by Donald Hunt
She sat in silence for an hour. She trained her ear to the window and listened to the street noises. She heard an occasional voice in the next apartment. She heard someone walk past her door. She heard the faint opening and closing of a door down the hall. Heidi suddenly felt nauseated and went into the toilet. She splashed cold water onto her face. Another hour passed. It was just after seven in the evening when she heard the heavy boots. Someone was walking toward her door. Then she heard the knock.
“Police! Open!”
The voice was gruff and traveled like a gun shot through the first floor of the apartment. No one opened a door. Slowly Heidi stood. Then she walked to the door and opened it. Two Gestapo officers entered, a lieutenant and a captain. The senior officer turned to her.
“Anna Eichenwald?”
She opened her mouth to speak and formed the word ‘yes’ but she wasn’t sure if any sound came from her throat.
“Doctor Anna Eichenwald?”
This time she took a deep breath and responded, “yes.”
“You are under arrest!”
Chapter 19
Buchenwald Prison
The ride to the central prison in Leipzig was short, about 15 minutes. Anna, in handcuffs, rode in the back of the Gestapo car with the captain. She was numb. She said nothing. Once at the prison, she was searched by a female guard while her paperwork was completed. It was now almost 8:00 p.m. Her clothes were confiscated along with her wristwatch and the small diamond ring Christian had given her. She was handed a prison dress of course burlap and still cuffed, led down a long corridor through a steel door. It opened to a concrete downward stairway. At the bottom of the stairs was another steel door that opened onto a long corridor leading to a basement cell block.
The cell block consisted of 20 individual cells lined 10 on each side, each one 15’ by 20’ with a single cot, lavatory and toilet. The corridor was strung with four light bulbs hanging equidistant down the hallway. This was the only lighting. For reasons that were unclear, Anna was the only prisoner being kept in that area. There were no outside windows and the only door was the one through which she entered. She noticed two floor drains centered on either end of the corridor. There was a high-pressure hose mounted on the wall at the far end of it. As she entered the end cell on the right, she was given a blanket and a cup of water. It did not enter her mind that this cell block was often used to torture prisoners with the high-pressure hose.
The handcuffs were removed by a female guard and her accomplice, a tall middle-aged man she called Gerhard. They closed and locked the cell door without a word. The last thing Anna heard was the loud ‘click’ of the steel door being locked.
Anna lay in silence on the cot and took in the musty smell of the damp basement. As her mind began to sort out what had happened, her eyes filled with tears. She thought of her parents and happier times in Berlin. Along with her childhood friend Erin Nitschmann, she had committed to memory several of the ancient Hebrew Scripture verses. Silently she recited one from Isaiah… ‘So justice is far from us, and righteousness does not reach us. We look for light, but all is darkness; for brightness, but we walk in deep shadows.’
Anna knew the war was in its final stages. She would have to hope that the repugnant cataclysm that was the Nazi Reich would soon run its course. Surely their priority of creating a ‘Jew-free’ Europe was no longer a possibility as the Nazis were facing certain defeat.
She had lived through the horrors of the ‘Night of Broken Glass’, but she reminded herself that she had been spared arrest because she had saved the life of an SS officer. A Jew who had once evaded capture was now a prisoner. What kind of violence lay ahead for her?
The Wannsee Conference of January 1942, had established firmly the Nazi pogrom for the ‘Final Solution to the Jewish Question’. She was well aware of the death camps in Poland and the official Nazi policy to work Jews to death. But in the midst of all of the uncertainty she held out hope for survival.
Anna drifted in and out of sleep. She was vaguely aware of what sounded like rats, so she pulled the blanket over her head. During the night she thought of Sarah. Anna had always known the likelihood of her fate, that the Gestapo would find her. If only she could say a last fare-well to her dear friend Sarah, but she knew this was impossible.
With no windows, Anna had no way to determine time. Had five minutes passed or five hours? She couldn’t know if dawn was breaking. She could only confirm that she was cold and scared.
