Puzzled, Jolanda took it and stared at it. Taped to the paper were the very battered and sickly-looking remains of a dried flower blossom. “And . . .” she said slowly, “what is this?”
“You don’t recognize it? Odd. I was told that to people in Bavaria, the edelweiss blossom signifies a friendship that will last forever.”
Jolanda gasped and then carefully took it from him, examining it more closely. “You still have it?” Tears sprang to her eyes as he nodded. She handed it back to him and stood up to face him. “Thank you, Benji. That is the perfect answer to Lisa’s question, actually.”
Jolanda moved forward until she was just a foot in front of him. When she looked up, her eyes were moist with tears, but her smile was radiant and joyful. “Then, Herr Benjamin Westland,” she said with great solemnity, “with that answer, I am hereby authorized to give you a gift from Lisa, a gift that she personally gave to me the night before we left for America, and which she specifically asked me to deliver to you only if you answered her question correctly.”
“All right,” he said slowly, puzzled because she held nothing in her hands. But she solemnly took one more step forward, went up on her toes, and kissed him very softly on the cheek. She stepped back quickly, her face turning scarlet again. “That was from Lisa.” Her eyes were suddenly laughing up at him. “And yes, Benji, it means exactly what you hope it means.”
“Really?!” He fell back a step. “Whoo-ee! Really?”
Jolanda clapped her hands. “Oh, my! She is going to go through the roof when I tell her what you said. How did you say it again? ‘Whoo-ee!’ What does that mean?”
“Hallelujah! Wunderbar! Incredible!”
“Okay. That’s good. So, I have only one more question.”
“All right. What is it?”
She turned and looked to where the climbing rope and other gear was visible at the edge of the cliff. “I know that the perfect thing for me to do right now would be to say, ‘Benji, I am now ready to rappel with you down into Leprechaun Canyon.’ Perfect ending, right?” She turned and looked away. “But I can’t. I can’t do it. I’m sorry.”
“Hey,” he said, turning her back around to face him. “I would have walked fifty miles for what just happened here. Who cares about some old canyon? Tell you what, here’s another option.” He turned and pointed to the east. “How would you like to hike to the top of this ridge? It’s a spectacular view from up there. Red rock country as far as you can see in any direction. No need for ropes or climbing gear. Then we’ll come back down, pick up our stuff, and double-time it back down to the canyon’s mouth to join the family.”
Jolanda’s eyes widened. “You would do that for me?”
“I would. Happily.”
“And you won’t tell Lisa I was too frightened to go down the ropes?”
Benji reached down and picked up his hat, holding it in his hand. His eyes were laughing.
“What?” she asked, slapping at his arm. “Why are you laughing at me?”
“I won’t have to tell Lisa anything.”
Her eyes widened. “And . . . uh . . . why not?”
“Because someone once told me that you and Lisa share everything, right?” He replaced his hat. “Now, one last thing before we go.”
“What?”
Catching Jolanda totally by surprise, Benji took two steps forward, took her by the shoulders, and leaned in and kissed her gently, first on one cheek and then on the other. When he stepped back, his eyes were dancing. “So, little sister, when you get back home, you give Lisa that and tell her it’s from me. And you tell her that it means exactly what she hopes it means.”
August 20, 1933, 2:15 p.m.—
Hitler Youth Camp, Bavarian Alps
Lisa slipped her arm through her sister’s and pulled her forward. “Come on, before Frau Wettenberg sees us.” She pulled Jo into a fast walk and ducked between two of the tents.
“But—” Jo tried to pull free. “Won’t she be angry?”
“She’s always angry,” Lisa growled. “Come on.”
Alisa had received a call from her father on Wednesday evening saying that her family would be arriving home the next afternoon. She had begged him to bring them all down for Sunday afternoon visiting hours, even though her last day of camp was the following weekend. He had started to balk, but when she reminded him that she had given up a trip to America to be here, he caved in.
