Tianna Feldpetzer

November 8th, 1943

Ebenschtadt-Augsbrück, Bavaria, Germany

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Mother hadn’t smiled since August.

She’d get out of bed in the morning with bags under her eyes, wordlessly tending to the farm while I cleaned up the house. Sometimes some of the village kids would stop by and help out in the wake of our family being split in half.

When the news of Konrad’s death came in the mail, she had me immediately taken me home from the all-girls boarding school I’d been attending. The past few months had been a blur.

It felt almost like a sick prank.

Konrad had been a part of the house like the floor and walls themselves; he was simply a fact oflife. When I had a rough day at the local school, I could always rely on him being in that dingy little room of his, reading his books like an addict.

Now, the room lay empty.

Mother and I had come to an unspoken agreement; Konrad’s room was not to be disturbed apart from cleaning. It was both comfortable and haunting. Whenever I stepped into it, it felt like I’d travelled back in time.

It was still in a state of semi-cleanliness; a few dress shirts lay scattered about on the floor, the book Konrad had been reading before his conscription haphazardly perched on his wobbly nightstand, even the lamp with its lopsided shade.

Eerie was really the only word I could use for it, sitting against the wall of the room.

In the part of my mind unshackled by such cruel things as logic, I almost expected the door to creak open at any moment, Konrad stepping in after a bath with ill-fitting casual clothes and an uncombed mop of hair. I could almost feel his presence in the room, to a degree, like I’d see him absentmindedly staring out the window onto the crop fields in the light of the morning sun if I just squinted.

Sighing, I got to my feet and slowly shuffled out into the hallway. The yellow rays of the sun barely peeking over the horizon filtered in through the windows, cutting through the dark of the passageway. The creaking of the floorboards underneath my feet seemed ear-splittingly loud in the dead silent house.

Mother was either fast asleep in her bed or trying to be, meaning I was the only waking person in the house. I hadn’t bothered getting out of my nightgown, finding even that too exhausting these days to do in the morning. As I made my way downstairs, I could only hope I looked only half as bad as I felt.

Sleep had been a luxury for a while now, with what little I got plagued by nightmares or just an overwhelming sense of dread. As time went on, things just seemed to get worse instead of better. Isn’t it supposed to be the opposite?

Maybe it was just the winter getting to me. The thin layer of snow coating the outside paired with the overcast sky surely wasn’t doing me many favors.

I was starting to regret my decision to not get out of my nightgown as the temperature seemed to only drop as I hit the ground floor, the previously warm wool socks I wore doing little to prevent the cold from seeping in.

I internally grumbled to myself about waking up this early in the dead of winter as I roughly placed some wood in the fireplace, the remains from last night laying charred underneath. I grabbed a match and struck it against the box, tossing it into the hearth.

Watching as the single flame slowly grew, I settled into one of the chairs. The cold leather froze my skin through the fabric at first, but I got used to it; the warmth of the now roaring fire sure helped. How long I stayed there, I simply don’t know.

I’d fallen asleep, only jarred out of my rest by the sound of a car.

Finally.

I shakily got up from the chair, stepping over to a window near the door. A car, black as night against the gleaming white snow, had rolled up a few meters away from our porch. Despite already knowing what was happening, I still held my breath when the back door opened.

Out stepped a man dressed in German military attire, a cap adorning his head, gloves on his hands, and a coat covering his torso. He seemed to say something to the driver before the car slowly lurched forward and drove away.

I quickly scrambled over to the door, yanking it open. Despite the blast of icy wind to the face, I felt just a tiny bit more secure.

“Greetings, father,” I tried to chirp like I had all the other times he’d visited, but it came out choked.

He remained silent as he stepped onto the patio. Something immediately seemed off. Maybe it was the fact that his cap was just slightly crooked, or the glint of remorse in his eyes, but he just seemed different.

And then he hugged me.

It was freezing cold, the frost beginning to sink through my garments, but I didn’t care. For the first time in what might’ve been a decade, father was hugging me. All I could do was hug him back.

“I’m sorry, my little songbird,” was all he whispered, “For everything.”

And that was all that was needed to break the dam.

So there I was, a young woman barely a few years off from starting my own life out in the world, bawling my eyes out in the arms of my dad. And I didn’t care. The world could’ve frozen over at that second, and I wouldn’t have noticed.

It felt like it lasted for so long yet so short at the same time. When I finally got my tears under control, he gently pulled back with a lopsided smile, “Now go get dressed. The last thing your mother needs is you catching a cold.”

I could only stare in astonishment. His voice had lost its cold and distant edge that had been there for as long as I could remember. It wasn’t like was talking to some rowdy soldiers.

I could only sniff and nod, heading back to my room as he stepped in and closed the door behind him. When I came back, wearing a dress, winter boots, and a coat, he was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee in his hands. His gloves were placed beside him, and his coat draped over the back of his chair.

Most noticeably, mother was now sitting across the table. She glanced at me, “Your father will be here for the funeral service, and return to the Wehrmacht afterwards on the eastern front.”

I could only wince at the way she spit Wehrmacht out like a piece of spoiled meat.

