Women Of Courage: Daisies Are Forever Part 6

His little joke eased Gisela's concern just a bit.

Not too long afterward, the travelers stepped from the Frische Haff to the Frische Nehrung, their feet soaked. The last few meters, the ice had been almost nonexistent. But they were once again on solid land, wet feet a small price to pay.

They had fallen far behind those they had started this journey with. No matter how far they fell back, though, they never reached the end of the line. Gisela hadn't known this many people existed on the face of the entire earth. As far as she could see in front of her there were people, and as far as she could see behind her there were people.

They had come to a populated area-as much as this narrow strip of land was populated. The tiny fis.h.i.+ng village was full to overflowing with people. Scattered homes rose over what would be a sandy sh.o.r.e in summer. A single chimney jutted from each steeply sloped roof.

Not trusting Mitch's German, she left the girls and the old people in his care and went to search for a warm place where they might be able to rest. Herr Holtzmann needed a good place to sleep.

Gisela pushed through the crowd, jostled by women and old men.

She knocked on the door of the first house she came upon. A haggard middle-aged woman answered the door. "No room." She slammed it in Gisela's face before she even asked the question.

At each of the half dozen or so homes, she got the same response. She deflated. No one would take pity on the elderly and the children. Because they weren't any different from the norm. The Frische Nehrung was laden with the very old and the very young.

But what would she do? She feared for Herr Holtzmann's health. Everyone's health. They had all gotten wet. No matter which way she looked, no answer presented itself. There were no barns, just fis.h.i.+ng shanties and summer homes.

A rumble sounded in the distance. She gazed at the sky, expecting more fighter planes, wanting to shake her fist at them. They couldn't leave civilians alone. But then again, they didn't sound like aircraft. She c.o.c.ked her head. More like trucks. From the sound of them, a convoy of trucks.

Lord, is this the answer to my prayer?

A short time later, a dozen or more green canvas-covered trucks rolled into the village. The throng surrounded them so they were forced to stop before rolling over the clamoring crowd. Gisela shoved aside those in her way. A German officer sat inside the first truck she came to, his billed hat embellished with a bra.s.s eagle.

"Where are you headed?"

"To Danzig."

"Don't leave." As if he could. She twisted her way through the crush of bodies to where she had left the rest of her band. "Come on, we have to hurry. Leave the carts. Stuff the rucksacks with everything we can carry and go. There's a truck headed west."

Herr Holtzmann rubbed his eyes and stretched his limbs. "G.o.d does provide."

"He did this time." Gisela nodded.

Everyone pitched in to pack what few possessions they had left. The old women stuffed sweaters and wool pants and the girls' underwear into the bags. Gisela added jars of pickled beets and the remaining sausages wherever she found room. In her search, her fingers touched her leather Bible.

Opa, what is happening to you? Are you still alive?

She pressed the book to her chest, feeling her opa's work-roughened hand on her cheek. Not much room remained, but she packed it among their clothes.

More refugees joined the crowd. Mitch slung a rucksack over his shoulder, then picked up the girls-one in each arm. Herr Holtzmann hung on to Katya. Gisela grabbed three bags and Bettina's hand. "Come on. We don't have a minute to lose."

Already a few men clung to the running boards of the idling trucks. Gisela hauled her band to the first vehicle where she had told the driver to wait. She had never seen even sardines packed as tightly as the people in the back. "I'll see what the driver can do."

She dashed to the cab. "Can you fit in a few more? I have little children and old people."

"Frulein, if there is not room back there, there is not room up here."

Now she noticed the four other soldiers who filled the seats. "What am I going to do?"

"Whatever it is, do it fast. Frauenberg fell yesterday, the eleventh of February."

First Elbing and now Frauenberg.

"The Soviets will be in Danzig very soon."

"Are the trains still running out of there?"

"If you find one, get on it."

The noose around the refugees tightened. When they were all pressed against the Baltic Sea, then what would happen? They had to get to Danzig and onto a westbound train without delay. With their slow progress, they would never be able to walk to Berlin and keep ahead of the Russians.

She scooped up Renate and grabbed Annelies. "Let's go." She pushed and pulled the group down the line of trucks.

All of them were filled to overflowing.

They came to the final truck, revving its engine. No matter how full it was, she would get them on board. She felt the Red Army's breath hot on her neck, and it made her s.h.i.+ver.

This time, she wouldn't fail.

Mitch climbed up. "Hand me the girls." He had to shout above the noise of the crowd and the vehicles.

Diesel fumes choked her and she coughed. She lifted first Renate and then Annelies into Mitch's arms. The trucks ahead of them in line pulled away, one at a time.

Bettina and Katya proved to be nimble and, though not very ladylike, climbed aboard without a.s.sistance, then tumbled over the closed tailgate.

The truck's lights went off as she turned to help Herr Holtzmann. The tires rolled, splattering mud. The crowd parted and the driver picked up speed. She screamed for them to stop.

Gisela's stomach dropped to her feet, her heart taking its place, her entire body thrumming with each beat.