She had thought that her eagerness to see her family again was mostly because she was desperate to get a full report on how things had gone in Southern Utah. But when they had arrived, to Lisa’s surprise, she found her eyes burning as the children tumbled out of the car.
Frau Wettenberg, the director of the women’s portion of the camp, had been dazzled by the thought of meeting a high-ranking party official who was a close, personal friend of the Führer himself. So she had insisted on taking them on a VIP tour of the camp, in spite of Hans’s protestations that he had visited there numerous times before.
Twenty minutes later, Frau Wetternberg was still droning on about how wonderful Lisa was and how they planned to make her a group leader next year and how she was a natural, and on and on ad nauseam. Then Lisa had come up with an idea, saying that Jo needed a toilet badly, and they took off before anyone could object.
As they had raced away, Jo had started to giggle. “You are shameless.” Which Lisa had happily acknowledged.
8:32 p.m.—Wooded Area, Hitler Youth Camp
For a long time after Lisa got settled, her back up against the trunk of a towering pine tree, she just sat there, reviewing in her mind all that Jo had told her, savoring especially her account of what had transpired up near the top of Leprechaun Canyon. She smiled as one word came to mind. “Whoo-ee!”
She reached up and touched her cheek with her fingertips, marveling. It was Jo that had kissed her, but it had been Benji who’d sent it. Finally, she picked up the lapboard, took one of the sheets of stationery she had brought, smoothed it out, and prepared to write. But before she did, she took out Benji’s letter and read it for the sixth or seventh time, focusing particularly on how he had signed it. In her mind, it was perfect. Not anything gushy. And yet, not quite the same. Always before he had signed his letters, “Your friend always.” She ran her fingers over the final line. “Thank you for our treasured and lasting friendship, Benji.”
With a soft sigh, she picked up the pencil and began:
Dear Benji,
That should be safe enough, she thought. Though in most of her other letters, it had been just “Benji,” or “Hi, Benji.”
I have just spent a glorious afternoon with my family—my whole family. They all came to visit me today. It was wonderful. They arrived home three days ago and Papa brought them all down to see me here at camp. They all looked so tan and happy. Little Niko was wearing the cowboy hat and cowboy boots that Mama brought home for him, and he was busting his buttons. Rikki showed me her “dream catcher” that she bought from “real Indians.” They had such a wonderful time, Benji. Thanks again to your family for providing such an unforgettable experience for them all. Jo claims that she is perfectly comfortable on a horse now and even roped a calf. Can you verify her story? (Just kidding!)
Jo told me all about your trip to “the most spectacular places in the world,” including Leprechaun Canyon. She also told me that she wasn’t ever able to work up enough nerve to brave a hundred-foot rappel down a cliff. She actually started crying when she told me how patient you were with her and how you didn’t make her ashamed at all. Thank you for that too, Benji. I cannot express how envious I am, especially of rappeling down a cliff with you.
Lisa caught herself, staring at what she had written, and then quickly erased the last two words, feeling her cheeks warm as she did so.
Someday—and this is a vow I made to myself after my family returned home this afternoon—somed
ay I am going to come out to Utah to visit my Tante Paula and Tante Anna and their families. And when I do, I am coming to Monticello. And you have to promise me that you’ll take me to Leprechaun Canyon. Swear it! Anyway, I am trying to say thank you for all that your family did for my family. Please convey our deepest thanks to them for all of it.
She stopped and reread what she had written. Okay. Nothing too . . . revealing. But now what to say? She took up the pencil again when an idea occurred to her.
You asked me in your letter what life is like here in the Hitlerjugend Program. Most of it is really quite boring. I’ll try to write a few things, but I warn you. Some of them will sound very strange to you.
Her head came up as she heard the clang of the camp bell.
Sorry, Benji, but I have to close for now. It is nine o’clock and the camp bell is ringing, which is the signal for all to gather for a group meeting. They’re giving us instructions on what has to happen this week before we return home. I will try to write again soon. But it may not be until I get home.
