Mom cried.
Siegie and I cried.
Luther cried too, but he cried because all of us were crying.
Dad just stood there with his arms around us. He said, "I know it looks bad now, but things have looked bad before, and we've made it. Don't worry. I'll find a way to get us there, somehow."
We were standing beside our trailer wondering what we were going to do when the commandant rode up on his horse. He didn't dismount but sat upon his horse and looked down at us.
He spoke to Dad in Russian, "Comrade Kaiter, I am very sorry that the Bolsheviks took your auto. T had no power to stop them.
Dad looked at him and shrugged.
The commandant took off his cap. He wiped his head with the palm of his hand. He looked as if he wanted to talk about something. He finally said, "Uh…Comrade Kaiter.
The mayor of this community has been taken away due to unfortunate circumstances, and these people are without leadership. I was wondering if I could prevail upon you to serve as interim-appointed mayor?"
Dad took his arms from around us. He went to stand beside the commandant's horse. The other four of us stood together cloistered in a small group beside our trailer. Dad chose his words carefully. "Commandant, I appreciate, very much, your request to assist you in the governing of this community. No doubt we could communicate very well and assure strict following of rules; however, I am not a leader. I have never been a leader. I've been more of a follower than anything else. I really couldn't accept your offer right now.
"My family has just lost their only hope of ever returning home to our farmland and parents. They need me more than this community does, and I really think this community would resent me more than it would need me."
The commandant nodded. He said, "I understand, Comrade. It is unfortunate that you cannot help me, but it is more unfortunate that you have lost everything. Eh, well, I must go to the east side of this community and observe the gypsies."
"Gypsies?"
"Yes, Comrade. They have arrived from the east. I need to get them out of my territory. They are a rebellious bunch and not much given to following rules. I want them out"
“From the East?"
"Yes. Well, I'm afraid I must tend to this. Come and see me later, Comrade, and we will talk."
Dad thanked the commandant, and the commandant rode away. Dad walked over to us as he rubbed his chin with the back of his knuckles. He was deep in thought as he mumbled, "Gypsies from the east, huh?"
A cultured voice from behind us said, "A bad lot, the gypsies. Tramps and thieves is what they are. They'll steal you blind."
Startled, we turned to see who was speaking.
The man was wearing a grey greatcoat. The greatcoat was of an excellent cut but very dirty and very used. He had a bowler on his head, equally well used, with nearly white hair showing under it, and he hadn't shaved for a while. His wife was standing beside him holding onto his arm. Her clothing, had it been clean, would have shown her to be a lady of quality. Elderly though she was, she still held herself erect and with dignity.
The man said, "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Rolan Hofbritz, banker by profession, but of late unemployed."
Dad introduced us. He asked, "If you're a banker, what are you doing in this town? We're miles from the nearest bank."
Hofbritz nodded, “I'm hundreds of miles from my bank." He laughed deprecatingly and said, "We fled before the Russians." He cleared his throat and continued, "We left our estate, our servants and our cars. We walked all the way from Danzig pushing our belongings in a hand cart."
I looked at his feet. I asked, "Mister, did you know that your shoes are untied?"
Mom pinched me on the shoulder and shushed me.
He leaned toward me on his walking cane and said, "Yes? Well, I've had some trouble bending over, and, ah…my man servant customarily tied those for me. "He paused and looked at the ground, his face turning red. He asked plaintively, "Would you be so kind as to tie them for me?"
I shrugged and said, "Sure."
As I tied his shoes, Dad asked, "Where are you and your wife staying?"
He answered, "Ah, ahem. Well, we have found temporary quarters in the well pump house of this community. No one would offer us accommodations, and the pump house is heated, so, we have established ourselves there. Most of the time, the people will have mercy on us when we knock at their doors and ask for food. We have no way of preparing our own, and truthfully, sir, we wouldn't know how to prepare it even if we had the utensils."
Dad looked at him and nodded. His jaw sagged slightly with disbelief.
The banker asked, “I wonder if we might prevail upon you to share a bit of what you might have?"
Dad's face turned red and Mom's too. Dad said, "Herr Hofbritz, I've just lost my only hope of driving out of his town. I'm stuck here just like you."
The man's lower lip trembled, and his wife squeezed his arm fiercely. He wiped the back of his sleeve across his nose. He cleared his throat. He said, “Yes? Well, thank you, sir, and good day to you." The banker and his wife turned to go.
