Buffalo, May 11, 1946
My very dearest Gerda,
A few days have gone by without bringing the longed-for news. I’ve made an attempt to expedite the matter by urgently wiring the State Department about it. No response to that either so far. I really could use some proof of how urgent the matter is on your end. That’s why it would be best if you could send me a cable stating the following: “Will have to return to Germany or Poland if you cannot come within two weeks.”
I have no idea whether it’ll become necessary to make use of such a cable, but I’d like to have it on hand if worse comes to worst. Meanwhile there are a few other things I’m also going to try. I was informed at the time I applied for my passport that it could take this long, but I had hoped that instead of four weeks, it would only be two, as is sometimes the case.
Apparently you never received the hundred dollars I sent you. In case the money still hasn’t arrived by the time you get this, please advise, so that I can put in a claim. As to Mr. Louis, I suppose the time is drawing close when he will return to Paris, and I’m still not there! As depressing as all this waiting around is, it could conceivably change in a jiffy. But frankly the uncertainty gets on my nerves at the moment, and I can well imagine how you must feel about it. Our patience is really being tested to the limit, and I hope never again to have to wait for anything in this manner! It’s only when I hold you in my arms that everything will be compensated for and we’ll be able to put it behind us, Gerda.
My cousin from England finally arrived last Wednesday. All this time she was waiting in vain for a ship for herself and her two young children. Finally she succeeded in getting airline reservations. She spent a few days in New York, but I’m expecting to speak to her either today or tomorrow, at which time I’ll get a direct report on Mr. Louis’s visit at her home. I’m so glad that she still made it here before I have to leave, because it should be highly interesting to find out what happened in her life since the time I last saw her. You know, she and her husband treated me wonderfully well when I was in England during the war. I like both of them a lot. Their home has become a clearinghouse for all sorts of international visitors. I heard that my cousin, who is in the Palestine Brigade of the British Army along with his wife, recently paid a visit there. That’s how it went with many relatives and acquaintances who found themselves in the British Isles during the war years.
So much for my report today. Meanwhile, a thousand kisses and the hope of holding you in my arms soon,
Kurt
Buffalo, May 13, 1946
My dearest Gerda,
Just today, when my thoughts harked back to that other May 13—when you were so critically ill in the hospital and I could at last see you again—your three wonderful and content-heavy letters of early May arrived, along with your poetic declaration of why and how it came about that at your instigation my heart became the target of a certain archer named Cupid. He may well gloat over his success, but believe me, so do I. That should teach you that “he who sets a trap for someone else, is likely to fall into it himself.”* I think you really outsmarted yourself on that one.
I want to give you a status report. I called the Passport Division in Washington today. You can’t ever pin them down on anything, of course, but I was advised that I can either expect an answer within two to three days, or I’ll get the passport within that time. That’ll make it over four weeks since I applied; they have been the longest four weeks of my life. It might work out to the twenty-second, although I hesitate to set any more dates.
All my love,
Kurt
Buffalo, May 16, 1946
My very dearest Gerda,
All that I can tell you today is already summarized in the cable I sent earlier, notifying you that my passport came through! The tension will be lifted only when I hold you securely in my arms and determine whether it’s really you. Whatever still lies between then and now will pass like a dream, at the end of which I will behold your beloved face and, united with you, will face a sunny future.
Apparently my phone call to Washington helped after all. I received a call at work, apprising me in the most dramatic fashion that the passport had arrived. And that’s the only thing I could grasp coherently. My duds are packed, a few more good-byes, and then it’s off to New York tomorrow. There the formalities should take only about two or three days. Then I ought to be able to catch a flight anytime after that.
Above all I want to avoid having to disappoint you again, so why don’t you pretend that I won’t get a seat on a flight right away. Should it go faster, well, all the better! I am going to try to let you know my exact arrival by cable, but it’s always possible that I won’t have sufficient time to do that, depending on developments. If I then stand in front of you, you’ll be justified to be angry at me and you can vent your entire rage on me—okay?
By the way I will also keep Mr. Louis up-to-date. So far my passport has not been issued to include travel to Turkey. The answer I got was that that has to be taken care of in France. So let’s hope!
I’m incapable now of writing a lot of trivia. You’ll be hearing from me once I’m in New York. Everything else “orally,” even without words. Just be sure to leave the door open, because if by chance nobody should be there when I arrive, I’d only have to turn around and go back. Or is it possible you’re going to make an exception in this case by staying home?
Until I press that bell then, I am, with a real passionate kiss,
Your happy
Kurt
New York City, May 18, 1946
My very dearest Gerda,
I hope you correctly understood the cable I sent today and that you didn’t encounter too many obstacles in trying to follow my directions. So let me give you a brief recap of the last few hours.
