Overnight the wall of East Berlin was constructed. Crossing most likely meant certain death. Families were ripped apart, separated by the barrier. So many people tried to bolt that towers were built on the wall, and officers were armed with guns and batons to prevent escapes. Everyone was constantly on the lookout for those helping people across. Families turned against families, neighbor against neighbor, and friend against friend. A slip of the tongue and you could be staring into the barrel of a gun. If you betrayed your brother, your stomach would be filled, and your pocket would jingle with gold. 

It was a chilling night in 1979, and I wrapped myself in a thick coat. Atop a tower on the Berlin Wall, I sipped a hot mug of tea and peered out the window watching the night for any signs of movement. The week had gone well. Only one attempt at a crossing had been made, and the participant had been caught and disposed of. The trees whistled in the wind, and the yellow, dry grass quivered. All was in order. Without warning, a radio transmission broke the silence. I raced to the top of the watchtower in search of an enormous blinking light in the midnight sky. The light disappeared and I saw nothing. Yet, the report proved itself the next morning when we saw for ourselves what it was—a mansion of a balloon. It had come down near the Berlin wall, on our side, the East. An escape had been attempted; another would be made. I ordered the men who reported to me to investigate and discover the fugitives before they made another try. 

Some months later, the same blinking light was seen. I hastened to my helicopter, but the light had disappeared. It seemed they, whoever they were, had made it across. I was furious. I had earned medals, risen in status, and represented the governing citizens of East Germany. I could not stand to have people escape. 

The next day I ordered the shooting of a young man who had attempted to cross. I felt no pity. The boy was a criminal. He had asked for it. However, despite my indifference, the young man’s bloody face filled my dreams. I could not stop thinking about it. It could have been my son, or any of my children, lying crumpled there on the earth. 

At first I saw him only in my dreams. Then in the wild schoolboys and the clerk on the corner. Soon I saw him in my subordinate officers. The enemy was everywhere. Then I saw him in the mirror. 

Only years before I had been young and foolish, but innocent. The wall went up, and I had become an officer. I had worked my way to the top by shooting those who tried to cross the wall. I had fished out those who disagreed with the way our half of Germany was run. I was the cause. And now I was questioning whether I still believed in the cause. The cause that had risen in me when I decided the fate of the dissenters and cheered on the deaths of those who tried to work their way to freedom. The cause no longer beckoned; my disgust with myself was growing. 

The repugnance was becoming unbearable. I decided I had to do something. I gazed at my wife and children. It could have been any of them whom I had sentenced to death. Oh! How many I had commanded to be killed! My head collapsed onto my chest as my eyes flooded. For shame! I could not change my position, and if I spoke up or stepped down, I would be killed. My wife, my darling, advised me, “Work with what you have, Axel, use your position for good.” 

“Ah! Mr. Honecker. It is a pleasure to meet you,” I greeted. A cold, drawl smile was my only reply. He was a balding, bespectacled man in a fine suit with a condescending smile. A pocket watch hung from his suit jacket and cuff links glinted when he moved his hands, which was not often. The leader of East Germany was a cold, unforgiving man, from what I could gather, but for some reason, I could tell he liked me. 

Finally, he addressed me. “The pleasure is mine and it is Erich.” He continued, “you must be Mr. Salamo Hans Kasper Finn Axel Schoenfeld. The given being Axel.” I began to respond but the other, after a quick appraisal, cut me off. “Now, to business,” he announced. “I believe that you have succeeded many officers because of your skill at catching criminals.” He gave me a tight smile. “I like that. I was told that Mr. Omar Miran Derex Leon Hamza Gunther, Miran being the given, is one of your most trusted officers. Is this wise?” He continued without pausing, “And, did you know that he has an, ah, unreputable record after abandoning our military?”

“With all due respect sir,” I stammered, “he withdrew after his wife died to care for his three darlings.”

Locking eyes, Erich challenged, “So, as an officer, you think you know your men.” Other men filtered into the room, and we talked of additional business. When the other men had left, Honecker placed a lavishly-wrapped package in my arms. “A cake, from the wife.” A firm handshake, and I was shown to the door.

