by Donald Hunt
Many of the great cities had been almost completely destroyed. Most prominent were Warsaw and Berlin where millions were now homeless. The ruin of the physical infrastructure was devastating but the nadir of economic collapse was worse. One of the harshest consequences was food shortage. The effort to prevent massive starvation was the greatest challenge.
Beryl Yenzer resided in a tent adjacent to the children’s section at the camp. The boys in the camp knew him well and the workers soon learned to utilize the skills of the former schoolmaster. He continued to keep Eric with him and when entering the camp had registered Eric as his son. Eric and the other boys had felt the dissonance lift as soon as they were transported out of Buchenwald. In one day, the fear was gone. They were treated with kindness. Most still realized they were stranded, but now they were stranded in a safe place among people who seemed to care about them.
Beryl faced great uncertainty, but he was no longer under a death sentence. Still, his family was now only a memory and he understood full well that there would be no Jewish community left in Poland or much of anywhere in Europe. There were very few adult Jewish survivors of the Nazi oligarchy and probably less than 3,000 children across the continent. There would be no children to teach in Poland and there might not be work of any kind. But he was not discouraged. He would find a way to survive and provide for Eric. To that end, he was determined to leave the camp as soon as possible. He wanted to go home. But Poland was now occupied by Russia and the Bolsheviks allowed little personal freedom. Most people worked in state-controlled jobs. Beryl was also concerned that the Communists might make it difficult for Jews to practice their faith. The worship of Yahweh had been built into the fabric of his life. Now he also had the responsibility of a four-year old boy. His desire was to teach Eric the Jewish traditions of Rash Hashanah, Yom Kippur and Passover, as his father had taught him. But he was not sure if he could do it in a communist state.
He had studied to become a Rabbi as a young man, which led to his position as the headmaster of a Yeshiva. Now that they were safe, he spent many hours trying to sort out the meaning of what had happened to his people, or to consider if there was any meaning left at all. He questioned where the justice of God had been in a time and place of such grave human suffering. He wondered if God had abandoned the innocent, those he considered God’s own people. He wondered if God had lost control.
For thousands of years the Lord had worked in the lives of his people and in the lives of the Patriarchs, and had never abandoned the Jews. God had not abandoned him or the boys. In fact, God had preserved thousands of his people and almost all of the boys in Buchenwald. At heart, Beryl believed in the justice of God even in the face of great human suffering. But the Nazi pogrom had brought about unimaginable death and suffering. Now he had questions he had never asked himself about the omniscience of the Almighty.
He thought back to the story of Job who faced the great enigma of being a godly man, but a man who underwent great suffering. Job had questioned God. Beryl recalled the Lord’s words to Job.
Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundation? Tell me if you understand. Who marked off its dimensions? Surly you know. Who stretched a measuring line across it?
Have you ever given orders to the morning, or shown the dawn its place. Have you comprehended the vast expanses of the earth? Tell me if you know all this.
What is the way to the place where the lightning is dispersed, or the place where the east winds are scattered over the earth?
Who endowed the heart with wisdom or gave understanding to the mind?
Will the one who contends with the Almighty correct him? Let him who accuses
God answer him!
Beryl, like Job, had no answer. He could only trust that the Creator of the Universe had control of all history and was working in history, even using men’s evil intentions. In spite of all that had happened, Beryl had not lost his trust in the God of his forefathers who had delivered his people from Egypt and him from Hitler’s death camps. Human suffering had occurred throughout history, and God was still God. Job’s understanding was now Beryl’s understanding. The Creator of the Universe is sovereign, and His ways are not our ways. His plans are not our plans. Beryl had memorized several Psalms as a boy and recalled one of his favorite verses, even after the years of turmoil and emotional pain.
“Yet I am always with you; you hold me by my right hand. You guide me with your counsel, and afterward you will take me into glory. Whom have I in heaven but you? And earth has nothing I desire besides you. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.”
Chapter 23
A Desperate Search and VJ Day
By now, Germany was a shell, the paradigm of a dead carcass. Most of her larger cities were in ruins. Leipzig and those cities which managed to remain physically intact were nothing more than defined boundaries in which emotionally scarred people existed. The circumstances in which the German people now found themselves were difficult to comprehend, if not impossible. In retrospect, it would eventually be easier for them to see how this had occurred rather than why.
In 1918, the Kaiser was forced to abdicate his so-called throne. Massive inflation and unemployment was followed by rioting and civil unrest. Almost by accident, Germany became a republic. For the first time in almost 1,000 years, Germany had no king. They were like sheep without a shepherd – until one emerged, one who would lead them to slaughter and eventual cataclysm. Given the man’s legendary power and charisma, he emerged quite subtly, bearing a name few people even knew. But exponentially, his power and influence widened. Suddenly the sheep were trapped in an economic nadir. That’s when they began to listen. And in time, their shepherd’s voice was the only one they could hear. The sophistry of his reasoning and the repulsion it should have warranted was lost in their desperation. Fear turned it into a symphony. But now, the music was dead, and the piper had been paid.
