Play@YSDC

Hopefully this will be hidden

Again Artemis glanced at the Hamilton wrist watch while eating his sauerbraten lunch. It was comfort food and a salve to his frustration with having to just wait. He sipped the cool,sweet Auslese that happened to be from a small village near his Uncle's estate. He took another bite while checking his watch. The Gasthof he was eating at was near the boarding dock for the S.S. Hamburg of the Hamburg-Amerika line, but a crew delay dashed his hopes of boarding early.
Danzig was not what he expected; in fact none of Germany had been, other than his Uncle's estate. When the chance was offered arose to travel to Germany as part of Goodyear's delegation, he jumped at the opportunity to tour the Luftschiffbau-Zeppelin factory and see the newest airship under construction. The delegation would be part of the American business attendees at the Olympic summer games in Berlin. It was too good of an opportunity and he even agreed to pay for his return trip if he could spend an additional week in Germany on "family business." There were a few raised eye brows, but when he explained that his great uncle was a former Baron and German officer in a WWI balloon corps, the Company agreed to his suggestion.
They had traveled by ocean liner to Le Havre and then by train to the Zeppelin factory. The hangars were massive. The Hindenburg was much larger than the familiar Los Angeles. The Hindenburg class was the newest line of Luftschiffbau Zeppelin's airships. The keel to the Graf Zeppelin II had been laid prior to their arrival and duraluminium rings were rising into place. Everything was larger than life - the hangars, the coordination of the workers, and the airships themselves. The delegation had the privilege to ride to Berlin aboard the Hindenburg. They debarked outside of Berlin prior to the Olympic opening ceremonies.
He shook his head as he ate. Opening ceremonies were more like a glorified worship session of the Reichschancellor-Fuhrer Adolf Hitler by those fortunate enough to obtain tickets to the precisely controlled ceremony with its torch lighting ceremony. The new ceremony was the culmination of a relay involving thousands of runners carrying the Krupp made torches from Greece to Berlin. Every aspect of the games were controlled, but for the competitions themselves, by the German government and Hitler's Nazi party. The releasing of hundreds of pigeons that were the fired upon by the cannons sent a shiver down Artemis’ spine. He reached for the Auslese to chase the bad taste from his mouth. His fork speared the mound of butter covered spaetzel. Two bites later and his mind was back in Philadelphia, before the war, in the brownstone near the corner of Brandywine and North 37th Street.
“Arty, esst du, liebchen,” his mother’s language was that of her birth, common amongst the adults in the neighborhood. Artemis memory was when his mother was young and full of light, something that vanished when his father had died of the Spanish flu ten years later. She slid him a plate of spaetzel slathered in butter with a touch of nutmeg. He loved her spaetzel, none of the other mothers made it like she did. Nor did this Gasthof, but it was close. The area under the table was his and his sister's fortress, where brightly colored tin wind-up toys, books and such could be played out of their mother's way. Yet, they could peek out and see what she was doing in the kitchen. He smiled as his memories took him back to a time of simple pleasures, child's play, and a mother's treat.

His mother died five years ago. His was married now, raising children, and living in Bryn Mawr. They saw each other once a month with him bringing wine, flowers, and small candies to his niece and nephew. But for his Uncle Willi, they were the only family he had.
On this trip, he visited the Isenberg. The place was a combination of imagination, fantasy and recollection after years of stories by his parents. Uncle Willy was his mother's great uncle, the younger brother of her father and a fifth cousin of his father. So his visit was the fulfillment of a dream. The keep was built in the 1300s atop a small knoll a few miles from the train station. It was east of Frankfurt, with the train stop outside a small village made famous by the Brothers Grimm whose father had served there as a government official. A remarkable vehicle was waiting for him, and the ride brought him into the keep's courtyard. There waiting for him was his Uncle Willi with the stance of an officer and gentlemen of the Landgrave's court despite being eighty-two. The two greeted each other with hugs and slaps on the back. Artemis had only a few short days to spend there, but it was the best four days of the entire trip. His eyes still watered when he recalled the salute he had received from his Uncle when he left for the rail station.
His trip to Danzig was via Berlin with a change of trains in the Hauptbahnhof Anhalter. He had a small amount of time to walk about the station's platform and marvel at the aerodynamic design of the steam engine pulling the lavish train cars. He wasn't certain that his seat was for what he had purchased, or whether his Uncle's connections had something to do with his luxurious accommodations. He read the newspapers, watched the scenery pass by, ate in the beautiful dining car, and chatted with various travelers in the observation car. Eighteen hours later, with a stop in Poznan, he arrived in Gdansk or Danzig as learned it. A porter helped him find a driver to take him to the Gasthof where he had spent the past two nights waiting to board the ship back to New York.

He had walked the City's streets and the red banners with the black swastikas were everywhere; nearly as prevalent as the uniformed police. The few times he was stopped his passport combined with his German managed to get waived along. Yet, this world port was not the free city that he recalled reading about in college. It was obvious that the League's ability to ensure Danzig's citizens their freedom against the press of Hitler's allies was collapsing. He saw anti-Semitic graffiti whitewashed on buildings, police constantly demanding papers from citizens, and beatings of those who were slow to comply.

