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Small Bridge to Freedom By Gertrude Amrhein, as told to Dagmar

 

In February 1946, we got married in the Russian zone of Germany. Like any other young married couple, we did not bother about the world. We had each other and we were happy, but soon enough we found out it takes more than love to live.

Our ration cards promised each person about three slices of bread a day, fifty grams ( one and a half ounces ) of meat a week and very little fat. Many times we got fish or cottage cheese as a substitute for the meat. It was not enough to live on but a little too much to die on.

GMy family when I was a girl, I'm on the right.

Most of the time I had to go into the country to get some more food for us from the farmers. There was nothing to buy, and the money wasn’t good, so we exchanged bed sheets, clothing, household goods or the like. This was a pretty fair deal.

I remember one day like it was yesterday. I was on my way to a farmer’s house to exchange my wedding ring for food. It broke my heart. But, I was expecting a baby and there wasn’t anything else to do. While my husband was at work, I left for the train. After about a fifty mile ride, I came to a small farm village. Quite some time passed when I found somebody kind enough to let me in and was willing to trade. The woman was friendly and gave me a pound of butter for my ring, which I put deep in my purse.

On my way back to the train station, a policeman came towards me. In a split second I remembered some words I had heard about regarding a possible checkup. I couldn’t go back or turn into a side street, this was the only one through the village. As my feet walked mechanically ahead, I started praying. If he took a look at my face, he would know I was a stranger and would certainly ask me unpleasant questions, which would lead to my butter. Suddenly my shoe buckle came loose. I bent down to fix it somehow.

“Having trouble with your shoe, young lady?” He asked. About then my heart was beating like a drum. Without lifting my head, I answered something and kept on walking. What a relief!

Back in the train I watched the fields passing by, the corn and wheat were growing nicely. We should get more food this year. At the next station some more people with bags came on the train, when suddenly a loud whistle and siren scared me stiff.

Police again. Nobody noticed anything strange about my purse by the others had to put their bags and sacks in one place and leave without them.

After a few more stations I got off the train where my husband was waiting for me. We didn’t say much. I was too depressed. My mother was expecting us at home, all anxious and worried. We locked the doors and windows, then I showed them my treasure..... the butter.

Thank God it didn’t melt after two hours of train ride.

“A whole pound of butter!” My mother said. Only five words but they seemed like the whole world was in them. After I told my husband how I got it, he said, “This may be the last time you have to go through that.”

I didn’t know what he meant. He gave me a letter to read, but I didn’t understand it.
When my husband translated it for me, I found that it was a letter from his cousin in the United States, who asked us if we would like to come to America. At first I didn’t believe it, it was too good to be true.

My husband in his uniform

In the spring my husband took a three day trip to the American Embassy to get more information on immigration. While he was gone, my mother went to see a relative to tell her the good news.

In the evening, my sixteen year old brother and I went to pick her up. We finally got there, but we just missed her. She must have taken a short cut home. It was dark already and we hurried to try to catch up with her. We hated to have her walking alone like that since the Russian patrols were noted for various assaults and vandalism.

Just as I was prodding my brother to walk faster we spotted two Russian soldiers coming toward us. As they approached, I could smell liquor on them as well as the stench coming from their bodies. Then it happened. One soldier dragged my brother off somewhere and the other grabbed me. In a futile attempt to struggle free and go after my brother, I cried out after them, “What are you doing to him?!”

They didn’t understand a word of it and before I knew it I was thrown violently to the ground. In my pregnant condition I didn’t have much strength, but I still had my vocal cords.

Before I could get much of a scream out of my lips, the soldier’s hands flew vehemently to my throat to stifle my cries. Then, his pressing hands, like claws, began tearing off my clothing. Just then, a man came running down the street in our direction. I recognized him. He was the Russian interpreter who lived in our neighborhood.

He must have heard my cries. Though he ran to help me, he didn’t have a chance.
The Russian soldier who came back without my brother, knocked the interpreter down and tossed him over a fence. By this time, I managed to drag myself near some bushes that might offer a hiding place, but the two lunged after me.

I was in a worse spot than before. The smell of Vodka made me nauseous. But, that gave me an idea. I tried to vomit as hard as I could to try and get them away.

I can’t remember how I lived through the next minutes.. One of them gave me a hard push and a fierce kick with his boots, yet somehow I managed to get up and run. I fled into a garden, leaped over several small fences, went across a field and finally, I realized I was in our back yard.

I heard the hard, pounding, rhythmic beat of the patrol’s footsteps marching up and down the streets. I knew I’d better not risk trying to enter the house, so I spent the rest of the night hiding under a bundle of straw.

At daybreak everything was quiet. In the house it was as nothing at all had happened, except for one thing......my brother’s bed was empty. I hurried back to the place we were attacked last night to try to find him.

When I got there the Russian Commander and the mayor were already there and were summoning a doctor. On the ground I saw a wallet, bearing identification of the interpreter and his smashed pair of glasses lying beside it.

There were also blood stains trailing off into some low shrubs... I followed them. Some people tried to hold me back, but it was too late. I saw him just lying there, like he was dead. By now, people were staring at me and a small crowd had collected. No wonder. I was standing there with my torn clothes gaping open exposing cuts and bruises that were still bleeding from last night.