In spite of my intense desire to help, I had fears, and I confided in my wife. “Honecker sees everything and he reminds us that to turn a blind eye on an escape is death. It was a warning. I do not want to put you in danger. He seems to like me,” I continued, “but I’ve seen enough to know he wouldn’t hesitate to turn me in.”

“You should stay away from him,” she mused thoughtfully. “He has countless men underneath him. You are of little account to a man like him.” She stared off in the distance and then returned with a smile. “It sounds like Honecker is trying to sweeten you up. Let’s have some of that cake.” 

“Eliana. I must keep you and the children safe. I know that hasn’t always been my priority, but now it is. I don’t think going against these powerful men will help at all. It will only put us in danger.” 

“Axel, evil succeeds when good men do nothing. You have made mistakes, as have we all. You are a wonderful man. You can help. Everywhere, there are those fighting this, even if we can’t see them. Brave Axel,” she encouraged as she grasped my hand, “überleben.” Persevere.

“Ich werde kämpfen.” I will fight. I seized the cake from Erich Honecker and dumped it in the trash. 

I was patrolling the wall when an unexpected, traitorous thought entered my head. I knew the shifts, the patrols, the rounds. I set them and chose who would lead surveillance each day and night. I owned a helicopter. I could reconnoiter the schedule so that more distracted men led the watch, and then, when the vigils were being switched and the searchlights were shining elsewhere, I could travel to the West, and in the blink of an eye, return. No one would be the wiser, and I could quench my thirst to do something, to change, to be better.

The following month when I had a day off, I acted. I loaded my family into my helicopter, knowing just when the shift would be inattentive. My youngest, Rainer, fell asleep in my wife’s lap. Rudolph, the eldest, sat with arms tightly crossed in apparent frustration. Berhtram slumped against the side of the plane, brushed his hair into his blue eyes, and pretended to fall asleep. Amina perched in between the boys, trying to attract their attention. I sighed, turned on the engine, and headed west. My last escapade, weeks earlier, to find a place for my family and the people who would come after them, had been terrifying, yet flawless. The man in the West, who had a station of his own, had promised to let my family abide with him until he could have something furnished for them. He, Adalard Hacket, had seemed skeptical of me at first, but did not remain that way for long. Any person who crossed the wall was obviously dedicated to the cause. Anyone who was going back was considered a martyr for it. Thus was I. 

In the West, I greeted Hacket and introduced him to my family. Adalard was an old fellow, though a jolly one at that. His green eyes were filled with a sweet tenderness, reserved especially for children. He had a protruding stomach and a rounded face filled with laugh lines, though perhaps given the darkness of the age, laughter was a more infrequent occasion. Rainer took to him forthwith. In Adalard’s hut there was a bedroom, mess-room, and kitchen. His cabin was set on the edge of a forest. In a clearing, a distance off, a building with sagging roof and wrung hinges was where my family would live henceforth. It had one larger room where mattresses would be stuffed for the new arrivals and another such room for a table. As Adalard explained all this, my mind registered that in the years to come, I might see nothing more than small glimpses of my family. I had taken them for granted. My children even now were like strangers to me. I was caught between wanting to be close to them and wanting to distance myself to do the work that I must do. It was time to go.

I set my hands on Rainer’s cheeks and kissed his head. The lad, wise for his age, nodded at me. His hushed, boyish voice almost made me cry as he whispered, “I love you, father.” 

I smiled slightly. “I love you too, son.” Amina squeezed me tightly. Berhtram stiffened as I embraced him, but did not pull away. He just gazed into the distance. Rudolph’s jaw was clenched. I knew he held a grudge for all the pain I’d brought his siblings, for ignoring them, and for those that I had killed. I spoke timidly, as if to a frightened rabbit, though I was the frightened one. I was terrified that he’d never forgive me, that my children would never be proud to have my name, and that I’d die with my head still hung in shame. I spoke, “Watch over the family.”

