by Donald Hunt
Marlene’s other close friend was Laura Knochen. Laura was employed as a librarian at the University on the main campus. She had worked there for 10 years. Her husband, Gerhard, was killed in France in 1918, about six months before the war’s end. Marlene visited the library usually one or two mornings a week to fill her appetite for reading. Laura was very proficient in her position, and not accustomed to idly chatting with library patrons. But she quickly gained an appreciation for Marlene’s unique qualities. Eventually the women set aside Tuesdays for lunch. Sometimes they went to the Pumpkin House for pastries and tea. As the head librarian, Laura loved her work. She had been married five years when the war robbed her of Gerhard. Now a widow, she immersed herself in her work, took no interest in men and refused to succumb to self- pity. She felt she could endure the loss of only one husband, one broken heart, so she vowed to remain single. A Catholic, Laura had several friends in the church and at the University, but Marlene became special to her.
The events of 1939 were disturbing to both women. Laura was an avid reader of history. During one of their Tuesday lunches that September, she couldn’t help but make comparisons between Hitler and a Greek general in antiquity.
“About 350 BC, a Greek general, Philip of Macedon, began a military domination of the area,” she said to Marlene. “His smaller war-like neighbors could not stand up against him. As he would conquer one country he would propose peace to another. Sound familiar? By 338 he had conquered all of Greece. But two years later he was assassinated. His son was Alexander the Great, who continued his father’s conquests but to a much greater extent. Much of the world became Hellenistic in cultural orientation. They even adopted a common language called Koine Greek that was used to write the Christian New Testament. Interestingly, Alexander died at age 33 in Babylon under mysterious circumstances. He died in the palace of Nebuchadnezzar.”
“So, you see a parallel between the Hellenistic culture of 300 BC and the Nazi Aryan race?”
“Absolutely, Marlene. But Alexander’s world of conquest was short lived. Hitler has proclaimed the Third Reich will last 1000 years. Well, I doubt it!”
“One thing seems clear though, Laura. Nations will not oppose Hitler for what he is doing to the Jews. They will rise up only when they are directly threatened by him.”
“I’m afraid you are right,” she said sadly.
They were sitting in the courtyard of the Pumpkin House. The entrance was no longer as inviting as it once was. Now there was a large, yellow six-pointed Star of David painted beside the door.
As the two women sat quietly, Paula Herzog appeared with a fresh pot of hot tea. She and Victor had been devastated by the Night of Broken Glass. They were fortunate to have avoided being arrested or beaten, but many of their neighbors and Jewish friends had been taken to camps and their businesses damaged or destroyed. The Herzog’s escaped with only the yellow star. They had been instructed to add “Israel” as their middle name and now each wore a yellow star on the left upper corner of their coats.
Paula smiled weakly.
“You are both a balm to the spirit,” she said with a forced smile.
Setting the pot of tea on the table, she turned to hug each woman, then pulled out a chair and sat down. Marlene smiled at her and felt a sense of guilt seep into the well of relief she’d been harboring for having been spared the abuse the Herzog’s had experienced. As suddenly as the guilt came, it was replaced with a wave of anger. She said nothing. Instead, she wondered in silence how God could allow such a degree of evil and inhumanity to flourish.
Laura was the first to acknowledge these unspoken feelings.
“You know that we hate what is going on in Germany,” she said, taking Paula’s hand. “At least men can rise up in defiance against tyranny while we can just watch. But there are those who will not just watch.”
“The love of friends is about all we have,” said Paula. “Our business will not sustain us. The future is frightening. In fact, I don’t think there is a future.” Paula stood up and thanked both women for coming. “I have to get back to the bakery,” she said quickly.
Laura and Marlene sat in silence for a few moments. “It’s such a helpless feeling”, Marlene moaned.
“And you’re in a more difficult position than I am,” Laura replied. “But I’m not going to just watch this happen. My husband died for this country. He died for Germany not for the Aryan Race.”