My brother was taken to the hospital where he was unconscious for three weeks. The only thing that kept him alive was obtaining certain medicines from the black market, because it wasn’t available to the hospitals. After weeks, he finally showed signs of improvement. It was difficult for him because his skull was shattered and a part of his brain and middle ear were damaged.

My husband brought more disturbing news. We could not hope to get a passport to America as long as we lived in the Russian sector of Germany. With this and last night’s incident being the deciding factors, we decided to take the first opportunity to live with my husband’s relatives in Heidelberg, which was in the American occupied area.

It took us a year of preparation to reach the point of obtaining a passport. The Russians refused to grant us one because my husband had been in the German army. After much thought, we decided to risk it without a passport. This would be the toughest part, stealing across the border.

My daughter and I on the ship

In the meantime, our baby was born. We had a daughter! Naturally, we were thrilled, but now the baby would be an additional danger added to a list that was ever growing.

I had crossed the border many times before without a passport, but this time it would be entirely different. We couldn’t come back. The thought gave me a chill.

The baby, who normally sleeps so soundly all through the night, might wake up and start crying, arousing the attention of the border guards. I can’t say that even I could sleep through a ride in a buggy across fields and through forests for miles. It seemed so hopeless.

The long awaited day finally arrived... the day we left our home town. The intense emotions were felt in the air like short, sharp electrical sparks. The anxiety, the fear, the impatience, the love, the strong love, and the sadness, but above all, the hope.

Soon after we’d gone, we arrived at a restaurant where we stopped briefly to feed the baby and go over the plans for the important night.

I hadn’t been afraid up to this point, because the border night loomed so far ahead that it didn’t seem real. But it was real. The night was planned for tomorrow, and my tensions were all built up. At dinner my husband sat very complacently and ate an egg sandwich that we’d packed. How could he just sit there and EAT!?! I couldn’t get a bite down my throat. When I asked him how he managed at a time like this he said, “Honey, I haven’t had a sandwich like this in ages.”

It was already six o’clock and we couldn’t just be sitting there when in two hours it would be dark enough to get started. After much prodding, my husband finally went out and took a little inspection tour. I saw a boy about fifteen years old and I decided to ask him if he knew anything about crossing the border in this locale. “Lady,” he said, “every day I bring people across.” There, I thought, is a way to make it over with someone who already knew the way even though he was a young boy. But when I asked him, he said he wouldn’t risk it with the baby. I was disappointed, but I couldn’t blame him. It was risky enough anyway without more complications.

Shortly afterwards, my husband came back with a big smiling face. What was the matter with him? I was worried sick.

He told me that he had talked to a Russian officer who said he’d let us across without a passport. This I couldn’t believe. My husband explained he had shown the officer a letter written in German, hoping he could not read German. The Russians, particularly officers, are too proud to admit they couldn’t read.

I’ll have to explain that the letter shown was an ordinary business letter that contained nothing about crossing the border. But the letter had several seals under the signature and we hoped that it would look official enough.

The officer told my husband to be on a certain bridge at eight o’clock where the border guards are stationed. Although we thought this might be some sort of trap, we didn’t have time and we had to try it.

We reached the small bridge shortly before the appointed time. Fear started to seep into me. I watched soldiers with machine guns guard a line of people. There were men, women, children, wailing babies and bedraggled looking older people. They were the caught ones. But just beyond the bridge I could see a British guard house. The flag seemed miles away. Maybe we could never reach it. We were still on this side of the line.

Then a German policeman came up to us and ordered us into line with the others, the captives. After informing him what the Russian officer told my husband, he started laughing and said, “Are your crazy? Without a passport?” Thank God he was willing to let us stay aside and wait for the officer. My husband didn’t dare show him the letter because he was a German and could read. He would know there was nothing in it about crossing the border.

Fortunately, the officer did show up and wasn’t late. For a long time he stood just looking at us. I wished I could have been in a mouse hole. That moment, the baby gave him the sweetest smile, as if she knew this had to be it. Slowly the officer smiled back and signaled the guard to let us pass. The policeman who laughed at us before didn’t laugh this time. He was rather startled. We started walking across the bridge. We couldn’t walk fast enough. The soft splashing of the creek under the bridge was a joyful song to my ears. I wasn’t depressed anymore and it felt good when I took several deep breaths. My husband kept looking back. I can’t blame him for not trusting the Russians, since he escaped from Russian prison camps six times. Every time he made an escape it was under impossible odds. He knew them alright, but we made it.

When we reached the English guards, they were amazed when my husband told them, in his broken English, how we made it across. Later we got to know that the seal under the signature did the whole trick. Red seals are good with the Russians on certain days. On other days it’s blue, or green, or for that matter, whatever color they choose. We were lucky we hit that certain day. Others weren’t so lucky.

After much walking, a lady offered to give us a ride in her hand wagon in return for two loves of bread. At the train station our train was so crowded that you had to stand on one foot. Finally we reached Heidelberg.

Two days later we were eligible for passports to America. Soon after we set foot on a free land.

On the ship sailing for America

The first few weeks were quite an adjustment. Sometimes I watched people shopping, so certain of getting their food, clothing and other things. I wonder, if I would tell them how we used to get our food, would they believe us?

Our baby... she’s a big girl now... is in the third grade. Me husband has a good job and we cherish our own little house. Best of all we hope to get our citizenship papers this year. Then our start of a new life in a new world will be complete.