He pursed his lips and turned his head. Then with a wry smile, “You know I will.” For that had been his duty since I had strayed. He had had to grow up too fast. He turned and touched my shoulder. “Father, make me proud.” I nodded, and we both knew that he had stretched to do that. He wore his pride like a crown and that simple sentence had torn it down. 

“I will son, I will.” He had not called me father for many years.

He clasped my hand before moving to Amina’s side. I hugged Eliana and kissed her fiercely, then knowing I could not evade the ride to the East forever, I climbed into the helicopter, waved once, and took to the sky.

I arrived at the landing field just as the sun was beginning to stretch over the horizon. I climbed down the few steps and was locking the door when I heard clicking steps behind me. I froze. Those steps could only mean one thing. I had been discovered. “Well, Officer Schoenfeld,” an amused voice sounded behind me. He continued, “it is a pleasure to meet you this morning.” I turned to find my subordinate officer, Callan Williams, leaning against the helicopter.  Dripping with sarcasm, he innocently launched his attack. “Especially as it being so, ah, early, and, if I remember correctly, it being your day off.” I squinted at him, trying to make out what to do. He continued, “You should be with your family. Oh, but I forgot, your family is now visiting your wife’s sister in Poland, is that not right?” 

I grasped at his comment. “Yes, yes, that is right. My family is taking a trip. In . . . Poland. I would have gone, but I couldn’t get away.” 

“Right,” he muttered. “So, do you care to explain why you are here today?”

“I thought I saw another balloon, and came to investigate,” I faltered.

“I see,” he bantered. “So, on your day off, you are over here while your family is visiting relatives. And, when you could have been sleeping in, you are in your helicopter, chasing a balloon, that we both very well know made it over to the other side. And you saw that balloon from where, your apartment?”

I was a caged animal. What was I supposed to do? I had not practiced nor prepared for this sort of situation. Officers of my rank were never seen by the wall on their days off. I needed to absquatulate before I did anything that would make me look more culpable. Looking squarely at him, I confronted him. “Look here Officer Williams. I am above you, as your captain. You should not be talking to me as if I were some rat.”

“You are right,” he agreed. “You are my captain. But if I were you, I would tread lightly. At this point in time, I am the one with the leverage. I know you are bringing people to the East. I know your family is on the other side. I know if I called the officials you would be dead before you could beg for mercy. However, I don’t have that in mind for you.” He took a step toward me and pounced. “My wife and daughter had better be out of here before tomorrow. Across—safe. If they are not out, say goodbye to this world. The war has made me a cruel man and the wall crueler still. I am not the patient, gentle, kind person I once was. If you are discovered with them, and they die, your head will roll. I will personally make sure that your family, be they in the East or the West, are dealt with. You have been warned.” He turned on his heel and called over his shoulder, “They will meet you here tonight, one o’clock sharp.” It seemed he too knew when the watches were not as alert.

I had barely arrived home before I was cornered again. “Mr. Schoenfeld,” he greeted. I opened 

the door and invited the young guest inside. 

“Anton Wagner,” I welcomed. “I should have known.”

“It is I,” he affirmed, taking off his hat. “As you might have supposed, Amina told me where she was going, and if I might, I’d like to ask you to do the same. There is nothing here for me. Please, sir.” He fidgeted, twisting his hat and waited anxiously for my reply.

Gazing into his eager face, I responded, “tonight I leave at one o’clock. I cannot wait. If you are caught, forgive me, but there is nothing I can do. I am courting danger as it is. And Anton,” I beckoned, “Amina would never forgive me if anything happened. Be sure to be there.”

At ten to one I stood in the shadow of my helicopter, hidden from the searchlights, listening to Williams say adieu to his daughter. “Becky, it will be fine. I will see you again, and whisper Hallo Schone to you and you will say Hallo Papa. Becky, darling, don’t cry.”

“Must you go papa? Must you leave me?”

“No, no, Becky, I’m not leaving. Schone, my beauty, Papa won’t leave you. Everything will be alright. Alyiah, Leah, my love, I will see you soon. Axel will protect you. Goodbye.” Anton appeared moments later, and by one o’clock we took to the sky. When we landed, Anton brought Alyiah and Rebecca to old man Adalard’s hut. I never even turned off the ignition. By the time I landed in the East again, Williams was gone.

