Of Seasons Known

All Rights Reserved © 2000 by Joseph Trudel

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the publisher.

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Contents

INTRODUCTION

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 29

CHAPTER 30

CHAPTER 31

CHAPTER 32

CHAPTER 33

CHAPTER 34

CHAPTER 35

CHAPTER 36

CHAPTER 37

CHAPTER 38

CHAPTER 39

CHAPTER 40

CHAPTER 41

CHAPTER 42

CHAPTER 43

CHAPTER 44

CHAPTER 45

CHAPTER 46

CHAPTER 47

CHAPTER 48

CHAPTER 49

CHAPTER 50

CHAPTER 51

CHAPTER 52

CHAPTER 53

CHAPTER 54

CHAPTER 55

CHAPTER 56

CHAPTER 57

CHAPTER 58

CHAPTER 59

CHAPTER 60

CHAPTER 61

CHAPTER 62

CHAPTER 63

CHAPTER 64

CHAPTER 65

CHAPTER 66

CHAPTER 67

CHAPTER 68

CHAPTER 69

CHAPTER 70

CHAPTER 71

CHAPTER 72

CHAPTER 73

CHAPTER 74

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Dedicated to the principle of

—PERSISTENCE—

Lifes own endeavor that makes all things possible

Introduction

OF SEASONS KNOWN

Copyright 1999

By Joseph R.Trudel

Early Spring arrives with arctic frost

Oak trees sprout a simple shield

April reveals her showery gloss

While reason scorns my sense to feel

Again I rise, too soon for me

Knowing too well, before a border of cancer gray

Frighten guards with hateful deeds

Bring Sunday mourners and crippled days

In visions recalled, concealed within a decade past

Words of a diplomat sprang in hostile thrust

To seize its fearful chain, to renounce its ugly mask

For tomorrow is an unknown mirror, of forgotten time, of

forgotten trust

To the sound of distant thunder, the sacred wheel spins All hope is lost, yet miracles have arisen in words—and noble deeds

Forget not, the thoughts of yesteryear or its token Amen For freedom beckons those outside the realm of sanitys plea

To hauntingly seek those who believe within

Chapter 1

The rain had been falling hard and steady for the last several days. It continued to hammer relentlessly against the spartan room’s window pane,echoing an intensity of ones morbid perception of judgment day. From a distance, Derek Holtz could see a sliver of the noonday sun, as it tried to break through the thick clouds. Even closer, he could now hear a crowd echoing loud cheers, as he wondered who or what might be causing the in tensing roar.

Suddenly, a loud knock sounded from outside the rooms hollow door.

Derek, can you hear him?.. .can you hear him? asked his neighbor Hans Fiedler.

Hear who Hans?...just what are you talking about? he asked, as though Derek had expected something unique from all the commotion taken place. Yet, the look on Han’s weathered face seemed to flush with excitement, as he anxiously now seemed to grasped for breath.

Don’t you know who’s speaking near the Wall?.it’s President Kennedy. He’s come to address Berlin, to talk about both freedom and the tyranny of communism.

Han’s emotions had now become forceful, as though he could no longer control his true inner feelings.

Derek’s own self-interest had now heightened as well.

Kennedy,. I’ve heard so much about him. Yes, I do want to get closer to see and hear what he has to say.

Han’s now gave an exhausting sigh.

Come, my car is nearby. We shall take pictures also, said Hans as he led the way to the source of the cheering.

The drive to the Wall, had taken only a few minutes—yet they could not get close enough to get a good picture of the young President His words however were loud and piercing. It was as though he knew that someday this very cold, gray Wall, would crumple to the barren ground in pieces, as testimony of its ruin to mankind and of its assigned destiny to the ash heap of history.

But, here in the summer of 1963, that thought alone could not dissolve the anguish of despair that appeared on the faces of the crowd.

It was as though every person knew that such a reality was but only a dream as Kennedy now spoke boldly.

Our country may have many faults, but at least, we never had to erect a Wall to prevent our people from leaving. There are those who say that freedom.. .democracy, is merely a ploy to enslave millions to a capitalist system that they say is unjust. They also say that Socialism, which clearly does enslaves the hearts and mind of all mankind is to be the wave of the future. Your being here today dispels that agenda. Therefore, it is with great honor that I say to each of you I AM A BERLINER.

With those simple words, the massive crowd now erupted into enthusiastic cheers with tears of joy.

Kennedy had touched not only their hearts and minds, he had obviously touched their souls.

