Traitor by Gudrun Pausewang

Author:Gudrun Pausewang
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780822571988
Publisher: Lerner Publishing Group

12

Every day, Grandmother watched for the postman and whenever she saw him coming up the slope, she ran toward him.

“Still nothing from Seff?”

“Still nothing.”

Grandmother could no longer think of anything else. Seff’s letter was already over a week late. Holy Mother of God! Mother, on the other hand, very seldom spoke of Seff, almost as if she believed that just mentioning his name would bring him into danger.

On New Year’s Eve, Mother shut the bar. There was no reason to celebrate the arrival of the new year. It was awaited with fear. And in any case, there would only have been a few alcoholics and loners hunched over their beers.

So it happened that Mother actually sat with Grandmother, Felix, and Anna for a whole evening. But the mood was depressed. They were all thinking about Seff. Mother dug out their favorite board game, ludo, on the grounds that “they should get their minds off it.” They played unenthusiastically. Grandmother was first to lose.

“It’s because of the war that I’ve lost,” she complained. And then, even louder, as in an explosion, “If only it was finally over—whatever happens!”

Yes. That was exactly it. Anna nodded to her. She had never been aware of that wish before. But now Grandmother’s outburst had planted it firmly in her mind. Defeat was already looming in any case. If they were going to lose the war, then let it happen as quickly as possible. So that Seff would finally be out of danger!

And Maxim.

And she herself.

But now Felix came to life. He jumped up and shouted at Grandmother, “What do you mean ‘whatever happens’? You surely don’t want the Russians to win! Do you?”

“I want Seff to stay alive!” she cried and burst into tears.

Felix looked at her scornfully. “You still don’t get it— life is not the most important thing.”

“What is most important then?” asked Mother.

“Well, the Fatherland of course! The Fatherland!” shouted Felix heatedly. “And this war is a holy war! Against the Bolsheviks, against the subhuman races! It’s lucky that not all Germans are as feeble as you. Otherwise the Final Victory would really be in danger!”

He turned to Anna. “Let the old people falter—but you! Why you? You’ve learned the same as me! That we must defeat the Reds! It’s a matter of the future of Germany, the future of the whole of Europe! Everyone must stand together, must give their all, even their lives! But you—you think the Russians are people the same as us, and read Russian books and accept that the Russians will win the war and . . . and . . .”

He stared at her furiously. Now she was furious too. So he was poking around in her room. Yes, she had brought the Dostoevsky book home with her, with Gisela’s permission, to read it again, and she had carelessly put it on her bedside table.

“. . . and you’re not prepared to risk your life either!”

“Stay out of my room!” she flung at him. “I don’t

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