A Kind of Woman

by Helen Burko

  “The whole idea didn’t please me. First of all, I didn’t want to part from Karl, and second, I had no inclination to be a spy. But I couldn’t, under any condition, refuse to carry out the orders of the Gestapo, especially since Karl himself, despite his love for me, agreed I should go to Russia. ‘Your country needs you!’ he persuaded me.

  “After a few days, I returned to Abersberg, where there was a training school, and finished the course in a very short time. My mother and father found out about it through my relatives, who I told you lived in Abersberg. My father and mother refused to meet me or talk to me because they objected strongly to what I was about to do, but I wasn’t my own master anymore and had to carry out the orders of my superiors.

  “When I returned to Lublin as a spy, Karl comforted me. ‘Don’t worry, my liebling; soon we’ll meet in Moscow!’

  “And now this is the most important part. Before I was sent to fulfill my duties, Karl took me with him on a tour of Majdanek. That camp had just been built and enlarged. Groups of prisoners from all the countries were sent to Majdanek. In answer to my questions, Karl told me all the prisoners were enemies of Germany, and I believed him.

  “You will probably want to know why I went on those tours of the camp together with Karl.” Mathilda raised her eyes again and looked at Jacob, who was sitting quietly and listening. “Yes, I know. This interests you above all.”

  He remained silent and she continued. “In my future work as a spy, I had to know all about the life on a Kolhaus. So it was decided I would learn from the Russian women in the camp all about life in Russia and the Kolhaus. Every time I came to the camp, I would choose a few women and bring them to my room. Not only did I feed them well, but I persuaded Karl to give them easier work.

  “Those women sat with me for hours. I would speak Russian with them, and Ukrainian and Polish with the Polish women. From the Jewish women, I learned Jewish customs. All that might be useful to me in the future in unexpected conditions during my trip to Russia.

  “I learned a lot from those women, and I owe them thanks, but you won’t believe me that there was no hate in my heart for them and I even believed they were innocent. I wasn’t the one, however, who made the decisions, and also I was so absorbed in my work that I saw nothing but my intensive training for the dangerous mission I was about to undertake.

  “I was in a tangle of emotions. My new assignment frightened me but also aroused my interest and curiosity. During long, sleepless nights, I would lie awake and wonder if I could succeed in my mission. After the numerous conversations with the women in the camp, when I could successfully disguise myself as a Russian girl, plans were made to bring me into Russia.”

  “How did that woman recognize you from the camp?” Jacob asked. He expected a clear answer.

  “I don’t know,” Mathilda answered quietly. “Maybe she remembered me from my visits to the camp.”

  “How did she know your name?”

  “I don’t know,” said Mathilda, “but the women I talked to all knew my name. They heard Karl talk to me and call me by my name, and I’m sure they talked about me with the other women. To tell you the truth, Karl was not of the same opinion as I was. He thought we should kill the women after they helped me. They might talk and reveal the secret of my studies, but I persuaded him not to kill them.

  “I’m sure the fact that I came to Majdanek together with Karl, and that they had to stand in formation in front of me while I chose them, made a very strong impression on the ones left.

  “They probably thought I was choosing them for medical experiments. I didn’t see any of that, but one of the women who taught me Polish told me about them. To tell the truth, I didn’t pay much attention to what she said. I swear to you, the women who helped me to learn what I had to weren’t harmed. I don’t know if they took women for medical experiments. It’s possible, but I didn’t know about it. I know that they did things there that, if I asked if it was permissible to do such things even to an enemy and they said yes, I wouldn’t have agreed.

  “With the conviction that there is good and bad in every nation, I landed in Russia. I was parachuted in. In my suitcase, I had a passport with the name of a Soviet girl, Masha Ostapovna Budyonova. The name Budyonova was given to me so they would think maybe I was related to the Soviet commander-in-chief Budyonov, but if asked, I was supposed to say I didn’t know how we were related. Psychologically, my modesty would help create belief, and as I noted later on, it did make an impression. This also helped me instill belief in the officers I met in Russia and made it less dangerous to carry out my assignment.

