Lisa moved forward slowly until she caught her mother’s eye. When she saw her, Emilee smiled. “Ready to go?”
“Ja.” Like for twenty minutes! “I have a big stack of homework to do for tomorrow.”
“Okay. I’ll only be a minute. You and Jo round up the children.” Then Emilee turned back to the others.
Irritated, Lisa started walking over to where Jolanda was talking with a group of her friends. Then she audibly groaned. Walking across the room toward her mother was President Enzenberger, president of the Munich Branch. “Sister Eckhardt,” he called, “would you have a moment?”
No! No! No!
But of course her mother went. They walked across the room and went into one of the small dining rooms that served as the branch president’s office on Sundays.
As the door shut behind them, Lisa called to her sister, clearly annoyed. “I’ll be outside.” And with that, she spun around and stalked away.
Out in the hallway, she was fuming as she started for the elevator. Suddenly she stopped. Off to one side, there was a large poster placed on one of the hotel’s brass easels. It brought her up short. Curious, she went over.
It was made of stiff posterboard about two feet high and maybe eighteen inches across. The colors were bright and eye-catching. It was a painting, or perhaps more accurately, an illustration. Filling most of the poster was a picture of a fresh-faced girl about thirteen or fourteen years old. She had light-brown hair, sky-blue eyes, a darling smile, and prominent dimples. In the background, over her right shoulder, part of the Nazi flag was furling in the wind, with the black swastika evident for all to see. The perfect little Aryan!
There was no question what the poster was about, though it had no title. The girl was wearing the summer uniform of the Jungmädelbund, or Band of Young Girls, the same uniform that Lisa had worn for the last three summers. That was the branch of the Hitler Youth for girls ages ten to fourteen.
But what irritated Lisa the most was the motto printed in bold, black letters: “Every Girl Belongs to Us.” She shook her head in disgust. It was more than a motto. This was steel-hard reality. Suddenly her frustration boiled over. She looked up and down the hall once more and then snatched the poster off the easel and held it behind her back. Moving quickly before anyone came out, she pushed through the door into the women’s restroom. There was no one else there. She walked over to the trash bin and stopped short. The top of the can had no lid on it, and it was half full of paper towels, but there was no way the poster was going in there without her ripping it apart or bending it in half.
That sobered her. She was angry, but not that angry. German law was very strict about any form of criticism against the Third Reich. Even an offhand joke overheard by the wrong person could bring the Gestapo down on you. And she had been about to destroy a government-produced poster. What had come over her?
She heard female voices out in the hallway and jumped nearly a foot. They were drawing closer. In a panic, Lisa pulled the trash bin away from the wall enough that she was able to thrust the poster behind it. Then she pushed the can back in place. It didn’t completely cover the poster, but it was enough that it didn’t immediately catch the eye. As the door opened and two girls came in, Lisa gave them a quick smile, ducked past them, and hurried away.
3:03 p.m.—Outside the Empress Hotel
“Lisa?”
She was sitting on a bench just outside the hotel, head down on her arms, which were folded across her knees. When she looked up, she was relieved to see that it was Jo. “It’s about time, Jo,” she snapped. Then she saw that she was alone. “Where’s everyone else?”
Jo was grave. “President Enzenberger wants to see you.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Mama says to come right now. He’s waiting for you.”
“Why?”
“How would I know? Just go. What’s the matter with you today?”
When they walked back into the banquet hall a minute later, the room was nearly empty. Lisa’s family was off to one side, talking with another family, but her mother was waiting for her. She pointed toward the room that served as President Enzenberger’s office. “He’s in there,” she said.
Heart fluttering, a sense of dread settling in on her, Lisa moved to the door and knocked. It opened a moment later. “Ah, Alisa. Come in.” He smiled warmly, shook her hand, and motioned her to the nearest chair. He took the one across from her.
