then we need to escape now, Gunther.” Maybe we can hide in the crowd? I don’t want to be found here. They may not touch me, but here you are. I’m so afraid for you. “Ilse pressed herself close to Gunther, seeking reassurance in his arms. Gunther wrapped his arms around her back and hugged her tightly, and buried his nose in her hair. “Everything will be fine, don’t worry,” he whispered. — It’s already late. Need rest. “Yes, of course,” Ilsa nodded and pulled away first. While Gunther changed clothes and washed himself, Ilse made the bed. The linen was gray, with dried stains, but now Ilsa thought that it was better to sleep in such conditions than to lie dead somewhere on the street. When they lay down on a small bed and turned off the night light, Gunther looked at the dark ceiling, remembering every crack in it. “What do you think,” Ilsa asked quietly, “how will we be remembered in the eyes of the next generation?” Gunther thought for a long time what to answer. He asked himself this question more than once, and each time he always had one, unchanged answer. “I think,” Richter said also quietly, “we will remain lost for them, with blood on our hands.” They will not forgive us for the horror that we have done. They will be ashamed of us and our actions. Wait, Ilsa, this is just the beginning. Those who had already been found had not yet been executed and were taken prisoner. They have not yet revealed all the information about the camps, about those killed, about those who were tortured and raped. And soon all this will be made public. And then, dear Ilse, it will get even worse. We will all be put on the same level, and no one will even look at the individual stories of the soldiers, no one will deal with the fact that many had to make a deal with their conscience and kill to save their own skins, no one will think about what we had to go through. No one knows that they set a condition for us: either fight voluntarily-forcibly, or die at this very second. And believe me, those who did not want to submit to the regime were already eaten by worms long ago. Therefore, we will always be murderers, executioners of other people’s lives. We are evil. And if you look from all sides, Ilsa, then all people are mired in this evil, absolutely everyone. For example, we kill animals for our own benefit, but we mourn our family, our soldiers, and don’t even think about what it’s like for a pack when one of its members is killed. We are incredibly paradoxical, Ilsa, and we all walk on a very thin line of life, catching the balance between two sides: evil and good. — Maybe, Gunther, we shouldn’t go anywhere. — Ilsa said suddenly. “Just escape outside of Berlin, that’s all.” I don’t think we are needed abroad. There are more than enough people like us there. And our move to another country will not save you from the fact that you are German. We cannot escape from ourselves. Whether you are in Paris or America or England, you will remain an executioner everywhere. — Maybe you’re right. But even here no one is waiting for us with open arms. Gunther turned to face Ilse. At that moment, the roar of an engine was heard outside the door, and then the footsteps of soldiers and Russian speech, which frightened them both. Ilsa closed her eyes out of habit, Gunther held his breath and prayed that the Russians would pass by and not try to pull the metal door. Because if they find out that it is closed, they will probably want to check it and will begin to break it until they break it and find them. However, this time his prayers were answered, and the soldiers passed by, laughing loudly. Gunther and Ilse hid in a small room for a whole week. As the patrols died down and the Russians became fewer, Richter informed Ilsa that they were leaving today, but first they needed to replenish their supplies of food and water. The young people left their shelter early in the morning. Both of them changed into civilian clothes, and now looked little like an officer and servant of the late Fuhrer. They walked along the broken sidewalk, trying not to look back and act calmly. Occasionally, passers-by came out to meet them, who, just like them, were in no hurry. The cold May air was refreshing and gave clarity of mind. The sun periodically peeked out from behind the clouds, and for the first time Ilsa looked with genuine joy at how it illuminated the city. They passed the Brandenburg Gate, through which the light of the rays passed. The gate seemed to glow and bathe in its rays, and Ilsa stopped to look a little at this light. It seemed to her that this was a good sign. That they will succeed and that the bad is left behind. She hoped for luck, which they undoubtedly had. While Ilse was looking at the light, Gunther collected water from the nearest pump, which, surprisingly, remained intact after the bombing and functioned as expected. On the way back, they found boys playing ball in one of the destroyed courtyards. The children were having fun, laughing and were very happy, and this could not help but please the eye. So, everything turned out not so bad. At least for civilians. Closer to nine in the morning, Soviet soldiers began to appear on the streets, and Gunther tried to look calm, as if he were one of the civilians, and not a former pilot who had once thrown bombs from his planes at their comrades. The soldiers passed by, looking at the couple indifferently. Nobody stopped them and demanded documents. It looks like everything is quiet now. There were fewer people, and Gunther understood why: everyone was leaving en masse for neighboring countries. *** Evening was setting in. The sun left them again. Gunther and Ilse emerged from the shelter completely collected. In his hands Gunther held a black bag in which the uniform was stored. He was going to get rid of her completely. “Wait for me here,” Gunther said and walked away from Ilse a few meters to throw the bag into the dug hole. But as soon as he took a couple of steps, he suddenly heard Russian speech. Gunther stood rooted to the spot and slowly turned around. Two soldiers with machine guns at the ready were walking towards him. Gunther understood that if he moved, they would shoot him, and he was not going to die today. With a calm expression on his face, even though his heart was pounding, he raised his hands up, throwing the bag to the ground. The soldiers approached him, and one of them leaned down to look at the inside of the bag. As soon as he opened it, the soldier’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He called out to his comrade, urging him to look at the contents. The second soldier was also surprised. A second later, Gunther was already taken by the arms and led in the other direction. He looked at Ilsa one last time, smiled at her and winked. This was a sign for her. They managed to develop a plan in case Gunther was caught. And now this plan was useful to her. She would have to follow the news and use the money they had saved for tickets to come to his trial, which, as Gunther assured, would definitely take place against him. Gunther was taken to a special camp for military prisoners. There were enough people in the camp, and Gunther seemed to feel like he was in his own environment, among his own people, but he felt like he was out of place here. He didn’t want to share space with the Nazis. After all, he so wanted to avoid all this, to stay out of business, to get away with it. But fate was unkind to him. Apparently you will have to answer for all your actions. Gunther looked around the camp. No one looked at him back, no one cared about him. He walked to the far corner and sat down on the bare ground, trying to turn off the panic. What will happen to him now and will he be able to get out alive? Or is he still waiting for prison, or even worse: death? After Gunther, several more people were brought in, among whom there was not a single familiar face. They were all forced to put on uniforms and then fed. It was meager, but still Gunther was glad to have a small bowl of food. By the end of the day, Gunther had made friends with several soldiers, and they quietly talked about who fought where, what Soviet cities they had visited, and how many Soviet soldiers they had killed. Night crept up unnoticed, and before going to bed Gunther thought that so far everything was not so bad. He just needs to wait, and then he will return to Ilsa.