Klaus (December
4th 1958)
'They are coming!' a voice shouted with fear from the first floor, and a rhythmic sound of footsteps is heard climbing higher and higher into the hideout - everyone starts praying as they barricade the door.
There is smokerising from small fireplaces inside the compound, rats go out of their holes asthey can sense the danger coming, the men mutter in desperation as the smoke starts entering through the windows and cracks 'We must run!' shouts a young boy waiting at the door with a rifle in his hand 'There's no going back now…' an old man responds as he lit a tattered old cigar he found in his pocket.
The other men stood silent around the door and the fire inside the room that gave a slight release from the tension that wrapped around their necks. Steps were heard at the same time as the uttering of commands in a language that is too vague to describe at this moment. The men inside the room start trembling, holding tight to their guns
and to their friends, all but one man who stands with its back to the door, getting ready to speak to the radio. With a yellowish-white skin decorated with
scars and bruises, his hand creeps out of his trench coat, grabs the radio's microphone and brings it to his mouth while his other hand turns the radio switch on.
The screeching sound of the radio fills the silent room with more desperation than it already had as the young start crying with regret and sadness. The older and stronger men start bracing the door to hold off the assailants. They can feel their breath, their beating hearts and all the words they mutter as the attack commences.
The man in the back bore a black mustache that gave him an aura of royalty; but modesty and humbleness was not lacking in his stature as he rose from his chair while his hand was still holding the radio, his lips were dried like he has not had water in days and as he drew a big breath and his lungs filled with black smoke and then he said silently and gently:' Dear citizens of our proud nation, this is why I must die today' the message was transmitted to all radio stations in Europe.
This is how I die but that story is yet to be
told. I am Klaus, son of Johann Arnberg and Lucille Arnberg we were members of German nobility, closely related to the Hohenzollern line of kings and
emperors, but it was all meaningless back then, all relations, old friendships and above all, honor, what happened back then was everything but honor. I was
too little then… all that I remember was the bitter cold that froze my sweat on my skin and the clothes to my flesh. But the thing that I most strongly remember was the tears of my mother as they fell on my face to protect me from the freezing winds…
(December 4th 1918)
My mother and I were having supper in our
house near the Danube River. I can still remember everything in that house. My room was at the first floor, that's where I spent most of my time playing,
reading, learning history and mathematics. Even though we were aristocrats my dad never accepted any other teacher than himself, only after I came of age would he allow that. While most children in the nearby town of Ulm were going to school, playing football, I always enjoyed my books and my stories, but my dreams were all I ever wanted. I wanted to be a hero, a symbol for everyone to look up to.
My home was always warm, always in harmony, this' was the best thing in my life and the happiest feelings I would ever have. My parents were modest - even though they could have lived in a big mansion on the seaside, they always longed for the
peace of the countryside. My mom, was
always cooking something new every day, I never knew how she could do that, Ican barely make an omelet even now.
The estate was surrounded by a thick stone fence with a sturdy wooden door that led to the main road to town. My house was a green refuge from the world – a world governed by fire and war, but that day would be my last day of peace, it was the time that my family embraced fire…
That daystarted just like any other, went by like any other, the snow was falling heavily and the house was encircled with layers of snow and ice in such a way that you could not see 5 feet in front of you. The thermometer showed -15 degrees, mom did not let me go outside that day, she didn't want me to get
sick, and it's a pure irony that it was for naught.
Like I said before , I was having supper with my mother, this was the only time when dad was not present for supper, mom looked very worried that day if I recall correctly while me ? Well, I was thinking of what I should be doing afterward, what book to read and about a drawing of the big oak in the middle of our yard.
It was then when dad barged in sweaty, desperate and with such eyes that he never looked upon us before, my body filled with fear and I started crying as I didn't know what was going to happen, all I had was a feeling of a deadly hand of crippling
fear that crawled on the back of my spine.
'We must leave, now! Grab everything we can and head to the boat, we must not wait a single minute more than we have to, they are 1 mile away and closing fast, we must go!' – my dad exclaimed in a very hurried and desperate tone. His voice
growled against the background noise of the fireplace and the smell of the last meal I had in that house…
Mom grabbed my hand and my thick fur cloak and pulled me and told me that everything will be fine, that we are just leaving for a time, and that we will come back, she did not know that day that it will
be the last time we see our home, it will be the last time we see something that we can call home.
Dad grabbed some food that could fit in a small bag and took me in his arms and burst through the door running while holding mom's hand. The moment of impact with the cold air is still embedded into my memories as it cut my breath like someone took water from the arctic and poured it over my chest. In that moment I couldn't hear anything but the voice of my parents telling me it was going to be alright, that we would make it safe.
When I took a glimpse out of my fathers' arms I could see fire coming from Ulm, and thick smoke came in from the same direction but not from the fire, but from the hundreds of soldiers that marched
towards our home.
It was then that I saw firsthand the cruelty of the people that liberated the world - they used dynamite to blow up the wooden gate from our fence, it was in that moment that dad put me down on the snow and threw my mother down on the ground and protected us with his body.
One bolder flew near us and I heard dad screaming silently in pain , his body was shacking and when I looked I saw a big boulder from the gate that fell on his right hand , it was impossible to say at that
time the state in which his hand was.
What followed was even more nightmarish , three soldiers entered the yard and started to move to the house , one held a rifle the others torches , the boulder and the snow sheltered us from the eyes of the invaders for now but it could not have been worse as I was the only one that could watch as the other two soldiers neared the house and started to set fire to our home , our only home ,my dream castle had become my first nightmare and my last beautiful memory.
My dad saw one of the soldiers approaching and quickly realized that our presence would
not go unnoticed for long, so he drew a knife from under his coat and slowly pulled his hand from under the stone while looking directly into my mother's eyes - she nodded as if they were communicating - soon after mom grabbed my hand and held me tightly around her.
In a split second, when the soldier got close to the bolder, father quickly rose and covered the soldier's mouth with the bloody hand whilst the other quickly went around his throat and made sound that back then I strongly compared it to opening a letter…
I still remember it to this day… blood dripping down my father's leg and into the pure white snow, father quickly let that man down , grabbed the rifle and looked around to see if the other soldiers would see us but no sooner than that men were coming
through the gate. We could barely see their faces as the snowfall covered everything and made them seem more like ghosts and demons that other human beings.
One word came out of my father's mouth 'Run' and so I did through the snow like I never had before, the snow was like a million needles that punctured through my skin and my mom was holding me like
the shackles in a prison, she was holding me so tightly that my hand got blue.
No sooner than we reached the river, the soldiers saw us and ran towards us with rifles pointing at us, urging us to stop running and surrender. The thing I remember most about that second is the shot that dad took at the soldiers ,and my mom's scream that followed ,afterwards all I heard was my ears ringing in tone with the gunshots that followed. Mom threw me hard in the boat and she soon raced to cover me from harm, dad quickly got on the boat, started the engine and we were off.
While we were making our way down the river, gunshots were still coming at us, and we could see cars and horses pilling in behind us, but the forest will keep us from harm's way. We respected her and for that she helped us escape as a snowy fog set foot behind us. Hearing the shouts of the soldier getting quieter and quieter, gave me relief but it was not going to last long.