As he got settled, Lisa saw something behind him that turned her to stone. Propped up on one of the other chairs was a brightly colored poster with the picture of a young, fresh-faced girl. Lisa groaned and covered her face with her hands. “Who found it?” When he didn’t answer, she added, “How did you know it was me who took it?”
To her surprise, he gave a short laugh. “So I was right. I thought so.” Then he sighed. “I didn’t know it was you. It was just a guess.”
She winced. “So no one saw me do it?”
“No,” he said. He sighed. “I was watching you during church, and I could see that you were not very happy. Then when the branch clerk knocked on the door and said that one of the sisters had found the Hitler Youth poster in the women’s bathroom, I assumed it was a female who took it, and. . . .” He shrugged. “And so I thought of you.”
Lisa didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t even look up at him, she was so ashamed. “I’m sorry, President. It was a stupid thing to do.”
He leaned forward. “Have you wondered why we have a poster advertising the Hitler Youth program displayed in a Latter-day Saint meetingplace?”
“Uh. . . .” She had, actually. “Is it the hotel’s?”
“Not really. The local Gestapo office heard that we have a lot of youth in our branch, especially girls. So they brought the poster to the hotel and told them that we were to display it in a prominent place whenever we have a meeting.” He hesitated. “It wasn’t a request, Lisa.”
The Gestapo? She felt herself go weak in the knees.
“I think I have some idea why you may have done it, but I’d like to hear it from you.”
Lisa was afraid she was going to be sick. Then a thought hit her like a thunderbolt. Her father had gone to great lengths to disassociate himself with the Nazi Party without alienating them. He had made that clear last night when he told her she couldn’t withdraw from the Hitler Youth. So what would have happened if I had torn the poster up and the Gestapo had learned who did it? The thought chilled her to the bone.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, very close to tears now.
President Enzenberger sat back but said nothing. Almost a minute passed before she dared to look up again. She was debating seriously about whether to jump out of the second-story window, which was open, or just lie down and die right there on the floor. Finally she looked up and meekly said, “I am so sorry, President. I was frustrated and. . . . It was a stupid thing to do.”
“And the Jungmädelbund was part of that frustration, eh?”
You have no idea! But all she said aloud was a meek yes. Then her voice rose and the anger was there again. “They make that girl look so happy! So cute!” Her voice was harsh with heavy sarcasm. “So adorable.”
President Enzenberger nodded. Another full minute went by, with Lisa feeling more awkward and embarrassed with every passing moment. She was confounded. What did he expect her to say?
Then he spoke, and what he said took her totally by surprise. “So, do you have any questions for me?”
“Um . . . like what?”
“Well, I was baptized when I was thirteen. Missionaries came to our door one night in a raging snowstorm. My mother took pity on them and let them in. Three months later, our whole family was baptized. And I loved the Church at first.”
Lisa’s eyes narrowed. At first?
He smiled. “Then, when I was about your age, the questions starte
d coming.”
“Like . . . what kind of questions?”
He shrugged. “About God.” He chuckled softly. “You have to remember that I am a mechanical engineer by training, so I guess my mind works in a very logical fashion. So here was a question that came to me one day. There are about two billion people on earth. ‘So what would happen,’ I wondered one day, ‘if by some strange coincidence, every single person on the earth prayed to God at exactly the same moment? What would He do?’ I know that’s not very likely to—”
“But if they did,” Lisa broke in, amazed by what he was saying, “how could He possibly listen to every one of them at the same time?”
He chuckled. “Ah, so you have those kinds of questions too?”
Lisa was struck with wonder. She had wondered about things like this, but she had never shared her thoughts with anyone, not even Jo. To question God and His abilities seemed blasphemous. “Here’s another one,” she said. “I don’t know why, but when I say my private prayers, I don’t say them out loud. I say them only inside my head. I’ve tried to say them aloud, but I always slip back.”
“Ah, and you wonder if God can ‘hear’ our thoughts?” When her head bobbed once, he asked, “And what have you decided?”