The next evening was my last day off. I had planned to meet with my old friend, Miran Gunther, whom I had known since we were children. I was so exhausted from the past two nights that I did not even fancy seeing him. Every creek of the apartment’s floor, every car horn, every screech of tires made me jump with fright. Even the sound of the neighbor’s rooster crowing made me start in alarm. My wife had warned me to act normally, and canceling anything with Miran would have been out of the ordinary, so when Miran knocked, I answered.

I had debated about telling Miran what I was up to, but had decided against it. I could not take a chance of being turned in. It had cut too close with Williams, and I was determined to be more cautious. Miran and I sat and talked of our boyish days, of politics, though I tried to touch lightly on that one, and of family. The whole time was torture. I kept jumping at every sound and I could not sit still for long. I dropped the water pitcher, and I kept tuning him out. He finally decided that I was coming down with something, forced me to lie down on the couch, and fixed me some tea before turning out the lights and leaving. I slept.

When I arrived at my office, I called Miran in. Over the night I had changed my mind about telling him. Already, this work was taking a toll on me. I need someone at my back. After going over some business that I had needed to discuss with him, in hushed, urgent tones, I imparted what I had done. As soon as I had finished, he shook his head sorrowfully and then spoke. “Axel, we’ve been friends for as long as I can remember. I’d do anything for you, but I can’t do this. I’m already low on the scale as it is, and I appreciate all you’ve done to help me, but it would mean the end for me and my family. If I get caught, what would happen to the children? I’ve finally earned a bit of respect and paid off the loan on the house, thanks to you. I mean, I know we used to talk about how bad this is for East Germany’s economy, but it’s turned out to be alright. I can’t understand your desperation to take such a risk. Look, I’m sorry. I’ll keep it quiet if I can.” I sat down heavily in my chair, utterly numb. Miran Gunther, the one man I could always put my trust in, and who I could always count on, was gone. And just like that, I was thrown to the wolves. As Miran left, Williams strode in. He shut the door behind him, leaned against the wall in his casual manner, and sighed. “Well, well. That went well.” 

I rolled my eyes, thumped a pile of papers onto my desk, and exhaled slowly. Of course he knew what I had been talking to Miran about.

“Officer Williams. What a . . . pleasant. . . surprise. I can arrange a time to meet with you, but now is not great. I have a lot on my plate.” I stood. “If you’ll excuse me.”

“It’s a date, don’t be late,” he snickered. Williams backed up against the door. He became serious. “Listen. I’d like to apologize for coercing you into bringing my wife and daughter over. I. . . I should have just asked you, but I was afraid you would turn me down. I was desperate to get them out, but I feel compelled to stay. I want to make a difference. If you’ll have me, I would like to join you and your cause in bringing people over. Let me fight with you.” 

 “Are you sure that you really want to do this?” I questioned.

“Yes,” he declared firmly.

“Very well then,” I uttered. “Of course. You may.”

I instantly regretted my decision when he smiled and accurately inferred, “you seem new at this.” I inclined my head. He could be so infuriating. I wished to say, ‘And you’re not?’ but I bit my tongue. With a knowing air, he loftily advised, “So let me help you. For one thing, we should not be seen together more than usual. As our relationship has always been purely business, no one can know that we are on friendly terms.” No problem there, I thought. He cocked an eyebrow, as if he knew exactly what I was thinking, and continued. “Second, if one of us is discovered, the other must remain silent, else we both are brought down together.”

“Williams, I’ll calculate my own risk.”

Brushing my last comment aside, he added, “one more thing. If I am taken, will you. . .” His voice broke. “Will you watch over Alyiah and Becca? I will do the same if. . .”

Before he could finish, I interrupted, “Of course I will, and thank you.” Williams held out his hand, and it took a great amount of resolve to agree to his terms. 

Williams concluded, “then if either of us are captured, we must move on.” We shook. 

