The Chapter from the Past

The Move

History inevitably weaves its way through time, grasping at the fibers of the past and clinging to its memories, remembering only shadows of the people who once lived it. History starved its way into the lives of Davis and Elsie Wolff.

Davis and Elsie are a newlywed, seeking a new chapter in life. Davis is an architect, now working for a small firm near Baltimore, and Elsie is a baker by trade, looking for her next opportunity. Ellicott City has the charm of a small town yet the culture and proximity to the big city.

The home they recently settled in is Davis’ family home. Davis recalls his Aunt living there when he was a child and was always told that it belonged to his great-grandfather. The details surrounding his family are somewhat cloudy and unfamiliar to Davis, but he feels closer to them just by living in their new home.

The House

Old houses can speak to you if you listen, and this house wanted to have a conversation. It is a tall farmhouse, with wooden siding in desperate need of new paint, one black shutter is missing, a few others are hanging on for dear life. Upon arriving, Elsie squinted to see the possibility of the dwelling as she bore what luggage she could carry. Davis was as excited as if he were unwrapping a gift, stretching out of the driver’s side, he shrieked,

“Well look at that would ya? Needs some tuning, but still in fairly good shape.” Nostalgia and the sun stunted Davis’ view of the residence. Planks from the porch were caving in and chipped paint lined the door.

“Yeah, I guess.” Elsie scoffed.

“Ah, well just you wait, in a few months it will be unrecognizable. Some new paint, new shutters too.” Davis saw the potential while his memories swirled around.

“You’re right, we can make it into something that feels like home.” Elsie dragged her belongings through the large oak door. The door creaked as if it were going to tell you a secret. The inside was dark and stuffy, old furniture lined the entry way. A massive wooden staircase climbed to the second floor, Elsie touched the banister and wiped off a layer of dust,

“It looks like no one has been in here in decades.” Elsie rumbled.

“Well, they haven’t. My Aunt lived here for the longest time with her husband and kids, we would visit on Sundays for dinner, but we all grew up. She moved when she divorced her husband. My parents are still up the road though.” Davis recounted.

The Adjustment

Elsie took on the responsibility of cleaning and decorating their house, she did not mind since she is currently looking for work. She filled her days with moving furniture and home improvement projects. Davis would help when he returned home from long days at the firm.

Weeks flew by and the house was taking shape. Elsie would sometimes go vintage shopping downtown to pass the time when she felt lonely or disconnected. One day in town, Elsie stumbled across an antique writing desk, she could not bear to part ways with it. Davis’ mother was with her and chimed in,

“It is a stunning piece; do you think you have room for it?”

“I’ll make room for it, perhaps in the dining room.” Elsie was determined.

Upon both women dragging the desk inside, Elsie parted her pale sunlit hair to wipe sweat from her brow. She pardoned her mother-in-law.

“You do not have to stick around. I am sure you need to get home.” Helen, Elsie’s mother-in-law, had no other plans.

“How about some tea?” she suggested. Elsie huffed as she parted to the kitchen to grab the kettle.

“Careful, it is very hot.” The two women sat at the kitchen table, holding their teacups with both hands, sipping cautiously.

“Davis loved it here, he would ride his bike all of the time with his cousins. You can still see the trail they would take that goes all the way down to a creek.” Helen reminisced.

“I think I’ve seen it while looking from our bedroom window. He mentioned his Aunt lived here for a long time before moving to California, did she have this house built or…?” Elsie was making polite conversation.

“Oh no, this was my grand-father’s house, he built it after the war.” Helen clammed up, suddenly as if a cold ominous breeze whirled through the kitchen.

“Davis never mentioned that. Did he serve in World War II?” Elsie was making conversation again.

“It is actually a very long story; Davis can tell you sometime.” Helen had shut down

completely and was already in the process of placing her teacup in the sink.

“I think I am going to head off, Bruce gets huffy when I get home late.” Elsie

expelled a short laugh and said goodbye.

The Discovery

Davis anticipated another long night and would not be home until almost 8 pm. Annoyed, Elsie decided to work on making room for her newly acquired writing desk. To do so, she needed to move a velvet armchair to the attic. She proceeded to lug the chair up the narrow stairway, feigning bravery against whatever she imagined would jump out at any moment. There were so many boxes lining the webbed room. She sifted through some of them, dusting off an old photo album.

Elsie flipped through the pages identifying some of Davis’ family members. In the back was a large black and white photo of a young man in a military uniform. His face was solemn and stiffed-lipped, almost as if he were unhappy that Elsie found him after being hidden away for all these years.

