From A Poison Pen: A collection of macabre short stories

by Smythe, B. P.

  ‘Of course, Doctor Ruediger,’ the Stabsführer replied. She glanced at her section leaders. ‘Irma, show the good doctor where she can freshen-up.’

  Irma beamed at the opportunity to help the Reichsreferentin.

  The doctor followed Irma down a flight of steps to a washroom. On her knees with a bucket beside her, Magda looked up.

  ‘Borch, get out of here,’ Irma shouted, proudly showing her authority. ‘You can come back after we’ve finished.’

  Magda quickly got up and bowed,

  ‘Yes, Oberrottenfuhrer.’

  With her bucket and mop, she moved swiftly out of their sight.

  ‘She’s on punishment detail,’ Irma explained to the doctor as she offered her a towel to dry her hands.

  ‘Ah,’ the doctor said with a smile, ‘discipline above all, my dear, is the key to the future of our fatherland. We must treat all those whose ancestry is in doubt or have wandered from the path of our National Socialist faith, as we treat a stray dog that we give a home too. We feed it to make it trusting and, to install fear and respect for its master, we beat it if it is unruly’

  Irma beamed at the Reichsreferentin, ‘

  You’re so right, Doctor Ruediger.’

  The doctor smiled at her,

  ‘Thank you, my dear,’ she said as she finished drying her hands. ‘Now, let’s go and eat.’

  With the doctor leading and her attention diverted, Irma quickly reached across the sink basin and put something in her pocket, then continued up the stairs behind the doctor. After a brief walk, they made their way back into the dining hall.

  Everyone waited for Dr. Ruediger. When she sat down they all followed. The reformatory girls, as always, were forbidden to speak.

  For the next forty minutes, during a meal of cold ham, potatoes and cabbage, followed by cream cakes and coffee, the Stabsführer chatted with the doctor. The section leaders looked on in admiration and listened intently to the doctor. From time to time, Dr. Ruediger asked them in turn about their racial awareness. How it was so important that BDM girls remain pure in body and spirit, to avoid racial defilement.

  The doctor finished off by saying,

  ‘Only choose a spouse of similar or related blood. Be aware of worthy and unworthy races, about breeding hereditary diseases. The task of the Girls BDM League is to raise our girls as torchbearers of the National-Socialist world. We need girls who are at harmony with their bodies, souls, and spirits. And we need girls who, through healthy bodies and balanced minds, embody the beauty of divine creation. We want to raise girls who believe in Germany and our leader and who will pass these beliefs on to their future children. We want girls who believe absolutely in Germany and in the Führer and who will pass on this faith to the hearts of their children. Then National Socialism, and through it, Germany, will endure forever.’

  Overcome by the speech, they all stood up and applauded the doctor. Then they raised their glasses and shouted,

  ‘To the Führer.’

  Dr. Ruediger raised her glass then realized in shock that her Reichsieger ring was missing off her index finger. The one presented to her by the Fuhrer himself. She slapped her forehead.

  ‘Goot, Gott in Himmel!’ She remembered now; she’d taken it off to wash her hands. She leant across to the Stabsführer,

  ‘I have left my ring in your washroom,’ the doctor said looking worried. ‘Can you please get the girl to fetch it for me?’

  The Stabsführer clicked her fingers for Irma to go immediately and get the ring.

  Irma moved swiftly down the steps and felt for the ring in her pocket. She peered around the washroom door and saw the Jew slut, Borch, on her knees scrubbing. Hopefully, this was going to get her in the Stabsführer and Dr. Ruediger’s good books, with a possible well-deserved promotion.

  The short walk to the sleeping quarters took less than a minute. Irma took out the ring and hid it under Magda Borch’s mattress. Her bunk wasn’t hard to pick out. Some dried blood from the beating, remained on the pillow. Then she made her way back and set a worried look on her face as she climbed the stairs.

  ‘I’m sorry, Doctor Ruediger, I couldn’t find it.’ With a sympathetic look, Irma continued, ‘I looked in the washroom, even asked that Jew, Borch, on punishment duty.’

  ‘But I know I left it there when I washed my hands,’ the doctor confirmed with a worried look at the Stabsführer.

  Irma leaned over and whispered in the Stabsführer ear.