The bolt on the steel door disengaged. A short, overweight private in thick glasses walked to her cell, and then placed a bowl and cup at the pass-through. The bowl contained a boiled egg and a stale piece of bread. The cup held water. As the private turned to leave, he spoke to her.
“You will be seen by the captain in one hour.”
Otto Lang had risen through the ranks of the Einsatzgruppen, the paramilitary killing arm of the SS. He had originally been part of a death squad that followed the Wehrmacht into Russia during Operation Barbarossa. Because he had shown significant leadership qualities, he was given a commission of lieutenant. He was transferred back to Germany after the failure of the Russian invasion, and believed that the war was lost. He never discussed his thoughts with anyone. Like others in the SS, he was now working in the Gestapo and had lost his taste for killing. But he intended to do his duty until the war ended. He had always been uneasy with the killing and now he was beginning to believe that he and the thousands involved would someday answer for it.
Lang was serving as the commander of the Gestapo unit in Leipzig when Anna was arrested. A routine communication to the SS headquarters in Berlin was quickly followed by a request for her interrogation and transfer to the Buchenwald work camp, some 100 kilometers southwest of Leipzig near Weimar. The call had come from one of Himmler’s aides. It gave Lang the impression that Anna Eichenwald was no ordinary Jew.
At 9:17 a.m., Anna was taken to the top floor of the three-story prison building and into Lang’s office. He had not yet received her dossier from Berlin. As she was brought in, Lang was startled by her beauty. Even the fatigue and fear on her face could not disguise her loveliness.
“Sit,” he said with a motion. “Do you want coffee?”
Anna was numb to the surprise. She only shook her head.
Lang sat down behind his desk and glanced at his aide who stood by ready to take notes. “Why are you in Leipzig?”
“To work in the hospital.”
“And where did you come from?”
“Berlin.”
“And your work in Berlin?”
“I was an attending surgeon at the University Medical Center.”
Lang paused. “Do you have family in Germany?”
He knew she would not confirm this even if she had 50 members of her clan still there.
“No.”
Again, Lang paused.“If you lie to me,” he said softly, “it will go much harder on you. Have you ever been involved with the underground?”
Anna did not hesitate. Her blue eyes stared back at him, piercing and certain. “I have not,” she said defiantly.
“Where did you get your false papers?”
This time Anna paused, but only briefly. “From a fellow surgeon at the University.”
“And this fellow’s name?”
Anna looked down. She was losing her resolve. Her voice broke. “Christian Engel.”
“So he was willing to break the law to help you? And where is he now?”
“He’s dead. He was killed by an Allied bomb.”
Lang had no information that Anna had ties to the resistance. Still, he wanted to find out more about what she had been doing and who her friends might be. Anna was just as determined to tell him nothing. She would not connect herself to Sarah or the resistance movement.
“Who are your friends here in Leipzig?”
Anna
knew the Gestapo was searching her flat even as they were speaking. She also knew there was nothing there to tie her to Landis Koller and the underground. But she felt a rising concern that there might be some kind of reference to Sarah. Had she made any mistakes? Had she kept a card or a note with Sarah’s name on it?
“I kept to myself,” she responded. “I was not willing to have anyone risk becoming friends with a Jew.”
Lang had no way of knowing if Anna was telling the truth. He would now be forced to wait on the search of her flat and the report from interviews with those who knew her at the hospital. He was certain of one thing. He was not prepared to have her stripped naked and assaulted with the high pressure hose to try and break her. He was convinced that in the long run, this tactic would not help Germany, especially when this woman was headed to Buchenwald. He looked at her.
“That’s all,” he said tersely. “You may go.” Lang turned to his aide, sergeant Leibbrant. “Have your notes typed and on my desk in the morning, and send a copy to SS headquarters in Berlin. A copy will need to accompany her as well.”