“That has got to be the grandfather Helen mentioned, what kind of uniform is that though…” Elsie mumbled. A recognizable armband with a swastika was visible. Elsie’s mouth dropped, she had no idea that Davis’ great-grandfather was German, let alone a Nazi. She quickly slid the photo back into the album.

A mouse scurried across, knocking over a few picture frames on the other side of the room. Elsie went over to collect them, in doing so, she found a wooden box peaking from behind a large storage chest. Elsie grabbed the box, curious by what else she might find. She opened the wooden box and inside it she found a little black book.

The Little Black Book

After reading for what felt like hours, the little black book accounted Davis’ great-grandfather’s forced service in the German military beginning in 1941. Elsie found it unnerving that Davis’ family never mentioned his great-grandfather, but assumed they were ashamed that he was a Nazi. Perhaps they did not know that Rudolf, or Rudy, was a highly sought-after Chemist. Elsie had studied German in high school, she decided to select a few entries to try to interpret.

“I must be brief, there are men watching me at all times. I am stationed in Heidelberg; I have been here for a month now. I watch as they bring in people from Berlin and Munich every single day. People who were once neighbors and friends, treated as prisoners and enemies. I could never hurt anyone like this, they force me to be here…”

The writing trailed off as if he were interrupted. Elsie skips to another entry.

“Today I watched as they killed fifty people, fifty. They rounded them up and shot them all. What monsters. I tried to escape last week; I assume that I am worth something to them as they kept me alive after apprehending me. Although I am in their service, they treat me poorly, they know I am not a loyalist, let the world know that they forced my hand. I will try as I might to get out of here.”

It was signed Otto Von Wolff. Elsie skipped ahead to May of 1944.

“Almost all of the military have relocated from this encampment. There are only a few that have stayed behind, and they are talking of leaving in the next few days. This is my chance, if I do not leave now, they will probably kill me like the rest. There is a safe in the supply room, I oversaw the one soldier input the combination from my lab. I just need some money and rations to sustain me while I travel. I plan to go to Berlin to find my mother and we will go as far as we can, away from Germany and the filth it has become.”

There was not another entry until October 1946.

“I made it to America almost two years ago. Winter is near, and I can only thank god I am here to see it. I shot a soldier, I fear I had no choice; he grabbed his gun, and I would have been killed trying to escape. I grabbed what money I could and left for Berlin. I could not find my mother; I fear she has perished in this great war that has forever changed all of us. She would have loved it here in America, she would love my beautiful wife, Mary, a beautiful Irish woman who is so loving and patient with me. Mary is carrying our child now, and as wonderful as that is, I fear the day I must admit my transgressions of the war. I am so ashamed of myself.”

There was one last entry in the little black book, marked August 1947.

“I have met my son and have so many hopes for him. I wish I could look him in the eyes and not feel like a monster. I cannot take it anymore; I sit in this house and just feel so unworthy. I have decided to take my own life. What a cowardice act, but it is all I can think to do. God save them from my sins. The remainder of the money I took from that safe so long ago should be enough to keep this house. My last wish is that I can at least care for my family in this way. I marked the floorboard with an O, please forgive me. My undying love -Otto.”

Elsie gasped and dropped the little black book, which accounted the demise of what was seemingly a moral and unfortunate man. She began to sob uncontrollably.

“I wonder if they ever found any of this.” Elsie had to search for the O. She shuffled around the attic, throwing around boxes in her wake. Back against the wall, under the dirty attic window, she found the O that Otto carved right before his untimely end. She pried open the floorboard, in a cavity underneath, she found something wrapped in Otto’s uniform jacket, although this time the swastika had been ripped off. Inside, Elsie dusted stacks of German currency.

At this very moment, the sound of steps began closing in on her, she turned around and Davis appeared under the attic light.

“What…what are you doing?” Davis inquired.

“This was Otto’s…” Elsie summarized.

“We do not talk about Otto; He was a Nazi, I do know that much, the bastard lucked out and escaped the war. He ran off on my great-grandmother and their newborn baby.”

Elsie winced, for she felt immense pain and sympathy for Otto and his family. For Mary, the lie was less painful than telling the truth.

Months passed, Davis and his family read the entirety of Otto’s account. The money left behind would exchange into what is now $20,000 USD. The family decided to burn Otto’s uniform. They placed a memorial for Otto right off the bike path, where his great-grandchildren used to play. The family used the money to fix up Otto’s home, his temporary refuge from the atrocities of war. Elsie will still go up to the attic when she is feeling lonely, sometimes she even swears she can see Otto’s reflection in the small window looking out.