Peter Fisk (818) 421-3020 docpetec@aol.com Opus 114 B. Dec. 1, 2005 F. Dec. 18, 2005 R.

July 22, 2008 HEART OF THE MATTER God ma, you gotta help me, Miriam Dingle expressed in an agitated voice. Faye Klatner had dozed off in her favorite overstuffed, flower-patterned chair with the din of the TV ever more faintly ringing in her ears. However, the less than dulcet tones of her daughter awakened her with a start. Shes driving me crazy. Is it Danny Fisher again, Faye wondered? The poor kids clearly the worm in the apple and I just got a notice from school that Robin and some of her friends keep picking on him. They wont stop. Have you tried talking to her? Ma, have you tried talking to a fourteen year old? Faye nodded. You were once fourtenn. I got a letter from the principal, yesterday, saying that if she and Dannys other tormentors wont leave him alone, shell be suspended for a week, Miriam said, frustratingly. Well why do they pick on this kid? I dont know, ma. Hes different. He looks different; he dresses different; he walks nerdy. I dont know. Why does anyone get picked on? Faye thought for a moment. Wheres Robin now? In her room. She hasnt come out in hours.

Maybe I better go talk to her, Faye said quietly. Wheres Pop? Its poker night, remember? Faye thought for a moment. I think its time I told Robin the story I told you when you were her age. Whats that gonna do, Miriam asked? Maybe nothing; maybe something.

Faye slowly climbed the stairs and walked toward Robins room. She knocked on her door but there was no response. She repeated the behavior and received the same results. She gently opened her granddaughters door, finding her sprawled out on her bed listening to her MP3 player. Faye approached the bed and sat down on the far edge of it. Upon seeing her grandmother, Robin jerked her startled body around, staring at Faye. She placed her hand on her granddaughters back and softly began to massage it. Mom talked to you, didnt she? Yeah, she talked to me. And so what, youre damage control? Faye said nothing and continued to rub Robins back. Grandma, I love you but Im not in any mood to talk. Faye smiled. You know, your mother was the same way. Suddenly raising Robins interest, she asked, What dya mean? She didnt like certain kids at school either Robin sighed. Grandma, I dont wanna talk. You dont have to say a word. Ill do all the talking.

Peter Fisk (818) 421-3020 docpetec@aol.com Robin looked quizzically at her grandmother. I just wanna tell you a story. I dont wanna hear a story right now. Faye shrugged her shoulders. Its a pretty good story. And its the same one I told your mother when she was your age. Robin turned away. Tell ya what, Faye said. If you think the storys boring. Ill stop. Youre not gonna get a better deal that that. You mean it? Faye nodded. Okay. And by the way, I dont know if this will make a difference but what Im gonna tell you really happened to me. All right; go ahead. Faye cleared her throat. You know I was living in this house ever since World War II. Youve been in this house that long? Faye nodded. The area was very different in 1945. This house was by itself and it sat in an open field of tall brown-green grass with a pot-marked dirt road, leading up to the front door. It had belonged to your great uncle. When he died he left it to his son and daughter-in-law and so I lived, here, with them for awhile. Their names were Isaac and Sarah.

Faye smiled. They had this cute little dog named Myrtle. She was adorable but I think she had some type of psychiatric disorder. Isaac was a teacher at your junior high school. Whenever he would grade papers, and use the stapler, Myrtle would come tearing down the hallway, growling if, God forbid, anyone got in her way. At twenty-two pounds, she was a holy terror. She swiftly traveled on her journey until she made it into Isaacs study, where she attacked a helpless pillow. After she succeeded in ripping another piece of foam out of this already depleted designated target, Myrtle calmed down and returned to relative normalcy. God, thats weird, grandma. Well, you come from a weird family. Fay sighed. So the story begins on a chilly spring night in 1945. I think it was March or April. It was near the end of the war. I heard the howling of many dogs way off in the distance. Myrtle was restless and wouldnt settle down. I went outside to see what all the fuss was and could see nothing. The air was very cold so I didnt stay out for too long. I was listening to one of President Roosevelts fireside chats. They were so great. They all made us feel warm and protected. Anyway, I got up to get myself some hot tea and a piece of toast. As I was waiting for the bread to pop up from the toaster, I realized that the sound of the howling dogs had gotten noticeably closer. I was getting a bit scared. Remember, I was all alone in that house. I thought your cousins were with you? Patience, dear one. Robin nodded.