Derek stood momentarily hypnotized by Kennedy’s stark prominence, standing there before the crowd on a platform overlooking two worlds-one free, one enslaved,.. .and yet, his own senses were now completely still, as though frozen in time.

Just as quickly as they had seen him, the young president was soon gone. To some, his presence seemed like a dream. Yet, hearing such words of truth and promise in a sea of oppression, had left the crowd talking like innocent and inquisitive children now filled with joy.

Derek, he was great, no? shouted Hans.

Yes, Hans.yes, Derek replied, knowing now, that they must still return to that same captivity in East Berlin, which Kennedy had just denounced. Somehow, that harsh reality seemed to quickly dissolved Kennedy’s inspiring, yet fleeing words of a freedom to come.

Someday, you will be a great writer. Your words will be on display everywhere, said Derek’s mother Sara, to her oldest son Aaron. Better yet, someday I will leave this land and begin a new life, and tell of life, as I have known it, replied Aaron in a somewhat muffled voice. Sara looked at the young man intensely, as she abruptly voiced her concern for both sons.

Your brother Derek,.. .he wishes to be a soldier. This is no good. He should be a teacher, or perhaps a doctor. My heart is burdened by his desire to learn the skills of killing men.

Sara frowned, as though she had heard herself repeat those same words countless times before, yet always to no avail.

‘You worry too much mother. Derek is anxious and proud of West

Germany, so let him do as he wishes".

Aaron’s words were cautiously bold but true, as Sara knew she had no choice, but to allow each son to pursue their own dreams as each had seen fit.

Suddenly, the staccato sound of footsteps echoed up the creaking tenement stairs. Derek had just arrived, energized but also somewhat depressed by the here and now of the present.

Sara was a proud woman, who had raised both sons through the difficult times of not knowing for sure who their father was, or even if he was still alive.

She would never speak of him, except to say that he had left her many years ago. Still, it was clear that both the pain and emptiness of not having a husband was a burden on her emotionally.

Come you two, supper is ready, were words that suddenly overshadowed her own motherly instinct.

Sara knew of the responsibility she had of being a single parent.

Always inquisitive about her sons interests, she humbly asked Derek, So why all the commotion near the Wall today? Are more lies being told to Germany’s people by our so called leaders? Or maybe, some new. useless weapon, has been displayed at the expense of our own basic needs?

Derek responded quickly, The American president Kennedy spoke today,.. .near the Wall, for the first time ever. His presence, it was, is, so difficult to describe. It was as though, a mystical aura had surrounded him. He spoke of our plight of freedom and seemed to identify with all of us, each of us. I have never heard such words spoken in such a sincere manner. It is easy to see why America likes him, so much. Someday, I would like to meet him and personally thank him.

Sara now responded to her son’s exhilaration.

"Derek,. words are just words, no matter who speaks them. Tomorrow the young president will be back home and just a memory for you to think about. Look at us. We are but slaves to the state. Freedom is something we shall never know. So let’s not think about ‘maybe or someday’, but rather deal with the here and now.

Suddenly, Sara’s words were like a bucket of cold water that had just awakened a dreaming man. Ironically, Derek also knew that she was right, yet he felt as though an imaginative seed had been planted in his subconscious the fruit of which, might someday appear in his own barren life.

Aaron, the oldest of the brothers had been listening vaguely to the discussion, yet felt distant from the views of each. He knew, in his own mind that because of communism, he too was a captive, not only of the state, but also of his own personal failure. From the time that he first wanted to be a writer, he often felt confused with the idea of what such a career might offer. He enjoyed meeting, talking, and analyzing people and their dreams. On occasion, he would take notice of such encounters, only to soon discard such ideas as being foolish and time consuming relics, which he sometimes felt nobody really would care about anyway.

‘To become a writer, even an average writer’, he thought, would take some time.

He quickly enjoyed the evening meal while saying little, sensing perhaps, that the issue of freedom was not a topic to be discussed openly, even among family members.

He then excused himself from the dinner table and then picked up the daily communist newspaper to read all the lies that he knew existed.

A few hours later, the rain once again slammed intensely against the decaying flat. From the small kitchen window, the view of several guard towers along the Berlin Wall could be seen. All too often, each one of the Holtz family members, had been awaken by erratic gunfire in the twilight, when someone had tried to escape under, over, and even through the Wall, which had so divided not only this once beautiful city,but had also created a thick political wedge between freedom and that of socialist captivity.

