ÉMIGRÉS

THE ÉMIGRÉS

TOMMY JAMES

A fascinating story about a German soldier in World War II, who is witness to an atrocity committed by two German SS officers. Karl is wounded during a British air raid. Realizing he knows their secret, and to keep him silent, the two SS officers have him assigned to the SS, promoted, and placed in charge of security at a labor camp. As an SS Sergeant he supervises the looting of anything of value from the new arrivals, and is in charge of executions and the inmate Sonderkommando extermination and burial details. Volume one of a two book chronicle.

About The Author

Tommy James is an accomplished writer of historical fiction, and this is his second manuscript to be published as an e-Book. This outstanding story demonstrates the writer's unique ability to research history and to persuasively present it as fiction. A wonderful tale about a horrible Era.

e-BOOK

Maverick Publishing

HOUSTON, TEXAS

TOMMY JAMES

THE

ÉMIGRÉS

BOOK ONE

e-Book 2002

www.mittymax.com

THE ÉMIGRÉS

TOMMY JAMES

BOOK ONE

e-Book

Maverick Publishing

HOUSTON, TEXAS

THE ÉMIGRÉS

TOMMY JAMES

FICTION

Any resemblance of the characters in this novel

to persons living or dead is coincident.

e-Book

CHAPTER ONE

It was a very warm, but beautiful, morning as Karl Kruger walked the two kilometers from his house to the Eckart farm. The horse drawn wagons and motorcars threw up dust as they passed him on their way to town. The farm people were eager to sell their produce: eggs, chickens, milk, cheese and other homegrown or homemade articles. Also, they were eager to hear of more exploits of their Fuehrer and his bloodless conquests: Austria and Czechoslovakia. Who was to fall next and when? Besides, the farm people were interested to hear of any other news, even if they were mostly lies.

This summer, life was invigorating and a tonic to Karl. He was on his way to the Eckart farm to work as he has done every day since school was dismissed for summer vacation, He did the general farm chores around the Eckart dairy farm and doing anything that Herr Eckart asked him to do. Karl enjoyed working outdoors in the fresh air and becoming tanned in the process.

Today was market day for the Eckarts, and Karl knew he would have most of the day to talk and get to know better Hen Eckart’s daughters, Ericka and Eva, while their parents were doing their shopping in town. Also, he had to remember to tell Hen Eckart that his horse harness was repaired and could be picked up at his father’s shop, when they were in town. Karl’s father owned the only leather, boot, and shoe repair shop in the small German farming town. A trade, which Karl's father had learned while a prisoner of war during World War One.

Karl’s mind wandered to the two daughters of Herr Eckart: Ericka and Eva, two young German girls, who were probably the prettiest girls in all of Germany. At least, they were to Karl.

Ericka was the younger of the two sisters, one year separating them in age. She was dark haired and brown eyed, with a body to match her beauty. Eva was the opposite of her younger sister. She was a real Teutonic beauty with flowing blond hair and light-blue eyes to match.

Karl was fond of both the sisters, and at times, had visions of marrying one of them—but which one? It was too early in his life to think of such things, as marriage, but Karl dreamed of them anyway.

Arriving at the gate to the Eckart farm, Karl jumped off the hay wagon, which he had ridden on for the last half of a kilometer. Thanking the driver, he waved good-bye to him. Karl was already beginning to sweat and the sun had just barely shone itself in the eastern sky.

Walking to the back of the well-kept farmhouse, Karl announced himself. Herr Johann Eckart called to him through the open kitchen door, “Come on in Karl, and drink some fresh milk before starting your chores.”

“Thank you,” Karl replied, as he entered the kitchen and sat at the large circular table set in the middle of the room. It was a typical large German farm kitchen: two of the walls completely covered with cupboards, which were filled with cooking and baking utensils. A large, wood-burning stove sat against the third wall, with the long stovepipe leading out through the roof. The fourth wall contained a large window, opening to the east, for the warm morning sun. It allowed a large panoramic view of the open fields and barns of the Eckart dairy farm.