Peter Fisk (818) 421-3020 docpetec@aol.com I turned the radio up so it would drown out the sound of the dogs. Myrtle sat at the door, the hairs on her back standing up. That made me very frightened. After a few minutes, the president finished, wished us all a good night and, since there was not much else worth listening to on the radio, I decided to continue reading Grapes of Wrath, by John Steinbeck. Its a great book. You oughtta read it. Anyway, I found it hard to get into and this had never happened before. The gusts were whipping up to a degree I could not previously recall. The wind chimes sounded like a disorganized orchestra and the denuded maple tree branches scratched the roof of the house making me feel uneasy. It was creepy. But through it all I could hear the dogs, baying. I was so unsettled that I went outside to see if something had changed since the last time I made that journey. I brought a shawl and, the moment I opened the door, I was nearly blown away by the blustery air. There was no moon out at all so everything was quite dark and the sound of the dogs pierced the darkness like the strange feeling you get when you bump your funny bone. I yelled out, Is there anybody there? As I expected, there was no answer. I turned to head back into the house when all of a sudden this dirty, parched, weather-chaffed, enormous hand covered my mouth. My eyes nearly popped out of my head as I quickly did not care how gusty the wind was. Vee must go inside, came instructions from the deep voice whose hand was over my mouth. I was so terrified. He pushed me and, for a moment, I resisted. He shoved something in my back that hurt a lot so I did as he wanted.

Move kwickly, he said. Though his voice was strong, it seemed labored and halting and he had an accent. I was sure, almost from the start, that it was German. We went inside and he shut the door, quietly. He held me tightly around the neck and slowly surveyed our living room and kitchen. All was quiet except the howling of the increasingly closer hounds. They are after you, I suppose? I hef not spoken to you, yet, madam. Madam. Nobody called me madam, ever, in my life. I came to realize that my captor was a grubby, scary, horrifying, German lout, but, at least, he was a gentleman. Faye looked towards her granddaughter and noticed that she was smiling. Youre not bored, are you? No, no. I cant believe this really happened to you. I havent even gotten to the best part, yet, Faye stated. She cleared her throat. Zit ova dair, on dat sofa. He pushed me in that direction. I sat down and was trembling. I was fearful to look up at his face. I had seen, in the movies, that once you did that, the bad guys were certain to kill you. But then the gentlemen part of this beast showed itself, once again. Look at me, he said sternly. I was still shaking. Look at me. With great hesitation I did as he asked.

Peter Fisk (818) 421-3020 docpetec@aol.com I vill not hurt you. I just need some vata and sumzing to eat. He looked absolutely wretched. He had no shirt on. His upper body was scratched and ripped, with open wounds from which he was bleeding. He wore torn trousers- trousers I had seen, very long ago, back home, in Munich. But it was the smudged, misshapen cap, that German army soldiers cap, that gave him away. You are from Camp Watkins, arent you? He moved around the front part of the house looking in every room. Your powers of observations, madam, astound me. Yes, he was definitely a gentleman. When did you escape? I asked him in some small show of defiance. Zat is not impawtent. I need some food and sumzing to drink. Zen I vill be on my vay. I got up and faced him. Your leg is bleeding badly. Just get me vat I ask for, please. He pulled out a crowbar from behind his back. I vil use dis ef I hef too, madam. You are afraid of a woman? The dogs were very close, now. You are making me shtay here longer zen I want to. He raised his voice. Get me vat I want, at once! I am not in your army, Captain. If I scream, the dogs will be here in a few minutes and rip you apart.

Please, I have had no food for several days. Just then I remember Myrtle came in and jumped up into my arms. She started licking my face and I hugged her tightly. She had always given me so much comfort. I got up and went into the kitchen. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him part the curtains, slightly, and look for his pursuers. He did not follow me and I wondered why. I realized, at that moment, all I had to do was walk out my back door and head toward the barking dogs and this would all be over- especially what had happened to me and your great-grandparents. Faye paused. But I did not do that. Every person wonders about their behavior at some time in their life. I have never stopped wondering why I did not run at that moment. And I also continue to find it mysterious why he did not follow me into the kitchen. I have some ham and cheese- no bread. They ration the bread, you know. He grabbed the food from me and gobbled it up. Do you have a name? You expect me to tell you my real name? he said without losing his rhythm, chewing. Do what you wish, I said. I then walked over to him and pulled some cotton swabs, iodine and some bandages from my apron pocket. I started to clean his wound. Vat are you doing? You cant figure it out for yourself? But If this isnt cleaned youll get an infection. But

Peter Fisk (818) 421-3020 docpetec@aol.com Sit down and let me dress these wounds. But zay are coming for me. Then I better hurry. He suddenly pulled away. I know vy you are doing zis thing. You vant to keep me here so zat zay ken kepture me. Then why dont you leave? You are my enemy and I am yours. Your powers of observation, Captain, astound me Zen why are you doing zis? Im not sure, yet. You must tell zem to me. Like you told me your name? The Captain leaned back in the chair. His breathing had slowed down

considerably as he stared at me. I could not help but stare back. All I could see coming from his blue eyes and blond hair and muscular arms and chest was what I had run away from ten years ago. My name is Paul Gruber, Captain, Thirteenth Grenadiers, Bavarian Wehrmacht. I swallowed and sighed deeply. Thank you. I am Faye Klatner. Klatner sounds like a German name. Yes, it was, once. Now it is American and will always be American. He nodded. You told me zat you vood tell me vy you are doing zis for me. Youre right, I did. Just then I was aware that the dogs were much louder. You must hide.

