Yesterday Was Long Ago: Part Two Read online

  “Now I remember. Anything ever become of it?”

  “No. He and William change girls like shirts. It’s downright disgusting.”

  “Someone will come along.”

  “I hope so. I would love to be a ‘granny’, as at my age everyone else is.”

  “Fifty-five is not that old, Kathryn.”

  “Old enough.”

  They talked more about insignificant things, but set a date for Anne’s new place in New York so their husbands could meet, and also spend a day in Scarsdale to see Daniella, Chris and the baby. When each one arrived home, they felt so happy about their get-together and Frank and Donald agreed with their wives on a day to meet. After all, it was late October, Indian summer in New York, and both families would leave for winter; Frank for two weeks in Palm Beach, his wife staying until March, and Kathryn McAllister to Sedona, Arizona, doing the same thing. Their husbands didn’t mind the cold in New York. In fact, it was welcomed after their hot summers.

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  Don Reed McAllister was flying the B17 over Germany, and William Grant was now in Sicily. The U.S. 7th Army invaded Italy on July 10, and while his parents enjoyed the Indian summer, he fought Germany’s fierce resistance. But then again, both of the McAllister’s sons didn’t want it any other way.

  1944

  28

  This was supposed to be the year which by all accounts would end the war. Rumors followed rumors about an American invasion somewhere in France. But where it would take place was Hitler’s and his staff’s greatest worry and they only guessed. Russia was pressing forward still with the same determination since regaining Stalingrad, and so far, they had greatly succeeded. There was no turning back, but the Germans kept on fighting with all they had in men and artillery. By now, the air raids were so frequent and taken so much for granted that the people wondered what it would be like if they had a night without bombers roaring and the noise of their anti-aircraft in full force.

  But on March 6th, there was round-the-clock bombing against Berlin with about 800 bombers and mustang fighter escorts. SS Major Rupert Foster and his family were, like the other Berliners, at the air raid shelters near their villa, and as always, endured the many heavy bombers pounding the city. But this time it seemed to be extra loud and the anti-aircraft heavy. So far, the Fosters had been spared until today, when a direct hit killed hundreds of people instantly, Gisela, Rupert and the children among them. Yet it was one of the most secure shelters in Berlin. Not good enough for thousands of other ones either.

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  Don Reed McAllister returned safely to England but wrote to his parents that many of his good buddies didn’t make it back. His family was a bundle of nerves by the time his letters arrived. William was in Italy, promoted the previous day to Major, and on the General’s staff working on logistics. He was gifted with a quick and photographic memory, having no problem taking care of ten things at once. And the fact that the General’s name was Ian McCain didn’t hurt. Two Scotsmen would do just fine in a staff of many unpronounceable names. Both were quite somber, although they had a very dry sense of humor and a high level of tolerance.

  By May, about one-and-a-half million U.S. soldiers were brought to England for the invasion. Those ‘damn Yankees’ caused at times some tension, especially when it came to women. One English paper wrote they were ‘overpaid, oversexed, and over here’. The following month, it was an entirely different situation. It was June 6, D-Day, and thousands of the accused ‘Yanks’ were gone forever.

  William was still in Italy, awaiting orders to be moved somewhere else, along with many other GIs. So far, he had enjoyed the beautiful parts of Italy, their works of art being exquisite. Italy was now on America’s side, as once the Germans started to lose, they knew it was hopeless.

  If June 6 was the official ‘D-Day’ and the McAllisters still had two letters arriving dated on the tenth and eighteenth of June, the twentieth would be for them their very own D-Day, standing for ‘Don Reed’. He was bombing Berlin and continued on with other U.S. planes and fighters to Poltava, Russia, where the Germans still had an airstrip to defend with anti-aircraft guns. He was one of many to be shot down.