Mom said, "Wait!" She looked at Dad, and then she looked at the trailer.
Dad nodded his head and said, "Sure." He called to the man and his wife, "Come over here by my family, and I'll get you some food."
The man and his wife shuffled over to where we were standing, and Dad went into the trailer. He came out with a double handful of army rations. He handed them to the man and his wife. The man thanked Dad. Then he tried to unscrew the top of the can.
Dad said, "Siegie, Manny? I've got to go to the east end of town to talk to the gypsies. Would you show these folks how to open the cans?"
Siegie and I tilted our heads in amazement toward Dad. We started to voice our surprise. Dad waved his finger at us and motioned us into silence. He said, "Help them open the cans." He turned and left.
I walked over to Hofbritz and asked, "Where is your can opener?"
"My what?"
“The thing you use to open a can."
The banker said, “I’m afraid that I don't have..."
Siegie said, "Just a minute, I'll get you one." He went into the trailer. He came out with one of the small openers that soldiers carried with them. He took it to the woman and handed it to her. Accepting it with some confusion, she handed it to her husband,
With some confusion himself, Hofbritz said, "I don't know… I mean, I've never had to open a can."
I said, "Here, let me show you." I took the can and started opening it for him. I had it partially open when I handed it to him. I said “Here, now you try it."
The man awkwardly finished opening the can. He looked up and smiled and said, "See! Nothing to it." He drew himself erect, nodded to us, and said, "Thank you very much. Good day." He and his wife walked away as he explained to her how easy it was to open the can.
Mom said, "That woman never prepared a meal in her life. It's a wonder that they've survived. Speaking of meals, it's time to go have some lunch. Come on."
We went inside the home of the woman who had been forced to share it with us. She was at her cabinet preparing bread dough. Mom stopped and watched her for a few second. She said, "Excuse me. May I offer a suggestion?"
The woman didn't turn around. She asked in a gruff voice, "About what?"
Mom said, "I noticed your baking bread the other day and again today."
"So?"
"Well, you're not doing it quite like it's supposed to be done."
"I've made it this way for years, Frau Kaiter," she said sullenly.
"I understand, but the way you make it causes it to not to rise well, and the crust is terribly hard."
"We've eaten it that way for years, Frau."
"Would you let me show you a different way?"
The woman stopped. She turned around to face Mom. She said, "You just want to get some fresh bread. You're not really interested in helping me."
Mom shrugged, smiled a small nervous smile, and said, "Frau, I was just trying to be helpful."
The woman dusted her hands. She was a large woman. She dressed in a long black dress with a white apron. She folded her arms across her bosom and said, "If you think you know so much, go ahead and show me how you can do it better."
Mom said, "Thank you." She rolled up her sleeves and went to the cabinet. Siegie and I began to drool. We wiped our mouths with the backs of our arms. We knew what kind of bread Mom could make.
The woman looked at us and then at Mom. She said, "You can help me if you want, but don't expect me to let you have any of the bread."
Mom stopped, looked at her and then shrugged. She said, "I'll show you anyway."
The woman smirked, “Remember, don't expect to get any of the bread."
Mom nodded. She showed the woman how to make bread differently. Siegie and I drooled while our stomachs rumbled.
While we waited, Dad was at the east end of town visiting with the gypsies. He found one who could speak German. Dad asked, “Where have you come from?”
The gypsy said, "Eastern Pomerania."
"Near Russia?"
"The same," he nodded as he pushed back his mustache with a thumb and forefinger.
“Did you cross the Oder near Stettin?"
The gypsy looked at Dad for a few seconds and nodded, "Just so."
"Would you consider going back to the Oder?"
"Ah, back to the Oder. Back to the Poles." He pushed his mustache back with more force between thumb and forefinger and said, "A ruthless and uncaring lot, the Poles."
"I've heard others say that."
"It's true," the gypsy smiled, "and the refugees along the road are tight and antagonistic." He crossed himself. He said, "Kind sir, it would be very difficult for me to go back to the Oder. It's very dangerous."
Dad asked, “Would you take me and my family for twenty American cigarettes?"
The gypsy replied quickly, "Not even for forty American cigarettes." He stopped and quickly stroked his mustache twice, his eyes searching Dad's face. "I might take you to the American zone for forty American cigarettes, but not to the Oder."