“I’m. . . . I hope so, because I still do it. I mean, He has to be able to, right?”
President Enzenberger reached down and got a book from his briefcase. “Did you know that God has given us the answer to that question?” She saw that he had the Doctrine and Covenants. “God is wondrous,” he mused as he opened the book, “and it is sometimes difficult for our finite, little minds to grasp His workings and His ways.” He opened the book and quickly found the place he was looking for. “Listen to this. ‘There is none else save God that knowest thy thoughts and the intents of thy heart.’”
Lisa was staring at him in wonder as he closed the book and set it aside. “I’m going to make a guess about you, Lisa. Though you have questions like these, you feel that God is real, right?”
That was easy. “Ja, ja. Very much so.”
“And that He loves you?”
“Yes. Without question.”
“Even when He sends Jo off to America and leaves you behind in the Hitler Youth program?”
That hit her like a brick. “I. . . .” She turned her thoughts inward. Did she? Then, slowly, her head bobbed once. “Yes, President, even then.”
“I thought so.” He stood up and came around the table. She quickly got to her feet. He laid a hand on her shoulder and looked deeply into her eyes. “Alisa, because God is our Heavenly Father, He knows us intimately and loves us infinitely. And because of that, sometimes He has to stand back and let us experience hard things so that we can grow.”
She felt her eyes start to burn.
“You are one of His choice and beloved daughters, Alisa. He has not forgotten you, nor will He ever. I feel strongly impressed to tell you that. He will never forsake you. Never!”
He stepped back. “Well, your family is waiting. Come.” Another chuckle. “And I don’t think there’s any need to mention posters. Do you? I’ll put it back on the easel on my way out.”
June 1, 1934, 7:56 p.m.—Eckhardt Home, Munich
When their bedroom door opened, Lisa didn’t bother to even look up. She knew it was Jo.
“I thought you wanted to listen to the London Philharmonic concert,” Jo said.
Lisa tucked the book she had been reading out of sight behind her and sat up. “I did. But I have homework to do.”
“On a Friday night? But it’s an all-Beethoven concert. You love Beethoven.”
“I know. But I have a book report due on Monday.”
“Oh.” Jo came closer, feigning boredom. Then, quick as a flash, she darted forward and snatched the book out from behind Lisa.
“Hey!” Lisa lunged at her, but she wasn’t quick enough. Jo moved back several steps and looked at the book. She gave her sister a long look. “The Book of Mormon? Frau Zonecker assigned you a book report on the Book of Mormon?”
Jumping up from the bed, Lisa snatched the book back. “No. And if it’s any of your business, which it is not, I am doing a book report on Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World.” She pointed to the dresser. “Which is right there waiting for me. As soon as I finish this chapter.”
To Lisa’s surprise, Jo moved over to the door and shut it. Thinking she was leaving, Lisa had sat down again. Now Jo came over and sat down on her bed across from her sister. “Are you all right?”
Lisa snickered. “You find me reading the Book of Mormon and you ask if I’m all right?”
“Girls!” It was their father’s voice. “The concert’s starting.”
“Coming, Vati,” Jo sang out. She turned to face Lisa, very serious now. “Are you all right?” she asked again.
“Of course I’m all right. Stop asking dumb questions.”
“Oh? If it’s a dumb question, then how come you’re so happy? You’re smiling all the time. You hum while you’re brushing your hair.” Jo jumped back as Lisa took a swing at her. “Volunteering to do the breakfast dishes this morning. Absolutely shocking.” She reached out and felt for a pulse. “Hmm. Seems normal.”
“Now you sound like Papa.” But Lisa was taken aback by her sister’s perceptiveness. She tossed the Book of Mormon onto the bed and walked over and picked up Brave New World. “If you will excuse me now,” she sniffed loftily, “I have a book report to write.”
