Danzig by William N. Walker

Danzig by William N. Walker INTRODUCTION August, 1939 The Free City of Danzig was basking in the warmth of a late August sun. As afternoon shadows lengthened, Max-Halbe Platze became a beehive of activity as crowded trams from the beaches at Zoppot and Brosen glided into the square, warning bells clanging, and discharged sunburned passengers returning to the city. Children in terrycloth robes clutching tin beach pails and toy sailboats ran and jumped, squealing and shouting, as mothers in beach skirts tried vainly to corral them. The men – fathers, uncles, brothers – most in sandals and shorts and carrying canvas sacks full of wet towels and bathing suits, clapped one another on the back and guffawed at each other’s jokes. A group of teen age boys began kicking a colorful beach ball around at one end of the plaza. Lines formed in front of the ice cream stand with its bright blue umbrella and a fez-topped organ-grinder added his tinkling notes to the general happy hubbub. Pyotr and Guste Starbusch gathered their things, waving goodbye to her sister and brother-in-law who were staying on the tram for two more stops. Firmly taking a hand of 3 year old Marguerite and her 5 year old brother Constantin, Guste alighted from the tram and waded into the noisy throng, steering her way to the left toward the Ringstrasse. Pyotr was in her wake, but stopped to shake hands and share a laugh with two of his fellow postal workers. When Pyotr spied them at the edge of the crowd, Guste was having a serious conversation with Constantin, who seemed on the verge of tears. “Constantin,” she said, “that’s the second towel you’ve lost this summer. You left the green one in the bath house at Brosen back in July. We got the new one as a special replacement and you promised to look after it. Remember?” “Sorry mama,” Constantin said, looking crestfallen. “He left his new beach towel on the tram” said Guste, looking up as Pytor joined them. “Well, maybe Uncle Herbert will see it after we left of the tram,” said Pytor brightly. “Anyway, this is probably our last beach day for this year. Summer’s over and this warm sunny day is a special gift for us to enjoy, so let’s not worry about a lost towel. Besides, when next summer arrives, you’ll be nearly a whole year older, a really big boy, and big boys are better at keeping track of beach towels.” He laughed, hoisting Marguerite on his shoulders, took Constantin’s other hand and he and Guste swung the giggling boy between them as they crossed the Ringstrasse, heading to their apartment in the Polish settlement. © William N. Walker, 2016 Danzig by William N. Walker The apartment was small but cozy, with a tiny second bedroom for the children. Guste began preparing dinner, chopping salad and peeling potatoes. Pyotr hauled the washtub out from under the small sink and began filling it with water, putting some water in a kettle to heat on the stove which he would pour into the tub for extra warmth. “Time to sponge off all that Baltic salt water and sand from the beach,” said Pyotr. “But Papa, we took that cold shower at the beach house before we changed to come home,” said Constantin, looking dejectedly at the wash tub. “That was a good start,” said Pyotr, “but this is the finishing touch”. “Papa, I like the idea of another bath” said Marguerite, sticking out her tongue at her older brother. “Then you shall be first”, said Pyotr, lifting her into the tub. After the children were bathed and as they put on pajamas, Pyotr soaked the four bathing suits in the tub and kneaded them over a washboard to try and get the ocean salt out of the thin wool fabric. It never seemed to work very well. The suits always felt stiff and scratchy the next time you wore them. But, he thought, this is the last time we’ll use them this year. Maybe when next summer arrives I’ll get a raise – or even a new job – and we can afford to buy new bathing suits. He rinsed them out and lay them on a clean towel to dry overnight. By now the sun had set, so Guste served dinner at the small table with four red candles for light. “Let’s make it a little romantic,” she said, winking at Pyotr. “Winter will be here soon enough and we’ll need our electricity then. For now, let’s continue our special summer gift day by candlelight.” After dinner, Pyotr rinsed the dishes and glasses, carefully drying them and stacking them in the cupboard. Guste took the children to bed and