Within a few short weeks of the Nazi victory in Poland, radical changes in the cultural landscape were initiated. Just before the invasion began, Hitler had warned his Generals that they should not interfere if they witnessed immoral or tasteless activities. Reinhard Heydrich, chief assistant to the director of the SS, drew up a directive for what became known as ‘housecleaning’. In this memorandum, the concept of a ‘final solution’ was established. Within months, more than one-half million Polish Jews were deported east of the Vistula River into what would become known as ‘ghettos’. Over the next year, the focus of the war moved to Denmark, Norway, and finally France. Thousands of Polish intellectuals were murdered by the SS. Thousands more froze to death in the ‘resettlement’. The winter of 1939 to 1940 was unusually severe. The Nazi goal was to ensure there would be no professors, lawyers, doctors, politicians or Jews left in Poland…. no one who could potentially lead a resistance movement.
In February 1940, SS Oberfuehrer Richard Gluecks was looking for a suitable site for a new ‘quarantine camp’. He informed Himmler that he had found an area near Cracow, Poland. It was called Auschwitz.
The previous Christmas of 1939 was unusually bleak for Germany. Normally the high point of the year, the cold was severe and the celebrations were few. Hitler felt it appropriate to exchange holiday greetings to the Russian Head of State. He sent a wire.
“Best wishes for your personal well-being as well as for the prosperous future of the peoples of the friendly Soviet Union.”
Stalin sent a reply. “The friendship of the peoples of Germany and the Soviet Union, cemented in blood, has every reason to be lasting and firm.”
After many weeks of secret preparation, on April, 9, 1940, the German envoys to Denmark and Norway delivered an ultimatum that those governments immediately accept, without resistance, the protection of the Third Reich. Specifically, the protection was against Anglo-French ‘occupation’. Although there was virtually zero threat of an Anglo-French invasion.
The Danes were in an impossible situation. Their little island nation was indefensible. The Danish King capitulated and by breakfast the next morning, Denmark was in German hands. Norway was a different story. Some of the northern ports fell easily to the German Navy, but Bergen in the south, connected to Oslo by rail, resisted. The British Navy became involved and a British Sub sunk the German light cruiser Karlsruhe. German warships ran into stiff resistance along the 50-mile Oslo Fjord. But when Nazi para-troopers captured the Oslo airport, the Germans got the upper hand. Although Norwegian and British forces slowed the advances, within about six weeks the entire country came under German control. On June 7th, the Norwegian King and his government were evacuated to London on the British Cruiser Devonshire.
The quick conquests of Denmark and Norway were important victories for the Reich and discouraging for the British. But the German Navy had taken heavy losses. This fact would be vital in the months to come, although the depleted navy was not considered an issue for the German High Command. Their singular goal for the next year was victory in the west, the conquest of Belgium, Holland, and France.
* * *
In 1940, Hanz Eichenwald found himself in a profound moral dilemma. He had been selected to head a military project to develop a nuclear weapon. If successfully produced, the weapon would help Hitler dominate the world. It had been made clear to him that if uncooperative, he and his wife Marlene would be deported with other Jews. They would likely be sent to Poland. His colleagues on the project w
ere not pro-Nazi. But they were pro-German. They would work diligently for the cause and hope the political issues would be resolved. Hanz felt that none of the men with whom he worked were anti-Semites. But he didn’t feel comfortable discussing their thoughts about what was happening to their country. The initial goal of the group was to develop a strategy to successfully produce a controlled chain reaction in uranium or a similar element. All of their other research projects were placed on hold to focus on this one project for the military.
Hanz had shared with Marlene that he thought a bomb could be successfully produced in five years if every decision made was the right one. He told her there could be no blind alleys. And he also told her of his intention to begin the planning of their escape. He foresaw a plan that could unfold in one to two years and was certain that the Gestapo could intervene at any moment and for any reason, and remove him from his highly sensitive position. Hanz did not tell his wife that he would die before placing a weapon of mass destruction in the hands of Adolph Hitler. He knew that the energy production of even two pounds of U-235 would be devastating. It would kill large numbers of civilians and spread radioactivity for hundreds of kilometers. He also knew there would be no effective defense from such a weapon. For the maniacal Fuehrer of the Third Reich to have such a weapon was unthinkable.