  ‘Yes, you’re right, Schulz, we should check her out,’ the Stabsführer agreed. She got up and said,

  ‘Doctor, would you excuse us for a moment. Schulz and myself will soon clear this matter.’

  ‘I insist I come with you,’ the doctor said. ‘I’d like to check for myself.’

  The three of them descended the stairs and took the short walk to the washroom. Magda, still on her knees scrubbing, raised her head to them.

  ‘Borch, get up,’ Irma Schulz said.

  Magda got up immediately and stood still with her head bowed.

  ‘Now listen, Jew.’ Irma meant business. Holding her riding whip, she slapped it into the palm of her other hand, menacingly. ‘A ring has gone missing, Jew. A very precious ring belonging to the Reichsreferentin here. It was left on the wash basin this morning while you were working. Have you seen it, or do you know anything about it?’

  ‘No, Oberrottenfuhrer, I have seen no ring.’

  ‘Don’t speak to the floor, Jew, look at me.’ Irma Schulz jerked Magda’s head up with the riding whip under her chin. ‘I’ll ask you again, Jew, where is the ring?’

  ‘I have seen no ring, Oberrottenfuhrer, honestly,’ Magda pleaded.

  ‘Turn out your pockets, now, quickly,’ Irma barked.

  Magda fumbled nervously and produced a small bar of caustic soap and a broken pumice stone.

  ‘Search her quarters,’ the Stabsführer said. ‘No one else has been down here. They’re all in the dining hall.’

  Magda protested,

  ‘But I’m telling the truth, honestly.’

  ‘Shut up, Jew, and come with us,’ Irma said.

  With Irma clutching Magda’s collar, they quickly frog-marched her to the block sleeping quarters.

  At the entrance, they were met by the smell of stale sweat. ‘Show us your locker?’ Irma shouted.

  Magda pointed over to the wall. There were two books and some toiletries in the cubbyhole. Irma, with a sweep of her hand, scattered some old toothbrushes, used bars of soap and combs onto the floor. She flicked through the books and tossed them idly away. ‘Nothing here,’ she said to the Stabsfühere and the doctor. Then she barked at Magda, ‘Show us your bunk, Jew?’

  While the doctor looked on, Irma and the Stabsführer searched through Magda’s rough cotton blankets, and then under the blood speckled pillows.

  ‘Nothing,’ said the Stabsführer. She turned to the doctor with a look of dismay, ‘I’m sorry, Dr Ruediger, there’s nothing here.’

  ‘I told you I didn’t have it,’ Magda protested to them again.

  ‘But it must be here somewhere,’ Ruediger said, very near to tears. ‘It’s most precious. The Führer himself presented the ring to me.’ She knew weeping was a sign of weakness; and as supreme leader of the BDM she couldn’t afford to display any vulnerability at the loss of a personal item when so many soldiers were sacrificing themselves at the Russian front.

  Irma could sense this was her moment. ‘Let’s just check the mattress.’ She lifted the threadbare item and felt underneath. Something dropped onto the floor. All of them stared down at the beautiful gold party ring emblazoned with its swastika on oak leaves.

  Irma stooped to pick it up.

  ‘Is this what you’re looking for, Doctor Ruediger?’

  Magda interrupted,

  ‘I didn’t know that was there, someone must have put―’

  ‘Shut up, you thieving Jew,’ Irma shouted.

  ‘But
honestly, I had nothing to do…’

  ‘I told you to―’ Irma lunged forward with her riding whip.

  ‘Stop―stop,’ the doctor said, pulling Irma back by the shoulder. ‘We’ll have to deal with this through the proper channels.’

  ‘Borch, go to my office and wait there,’ the Stabsführer said sternly.

  ‘But I’m innocent, I honestly didn’t―’

  The Stabsführer interrupted.

  ‘I told you, Borch, go to my office now, or else.’ She looked over at Irma who was itching to use her riding whip.

  Magda took the hint and quickly walked out with her head down.

  The doctor couldn’t contain herself. She put the ring on and admired it. Then, to the Stabsführer's amazement, she flung her arms around Irma and hugged her.

  ‘Thank you - thank you, my dear. You are a clever girl for finding it.’

  ‘Yes, well done, Schulz.’ The Stabsführer said smiling, so relieved the ring had been found. The last thing she wanted on this state inspection visit was any complications.