In so many ways, this concrete barrier with its shape, its barbed wire, its numbed and conditioned guards, symbolized mans inhumanity to man. Now, nearly two years after it was erected, the Wall had claimed over a hundred victims. Still the escape attempts persisted, yet now vicious dogs and land mines were added to the deadly barrier of the machine gun towers, which hovered above like vicious vultures awaiting their next victims.

By most communist standards, the Holtz family flat was average, having tight space, no heat in winter, and very little ventilation.

The small upstairs apartment, that Derek Holtz shared with his family, was located above an old warehouse in the decaying industrial section of East Berlin.

Often times, Sara would remember the days soon after Adolph Hitler had risen to prominent power, and how his mystical persona had radiated national German pride in the mid 1930’s.

At the time, she lived in a large house and had a good job, but most of all, she had taken joy in the future, as derived from Hitler’s words of national socialism as represented by the Nazi party, rise to power in January of 1933.

Like so many other Germans, she too became horrified by the holocaust when it was revealed to the world in 1945. It was then, that Germany soon became a divided nation with the Soviet Union dominating East Germany, while the West itself remained free.

At the very heart of its capital city Berlin, a symbolic stake had been driven into its geographical heart. It became known as the Berlin Wall.

Erected on August 1 3,1961, it divided families and friends as much as any death would. Under Soviet rule, East Germans existed under austere conditions. It was only through one’s professional or trade skills, that government housing became a gift of the communist state. For the rest of society, prison and labor camps had kept the oppressed masses contained.

Sara Holtz was now a nurse of some twenty years, but felt sorry for those like her sons Derek and Aaron, who might end up in Siberia, should her declining health fail. Sometimes optimistic, she hoped to see Germany a free and united country once again, but in reality doubted it would occur in her remaining years.

Mother, shouted Aaron, you must see a doctor about that lingering cough. You can’t continue to deny that it’s nothing major.

Relax Aaron. Soon we shall listen to the classical music of Bavaria, while perhaps playing some chess or checkers. I’ve also invited Han’s to join us. He should be here shortly, muffled Sara, as though her cough were simply a nagging nuisance.

She had seen the doctors previously, who told her that she had but a year at most to live from the spreading throat cancer that seemed to worsen daily. Her days were clearly numbered, but she did not care about herself, but rather only for her sons and her few close friends like Hans, who knew of Sara’s fate, but had sworn to keep it secret from her sons, until just a few months before her death so that she would not burden the boys, who were now busy working for the state as coal miners.

To Sara, leaving her sons would be very painful, for she had raised them alone, when her lover had deserted her shortly after Derek was born. During that harsh period, she had managed to work at a local hospital where mental patients were assigned. Very often, in reality, such ‘insane’ patients simply voiced their opposition to the state, and for that, they were confined. As part of her own loyalty oath, she was told to always honor the socialist state of East Germany, while knowing in her heart that she was merely a puppet of it. Death, she felt,.. .she believed would bring her life, thus she knew that trying to delay the advancing of her disease was pointless. She had decided instead to spend what few months she had left with her sons and her friends. It was her way of saying ‘my life with my sons has meaning, all else matters little to me."

Chapter 2

The cold wind outside the poorly constructed flat, suddenly began to diminish, yet there was an eerie presence of death lingering in the night air.

Tower 4, Tower 4, were the words that now shattered the empty black silence. It was quickly followed by a barrage of automatic gunfire that echoed repeatedly, throughout the immediate area.

Kill them, Kill them all, shouted the guards, as the tower searchlights scanned the killing zone perimeter of the Wall.

More bullets were heard. Then the helpless cries of an escapee’s anguish as if the two sounds had been totally identical.

When the gunfire ceased, there were three bodies now laying face down in the ash colored mud. Their blood had spurted profusely so, that it mingled together, as though it had became a river of red.

Soon the tower’s commanding officer arrived, looked at the corpses and then laughed to the junior officer standing close to him. It was as though life was merely a joke to those with the power to take it away.

Derek. get away from the window. There is nothing that you or anyone else can do said Sara, as if she were somewhat pleading in desperation.

"It is this existence that forces people like them to flee from the lies of the East.

It is what Kennedy spoke of. I too, will someday leave and become a soldier of West Germany."

Derek’s words seemed prophetic to Sara, yet they were interrupted by yet another burst of gunfire.

Once again Sara tried to pull her son away from the horror that was occurring just outside the four walls that somehow seemed to protect them. This time though, she pushed Derek back. In so doing, creating an invisible difference between each of their own generation.

In just a few hours, Derek and Aaron would be at work. It would be as if nothing had happened that night ,which had been unusual.