Hanz suspected that his appointment to the bomb program had been hotly debated, and on this, he was correct. The War Ordinance Department wanted him involved while the Gestapo wanted to arrest him. In the end, it had seemed foolish to waste his talent. It might also have been a propaganda nightmare to place a man of his international reputation in a ghetto. So the decision had been made at the highest levels to keep him onboard and to watch him closely. If there was any evidence of sabotage, he and his wife would be killed.
Hanz didn’t have to know the details of this decision to know why and how it was made. He was no fool. In those early months of 1940, the nuclear arms race took off. And strangely, the director of the German effort was determined that his side would not win and that he would live to tell the tale.
The German team had decided that fast-neutron fission of U-235 was the best way to achieve a bomb. This meant their initial focus had to be on acquiring a large amount of uranium and then finding a suitable method of separating out the U-235 from the U-238, which was the dominant isotope. Getting the needed quantities of uranium was possible. But isotope separation was the problem. In addition, acquiring a suitable moderator might prove difficult. Hanz favored heavy water or deuterium. The only source of significant amounts of heavy water in the world was an electro-chemical plant 90 miles west of Oslo in southern Norway. Earlier in the year, the management of the plant had been approached by German officials regarding buying all of their available heavy water. But the Norwegians had refused. By May of 1940, German forces occupied Norway and the plant was now in German hands.
The military activity in the early months of 1940 had been dubbed the ‘phony war’. With overwhelming force and almost no meaningful resistance, the Germans had occupied Denmark and Norway. Now on May 10th the ‘phony war’ abruptly ended as Germany invaded Belgium, Luxembourg and the Netherlands. This paved the way for their planned invasion of France.
Chapter 12
An Expression of Love
It had been almost a year since Anna had attended the meeting called by the Counsel on Eugenics. Images of that horrific film and the executions of the six men in Plotzensee Prison had drifted into her mind on dozens of occasions. She made every effort to dismiss them. But she still had the nightmares. In her dreams, she would stare at the dangling bodies and almost feel the piano wire tightening around her throat. Then she would wake up, gasping for breath, her fingers tugging at her nightgown in the darkness.
So much had happened in her life and the life of her country since that first meeting at the hospital. The barbaric experiments designed for the eugenics program had been postponed indefinitely. This was primarily due to the intensity of military activity that followed the invasion of Poland. For every day that the program was delayed, Anna was grateful.
She remained extremely busy at the hospital. While most of the wounded soldiers were being cared for in field hospitals and centers in Stuttgart, Dusseldorf and Hamburg, a number of war casualties were beginning to trickle into Berlin from the front. She and Christian found themselves caring for more and more each month. Mounting casualties notwithstanding, the German Wehrmacht was experiencing victory after victory with their Blitzkrieg tactics.
The passing of the Nuremburg Laws and the violent hours that made up the Night of Broken Glass, together formed the perfect atmosphere of fear and helplessness among Jews and other minorities. Vast numbers of businesses were lost. Women saw their husbands arrested. Given the Gestapo surveillance apparatus, resistance was pursued with extreme caution. Anyone found trying to subvert the war effort or protect the ‘enemies’ of the Reich was shot or hanged.
In spite of the military successes, enthusiasm for the war among the German Volk was almost non-existent. It had been only 20 short years since the end of WWI and the Treaty of Versailles. The memories of dead husbands, fathers and sons were still fresh. It was a crime to openly criticize the war effort. For all these reasons, no one did. But many harbored their misgivings silently.
Christian and Anna, too, were hiding something. They conducted a masterful performance in hiding their relationship. When their paths crossed in public, they remained professional and polite, hardly daring to make eye contact. Fear of discovery was a constant threat and both worked diligently to keep it from showing in their behavior. At times, Anna felt that she was holding her breath through most of her hours at the hospital.