  The McAllisters, upon hearing about it, were devastated. Kathryn took to her bed and had a nurse attending her day and night, as her husband and brother-in-law, who had lived with the family all of his adult life, were in no position to help. Kathryn McAllister would never admit it to anyone, but Don Reed, the younger of their two sons, was her favorite. William was born barely a year after their marriage and Kathryn, who put him in the care of a nanny, felt he had marred her six-month honeymoon around the world, as she was sick most of the time. Don Reed, on the other hand, was born five years later. By then, Kathryn and Donald were longing for another child. Two years later, Barbara came along and their family was complete.

  William Grant was a very difficult boy, changing nurses and governesses frequently, as his parents were gone for many weeks. They whispered that the ‘G’ in Grant stood for ‘God’. He always got what he wanted, especially later in life as he was the more handsome and smarter of the two sons. And Barbara was nothing but vain.

  Although having entirely different interests and never being particularly close as brothers, the news about Don Reed hit hard. His Uncle William, called Bill by everyone, was very saddened, but his favorite nephew was always William Grant, and not for his name’s sake either. Tall, good-looking with blond wavy hair, which on any sunny day had a reddish tint to it, along with bright blue eyes, he looked every bit like his uncle looked at thirty. Bill McAllister fell one time deeply in love, but the girl was of the Jewish faith and neither family permitted such a marriage. Both were still single, as neither had fallen in love again.

  Kathryn McAllister recuperated very slowly and gave orders to leave Don Reed’s rooms untouched, and she never entered again. It was too painful. Her busy husband barely had a chance to mourn, spending every free moment consoling his grieving wife. The fact that many of their friends had lost a son too never occurred to her, and her brother-in-law Bill was irate about it, but knew better than to give his opinion. Barbara came to stay, with her own husband somewhere in Europe. However, mail from him still arrived though sometimes two months apart. But so far, he was well.

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  Hitler retaliated for D-Day with his ‘V-one’ rockets, bombing England day and night. The English population suffered, at times, as much as Germany’s. Their city became a pile of rubble with the hungry survivors not knowing where to turn. The German radio still blasted its march music, ‘Today we own Germany and tomorrow the whole wide world’. Most Germans wondered, however, now fearing the worst. But then again, there was Joseph Goebbles, who came up with new propaganda daily to convince the downtrodden Germans that in the end, they would win, as their newly invented wonder rockets were not the only surprise for the enemy of the great Aryan race. They would crush the Jewish country of America with V2.

  Vienna was, by now, bombed too. However, it was light compared to the industrial towns of Germany, as well as beautiful, little quaint towns whose bombings made no sense at all. On July 20, some of Hitler’s own officers tried to assassinate him without success. Hitler retaliated by putting tens of thousands of Jews or other innocent victims in concentration camps to death. Himmler, whose motto was that ‘a Jew is not a human being’ was only too happy to oblige the Führer.

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  The Reinhardts and Fosters were in no way different than any other family who lost their loved ones. In their case, there were six. After hearing via the radio and reading in the newspapers about those severe air attacks over Berlin and receiving no letters the past ten weeks, they had little choice but to assume the worst. Their own letters were returned without any explanation except ‘Return to Vienna’. Even the stoic Victoria took it extremely hard, just walking from room to room, nervously hoping for a miracle. The two Fosters were even worse off, as they lost everything they lived for. Although Victoria’s sons and
their wives came for visits, they left even sadder. When a few officers and industrialists pleaded to a high Nazi official to declare Vienna an open city, the Führer replied that it must be defended like any other German city, which meant defend it to the last man. With the Americans and Russians pressing forward, encircling Germany from both sides, the soldiers still fought ferociously as if a win were possible.

  Paul felt he had to make a decision with the weather still passable. He sat down and explained to his family in a calm manner that his wife, son, and mother had to leave as soon as possible. Since it was a family meeting, Peter suggested Erika and their two little ones would go along, as well as many of their servants. Peter and Paul knew that once those hordes of Russians set foot on enemy soil, nothing would be sacred. And no one blamed them either, especially the Reinhardts, who had seen how the prisoners were treated in Austria. Gaby knew how badly Paul must have felt, as they had never been separated since their marriage. Peter, too, seemed to agree, as he was spending every day and some nights at the hospital.