The next day Sara had gotten through work early. She looked forward to the few precious hours off which she would use to prepare the evening meal. Tonight, dinner would consist of potatoes, carrots, bratwurst, and hearty German beer.

It was rare to have such a meal, but tonight the Holtz family celebrated the small pay raise that both her sons had received from working the mines.

Normally the evening meal would consist of cabbage and perhaps some chicken or pork, in small portions of two ounces or less.

That was usually after Sara had waited half the day in line at the State controlled market.

Government inefficiency was the rule by which the communist state existed. Clearly, any private enterprise would not be welcomed here,as it would represent the superior capitalist system, which the communists had seek to destroy.

Day after day, the inefficiency of the State became even more apparent. To control the masses, the government had made the public dependent on them for their very survival. This was at the very heart of Marxist ideology.

Conversely, individual freedom would never be allowed to flourish. For to do so would oppose the State and its doctrine of slavery which became known as Communism.

Still, few dared to speak in opposition to it.’fear, it was said is the ultimate controlling device.’

In East Berlin, that fear had become the iron fist of its dictators.

The brisk wind now howled through the open cracks of the Holtz family quarters.

For too long, there had been a shortage of material to repair the units openings, yet another sign of the failure of socialism.

Suddenly, a loud knock was heard from outside.

Hans Fiedler had arrived for dinner.

Good evening Sara,.. .boys said Hans.

Sara seemed to glow by Han’s presence. Often times, she thought of how the two of them played hide and seek as children. It had been a time when innocence was taken for granted, and greatly appreciated by all.

Welcome Hans,.. .please come in and join us. Tonight we have a real cause for celebration. My boys have been given a pay increase. So let us all then have a toast before dinner said Sara.

Soon four glasses were raised amid the noble smiles of the drinkers. The dinner would be a feast that any Berliner would certainly envy. Sara thought about how fortunate she was, for this moment to share the joy of her family and the company of her close friend, Hans.

She then wished that they might someday have cause for even further celebration,.. .in a free society.

Chapter 3

The small factory on Von Ryan avenue was decorated out front with the flags of both East Germany and the Soviet Union.

Inside the sounds of heavy machinery was constant, as the facility produced all the military and athletic wear for the state and its servants. In an average year, a hundred thousand uniforms could be made, but in times of soviet expansion of the nearby third world countries, the plant was capable of producing several times that amount, thereby switching from the civilian clothing manufacturing, to accommodate the conscripted army, as dictated by Moscow.

The sullen faces of the shops workers reflected the boredom of the work; yet Mikhail Vinctez, was an old pro at discipline and achieving his own objectives. As factory foreman, he instilled complete confidence in the East Berlin Bureau of Affairs, as well as to his employees.

Never one for small talk, Mikhail knew someday that he would awaken from the nightmare of communism in his native country.

In West Germany, he had been a successful businessman, who had been trapped in the East, as the Wall that divided the city had gone up. In the West, his wife and son remained. From time to time, their letters would get through, often after having been opened by security personnel. As best, he could only assume his wife and only son were all right; yet never really being quite sure of it.

The doorbell chimed as Jon Benz, a friend and gifted mechanic entered the noisy shop. He had always been fascinated by the speed of the shops machinery, considering its age.

How passe, he thought to himself. "Had I the desire, I could modify each and every machine here to further increase the shop’s output, but why on earth would I want to do that? After all, I have no incentive or profit to make this slave state, an example of industrial efficiency.

No let the government fall behind the rest of the world. Who knows, perhaps it will create another revolution, this time though, in the cause of freedom.

Jon, how nice to see you, shouted Mikhail.

Have you come to switch jobs with me, or perhaps give me some new equipment?, asked Mikhail jokingly, as he searched Jon’s expression, for some clue to his friend’s thoughts.

Benz gave a slight smiled and then opened his briefcase that contained numerous samples of a new material his friend might used.

On the contrary, here—I have some extra material for your shop. Perhaps we can discuss it further in your office

The two men walked briskly towards Mikhail’s back office. Once inside, Mikhail closed the narrow window blind and put a finger to his lips, expressing silence to his friend.

Using hand gestures to indicate the possibility of secret listening devices, Mikhail talked about the quality of the material before him. The false diversion as to why the two men met, was necessary due to the eavesdropping which the government routinely did on its contractors.

After some ten minutes of idle talk, they left the office, through a secret hidden door where electronic detection gear told them that no bugging equipment devices were present. Once inside the room, Jon spoke in a low whisper. In ten days, the Goedler family will attempt to escape over the Wall by a series of diversionary tactics.