  “I’ll never forget the night I parted from Karl,” Mathilda sighed. “It was a difficult moment for me, but he smiled and comforted me. ‘Don’t worry; we’ll meet in Kremel in a month or two!’

  “I didn’t know then that a month or two would turn into four years. I had to take my fate into my own hands. The handkerchief held the code in the embroidered initials, but it could only be seen with a microscope. Another copy was in the lining of my small suitcase, and another copy was in the lining of my coat. With the help of those codes, I was to broadcast to the German spy center. If one of the codes was lost or discovered, I was to use the second one and then the third. It was dangerous work, and it demanded courage knowing that my life was in the balance.

  “As I told you, my mission was to pass on information about the movement of Soviet troops on the front lines with the help of my miniature sending apparatus, which was in the form of a cheap jewelry box and was in my worn-looking small suitcase. Only today, when I look back on the years since then, I can say with conviction that it wasn’t so much my intelligence as my good luck that kept me alive.

  “More than once, I was almost caught. It happened after Major Yagorov, who met me in a village close to Kiev, the place to which I parachuted, had already fallen in love with me almost to the point of madness. I burned my parachute in the forest in back of the village and then I walked toward a Kolhaus called Chapayev.

  “Before I jumped, I was given geographical information about the surroundings. In the village, when I arrived, I introduced myself as a refugee from another town called Gorky—it had been taken by our German army—so no one could examine the truth of my statement.

  “I met Yagorov in the Kolhaus. He was a simple Russian who liked drink and pretty women. He had a crippled left hand, but he was at the command post in charge of the Kiev-Harcov front. Part of the front line was not far from the village. It would take too long for me to go into detail about how we met—which was very interesting but not important right now. Besides him, an Uzbek from Tashkent named Aysoyav was attracted to me, and he also served at the command post. The two of them competed for my favors, and that was all to the good, because it blinded them to the dangerous work I was doing. They weren’t the only ones who liked me; all the other lower-ranking officers and the soldiers saw me as a relative of that Budyonov. In their eyes, I was a brave fighter who followed them every place on the front line. Many times, I was almost killed during the shelling or by a German mine.

  “It would take too long to tell you all the details of my life with the Russians, but you can be sure it was no bed of roses.

  “I lost all contact with Karl, and in the crush of work, I even forgot about him. There were many times when I cursed him for getting me involved in such a dangerous mission.

  “The German divisions were advancing faster and faster. Then came the battle at the gates of Moscow. I retreated together with Yagorov and his defeated command post, but now the Russians began their attack, and I knew only a miracle could save poor, losing Germany. My contact with headquarters had been cut off some time ago.

  “In my wanderings on the front line together with Yagorov, my life was in a shambles. There were times when I felt like a whore. When Yagorov drank too much, I was the subject of his unbridled passion, and he also beat me. His crippled hand made him so angry that he was unrecognizable, because he was usually naive and goo
d natured. He would call me a whore, a name that was a favorite among the Russian soldiers, but I paid no attention to their name-calling.

  “One day,” she continued, “when I was trying to contact headquarters—it was near Rostov—one of Yagorov’s good friends, Major Nekrasov, entered my tent and caught me by chance. He was stunned to hear me speaking German and giving a password. When he approached me to ask what I was doing, I didn’t hesitate. I took out my gun, hidden in my dress, and shot him, but I only wounded him, so I had to leave immediately.

  “After I destroyed all my documents, I succeeded in distancing myself from there with the help of a ride in an army vehicle to Harcov. Now I had no papers and no food. I was desperate, and I searched for a way to survive until I could get out of Russia. I took another name. Being beautiful helped me out of many tight places, and my knowledge of the language and customs kept me out of trouble. I found a safe place pretending to be a refugee in a Kolhaus called Stalin, and here I had no need of papers and I was fed.

