Underground Forever

 

His father killed him. Some might argue his father saved him but the fact remains, his father killed him.

 

At the time, the judicial system and media debated whether the murder was ‘morally correct’ or ‘of the first degree’. No matter anyone’s stance or the particulars of their argument, the outcome was still the same. Inside Berlin Metro on 22nd December 1949, Gotlib Schroder killed his only remaining son, Henrik Gotlib Schroder. 

 

The case had gone on to be the basis of many intellectual conversations at dinner parties from New York to Delhi; lengthy debates around how important a single human cog should be within the larger wheel of life and to what degree should one person be able to influence his environment? It has become the focal point for numerous studies including psychology dissertations through to legal cases played out in universities across the globe. Lately it has become a common question put to would-be politicians.

 

Yet rarely do we get to hear the full story from those who were present. Now for the first time, Brett Glacier, Senior European Correspondent for the San Francisco Gazette has pulled together key testaments from the recently released files from the German government, media and police records. The startling account below allows you to appreciate the situation ‘from the inside’ and who knows, may possibly change your response the next time it comes up at one of ‘those’ dinner parties.

 

December 22nd had progressed without incident for Henrik Schroder, at least until he began his commute home. You could argue that the day had been indeed dull; however for Henrik the humdrum period covering the 8 hours up to 5.30pm, setting typing blocks at the Berlin Press was no less than enjoyable. Calm, methodical and ultimately providing security for his family would be how, if challenged, his subconscious mind would justify the conclusion that his job was enjoyable.

 

So Another shift had ended and, after an exchange of routine goodbyes with Mr Muller and Mrs Reiter, he followed his daily routine of meeting with his reflection to ensure that his hat, scarf and outer jacket sufficiently reflected his orderly self. Out into the December snow he went.

 

His wife, Breeda Schroder, had asked him to stop off on Berlin Road to pick up the wooden horse they had selected for their sons Christmas present. At five years old, this was the first Christmas their son had formed enough memory to connect the fact that the last one had reaped chocolates, candies and toys, and therefore the first Christmas that he was truly excited about. Dutifully, Henrik had collected the horse and had then spent an extra half-hour selecting a perfume.  Money was tight and they had promised not to buy presents for one another but with the year Breeda had had, Henrik felt the present represented much more than a Christmas gift. He hoped it would introduce a smile that would be more than fleeting. He almost prayed the perfume had magical powers. Able to ‘move Breeda on’; that the fragrance would overpower the lingering smell of what the war had done to her family, her scarred conscience and deep down in the inner coils of his selfishness, his own unhappiness.

 

To keep the surprise and their routine undented, Henrik was almost jogging back to the underground in order to make up the time lost listening to the sales assistants list the ingredients behind each perfume. He slid between the rush-hour crowds, fattened through the addition of the last minute Christmas shoppers and skilfully manoeuvred his way through the barriers. As he skipped down to the bottom of the escalator he could determine through the arch at the bottom that there was a train at the platform. As there were no passengers outside he realized it must have been about to leave.

Most unlike Henrik, he had burst into a mad dash determined to make it through the open doors. Witnesses seemed to record slightly differing versions of what happened next, however the majority of them were in agreement that the man sprinting towards the doors had dropped a large box he was carrying at arm’s length in front of him and subsequently tripped over it. He had skidded across the platform, spinning 180 degrees on the ground, just as the doors closed and the train driver had pulled out of neutral. A few passengers standing right next to the door, one of whom was later inconsolable that he hadn’t jarred the doors open, stated that the man then continued his slide backwards towards them and the train, face down to the platform before disappearing out of vision somewhere under the doors. The train driver recorded that the train struggled to move out of gear one and that, combined with a loud scream, had made him instinctively “hit the brakes” and stop the train.

 

In moments like this, witnesses normally detail that the ensuing silence ‘felt like it lasted about a minute’, however Guntar Muller, a leading reporter on the Berlin Star, wrote that several witnesses stated the silence lasted approximately five seconds before it was cracked by the scream of a woman, synchronised with a cry for help, both uncannily starting and both ending at the same precisely the same moment.

More people were now arriving at the platform, and the scene they met was both unfamiliar and horrendous. There trapped between the train and the platform was Henrik Schroder, attempting to pull himself up by pushing his hands down onto the edge of the platform. By now the driver had opened the door and a few passengers were sitting down next to Henrik trying to comfort him and telling him not to panic, that help was on its way.

 

Petar Kloss was one of the first there who realized the seriousness of the situation. He had first tried to  help dislodge Henrik, but had then put his head down the gap next to Henrik to see why he was not moving easily. Despite later interviews by Guntar Muller and several other newspapers, Petar kept the detail of what he had seen to himself. Petar was an honourable man and knew the poor chaps next of kin would become aware of what was in print, so had seen no reason to share that Henriks body had become so twisted. The entire bottom part of his body had been turned completely round by the travelling train and moved up at an angle so that it almost doubled back on him. This was why he had become lodged, closing the space between platform edge and the train. The situation had been made more all the more unusual by the fact there appeared to be no blood, no injury. That was what had given Petar and those around him false hope.

