Hope Mending

Julian Barnett had seen no one on the road for the last several miles since leaving home in a quiet town in northeast Pennsylvania, until coming across a very skinny man standing at the side, holding a small bag. As Julian drew closer, he could see the man was almost expressionless, but there was something sad in his blue eyes. His hair was a dark blond, and very unkempt. His cheeks were somewhat hollow, and his clothing hung loosely from his body.

Rolling down the window, Julian called, “Hello, there! Do you need help, sir?”

The man spoke with a thick German accent. “I need a ride, sir. I come from a prisoner-of-war camp. Just past the forest here.”

Julian thought for a moment. He vaguely remembered reading a newspaper article a week ago about the POW camps releasing the inmates, but he had been under the assumption that everyone went back to Germany. I guess this fella wants to stay here. “Where to, then?”

“I do not know. I have nowhere to go.”

“Do you have family?”

The man didn’t respond verbally. He looked off to his left, then down at the ground. His face reddened, and he drew in a breath. He sounded like he was trying not to cry.

Nodding a little, Julian decided not to ask anymore questions. “Hey, buddy, I’m driving down to North Carolina to visit family. I can take you with me if you want. I just can’t make any major detours, OK?”

“I will not make trouble, sir. I promise.”

As he placed the man’s satchel in the back seat of his vehicle, Julian thought about the letters his brother and cousins had sent from France and Belgium and Germany throughout the war. They hated the Germans. Vehemently hated them, especially after the discovery of the death camps. If I show up to the reunion with this guy, they’ll probably beat him to death, Julian thought. He glanced over at his new passenger. “Just to let you know,” he said, “much of my family just got back from Europe, and they . . . won’t like you very much.”

“Because of what happened over there. I understand.”

Julian waited for the man to continue, but when he didn’t, Julian took a breath before saying, “When were you brought here?”

“Late 1942. I was captured in North Africa and transported here with hundreds of my fellow countrymen. I was not sure what to expect. To be honest, I thought I would not survive to the end of the war, but you are a very friendly people. I did not expect opportunities to work here.”

“I had read in some of the papers here that POWs worked on farms in this area.”

“Yes. I worked on one with a very nice couple. Until they learned about the death camps in Europe. Without warning, I was told to leave the farm and never come back. I was not sure why until I learned what had transpired. I did not know what happened, or how extensive the killings were. Nobody talked about it. At least, not in my division. I was a rifleman, conscripted at eighteen, and naïve.” The man looked down at his lap, then back out the windshield, looking distant and lost. “I thought things were simple. Nothing is simple.”

Julian didn’t respond at first, and kept glancing at the man, expecting him to keep talking. Every time he looked, he saw a deepening sadness, loneliness, and embarrassment. “What’s your name, buddy?”

“My name?”

“Yeah.”

The man was quiet for a moment, looking deep in thought. “Armin Plesner. What is yours?”

“Julian Barnett.” Grinning, Julian added, “Mother always said knowing a name doesn’t make you a stranger anymore.”

“Logically, you are still a stranger to me, and I am still a stranger to you. For all you know, I am a spy.”

“I don’t think you’re a spy. For one thing, the war’s over, and I’m not exactly a good person to spy on. I wasn’t able to enlist or be drafted because I suffered an injury a few years ago that resulted in a bad limp, and it’s not like my brothers or cousins could talk about what they were doing.” Julian shrugged. “Torture me all you want. I know nothing.”

“I still find it strange you trust me, and offered help.”

“I don’t turn down someone who needs help. Clearly, you need help, especially if you’re out of a job, and you’re in a foreign country with nothing. I’m not dumping you on the side of the road just because you’re German.”

Armin nodded a little, but didn’t continue the conversation.

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Over an hour went by without discussion of anything. Julian glanced over every so often to see Armin staring out the window, arms folded over his chest. There were tiny wet patches on his pant legs and sleeves that weren’t there when he first entered the car.

He’s been crying, Julian thought. There’s something he’s not telling me. Surely, he’s got to have family back in Germany. They must miss him. I know Mother would miss Gregory if he dropped everything and stayed in Europe. Taking a breath, Julian said, “Where is your family?”

“Dead,” Armin replied, emotionlessly.