  It was quite common that they barely saw one another. Like everyone else, Peter and Paul always looked overly tired. Paul was afraid of an uprising leading to a civil war. There was not one of his engineers or old recalled workers who believed this war could be won. They were, through the underground radio broadcasts, very well-informed that by August there was a new, third army making its way towards the west. They were also told that the new Commander, General Patton, was quite a man to be reckoned with. However, one was always better off to have a western enemy. After all, Russia’s people went several times to hell and back.

  By the end of October, the Reinhardt women and children had left, except for Isabella, who like all those connected with the hospital, stayed. So did the von Waldens. Andreas was, after all, a doctor, his wife Theresa, like Isabella, a nurse in surgery, and Astrid had to think it over. Though no one knew why, their gut feeling was that America or England might take Salzburg. Lillian and little Karl stayed too, along with the servants, to look after everything. Every Reinhardt place had a few secret passageways in which to hide. There were beautifully painted doors, like many other ornate panels, which had an entrance only a Reinhardt knew. It was the late architect Otto Reinhardt’s idea after the uprising of 1848, where many mansions lost priceless items by the out-of-control mobs.

  Paul also showed the Wilands those special hiding places, should it ever come to that. It was Karl’s dream house which had on each floor two beautifully painted panels which were entrances or exits, any way one wanted to use it. The men were equally grateful and told Paul they thought of leaving Vienna too. “Well, a lawyer can afford to leave,” he thought. But the owner of three factories along with a few hundred employees, most of them prisoners, cannot.

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  The winter of 1944 would be in the memories of any survivor of this war. What was foreseen as the end was, for many, the beginning of an even fiercer campaign. A few years before, it was Stalingrad, which after two years of siege was finally free, although with uncountable deaths through starvation. Now it was the Battle of the Bulge in Luxemburg. Every soldier fought for his life with the same determination he fought for his country. And as far as Christmas went, it was the most somber and cheerless one anyone could remember.

  The Reinhardts put up a tree in Salzburg strictly for the sake of their children. Otherwise, there were only tears connected with memories of all previous Christmases. The Reinhardts in Vienna were not much different. Little Karl got a tree and was permitted to hang a few cookies himself. The servants looked sorrowful, having by now lost a loved one or hoping for one’s return. There were still those many missing. France was now completely liberated, exchanging their Germans for Americans. However, they too were thinking how their sons or husbands were doing as P.O.W.s . If they had the luck to be at the Reinhardts’ place, they did quite well. Also, other Austrians treated them well. With every able man in the war, many love affairs were the norm. Isabella volunteered her Christmas Eve for nurses who were mothers and were needed at home this evening. Everyone hoped 1945 would be the year that would bring peace.

  1945

  29

  As far as New Year’s Day went, it was for every Viennese, and for that matter every other human-being, as uneventful as it could possibly get, providing he was lucky enough to be a civilian. While Isabella and Theresa slept soundly after a seventeen-hour day of uninterrupted work, Peter, Paul, and Andreas listened to the “Enemy Broadcasting”, and had the great luck not to encounter the usual noisy interception. Their greatest concern was still all the fighting at the Battle of the Bulge, as Hitler put every able soldier in Belgium to take revenge against the loss of France.

  Most Americans were stunned, with many being called back from their furlough in Paris. Hitler also found solace at the results of his rockets, which not only bombarded London but now even Antwerp, Belgium with what he considered great successes. But it was the only one, as by now the Americans, thanks to the lifting of the heavy fog and General Patton’s arriving tanks, gained the upper hand. Until that time, there were heavy casualties on both sides. Now everything seemed to be going well again and the listeners who were cheering for the opposition of Hitler were greatly relieved. But the fast advancing Russian troops were another story. They created a problem, as no one looked forward to encountering any of them, even if it meant shortening the war. The German soldiers were retreating, blowing up every available bridge and whatever other damage could be done to avoid being taken as prisoners of the Russians.

