Cold Victory

Herr Dr Steinbrueck rose to his feet. “Your Honours. Before addressing the shocking events which have led to this trial, I wish to talk to you about the brave young man who cannot be here today: the victim. Let me tell you about Friedrich Adelbert von Bredow, known to his family and friends as ‘Fritz.’

“Fritz was born on a large but far from prosperous estate in Pomerania, the second son and third child of Alfred Berthold von Bredow and his wife Clarita. Just weeks after he was born, his father left to join his regiment at the outbreak of the Great War. While his father did his patriotic duty, Fritz’s mother carried the burden of raising her family, running the farm, and keeping her children safe from deserters and Polish terrorists attempting to expel Germans from the region. Although she succeeded, her eldest boy developed polio and was soon confined to a wheelchair. As if that weren’t bad enough, her husband returned an invalid, gassed by the British.” The prosecutor cast an accusing look over his shoulder at David as he made this announcement. Christian rolled his eyes.

Steinbrueck continued, “At the age of eight, little Fritz was sent away to a cadet school in Stettin. He landed in an environment that was Spartan in its lack of comfort and luxury and ruthless in its dedication to turning little boys into men. Yet Fritz thrived in the school. He was not a scholar, but he was good at sports. He excelled at fencing and running and above all at riding. That was important because, on his school holidays, he had no time to play and have fun. No, Fritz worked hardest during the holidays because, with his brother and father both physically handicapped, it fell to little Fritz to help his mother hold things together.

“These were terrible times,” Steinbrueck intoned. “They were years of lawlessness and failed government. Years of crippling reparations, astronomical inflation, and unprecedented unemployment.” David and Christian exchanged a look of disgust.

Alix sprang to her feet with an objection, “The Weimar Republic is not on trial here, your honours. The defendant was an infant when the Republic was established and thirteen when it ended. She was not responsible for conditions.”

“Sustained.”

“The point, your honours, is that at a very tender age, Fritz von Bredow became the ‘man’ that his mother leaned upon. Although still a youth, she turned to him with her problems as her husband’s health deteriorated and her eldest son, unable to cope with his handicap, turned increasingly to drugs.”

“How does he know that?” David wrote on a slip of paper that he passed Christian.

Christian scribbled back, “I suspect they’ve found Fritz’s sister. She was always jealous of Fritz and detested Charlotte.”

Steinbrueck continued, “It was because his parents needed him that Fritz was not one of those who volunteered for service. He waited until he was conscripted before proudly donning the uniform of our heroic army. Yet although a late-comer, Fritz soon proved his worth. His skill in the saddle attracted attention and honours — all the way to the German Olympic team. During the 1936 endurance event, Fritz von Bredow captured the hearts of all Germany. At the water jump which brought so many riders to disaster, Fritz’s horse also refused and lost his footing; Fritz tumbled into the pond. To the shock of the spectators, Fritz seemed in no hurry to recapture his mount, regain the saddle and continue the ride. His delay ran up increasing penalty points. Eventually, however, he did remount and continue the parcourse. Only at the end, did we learn that Fritz had broken his collarbone in the fall. Despite his injury, in pain and with just one hand to control his mount, he not only mastered the remaining obstacles but also secured for Germany the Olympic Gold medal in team eventing.”

David pushed Christian another note. “Is that true?”

“Yes,” Christian confirmed in writing.

David had not dreamed that his rival was such a hero. He looked intensely at Charlotte, but she was staring straight ahead.

Steinbrueck continued in an indulgent tone, “As you can imagine, Fritz was quite admired by the ladies after that! But he was a shy young man, not attracted by flashy ladies of the night, glamorous socialites or alluring actresses. He didn’t want a city girl at all. He wanted a girl who shared his love of nature, horses, hunting, and the great open landscapes of his homeland.”

David saw Charlotte stiffen and then recoil when the prosecutor spun and pointed at her as he declared in a loud accusing voice: “He fell in love with that — that woman there.” David thought he heard Charlotte gasp. Alix certainly laid a hand on her arm to calm her.

Meanwhile, Steinbrueck explained, “Fritz met her at a ball hosted by a distant cousin. She seemed to be the woman of his dreams. She came from a good but rural family. She had grown up, like him, helping out on the estate. She loved horses and she could hunt too. Fritz in his innocence taught her how to use a gun — and how to shoot to kill.”