Hope, slowly dashed once the ambulance men arrived.  The people-gulls had long been ushered away by the metro staff and policemen who had arrived early at the scene. The police had made a few exceptions, leaving a few passengers who seemed more involved in talking to Henrik who appeared to value their presence. These included Petar who had shelved his own plans for Christmas shopping in favour of holding Henriks hand and explaining over and over that there seemed to be no serious damage.

 

When later interviewed by Guntar he would absorb the callous accusations that he provided false hope, however these allegations would seep into his heart, forever pumping blood that would slowly poison his good judgement until he believed he was flawed.

The two most senior ambulance staff spent almost three hours analysing the scene, with one of them dropping down a gap between two carriages and crawling underneath the train until he was directly under Henrik. He had initially worked with his colleague above to try and pull Henriks legs back down but after a short while had insisted in speaking to the man above on the platform away from Henrik, crawling another cartridge’s length further down the platform to do so. This had caused Henrik to become frantic, shouting down at them whilst two policemen joined Petar and another bystander (possibly an underground worker, although records do not confirm) in trying to compose Henrik, explaining that they were following normal practice.

 

However when the ambulance men insisted that one of the policeman joined them causing the group of three to get into a discussion that could almost be described as an argument, Henrik realized that simply pulling him out was not looking likely to happen and that the situation was more severe than he was being told.. He was reaching a state of terror and despite focusing on holding Henrik still, Petar also began to appreciate that the contorted body he had seen below the train, might be a more serious situation than he initially anticipated, irrespective of the fact that not a drop of blood had been found.

Reading the detailed medical records, it appears that the second ambulance crew on the scene backed up the diagnosis of the first medics; the grim responsibility of telling Henrik the truth came down to the most senior policeman out of the eight now at the scene. The unfortunate man on duty left to break the news to Henrik that he could not be saved and that he was soon to die, was Special Constable Fredrick Klauss.

 

Henrik’s initial reaction was genuine confusion, believing that there had to have been a misunderstanding. He felt absolutely fine, as fine as one could when in the predicament in which he found himself. The senior ambulance man had joined Fredrick Klauss and was attempting to explain in simple terms that the only reason he was staying alive was that the train and the platform were ‘keeping him together’. This was the phrase that seemed to launch Henrik into a complete breakdown. Keeping him together? What did that mean, that he was no longer in one piece? Perhaps it was the shock of the news that had loosened Petars grip; when Henrik struggled this time, he managed to break a hand free and yanked one of the protective sheets the ambulance man had used to cover his body. For the first time Henrik saw that his knees were at the base of his back and realized that somewhere below, his hips must also be back to front. For some obscure reason, his eyes and thoughts  focused on the detailed grooves on the soles of his shoes which were positioned just below his elbow. Upon this realisation he was violently sick and momentarily passed out.

 

Meanwhile frantic messages were being escalated within bodies including the police force, the transport companies, media and the government. The situation was unprecedented and even if there were rule books to deal with disasters like this, no-one seemed to know the rules nor be willing to make related decisions. Telephone calls ensued and although all parties agreed that the train would need to be moved, and that this poor man would die the moment the first carriage passed his body. (by now all decision makers that needed to know, were aware of the medical diagnosis that the organs, including the liver and lungs had been ultimately severed from his lower torso and would simply ‘drop down to his gut’ once the support of the train and platform were removed.)

 

By now the media had picked up on the fact that Henriks family had been contacted to come and share their final moments with him before he died. Crowds had began to form outside the underground, many of whom were already demanding that they know what the plans were to save the poor trapped man. However, history will show that the main catalyst for the mass, country-wide demonstrations was the moment the head of the underground was interviewed above the station whilst many members of the public stood nearby. His rather blunt and unsympathetic statements included facts that this ‘situation’ was adversely disrupting the journeys of many Christmas shoppers and that some quick, although tough decisions about bringing the situation to an end would not only help the commuters but also remove risks of loss of revenue to the underground during a critical period. The outrage was almost immediate and as more and more people heard the dilemma, the protests started to gather momentum and the media swooped to capture the stories.

 

After some emergency meetings, a time-buying decision was made that Henrik could have until midnight with his family and then at 1am, the deed would be done, giving the services and underground staff enough time to reopen as per normal at 6am. Lawyers had been drafted in to ensure that appropriate paperwork would be produced for signature by the relevant bodies and possibly by Henriks next of kin (however as we know now, Henriks father clearly refuted these signatures being taken by any of the family members.)

The public interest engulfed the anticipation of those involved in these emergency meetings. Guntar played a key role in this, having managed to persuade his paper to run a new front story on the final edition of the evening paper. Guntar had spent the previous few hours interviewing members of the public and asking simple questions like ‘would you happily walk home if you knew a mans life depended on it’ and ‘would you drive the train away to kill the trapped commuter’. The impact of the front page article, accompanied by an opportunistic photograph of Breeda carrying their son being ushered past the crowds, was as massive as Guntar and his ego had hoped.