  ‘My dear,’ the doctor said, still with her arm around Irma’s shoulder, ‘if there is anything I can do for you within my capacity as Reichsreferentin, please let me know.’

  Irma glanced sheepishly at the Stabsführer, then said hesitantly, ‘Well, there is something actually, Dr Ruediger. It concerns my promotion…’

  Still protesting her innocence, Magda was sent to the reformatory infirmary. She didn’t mind so much, she was excused duties and the beds were cleaner. She was even allowed a hot shower and a clean smock. They kept her isolated and set a date for her examination.

  A week later, Magda was visited at her bedside by a psychiatrist and a doctor from the regional Eugenics court. During a one-hour examination using a tape measure and callipers, they inspected Magda’s head to non-Aryan charts including the colour of her eyes and hair. Then, taking into consideration she had been classified a Mischling because of her Jewish ancestors and, including the theft of a ring from a highly regarded party official; it was inevitable that they finally classified Magda as schizophrenic with feeble-minded tendencies.

  In accordance with the 1935 Nuremberg race laws - The Protection of German Blood and Honour - Dr. Walter Schreiber had no hesitation in stamping Magda’s medical card, For Sterilization.

  Magda was taken to the Wessenberg Maternity hospital where sterilizations were carried out. They told her, examinations had shown she had a slightly inflamed appendix and it should be removed.

  Misleading patients whose mental health was still rational and capable of reasoning was standard procedure. Through experience, it was better for everyone if patients were rendered, cool and calm, unaware of their fate.

  That afternoon, a nurse came in and shaved off her pubic hair. Then, they wheeled her in to the operating theatre.

  Three weeks later after convalescing, Magda returned to the reformatory. Soon afterwards, she was called into the Stabsführer’s office. Sitting by the Stabsfuhrer’s side was an SS doctor. He held a syringe under the table, just in case.

  The Stabsführer coldly informed her,

  ‘Magda Borch, I have to inform you that on the 12th December 1943, you were sterilized in accordance with the 1935 Nuremberg race laws - The Protection of German Blood and Honour - because of being classified as a schizophrenic with feeble-minded tendencies. I also have to inform you, it is forbidden for you to marry a man who is not sterilized himself.’

  Magda burst out crying, and then the rage took her. She started screaming at them,

  ‘You bastards! What have you done to me? I hate you and your disgusting National Socialism. I hate Adolf Hitler.’ All of a sudden, she was out her chair, leaning over their desk lashing out at them. She picked up the lamp and telephone and threw it at them.

  ‘Now, Borch, control yourself,’ the Stabsführer shouted back. ‘You’ll only make matters worse.’

  While scalding abuse erupted from a furnace inside Magda’s mouth, the doctor and the Stabsführer leant back fending of her blows. Eventually, they managed to get to their feet and tried to restrain her, shouting at her to stop.

  ‘Enough, Borch, enough, you stupid girl.’ Wrestling her to the ground the doctor got his syringe into Magda and she collapsed within twenty-seconds.

  The SS doctor wasted no time. He informed the Stabsführer that he had no other choice. The doctor reached for the telephone and asked for the Reich Führer’s office. After a brief discussion with his secretary, he was put through to Heinrich Himmler himself. They spoke for five minutes with a lot of head nodding by the doctor. Finally, he put the receiver down. Without saying a word, the doctor took out Magda’s medical records from his briefcase. His gold pen hovered over the section box, headed, State Recommendations. Then the SS doctor slowly wrote - For Extermination.

  *

  Because Magda’s brother, Martin, was still only 14-years-old, the authorities felt it would be best if he were fostered out.

  They’d found him a strict, upstanding National Socialist family of schoolteachers whose young son Carl also attended the Hitler Youth. Fortunately, the family lived in Munich and knew Martin’s parents; they’d been on Dr Borch’s list of patients.

  His new foster parents had been informed that the doctor and his family had died in an air raid. Martin had been the only survivor. The two men from the Gestapo had told them that that was all they needed to know,

  Martin had been briefed and was glad to keep up the pretence. The shame of his parents hiding Jews along with his stupid sister for feeling sorry for them was something he’d like to keep quiet.

  With his new foster brother, Carl, he attended the local Hitler Youth meetings. He was happy again after his terrible ordeal and fitted in well with his new family.

