Berlin Wolf Read Online Free Page B

were approaching the more densely built-up part of the river. He knew at some point he would have to brave the streets.
    He tried to guess the time, estimating that it was somewhere between eleven and midnight. At some stage he hoped to hear the chime of one of the many clocks on public buildings or even to see the face of a clock. At least when he got home he could retrieve his wristwatch. He had cursed himself when he had earlier realised he had left it behind. Why hadn’t he listened to Papa? All the times he had chastised him for arriving home late for the evening meal when Peter’s excuse was always the same – he had forgotten to wear his watch. He could easily spend hours with Wolfi in Grünewald and on Schlachtensee shutting out the outside world, losing all track of time. Often it was the realisation that he was hungry that made him return.
    Now he was free of any restraints as to where he went, what he did and when he returned, Peter yearned to be chastised by Papa once more.
    â€˜Ah well, let’s just get home first,’ Peter sighed.
    His thoughts abruptly returned to their current predicament. A distant rumble like approaching thunder was getting closer and closer. Then the air raid siren started wailing and the bombs began to fall. The explosions were still some way from them. Wolfi cowered with fear nonetheless.
    â€˜If only you were a gun dog,’ Peter said, only half in joke.
    Wolfi, fearless in nearly all situations had, like many civilians, not overcome his terror of the air raids. Peter knelt down and began scratching Wolfi’s ears. Usually both dog and boy would hide under the oak table in the drawing room. Papa had often found them there, comforting each other. Here they were in the open air some distance from home with only a few sparse bushes for shelter.
    Peter knew that, frightening though it may be, this was their best opportunity to cover a large distance quickly. The only persons on the streets would be the anti-aircraft battalions, the air raid wardens and fire-fighters trying to limit the damage. None of them would have the time or the desire to concern themselves with a boy and a dog.
    â€˜I’m sorry boy, we must go,’ he whispered in Wolfi’s ear. Peter got up and began walking briskly.Wolfi did not move. He was still trembling. Tugging the lead harder, Peter moved off. Wolfi took a few hesitant steps. He was shaking uncontrollably.
    â€˜We have to go boy,’ Peter urged.
    He knew the air raid shelter was not safe for them. He bent down and stroked Wolfi’s large fluffy ears whilst whispering words of comfort at the same time.
    â€˜There boy, it will be all right. Those bombs will save us one day.’
    Little comforted, Wolfi licked Peter’s face and began to walk. Within an hour they had travelled a distance of almost six kilometres. For the most part they were able to take the most direct route, always keeping the river in view. Everywhere there was the chaotic noise of sirens and the sound of bombs falling. Usually these raids were over quite quickly. This one seemed more prolonged. For once Peter welcomed the raid, even though it terrified Wolfi. By now they had reached the suburbs of Wilmersdorf. It was an area Peter knew well. He had once gone to school there. They could take a more direct route, temporarily leaving the river behind. Soon they rounded the corner into Kleiststrasse, in the borough of Zehlendorf and Peter’s pace quickened.
    â€˜Almost home,’ he thought. At the speed they were travelling they might make it within the next hour.
    * * *

    It was the sound of buildings on fire and collapsing timbers that Peter noticed at first. Then the calls of rescue workers digging amongst rubble adjacent to the same building, as volunteer fire-fighters sought to put out the flames. A soldier in the grey uniform of the Wehrmacht was barking orders. Turning to retrace their steps, Peter heard a shout from