Sarah and Anna had miraculously avoided the conflagration, although Anna had been much closer to the flames. These two women were fortunate and well on their way to emotional recovery. Sarah was focused on rebuilding her devastated country. Anna, on the other hand, was looking for Eric.
By the first week of June, three weeks after the Nazi surrender, a sense of peace was beginning to invade what had been chaotic for so long. Sarah had contacted Landis Koller to see if he could help Anna in her effort to reach Dresden.
It was a warm Wednesday evening when he pulled up to Sarah’s apartment in a truck that looked vaguely familiar to the women. As he stepped out of the truck, Anna and Sarah ran down the apartment stairs to greet him. With a wide grin he embraced them. They were comrades-in-arms. They had fought together and escaped death together. Landis was invited inside for coffee and pastries. As they made their way up the stairs, he looked back at the truck.
“Do you recognize my transportation?” he asked, looking at Anna. “It survived the war!”
She replied laughing, “It looks remarkably good, as do you.”
Anna had felt strangely attracted to this brave man. She thought at the time it was the danger they had gone through together. She had not thought of him in many months, but was pleased to see him and surprised that the attraction was still there.
“How are Gretchen and your children?” she asked as they entered the apartment. He turned toward her and smiled. He had known her as Heidi Brendler. Now she was Anna.
“Thank you for asking. They are well. As with most Germans we are trying to pick up the pieces…to put out lives back together.”
The three colleagues sat in the front room and enjoyed their refreshments and the conversation. Landis had lost track of Anna and was not surprised by her stories of Buchenwald. He had heard of the labor camps and knew of the cruelty. But he was astonished by the story of her ‘execution’ at the hands of Ernst Bishoff.
“Sounds like divi
ne intervention, doesn’t it?” he said, looking at Sarah.
Landis now had no job. The ball bearing plant had been destroyed. He told the women he was hoping to find work in the re-building effort. His wife’s parents were farmers about 100 kilometers north of Leipzig. He knew he could move his family to their farm but was too proud to ask. Still it was a possibility. His goal was to get his children into university. He was fascinated to learn that Anna was a surgeon. This beautiful woman with the raven hair and blue eyes had actually been a teaching surgeon at the University of Berlin. Remarkable, he thought.
They spent hours recapping their histories – the scrapes with the Nazis and the upcoming plan to get Anna to Dresden. Landis was pleased to be able to help. After all, Anna had given the truck for the resistance effort. Without her generosity he would have no transportation. He offered for her to drive.
“You survived the Gestapo and now you want to commit suicide?” she asked with a laugh.
Early on Saturday they set out for Dresden. There was one military check point outside of Leipzig and there, Landis got directions to the Red Cross camp. Since Germany’s surrender the travel security had relaxed significantly. They were pleased that Leipzig was allied occupied. They had heard the Russians were harsh taskmasters.
Just before reaching Dresden they encountered a Russian check point indicating they were entering Russian occupied territory. All of Poland, the Czech Republic, Eastern Germany and East Berlin were controlled by the Russians. Here, there was a notable change in atmosphere. The troops were less co-operative and more suspicious. The travelers were questioned in detail about their business in Dresden, their destination and estimated time to be spent there. Anna was relieved when they were finally on their way again.
Dresden was the baroque capitol of the German State of Saxony. Before the war it had been the fourth largest city in the country, a cultural center that sprawled out from the banks of the Elbe River. The architecture and multiple green parks had given it the title, Florence on the Elbe. But Dresden had been made a military-industrial complex with more than 100 factories to support the war effort, employing 50,000 workers. Many were slave laborers brought in from Poland and Czechoslovakia. In February 1945, Allied planes dropped 4,000 tons of explosives in four separate raids. There was mass destruction of the city and an estimated 40,000 casualties.
Anna and Landis were directed to the refugee camp northwest of the city near the village of Kaditz. As they crested a hill, they had a view of the massive 100-acre complex sprawling along the river. From the hill top the white tents looked like mushrooms in a valley of green. They seemed endless. Anna was apprehensive, her heart pounding. She was trying not to get her hopes up.
The camp was just five kilometers from the Dresden airfield which had escaped destruction only because it wasn’t a military facility. Twice weekly, 25 tons of food and supplies was flown in from England. There were some 10 other refugee camps set up in central and eastern Europe as well, since tens of thousands of refugees were making their way back to their homes and families. Bus transportation was being set up between the major metropolitan centers of Europe and economic aid was coming in. But it was in woefully short supply. All of the major economic powers of the world had been involved in the war, and all but the U.S. had no reserves and the U.S. was still fighting Japan.
Just after noon, Landis pulled the truck up to the make-shift administration tent. It was actually one of three tents that held about 40 aid workers overseeing the camp. The central tent held the Red Cross emblem on top. Portable wooden flooring had been placed on the ground to keep dust or mud to a minimum, depending on the weather. The tent ceiling leaked significantly when it rained. There were standing electric fans strategically placed to keep air circulating.