“I have a utility trailer which has my belongings in it."
"A large trailer?"
"Almost as large as your wagon."
"How many people?"
"Five of us. My wife and I and three boys."
"So," he said, stroking his mustache again. "I would have to borrow my cousin's extra horse...," he paused, "and he, of course would require...' he paused again and shrugged with his palms up, "some cigarettes also." The gypsy rubbed his thumb and forefinger together and asked, "You understand?"
Dryly Dad asked, "How much?"
"Say another thirty American cigarettes?"\
Dad countered, “Another ten."
"Another twenty-five," the gypsy said quickly stroking his mustache.
"Say fifteen." Dad folded his arms across his chest.
The gypsy stopped in mid stroke. His face assumed a hurt look. "Kind sir, fifteen American cigarettes? This cannot be. My cousin is a hard man to deal with. He has a very fine horse. This will not be an easy thing to do. He might consider, say twenty-three American cigarettes."
Dad stood with his arms folded and said, "Why don't you ask him if he'll do it for seventeen. I'll pay you forty American cigarettes, and I'll pay him seventeen."
The gypsy looked craftily at Dad and said, "You would pay me all of the cigarettes, and I would pay my cousin."
“I thought it might be that way. Ask your, ah, cousin, if he'll do it for fifteen."
The gypsy drew himself up, "Kind sir, I would not insult my cousin so."
Dad said, "I'll be back later. Why don't you ask your cousin what he will do?" He turned and walked away. By the time he got back to the grouchy woman's home, Mom had made the bread. The woman and her husband were eating their lurch. We were out at the trailer drinking milk and eating cheese and eggs.
When Dad arrived at the trailer, he told us about the gypsies.
Mom sighed, "Oh, Oscar. Gypsies? They're so dangerous."
He said, "It's a way to get out of here, but they don't want to return to the Oder."
"Oh, Oscar, I don't know."
"We may have to consider it, Erna."
“Can we talk about it later?"
He agreed and asked, "What're you and the boys doing?" She told him about the woman and her bread.
He asked, "Did she give you some bread?"
Before Mom could answer, Siegie and I wailed, "No, No bread. No bread and no butter. You know how good Mom's bread is with butter!"
He looked at us and grinned. He shook his head and said, "What a town."
The Commandant was riding along the street. Dad waved “Hello.” The commandant turned his horse aside and rode over to our trailer.
He said, "Good day to the Kaiter family. How are you, Comrades?"
Dad answered him in Russian, "We're doing fine. I may have an arrangement with the gypsies to pull us out of this town.”
The commandant raised an eyebrow, leaned forward and asked with interest, "So?"
Dad said, “Yeah! These townspeople are crazy.”
The Russian nodded, "So are the gypsies. I've told them to leave by tomorrow morning?"
Mom asked, "What did he say about gypsies?"
Dad answered, "The gypsies are leaving town tomorrow morning."
Mom said, "Good. It's just as well. Now, I just have to deal with the woman of the house."
Dad looked at her but didn't say anything.
The commandant asked, "What does your wife say?"
"She's happy that the gypsies are leaving, but she's not very happy with the woman of the farm house."
The commandant sat up in his saddle. His brow furrowed, and he asked, "What has the old witch done this time?"
Dad grinned and answered, "Oh, it's not so serious.”
“Erna showed the woman how to make bread a better way, and the woman wouldn't share it with her." He stopped and said, "Actually, she wouldn't let the boys have any."
The commandant's face colored. He jerked his cap off and wiped his shaven head. His upper lip curled in derision. He said, "Wouldn't share, eh?"
He rode his horse to the front door and dismounted. He moved his sword from his side to where it would hang in front of him. He held the scabbard in his left hand, and he walked over to the door and beat on it three times with his fist. He said, "Well, we’ll' see about that." He motioned to us and said, "Come over here."
The woman opened the door. She looked at the commandant and then at us. Her eyes narrowed. She asked, "Yes? What do you want?"
In heavily accented German he said, "Open your door. I want to see your kitchen."
The woman's eyes rolled to one side and back to the Commandant's face. She started to say something but bit her lips instead. She opened the door slowly and stepped back so he could enter.
He asked, "Where is your kitchen?"
She asked hesitantly, "My kitchen?"