She stopped, her pencil hovering over the paper. Then, feeling a bit ridiculous for worrying about such things, she quickly added:
Warmest wishes to a dear friend, Lisa
August 21, 1933, 1:35 a.m.—Hitler Youth Camp
With a long, weary sigh of exasperation, Lisa threw the blanket back and sat up on her cot. The tent was in total darkness and all was quiet except for the soft breathing of her seven tentmates. She rubbed her eyes. She was exhausted. Why couldn’t she sleep?
Stupid question. Her mind was like a mountain stream tumbling down a rocky hillside. Moving carefully, she reached under her cot and retrieved a pair of slippers and a light jacket. She was already shivering in the coolness of the mountain air. She stood and put the slippers and jacket on and then moved to the small footlocker at the end of her bed. Very carefully she lifted the lid and retrieved her flashlight, two pencils, two additional sheets of paper, and the lapboard. Then she tiptoed past the other cots to the flap of the tent. She listened for a moment before she slipped outside and lowered the flap behind her, her heart pounding.
The moon was nearly full and was bathing everything in its soft, silvery glow. Able to see clearly where she was going, Alisa slipped the flashlight into her jacket pocket and headed across the assembly area toward the copse of trees where she had been earlier. Only when she entered the deep darkness did she relax a little and turn on her flashlight. She sat there for almost a minute, listening intently to make sure she was alone, and then she began.
Dear Benji,
It is well after midnight now, and here I am starting another letter, even though I posted one to you just a few hours ago. But I couldn’t sleep and so I slipped out of my tent and am outside alone again. Which is not a good idea. A strict rule here in camp is that after lights go out, we cannot leave our tents. If I get caught, I will end up on latrine duty, cleaning toilets with a toothbrush. But I couldn’t sleep, and I didn’t want to wait another week to answer your question about camp. So here I am.
Okay, Hitler Youth Camp. What is it like? What do we do each day? How many are here? Do I like it?
I shall try to be honest. I have mixed emotions about the camp. I love it here because we are in the Bavarian Alps near the Austrian border. From the door of my tent I can see mountains all around us, and even this late in the summer, the higher peaks are still covered with snow and glaciers and are very beautiful.
There are about a thousand of us in the camp. About six hundred and fifty are boys, the rest girls. The ages in the camp range from ten to eighteen. The boys’ camp is in a different area than ours, but we do many things together. There are other camps all around Germany, because there are now about two million of us in the Hitler Youth. I am told that ours is one of the most beautiful, so I feel very lucky. It is about a hundred miles from Munich.
Recently, the government dissolved all other youth groups, like those sponsored by the Catholic and Lutheran churches. They are going to close down the Church’s Boy Scout programs too. Fortunately, they haven’t said anything about the youth conferences we hold each year. We have an all-Germany conference two weeks from now, and Jo and I are both going with other youth in our branch. I am really excited about that because it is up in Konigsberg, which is on the Baltic Sea, and we will camp on a beach. That will be the first time I’ve been to a real ocean beach and not just a lake beach.
We have a very regimented schedule here. We do a lot of classes where we learn how to be strong German women and strong German citizens. They’re pretty boring, to be honest. We talk a lot about motherhood and having children and a woman’s role in the Third Reich. I guess for some girls that is helpful, but I already believe that families are important. It’s also boring because a lot of it is party propaganda.
But we also do a lot of activities, and I love that. We exercise every day and go on a long hike about once each week, so I am in very good shape. I even bet I could beat you in an arm wrestle. I beat seven out of ten boys the other day. The three who beat me were all eighteen and lift weights a lot.
We play a lot of Fussball, which you call soccer in America, which is weird. You don’t “sock” the ball. You kick it with your feet. German says it better!
We also canoe on a big lake that’s part of our camp, and we have an archery range and a rifle range. I love rifle shooting and am pretty good at it. I also put five arrows out of five in the bull’s-eye of the target in archery class. (Sorry to sound like I’m bragging, but if it’s true, is it really bragging? Ha ha!) Jo told me that you have your own rifle and carry it with you on your horse when you go into the mountains. I’m envious. I love shooting.