  “I could write a whole book about my four years in Russia. They were years full of adventures and dangers, but here I learned that every nation has good people and bad people. In Russia, I met some good men and even became fond of them. Among them was a Jewish boy who wanted to marry me, a handsome boy named Solomon Rosman. He was crazy about me, and from him I learned a lot about the Jewish people and their religion. I yearned for my home, and I hoped the war would end soon and I could go back to Germany.

  “It wasn’t long before I learned my dreams would never come true. The German army was routed, and my home was probably in ruins. I saw the long lines of German prisoners, passing night and day on their way to the distant Soviet republics. They looked so forlorn, ragged, and discouraged. Each new group of soldiers brought a stabbing pain to my heart. I asked myself what crime had they committed? I searched for Karl, but he was not among them.

  “After that came the fall of Berlin. She was conquered by the Allied Command, but especially by Russia. I knew my way home was blocked even more. I began to feel everybody was following me. I had to be careful not to blurt out some German words, which I might do when I had too much drink… That happened with the officer Bunin, who I wanted to avenge because he called his dog Goebbels.

  “Now I was living in a Kolhaus, but one day, when the head of the Kolhaus started to embrace me and tell me he loved me, I pushed him away. He began to make trouble for me and to interrogate me as to why I didn’t return to my old town, Gorky, where I said I had fled from.

  “‘Those fascists have been chased out of Russia, everybody is returning home, and only you are waiting here and not going home.’

  “One night things came to a head, and I decided to leave the Kolhaus. I tried to think of what I could do next.

  “That night, the head of the Kolhaus, a tall farmer of sixty, became very drunk and tried to rape me. He wouldn’t leave me alone. I hated him; he was vulgar, and he was also ugly. I ran away to Kiev, thinking to go from there to Germany. I didn’t want to go to the place the Allied Command was in charge of… I was afraid to fall into Russian hands. I knew if I reached my home in Germany, the Russians would arrest me immediately and find someone to inform on me that I had been in the Nazi Party.

  “My situation was extremely critical. I was sitting, discouraged, on my little suitcase in that station house in Kiev when you came along. You were like an angel from heaven, for I was feeling so lonely and helpless. I didn’t have a cent, I was hungry, and I almost begged for a plate of soup. When you began to talk to me, I had no wish to answer you at first. I was sick of all the men who had tried to become intimate because of my beauty, but you were so kind, and I liked that. I had almost forgotten what kindness was, and I soon discovered you were not like the other men. You impressed me favorably, and the more I knew you, the fonder I became of you.

  “Believe me… I’m telling you the truth.” Mathilda gave Jacob a searching look. “I couldn’t believe I could love a man like you—like you, meaning a Jew. You can imagine I was brought up to hate any foreigner from other nations, and as I told you, I found out this was not right.

  “I probably should now give you a lot of praise and compliments. I can only say that what I learned in the short time we were together is that, although you are a little emotional, something I’m not accustomed to, you are a man in every sense of the word. I’m restraining myself because I wouldn’t want you to misunderstand me and think I am trying to arouse your pity.

  “You can believe me that if it weren’t for my yearning for my home and family, I could have been happy to be your wife.

  “And why not?” She gave Jacob a quick glance. “You gave me your love and tried to make me happy. You did everything for me, but I couldn’t feel happy because I knew you didn’t know who I really was, and you couldn’t know the real reason why I didn’t want to ever have your children. Yes, there were many times when I almost told you the truth about me. You deserved to know the truth, and I would have told you if this hadn’t come first.

  “For this reason, I didn’t want to meet with your parents and your friends. It made me angry when someone asked me about my past. I had many sleepless nights thinking how far away from home I was. Who knew if I would ever see it again? My country, my home, and my family are all dear to me even if they are all in ruins.

