Excerpt

1

It wasnt until Esther Claassen had shut her iron oven door that she realized her left hand was clutching her throat. Hermanns words drifting in from the blue room brought on the old fearof a mother losing her son.

From the Advanced Hitler Youth, Uncle Peter, I enter the Fhrers Reichswehr (the leaders defense force). I can hardly wait to join the battalion, boots, uniform, all for the glory of the Fhrer.

A tragic memory of three years ago rose along with the heavy lump in her throat.

Wheres Hansa? his twin brother, Christian, had called. Youll find him. He is never far away. Actually, it was rare for the twins to be separated. Just where was Hansa? That cold April day seemed as yesterday.

Theyd searched under the front porch. Hermann, the longest-legged, ran down the pasture toward the clover field. Christian tunneled through the hayloft. Still Hansa hadnt been found.

Esther concluded he was playing one of his tricks and would soon burst from under a raspberry bower.

Then the old hired man, Otto, said, Maybe wed better check the pond.

A grip frigid as a Siberian wind clutched Esthers heart. The pond was deep, purple, colder than the North Sea.

He knows well enough to stay away from the pond, especially on a cold day like this. Gerhard assured her the boy couldnt possibly be near the pond.

Neither of the twins yet knew how to swim. Old Otto warned them almost daily how icy the water was.

Nevertheless, something drew her to the pond. At first she was unable to call out, terror-stricken at the sight of the small toy boat Grandfather Froese had whittled for him that very afternoon.

The grappling hooks clutched at her heart now. Gerhard and Otto had worked a full hour using those iron fingers to bring up her yellow-haired lad.

Now, Esther Claassens heart again chilled, as words of eighteen-year-old Hermann drifted through the kitchen doorway. The Fhrer, Herr Hitler, is our savior.

The words echoed from the blue room with the windows framing the green north German countryside. Uncle Peter, Gerhard, and her two sons leaned forward, engrossed in discussion.

Heat radiated from the iron stove and oven, warming the kitchen. Esthers eyes caught the few gathering clouds darkening in the east. Another April shower, she whispered to herself, checking her apple cake again. Sudden thunder shook the windowpanes. Without thinking, she reached for a stewpot on the counter. Feeling the weight of it in her hand, she smiled to herself, realizing that when she was anxious she generally searched for her rolling pin or a stewpot.

How did it get this way? Esther murmured the words, not noticing that Chris, now eleven, had wandered into the kitchen. By this way, Esther meant life under the Third Reich (empire) of the Fhrerthe control of it, the military marching of it, the hysterical unison of the choruses such as Deutschland, erwache (Germany, awake).

It seemed to Esther Claassen that the Black Spider held everything in its clutches.

I can help you, Mother, since Violet isnt here anymore. Ill serve the cake and cold milk to Uncle Peter and the others.

That was like young Christian; always willing to help. Risking, exploring and extending the boundaries of his life. Like this Hitler Youth program, beckoning and enticing the young folks toward the new flag and its ever more clearly stated principles. But all bright youngsters have inquisitive sides, dont they? She pondered it, wondering if she should caution him more.

Stepping across the gleaming tile floor, past the two great iron kettles low over their fireboxes, she put her arm around her blond son. He smelled like the new clover where he and Bruno had been rolling and playing.

Brushing back his cowlick, she smiled, a smile that covered the fear Hermanns words had caused. The warmth of his body against her side as she drew him close for a moment anchored her; the warmth glowed like the piece of amber on her bureau upstairs.

Go sit with your father and Uncle Peter, Chris. Uncle Peter leaves for Kansas next Thursday. We may not see him again for Esther did not finish the sentence; the lad caught the fade-out of her voice and could sense the apprehension of his mothers heart.

So many upheavals for his parents, and for Hermann too. They noticed the changes more than he, as he had been too young to remember the bad times, the starving people, the hordes of unemployed. A depression, they had called it.

He was too young to remember how it was when father came home from the Great War and their Fatherland was in defeat. Too young to remember the glorious day the Fhrer took office, voted in by the people.

Each day Chris and his classmates at school said, Heil (hail) Hitler, up to fifty times a day. He knew the meaning of the salute and the undulating black spiderthe swastikaon the flag. A new cross, a new saving power for the Fatherland.

They all still laughed uproariously at the west bedroom upstairs, papered with thousand dollar deutsche marks. His father, Gerhard, worn and tired, had returned from Tiegenhof where he marketed the eggs and cream. He carried a loaf of bread in his hand and a basket overflowing with deutsche marks. Not worth papering the wall with, Gerhard muttered.

Hermann, only seven, looked at the crisp, bright deutsche marks. Since Father thinks theyre worthless, Ill paper my bedroom wall with them. He labored tirelessly for three whole days plastering the walls with the useless money. They even dragged guests upstairs to have a look at the fabulous walls, now grown famous in their house.

Thats what he had done. They chuckled to this day about it. They even took guests upstairs to have a look at the fabulous wall, now grown famous in their house.