began reading one of the Mother Goose stories. She came out and shut the door even before he was done. “They were so tired,” she said, smiling. “I didn’t get more than three paragraphs into Little Red Riding Hood before they were both sound asleep.” She kissed him lightly on the cheek and helped him dry the last glass. Standing by the open window, looking down on the darkened courtyard below, they each took a gold-tipped Regatta from Pyotr’s rumpled pack and lit up, drawing deeply on the sweet tobacco flavor. “A wonderful day,” Pyotr said, taking Guste’s hand. “One of the things I was thinking about on the beach and especially in the crowd at Max-Halbe-Platz was that despite all the Nazi banners and flags, all the swastikas everywhere, nobody cared today. This was just a day to savor, a day for everyone to enjoy life -- without politics. © William N. Walker, 2016 Danzig by William N. Walker “It was special,” she replied, “I’m so tired of the Nazis trying to push you around just because you’re Polish.” “My job should be safe,” he said. “Look, the Post Office is Polish territory, guaranteed by the League of Nations mandate – not that that’s good for much these days. Still, the Germans can’t push us out; if they try, the Polish government is ready to fight and I don’t think either Hitler or the local Nazis want to risk that. Anyway, I’ve got the 2 AM shift this morning,” he added. “Let’s go to bed so I can get at least a little sleep. I’m setting the clock for 1AM to be sure I’m on time”. Guste shrugged out of her nightgown as she slipped into bed and ran her hand up his left leg, feeling him harden. He clasped her tightly and they moaned together as they rolled against one another and touched warm places. She mounted him and they coupled as he caressed her breasts with hands and tongue. Her breathing became heavy and she ground her hips, making short cries that grew in passion and intensity as they reached a heaving climax, both crying out, then giggling as they subsided, sushing one another not to awaken the children. Afterward, they shared a last Regatta together. Then fell into deep sleep entangled in one another’s arms. Pyotr did not oversleep. He awoke with the alarm, washed at the sink, put on his official dark blue post office uniform, checked to make he had his wallet and post office pass, then let himself quietly out of the apartment. He strode back to the Ringstrasse, and walked down Altstadischer Graben. Turning left into Schneidemulhengasse, he entered Heveliusplatz, a large plaza, named for the famous Danzig astronomer Johannes Hevelius, who had published a catalog of 1,564 stars in the mid-17th century. Crossing the plaza, Pyotr showed his identification papers to the guards at the iron gates of the massive Post office façade and entered the building through a heavy wooden doorway. At precisely 4:47 AM Pyotr Starbusch was obliterated in an explosion caused by a direct hit from a 530 lb. base-fused high-explosive shell with ballistic cap (Sprenggranate L/4.3 m. Bdz. (mit Haube)) fired at a muzzle velocity of 2,700 ft./sec by the 13,000 ton German gunnery training battleship Schleswig Holstein (Captain Gustav Kleikamp). The vessel had arrived in Danzig several weeks earlier, ostensibly on a ‘courtesy visit’, among other things to honor sailors lost on the German cruiser Magdeburg sunk in 1914, some of whom were buried in Danzig. It was anchored in Danzig harbor at the mouth of the River Vistula. At 4.30 am on September 1, 1939, the ship moved slowly down the Port Canal, took up a position directly opposite the Polish Post Office and at 4.47 am, opened fire at point blank range. It was the opening salvo of a new War. © William N. Walker, 2016 Danzig by William N. Walker At 11 AM the same morning, Albert Forester, Gauleiter of Danzig, mounted the podium in the vast legislative chamber of the Volkstag, situated in the Center of Danzig, to thunderous applause from members of the legislature and the executive offices, most of whom were uniformed SA brown shirts or SS black shirts, all be-decked with red Nazi armbands. Because of the continuing summer heat, the tall windows of the hall were open; smoke drifted in from the smoldering wreckage of the Polish Post office and the pop of small arms fire could be clearly heard as fighting continued between German soldiers and Polish fighters. Forster, all business, his face grim and fierce, ignored the ovation.

Load more