I arrived in New York last night and paid a visit to the various authorities this morning. At the French consulate I was convinced that I practically had the visa in hand, only to find that there is a new regulation, according to which you have to apply at the Paris city hall for a certificate, which you will have to send to me, providing proof of the fact that our banns have been posted.* I realize that you once mentioned you could do nothing of the sort without my presence there. The claim here is, however, that all those who have the intent to marry have to go through the same procedure. I can only hope that your authorities over there are as well informed as their representatives here like to create the impression they are.
This danged hitch will cost us at least one week, quite aside from the apprehension of whether they will actually issue such a certificate, etc. With some luck I could still be with you by next weekend. As to the airline seat, things appear somewhat better. I’m being waitlisted and have to be ready to go at any moment. But the travel agent didn’t think it would take longer than three days for me to get on a flight. Perhaps it’ll go even faster. Should Mr. Louis have returned to Paris by now, please tell him that I unfortunately won’t be able to make it by May 22.
I did get a transit visa for England from the British consulate, but Palestine is out of the question due to the current friction. The same holds true for Egypt, so we have to put our faith in the fact that nothing further lies in the path of a trip to Turkey, once I’m in France. As mentioned, we’ll have to attempt those steps through the American embassy in Paris. Kisses until next week,
Kurt
Paris, May 20, 1946
My Dearest,
I find it very difficult to start this letter and with it a new phase of our correspondence. Unfortunately, as we both know so well, things in life don’t always go as we want them to go.
Received your cable today that states that the news from Washington condemns us to two more weeks of waiting. I just feel so badly that you have left your job and have to stay in New York for the duration of that time. But being with the family, and especially with the children, should make you happy.
Your message came like an ice-cold shower, dashing our hopes again. The first thing I
did was to try to get an SOS to Mr. Louis in Switzerland. I called the Hôtel Metropol, only to be told that he had checked out. I knew that he was going on to London but didn’t know where he was staying there. As soon as I put the phone down in dismay, it rang. Imagine my surprise and delight to hear Mr. Louis’s voice! Where was he calling from? Paris! He decided to stop over here for a day to see how I was doing. Can you imagine that?
So you see, we are no longer alone in our battle. An hour later he was with me, and since then we’ve spent the entire time in taxis, running from office to office, to the Préfecture again and again, trying above all to put my papers in order. What I can’t understand regarding my papers is this: The officials certainly know that there was a war, that most people are DP’s, unable to get documents from their largely destroyed communities. I must be one of very few who has her original birth certificate. Still, you can’t imagine what difficulties I run into.
One plan we came up with would have you trying to get a visa for England, Switzerland, or Germany, with a transit visa through France. You could stop here then and we could get married. The French consulate in New York might get suspicious, however, and deny your visa completely, instead of merely delaying it. Mr. Louis says that we have to go about it in the most cautious manner. One misstep, and we will have to start all over again.
I’m so desperately sorry that you have to go through all that on my account and that I have to write in this vein. It will all work out, I’m sure. But I know how difficult it is to be confronted by a rigid and final “no.” I have faced it so many times in my life, never as bitterly as when I was confronted with it most recently in Germany, always accompanied by the officials’ derision. If only I could talk to you, if only I could call America and hear your voice. If we could reassure each other, it wouldn’t seem so bad. You must take comfort from the thought that I am no longer alone here, as I was in Germany. I have my uncle’s father-in-law, through whom he is accessible, though there is no phone service with Turkey yet. How I would love to hear my uncle’s voice after nine years!
Please, my love, you will see that something good will happen, perhaps sooner than we expect. Nobody in this world can say “no” to us, as long as we have said “yes” to each other. With that thought in mind we must go on. I’m grateful to God for having your love and I embrace you with many kisses.
Yours,
Gerda
It’s now a day later, and Mr. Louis delayed his journey to London to take care of some matters for Leo. Here is what he instructed me to tell you. He will wire you, but wants me to put it in a letter anyway.
Please have two copies made, certifying that you are single and will marry me. We have gone through all that, but now another agency wants it. On a separate paper, please give the names of your parents, with birth dates, etc.
Your most recent happy letter from Buffalo arrived, superseded now by your being in New York. I am convinced that all will turn out well in the end. In the process of waiting, I turned twenty-two last week. That means, if I could wait for you for twenty-two years, I certainly can wait a few more weeks. But you know, what really upsets me no end is that as soon as the French authorities hear that my fiancé is American, they come up with the nastiest remarks. That really hurts; I remember, on the other hand, your reports of the reception you Americans got when you liberated France! What a short memory those people have! When Mr. Louis saw me on the verge of tears on one occasion, he whispered in my ear, “You will see Kurt soon.”
I’ll leave you with that thought.
All my love,
Gerda
The most difficult aspect of my encounters with bureaucracy, especially when it came to the authorities in Germany, were the sneers and doubts implicit in the officials’ voices when I told them that my fiancé was an American who would marry me as soon as I could make it to the United States. I was up against such remarks as, “If your friend wanted to marry you, why didn’t he do so when he was here?” There would be a wealth of additional gratuitous advice, recommending that I stop deluding myself about this relationship. And other indignities were voiced after I would offer to show some of Kurt’s letters stating his intent to marry me. It would prompt the retort—in the words of a well-known German proverb—that “paper is patient,” or it would be pointed out that Kurt had probably found an American girl by now.