But They are close. He seemed startled and was at a loss of what to do. Hurry. I have a good place for you to go. But we must leave now. His blue eyes darted from side to side. Suddenly he bent down and picked up Myrtle. I get lonely by myself. But I dont trust you, Miss Klatner. Is that plain enough for you? I can see vat zis dog means to you. This is still var. Vat guarantee do I hef that zee moment my pursuers get here, you vont give me up? You have none, I said loudly to him. But I could have left when I was in the kitchen. You were going to tell me vy? Go, if you want to. Go now. You have the crowbar. You have my killer mutt. You have all the cards. If I hear zem coming close to wherever it is you vant to take me, I will kill your dawg. I remember that I stood up and faced him no more than one yard away. You must be a wonderful soldier. Faye paused. Now follow me. I turned and headed toward the basement. The basement looked very different at that time. It was very cluttered and- well- things were hidden. It was better that way. What things, grandma? You will find out in a few minutes. Faye cleared her throat. So me and my

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Peter Fisk (818) 421-3020 docpetec@aol.com German prisoner headed for the basement. As I passed the kitchen counter, I grabbed a flashlight Watch your step. Vont zis be the first place theyll look? Not where Im going to hide you. We reached the floor and we headed towards the back of the room. We shoved many boxes out of the way, until I reached an old, splintered, wooden bookcase that was more a collector of dust than an active library. Just then, the doorbell rang. Help me move this bookcase. For a split second Captain Gruber hesitated and then slid the structure to one side. There was a hole in the wall. It was really an unfinished room. It was dark so I turned on the flashlight for him. Here take this. Youll be safe. I will move the bookcase back. If you want to leave, tell me now. As you said, we are enemies. He said nothing. I left him and managed to slide the bookcase back across the opening in the wall. I hurried upstairs, mussing up my hair as I ran to answer the doorbell. Excuse me Faye, Sheriff Dustin Dalton said. Oh hello, Sheriff. Looks like we woke ya. Just taking a cat nap, I said. Ah, this heres Major Quentin Josephs. Hes attached to the army unit guarding them German POWs at Camp Watkins. Major, this is Faye Klatner. Nice to meet you, Major.

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Likewise, maam. May we come in? Sheriff Dalton asked. Oh, Im sorry. How rude. Major Josephs removed his hat as the Sheriff walked slowly around the front of the house. I guess Miss Klatner by the howling of the dogs, you mayve surmised that one of our prisoners escaped. He has been gone for several days. He left a blood trail after climbing the barbed wire fence. The dogs picked up his scent and brought us here. Have you heard or seen anything unusual, in the last few days, maam? Faye turned and looked at Robin. I was more than a little scared. I wouldnt know what to say, Robin responded. No Major. I dont think I have. Im in town, all day, at my job. And where might that be, Miss Klatner? Weavers General Store, I said, with some suspicion. Didnt Sheriff Dalton tell you that? I see him every day. Do you go out much in the evening? No. Im pretty tired when I get home. You live alone? I looked at the Sheriff. You know all this. Why didnt you tell the Major? Maam, the prisoner is under my jurisdiction, not Sheriff Daltons. Im sorry, sir. Its just that Dustin, here, knows all this about me and could have saved you all this time in asking me these questions. So then you do live alone?

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Peter Fisk (818) 421-3020 docpetec@aol.com I hesitated for a moment and became very frightened. Yes, I do. Just then the Sheriff smiled at me. Interesting Bible you have here, Faye. Youve seen it before, Dustin. Its in German, isnt it? You know it is. Arent you originally from Germany, Miss Klatner? Major Josephs asked I was born there but moved to America in 1935. You still have family there? Why are you asking me all these questions? For Gods sake, Dustin. You know I lived here with Isaac and Sarah for six years until the car crash and then, by myself. I remember turning toward Major Josephs. I go to work six days a week and have been with Dan Weaver as his cashier since I came to this town. I give credit to most of the residents, collect on maybe half the accounts, tell Dan about it who says to forget it, give out directions to the occasional tourist, have a thirty minute lunch break, smoke a couple of cigarettes, pee, wonder if Ill ever find a husband, think about my parents, cry sometimes about Isaac and Sarah, go back to pressing the cash register levers and, at 5:30, come back here. Major Josephs moved a few feet closer to me. I think the question was whether you had any family still living in Germany? I turned my back to him and started to cry. A simple yes or no will do, Faye, Sheriff Dalton said. There is no such thing. Maam?

