The Lost Boy

by Kate Moira Ryan

  “I am in love with you; and I am willing to do something for you. I will try to get Daniel back for you. However, if I cannot, won’t you consider being with me? The four of us could be a family.”

  “Last night, Pasha, you implied that I was a whore for sleeping with you in Poland.” Slim recoiled with hurt.

  “Love can make the oldest of us behave like a bunch of petty adolescents. Please forgive me.” Pasha stood up. “I will let you dress, and I will meet you downstairs.” Pasha kissed her hand. He moved to leave and then stopped. He went into his room and returned with a file marked ‘Lebensborn’.

  “I almost forgot, I managed to get this file for you,” he said as he handed Slim the file.

  “Where is it from?” Slim asked.

  “From the RuSHA trial at Nuremberg,” he said.

  “You stole it?” Slim asked.

  “Jones copied it with a spy camera,” Pasha said. “He’s good at what he does and because of that I overlook certain things.”

  “Please thank him for me,” Slim said, assuming Jones was not joining them on their next leg of the journey. Pasha nodded and left.

  As Pasha drove the winding mountain roads to Laakirchen, Slim paged through the file. The first page contained a directive for Austrian children’s agencies, county councils and the general population to provide the names and addresses of all Polish children — legitimate or otherwise — who had been given to foster parents. The directive further clarified that even if a child was considered of ‘German descent,’ if they were parentless or a member of the Lebensborn Society, they must be brought in.

  Her eyes jumped to the bottom of the page. She read aloud, “Penal Prosecution of the following persons.” The name Anneliese Jansky was the first on the list. She was born October 2, 1912 and listed as the Secretary of SS Lebensborn home at Laakirchen near Gmunden.

  Underneath Jansky’s name was Jakob Pfaffenberger, Director of the Lebensborn Alpenland home at Laakirchen.

  The final entry said only: SS officer of higher rank, bearer of Golden Party distinction under the name Heinze.

  “Pasha, what does it mean if an SS officer is of ‘Golden Party distinction?’” Slim asked.

  “It means that he was an early member of the Nazi Party and his number in the Party was 1 to 99,999,” Pasha said. “Those with Golden Party Badges were pretty rare, and everyone who had them was a devoted fanatic.”

  Next in the folder was the interrogation of Max Sollman, the Managing Director of Lebensborn. Slim remembered Anna Freud’s assistant, Selina Treichler, telling her that Sollman had been tried for the kidnapping of the children, but found not guilty. Sollman provided a list of the Lebensborn homes in Austria, Germany, Belgium, Luxembourg, Norway and France. In the coming pages, Slim learned more about how Lebensborn operated.

  Funded by the members of the SS, various welfare organizations and income derived from the work of concentration camp inmates, the Lebensborn homes were confiscated properties and outfitted with railroad cars of stolen furniture stolen from the Jews. Another name mentioned in the ‘persons responsible for criminal activities of Lebensborn’ was Maria Merkel, the director of Schloss Lebensborn.

  There were pages and pages of reports: lists of the missing children, requests for such children, weekly searches of children’s homes around Bavaria looking for the kidnapped and, of course, procedures for the removal of children. It was a treasure trove of information. The UNRRA Child Search personnel, mostly women, were tireless in their search. As frustrating and hopeless as their job sometimes seemed, the women never gave up hope. Hunts were organized efficiently, with a chain of command that insured results. The preponderance of women in the child searches made Slim think of something one of her co-workers at the repatriation center where she had worked in Paris once said. ‘Men make the wars, and women are left picking up the pieces.’

  Slim turned the page and found the confession of Anneliese Janksy. It stated she was nothing more than a secretary of the home. If so, why was she wanted for war crimes? Slim found a list of ostlanderkinder, which translated to children from the East. However, all the names on the list sounded German. Heinrich, Johanna, Fritz, etc. So did the last names: Bogner, Belzig, Heinze, Peters. The places of birth were all Polish. How would she find the original names? Slim flipped through more pages and found a memo dated 1943. It was signed Ernst Heinze of the Waffen SS.

  “Pasha, can you read this and tell me what it says?” Pasha pulled over on the side of the road. Slim passed the paper to the front.

  He took it, then started to loosely translate, ‘In the home, there are 34 children from the annexed part of Poland. Some of the children still have Polish names. But the children are going to receive German names. They are already being processed.’ It is signed by a Heinze of the SS, and it is addressed to the burgomaster of Laakirchen.”