In May of 1940, something unexpected happened. Despite the rapid collapse of French resistance, the German High Command feared that the British Royal Air Force would resort to bombing raids. Because of this fear, nightly blackouts were begun in Berlin and other major industrial cities. Until this point, only far western areas had been bombed. But the High Command wasn’t taking any chances. In addition to blackouts, major cities were ringed with massive anti-aircraft instillations. Beginning May 15th, no electric lights were allowed on the streets or in buildings without black curtains or drapes. Street traffic was limited to walking or short auto rides requiring no headlights. All emergency facilities such as hospitals and police stations were equipped with heavy black window coverings.
Anna continued her work as a surgeon and had not allowed herself to follow the progress of the war. That began to change. Suddenly, she found herself looking at the newspapers, keenly interested in the ‘air war.’ While others associated the blackouts with the possibility of attacks and bodily harm, Anna looked at the situation almost as if it were an adventure. People who find themselves in love have an odd ability to overlook bombs and explosions.
For three months, Anna paid no attention to the Gestapo vehicle parked near her apartment. Like many others at that time, she knew the Gestapo conducted surveillance. She just wasn’t sure how it was done or if she was on the watch list. The threat of the Gestapo seemed like a thing of the past. She didn’t dwell on the idea. Instead, she concentrated on her love for Christian and her work. She spent long hours in her office, reviewing charts and talking with Theresa. They had looked diligently for listening devices but had never been unable to locate any. Still, they spoke confidentially and only in a small hallway between their offices. Anna regularly altered her schedule so that she had no real pattern to her comings and goings. She did not want to be easily observed. She kept unusual hours, even when she had no call obligations. Now, with the blackouts, she and Christian had almost total freedom of movement at night. Their fears of being detected simply vanished.
Theresa Schmidt had a three bedroom flat about ten blocks from the University. One of the bedrooms had a separate back entrance in case the renter wished to sub-let the room. She was aware that Anna and Christian ha
d no place for privacy and when she mentioned this to Anna, the couple felt that God had provided them a gift.
They set up an elaborate schedule to meet once each week. They always arrived at least an hour apart and left the same way. They never walked together, never took the same route. But they had no trouble remembering specific dates and times.
Theresa always tried to place a bottle of wine in the room. She and her husband Willi had always set aside one evening each week for dinner and a bottle of wine. The murder of her Willi robbed her of so many things. But their weekly dinner dates were what she missed the most. Perhaps this was why she took such delight in helping Anna and Christian find a time and a place to be together.
They kept the only two keys to the outside door. The room was on the ground floor of a two story flat so they felt somewhat secluded. But they continued to remind each other to stay quiet.
Anna tried not to think about a private time with Christian. They had been in love for more than a year but had never spent more than two hours together alone. Most of their contact was still at the hospital. Anna hated the war and the squalid Nazi Reich responsible for keeping her away from an open relationship with the man she loved. But she was grateful for the blackouts. They seemed a gift of fate. The Hitler oligarchy that was putting her at greater and greater risk now provided her with the one thing it had attempted to deny her.
It was now early June. The blackouts had continued for the past month. Anna was in love. But as yet, she had no lover. Their first meeting was this very night. She felt nervous but excited. The wait in the surgical lounge seemed like an eternity. She read journals and fidgeted. Finally, it was nine o’clock. She took a back stairway down to the hospital basement then out a little used back entrance. It was very dark outside with low cloud cover. She proceeded to walk quickly the three blocks east on Behrenstrasse, then turned south on Freidrichstrasse and walked the last four blocks to Theresa’s flat. Anna had taken the route a dozen times in different ways and knew every kilometer. The streets were deserted. She put the key in the lock. As it turned, she was suddenly startled by the loud ‘click’. It sounded like a gunshot in the still night. Then she was inside, the door locked behind her. Heavy drapes were pulled closed against the window and the room was lit only by a small bulb in the bathroom. The door was slightly ajar and projected a small stream of light from the bathroom to the opposite wall. The wall appeared as if a white line had been painted on it. She could make out the bed, the table and two chairs. Theresa had placed the wine and glasses on the table. Anna smiled, grateful for Theresa’s friendship. She tossed her lab coat across the bed and stared at it. Somehow, in the dim light, she could see her embroidered name on the white fabric. It was oddly comforting. Even in these dark and troubled times, she still had a name.