Mikhail now listened quite intensely to his friends words.

"As a decorated war hero, Theo and his family will seek asylum in the West. His previous work as a radar technician, who worked on a high level aircraft warning system, is much sought after by America.

Once there, he will expose the nerve center of the Soviet defense system, against a military first strike capability. This will conceivably allow the West to modify their weapon systems, in the event on an eventual attack on Western Europe."

The expression on Mikhails face looked puzzling. He had met Theo twice before yet thought him to be a soldier of East Germany.

Perhaps, he thought, that is the best type of deception. To project loyalty, while being a true patriot for the cause of freedom.

What can I do to help?, asked Mikhail anxiously.

One thing, one very important thing, replied Jon.

On the night of the escape, flammable materials must be stored in this secret room. When the time comes, they will be removed, placed at strategic locations near the Wall, then ignited and thus divert the escape move by Theo and his family,

It was as if Jon had only revealed one part of the impending escape plan, yet to insure security, Mikhail knew enough not to pursue further of his friends request.

"Certainly, I will do as you ask’, replied Mikhail.

The two men then shook hands and departed in separate directions. Both men knew they had to trust each other, for trust was the link that kept their covert cause of freedom alive.

Peter Beck was an intelligence officer for East Germany. A devoted communist, he took pride in the fact, that he had served the military for eighteen years—and prouder still that his son Dolph had decided to follow a military career also.

At age nineteen, Dolph was assigned as a guard at the Berlin Wall’s eastern sector. The look of innocence on his face, reminded one of why so many young soldiers always seem to die in wars, that older men plan. A fact, that even Peter Beck had often thought about.

As his son Dolph, paced about the near empty shops on Tivor Street, he thought outloud to himself, about how depressing the whole area was, when suddenly the sound of his fathers voice abruptly echoed from a distant car. Dolph,.Dolph over here. Come let us have dinner together this evening.

The young soldier ran over to his fathers car, grasping for breath as he did.

Yes father, certainly.tonight I am off-duty. It will be good to get together, replied Dolph, who was so aware of the fact that even families were often kept apart when necessary, by the needs of the state.

Duty always came first whenever the State gave orders to its soldiers. Peter then looked at his own watch somewhat nervously, then abruptly responded.

Fine, I will see you then at seven o’clock.

Before Dolph could acknowledge his fathers response, the officers car had sped away.

In the fading distance, Dolph felt an emptiness inside that stripped him of normal emotions. It was as though, father and son had become ships passing in the night. Suddenly, he felt saddened by the coldness of the State, towards its very own people.

In yet another instance of their separation, Dolph now knew that his own career would be equally important to him—even at the sacrifice of not spending much time with his own future son.

Traitors, this is what we have in Germany today. All our people, should be united to serve the needs of the Soviet bloc, said Peter Beck to his fellow intelligence officers, now gathered in the small room adjacent to the local KGB office.

We have heard rumors of escape plots, and even assassination attempts against many of our leaders. Our sources have identified such traitors and they will be arrested,—then shot for such activities.

The small group of like minded officers nodded their heads in agreement, as if they had just passed judgment, which literally, they of course had. We must do more, one of the other officers said.

Yes, another replied let’s publicly execute them in the public square, so those who witness it, will abide in our government.

Silence then abruptly prevailed, as if waiting for a response from Officer Beck.

And so it shall be comrades, so it shall be he said to himself.

Dinner that evening between Peter and his son, was as if they were strangers meeting for the very first time.

Father, said Dolph "I am so glad we could get together.

I’ve been assigned a twelve hour shift on tower eight, near the Wall. These are long hours, but the strong pills they give us are designed to keep us alert.

With the shortage of soldiers now, the government believes this will compensate their needs for getting twice as much duty from us. Yes, son you have been selected for that special assignment because of your own desire to make the army a career. Be proud, as I am, to serve your country" replied Peter.

"Father...I would someday like to become an officer like you and work in Intelligence. I’m sure that it must be interesting work. I know you can’t talk about it, but still I have a strong ambition to follow you in serving the State.

Dolph spoke convincingly, as though he was now being interviewed by Central Command officers.. .the elitist of the Intelligence Department.

Ambition is fine son, but always remember Berlin comes first. Your future will depend on the needs of the State. But enough of business talk. What have you been doing with any free time you had, prior to your new guard duty assignment?

Practicing on my ham radio. I have books on how to repair them, and can even avoid the signal scramble on a clear night.