  It was no different for the many thousands of fleeing refugees, be it by horse or cattle wagon. They all were entering Vienna to rest up a bit. It became a city of mass transit, with the sick ones looking for a doctor or a hospital. No one had any plans to stay longer than absolutely necessary, as by now most of the Viennese had themselves left to be as far west as possible. The winter of 1944-1945 was extremely harsh, and it was again a case of the survival of the fittest.

  This grave situation gave Paul and Peter a great idea. They would open Lindenfels castle along with their Viennese mansion as a Red Cross station, hang a sizeable large flag out, and help everyone possible. Andreas von Walden was overjoyed. Their patients were scattered all over the hospital, mostly in hallways, where it was often very difficult to get a patient on a stretcher to the operating room in a hurry.

  Instead of getting their needed rest and sleep, that trio of Peter, Paul, and Andreas made lists and plans for the most urgently needed items with beds and blankets topping the list. They would ask all their friends and acquaintances for help, and knew that each and every one would be happy to supply. There were also the Fosters. All their time was spent looking out of the window for a sign of their loved ones. Since no one lived in Rupert Jr.’s house, there were many empty beds, plenty of linens and pillows, nevermind all those many badly needed blankets. The distraught Fosters also begged the Reinhardts to take all of Gisela’s good furniture, as some of their neighbors were now making red armbands and had prepared themselves for a takeover by the Russians, belonging to an underground Communist Party. Knowing Rupert, Jr. belonged to the infamous SS, they would strip the house of everything, including the doorknobs. The Reinhardts agreed. The Fosters had closed their grocery store to customers, but had plenty of food hidden in their cellar. And what better place than to transport them legally via a sled and ambulance to the new hospitals.

  There were occasionally air raids by the Russians to let Austria know they were coming nearer and were very close to Vienna. After two heavy air raids on January 15 and February 7, most of the citizens spent their days and night in their shelters awaiting their fate. But on March 12, the British-American air attack was the heaviest so far and most Viennese left their shelters afterwards.

  Their beloved opera house took a direct hit beyond help, and one could only watch day and night as it burned to the ground. Also, the famous Burgtheater was severely damaged and the roof from St. Stephans dome was burning.
Those were some of Vienna’s beloved landmarks and one cried regardless of the many other houses and buildings that were destroyed. The sky was, by late evening, bright red from east to west and the many onlookers were too stunned and too numb to move.

  The Reinhardts rushed to the late Karl and Louise’s dream house and couldn’t believe that it was still standing untouched in a row of bombed-out and burning buildings. Doubtless, the servants were killed, as their masters were all somewhere west. “Maybe Karl and Louise are still watching out for their place,” Paul remarked sadly.

  “Ask them to watch for all our hospitals. We need them now, and in the future even more. The drama and destruction has just begun. Only God knows where and when it will end,” Peter responded dejectedly.

  They decided to see the opera house, where they encountered some of their friends, who were visibly disturbed and who remarked that it was exactly seven years to the day that the Germans marched into Austria. It all seemed like yesterday, and yet somehow it had been an eternity.

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  On March 30, 1945, Russia’s third Ukrainian front crossed into Austria from liberated Hungary.

  Once more, the Reinhardts, whose places were now hospitals and full to the last bed, including sleeping on stretchers or blankets on the floor, had a private meeting in their beloved breakfast room.

  “If only those walls could talk,” Peter said, still in good humor as he felt the end was near. “It will not be a good end, but Vienna will make the best of the worst in order to survive.”

  “Yes, if they only could,” Paul replied. “they would possibly use Prince Talleyrand’s wise prediction that ‘to destroy Austria would replace order with chaos’. But we came together to finally plan for ourselves, as there is not much time to lose before the fighting in the city starts. All transportation has come to a halt and no one is permitted to leave Vienna, be it by horse, car, truck, or train. I have been told that quite a few soldiers hang on a tree for treason.”