The Partisan by Patrick Worrall

Author:Patrick Worrall [Worrall, Patrick]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Union Square & Co.
Published: 2023-04-25T00:00:00+00:00

24

East Germany

The little Air France Heron’s wheels were almost going sideways when they hit the asphalt at Schönefeld. A storm was blowing itself out and the delegation that had formed up to welcome the chess players were having their hair and clothes whipped around.

There was only one other British contestant, a Jewish schoolboy in a yarmulke, whom Michael recognized from the Excelsior. Few Westerners were taking part in the tournament. Some countries, including France and Iceland, had formally boycotted the event in response to recent acts of Warsaw Pact aggression. Many other players would not risk a journey to the East at this time of tension.

Michael had never been treated so deferentially before in his life. The air hostess insisted on taking his suitcase from his hands and said the porters would bring it through for him. The state officials waited stoically in a small phalanx, holding bouquets of flowers with both hands, trying to shield the petals from the wind. A border guard checked Michael’s papers. Another brought his case back and returned it to him stiffly. The man did not reply when Michael said: “Danke.” Apart from that, the East Germans seemed friendly enough.

It took an hour to get to Lake Werbellin, up Autobahn Eleven. It was clear and calm now. Adolf Hitler had built the road in 1936, said the driver. He said it without pride or shame. The man’s name was Horst and he was tall and thin, with prematurely gray hair. He had a bone-dry sense of humor that was hard to tune into at first. Michael liked him immediately.

Horst said: “You’ll love this place. It’s copy of Artek. You know Artek?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Whoa! Artek is … oh, my God.” The man shook his head. “Like the mouse, your mouse. In America.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Mr. Mouse. My God.”

“Mickey? Mickey Mouse?”

“Sure. Like his castle.”

“It’s like Walt Disney Land for young Communists?”

“Exactly.”

“Sounds interesting.”

“Everything here. Fishing, swimming, all kinds of sportive. You like the sportive?”

“Oh, yes,” said Michael. “Boxing, weight lifting, that kind of thing.” He flexed an unimpressive arm. “We’re all very strong in England.”

Horst looked at him doubtfully. “Most of the kids are gone now, after the summer. But there is technical school. Few kids all year round. Later they will perform. Flags, torches, more flags. There’s a song about peace all over the world. We know how to enjoy ourselves here.”

The parade went on for nearly two hours and Michael could see the back of Yulia’s head from his seat, but no one was allowed to move. The children chanted the names of Ulbricht, Ernst Thaelmann and the current chairman of the Politburo of the Soviet Union. There was an excruciating speech in English, welcoming Michael and the other contestants.

The youngsters applauded warmly. Both girls and boys wore caps, like wartime RAF pilots, and many of the girls wore trousers. They sang and paraded with very serious expressions without a break. The thought occurred to Michael that the Warsaw Pact nations would surely beat the capitalist countries if the two sides sent their respective children into battle.

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