The worst part was that I couldn’t tell Kurt about those sneers. It would only have reinforced his resolve to sign up for another two-year stint in the army, which he was suggesting around that time. It was something I felt I must prevent at all costs, and it made my dealings with officialdom sheer agony.
I had imagined that once I left Germany I would never encounter such high-handed attitudes again, only to find that I was confronted by similar derision among French officials.
Paris, May 21, 1946
My beloved Kurt,
It is impossible to go to bed, because I know I won’t be able to sleep. I know how upset you are about the latest difficulties. I have cabled and written to Uncle Leo, because he too is terribly concerned, although fully confident—as I am—that all will work out. I am sorry that you apparently consider it an additional burden that Mr. Louis and my uncle are doing so much here in Paris. That’s ridiculous. Everyone who cares for us is helping. Your family certainly would do so if they could. Please don’t make it any harder on yourself. We have had a very rough time to get this far, but will overcome all obstacles, I am sure. I have never been stronger than now, really. If someone had told me when I arrived in France two months ago, after that terrible experience you still don’t know about in its entirety, that I would see you within three months’ time, I would have done cartwheels. So this is really no great tragedy.
There is one other possibility for us that I think you might find amusing. Mr. Louis is looking into it in London right now. It would be very good if you could get a visa for England; you can then either come with him to Paris or listen to this possibility.
There appears to be a blacksmith in Gretna Green, Scotland, whose ancestor, also a blacksmith, agreed to perform a marriage between an English prince and his ladylove when others had refused to do so. Once the prince became king, he granted this blacksmith and his descendants the right to marry lovers in distress.
Mr. Louis has already discussed the matter with your cousin in England, and she would be quite willing to get me there as a domestic. That seems to be the only way they would admit me to that country. It might take a little time, because we’ll have to wait until Trude returns from her visit to the U.S., but as you see, there are all kinds of possibilities. So please don’t despair.
Oh, yes, something very important: In case you should be questioned as to how I got to France and why I did not go with you to America when you went back home, you’ll have to be prepared to come up with the same answers I gave. They are as follows: I came to France with a displaced persons’ transport, part of a military convoy. As to why we didn’t get married in Germany, it was because you got your orders to go home quite suddenly, at a time when I had no papers to prove my identity. It’s true that I received them only months later. I was not aware at the time that my uncle in Turkey was in possession of my birth certificate. Further, after everything that happened to me in Germany, it is not surprising that I did not want to start my new life there. That, too, is true, Kurt. I would not have married you in Germany, so please stop agonizing about that and blaming yourself. Just remember, there is nobody I care for more than you, nobody I love and respect more than you. Doesn’t that make you feel a little better?
Millions of kisses. (How long will that take to accomplish?)
Yours,
Gerda
New York City, May 21, 1946
Gerda, my love,
I’m in possession of Mr. Louis’s cable, which states that it will take another three weeks until the certificate can be issued. I can hardly give proper expression to my disappointment; it really looks as though everything that
could conceivably block our way is in fact doing so.
I’m going to have another go at seeing the French vice-consul tomorrow, but don’t know how successful that will be, inasmuch as my passport unfortunately wasn’t issued in the manner I had requested. In it France is given as my final destination. Therefore nothing will probably come of the transit visa.
You’ll hear tomorrow how things progressed here, and I will also cable the outcome, so that you’ll know either way. My current stay in New York is like a nightmare. Every step I take turns out totally discouraging, and yet it would be so easy to come to you! Oh, Gerda, it’s time we got together!
Kurt
Paris, May 22, 1946
Dearest Kurt,
Just a few words. We had a very busy but most productive day. Early in the morning I went to the city hall with Mr. Louis and met two distinguished high officials who had seen my papers and fully understood what happened in this case. They were willing to act as my witnesses to expedite matters regarding my residency permit. It normally takes upward of three weeks to get it, but I was assured it will take only three days in this instance. With the document of their approval in hand, we went directly to the Prefecture de Police, and suddenly, magically, all doors were open. The chief of police himself took matters in hand. It will not be issued until the day after tomorrow, because right now it still lacks a few signatures; a mere formality, I was told. They assured me that by next week I would have my residency papers, in other words, official permission to be in France.
Can you imagine how much has changed since yesterday! I am not cabling this news, but when I get the residency permit, the wires between Paris and New York will buzz!
I am going to accompany poor, tired Mr. Louis to the Gare du Nord, because he is going back to England today. He still thinks it would be good if you could meet him there. On his last trip to London your cousin gave him a picture of you that promptly went to Istanbul. Your family sang your praises, and now mine wants to claim you as their own. I have seen to that already. In haste, but still enough time for a kiss,
The Hours After Page 32