We usually have a political rally at least once a week in the stadium, which seats about fifteen hundred. The camp commandant or other local Nazi Party official usually speaks to us, but sometimes we have visitors who are very important in the party.
In July, there was a rumor that Hitler himself was going to come and see us, and everyone was very excited. We had to clean up the whole camp. But at the last moment, the Führer canceled and sent the head of the Hitler Youth program for all of Germany. He came for the swearing-in ceremony of our newest youth. To be honest, I dreaded going to it, but once I was there, I couldn’t help but be impressed. The whole stadium was filled with all different sizes of the Nazi flag, which as you probably know is red, white, and black, and very beautiful in bright sunlight. There was also an enormous banner that had the Hitler Youth motto written on it in huge letters: Blut und Ehre. Blood and honor. We sang songs while we waited, mostly military marching songs. For some reason, they always make my heart beat a little faster. Partly that’s because I love music, but when you’re singing them with more than a thousand other people it is a really stirring thing, especially when the motorcade swept into the stadium.
When our guest arrived, the commandant of the camp came to the microphone and asked all of us to stand and raise our arms in the Nazi salute. With a roar like thunder we all shouted at the top of our voices, Sieg Heil! Sieg Heil! This may sound silly to you, Benji, but it sent shivers up and down my back in a way I’ve never felt before. It is hard to explain, but it did.
When our guest spoke to us, he told us why the party is so concerned about young people. He said, “You are the future of Germany! You are the Germany of tomorrow!” I can’t stop thinking about that, even now. In a way it’s true. I’ll soon be an adult. A wife, a mother. My children will help shape what the Fatherland will be. When he finished, he had us all stand and turn and salute a massive flag right behind him, which was probably three stories high. Then we all recited the oath of the Hitler Youth movement: “I hereby vow and swear with a solemn oath that I will always do my duty in the Hitler Youth, and I do this out of love and loyalty to the Führer and to our flag.”
You probably wonder how I, as a member of the Church, could swear an oath to a mortal man. Now
I ask myself the same question. But that day, strange as it may seem, I was so caught up in that moment that I truly believed that Adolf Hitler is the one to save our country from ruin. I believed that the Third Reich will lift Germany to new heights and make us a great nation again. Which is weird too, for so many things about the Nazi philosophy leave me absolutely cold. Such as burning books to purify our culture.
Lisa had to stop for a minute. Holding the flashlight with one hand and writing with the other was tiring. She erased a couple of misspelled words and rewrote them as she read what she had written. Then she began again.
With all that said, now let me share some things that bother me about camp. As I think you know, my father was one of the earliest members of the National Socialist Party and now holds a position of importance in the party. (Though he is now working on starting a new career. More on that later.) He and Adolf Hitler have been personal friends now for over ten years. Because of that, I have a much better idea of what the party is like than most people. And now it seems like every time I turn around, I find another contradiction between what they teach and what they practice.
For example, for all that the party stresses the importance of families, our camp directors and instructors are very negative about our parents. They constantly say that parents and children are natural enemies and that parents always try to hold their children back, treating us like children even when we no longer are. Which is true in a way. And after listening to some of my friends here, some parents are definitely that way. Thankfully, mine are not. I love my parents.
I have written to you before about my cousin Miki. Growing up, she was always my favorite cousin. And my father’s favorite niece. She’s very, very beautiful, very intelligent, and very funny. She is your age. This is her last year in Hitler Youth. She’s been more like a big sister than a cousin to me all of these years. Now in some ways it’s like I don’t know her. There is a hardness inside her that almost frightens me. She speaks very harshly about her parents, my Onkel Klaus and Tante Heidi, even though I know they have always given her everything she wants. She makes fun of them to her friends, calling them senile old fools. And her language is quite foul sometimes. But the thing that really upsets me is that she is giving herself to one of the ranking camp officers in return for “preferential treatment,” even though she doesn’t really like him.
Fire and Steel, Volume 6 Page 7