The Plum Tree

by Ellen Marie Wiseman

By appointing Hitler Chancellor of the Reich you have handed over our sacred German fatherland to one of the greatest demagogues of all time. I prophesy to you this evil man will plunge our Reich into the abyss and will inflict immeasurable woe on our nation. Future generations will curse you in your grave for this action. —Former general Erich Ludendorff, in a telegram to President Paul von Hindenburg

Bloom where you’re planted, Oma always said. But Christine’s roots were restless, wondering what it would be like in more fertile soil.

Christine skirted the old and middle-aged women trudging along in front of her, wondering if they could remember the giddy thrill of passion before life had forced them to rush through their days without seeing the world.

If there was one thing she needed to learn, it was to live in the moment.

Christmas was an enduring milestone that came and went, while the world forever changed.

There’s a time for everything, you know. A time for work, a time for play, a time for worry, and a time for rest. Right now, enjoy this time with your family. We never know what tomorrow brings.”

War makes perpetrators of some, criminals of others, and victims of everyone.

Just because a soldier is in the battle, doesn’t mean that he believes in the war.

Tell the world that it is the soldiers on the front lines who are burdened with the fear and guilt of the actual combat, while the guilty men hide in their bunkers and make life-and-death decisions for the world.

Her household was the one thing she could control. Cooking meals, washing dishes, folding laundry, washing windows, scrubbing floors. She could control all of those things, and so she did. She kept busy every minute of every day, performing each job completely and flawlessly, the only way she knew how to deal with her unpredictable life.

“For some who are committing these evil crimes, and for those of us who allow it to happen, the reality of what we are doing is obscured by the furious turnings of war.”

“It will be later, when this war has ended, when we go home, when we sit at the dinner table in our comfortable houses, after we kiss our wives good night, it will be then that we will dread the night. We know what visions will rise from the depths of our guilty minds. It will haunt us until the end of our days, and we’ll surely be spending eternity at Hitler’s side in hell. All of Germany will pay for our sins. You wait and see. Yet brutal actions become war crimes only if you lose.”

“I guess the Lagerkommandant was right,” Christine said, tears running down her face. “Brutal acts only become war crimes if you lose.”

“I understand how awful the middle of the night can be,” she said. “All those horrible memories are bad enough during the day. But at night, I don’t know what happens. It’s like evil forces have free reign when it’s dark. They get inside your head and try to make you crazy. Sometimes I can barely stand it when the memories come. I try to remind myself that the sun will come up in the morning and it will be easier to push those thoughts away. It will be a new day, a new beginning.”

“I think everyone is born with the will to survive. It’s just stronger in some than in others.

So that’s how it happens, she thought. I’ll get distracted by life. The wounds will be covered by pleasant moments, moments that I used to take for granted. Hopefully, the pleasant moments will become more frequent, and longer lasting. Because if I keep living in the past, I won’t survive.

But good can still stand up against evil.