“Hello Karl, how are your parents? Here’s a glass of cool, fresh milk and some sweetbread cakes. Eva made them yesterday. Taste one and tell me what you think of her cooking. Are they sweet enough?” Frau Ida, Johann’s wife, asked.

“Thank you,” Karl said, taking a bite of the cake. “Eva’s a good cook, they taste as good as they look.”

“It’s going to be very hot today, Karl. Why don’t you clean out the cow barn today? It’s indoors and out of the sun, and a lot cooler,” Herr Eckart said.

“That’s fine with me,” Karl answered. “The day’s sure starting out to be a scorcher.”

“Right, the girls and I are going into town to do our weekly shopping and probably won’t be back till late in the afternoon. Frau Ida will fix you lunch,” Continuing Hen Eckart asked, “Are the horse harnesses ready to be picked up or will your father need more time to repair them?”

“Oh, I almost forgot, Dad said that they are ready to be picked up anytime,” Karl answered solemnly, his voice tapering off to a whisper. Hen Johann Eckart grunted a reply.

“If I finish cleaning out the barn before you get back this afternoon, is there anything else you want me to do?” Karl asked.

“If you have any spare time, you can clean out the milking room and scrub the floor extra good. Sometimes the girls don’t do a very good job on it,” he said. Then turning to his wife, he said, “I’ll go hitch up the buggy. Tell the girls I want to leave in about ten minutes.”

Glancing at Karl, he said, “Help me hitch up the horses before you start your chores.”

Herr Eckart didn’t see the disappointment in Karl’s face, but Frau Ida did and felt sorry for the young, German boy. Now, Karl was beginning to understand life and its hardships—especially in the world of love and romance. She had seen the looks between Karl and her daughters and she realized that it wouldn’t be long before serious suitors came to their farm.

Leaving the house, they soon had the horse harnessed and the carriage ready to go. Herr Eckart and his daughters were soon on their way into town, waving good-bye to Frau Ida and Karl.

They watched the buggy as it joined the farm traffic going into town and it was soon out of sight.

“There will be other times to be with my daughters,” Frau Ida said to Karl. “You’re young and have your whole life ahead of you.”

Her words stat-fled him and he felt a blush come over his face. “Does it show that much?” he asked.

“Yes, it does,” Frau Ida replied.

Karl had barely finished cleaning the barn, when Herr Eckart and his daughters returned from town. Ericka and Eva ran rapidly into the house, without a word to Karl. Hen Johann Eckart called to Karl to un-harness the horse and put him in the barn. Hen Eckart’s face was glum and solemn.

Karl hastened to his task, and while walking the horse to the barn, wondered what could have happened to upset them so. It wasn’t their nature to be upset by small things. So what could have happened to upset them so much?

Hen Eckart had run into the house and was trying to comfort his almost hysterical wife. Holding a crushed letter in her shaking hand, she kept repeating, “It can’t be true, it can’t be.”

“Bring some water for her,” Ericka cried. “Calm down, mother. What’s wrong?”

Drinking the cool water that Eva gave her, Frau Ida was more composed. She started to speak, but the words still would not form on her lips. Finally Hen Eckart said, “The Gestapo has arrested her family in Frankfort and they may be coming here next. They are arresting all the Jews and putting them in detention camps.”

Karl, standing in the doorway, heard what Herr Eckart had said and asked himself: Why should the Gestapo arrest Frau Eckart’s relatives? Was she a Jew? There must be a mistake. There has to be an explanation, or is there?

Hen Eckart, seeing Karl standing in the doorway, said to him, “Take the rest of the day off. We have had a tragedy in the family and would like to be alone. You understand, don’t you Karl?”

“I understand,” Karl replied. Actually, he didn’t, not fully anyway. As he started to leave, he asked, “Do you want me to come to help with the chores tomorrow?”

“I’ll let you know Karl. I’ll come by your house or get word to you somehow. Thanks for asking. Please don’t tell anyone what happened here today. We would like to keep it quiet.”

