The Willow Wren by Philipp Schott

Author:Philipp Schott
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: ECW Press
Published: 2021-03-23T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

One Sunday in late February was the second last time Papa visited Colditz and I remember it because it was the last time he spoke to me directly.

It was another relentlessly grey February day, distinguished only by a noticeable increase in traffic on the Schönbach to Colditz road. When I write “traffic,” I do not mean cars and trucks. There were some, but very few. It was mostly people on foot or with small wagons pulled by donkeys or horses. These wagons were piled high with furniture and household goods. Sometimes a small child was perched on top. One of these children waved to me. He had the happiest face I had seen in a while. They were mostly heading away from Colditz. I supposed that this was because the road eventually led west. Some of these people might even be coming all the way from Silesia, which I had heard had fallen. Rumours were circulating that the Russians killed every German they found there — every German who had not had the good sense to flee. Man, woman or child. These people would rather be under American occupation than Russian, so they were going west, as far west as they could. I kept walking east, unnerved. To settle my anxiety, I thought of my spot in the forest under the oaks. Winter is difficult even there, but in spring we can survive.

Papa was already at home when I got there. He was in uniform rather than his usual Sunday suit. His comb-over was oiled carefully in place, but his face was gaunt, and he had large purple-grey bags under his eyes. He smiled at me and greeted me warmly. He then declared that he would like to speak to each of us children alone for a moment. He indicated that I should go in first. Mama ignored these proceedings, busying herself with preparing lunch, such as it was.

Papa sat down on the edge of the bed. He motioned me to sit beside him.

“How is the KLV-Lager?”

“It is all right, Papa, similar to before, except that the older boys have gone to fight, and we now have many new younger boys from Dresden and elsewhere.”

“Are you learning useful things in the Hitler Youth?”

“I suppose.” I did not want to encourage this line of questioning as I was worried how he would react if I let slip how much I hated the Hitler Youth and the military training. I suspect he knew, but it had remained unspoken between us.

He smiled and paused for a moment. “Remember what I told you when those boys were bullying you in Leipzig a few years ago. You are a Schott. You might not be one of the best fighters, but you will be one of the best thinkers.”

I nodded, looking at the floor.

“I don’t know what will happen. I have faith in the Führer and faith in the nation, but I’m not stupid enough to think that a German victory is guaranteed anymore.

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