Jo sighed and left. Lisa shut the door, waited a moment, and then locked it. With that, she tossed Huxley onto the bed beside her Book of Mormon, marveling once again at how perceptive her sister was. Then she opened the top drawer of her nightstand and took out her pen and two sheets of stationery. As the first strains of Beethoven’s Fidelio Overture sounded, she began.
Dear Benji,
Though I know you are probably still somewhere in Oklahoma and that it may be quite a while before this letter catches up with you, I wanted to write tonight and make a confession. I am a thief. And I got caught at it.
Yes, shocking I know. But the story has a good ending. But I shall get to that in a minute. I have so much to tell you first.
9:18 p.m.
The doorbell rang just a few minutes after the orchestra had started to warm up again after the intermission. All four children leaped to their feet. “Stay!” Hans barked as he grabbed his cane and hoisted himself awkwardly to his feet. “I’ll get it.”
All heads turned to watch him as he went into the entry hallway. A moment later, their father reappeared. “It’s Alemann,” he said to Emilee. “We’ll be in my office.”
Alemann stuck his head in to say hello. “Guten Abend, Emilee.” He raised a hand in greeting. “Guten Abend, everyone. Sorry for the interruption.”
“It is good to see you, Alemann,” Emilee said, moving to the radio to turn down the volume a little. “How is Richelle?”
“Fine, fine. She sends her regards.”
As Hans shut the door behind them, Alemann said to him, “Sorry again to interrupt your evening,”
“No, no. I was actually thinking of getting up and working on a lesson or something. I don’t have the patience for music this evening.”
“Something bothering you?”
“Not really. Just. . . .” Hans sighed. “I don’t know.”
“Maybe it’s a little letdown from your faculty lecture today. I’ve never seen you so nervous.”
Hans blew out his breath. “I was doing all right until I made the mistake of looking into their faces. Suddenly I felt like a piece of raw meat tossed to a pride of lions.”
Alemann hooted. “Surely it wasn’t that bad.”
“They were pretty grim.”
Alemann laughed again. “We take lessons in looking grim so we can intimidate our students. But they loved it, Hans. You got a standing ovation
. We don’t see that very often.”
“Is that what that was?” he muttered. “I thought they were getting up to stampede the exits.”
“I’m serious. They learned things about the Beer Hall Putsch they’ve never heard before. The details of what took place between the time the three ministers escaped from the hall and the confrontation with the Bavarian National Police at Odeonplatz was mesmerizing. You never told me some of that.”
“Well, to be honest, even now, after all these years, it’s a little bit traumatic to relive it in my mind.”
“I knew you were close to Hitler when the firing started and then helped get him to his car and escape, but I didn’t realize you were right next to. . . . What was his name again?”
“Max Scheubner-Richter.”
“Ja, ja.” Alemann’s eyes narrowed. “Though Hitler denied it, some say that he was the one who fired first. You didn’t say anything about that. You were right there. Is that true?”
“Um . . . things fell apart pretty quickly, and it’s hard to say for sure what actually happened.” Hans chortled softly. “Okay, that’s the official statement. But I did see Adolf draw his pistol. He was very agitated when Ludendorff started forward. So yes, I’m pretty sure he was the first one to fire. Max actually saved his life. When Max was hit and went down, he had his arm linked through Adolf’s and yanked him off his feet.”
Alemann leaned back in his chair. “Well, I didn’t get a chance to talk to you afterward. Too many people swarming around you. But what you did today was not only very well done; it was really important. A lot of people in the department had thought you were brought on just because you are a friend of Hitler’s. There was some resentment, even considerable professional jealousy, since you don’t even have a bachelor’s degree. But your grasp of the events of that day, and the details that led up to it, is amazing. And that’s what history’s all about. I think you put to rest once and for all any questions about whether you are qualified to be one of us.”
“I hope so. I am surprised at how much I love being in the classroom. But it was pretty intimidating.”
Fire and Steel, Volume 6 Page 12