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I dont know major. All right. I dont know. Now will you please leave? Do you know why there was blood leading up to your door? We have dogs and coyotes here, right Dustin, or arent you sure now? Dont use that tone with me, Faye. Then dont put me through some damn inquisition because you cant find a missing prisoner. Sheriff Dalton turned towards the Major, Aint she got a mouth on her? So you think its not human blood, outside your door? Im not a pathologist. Are you, Major? Im just trying to do my job, Miss Klatner, the Major said. Pastor Rawlins lives next door. Did you ask him all these questions, too? I am trying to hunt down an escaped prisoner. Does that really matter that much? And what does that mean? Sheriff Dalton inquired. The wars almost over. And how do you know that? President Roosevelt just said so, tonight. At that moment, the Sheriff was standing by the basement door. Why dont we let this nice lady be, Major Josephs said. My God. You tell me this man is alone and bleeding, probably hasnt eaten for days and is in a foreign country with the Atlantic Ocean between him and home. He must be a holy terror, sir. You mind if we look in the basement, Faye?

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Peter Fisk (818) 421-3020 docpetec@aol.com Sheriff, I dont think that will be necessary. Go right ahead. Just toss the Top Secret documents youll find on the floo, down there, in the fire. Ive already read them. The major smiled as he looked at me. Youre a sharp woman, Miss Klatner. Is that a compliment? What do you think?

Sweetie, I gotta tell you, as Faye looked at Robin, I was shaking like a dangling leaf in a hurricane. Dont stop, Robin said.

Okay, okay. So they finally left but I was still upset about the way they treated me. I went over to look out the living room window to make sure that they left. I breathed such a sigh of relief when they drove away. I went to sit on the sofa, but then remembered there was an escaped German prisoner in my basement. I hurried down there and struggled to move the bookcase. When I did, Myrtle jumped into my arms. I cradled her and closed my eyes, thankful that she was all right. Then I looked at the man in hiding. I will never forget how the Captain looked. The flashlight cast a shadow of him against the wall, showing him with his head in his hands running his fingers through his thick, blond hair. I stood there, looking at him for a few moments. There was a very strange silence. He was breathing heavily. Are you all right?

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He did not answer. Are you in pain? Again, he was quiet. I walked a few steps into the walled-in room and looked towards the back. Thank you for not disturbing anything in here. All these items are invaluable to me. They are priceless. A lot of them belonged to my mother and father. That old, tarnished menorah sat in the foyer of our temple for a long time. The Torah is from there, too. It is over five hundred years old. I remember I walked closer to him and looked next to him. This Yiddish Bible has been in my family for nearly the same amount of time. These mezuzahs were from my neighbors and friends. They gave them to me when they found out that I would be going to America. I turned my back towards the Captain. I did not want him to see me crying. I- I didnt know what to do with them. I still dont. I feel funny displaying them in my home and I feel funny not displaying them. So here they sit, in a heap, gathering dust in some unfinished, leprosy-like room. They rest, against cracking plaster. Centuries of memories and tradition, now blanketed, in soot, hiding from human eyes, as if they committed some crime. Now they rest against cracking plaster. What an unfitting tomb. I paused and looked at Gruber. I feel so torn. I sat down at the far end of the room. Captain Gruber looked up at me. It was hard to see his face. Why didnt you tell me you ver Jewish? You really expected me to have done that? He arose and walked closer toward me. On his way he picked up a few

mezuzahs and placed them gently on some furniture, after first dusting the surface off.

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Peter Fisk (818) 421-3020 docpetec@aol.com Is it safe to go upstairs? For now, We left and, as I closed the basement door, he stood between the living room and kitchen. There was another strained silence Um, I think they are gone, for now. Maybe it would be best if you left, I said. Captain Gruber did not respond and did not move. Do you want me to get you something to eat- to drink? Again, the tall, muscular, blond-haired man did not budge. Why are you standing there. Do you want to be captured again? He slowly turned to look at me. I did not know you ver Jewish. I nodded. I was always good at hiding things. He bowed his head and turned away from looking at me. I hear zings. Even in prison, you hear zings. I know that times hev not been good for your people. Zay say zat they have all been hauled away to zum type of re-location facilities Actually, theyre called concentration camps. I hear zings like zay dont feed zem and zay get tortured. Doctors do awful zings to zem. I hear zat zey murder almost everyone zat arrives. I- I cannot conceive of zuch things. Remember, I told you I vent to school vit Jewish men and women; I ate vit them; vee told jokes together; we visseled at pretty girls. I see. You must believe me zat ven I joined zee army I did not know such things ver happening. Would it honestly have made a difference?

