Germania: A Novel of Nazi Berlin by Harald Gilbers

Author:Harald Gilbers [Gilbers, Harald]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781250246943
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

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When Oppenheimer questioned his driver, Hoffmann confirmed that the invasion had begun that morning in Normandy. The man’s habitually melancholic gaze became even sadder. Oppenheimer, on the other hand, was electrified by the news. The uncertainty was over. If the attack was successful, then there would once again be a front line in the west, and Germany would be surrounded. The Russians were approaching from the east, and the Americans had made their way to Italy. He had to agree with Ms. Ebner. It really wasn’t a good day for the Gröfaz.

Oppenheimer couldn’t just go back to Zehlendorf and sit in his quiet little room. He made his excuses to Hoffmann, saying that he had decided to have lunch at home, and instructed him to pick him up in two hours. Hoffmann seemed happy with that. Without waiting, he started the engine and raced down Friedrichstraße at breakneck speed. Oppenheimer presumed he had someone to tell about the invasion.

The city center was pulsating with life. It wasn’t just because it was lunchtime. There was something in the air. You couldn’t put your finger on it, and yet it seemed almost tangible. People had caught a whiff of something. Oppenheimer went toward Unter den Linden and felt like a twelve-year-old boy at the beginning of the summer holidays. He felt on top of the world and wanted to kick his heels and run through the Brandenburg Gate to his flat. The world suddenly seemed too small for his energy, which had built up over the years of waiting. Whoopee, here I come, Oppenheimer thought, just like Hans Albers had sung in the film with the Comedian Harmonists many years ago.

But Oppenheimer didn’t act like he was on top of the world. He didn’t cheer. And he definitely didn’t run through the Brandenburg Gate. For a political demonstration like that, the Gestapo would surely have locked him up in Oranienburg straightaway, Vogler or no Vogler. Walking home, he really had to pull himself together not to show his glee. He met numerous people on the street who seemed to be in a similar situation. Overt grins had spread among the passersby. Only the die-hard party members with the NSDAP party emblem pinned to their lapels looked distraught as they hurried through the streets.

Oppenheimer turned right onto the east-west axis. He went past the Adlon and, for the first time in ages, took the time to look up at the bronze goddess of victory, whose chariot high up above the Brandenburg Gate was being pulled by four horses in the direction of the city center. He went past the gatehouse, where Mars, the god of war, stood sheathing his sword. Oppenheimer hoped that it would all be over soon and Mars out of a job. But he knew the dying was not yet over. It had only just started at the western front. It was too early to start celebrating.

And yet Oppenheimer walked toward Großer Stern with a spring in his step.

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