A pang of sympathy dug into Julian’s heart like a spear. “I . . . I’m sorry.”

“You are not at fault, Mr. Barnett. I did not lose everyone all at once. My two brothers were unfortunate enough to be sent to the Eastern Front. My father got in trouble with the Gestapo for something he did not do. I do not know what happened to my mother, but considered we lived in the eastern part of Germany, I would not be surprised if she was murdered by Soviet troops. Considering I have not heard from her in two months, that is my guess.”

All his life, Julian had been told to count his blessings and never take them for granted. He vaguely remembered saying, as a teenager, that he wasn’t sure what being blessed felt like, followed by his father saying, “You’ll know when you feel blessed.” Now he knew. It wasn’t a feeling he could describe in words, other than thinking to himself, I’m glad I still have my family, because I can’t imagine being in Armin’s position. He didn’t want to think about what it was like to lose everything, and everyone. Armin was truly alone.

“Do not burden yourself with me, though,” Armin said.

“Too late. You need help, and you’re alone. I’m going to help you. Don’t ask why. Don’t tell me you don’t need it or don’t deserve it.”

“I have done nothing for you, though.”

Julian shrugged. “So? This is my way of showing you compassion.”

 “Even when my own people—”

“You are not responsible for all those deaths. You, personally, did not kill anyone in those camps. You’re never going to start a new life for yourself if you get trapped in guilt, especially guilt for something you didn’t do.”

Armin was quiet again, and Julian bit his tongue, fearing he had been too harsh. There was an uncomfortable silence for a long while, as the sun began sinking lower into the western horizon, casting longer and longer shadows into the car. Soon, Julian’s thoughts turned to finding a place to stay for the night, but when he settled on going into the next town he saw, his thoughts immediately returned to regret, wondering if he had upset Armin.

The long, lonely road became less lonely when big Victorian houses and farms appeared on either side as Julian drew nearer to a small town he had never heard of until seeing a worn sign several miles back. There were also signs saying “welcome home” to returning servicemen and women. There were also homes with gold stars in their front windows. Julian didn’t think it was possible to see happiness and grief displayed at the same time. Much like earlier, he felt lucky to have gotten his brother and cousins back.

Armin was looking at the signs and stars as well. “What do your stars mean?” he asked.

“The gold ones? Those . . .” Julian took a breath, “Those mean that you lost a relative in the military.” He made eye contact with Armin when they came to an intersection. “And it’s not your fault.”

Nodding, Armin went back to looking down at his lap. “Can you help me? Help me . . . not feel guilty. Not feel . . . worthless.”

“I’ll try, you can bet on that,” Julian replied. He had spent all his life around people who were happy and successful. Some snags were hit, especially during the Great Depression over ten years ago, but he couldn’t recall any of his friends or family ever saying they felt worthless. Everyone was dead-set on perseverance, no matter what.

He knew he couldn’t just tell Armin to keep going. After all, how? How to keep going? That question stuck with Julian as he checked into a motel for the night. It replayed in his mind, over and over, as he showered, shaved, and got ready for bed.

Silence fell over the motel as the sun set completely below the horizon. Julian had been switching his gaze between the window and the wall separating his room from Armin’s. He hadn’t heard a sound other than running water, and he found himself hoping the young German was alright.

Maybe there’s no set means of “how” to keep going, Julian thought. If there’s one thing he needs, it’s definitely a friend. He needs a job and a place to live, yeah, but he shouldn’t have to go through this alone.

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The last dew of the summer covered the grass when morning light began inching over the eastern horizon. Julian had slept well the previous night, and the first thought on his mind was that he would get to North Carolina by that afternoon—

And his companion in the other room.

Julian swore under his breath. Though, he admitted to himself, that meeting Armin did feel a little like a dream. Still, how could he forget that?

After getting dressed, Julian gathered his belongings and left his room, stepping out onto a small balcony overlooking the parking lot and the quaint houses and old church steeples of the town. The sky was a rich red-orange, with pink clouds scattered about. Armin was sitting in an aging rocking chair, staring ahead.

“Good morning,” Julian said. “How are you, son?”

“I thought yesterday was a dream,” Armin replied. “But I asked myself, how did I end up here? Was I drunk? I do not feel hungover. If anything, I feel . . . hungry.”