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The Captain, turned away from me and started to breath deeply. Vy didnt you turn me in.? I must tell you, sweetheart, that was the hardest question, Captain Gruber asked me. To this day I cant fully grasp the reason. He was nice to you, grandma, wasnt he? As nice as Id let him. Faye paced slowly around her granddaughters room for a few minutes. I stared at this poster boy for Aryanism and could have easily been done with him, for good, by nonchalantly pointing in the direction of the basement to the sheriff or Major Josephs. I didnt even have to say a word. Im sure they would have been mildly curious. The Captain started to move towards the back door and then stopped. You must know zat I am not a Nazi. Ill be sure to file that away. I joined zee army to fight for my country; to protect her. Is zat so wrong? Is zat so terrible? I did not know that zuch barbarism would ever take place; not vair Bach and Beethoven, Goethe and Kant came from; not in Germany! Are you going to leave? Isnt zat what American boys did? Yeah. But we were attacked. You were on the other end. Please, can vee zit in your living rrroom? I vill leave shortly. We sat down and stared at each other for a few moments, looking towards the floor, rather than at each others face. How ver you able to get out of Germany?

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Peter Fisk (818) 421-3020 docpetec@aol.com I sighed. One day, a thin, insignificant, little man dressed in a neatly pressed black uniform with a Nazi armband drove up to the center of town. Without getting out of his shiny new car, he ordered his adjutant to fire a few machine gun rounds to get everyones attention. Slowly the townspeople gathered. He pulled out a piece of paper and read from it. Due to zee humanitarian nature of our Fuehrer, Adolf Hitler, I hev been authorized to extend to the village of Moosen the following offer. For an administrative fee of one hundred zousand Marks, any person of zee Jewish faith vill be allowed to leave Germany. I vill be back in two days. Do not twy and leave before zat time for vee vill surely find you and we vill not be so nice, zen. With this he drove off. To make a long, agonizing story short, Moosen had barely seventy-five thousand marks in the town treasury. It was felt that we could come up with the other twenty-five thousand.

Obviously, only one of us would be able to go. After much discussion, I was selected to be that one. I immediately protested for I felt it was unfair. But I was quietly told that the decision had been made. I was one of the youngest, my parents had family and friends in America, my great uncle. I was smart and educated and I could, one day, describe what happened here. I looked at my mother and father and they were crying, but they were the ones that cast the first vote to send me. I did not want to do this in the worst way. My life was here- my family and friends, my faith. But the wisdom of age and life experience knew that I would be safer in America, but that wisdom could not yet predict the fate of all those who stayed. So the money was paid and I was given items that are now in my basement to guard as best as I could, with explicit instructions to let them go and save myself if circumstances came to that. I remembered at that moment I smiled. I think I even laughed. And here I am, face to face, with one of those people

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from whom I was running. Zat is quite a story. Better than fiction, huh? So your life in America has been good here? I shook my head. I guess as good as could be expected. Vat do you mean? You told me before that you knew some Jews. How many would you say you met? Like I said before, I knew a few ven I was a student at the University in Munich. And what did you think of them? I dont know zat I had any thoughts one vay or zee otha. I told you vee did zum zings together. Zey attended class. I attended class. Zay ate in the caf, as did I. They sipped Schnapps and drank many a beer, played cards, bought the same clothes as me, stayed out later, at night, zen zair family vanted them to. They ver just people. And did you have any Jews as friends? I mean real, close, tell-them-your-mostprivate-thoughts kinds of friends? No. Did you have any of them over to your house? No. Did you ever study with then? No. Did you ever ask their opinions on matter of the day?

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Peter Fisk (818) 421-3020 docpetec@aol.com No. If you were ever short a few marks did you ever ask them to help you out? No. Yet you did not feel one way or the other about Jews? That is correct. I smiled. Well that is kind of how it is here. I worked so hard to speak English with as little accent as possible. I went to American movies, worked in a General Store where the towns people could see me every day. I baked apple pies on American holidays, marched in Independence Day parades, hung two American flags on my porch and invited people into my home to hear President Roosevelt give his fireside chats. Yet the problem has always been that this town never had a synagogue and I never went to church. So, in essence I was here, but not really. I was not like them but they couldnt quite define it. Every now and then I would catch the cold stares, some people even crossing the street when they saw me coming. I would pass by people having

conversations and they would suddenly stop as I approached. So I felt it best that I keep my past life and what I believed in, tucked in that hidden room so it wouldnt breathe in the townspeoples faces. And you hev no family here? Not anymore. The people I came to live with died several years ago, in a car crash. I am zo zorry. I rose and started pacing. Why are you still here? It is not safe for you. I know this sheriff. He will not rest until he finds you.