“And you know,” he pressed, “that means that if you are on watch, they will look to you to shoot, and you will have to order it.”

“I know,” I whispered, “I know.”

“I take my leave, then.” He turned to go, mentioning, “I will meet you tonight.” 

It seemed that Williams had connections to people who hoped to cross to the West, for when he brushed past me, he slipped a note into my hand that explained that he had gathered people for a trip that same night. My steps were lighter as I finished work for the day. It was good news that I would not have to search for people. I was already known as Honecker’s pawn and the East German’s puppet. No one who yearned to cross would trust me. 

“Williams, thank you, I could not do this without you.” It had surely been serendipitous when Williams had stopped me that day. He smiled at me, and for once, I felt almost content. I would get to see my family. Everything would be alright. We loaded our guests into the helicopter, Williams buckled in beside me, and I shot up into the sky. We alighted quickly and the two dozen or so who rode with us breathed sighs of relief. One began singing, and upon hearing the chorus, our families ran out to greet us. Rebecca, Williams’ daughter, was holding hands with my son, Rainer. They released the other’s hand and each flew toward their father. Alyiah reached her husband next and he hugged them both. Rudolph was in town purchasing food, but the others were all there and it was a short but happy reunion. Berhtram was still slightly distant, but we made peace for the short time I was there. All too soon we had to leave. We had stayed too long as it was. We arrived in the East and clapped each other on the back before parting ways. 

Williams’ and I continued doing this for two years. In all that time there were no unmanageable mishaps. Then one day I was called into Erich Honecker’s office. My palms were sweaty and my face was chalk-white. Though I knew he liked me, I was a beetle under his shoe. He could catch me and put me in a jar, or he could squash me, whichever pleased him more. I was greeted cordially. After a few pleasantries, we caught up on news, and he presented me with a list of my new officers. Then he leaned in close and started fumbling with his hands. “Axel, I need some help.” He glanced around nervously, and then continued, “My wife is sick and we cannot get the medicine that she needs in the East. I know of a lad who can procure the medicine—if he is taken to the West. He needs money to feed his orphaned siblings. Upon his return I will pay him handsomely. You have a helicopter.”

I tried to swallow, but it stuck in my throat, and a cold sweat crept down my back. With clammy hands I struggled to form a sentence. “Sir, I don’t know how you could bring me into this. This puts me in an awkward position. I’m supposed to catch people who are fleeing to the West, not aid them.” My resistance was ephemeral. Despite Honecker’s coldness, I could not bear the thought of anyone else dying because of my own selfishness. I lifted my head, turning my eyes to Honecker’s desperate face. “Very well. I will take the boy tonight.” 

Enroute to my office, I ran into Williams. He assured me that he would have people ready for a trip that night. I had just retreated to my office and settled down at my desk when I heard a call from below: “Officer Schoenfeld! Shall we fire?” I rushed to the deck, and there I saw Williams. Near him a young man crouched. Even though I had never seen the boy before, I knew immediately that he was the boy Honecker had been telling me about. I did not know why the boy was trying to leave through the fence when he knew I was going to take him to the East tonight. I did not know why Williams was protecting him. I did not know, but I had to act.

“Go! Go! Run!” Williams hollered, shielding the young man’s body with his own. Williams directed the boy to a hole in the fence, and at Williams’ beckoning, the young man wriggled through. I froze, thunderstruck. This could not be happening. Williams looked up at me through the crowd and nodded. He seemed to be at peace with his end. My vision blurred.

“Officer Schoenfeld! Can we fire?” 

I raised my arm and chopped the air. “Fire!” There was the clicking of guns into place, the sound of shooting, and Callan Williams slumped to the ground. I was motionless. Officers sprinted from the tower, dragged Williams’ limp body away, and started plastering the whole in the wall. Meanwhile, I was on autopilot. All I could do was put one foot in front of the other. I didn’t even stop to think that this boy would not be on my flight. When Miran ran up to me, I hardly noticed. He looked like he was going to say something, but as a group of other officers strode into the tower, he simply turned and trotted off. It seemed to take hours for it to be dark enough for me to make the journey across. Finally, it was time. 