“Ja, Captain,” the sergeant replied.
He stood at attention and snapped his heals together. Anna looked at him and then at Lang. She had no idea where she was going.
* * *
Sarah Engel had a sense that something was wrong. She had tried to contact Heidi the night before. The following morning she called the hospital from her office in the bank and found that Heidi had not shown up for work. She could not risk going to Heidi’s flat, but realized that if Heidi had been arrested, the Gestapo might easily connect the two women. Sarah knew she must get rid of the short-wave transmitter. She also knew that time was short. It would be too risky to contact Landis or anyone in the resistance. She had no one to help her. Then she thought about a possible exception. Sarah knew of a woman in her church who had helped a Jewish couple escape.
Werner and Maria Schmidt were the only people in Leipzig, outside of those in the resistance, whom Sarah Engel felt she could trust. Werner was the pastor of the Bethany Lutheran Church and had studied theology under Dietrich Bonhoeffer in Berlin. He and wife Maria moved to Leipzig in 1934. They were aware of Bonhoeffer’s activity in the underground, activity that had gotten him arrested. The Schmidt’s had not been active in the resistance but had helped several Jewish couples escape before 1941. Werner had been very concerned about his friend and mentor. He was hoping that Bonhoeffer’s life would be spared because he was such a respected theologian. Werner was also aware that the Nazis were unpredictable. Although an ardent anti-Nazi, Werner had been reluctant to speak out publicly against Hitler. He was not afraid. But he believed he could be more valuable to God out of prison than in it. There were times when he felt guilty regarding this stance. But he had made his decision.
Maria was a courageous woman. She had been arrested in 1939 for being publicly critical of the war and Nazi anti-Semitism. She spent four months in the Leipzig prison and was released through the efforts of her husband and a local bishop. Maria had once told Sarah about her experience. For the first month in prison she felt there was a great evil presence in her cell. She had prayed against the evil, singing hymns for comfort. One morning after praying through the night, she had experienced the delivery of this evil from her cell. She believed God had exorcised it. She then experienced what she later described as a ‘blessed peace’ in her cell.
Sarah felt that if anyone could help it would be Maria Schmidt. On her way home from the bank, Sarah took a detour and headed for the church parsonage. Maria was baking bread and welcomed her friend inside. Werner was upstairs in his study.
Briefly, Sarah explained her fears to Maria.
“Let me get Werner,” Maria said quickly. “We can help. I’ll put on some water for tea.”
When Maria returned with Werner, the two listened intently as Sarah explained what she believed had happened. The Schmidt’s had not known of Sarah’s involvement with the resistance. Still, they were not surprised. Werner took Sarah’s hand.
“The short-wave set must be moved tonight,” he said.
“But how?” moaned Sarah. “The Gestapo is probably watching my place even now.”
Maria thought for a moment. “How large is the set?”
Sarah had measured it more than once and was ready with her answer. “It is about 60 centimeters long and 20 wide.”
“I think it will fit just fine in our old baby carriage,” Werner said to Maria.
“You know, my dear, I think you’re right.”
Maria turned back to Sarah. “I’ll be at your apartment in an hour to show you our six-month old grand- daughter.”
“I didn’t realize you had a six-month old grand-daughter.”
Maria smiled, “We don’t!”
The soft knock at the door was expected, but still it made Sarah jump. She opened the door slightly to make certain it was Maria. The baby carriage was old. But Maria was sentimental about such things and had used the church basement for storage of the buggy and a number of other items of memorabilia. The carriage was packed with two blankets and a small pillow. Sarah had brought the transmitter down from the attic and placed it in a closet. She was growing increasingly apprehensive. She’d been using the receiver for more than two years, but had never fully appreciated the danger involved. Now she did. Possession of a short wave transmitter was a death sentence, a bullet in the head or a public hanging.
“Maria, you should probably stay for a while, say half an hour.” Maria agreed.
