For Betty

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  1 Storm from the East

  2 Sounds of Battle

  3 Lost in the Woods

  4 Nothing But Hate

  5 Blood on Our Hands

  6 The Road of Tears

  7 Full of Life

  Historical Note

  Copyright

  “If the dead could speak,

  there would be no more war.”

  – HEINRICH BÖLL

  Chapter 1

  Storm from the East

  East Prussia, Germany – late January 1945

  Bruno Beck stood in the doorway of his house and listened to the booms of big guns somewhere beyond the village. He had heard them for the first time early that morning – just a few hours ago. The sound had been distant then but had grown louder. The fighting was closer already.

  The street was full of people – Bruno’s neighbours running around and shouting. Families were loading all sorts of things onto carts or horse-drawn wagons. There were tables and chairs, lamps and vases, boxes and trunks of clothes. But many people were fleeing from the village with just a bag or suitcase. Mothers carried babies and tried to hold on to toddlers. Grandparents were with older children. But there were no young men. They were all in the Army, fighting elsewhere.

  “Hurry up, Mother!” Bruno yelled. “We must leave now!”

  “I know, I know!” his mother replied. She came out of the sitting room and stood beside him in the doorway. Bruno was eleven and almost as tall as her. They looked alike too. Both of them were slim and had fair hair, but her eyes were brown and Bruno’s were pale blue.

  “I was trying to think if we might need anything else on the journey …” his mother said. “But you’re right, Bruno – I suppose we shouldn’t hang around any longer.”

  They stepped outside, and Mother locked the door behind them. Bruno wondered if they would ever return to their home, but he didn’t ask her. Mother would probably smile and answer, “Of course!” despite thinking the same thing. Bruno was scared and hated leaving, yet they had no choice. He knew Mother was scared too, but she wouldn’t admit it – she wanted to stay strong for him.

  Bruno took Mother’s hand, and they joined the stream of people and wagons passing along the road at the end of the street. The sky was grey, the fields around the village were covered in snow, and it was very cold. Bruno was glad he had a thick coat, a woollen hat and gloves, and good boots. Mother always made sure he had proper, warm clothes, even with everything rationed because of the war.

  Mother was wearing a brown coat, walking boots and a dark-green hat with a wide brim. Bruno carried a rucksack stuffed with as much as he could get into it. He had packed a spare pair of socks, a family photograph from the sideboard, a map of Germany in case they needed it, a loaf of bread, a flask of water. Mother carried a small suitcase and a handbag for her make-up, their ration cards and identity papers.

  “It shouldn’t take too long to get to the station,” Mother said. They were trudging behind a wagon full of children. “I only hope the trains are still running …”

  Bruno hoped so too. They were going to walk to the station in Königsberg, the nearest city. It wasn’t far from their village, and in normal times they would have gone there by bus. But the Army had taken the buses to carry more soldiers to fight. Mother’s plan was to get a train out of Königsberg and escape from the fighting. She wanted to get to the city of Kiel, near the northern border with Denmark.

  Bruno’s father had grown up in Kiel, and Bruno’s grandparents still lived there. Bruno had fond memories of them, despite not having seen them for two years. But he could barely remember Father. The war had begun in 1939, when Bruno was six – five years ago. Father had soon been called up for the Army. Bruno and Mother hadn’t seen much of him after that. He’d sent postcards, but he’d only come home on leave a few times, and the last time had been nearly three years ago.

  Adolf Hitler, the leader of Germany, had been telling the German people for years that they were surrounded by enemies. It meant the German Army had to fight lots of countries in Europe when the war began – Poland, Norway and Denmark, Belgium, Holland and France, Britain. Yet it seemed as if Germany couldn’t lose, and soon it had taken most of Europe.

  Then Hitler decided to invade Russia and declare war on America – two of the biggest and most powerful countries in the world. Most Germans hadn’t been very worried, not after all the early victories in other countries. The German people thought Hitler was a genius who knew how to win wars. But things soon began to go wrong.

  British and American planes bombed German cities, blowing them to pieces and killing thousands of people. The city of Kiel suffered badly – Bruno’s grandparents were lucky not to be killed. In June 1944, the British and American armies landed in France, and before long the German Army was getting beaten there. By the end of 1944, the German Army had been pushed right back to its own western borders. And the Russians kept winning battles, eventually forcing the German Army out of their country too.

  It was now the beginning of 1945, and the Russians were invading Germany like a great storm from the east. They had done terrible things in the first German village they attacked, killing women and children, and setting the houses on fire. Bruno had seen some awful pictures in the newspaper Mother always read. So it wasn’t a surprise that everyone in eastern Germany was panicking. They were desperate to escape before the Russians arrived. Bruno wished he and Mother hadn’t left it so late.

  Hitler was still saying Germany would win. Bruno wasn’t sure about that, despite knowing you weren’t supposed to say so. The secret police arrested people who doubted that Germany would win, and the German Army hanged soldiers who ran away from the fighting.

  There were rumours the Army had also done terrible things in Poland and Russia and elsewhere … All Bruno wanted was for his family to be together again, safe and happy. Yet he and Mother didn’t know where Father was, or even if he was still alive.