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You still have not told me vy you are protecting me. Did you know Moosen? Gruber smiled. Well I was at zee university in Munich for many years and a number of us vood go into Moosen when we had zum free time. I knew it well. He waited for a moment. You had zis vondafool bakery- Yes. It was called Anna.s Zats rrright, Annas. Zay baked the most encwedible bread and zair shteudel was zee best I hed ever eaten. Anna was my cousin. And zee library It was there since the time of Moses Mendelssohn. And, of course, zee River Lanzig. It was zo beautiful. I used to fish along its banks. Zee spring was magnificent. Zee flowers ver amazing. I used to love to vatch zee families hev picnics, by zee rivers edge, at dusk. Vee had nearly every dinner zair from May through September. Do you

remember zee spot vair zee river bends to zee left, a bit and, for zome reason, zee water, in zat particular spot, vas always bluer zen zee rest of zee river. Yes I know it vell. Old man Kreizer and his dog- vat was his name- Wolfgang. Yah, Volfgang. Everyone used to take pity on him and leave both of zem zair leftovers. Suddenly there was quiet as our eyes caught the others. It was both awkward but calming.

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Peter Fisk (818) 421-3020 docpetec@aol.com You see now, Herr Gruber. It is for these memories that I am protecting you. You make them real for me. I hear nothing about Moosen. I hear nothing about the friends I grew up with, whether Annas bakery is still around, if the books in the library were burned, if the synagogue was destroyed during Kristalnacht. And I know nothing if my parents or sisters and brothers are still alive. I am starved to know if the life I was forced to leave is still above ground. So I am reduced to finding out about such things by conversing with my sworn enemy. I remember my eyes filled with tears as I looked at the Captain. We may have even passed each other in the street before all this mess began. He looked at me and his eyes, too, were moist. I dont know vat to zay. I got up and walked over towards him. Hows your leg? It is better much better zince you put zee ointment and zee bandages on it. You must go. I zink Germany is kaput. Zee ozza people in zee camp keep telling us younger men not to give up hope. But hope never vun a var. And I hev come to believe zat zis vun is not vorth vinning. I dont think there are too many that are. The Captain got up but did not move. I feel so- so little. I feel so incredibly shtupid. You know you hev done more zen clean my leg and place bandages over zee vounds. You have made me realize zat var is the most despicable of human inventions and is nothing more zen zome all-encompassing term for zee right to kill people you do not even know. And it hes been a distinct pleasure getting to know you. Der vorld can be a miserable place, sometimes.

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I got up and walked over to him. I took his hands in mine and picked up his drooped head and made him look at me. And you have just shown me that it doesnt have to always be that way I broke that magnetic stare in just a few seconds. It scared me and I was already scared. Let me get you some more cheese and bread. I turned around and headed for the kitchen. He followed me. I turned around. Where will you go? Thats not a difficult question to answer, Faye. I felt this cold chill race up my spine. I know the voice and I knew the man. I guess part of me knew youd be back, Dustin. Have you hidden him the whole time, Miss Klatner, Major Josephs asked. I took a deep breath and turned around quickly to face them. You entered my house without my permission. Is that not illegal in America? Not when you are pursuing a prisoner of war. Sheriff Dalton said. And not when you must grasp that someone you least expected of harboring such a disgusting creature is doing just that. You know he is a disgusting creature? I said back to him. I am not here to argue with you, Miss Klatner, the Major said. He drew his weapon, pointing it at the Captain. So you know, exactly what makes up a disgusting creature? I said defiantly. I just want You have some kind of tests for this, to know, for sure, who is a disgusting creature? Christ, will you let me finish? The Major moved a bit closer. I just want to

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Peter Fisk (818) 421-3020 docpetec@aol.com take my prisoner back to where he belongs. And he belongs in Camp Watkins? Faye, please, Gruber said, softly. Oh its Faye, now, is it, Sheriff Dalton said with a smirk on his face. He walked over toward me and I started shaking. Of all the people in town, I surely didnt think it would be you who would spread her legs for just anyone. I slapped him across his face. I remember staring at the left side of his lower lip as it started bleeding. Dustin grabbed my hand, spun me around and placed his other arm around my neck. It was hard to breathe. I remember Gruber came over toward me in a hurry but the Major struck him with the butt of his pistol, sending the Captain to the floor. Do you realize, Faye, you could be arrested for hiding a known prisoner of war? How about taking care of a man who was wounded and hungry, Dustin? He is a German soldier and we are still at war with Germany. Must it be made any clearer to you, Miss Klatner? the Major said. It is not clarity of rules I need, Major; just clarity of thought. The Sheriff took out his handcuffs and started to place them on me. Put those things away, Dalton. With his drawn pistol on the Captain, the Major stared at me. You are Jewish, are you not? Thats right. I said angrily. The Major came closer to me. Do you know what we are finding in Germany and all over Europe? Do you know the filthy, vomit-inducing sinkholes we are finding

