How Soon the Flowers Fall (eBook)

CHAPTER III

Turmoil and Grace

Two weeks later, after sailing into London harbor, taking a cross-channel ferry and then an express train to Munich, the exhausted travelers were shocked by the sounds near Munich Central Station.

“Did you hear that Wolfie, gunshots! What’s going on, can you see anything?” They both peered out the train window, seeing a crowd of people scurrying in different directions. The gunshots stopped as their train came to a halt inside the cavernous station.

Minutes later, Markus stepped onto the platform and into the embrace of his sister, Anji, who was there with her husband Johann and daughter Hannah. “It’s been too long…I’m so happy you’re back, brother,” she whispered to Markus.

“Ja, ja, but what’s going on? We heard gunshots as the train pulled in. What’s going on in Munich? From the train we saw trucks full of armed men! Don’t tell me there’s still fighting about who should run the government? It’s like the war’s still on! Who are the troublemakers?”

Johann answered for her. “The ones you saw are called ‘Brown Shirts,’ and yes, the same characters as before are still fighting each other and the government. Don’t worry though, we’re safe here.”

Anji bent down and exclaimed, “Why, children, look how you’ve grown!” She tussled Rupert’s hair, cooed at Mary, and admired Charlotte’s dress. “How pretty you look in blue and white, Charlotte, just like our Bavarian flag.”

Solomon Levi, Markus’s childhood friend, with his wife Katherina, pressed in close, offering hugs and greetings. With a big grin, Levi said, “See Markus, I knew you would come back to Bavaria. Welcome home.”

“Thanks everyone, it’s good to be home, so good. It’s been a long trip.”

Markus, Wolfgang, and the children settled into the Munich apartment once owned by Markus’s mother. Despite the turmoil in the streets, Markus resumed his old job as wireless operator at the airfield, grateful they saved the position for him. Wolfgang, like so many veterans, walked the streets lined with beggars, looking for work, passing old people selling tin cans for a penny apiece so they could buy bread.

In late fall, Markus and family with Wolfgang, were invited out to Kalvarianhof, the Levi estate in the forests outside of Munich. Wolfgang and Markus spent the afternoon wandering the grounds with Levi. It was a cold day, but the blue sky dazzled. The sun blazed down and provided a welcome warm feeling. 10-year-old Rupert, Markus’ son, played with Levi’s 14-year-old daughter Rebecca in the meadow near the barn, with Levi’s young children, Karl and Isaac. They kicked a ball around for a while, then took up shooting arrows at a target set against a hay wagon.

Sitting on a crude log bench watching the children, Wolfgang asked, “Levi, what do you make of the Weimar government? I mean, can it get control of the country and stop the fighting?” He looked intent as he continued. “Back home in Africa, after the war, after the British South Africans took over our country, they at least made a point of running it efficiently. But here…” he paused, whistling through his teeth. “There’s fighting somewhere most every day, and when the Bolsheviks and the Fascists aren’t fighting each other, they’re fighting the government. It’s got to stop eventually, right?”

“Ja, it seems like anarchy, or near enough, but the Weimar government is still in control of the country, or most of it anyway. We hope for the best and they do what they can.” Levi turned to stare significantly at Markus.

“Levi’s right. The Weimar government is gaining more and more control, but it’s weakened because of all this far right, far left friction, and the money situation. And remember, the government was blamed for signing the Versailles Treaty that has been so abominable for Germany, having to accept responsibility for the war and pay reparations.” He paused, then smiled slightly. “Frankly, I’m still a monarchist. We had a good life under the Kaiser, remember, ‘til the war. If the king had been stronger-willed, not so impulsive and belligerent, and if it weren’t for all those secret treaties that sucked everyone in…Ja, well, that’s ancient history now.”

“Right,” Levi replied dismissively.

After a sumptuous dinner of Rouladen and hot cabbage salad with apple cake for dessert, the family retired to the overstuffed chairs in the front parlor, the most beautiful room at Kalvarianhof. The walls, tables and shelves displayed exotic artifacts from Levi and Markus’s tour of duty in China and the South Seas. Way back in the summer of 1900, during the Boxer Rebellion, when there was still an empress on the throne of the Middle Kingdom, Levi started collecting things. He’d brought his treasure with him on the troopship taking them back to Imperial Germany, and when they’d stopped at the German colonies in the South Pacific, including New Guinea and Samoa, he’d acquired more exotic art, including wooden carvings of fierce warriors and voluptuous women. After returning to Bavaria Levi added to the collection, acquiring artwork from South America, the Ottoman Empire and Africa. It made for a veritable museum in the large Levi farmhouse.