“They’ve got breakfast downstairs. I’d certainly like a cup of coffee before we head out.”

Armin nodded, looking unsure of what to say next. “What are you going to do with me when we see your family? You mentioned they were in Europe, and would not like me.”

Julian put his hands in his pockets, pacing the balcony and thinking. “Well, I think it would be good for you to meet people and be less alone, but I don’t want to upset my brother and cousins. They watched a lot of people die at German hands, and even though it wasn’t you, specifically, I don’t think they’d want to meet you without wanting to beat the crap out of you. You can wander around town if you want. I’ll give you some money.”

“You trust me that much?”

“I think it’s a good way to helping you start to heal if someone trusts you.” Julian shrugged. “We’re not at war anymore.”

“I do not want to abuse that trust.”

“I don’t think you will.” Have faith. That’s all. Letting him feel comfortable is a small step that’ll go a long way.

Armin opened his mouth. Julian felt like he was going to try and argue, but when Armin released his breath and went back to staring at the sunrise, Julian gently touched his shoulder.

“I trust you, alright?”

Again, Armin looked like he was at a loss for words, but finally, he said, “I will not make you regret that.”

Smiling, Julian gave Armin’s shoulder a squeeze. “That’s all I ask.” He looked over at the sunrise, the vibrant colors beginning to fade into blue. “Alright, we better head downstairs. We still have several hours of driving ahead of us.”

“At least there are things to see here,” Armin said, standing up. “In North Africa, there is nothing but sand and rock. To see grass and trees is a relief. It feels less lonely and repetitive.”

“When you’ve been traveling between states like I have every year, it will start to feel repetitive.”

“Perhaps to you. I take joy in the simple things. That I learned from . . . from in the camp.”

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Julian took comfort in the fact that Armin was a little more talkative during the long and uneventful drive down through the heart of Virginia, but the sadness and guilt could still be heard in his voice at times. He didn’t like talking about life in Germany, but he was open about his experience in the POW camp.

“The commander was thorough when we were processed in. My group was fairly small, but we had traveled all day and late into the night. Everyone was tired, and we were all afraid, because we were thousands of miles away from home. Several of them, including myself, spent hours crying, wanting to go home. Homesickness was painful. I felt like throwing up every time I thought about home. It took several months before I felt . . . nothing. When I started working and developing hobbies, I started to feel . . .” Armin trailed off. “Not happy, but . . .”

“Like you had a purpose.”

“Yes. Purpose. That is what I need now.”

“What were your hobbies?”

“I grew vegetables. There was plenty of space for us to garden, and I had my own little plot to grow whatever I wanted. Carrots, potatoes, onions, garlic. I also took an interest in learning English about a year after arriving at the camp.”

“You speak it very well. I think I should’ve told you that yesterday.”

“Thank you.”

“What else did you do?”

“I helped raise rabbits at the farm. It was something I had done back in Germany, with my father. They are such fascinating animals, rabbits.”

“Is it something you want to continue doing?”

“If I could, yes.”

“Well, you’re in luck. They always have rabbits at the county fair near where I live. That starts next week. I’d be happy to take you there.”

Armin was quiet for a long moment. “Why are you so kind, Mr. Barnett?”

“That’s how I was raised, but it’s not like it’s too late for you to learn. Then again, I think you already know how to be kind.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You’re terrified of hurting people, so terrified that you’re blaming yourself for things you didn’t do. It’s good to be gentle, but you also have to learn how to be tough, so you can stand up for yourself. I don’t think you want to become a punching bag for people.”

“I do not. I need . . . balance, then.”

Julian nodded. “Balance isn’t going to be easy to achieve. You’re human, like all of us, but you’re fully capable of learning and doing your best to achieve that.”

“And, you think I can achieve balance.”

“I do.”

“What if I don’t?”

“We’ll still be friends. That’s the most important part. I know I’ve said this before, but you won’t be going through this alone.”

Julian expected Armin to retreat into himself again, but instead, Armin managed to smile at him. He was smiling through tears, and Julian couldn’t tell if they were tears of relief or remnants of grief. His problems hadn’t been cured. No, he had a long way to go, Julian could feel, but at least Armin wouldn’t be alone, and he had now had hope for a successful life.