The people were there, but Williams was not. He had given his life for the boy. I simply showed them to their seats. I could not face anybody in the West that night. When the last passenger had gone, I lifted off and gradually made my way back to the East. 

I landed. Officers surrounded me. They dragged me down the steps. A fist connected with my gut. Next came a baton to the head. The pain wholly consumed me. I greeted the blackness, wallowing in it, sinking into it. . . 

Time stretched thin. I could no longer place one day to the next or one minute from ten. I only knew that I was in pain, that I was pain, and that my body was bruised and battered. I had been submitted to questioning. My fate was set. I almost welcomed the thought of being gone from this world, but I was scared that my sins would doom me to something worse than this. I would never see my family again. I would fail to honor Williams’ wish for protection to his family. In this, came my will to live. I would kampf—I would fight—as I had promised. 

Unnumbered days passed by. I pondered. Who would have turned me in? Then it clicked. Miran. Miran, who had chosen to stay on the safe path, and who was constantly on the lookout for anything that would sully his name. Miran, who had approached me earlier to confess but had lost his nerve. Miran, the priest, who crossed the street and left the dying man on the road. He was not my Samaritan. I sunk back into a stupor as yelling soldiers filled my cell. 

                                                                   🙐🙛

Eliana Becker Schoenfeld: I was terrified about my husband bringing people across the wall, not once, but however many times he could. I told myself he would keep doing it until it lessened the weight of guilt on his chest, but the truth was, he would do it until he died trying or until his identity was discovered. Either way, he would probably not make it out alive. I knew that, but I told myself other things to ease the pain. Despite my worry, I was proud of him for turning things around. This sacrifice had made him better. I busied myself with the cooking and cleaning. Our eldest boy, Rudolph, kept track of the schedule. He knew when his Father would arrive. When Axel did not appear for several days, I asked Rudolph when he would next come. Rudolph just hugged me and told me not to worry. I knew then that he would never come, that he was gone. I shut myself in my room and wept. 

Rudolph Schoenfeld: I admit, I had always held a grudge against Father. He was blind to our needs, caring only for fame and glory. His heart was wholly devoted to his rank, so I took on the responsibility of caring for the family. When he brought us to the West, I did not know what to think. It was hard to believe that he had changed, and in fact, I did not want to believe. My pride held me high and rejected change. Seeing the best in him would be to admit I was wrong about him. Father was scheduled to come two nights in a row. He did not come on the second, and I knew then something was wrong. He had been captured, and I had never forgiven him. Because I had judged him, Raven had also. He would die believing that his very children despised him. It was all my fault. And so it was decided. I would cross. I would save him. 

Amina Maria Elif Schoenfeld: I never really hated Papa. Not like Rudolph and Raven, anyway. I mean, I doubt they hated him, but close to it. As a kid I just tried to not be around the family tons. There was too much emotion. I could not handle all of it put together with my own. In the West, Anton Felix Wagner and I were stuffing mattresses (and throwing straw at each other) when Rudolph told us that Dad had been taken and that Rudolph was going to cross. I ran to comfort Mother. Felix and Rudolph started scheming. 

Berhtram Alwin Yusuf Schoenfeld: Everyone called me Raven—that’s what Berhtram means—and so that’s how I began thinking of myself: free, independent. I was called a ‘mirror of father.’ Now most people would be proud to be called that, but I tell you, I was not. I hated it. We had the same stunning blue eyes, only his eyes were as cold as death itself, and mine were quite the opposite—laughing, mischievous, joyful. We both had raven black hair and quirky, smirking smiles. I did everything I could to distinguish myself from him. When I found out that his favorite color was green, too, I changed mine to black, like raven feathers. I wanted nothing to do with him. You see, the man did many things, some good, some bad. I should have made it up with him though because by the time he was starting to come around, I found out that he had been taken. And everyone knows what that means. It means he’s not coming back.

