Page 20 of All We Thought We Knew
“Why is that?”
“He thought I should join the army as any proud German would do.”
“Are you not a proud German?”
The question was one Gunther had considered many times over the years he’d been in America. With Germany’s invasion of Poland, France, and other vulnerable countries, as well as the horrific stories coming out of Europe of what the Nazis were doing to Jews, pride was no longer something Gunther felt for his homeland.
“Germany is a beautiful place, filled with many good people, but I do not condone what the Nazis and Hitler are doing. That is not the Germany I knew.”
The man took a folded paper from a file. Gunther recognized it as one of the letters his mother sent him.
“We’ve translated the letters supposedly written by your mother,” he said, his tone casting doubt on the true authorship, “and there is evidence some of the information is written in code.”
Gunther’s jaw dropped. “That is preposterous. My mother is a simple woman, a teacher and homemaker until my father died.She went to work at a bakery in Krefeld that was owned by a Jewish family, but when the Nazis forbid Jews to own businesses, she refused to work for the man who took it over. She is a good, Christian woman and does not support the views of the current leadership.”
“Maybe she didn’t write the letters,” said the man on the left, his New Jersey roots as evident in each word as Gunther’s German roots were in his own. “Maybe they came from your brother. And maybe you’ve been writing back to him, giving him all sorts of information about America.” His gaze narrowed on Gunther. “Information about New York harbor.”
The last sentence, clearly spoken with intent, puzzled Gunther. He couldn’t fathom its meaning. What did New York harbor have to do with anything?
A flash of memory from the day he was arrested brought him up straight. He recalled Agent Malone asking why he’d taken an apartment so close to the river.
Did they suspect he was a spy?
The thought sent a cold chill coursing through Gunther.
“I assure you the letters are from my mother and contain nothing but news from home. I have had no communication with my brother since leaving Germany.” He thought ofMutter’s last correspondence and her worry over Rolf. “My mother fears for him and what he might be involved in, although I do not believe she knows any particulars of what he is doing in Berlin.”
The man on the end didn’t appear convinced. “Do you know what a U-boat is, Mr. Schneider?”
The chill turned to ice.
German submarines were used in the Great War and were once again wreaking havoc in the deep waters of the Atlantic Ocean. Many merchant vessels and British warships had been sunk by U-boat torpedoes in the past two years.
“I do.” There was no sense lying.
“So you understand our concern when a German citizen with known connections to the Nazi party lives so close to our waterways.” He paused. “How often do you go down to Battery Park? Do you ever take a camera with you?”
Any shred of hope Gunther had maintained of being released today vanished as reality sank in. He wasn’t simply a foreigner, caught up in a situation beyond his control. He was the brother of a Nazi and a suspected spy.
Before Gunther could answer, the man smirked. “I ask because we have a report from someone who seems to think you spend far more time at the park than a German citizen should. It’s also been reported that you’ve taken numerous photographs of the harbor and Lady Liberty, as well as the shipping docks.”
Gunther stared at the man, stunned. “Who would say such things? I do not even own a camera.” His mind raced with panic. What did Americans do with suspected German spies? He most assuredly did not want to find out. “You can have no proof of such a false claim. The men who came to my apartment to arrest me would have found a camera if I owned one. Pictures as well.”
The man in the center chuckled, as though Gunther had told a joke. “New York’s a big city, Mr. Schneider. You could have it hidden anywhere.”
The suggestion was ludicrous. Gunther shook his head, trying to make sense of what was happening. “I do not understand any of this. Why anyone would say these things. No one knows I sometimes go to—”
Mrs. Kozlowski’s angry face suddenly surfaced in his mind.
The day Gunther was arrested, she’d stood in her doorway, spit on him, and said something he didn’t understand at the time. The action was shocking, but he’d had more pressing things to worry about. He’d completely forgotten the incident. Until now. Her words came rushing back.
Brudny Nazista.
Although the meaning of the first word eluded him, the second was obvious.
The woman believed he was a Nazi.
Their brief encounters filtered through his mind. Although her broken English was difficult to understand, he always offered a friendly greeting when he passed her in the hallway. Had he mentioned his visits to Battery Park during one of their conversations? It was possible.