After settling in, Otto reflected, “Ja, these are very hard and perilous times for most,” he said, sipping Jägermeister from a cut crystal glass. “Here at Kalvarianhof, isolated as we are, in this museum my son Levi created,” he waved his hand in the air, “it’s easy to forget what’s going on in the cities and across the country.”

He looked at Markus and Wolfgang. “I’ve been collecting newspaper headlines for over a year now—not everything, just the odd front page and editorial. Here, take the stack. Taken together it makes quite a picture.” He reached down beside the sofa and scooped up the torn pages. “Stay the night and get caught up, ja? I’ll tell Friedl,” he said, not waiting for an answer.

Later that evening, with the children snug in bed, Katherina, Otto, and Friedl said their good nights as Markus and Wolfgang spread out front pages cut from the Munchener Abund Post on the alcove kitchen table. Levi looked on, nursing his beer.

“So much chaos in Europe,” Wolfgang said, “Look at these headlines.”

March 15, 1922, France Seizes German Raw Materials As Reparations 

June 24, 1922, Walter Rathenau, Jewish Foreign Minister Assassinated

July 20, 1922, League of Nations Gives British German East Africa

July 24, 1922, League of Nations Gives British Palestine, Cameroon & Egypt

July 26, 1922 League of Nations Gives France Syria and German Togo

Aug. 5, 1922, Nobel Winner Albert Einstein Flees German Assassin

Oct. 30, 1922, Mussolini’s Fascists March on Rome 

Nov. 21, 1922, French Clemenceau: Stop Hitler’s Militarism

Nov. 30, 1922, 50,000 Gather for Hitler Speech

Aug. 6, 1923, Bread Riots In Northern Germany

Aug. 7, 1923, German Mark Reaches 3.3 Million To The U.S. Dollar

Sept. 2, 1923, Hitler Speech Attacks Weimar Republic

The next morning at breakfast, after saying grace, Katherina and Friedl were feeding the children when Charlotte said, “We’re not having antelope? We ate antelope with Mama in Africa all the time.” Even so, Charlotte didn’t stop gobbling down her boiled eggs and potatoes. The women looked on with smiles.

Friedl said “Child, we don’t have antelopes in Germany, but we do have deer. Venison.”

Rupert and Charlotte together asked, “What’s venison?” and then laughed at their simultaneous question.

“Now, now, quiet down, your father is still sleeping. Venison is deer, deer meat. We have many deer in the forest surrounding Kalvarianhof. I’m sure, if you are very quiet, you’ll see some when you walk in the woods.”

Wolfgang walked into the kitchen. “Good morning, everyone,” he said, standing in the doorway scratching the back of his head. “Do I smell coffee?”

“Here you are Wolfie, come sit down. Where’s Markus?” Kathi asked.

“He’s up, should be down in a minute.”

“Up down, up down, Papa’s up and down, up and down! Hahaha!”

“You kids are pretty lively this morning.” Wolfgang said, reaching over to tickle Charlotte.

“Oh, the Wolfie’s got me, got me!” she laughed. Katherina slid a basket of fresh baked rolls in front of Wolfgang and a bowl of butter.

“Marmalade?”

“Ja, thanks. Oh, do you have honey?” 

“Friedl and I prepared several baskets of food for you and Markus to take back to your apartment. With inflation raising prices, the Mark is worth nothing, nothing at all. One egg in Munich costs…I don’t even know what it costs anymore.” Katerina paused to peer into a basket. “There’re eggs, four loaves of bread, potatoes and sausages and the last of the vegetables from the garden.” She sighed and shook her head. “It’s a wonder there’re any vegetables left at all; they’re stolen all the time. City people suffer so much in hard times, just like during the war, they’re selling everything for food. Why, I saw people cutting up a dead horse for meat the last time I was in Munich. It’s just…”

Markus interrupted Katherina as he stepped into the kitchen. “Good morning, good morning!”

“Papa’s up! Up, down, up, down! Hahaha!”

Otto came in right behind Markus and shared his greetings. “I assume you had quite a reading last...