"Halt! Bitte halt!"

SEVEN.

Gisela held on to Herr Holtzmann's hand, squeezing it, pulling him along. Her legs burned and she gasped for breath. "Halt, bitte halt."

She ran behind the transport truck like a lion runs for its prey. With its heavy load of pa.s.sengers and baggage, it moved forward at a crawl. The old man's hand slipped from her grasp.

"G.o.d, help us!" If she shouted at the heavens, would He hear?

The truck lurched forward. It would leave and she and Herr Holtzmann would be stuck here, at the mercy of the Russian soldiers.

Her memory echoed with her aunt's voice. "Run, girls, run."

But she couldn't run. To do so would leave the old man to face his fate. And she had promised she would leave no one behind. She grew light-headed and her ears buzzed. Every muscle in her body quivered.

"Halt! Halt!" The shrieks tore the inside of her throat raw.

With a sudden squeal of brakes, the truck stopped. From the corner of her eye, a dog darted from in front of the truck.

She clutched her neighbor's hand once more and dragged him behind her.

"Leave me, Gisela, leave me."

"Nein. Nein. Don't talk like that." G.o.d, get us all on this truck.

"I cannot continue. Take care of my sisters."

"Ja, you can. You must."

But two steps from the truck, he wrenched his hand free. She stumbled forward. Fingertips brushed hers and a strong hand gripped her wrist, pulling her into the truck. The bone in her shoulder joint s.h.i.+fted and her legs lifted off the ground. She swung her feet until she kicked the truck's b.u.mper.

Feeling a solid surface beneath her, she climbed over the tailgate. As she turned to help Herr Holtzmann, the truck jolted forward. "Nein. Nein. We can't leave him."

He made no attempt to catch the transport.

In the distance, explosions rocked the ground.

She leaned forward and banged against the gate.

Hands held her inside. She fought and wriggled but couldn't free herself.

Herr Holtzmann waved with his right hand, his left over his heart.

A Russian plane zoomed from the heavens, spraying the ground around the truck with bullets. The rocks they kicked up clanged against the truck's metal body. Without warning, the driver sped up.

Gisela bounced against a solid chest.

"Let me go. I have to help him. I have to get him."

"You can't. It is too late." The deep voice in her ear was pure German. No British accent.

"Then let me off." She kicked at the stranger's s.h.i.+ns.

Her blows proved futile. Herr Holtzmann grew smaller and smaller.

"Good-bye, Brother. Catch the next bus and meet us in Venice." Bettina stood next to Gisela, now waving to Herr Holtzmann and blowing him a kiss.

Gisela fell backward.

The stranger wrapped his arm around her and steadied her.

She peered at her rescuer. A man in a German soldier's uniform met her gaze, the picture of Aryan perfection with blond hair and eyes as blue as the Baltic itself.

The Russian pilot shot a few more rounds at the convoy of trucks. Screams erupted from those in the vehicles in front of them. Her stomach vaulted into her throat.

The tide of tears spilled over, down her cheeks. "Nein, not him. Not him. Dear Lord, not him too." She clung to the stranger who still held her.

He let her cry for a good long time, until her tears turned into hiccups.

"Are you going to be all right, frulein?" His voice was deep, lilting, almost hypnotizing.

"Gisela." Mitch's voice came from beside her, though the stranger continued to hold her.

"Oh." She stopped short, almost calling him Mitch. "Josep, Herr Holtzmann didn't make it on. He stopped running. I couldn't . . ."

"I know."

"Then this man pulled me inside."

"Kurt Abt." The man's right sleeve hung empty. He must have a very strong left arm to have lifted her into the truck the way he did.

"I should have stayed with Herr Holtzmann, held on to him tighter. If only you could have rescued him."

Kurt's blue eyes frosted. "He was an old man, not long for this world."

"He was my opa's best friend. Neither of them will make it." The empty s.p.a.ce in her heart pained her. She swallowed around the lump in her throat.

At last Kurt released his hold on her. "He could get on the next truck."

"How many more will there be? If Elbing and Frauenberg have fallen, how much longer until Heiligenbeil and Knigsberg do too? The Russians could already be in Danzig. We don't know."

Mitch touched her back. "These soldiers wouldn't be on their way there if it was in Soviet hands."

But they all understood that it wouldn't be long.

"Tante Gisela." Renate cried for her and she became aware of the little girl beside her and the gorgeous platinum blond woman holding her.

Gisela took Renate and snuggled her.

Mitch spoke in her ear. "If you hadn't made it onto the truck, the girls would have been without you."

She squeezed Renate. "Then what was I supposed to do?"

"Just what you did."

"Was it the right choice?"

"The only one."

Yet she heard the huskiness in his voice. He had to miss his friend as much as she missed Opa. And now Herr Holtzmann. There had to have been a way to save them.

"You did the right thing." The woman beside her with the Hollywood looks nodded. "When the Russians entered my village last year, they ran over the fleeing civilians with their tanks."