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your people living in? I had heard rumors. Well they are not rumors anymore, Major Josephs said to me, with great emphasis. They were created by human beings like him for human beings like you. I am just mildly curious why you would hide such a person? May I sit? The major nodded. Im not sure and I am still not sure. I sighed He grabbed me from behind. His breath stank and I could feel the stubble of his beard. He threw me down on my sofa and threatened me with a tire iron. He was my enemy and I had finally come face to face with him. Did you willingly help this man? Will you let me finish, Dustin? I took a few more breaths and continued. But, I guess, well, his leg was bleeding, his trousers were torn and he just said he wanted something to drink and something to eat and then he would be on his way. So I brought him some food and water and, while he was eating, I washed his wound and bandaged him up. So he forced you to do this, Miss Klatner? At first? What do you mean, at first? Major, believe me, I tried. I tried so hard to hate this man- to see him as something other than human. I wanted his smelly breath to be the breath of Satan and the bristles on his face to be the skin of the Devil. I wanted his ripped pants to be the

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Peter Fisk (818) 421-3020 docpetec@aol.com shedding of his outer skin, so the true Lucifer could show itself. I tried so hard, Major, so hard. But he just bled and devoured that food and gulped that water. Now if he were Satan, why would he need to do that? But Faye, he is an escaped prisoner. Dustin said in a more sensitive manner. But didnt he used to be a human being? I watched as the Major rubbed his eyes and let out a deep sigh. You know you put Sheriff Dalton and myself to quite an inconvenience. Maybe inconvenience, sometimes, is not such a bad thing, I said. I mean because of inconvenience, I saw that a monster may be something else. Its kinda tricky. But I help run a prison camp, Miss Klatner. It would have been so easy if you had simply told me that he was here, in your basement or wherever the hell he was. But then I wouldnt have gotten a chance to know him, would I? It sure wouldve made people in town feel a whole lot better about you, the sheriff said. I didnt know I was on some sort of probation. There was an awkward silence. You dont see what Im saying, the Major asked, do you? I see exactly what you are saying. I know you have a huge responsibility and, for that, I thank you, from the bottom of my heart. But it is you, sir, that, I am afraid does not understand me. Come major, lets take her and Gruber and get the hell outta here, the sheriff said.

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Major Josephs turned around and sat in a chair. Jesus major, theyre all like that. You just cant figure them out. Any normal person woulda given this kraut up in a second. And how much faster do you think we would win the war once that happened? Thats not up for you to decide. The sheriff said. So I should stop thinking because there is a war on? The major looked at me. This country gave you shelter from a definite fate. And for that I am grateful. I love America with all my heart and I always will. But you mustnt take what I did for Captain Gruber as a sign that I love her any less. What do you want me to do with them, Major? There was complete silence. I remember looking into each one of their eyes. While you are deciding our fate, the captain looks faint to me. May I give him some water and clean his wound, Major? Again there was silence until he looked at me. He gently nodded and I tended to Gruber. May I speak, Major? Still holding his pistol on the Captain, Gruber spoke. Do vis me vatever you vant but, please, do not harm zis woman. She just gave me zum food and zum vater and tended to my vounds. And where were you going to go, after that, Gruber? I remember the captain finally put his head up and stared at the major. I vas going to try and continue to escape.

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Peter Fisk (818) 421-3020 docpetec@aol.com But you are in the United States. Where would you go? I hev no idea. Maybe I would run into someone else like Faye. Or maybe someone with a shotgun, Dustin said. It vood, at least, be my choice, Captain Gruber said. The Major stood up. Cuff Gruber, he barked towards the sheriff. What about her? What about her, Dalton? She gave aid and comfort to the enemy. Thats right, she did, the major said. Put Gruber in my car. Dustin took the captain outside. You are a very strong woman, Miss Klatner, I wasnt always that way,Major. He smiled. Im sure life has been very hard on you. It has and I thank you that understanding. You know the war will be over very soon. Thats what the president said. The major stood up and headed for the front door. He had his back still facing me. All this hate- in the end, it does no good. I agree with you, Major. I know you do. He then opened the door and walked out.