Anna and Landis were asked to take a seat with more than a dozen others who were making efforts to locate missing loved ones. After an hour’s wait, a middle-aged Swiss woman came to get them. In fluent German she asked them to come into her cubicle. As registrar of the camp, she was responsible for tracking everyone on the premises. She sat behind a large table set between oversized filing cabinets. Anna and Landis sat across from her. The woman smiled faintly but her voice was tired.
“So how can I help you?” she asked.
“We are looking for a young Jewish boy named Eric,” said Anna. “He would be about four or five years old. He is an orphan.”
“Do you know his last name?” “No, I’m sorry. I don’t.”
“There are about 1,200 children in the camp,” said the woman. “I can go through the roster but it will take some time.”
Without speaking further she opened a file drawer and placed a thick folder on her desk and began scanning the names. After a few minutes she spoke without looking up.
“Here is an Erick Konipinski. He is listed as age 10.” She continued her search. “Erick Rabii. Listed as age 13.” She scanned another ten pages. “There are no other boys named Erick.”
Anna looked down for a moment. Then it occurred to her.
“Could you look for two adult names? Julian Richburg or Beryl Yenzer?” There were 40,000 men in the camp, but the names were alphabetical. The woman handed Anna a stack of papers with names and gave another stack to Landis. They both began scouring the lists.
“Here he is!” Anna cried out. “He is with Beryl Yenzer. Landis, he is here!” She handed the sheet to the woman.
“There is an indication that they have actually left the camp….just last week,” the woman said.
“Left? Are you certain?” “Yes. Quiet certain.”
“Is there any indication of their destination?”
The woman again looked at the sheet, then pulled out another file of people who had left or died.
“Poland. It seems they went to Poland.”
Anna was crushed. She knew finding them in war ravaged Poland would be impossible. It could take years to conduct such a search.
“Landis, let’s go back,” she whispered.
As they stood to leave, Anna paused at the door. “Thank you. You have been very helpful.”
* * *
Enrico Fermi and Robert Oppenheimer met in 1926 when Oppenheimer traveled from the U.S. to study physics at the University of Gottingen. The two became friends along with other notable men including Werner Heisenberg, Wolfgang Pauli and Edward Teller. Oppenheimer had an exceptional intellect. He completed his PhD. at age 22, under the direction of Max Born, the noted German mathematician and Director of Theoretical Physics at Gottingen.
Eventually Oppenheimer accepted a teaching professorship at Cal-Berkley. His career was interrupted when he was diagnosed with mild tuberculosis. He traveled to northern New Mexico to recover and fell in love with the high desert country. He had wide ranging scientific interests including theoretical astronomy, quantum field theory, nuclear physics and spectroscopy. After returning to Berkley he worked with and became close friends with Earnest O. Lawrence, the principle developer of the cyclotron.
Later, Oppenheimer developed the first world class center in the U.S. for theoretical physics. His esteem as a physicist grew, along with his reputation for being an eccentric. A tall, gangly man who was rail thin with sharp features and blue eyes, his demeanor was almost disarming, but women found him charming and attentive. At parties, he was often the center piece, engaging to anyone and everyone simultaneously. But on a personal level he remained aloof and detached. He did not read newspapers or periodicals and, in fact, was unaware of the great stock market crash of 1929 until several weeks after it happened.
Oppenheimer began to change in 1936. Deeply disturbed by the Nazi treatment of the Jews and aware of the effect the depression was having on his students he began to develop an interest in communism. He became involved with communist sympathizers and in the summer of 1939, met his future wife, Kitty. A petite, brown-eyed beauty, she was involved in communist activities
. Her late husband, Joe Dallet, had been a communist party official before meeting his death fighting in the Spanish Civil War.
In October 1942, Oppenheimer met a man who would radically alter the course of his life. Earlier that year, General Leslie Groves had been appointed the director of a highly secretive project aimed at developing a nuclear explosive device - an atomic bomb. In 1941, the Army Corps of Engineers took over the project. Groves was an engineer by training and had overseen the construction of the Pentagon. The central office of the North Atlantic Division of the Corps of Engineers was in Manhattan. Groves named the project ‘Manhattan Engineer District’ which was later shortened to the Manhattan Project.
Groves’ first priority was to find a scientific director. He considered several people but it was Oppenheimer who impressed him the most. Groves considered the man to be the one true genius of the group.
To be sure, Oppenheimer was a brilliant theoretician. But he had virtually no experience leading any scientific project and certainly no project of this magnitude. Still, Groves looked to Oppenheimer to lead. During their first extended visit, Oppenheimer stressed the need for a central laboratory where the best minds could freely attack and discuss multiple problems, many of which had never even been considered. Groves saw the idea of a central lab as an excellent one and now believed he had the man to run it.
There were two principle objections to this brash young physicist – his association with the Communist party and the fact he was not a Nobel Laureate. Several of the men he would be overseeing were Nobel Prize winners. However, Groves thought both objections were bogus. He presented Oppenheimer’s name to the Military Policy Committee and there were objections. No one could come up with a better candidate.