Dolph seemed proud that his father had asked him about such matters. For a brief moment, he felt a renewed belief in their relationship. Our teacher, Hans Fiedler, he is well trained in such equipment, and his collection of old classic radios is most interesting. You should see them sometime., said Dolph.

Amateur radio, hey?. You know the West has tried to subvert our people with something called the ‘Voice of America’ program. It tells nothing but lies about the fatherland and thinks the German people will believe what it says. It is pure garbage and should be ended, if the West really wants to get along with eastern Europe.

Dolph remained silent and studied his fathers face and the deep anger that the officer was now exhibiting.

Following a hearty dinner of venison and vegetables, the potent English made ale tasted perfect with the sounds of reflection and laughter both men now seem to enjoy so well. Although now, it became known to both, that the time had come for them to depart, once more.

We shall do this again, when the state can spare us the time ,hey son?, said Peter.

Of course, father, replied Dolph as he looked at the wall clock and noticed that the room was without a calendar or even pictures that might define a normal home setting.

Dusk had settled amidst the feeling that this place, and this time would not soon be repeated.

Both men gave a hug to one another before leaving with a lingering sense of sorrow.

Hans Fiedler had taught communications courses for several years. As a teenager, he had designed electronic gadgetry of all sorts for his friends, some of who believed him to be a genius. At the age of eleven, his parents were killed in a workers strike, when State police fired bullets into a crowd that was protesting its policies.

Hans was soon thereafter, transferred to the State bureaucracy for homeless children. It was there, that Marxist ideology was indoctrinated into the minds of the young, and eventually dominated the core curriculum of its students. Yet, despite the propaganda of socialism, Hans remained independent of the States goal, and instead, directed his own natural ability towards electronics and communication.

At one point in high school, Hans had been caught reading a Western technology magazine on advanced radio concepts. For this, he was given corporal punishment and confined to an empty room for ten days. While there, he would think outloud to himself, about all that he had read in the magazine trying never to forget how superior western knowledge was. From this experience, the seeds of resentment began to take hold. It was not until the state realized that Hans was a gifted student in electronics, that he was given limited access to teach his trade to some of the best minds in the country.

Now lecturing as an instructor, he often wondered if any of his students were secret informers for the state. Even if they were, Hans knew that he was powerless to remove them. To do so, would require state permission an improbability, if ever there was one.

He had been lucky, so he thought, to be given an apartment by the state, so soon after he began teaching. Normally, such gifts by the government took years, yet Berlin knew that a contented man would serve the State to his full potential. He appreciated the States opinion of him, but privately resented the government, all the same.

Residing next to Sara Holtz and her sons, he quickly became their friends. Initially, politics or criticism of the State was not mentioned, for to do so could bring imprisonment. However, after several months, such criticism was discussed often as both parties had openly trusted each other. It was a good feeling for both.

As a teacher Hans had met many bright students, including Dolph Beck. Hans knew that Dolphs father was a commissioned officer, but did not know in what discipline. When Dolph informed Hans of his guard duty assignments, Hans felt the student would never be fully educated in the potential he possessed. It was soon learned, that Dolph was to be given special consideration by the State to balance both responsibilities. Hans taught twelve hours a day—yet, he looked among his students for inspiration for justifying his position with the oppressive bureaucracy.

Ironically,Dolph Beck was but one of several of his students to show promise. In his own heart, Hans knew that this next generation would need to be the one to replace communism with a free society. He often prayed they someday might, yet even more importantly, that they would.

Chapter 4

The roar of the drilling equipment echoed within the Volstead coal mine. For several years, Aaron and Derek Holtz inhaled toxic fumes and ear splitting noise, in order to satisfy the needs of the State.

Like many of their co-workers, both men were tired of the long hours and hard work. Yet, to complain, meant being severely beaten by their sadistic foreman and then being imprisoned in the most inhumane of prison cells, which were infested with both rats and filth.

Such conditions had resulted in several suicides, when those confined there had clearly lost their sanity. Aaron and Derek knew such criticism would be in vain and wisely avoided it, at least, while at work.

Tomorrow, we’ll start to dig a new vain on the south side of Stuttgart Junction,yeah, said Derek to his brother.

But tonight, let’s go find some ladies and have some fun—then maybe some cards, and perhaps some Bavarian brew to reward ourselves for all our hard work.

Aaron nodded in agreement. The week had been long with sixteen hour days. He looked forward to some free time at last.