Faye looked at Robin, whose eyes were about as wide open as her mouth.

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My God, grandma, why didnt you ever tell me that story before? Because the right time hadnt come yet. So is that it? Did you ever see Captain Gruber after that? Faye smiled and hugged her grandchild tightly. You really dont know, do you? Know what? The war ended two months later, in May of 1945. It took several more months for the German prisoners to be processed and sent home. Some of them, and this is still amazing to me, wanted to remain in America. You mean there are still German soldiers here? Faye nodded. For some of them there was nothing really to return home to. She coughed and lay down next to Robin, in her bed. A few days after the war ended, Major Josephs came to my house. This time he knocked and came through the front door. He was quite pleasant and hoped I was doing well. He told me that he had had enough of the Army and that he was retiring. I asked him if he had gotten into any trouble for the escape and in not arresting me. He told me that everything was fine but, the truth of the matter is, as I later found out, he received a written reprimand and was told that his pending promotion to Lieutenant Colonel was to be placed on indefinite hold. Thats so unfair, Robin blurted out Faye smiled as she stroked her granddaughters hair. Things often happen to nice people who dont deserve it. So did you ever see Captain Gruber again?

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Peter Fisk (818) 421-3020 docpetec@aol.com As a matter of fact that was why the Major came by. Sitting in the car was the captain, himself. He had asked Major Josephs if he could stop by and say hello to me. I told him I would like that very much. The Captain struggled, a bit, to get out of the car. His leg was still bothering him and he walked with a limp. But he looked much better. I must tell you that I felt real funny all over when I saw him. You liked him, didnt you grandma? I mean more than, you know, just as someone you gave food and water to. How do you know that? Girls pick these things up, you know. I see. Faye sighed and snuggled even closer to Robin. The Captain sat down and we talked for hours- hours that seemed like barely enough time to finish a cup of coffee. We didnt even see Major Josephs leave. I hated that. I never got a chance to thank him. He was a very kind man. I still wonder if hes doing okay. This is a good story grandma., Robin said with great emphasis. Its a very special one to me. You always have the best stories. Robin thought for a moment. Well, most of the time. Faye laughed. Mom, dads home, Miriam yelled up to her daughter. Did he win? He never wins. Miriam continued.

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Ill be down in a minute, Faye yelled. Actually, he wants to come up and say good-night to Robin. Okay. How come you dont like playing poker, grandma? I just never got into it. Did you ever find out what happened to your mom and dad? Robin wondered. I spent close to ten years trying to track them down and I couldnt. I just had to let them go. Its just hard not knowing. There was a knock on the door. Grandpa, is that you? I think so. Come in, Robin said happily. A tall, lean gray-haired man, with some streaks of vestigial yellow hair, limped over towards his granddaughters bed. Hows my best girl. Sorry- my second best girl. Just fine. Grandma told me about what happened to her in the war. He looked lovingly at Faye and kissed her on the forehead. So your streaks still intact, I hear, Faye said to her husband. He smiled. I guess Im no card player. But were both good gamblers, Faye said as she kissed him on the lips. Well Im tired, sweet ladies, he said. I think I will get ready for bed. You didnt light the Yartzit for your parents, sweetheart. I will do it. Thank you, dear.

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Peter Fisk (818) 421-3020 docpetec@aol.com I really love grandpa. Im glad you do. Hes quite a man. Both Faye and Robin lay back in bed. They were perfectly quiet as they just stared up at the ceiling. Suddenly Robins eyes lit up. Didnt you say that Captain Gruber had a limp? Faye smiled. Just like grandpa? Faye turned her head towards her grandchild. Oh my God, my God- no, no, youre kidding me. No way, grandma, no way. Is it that strange? You and mom kept this from me all these years? Robin paused for a moment. But- but grandpas name- our name is not Gruber. Faye paused for a moment. He changed it. It reminded him of the war and he wanted nothing to do with war. But why did you tell me now? I told you it needed to be the right time. And this was the right time? Well your mother told me you had a fight with Danny Fisher. What does that have to do with you telling me the story? Because I think it was the right time. I dont get it. Youre a smart girl. Im sure if you thought about it for awhile you might just figure it out.

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Robin let out a sigh. Is that the end of the story? That depends on you. Faye coughed and looked at Robin. Your grandfather and I just talked and talked and we just seemed to never stop. It somehow, turned into us being together for fifty years. God, you took such a chance. It mustve taken a lot of courage. Funny. I never really thought about it. I still cant believe it. Waitll I tell Melissa and Mackenzie and Adrian. Im going to go and join your grandfather. I love you, grandma. I love you, too, sweetheart. See you in the morning.

By Peter Fisk

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Peter Fisk (818) 421-3020 docpetec@aol.com

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