He finished his meal, set his silverware on the beautifully enameled plate, and paid his bill ensuring a fair tip was included. After settling his lodging bill, the proprietor kindly agreed to let him leave his trunks there until he could board the steam liner. He looked at his wristwatch and then walked to the terminal building.
The old building was filled with people and he approached one of the booths for the Hamburg-Amerika lines. He was told that he would have another hour or so before he could board, but was given the four thick labels to mark his trunks. He had to pay for the additional luggage, but didn't hesitate. Artemis took the time to fill out the tags and then turned to walk back to the Gasthof to find a driver to bring him and his trunks back. However, in amongst the swarm of people, he had gotten turned about and found himself near boarding lines for the steerage passengers. He stood back watching the lines of people clutching their carpet or leather bags. He could hear conversations in German, Polish, Yiddish, and other languages all nervous, all excited. His study of the lines was broken by a wailing off to his right where the line was nearing the gang plank into the waiting ship. He shuffled amongst the people not in line and found a place where he could see the source for the wailing, sobbing and shouting.
He leaned against a closed counter watching the scene unfold. A very elderly man was pulling against the two young men holding him back. They wore uniforms that were too crisp, too clean, and too new. A third man, heavy set, uniformed, and wearing a swastika on his left arm, shouted at the elderly man. His younger family members were trying to explain and translate what the elder saying. Artemis watched and when one of the uniformed officers glanced his way, he looked down and acted like he was reading the travel notice posted at the counter. He shifted along to another vantage point to continue watching what was happening. The heavy set official had in his hands a well decorated, tasseled velvet bundle with two gold tipped finales. In a continued mixture of shouting mixing orders and insults, the official shouted that he was confiscating the item as an antique subject to customs inspection.
When the old man began wailing in protest, one of the younger men punched him in the stomach and let him fall to the ground. The younger woman screamed and rushed to the elderly man crumpled on the wooden decking of the docks. The other young man ordered them all to proceed into the ship. When the woman, the elderly man, and a younger man started gathering their possessions strewn about on various tables, the officials began shouting in German for them to hurry up and quite delaying. One of the officials raised a polished night stick threatening to beat the travelers if they did not hurry along. Artemis could feel his stomach turn. He looked away only to catch the other official assessing the velvet bundle with its gold embroidery and gold threaded tassels. With obvious disdain, the man took the bundle and tossed it into an open trunk that was filled with silverware, gold and silver candelabra, and menorah. The bundle filled the trunk, and the man slammed the lid down and shouted for a porter to remove it and a few others.
Artemis' jaw clenched. A young man with a dolly loaded up the closed trunk and three others. He moved back into the flow of the people and followed the porter from a distance. When the porter had made a series of turns and moved further and further away from the steam liner, Artemis' mind raced as he started to develop a plan. The young porter shimmied the stack of trunks next to a dozen other plain metal grey trunks. The porter then hurried back he way he had come. Artemis waited until the porter was long gone and looked about. Seeing no other officials, he moved towards the stack of trunks and leaned against the four that had just been discarded. He scanned the crowds looking for someone wearing the livery of the Hamburg line.
His eyes caught a 20 something man with black, curly hair and a thick moustache rushing towards the docks, and frantically trying to tie a dark work apron about himself. Artemis smiled.

"Hey, you there. Can you help me?" Artemis used English as it was not as common a language in this part of the terminal. A few folks looked up at him, including the rushing porter. "Yes, you there in the apron, can you help me with these, I seem to have gotten lost."

The man stopped, scowled, and rolled his eyes. "Sir, I am Markos, how can I help you?" Markos spoke English with a thick accent that seemed to oddly mix Slavic and German tones.

Artemis shifted his walking stick to his left hand and extended his right hand . The act noticeably surprised Markos who tentatively took the hand and shook it. "Artemis Richter, traveling home to America and somehow the young lad with the dolly got called away leaving me here with these four trunks. See here are my tags, and my ticket for the Hamburg, but they keep delaying when I can get aboard. Not sure this is how first class should be treated, but I am rather new to this whole travel abroad."

Markos glanced at the papers, but really focused his dark brown eyes on Artemis and then on the trunks he was leaning against. Markos straightened himself and looked about, then leaned closer towards Artemis. "Sir, are you sure these are your trunks? They seem to be very similar to these others?"

