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Back The Radio Operator Save as PDF
Chapters (43)
  1. Cover
  2. 1
  3. 2
  4. 3
  5. 4
  6. 5
  7. 6
  8. 7
  9. 8
  10. 9
  11. 10
  12. 11
  13. 12
  14. 13
  15. 14
  16. 15
  17. 16
  18. 17
  19. 18
  20. 19
  21. 20
  22. 21
  23. 22
  24. 23
  25. 24
  26. 25
  27. 26
  28. 27
  29. 28
  30. 29
  31. 30
  32. 31
  33. 32
  34. 33
  35. 34
  36. 35
  37. 36
  38. 37
  39. Acknowledgments
  40. Bibliography
  41. A Note from the Translator
  42. About the Author
  43. About the Publisher

His question was a prompt to get her to look at him. She pulled her coffee cup closer.

“I always check the newspapers to see how much ol’ Bing is showing his age, and then I compare the two of us.”

“And?”

“So far it’s a tie.” He took his first sip of coffee. He could see that Lauren was looking for something. She tasted the cheesecake, chewed for a long time, swallowed.

It’s my universe,

even with an empty purse.

’Cause I’ve got a pocketful of dreams.

“Sorry,” said Lauren.

“For what?”

“I don’t know. Maybe for getting so quiet all of a sudden.”

“But you don’t have to say anything.” And then he added quietly, “And I don’t either, actually.”

They smiled at each other.

Small, firm breasts. He could see as she stood up and discreetly tucked her blouse into her skirt.

He still didn’t have her phone number. He didn’t want to ask, for the very reason that he liked her.

10

Neuss, July 1949

ON SUNDAY THEY ALL GO TO CHURCH: STAND UP, KNEEL, sit, stand up, sing,

Now thank we all our God,

with heart and hands and voices,

who wondrous things has done

in whom this world rejoices.

“Notice anything?” whispers Carl as the priest holds the host in the air, shows it to the congregation, and gives God the chance to transubstantiate. Josef notices a lot of things, but he doesn’t know what in particular he’s supposed to be looking out for. “The church bells are missing. They donated the metal to the war effort!”

The people are strangers to him. They all wear poorly cut clothes made of old fabric that looks like it would turn to dust if you so much as blew on it. Josef knows that he hardly looks any better, that he, in Carl’s ill-fitting brown suit, is one of them. Only when he opens his mouth does anyone notice the difference.

After mass Josef stands in the church square a bit apart from the rest and smokes. By this point the neighbors nod when they see him. They know who he is, know that they don’t really know. After Carl and Edith have finished shaking hands, they head for the park—the Sunday stroll. All that remains of the benches are the stone bases. The pond is a greenish-black, metallic brew, dusted with pollen. No ducks in sight, probably killed for food.

Despite the desolate look of it all, Carl wants to take a family photo. He managed to hang on to his Linhof Technika all throughout the war; now he places it on the tripod he brought with him, instructs Edith, Josef, and the children to stand in front of the pond, presses the self-timer, and hurries back. “Don’t close your eyes! Look at the camera!” Josef notices that Carl goes up on his tiptoes.