Rainer Sebastian: I observed a lot of things. I saw how hard Father tried, first to rise to save us and last to die to liberate us. I knew what bit at Rudolph’s heart and how Raven yearned to be different. I noticed how Amina refrained from despising him only by avoiding him. I knew how all of them handled their pain in different ways. Our family was split into so many different pieces. When he started saving people, I thought we could mend, but then he was captured. I did not know what would be our end. 

The Youth who Crossed [Malek Amir Fischer]: I was an only child, orphaned as a boy when both my parents were killed for political reasons. My father had always told me I was a prince, but I felt the farthest from that day when I was captured. The man, Honecker, found me when I was trying to escape. I would be used as bait to figure out who was bringing people to the East. Citizens had been disappearing, and Honecker was determined. I knew that when he had his man, I would be killed. And so when Schoenfeld agreed to take me across, and I glimpsed Honecker’s face, I ran for it. I am thankful that I made it across, but I didn’t mean to bring someone down with me. The man who rescued me was my salvation. I will not disappoint him. 

                                                                  🙝

When I awoke again everything was foggy, as if a dream, but real. I was in heaven, and I was told that I could stay there and rest. It was beautiful. I was happy. I was told I could live there forever. And then I felt pain. The worst pain I have felt. Pain darker than the darkest blackness. Pain, more all-consuming than anything I had ever experienced. I did not think I could live through it. Then it shifted and I felt the peace again, and the happiness. Somehow I knew I could choose. I could stay in heaven, or I could live again where there was pain and corruption. I remembered Williams’ sacrifice, and how he had asked me to take care of his family. I recalled all those who still suffered, in need of rescue. I thought of my own family. I chose to live. 

I became slightly aware of my surroundings and the pain. A familiar face hovered above my own. Strong arms lifted me from my bed of stone. I was carried a little way from my prison before guards started yelling. “In the name of the people of East Germany, I command you to stop! That person is property of East Germany! Halt! Guard, remember your duty!” The man carrying me began to run. Shots were fired into the sky. “Guard, stop or I will shoot!” A ball of lead whipped past my leg, slicing my trousers. Another discharge and the person carrying me staggered, lurching on. A warm liquid bathed my raw skin. From a short distance behind, I heard a commanding voice; one that I recognized. Then I was shoved roughly through a hole in the barbed wire fence. The person who had carried me collapsed on the other side. We lay there facing each other. I stared into the eyes of Miran Gunther, my rescuer. Miran had joined me in my quest for good. He had crossed the highway to save me. A tear traced its way down my cheek. With a click of the hammer, the rushing bullet found its mark. There was a croak. Then, in a labored and constricted voice, Miran whispered, “Axel—für das gute kämpfen” Fight for good. I nodded blindly. Tears streamed down my face. Miran had died to save me. Miran was gone. A dominant figure remained towering above, leering down at my helpless form. 

Erich Honecker had woven a trap, and like a shoe can squish a bug, or a net encase a beetle, I had been captured. He had double-crossed me, using the boy as bait. He had drawn me in by a false sense of security. I had trusted him willingly because of my desperation. How blind I had been. Yet, I was no longer in his net. I had escaped through a hole. I was beyond his reach. Honecker walked away. He had done what he had come to do. He could do no more.

Arms lifted me as if I were no more than a small child. “It is I, Father. Your son, Rudolph.” I remembered my dream. I had chosen a life filled with pain, but it also contained joy. My family was with me. I was not alone. In spite of my weariness, my happiness was solidified by what I recognized as Raven’s voice whispering, “Daddy, Anton found Williams’ in the burn pile in the death strip—the no-man’s land. He was barely alive but he’s gonna make it. He’s back at the house!” 

I smiled. Williams’ and his wit were waiting for me. There was more work to do. We had all found a cause beyond ourselves that made life worth living. I had been lifted. They had lifted me. I would continue to lift others. My musings were cut short when I arrived home in Rudolph’s arms to Williams’ gangly figure and patronizing air. He took one look at me and then burst out laughing in good humor. “So, it looks like we can grow fat and old together!” We looked at each other, enjoying the thought but knowing that we were not through. We would fight for good.