“I might change that, actually,” father said, his voice soft as he stared at the cup of coffee, “I might take some time off to be here.”

Mother sent a pointed stare his way, “That’d be best, seeing as we did just lose our son to them. Not that you noticed.”

I didn’t miss father’s grimace.

“Let’s just try to have a calm day. With the service tomorrow, I’d rather we all be ready and rested for it,” father glanced up from his coffee cup.

That seemed to be the end of the conversation, as mother only gave a tired nod before walking upstairs to change. Father also stood up, clearing his throat, “How do eggs sound for breakfast?”

I could only nod.

The rest of the day passed rather mundanely. Mother spent most of it sitting by the lit fireplace with some coffee in her hands, while I played some games with father. It felt almost normal, like there wasn’t a war raging in the distance. Like father had never joined the Wehrmacht.

Like Konrad had never left.

I caught myself glancing at the stairs every so often, expecting to hear his heavy footsteps descending the steps.

The rather calm day seemed to go on pause as there was a knock on the door. I paused from showing father my drawings to slowly approach the window alongside father, glancing outside. There was a car visible through the descending snow, all black like the one before. Out stepped a man, dressed in a coat and hat.

“The Gestapo?” I heard father wonder warily.

That was the Gestapo? Had we done something wrong? They were just supposed to punish criminals, right?

Father turned to mother, his voice returning to that militaristic tone that was so familiar, “Rosa, take Tianna our bedroom. I’ll call if anything happens.”

Mother ushered me over, knowing not to argue. We both scrambled up the steps, hiding in the master bedroom and closing the door just as we heard the front door open.

“Raimund?” I heard father confusedly state.

Wait, what was Uncle Raimund doing in the Gestapo?

“Yep! I just got this job,” I heard Raimund nervously chuckle.

“I knew you said you were switching careers from a farmhand but I wasn’t expecting… this.”

“Neither was I, but the pay is leagues better.”

“This isn’t a social visit, I assume?” I could almost hear father quirk an eyebrow.

“Ah, right!” I heard Raimund titter, “I’m here to find some more information about your son. My condolences, by the way. I’m sorry I won’t be able to come to the service.”

Konrad? He’d been killed at the hands of the partisans in Paris. What was so confusing about that?

“Wait. What is this concerning my son?” a shudder ran up my spine at father’s tone; I only rarely heard it, and it was the “Either you obey or I string you up by your neck” tone.

Raimund seemingly spluttered, “Well—er—some more information has arisen his fate and we’re just trying to match things up.”

“What information?”

“Oh—uh—I’m not at liberty to say, really,” I heard Raimund sheepishly state, giving a nervous chuckle afterwards.

There was a pause. Either father was thinking or sighing.

“Listen, Raimund. We’ve been friends for how long? Going on three decades now?” father started.

The other man quickly added, “And a half.”

“And a half,” father affirmed, “Whatever information you have, you can tell me it. And if not your friend, then to a grieving father. This isn’t some statistic; it’s my son.”

“I really ca-” I heard a yelp from Uncle Raimund.

“You tell me the information right now or I beat you to a pulp.”

“B-But I’m your friend! And a Gestapo officer!”

I heard father growl, “If you were, then you wouldn’t get in the way of closure. And don’t forget I my sway in the Wehrmacht. Burying this up would be easy. Out with it.”

“A-Alright fine!” Raimund caved, “But if someone asks you, I never told you anything!”

“Agreed.”

“We’re not actually that sure if Konrad is dead.”

He wasn’t?! I glanced at mother, and she was staring at me with eyes wide as saucers. I was surely wearing the same expression. All this suffering, for nothing!

“…you aren’t?” I could hear my father’s voice crack.

“We… aren’t,” Raimund admitted, “As far as I was told, he disappeared after being attacked by the partisans and we haven’t found a body. His death had been a kneejerk reaction from the commander in that situation, and by the time they’d realized that it seemed to be too late and I don’t think they wanted to give anybody any reason to question the Wehrmacht. Honest.”

“So… he could still be alive?”

“…it’s a possibility.”

At that, I couldn’t contain the whoop of joy that rang out. Konrad could be alive! He could come back home! All that grief, all that anguish, slapped away with just a sentence!

“What was that?” I heard Uncle Raimund ask.

“Rosa, Tianna, you can come down,” I heard father call.

I didn’t wait another second, whipping the door open and pelting down the hallway. I noisily sprinted down the stairs, something I didn’t even know I could do, and all but tackled Uncle Raimund to the ground with a hug.

“Glad to see you too, Tianna!” he chuckled, patting my head as I hugged him as hard as I could on the floor.

“There’s a chance Konrad’s alive?” I heard mother shakily ask as she walked over.

Father seemed to swallow before nodding, “It seems there is.”

“So I guess you’ll cancel the service?” Uncle Raimond grunted as he sat up, me getting to my feet.

Father hummed for a moment, “No. That’d seem suspicious, especially right before I request a change of post to Paris.”

“I’m sorry… what?” Raimond gave Father an incredulous stare.

Father just stared back at him, “Did I stutter? I’m going to Paris.”