The mirror looked cracked and faded as Sara performed her daily cleaning chores. The ash laden dust on the mirror concealed the age lines, she knew were increasing on her face. As she looked directly at the reflection, her mind began to wander back in time—when her two sons were filled with life and her lover, Clause, had been her reason for living. Along the way, their relationship had faltered. First there was his alcoholism, then the hard illicit drugs, till finally the very unexplained disappearance of Clause, had left Sara wondering about his fate.

‘Did he desert his own family or was he confined to prison by the government for being an alcoholic?’ The question lingered in her mind constantly, as though it had been somehow branded there permanently over time.

Sara had tried repeatedly to find out what happened to Clause from the authorities, but to date his disappearance remained a mystery. Now, faced with two sons to raise, Sara worked most nights in a mental hospital, treating those patients, which the state declared to be a risk to the government. Not surprisingly, on more than one occasion,she had discovered lethal drug abuse administered to such patients, by doctors who were also loyal to the state.

Some of these patients had become human ‘vegetables’, while others were certified incompetent. Yet, many of those patients were former teachers, scientists, and intellectuals, who had resisted and opposed the socialist state, either publicly or through covert means.

To East Berlin however, they were all criminals unworthy of humane treatment.

At night, the cries of pain would echoed down the halls of the hospital ward, typically from the injection of some experimental drug, which the state had asked the doctors to test on humans.

Sara had long thought that death would be a blessing to such patients,-yet, it was her job to comfort them in their agony, and so she tried, while often failing in her attempt to succeed.

Nurse Holtz, would you please come to room 19?,.the patient there is in need of sedation, said the stern looking doctor.

Of course doctor, replied Sara.

Quickly she went towards the room, knowing she could not help but to feel disgust for the fact, that each patient had been given a room number, but never a name. An irony, she thought, since a hospital was expected to treat its patients with dignity at the very least. Not knowing their names somehow seemed both cold and remote.

The blue faced patient looked to be in his late forties.

Perhaps a derelict, like so many others so classified by the admitting officer.

As Sara began to examine him, the patient suddenly let out a loud scream, that nearly pierced her eardrums. Thrown back by the noise, two orderlies now tied the patient down before Sara could regain her composure. To medically restrain the man, she quickly injected the patient with some potent sedative fluid.

Ironically, his facial expression suddenly had a different look. It was as though the man’s presence now seemed even more haunting than any other patient she had treated, not only in his appearance but in his stark and piercing eyes, which had now began to frighten her.

Two days passed. The sedative had begun to wear off as the patient still appeared to be in a trance, mumbling repeatedly to himself somewhat irrationally, so that his words were elusive to even himself.

Sara now approached the patient, while a sadistic looking orderly stood impatiently the hall.

Good evening, my name is Sara Holtz. I will be your nurse in the evening. What is your name?, asked Sara, as she searched his facial expression for some sign of a response. There was none.

Again, Sara asked the same words. This time however, his words were clear.

35WQ4 tunnel, 35WQ4 tunnel he repeated it several times over, as if he were still hallucinating from the drugs lingering hangover.

The patient then went into relapse from the drugs side effects.

Sara let out a sigh of relief, then took out a scrap of paper from her pocket and wrote the patients words down. ‘Perhaps it means something or most likely nothing’, she thought to herself. She looked at the wall clock and noticed that she had other patients to check in on. She left the room physically, but felt an eerie presence still present from within.

Aaron and Derek returned home early in the morning. Still carrying the effects of a drinking binge, they began to talk among themselves freely.

This is all lies, shouted Aaron.

Here we are celebrating a wage increase, when we break our backs day after day for slave conditions. Damn, I hate this existence we’re forced to endure. Many times I wish for my own death.

Aarons words surprised Derek. Sure, he knew both he and Aaron hated the Marxist state, but unlike others, they were at least working and on occasion, celebrating the few moments of joy they sometimes experienced.

Still he felt an identity with what his brother had said. Perhaps it was that Aaron just had more courage to admit it.

Someday, I will make a fine soldier for the Fatherland. I will bring much honor to the family name, said Derek, in a self-assuring tone.

I too have often wondered, what it would be like to live elsewhere, said Aaron.

"I mean to come and go as we please to be rewarded for my work, rather than merely supporting a corrupt system. Yes, I have thought this, and you know what?..someday I will escape to the West. I am so tired of this communist crap and its Marxist bureaucracy.

Derek now wondered if anybody had heard his intoxicated brother shouting his opposition of the government. For to be reported by a witness to the state, could bring infinite imprisonment.

Derek anxiously now tried to calm Aarons tone.