  A buzzing noise interrupted Bruno’s thoughts. Two fighter planes were heading in their direction.

  “Don’t worry – they’re ours!” an old man shouted. But Bruno felt a jolt of fear. The planes had red stars painted on their wings – they were Russian!

  “Run, Mother!” Bruno yelled, grabbing her arm. The planes were close now, their engines roaring. Everyone else saw the danger too. People screamed and ran for their lives. Bruno was knocked over in the stampede and lost his hold on Mother. He screamed too, calling for her, but she was lost in the crowd.

  The fighter planes opened fire with their machine guns: RAT‑A‑TAT‑TAT‑TAT! Bruno lay on the road, terrified. He covered his head with his arms and screamed even more.

  And when he finally looked up … he saw that Mother had been hit.

  Chapter 2

  Sounds of Battle

  Bruno got to his feet and ran over to Mother. She was lying very still and her face was pale. Her eyes stared at the sky but didn’t see anything. Bruno fell to his knees and took Mother’s hand, holding it tightly against his lips. Tears ran down his cheeks.

  “She’s dead,” someone said, roughly pulling Bruno to his feet. It was the old man who had shouted about the planes. “You will be too if you don’t get out of here!”

  “Leave me alone!” Bruno screamed, pushing the old man away. In the space of a few seconds, everything had changed. Now the road was a picture of utter horror. Many people had been killed and there was lots of wailing for dead mothers and fathers and children. A badly wounded horse was struggling to stand up. Further along the road a wagon was on fire, the red flames leaping high and thick smoke rising up from it.

  “Don’t be stupid, boy!” the old man yelled. “The Russians are coming!”

  Bruno was confused. Did the old man mean the planes were coming back? Bruno could hear the sound of engines, but these ones seemed different somehow, with a clanking noise … Bruno remembered the sound of the Army’s tanks clanking on their tracks past the village last year. He looked round and saw five tanks coming across the field. But they had red stars painted on their turrets, not German crosses – these tanks were Russian! Suddenly the tanks started firing their guns.

  There was a terrific BOOM! as the first shell landed, then another and another – BOOM! BOOM! Dust and stones and bits of tarmac fell on Bruno, and black smoke rose up over the road. Two German tanks appeared on the other side of the snowy field and started shooting at the Russians. Dozens of Russian soldiers were advancing as well. They walked steadily in a line, firing their rifles and machine guns. Bruno thought he saw some dogs running in front of them.

  The old man grabbed Bruno’s arm and started to drag him away. Bruno kicked and struggled, but the old man was strong and ignored Bruno’s protests. They hadn’t got far when there was another BOOM! – and the old man just seemed to vanish. After that came explosions and machine‑gun fire and people screaming. Bruno ran as fast as he could, at last coming to the edge of a dark wood. He plunged into it, crashing past the undergrowth till he tripped and fell.

  Bruno lay there for a moment, the breath knocked out of him. Then he crawled forward on his hands and knees across the snow and dirt and dead leaves. After a while he came to a tree that had fallen, and he slid into the big hole left by the roots. Bruno huddled down, trying to make himself as small as possible, and put his hands over his ears. But he could still hear the explosions and machine guns and people screaming …
And then he heard a new noise that made his stomach churn with terror.

  Something – or somebody – was heading in his direction, running at speed, crashing past the undergrowth like Bruno had. It was a large black dog, Bruno saw, as it raced ever closer and flung itself into the hole. Bruno felt even more terrified, certain the dog was going to attack him. He scrambled backwards away from it, but the beast left him alone.

  The dog lay panting, its sides heaving, its eyes rolling wildly, its big red tongue lolling out. Bruno realised the poor creature was just as scared as he was.

  The dog was wearing a strange vest that covered most of its body. There were several pockets on each side of the vest, all of them stuffed with some sort of clay. At least that was what Bruno thought it was to begin with. Then he remembered reading in Mother’s newspaper that the Russian Army used dogs as suicide bombers. He’d read they strapped explosives to dogs and sent them running at German soldiers or tanks to blow them up. Bruno had thought it couldn’t be true, but now he knew it was.

  He started to shake in fear. He should get as far away from this dog as possible, he thought – even if that meant getting caught in the battle on the road again. If Bruno stayed and the explosives went off, he would be killed instantly. He noticed the dog was shaking too, and staring at him, locking its eyes onto his. The dog’s eyes were beautiful and brown, and reminded him of Mother … And as soon as Bruno thought of her, he knew he simply couldn’t abandon the dog.

  The vest was only tied to the dog with a few straps and buckles. Bruno carefully eased it off the dog, his hand shaking with fear at the thought of the explosives. At last he threw the vest as far from the hole as he could. He ducked below the rim of his hiding place before the vest landed – but there was no BOOM! Bruno breathed a sigh of relief and lay down beside her – he had realised she was a girl dog when he had removed the vest. She licked his hand and whimpered and pressed herself close to him.