Artemis fished his ticket back into his inner jacket pocket and at the same time pulled out a set Reichmarks he had not exchanged for the local currency. He palmed them to Markos, "Oh, I am certain that my papers are in order for these trunks, you would agree, yes? I will be thanking the Purser for your help when I get settled."
Markos smiled as he deftly took the four bills. "Yes, all seems in order, I could get these aboard. Of course, you must explain mebeing late, yes?" Markos winked. Artemis smiled in agreement.
"Good, good, now let me find dolly." Markos stepped into an unmarked door, returning in a few short moments with a large wood and steel dolly. They quickly worked the stack of four trunks onto the dolly and found a ramp slanting upwards to a different section of the terminal. Markos expertly handled the dolly while Artemis managed to walk along clearing space in the crowd with the tapping of his walking stick and strategically placing it to open a path. Artemis had lost track of where they were in the terminal, but finally they came to a mound of trunks off all types being loaded onto slide that slipped them into the ship’s hold.
Markos waived at another man, who had frowned when he saw the two with the trunks. In harsh tones, the other man started asking questions and Markos answered politely pointing at Richter. Artemis caught "American" a few times, and then smiled and spoke up. "I grabbed Markos to help me, got lost in the crowds, and then the young boy I had paid to help me ran off. Markos was so helpful, truly cannot wait to tell the Captain at dinner how helpful he and his friends here have been." The other man's mouth dropped opened and he didn’t say anything else.
"They are tagged and such, if they could be taken to my room, or be where I could call for them when I board that would be wonderful." Artemis pulled a silver five mark coin from his pocket and handed it to the speechless man. "For your time and troubles, I know his being gone could be a problem, but I hope this will help, and then the good word to the Captain of course." The man nodded and sheepishly smiled as the coin vanished.

"Now, Markos, please show me back to where I am supposed to be, that would be fine right?" The other man nodded in uncertain agreement as Markos quickly took Richter's right hand and steered him back into the crowds. Artemis looked over his shoulder and saw two of the trunks traveling down into the ship. "Markos, I need to find the Purser's office, as I seem to have dropped my luggage tags somewhere and I cannot find them. Could you be so kind as to help me?"
"But of course, Markos can easily help you. You must explain me helping you, but easy for you, yes?" The man's English was good, but the accent was terrible. His delight in participating in some type of ruse, however, was easy for Artemis to read. Laughing, the two eventually found their way back to the street.
When Artemis left the Purser's Office, he had four new tags for his actual trunks and permission to have Markos await his return. Artemis flagged down a driver and rattled off the name of the Gasthof where his luggage awaited. When he arrived there, he claimed his four trunks. With the driver, they quickly loaded them into the vehicle. Rushing back to the terminal, they found Markos was leaning against the building, smoking a cigarette, and scanning the crowd. He smiled as he put out the cigarette, slipping the unsmoked portion into his apron pocket. The three unloaded the new trunk, tagged them, and Markos deftly worked between the throng of people. Artemis gave another silver coin to the driver, thanked him, and then rushed after Markos. With purpose, the two repeated their earlier dance amongst the crowds, but this time they arrived in a set of posh corridors and halls. When they got to a uniformed customs agent, Artemis addressed the man in German explaining how he had pressed the poor man with his bags into service. He continued to explain his being on traveling for Goodyear and without any servants. The customs agent rolled his eyes, glanced at Artemis' passport, tickets, and luggage with an uncaring shrug. Markos nodded at one of the porters, and Artemis' trunks were making their way into the ship.
A few days later, Artemis set about trying to find Markos. Artemis had to ask two different people, but the second nodded and assured him that Markos would soon find him in the observation galley.

"Mister Richter, you called for Markos?"

Artemis turned and smiled. "Oh Markos, thank you, the Captain has heard me talk of how helpful you have been, I just didn't know who to call. I need my trunks, well if I could walk with you, I can explain my concerns."
The other passengers had followed the conversation and then shrugged disinterested and returned to their distractions of cards, gossip, and cigars. As they walked the corridors, Artemis explained his plan. Markos' face broke out in a wide, bright smile. Many times along the corridors, Markos had to explain to anyone curious why Artemis was with him in those corridors.
While Artemis waited in a seemingly deserted corridor, Markos found the four trunks. Markos led with a dolly their way into steerage’s common areas which was filled with masses huddled in large groups. Artemis looked at the various crowds of people. Not seeing who he wanted to find, he continued to move about until he saw the elderly man and his family. The old man's face was ashen, his eyes red from continual crying, and body hunched over. Artemis approached with Markos wheeling the four identical metal trunks behind him.
Artemis addressed the older man in German, quietly, "Herrn Rabbi, ich heisse Artemis Richter ...there seems to have been a mix up in bags, I cannot explain it, but somehow these four trunks were labeled as mine. Yet, I think they belong to you?" The old man looked puzzled and confused. Markos and Artemis pulled down the top trunk, having ensured that it was the trunk Artemis wanted on top, and placed it before the old man. The old man's hands shook as he worked the latches and lifted the trunk's lid with a great deal of apprehension. Then his eyes went wide and a squeal of delight emitted from the man's sore and hoarse throat. He started speaking and his voice started to attract others about him. When the old man pulled the Torah scroll from the trunk, the small group gathered sharing his delight.

"I hope that I have found the rightful owners of these, Rabbi?" Artemis asked with a grin. The old man, now bounding with joy, started talking quickly. Artemis simply smiled, shook his head in disagreement, and responded, "Crime never pays when committed against one of God's own." It took some time, but eventually Markos led Artemis back to his own room and his own trunks filled with family relics, books, and antiques. The S.S. Hamburg cut through the cold, dark waters of the North Atlantic.