 

Crowds quickly formed outside parliament, the head police office as the public demanded that the life of Henrik be deemed of more value than the smooth operation of the cities transport. The government were sucked into the situation, scheduling further meetings with opposition representatives and related parties for later that evening. The prime minister (look up name) saw this as more than just a moral dilemma and debate about the importance of one man versus the environment that he existed within, instead this was an opportunity to sway the doubting public that he was ‘on their side’. Unemployment stood at over 60% (and rising) and the loss of power signed over to the Russians and Western world had decimated the level of control Germany had over imports and exports. He could feel the people rising against his tactics of ‘cosying up’ to the old enemy. Now was a chance to show he understood the importance of His people and that he was one of them.

 

He organised an emergency press conference at 10pm to inform the country that he had decided Henrik would live another 48 hours in order for his family to spend more time with him. After all, it would have taken Henriks father Gotlib at least 3 hours to get to Henrik and under the initial time line meaning that he would have barely had time to see his son before the hour of his imminent death. Prime Minster Fischer had insisted that the conference be outside the metro stop where crowds had continued to gather to voice their support, in favour of Henriks continued, if somewhat meagre, existence. However the reaction from the crowds was not as the Prime Minister had expected, they demanded longer, ‘as long as needed’. How dare he put a time limit on a man’s life, he would be the hatchet man in this modern day execution!

 

Meanwhile Henrik was down below with his wife, son, father and a few selected friends. News had been passed on that the prime minister was allowing him to live for another 2 days and that people were chanting for longer. Gotlib began arranging for bedding to be provided and food. He was the only one present to register the generosity of the public, , giving up precious food and drink to be passed down to the Schroders as well as their time to demonstrate and join in the Christmas carols that were now being sung on ground-level above their heads. Gotlib had managed to calm his son down, to get him to realise that the situation was irreversible and that Henrik must maximise his limited time with his family, his remaining thoughts and also address the practical matters. Gotlib had sent instructions for his lawyer to draft relevant papers to ensure wills and inheritance were up to date and in place amongst other paperwork. He had reminded his son of the importance of remaining strong and leaving a final impression on his son that would carry through into memories that would ‘make the boy’ rather than ‘break the boy’. Let along poor Breeda. He should leave her with words for her to cherish and more important, advice for the future. Gotlib made it clear that he would not be entertaining Henrik in emotional discussions involving the unfortunate circumstances and made it even clearer that he felt their conversations and thoughts should be separated from the circus going on upstairs. Unbeknown to Breeda and Henrik, his father had forbidden the prime minister himself from coming down for a personal audience with Henrik and his family.

 

By 10pm, Henrik and Breeda’s close friends had said their goodbyes, promising to come back the next day. The remaining ex-strangers including Petar and Inspector Fredrick had spoken with Henrik and Breeda before making their way back to their newly framed lives. Gotlib spoke at length to both of these upstanding men and several others thanking them profusely for their kindness and courage that day, stating that he would be in touch shortly “if circumstances allowed”.

 

Henrik and Breeda spent an hour with their son, reading his favourite stories and playing with his cars on the edge of the platform. This was the only time Henrik had cried and despite his best efforts both his wife and son noticed. His son was way beyond asking what his daddy was doing and asking sensible and innocent questions as to why he would want to be there. The story they had concocted made sense to a five year old, even if they did know that Gotlib disapproved of the intricacy of the lies. His son had witnessed his father’s tears for the first time as he witnessed his introduction to fear. Henrik seen this and soon the tears disappeared but not before his sons innocence had disappeared first.

 

After a while longer, Gotlib took his only grandchild to the other end of the platform and played with a torch lent by a railway worked, making such a range of animal faces with his hands that even he was surprise and, if the truth be known, a little impressed at himself.

 

This left the couple, still very much in love, possibly even at its optimal level. They are wrong when they say to it is easiest to love someone once they are gone, it is easiest to love someone once they are going. They whispered their secrets, possibly discussing past times, possibly discussing how they could live together for a long time in this ‘new home’. Word from the messages passed down were that the public were demanding trains be re-routed and that this platform would become Henrik and families home for as long as it took. Breeda was told in confidence by one of Super Intendant Fredrick’s colleagues that the government were in discussions with the underground to extend the status quo by a fortnight, at least through Christmas and New Year. (what he didn’t share with Breeda was that the reasoning would be that surely Henrik couldn’t survive that long.)

 

There were many tears from Breeda, but also the odd laugh, and this made Gotlib proud. His son, (the black-sheep!), had been a challenge, yet had become a very respectable and conservative man in every sense of the word and his mother would have been proud. Surprised but proud. God rest her soul.

 

After a while, Gotlib suggested that Breeda go and sleep under the pile of blankets gifted by strangers and after a short chat with the last remaining policeman on duty, lit up two Camel cigarettes and gave one to his son. First and possibly last cigarette together! Both knew the other smoked but never had it been discussed and never had they smoked in each other’s presence; until now. They smoked their pipes of peace, observing the sleeping family, the vacant seat of the policeman and listening to the silence. Henriks left hand held the cigarette; his right clenched his sons favourite toy car. Gotlibs right hand held his cigarette, his left clenched the necessary keys.

 

His father saved him, some might argue his father killed him but the fact remains, his father saved him.