“We need to get the transmitter loaded into the carriage to make certain it will fit. Then we will pray.”
Sarah went to the closet and lifted the six-pound set. The women removed the pillow and blankets and placed the transmitter-receiver into the carriage. They covered it with the blankets. It made for a very large baby so they took one blanket and the pillow out.
Sarah sighed.
“If anyone looks carefully, there’s going to be a problem.”
The two women sat on the sofa and said little. They were thinking the same thoughts. Only the grace of God could deliver them from the evil surrounding them.
Twenty minutes passed. They prayed together, then Maria put her hands on the carriage and headed out the door. She reached the end of the street. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed a military auto with a Swastika on the side. It was parked in front of Sarah’s apartment. Maria took in a deeper breath. She continued walking. She crossed the street and kept her eyes away from the auto, too afraid to look. But after only a few steps, she could no longer keep her eyes away. She looked. Two officers were getting out of the car and walking toward the apartment building entrance. Maria continued walking un-noticed.
* * *
Anna was still trying to come to grips with her arrest. She had worked very hard to conceal her true identity. Then a chance encounter had blown her cover. Ironically, this had been done by someone who had benefited from Anna’s work as a doctor. The mother of the child she had helped was likely one of the minority of Germans who did not live and function in the world of Nazi anti-Semitism. Even more likely, she did not concern herself with the race of the skilled surgeon who had saved the life of her child. Unknowingly she may now have sent her heroine to certain death.
The cell seemed colder. Anna spent the afternoon on the cot, which was actually wooden cross slats on a metal frame. She placed a portion of the blanket underneath her as a cushion. Now she was focused on where she might be going. She had learned through Sarah that the death camps in Poland had been shut down. A work-concentration camp in Germany was her likely destination. At 44, Anna was in good health and relatively young. The war would be over in a matter of months. She would survive. She would see her parents again. As she lay in the cell, originally a torture chamber, she began to smile. She fantasized that she would go to England without contacting her parents and simply nock on their d
oor. As she played this scenario out in her mind, she began to laugh.
Corporal Muller, the soldier who had accompanied her female guard, brought her afternoon meal. Muller had been at the prison for about a year. He was turning 50, an old age for a corporal. But there was a reason. He had joined the military in 1934, a year after the Nazis came to power. He was uneducated but made a good soldier except for one problem. Muller liked to drink. He eventually rose to the rank of master-sergeant and became a gunnery-sergeant in a Panzer tank as part of the 5th Panzer Division. He was in multiple battles on the Eastern Front, but was sent back to Germany and demoted to corporal after his second episode of being drunk on duty. He was given a job with little responsibility with the understanding that further problems would result in a court martial.
Muller had been married as a young man. He and his wife had a son. But within three years, his wife left him because of his drinking and took the boy with her. Muller was now a bitter man, bitter toward his ex-wife and women in general.
That evening, Muller walked slowly down the basement cell block corridor with Anna’s evening meal. It consisted of a bowl of potato soup and a hard roll. As he approached Anna’s cell he kneeled down to slide the tray through the slot. Anna sat up and began to walk toward the meal tray. He stood watching her, not taking his eyes off of her. She knelt down to pick up the tray. His eyes followed her back to the bunk. He continued watching her, and Anna began to feel very uncomfortable. She looked down as she finished. When she looked up, he was gone.
Anna returned the tray to the cell door and slid it through the slot. It would be collected in the morning. She hoped she would soon be transported. The lack of sunlight only deepened Anna’s discouragement.
* * *
The knock on Sarah’s door was sharp. “Police, open!” barked the Gestapo officer.
Sarah quickly walked to the door, took a deep breath and opened it. She had made a diligent search of her apartment when she feared Anna had been arrested and had burned everything that might tie her to her friend. If they knew of Christian they could connect Sarah to the two and claim Sarah knew Heidi was Jewish. The Gestapo tactic was always to intimidate, but they had to have evidence.