Through gritted teeth, he said, "Yes, damn it. Your kitchen.”
She turned and walked to her kitchen. The commandant followed her. We followed the commandant. We arrived in the kitchen, and the Commandant spoke to Dad.
Dad looked at the woman and said, "He wants to know where your flour is, and he wants to know right now!"
Her arms were folded defiantly across her ample bosom. Her eyes twitched from side to side. She said, "I don't have any more. This morning was the last of it.”
Dad told the Commandant and the Commandant cursed in Russian. He said very slowly in his heavily accented German, "I know you have more. I will find it."
He opened every door and drawer in the kitchen and in the living room. He came back to the kitchen. His shaven head glistened with sweat. He held the sword scabbard in his left hand and pointed at her with the forefinger of his right hand. He said in German, "I know you have some hidden."
The woman's eyes rolled toward her ceiling and from side to side. She said, "I don't have any more flour."
The Russian said something to Dad. He turned and went upstairs.
Dad said, "He said, you'd better pray to Cod that he doesn't find any because there'll be the devil to pay if he does."
The woman turned red in the face. Her eyes darted from side to side. Then she looked toward the ceiling watching the sound of the Russian’s boots walking across the floor above.
He came down the stairs laughing. The sword hanging in front of him banged against the wall as it bounced off his thighs. As he entered the kitchen, he carried a large bag of flour. He tossed it onto the heavy harvest table in the center of the kitchen. He was red in the face. He faced the woman and shouted in German, "Liar!"
He was still holding his sword scabbard in his left hand. Without stopping he pulled the sword from its scabbard his right hand. In fluid motion, the sword went up, and then it went down.
The sword cut completely through the bag of flour and bit into the harvest table. The Russian looked at the woman and spoke to her in Russian.
Dad translated, "If you like your head where it is, then don't give him a reason to ever draw his sword against you.in anger again, for on that day he will surely do to you as he has clone this bag of flour.
"If you ever fail to share with us again, anything, equally, he will take from you that which is yours, all of it, and give it to us, all of it.
"He says you're a shame and a disgrace to Germany and totally lacking in human kindness."
The woman's arms were at her side. Her hands were gathering the folds of her dress into bails, and she was trembling. Her lower lip was trembling, and her legs were trembling.
The Russian asked in German, "Do you understand?!
The woman nodded. Her eyes were squeezed together and tears were running down her cheeks.
He said, "Good. Now get out of this kitchen."
The woman pulled her apron up over her face and went up the stairs to her bedroom.
The Russian said, "Tell your wife that when she makes her next bread that even Russians love good homemade bread."
“Yes sir. I’ll make sure that you have some."
The Russian wiped the top of his head with his sleeves, put his cap back on and said, "Comrade Kaiter, if you should ever leave this town, I think I'll put the banker and his wife in this woman's house." He laughed loudly, and then he left.
Dad turned to Mom and said, "How about some homemade bread?"
As Mom made the bread, Dad told us of his visit to the gypsy camp. Mom interrupted him to say, "Siegie, Manny, don't either of you go near that gypsy camp. They'll steal you, and we'd never find you."
We protested, "Aw, Mom."
She said, "I mean it. I'd better not hear of you going near that camp without your father."
Dad said, "I guess that means that you don't want to go to the American zone."
"Oh, Oscar. I don't know if it would be the same with different Americans."
“It wouldn't be too much trouble for me to find the electrician from Texas."
Mom said, "Besides, I still don't know where my parents are, or where your parents are. It might be different if I knew where they were and could see them just once again." She stopped kneading the dough for a minute. She said, "I just can't go to the American zone. I want to go home."
"Well, Erna, right now we have three choices. We can stay here, or we can pull our trailer by hand to Oberhof, and I don't like that idea at all, or we can offer the gypsies more cigarettes, food and clothing to take us back to Altdamn and Oberhof."
She said, “If that's the only way to get back to Altdamn and Oberhof, I'll leave it up to you. You make it safe for us to go with the gypsies."
He nodded and said, "I'll talk to the gypsies, but the man I talked to was very clear about not wanting to return to the Oder. I don't know if I can convince him to take us back. I'll go talk to him."
As he got up to go to the door, I walked behind him. I asked, "Do you think the gypsies will take us?"
“I don't think so, Manny."
"If we pulled the trailer by hand, how long would it take us to get to Oberhof?"