  Martin felt that his real parents had betrayed him, his sister as well. Since he had been ten years old, he’d been indoctrinated with the Nazi ideology - from school, to Hitler-Jugend classes, to weekends away camping with his unit, to the pomp and glory of those Nuremberg rallies. He didn’t need his old family. They were children of the Führer now. He would look after them. The Führer had told them so in the Nuremberg stadium and Martin’s new foster family had a portrait of the leader above the fireplace.

  *

  By April 1945, Martin’s conception of Nazi ideology was being severely tested. With most of Germany in ruins and the Americans, only a couple of hundred miles away from Munich, Martin and Carl with their Hitler-Jugend unit were sent to Dachau concentration camp to support the garrison. They were both excited. This was their chance to do something meaningful, something positive for the war effort, instead of helping out at soup kitchens and first aid centres with women. They’d seen some of Goebbels propaganda films showing Hitler Youth fighting the advancing Russians using bazookas and grenades and afterwards, the Führer awarding them the Iron Cross.

  When Martin’s unit arrived, the acting Commandant, Gottfried Weiss, met them. He made it clear, the crematorium and its surrounding area including the railway sidings were strictly out of bounds. Their duties were to maintain the perimeter fence and the guard towers. Shoot anybody in striped uniform trying to escape, and keep a look out for the Americans. They were given K98 Mauser rifles. Martin and Carl knew how to handle guns; it had been part of their Hitler Youth training.

  In groups of four, they were placed under an SS guard who showed them the sentry duty routine, including safety rules on how to clean their rifles. Billeted in the SS barracks, eating and drinking rations out of tin cups and plates, they felt like real soldiers. It was as if they were at camp again.

  One afternoon, Martin witnessed the true reality of Dachau. He heard shots around the back of the kitchens. When he went to investigate, he saw an SS guard with three Hitler youths. One of them was Carl. On the ground was a dead Jewish prisoner; another wounded one was trying to crawl away.

  Carl was holding a pistol, a Luger P-08. He was walking around the wo
unded Jew and pretending to shoot. ‘POW! – POW! Where do you want it, Jew-boy?’ he shouted. The others were laughing. The guard looking on was having his ten-minute break, leaning against the wall having a smoke.

  Martin asked him,

  ‘Why have they been shot?’

  The SS guard told him,

  ‘They were caught stealing potato peelings from the dustbins.’

  The older Jew, already with a bullet in his shoulder, tried to sit up. The other two youths were mimicking Carl, pointing their fingers at the Jew and shouting, ‘POW! - POW!’

  The Jew pleaded with them. He told them in broken German, ‘Please, we are given permission from Kapo. In bins, we can have. Yes?’

  Carl walked around him, making the terrified prisoner strain to turn his head, thinking he may be shot from behind. Carl asked him again, ‘

  Where do you want it, Jew boy?’

  Suddenly, they all stopped. Two prisoners appeared carrying sacks, then, froze rigid when they saw the situation. They immediately took off their caps and bowed. Carl fired a shot in the air and shouted,

  ‘Vamoose, you pigs.’ They dropped the sacks and fled.

  Carl returned his attention to the Jew in front of him.

  ‘I asked you, old man, where you’d like it?’

  The Jew just looked at him, not quite understanding. He said something back in Polish, but it was drowned out by the shot as part of his skull blew off.

  While blood pumped furiously from the gaping hole, the others cheered and the guard smiled. He put the cigarette to his mouth and clapped. Carl nudged the lifeless body with his foot. Then, showing-off to the others, he spat on the Jew as they patted him on the back.

  *

  The guns in the distance had rumbled for the last four days. Now it was distinctly louder. The Americans couldn’t be far away.

  On the 26th April, there was a buzz around the camp. The commandant along with a few of his SS regular guards who had abandoned their posts, turning the warehouses over to a group of prisoners called, The International Committee of Dachau.

  The workshops had stopped sometime back. Lack of raw materials and no power had confined prisoners to their lice ridden huts. Morning and evening roll call was the only time they got any fresh air or saw daylight. Electricity in the kitchens was off, and food was being cooked over wood-burning stoves. With no running water due to a broken main, a small supply was sourced and brought into the camp by trucks.