  “There, there,” Bruno said softly, trying to soothe the dog and stop her shaking. The sounds of fighting faded, yet Bruno still felt just as afraid. His mind began to fill with pictures of Mother lying on the road, the life gone from her eyes. Soon he was sobbing. He couldn’t believe she was dead, but it was true. It had happened so fast – she had been alive and then she wasn’t, like a candle flame being snuffed out.

  Now it was the dog’s turn to try to soothe Bruno. She nuzzled at his face, licking his tears away, her rough tongue rasping over his cheeks. Her breath was hot, and Bruno realised he was beginning to feel very cold. He wished this was all a nightmare, that Mother was alive and that he was safe at home. But it was real, and now he began to worry that his own life was still in danger in a different way …

  The short winter afternoon was nearly over. The sky was growing dark, the shadows under the trees thickening. Bruno knew the freezing cold of a winter’s night could kill you. Maybe it would be easier to give up and let himself die, he thought. This was all too difficult and frightening to deal with … But the dog whimpered at Bruno again, as if she knew what he was thinking. Then she started scrabbling in the dead leaves that covered the floor of the hole, burrowing underneath them.

  Bruno watched and decided he didn’t want to die just yet. So he helped the dog. Soon they were snuggled down together, hidden from the world.

  He slept badly, and his dreams were full of blood and fire and red stars.

  Chapter 3

  Lost in the Woods

  Bruno called the dog Frida. The name popped into his mind when he woke at dawn. He had no idea where the name had come from, or what kind of dog she was. She had a smooth black coat, a long, narrow muzzle, big pointed ears that stuck straight up and a short, strong tail. Frida was Russian, of course, and Bruno only spoke German, but she seemed to understand everything he said to her.

  “Thank you, Frida,” Bruno whispered, hugging her. She licked his face and wagged her tail. “I wouldn’t have survived the night without you keeping me warm.”

  More snow had fallen, and they had been only partly sheltered under the roots of the fallen tree. Bruno could see his breath in the freezing air, and he had never felt so cold. His mind was still filled with the horrors of the day before. He felt guilty that he had run away. The thought of Mother lying alone on the road was too much, and he started crying again. But that was no help. He had to go back to her.

  Bruno would need some breakfast first, and so would Frida. He had never had a dog, but he knew how to look after one – there had been plenty in the village. He took the loaf of bread from his rucksack and tore pieces off for Frida and himself. He poured water into his cupped hand for Frida to lap up, and he drank from the flask. Then he returned the loaf and flask to the rucksack, pulled it onto his back and scrambled out of the hole.

  Bruno hurried off, his boots sinking into the deep snow. Frida followed, keeping close to him. She seemed happy that they were together, and he realised he liked it too. It made him feel less alone. At least he had someone to talk to.

  “I should try to bury Mother,” Bruno said quietly to Frida after a while. She looked up at him. “Perhaps the Russians have gone and I’ll find someone to help me.”

  They weren’t a religious family, but he should probably say a prayer for Mother too, he thought. Bruno knew he’d been baptised, but Mother had stopped taking him to church years ago. She hadn’t explained why, and Bruno hadn’t asked.

  They came to the edge of the wood at last. Bruno peered out, staying hidden behind a tree, and his heart sank – the Russians were still there. The field beyond the road was a huge Russian camp, full of tents and parked tanks and Russian soldiers. He could see the burnt wagon on the road, but not Mother’s body. And he knew that if he got any nearer, the Russians would probably spot him right away.

  Bruno realised there was nothing he could do for Mother – a terrible thought. He felt angry and full of grief, and he told himself he should find Mother even if that meant the Russians killed him. But Frida growled softly at the sight of the soldiers, the noise bubbling up from deep inside her. She started to back off, looking at Bruno. Her brown eyes pleaded with him to come away before it was too late.

  Frida was right, of course. Mother would want Bruno to stay alive, even if it meant leaving her unburied. He closed his eyes and called up a memory, a day when Mother had been happy and laughing. “Goodbye, Mother,” Bruno murmured. He opened his eyes and looked out at the road and the field, fixing it all into his mind. He promised Mother that he would always remember the place where she died.

  Then he turned and quickly walked away, Frida trotting along beside him.

  Bruno stopped a while later to get his bearings. They were still in the wood, but he thought they could stop without worrying they’d be found. He had already decided he would stick to Mother’s plan – they would head west, towards Kiel and his grandparents. But there was no point trying to catch a train.

  “It looks like the Russians have got between us and the station at Königsberg, Frida,” Bruno said. He was sitting on an old tree stump, studying his map of Germany. “So we’re going to have to walk, at least until we get a lot further from here …”

  Bruno and Frida walked all that day, and the next. The roads were full of refugees – people fleeing from the Russians with their wagons. So Bruno and Frida kept to the woods as much as possible. They saw more Russian attacks, more blood and death, more villages burning, more smoke rising into the sky. On the second night they found an abandoned barn to sleep in, and on the third night, an empty hut.

  The loaf of bread was long gone, and Bruno was beginning to feel very hungry. On the fourth day Frida went hunting and killed a rabbit, but Bruno had no way of cooking it, and he couldn’t face eating it raw. Every so often a wave of grief would consume him, and Bruno would cry quietly for a while. Yet he kept trudging onwards with Frida.