"Son, if we were all strong enough we might travel about five miles a day, assuming there are no hills to negotiate, and that's silly because there are plenty of hills. Some of them we just couldn't get the trailer up."
He stepped out the front door and said, "I'll be back in a little while."
A small enclosed milk truck was rolling slowly down the road. At one time it had an engine, but it was gone. Now it was pulled by two draft horses. The driver, a chubby red-faced man dressed in farm workers clothes, hailed Dad. "Afternoon, sir. Do you have some produce you'd like to have taken to the market?"
Dad shook his head and said, "Afraid not. I don't have produce of any kind."
The man said, "No problem. The others here in town will. I've done business with them before."
Dad turned to go. He had gone a few steps when he stopped and asked the man, "Did you say produce for the market?"
"That's right."
"What market?"
"Why, Berlin, of course."
"Do you go anywhere else?"
"Sometimes, providing there's produce or milk there."
"How about Stettin?"
"Oh yes, Stettin. I used to get a lot of potatoes from there. There's not much left there now, not much food anyway. The refugees have eaten everything that can be eaten, and they're willing to kill to get more." He paused for a moment and looked at Dad. He said, "There's no law there now, except the Russians. You know? And they don't care if we Germans kill each other off."
"If I could make it worth your time, would you be willing to take me to the Oder?"
"Mister, you'd have to make me a pretty sweet offer to get me to take a chance that I could get there and back safely."
"How about fifty American cigarettes?"
"You'll have to do a lot better than that."
"Fifty American cigarettes and a new pair of American boots? Boots like the ones I'm wearing?"
The man looked at his boots and said, "The boots are very appealing. But still the whole idea is very risky. People are killed every day on the road to Stettin, and I don't want to be one of them.
"No! Your offer would have to be a whole lot sweeter to get me to risk that."
"How about fifty American cigarettes, a new pair of American boots, and a half pound of chocolate?"
One eyebrow on the man's forehead twitched and he blinked. He ran his tongue over his lips. He said, "Now, that's pretty sweet."
"Well, what do you say?"
The man leaned back on this seat as he held the horses’ reins in his hands. He took a deep breath and looked toward the horizon, his eyes not focusing on anything in particular. Finally, he said, "I just can't do it. I'll take you to Berlin for that. Is that your trailer there?"
Dad nodded.
"Yeah, I'll take you and your trailer to Berlin for that, but not to the Oder River."
"What else would it take for you to take me to the Oder?"
The man laughed a short laugh and said, "An armed escort." He laughed again and said, "Better make that an armed escort of Russians. They're mean. You know? Nobody will mess with them."
Dad rubbed his forehead and said, "I don't know about Berlin. My wife has her heart set on going back to Altdamn."
The man scratched the back of his head, made a wry face and said, "You'd better tell your wife about how easy it is to die on the road to the Oder. She might change her mind."
Dad shook his head and said, "That's not likely to happen."
The man changed the subject. He asked, “Say do you know where I might spend the night here?"
"If I tell you, will you take me to the Oder?"
The man laughed his short laugh and said, "You're stuck on getting back to the Oder, aren't you?"
Dad nodded and said, "It is important."
The man nodded also. He said, "Well, never mind. I’ll find a place."
Dad relented, "If no one will let you in, you might try the town pump house. It's warm there at night, and the old couple there would probably like some company."
He lifted his reins and spoke to his horses.
As he was driving away, Dad called to him, "When will you leave tomorrow?"
"Early," he called back over his shoulder, "around eight or nine o'clock."
Dad went to talk to the gypsies. When he returned Mom asked, "Will the gypsies take us to the Oder? What did the gypsies say?"
"They said they would take us if I would give them sixty American cigarettes, two pairs of boots, a pound of chocolate and a shotgun."
Mom's jaw dropped. After a quick intake of breath, she asked, "Do we have a shotgun?"
Dad said. “I offered them two pounds of chocolate instead of the shotgun. I proposed it as a sweetener, but that's not what bothers me. If I gave them a shotgun, I'd be afraid that they'd use on me."
"What are we going to do now?"
"We're going to wait until tomorrow morning to see if they accept my offer."
"If they don't accept your offer, what will we do?"
Dad grimaced and shrugged, "I don't know. We'll have to wait and see."
The gypsies left early the next morning. They left without us.