  “And that’s the reason your inquiries angered me and also the reason for my convictions about the results of the war…convictions I never concealed from you. On one hand, I find it difficult to free myself from certain ideas—I can’t help it; that’s the way I was educated—and on the other hand, life and my experiences have taught me otherwise. Which one is right? I don’t know! I’m still young. I studied, and I hoped for better times. What kind of better times? I don’t know that, either; I just know that now I feel like a boat without an anchor.

  “In a general way, I have told you everything. I haven’t hidden anything from you. I didn’t go into detail so as not to waste time. Your visits with me are long, and I must admit I am surprised at the liberal approach to the prisoners here in America. This is really a free country. But I’m longing to see my country and now… Now I probably won’t see it so quickly. I would like you to defend me. Not to defend my actions, for now I see I was wrong.”

  She paused again for a moment and smoked her cigarette. She waited for Jacob to say something, but when he didn’t, she stubbed out her cigarette and continued sadly. “I would like to live to see my country and my home again. To see my dreams come true as you have. But if there ever comes a day that my country will be free again and it shakes off the terrible nightmares of the past, then maybe I’ll be able to go home. Who knows when that will be—I’ll probably be very old. Oh, how I would like to be among my own people. I long to see my country’s cities and towns—Berlin, which has so many delightful memories and associations for me. I don’t have to explain that longing to you, for that’s exactly the way you longed for America, for your home. Only now do I know what it means to be among your own people and to be joyful together with parents and friends. Only now do I understand that every man who suffers deserves pity. Until today, I didn’t know that… I didn’t know…”

  She fell silent. The warden had already reminded them a few times that the visiting hour was over, but Jacob requested each time for some additional minutes to hear her story.

  Her story stunned him. He sat motionless, his eyes fixed on her face. She looked worn and exhausted, as though she had been reliving her stormy past.

  She took out another cigarette from one of the packages he had brought her, lit it, and drew hungrily on it. Suddenly she shook herself awake, and he heard her weak voice. “If there’s anything that’s not clear to you, you can ask me questions. I’ll try to answer them. When you get home, open my small suitcase and take out the handkerchief with my initials on it. Bring it and a microscope, and I’ll show you my cipher hidden in the embroidery. That will prove, in a small way, that I’m telling the truth.�
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  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Since morning, the line of people waiting to get into the courthouse where the trial of Mathilda Krause was being held stretched out for a few blocks. The interest this trial aroused had brought people here from all over America: heads of organizations and of immigrant aid societies, etc.

  Especially former inmates of concentration camps took the trouble to come. They had immigrated and settled in America after the war. The excitement was caused by the fact that Jacob—who himself had been an inmate in a concentration camp and had seen with his own eyes the destruction the Nazis had caused, even losing his own wife and daughter—in spite of everything, was now defending a Nazi spy he had married and brought to America.

  All the newspapers were full of details on the subject. Screaming headlines announced Jacob’s decision to be the defense attorney at the trial.

  One of the newspapers wrote, “The crimes of the Nazis are already forgotten. Only a short time has passed, and already there is a man, an American, one who was violated by the Nazis, who is willing to forgive these murderers of millions and even defend them.

  “This lawyer, Jacob Barder, should be put on trial together with the Nazi Mathilda Krause, who he dared to bring to America so she would find asylum. They both should be sentenced to the electric chair!”

  “In defending the Nazi Mathilda Krause,” another newspaper wrote, “Barder is defending all the Nazis and justifying their actions.

  “All the nations of the world, and especially the Jewish nation since the Nazis slaughtered a third of their people, should not be permitted to forget what the Nazis have wrought and know that they do not deserve to be forgiven.”

  “To defend this Nazi woman means to spit in your own face,” wrote a prominent Jewish newspaper.

  “A Jew who defends a Nazi,” wrote another Jewish newspaper, “means that the war has broken his spirit and distorted his mind, for there is no room here for forgiveness, not humanitarianism, altruism, or all the other isms. This only proves that Jews are ready to forgive and forget because they are weak.”