Lower my voice, never. For too long, I,.. .you,.. .all of us, have been too submissive to the tyrants of this corrupt government. I will either leave this country or die here in the next six months, mark my words. Aarons words seem prophetic, yet distant from the reality that Derek hope would never exist.

For he knew that unless both were somehow able to escape, his own life would be ended by the State.

Aaron now sensed the consequences of what he had just said and looked away as if trying to recapture those very same words.

The sullen look on Derek’s face told both of them, that freedom was still only an illusion, which had yet to be realized.

Above the creaking door, the name Instructor Hans Fielder appeared in large letters indicating a renovated classroom, which apparently had previously been a factory shop of some type.

Even the hallway itself was dirty, lined with cracks and missing mortar indicating a poorly constructed building. Yet, with so much inefficiency in the Marxist state, it was quite rare to have even this place as a classroom. It was only because of its importance to the state for an electronics group that allow such available quarters to exist.

Good evening, class, said Hans.

Today, we shall continue to study various radio frequencies and then the design of surveillance equipment.

Dolph Beck was quite interested in his own natural ability to understand the concepts being taught and soon became a top student in the class. It became quite apparent to Hans, that Dolph was indeed a gifted student within the communications field.

Now the day had ended with a rather complex assignment for the class. Long hours therefore, would be required of all, except for Dolph, who understood that he had the knowledge to do the work quite easily.

As the students were dismissed, Hans spoke out abruptly.

Dolph, could you please assist me with some receivers that I need to transport to the storage facility? I’m afraid that my assistant has been stricken with the flu.

Dolph now seemed honored to be asked by such a noted instructor-for his help.

Sure,.. .of course, Mr. Fiedler, just show me where they are.

Hans sensed the opportunity he now had from such a gifted student.

Without much thought, he pointed to several receivers stacked up near the broom closet.

You know Dolph, you have the ability to achieve great success in the electronics field. Perhaps not as great an opportunity, as being in the West, but great still the same.

Like Hans, Dolph had also read of the technical innovation by Western scientists in the many articles he had obtained. He always felt self-confident and on several occasions had arrogantly expressed his technical ability, much to the jealous dislike of his other classmates.

Yes, Mr. Fiedler, I know that West Germany would offer me more opportunity, but I love this country and want to someday be an officer like my father.

Hans often wondered how much love Dolph truly had for East Germany. After all, this was the same state that had denied Hans mother hospitalization in her time of need, thus resulting in her near death. True, that happened several years ago, while Dolph was only a boy of five at the time, but still Hans felt this students love of country was fragile, and might actually be exploited for Dolphs own benefit.

If there was one thing Hans Fiedler had contempt for, it was anyone that denied gifted students the chance to excel in their area of creativity. ‘What a waste of potential’, he often thought to himself.

He often times had wished that somehow he could turn back the clock for himself and others like Dolph, so that life would have meaning, above and beyond the mundane existence of socialism.

He would now think of converting the mind of such a gifted student into one of individual thought.

Hans knew his task would be difficult, yet believe it was now a risk worth taken.

He felt confident that both time and opportunity would appear to make it all happen.

The only question was when.

Wednesday had begun as a cold and windy day, but by noon the sun had broken through the clouds to give the day a new sense of meaning to Sara. She loved the sunny weather and often felt lucky when it appeared so intensely in the cobalt blue sky.

As she began her late afternoon shift, she anxiously waited to check the patients status in room 19.

After checking his chart at the front desk, Sara walked down the barren hospital corridor. An eerie silence seemed to echo as though, there was a complete absence of life there.

The door was already open as she unconsciously approached the room.

Close the door, shouted the patient. He then put his right index finger to his lips to express silence to her.

Sara was surprised by the strangers words. This same patient had been admitted as being depraved.

Her own medical training had taught her that it was not possible for someone like that to be so alert and demanding, let alone to speak so clearly, so soon after such potent medication.

The patient looked Sara squarely in the eyes and then took a gulp, as if gashing for air.

My name is Brett Schultz. I’m,.. .I’m, a psychic.

His words were now cautiously spoken, yet in a nervous manner.

I need to tell you something that will save your life.and those of your sons, also.

Schultz’s words seemed forceful to Sara, as if they were a direct order from a career military officer. Sara now wondered, if maybe he was.

She remained silent, not sure of how to respond.

Did I speak at all during the previous day, he asked.

Yes,.. .yes you did. You mumbled something about a tunnel. Wait,.. .I wrote it down. She hastily checked her pocket for the notepad.

35WQ4 tunnel.. .yes, that’s what you keep repeating.

Sara’s answer to her patients question, had now heighten her interest of