Saying his farewell to Hen and Frau Eckart, and their two daughters, Karl began the long walk home.

CHAPTER TWO

Walking toward the village and home, Karl couldn’t believe what he had just heard. How could the Eckart's be Jewish? They had lived in the village as long as his parents had, maybe longer. Nobody had ever said anything about them being Jewish. Karl knew that the Herr Eckart and his family attended Catholic Church every Sunday. His parents were Protestant and he remembered that on many Sunday mornings, he had seen the Eckart family in front of the Catholic Church after services.

Maybe they were Jews and had changed their religion to keep from being persecuted. Bad things had been happening to the Jews in Germany since Hitler and the Nazis came into power. They seemed to control everything in the lives of the German people now—from birth to death. Most of the people Karl knew disagreed with this policy of discrimination against the Jews and other minorities, but what could the average German do?

Besides, Hitler and his National Socialist Party have done a lot of good things for the German people and for Germany. What happens to a few Jews is no great concern to the average German. But when it happens to a few close friends and good Germans, what then? Is it or is it not important?

Walking down the country road, made even more dusty by the farm people returning from the village to their homes and farms, Karl was confused and in a quandary. The events of today were too much for Karl to comprehend for now, and he would have to talk to his father about them. His father, although no authority on worldly issues, had the ability to make common sense out of most of Karl’s problems in the past, and to bring them into proportion. Anyway, to a point where Karl could understand them.

Finally arriving home, Karl entered his father’s leather shop. His father was busy as usual, cutting leather into different sizes and shapes, forming horse collars, soles for shoes and other leather articles. Karl enjoyed watching his father doing his daily work; with his hands changing the raw leather hides into useful items for his customers.

“Hello, father,” he said, as he entered the leather shop. It smelled of the rich aroma of cured leather. “How has your day been?”

“Fine, as usual,” he answered. “Did you tell Hen Eckart to stop by the shop for his harness or did you forget? He passed by here in such a rush that I didn’t even get a chance to call out to him.”

“I told him, but he got a letter from somebody and it was bad news.” Karl said. “When you have time, can I talk to you? It’s very important and I need your advice on some things.”

“Sure,” his father said. “Can it wait till after supper? Then I can give you my full attention and we can try to work out what is bothering you.”

Karl’s father had been a harness maker and leather worker since World War One. He had been captured by the British on the Belgium front and had been given the choice: learn to make harnesses for the British Army or set out the war in a prison camp. His father realized that the war could be a long one and so he decided to take the easiest way and work for the enemy.

While a prisoner of war, he worked in a British leather factory, where there were better living conditions and he learned a trade that he would follow for the rest of his life. Although he wasn’t an educated man, he chose the simplest way Out of the war—he survived it and learned a trade besides. Other captured German soldiers, more patriotic than him, would starve or almost starve in French and British prison camps, idling away two or three years of their lives for nothing.

Many Germans would have called him a traitor to his country, but to Karl’s father it made good sense not to waste a moment of his life, especially on a senseless war. When the war ended, he decided not to return to his home near Dresden, but to live in a small, country village. Not only would he be able to find work as a leather worker easier, but also he would be lost to his former fellow soldiers. There would be a lesser chance of being recognized in a small town and being chastised for his betrayal to his country. He had married Karl’s mother after living in this small village, west of Bonn near the Belgium border, for several years. He never returned to his city of birth, never giving one thought to return to his former life and family. As far as he was concerned, he was starting a new life, and hopefully, is listed as “missing in action” in the official German Army records.

He and his family had a good life in the quiet German village. His father supported the family by the trade that he had learned during the war. He had opened his own leather and harness repair shop, and was always busy repairing the local farmer’s animal harnesses or making leather boots or clothes for the people in the village. He mostly bartered for his service when there was no cash money available; nevertheless, there was always food on the table and sometimes a little cash money to buy things for his family. It was only lately, since the National Socialist Party was voted into office, that the German Mark had become of any value. At least this government was doing something about the terrible inflation throughout Germany and the lack of jobs for the German worker.

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