Charlotte’s hands balled into fists and Alix stroked her arm and wrote something down. Christian murmured in David’s ear, “Nonsense. Her brothers taught her to shoot long before Fritz entered the picture.”

“Fritz was bedazzled, and — to be fair — so was everyone else,” Steinbrueck conceded. “Just six weeks after that fateful meeting, they became engaged. The letters of congratulation flooded in from far and wide. It was the perfect match. The perfect pair. Fritz and Lotte, as they called her then. The pictures show two young people who can hardly take their eyes off one another. A young couple in love.” He paused dramatically and then continued.

“But Germany was at war. Fritz had to return to his unit. Lotte promised him she would wait forever. No matter how long the war lasted, she told him, Fritz would find her waiting longingly for his return.”

Christian pressed down on David’s arm and wrote out: “She was twenty-two years old and until then very sheltered.”

David nodded back. He didn’t blame her for falling in love with such a dashing young man. Indeed, hearing this story which made no mention of Fritz in the Hitler Youth or any other Nazi association helped him understand Charlotte a little better. She had not fallen in love with a Nazi or a military man but with a modern-day knight.

“Fritz went back to war. To his panzer regiment. He fought at Minsk and Moscow and the Second Battle of Kharkiv and with his comrades of the IV Panzer Corps he advanced toward Stalingrad.” Steinbrueck paused dramatically and continued in a sombre tone of voice. “I’m sure I do not need to remind this court what happened. The weather turned against us. The tanks became bogged down in mud.”

Scowling, David started to scribble another indignant note to Christian: “What does this have to do with Charlotte?” Yet as he went to pass the scrap of paper to Christian he caught sight of the judges’ faces. All three had pulled themselves erect, eyes misted. He realised that Steinbrueck knew exactly what he was doing by appealing to the patriotism of the judges. The question was what did Alix have to counter it? He was getting increasingly worried.

Steinbrueck continued his narrative, “Heavy cloud and snow grounded our heroic Luftwaffe, while the Soviet counter-offensive encircled our troops. Little by little the supplies ran out. The gallant efforts of the Luftwaffe and the brilliant tactics of the great Feldmarshall von Manstein were not enough. The 6th Army was starved into submission. And Fritz?

“Fritz’s last letter to his mother was dated 5 November, but his last letter was to his beloved Lotte on 17 November. Two days later, in the fury of the Soviet counter-offensive, Fritz went missing. That was the last anyone in Germany heard from him for six years.” Steinbrueck paused and in the silence, Charlotte squirmed and wrote something to Alix.

“But Fritz was not dead,” Steinbrueck resumed his narrative. “Fritz had become a prisoner of the Ivans. He was treated with unfathomable cruelty because he was not one of those worms who pretended to embrace Communism to better his lot.”

Steinbrueck continued with great pathos, “Without adequate food or clothes, he was forced to labour in the sub-zero temperatures of Siberia. He was beaten — so badly that one eyeball was partially dislodged and could no longer focus. Yet he never broke down. He never became a traitor!” He spat the word in Alix’s direction. “He never abetted the Soviets. He remained a true German focused on only one thing: escape and return to his Lotte.”

“It took him six years. Six years during which his parents died and his family properties were handed over to the Polacks. Six years in which he lost his toes to frostbite and many of his teeth to malnutrition. Over six horrible years in Soviet slavery, one thought kept him alive: that his Lotte was waiting for him.

“And then the day came. Fritz managed to drag himself out of Siberia one step at a time. He managed on his crippled feet, dressed in rags, to cross a continent. Motivated and strengthened by love alone he made it to Berlin, to the very apartment where his Lotte lived.” He stopped and cast David a hateful look before readdressing the judges. “Only to discover that his Lotte wasn’t waiting for him. The inconstant, disloyal, faithless hussy had decided that she didn’t want to wait for a German hero. No, she preferred the luxury and lifestyle our occupation forces could offer.”

“Objection! The defendant welcomed Bredow into her apartment—”

“Oh, yes. She pretended to take him in. She let him sleep in her apartment — in the guest room. But she did not take him back into her arms, her heart, or her bed. No. Instead, she waited until she had the perfect opportunity to point a pistol at his face and BLOW HIS BRAINS OUT!” He raised his voice to shout out the last phrase making everyone in the courtroom recoil.