  “I have a list of children with German names, but not one of their original Polish names.” Slim pulled out another sheet of paper. “Look, here’s a list of personnel for the house and their last known addresses. The only one who still lives in Laakirchen is listed as a hausgehifin. What’s that?” Slim asked.

  “A housemaid. I hope we’re not on another wild goose chase.” Pasha sighed.

  “I learned long ago that the person who knows all the secrets is often the lowliest. Let’s see if we can find Frau Simanovski,” Slim said. “Every town has a registry office. We’ll start there,” Slim said, looking out at the Alps. She knew this fairytale land was soon going to reveal its dark secrets.

  Chapter eleven

  1950 — Laakirchen

  Slim and Pasha found the city office on Rathausplatz in Laakirchen, a small village bordering the Traun River. A pleasant woman in her forties greeted them curiously, but warmly.

  “Good morning. I am looking for a boy kidnapped from Poland. I have information that leads me to believe he was taken to Schloss Oberweis,” Slim said, holding out a photo of Karol.

  Instead of being fearful or suspicious, the woman took the picture, smiled and spoke as Pasha translated. “She said she has worked in the City Office of Laakirchen since the war and she knew of the Alpenland Children’s Home located at the Schloss Oberweis. The first transport of children came in September of 1943.”

  “Is she sure it was 1943?” Slim asked, puzzled. “The boy was taken from his mother in 1942.”

  Pasha asked. The woman nodded, looked around and then whispered to him.

  “She said they were sent there after being Germanized,” Pasha said, speaking softly. “They were sent first to special camps to be taught German. Sometimes the process took as long as six months. She said we should talk to the burgomaster of Laakirchen. He is out to lunch at the café down the street. His name is Franz Weixelbauer.”

  “Can you ask her if she knew a man by the name of Jakob Pfaffenberger?” At the mention of the name, the woman lit up and spoke again in a normal voice.

  “She doesn’t know where he is now. He had been wounded in the war, so he was appointed the director of Alpenland. His wife also worked at the Schloss.”

  “What about someone named Heinze?” Slim asked.

  At the mention of the name Heinze, the woman suddenly grew fearful and shook her head. She muttered something and excused herself.

  They found the burgomaster sitting at the café, sipping a stein of beer and soaking in the sunshine. Pasha introduced them and Slim showed the photo. The burgomaster took it, then smiled. Like the woman in the city office, he didn’t seem at all worried about being asked about the kidnapped children and spoke warmly to Pasha. “The burgomaster says he does not know this child. After the war, he told the Americans everything he knew. The Americans told him that these children were stolen from the East. He believed that these were war orphans. However, there was one man in town, a lawyer, Dr. Trautenberg in Gmunden, who tried to get the stolen children back to their families during the war. He will give us the address for the doctor’s office in Gmunden,” Pasha relayed t
his information to Slim. The burgomaster handed the photo to Slim and said something more to Pasha.

  “What is he saying?” Slim asked.

  Pasha hesitated and then spoke, “He says if Alpenland did not take the children, they would have been killed in Auschwitz. So perhaps kidnapping them was not such a bad thing because it probably saved their lives.”

  Slim blinked, speechless. Finally, she said, “Perhaps not invading Poland and killing six million Poles would have been the better idea.”

  Pasha relayed this to the burgomaster, who shrugged, wrote out an address for Trautenberg and picked up his fork. The man continued to eat.

  On the way to Gmunden, Slim said to Pasha, “Is it me or does everyone seem fine with the fact that there were a bunch of kidnapped Polish children living in a castle in the middle of town?”

  “Dachau was in the middle of an arts community. There was a swimming pool at Auschwitz for the commandant. I guess in their minds if one doesn’t acknowledge atrocity, one is not responsible,” Pasha said, lighting up a cigarette, coughing slightly.

  Trauntenberg’s office in Gmunden was located next to the courthouse on the second floor of a nondescript building a quarter of an hour away from Laakirchen. The doctor’s secretary showed them into his office. A tall man with gnarled hands was looking out the window at the river.

  “Did you know that the Traun River is a tributary of the Danube?” Trauntenberg asked in English. He turned and smiled. Handsome, tanned and is his late sixties, Trauntenberg shook their hands and then waved for them to both sit down.

  “So you’re here regarding the missing Polish children,” Trauntenberg said, sitting behind his desk.

  “I’m here about one child. This one,” Slim said, showing him the photo. “The burgomaster told us you might be able to help.”

  Trauntenberg’s face grimaced at the mention of the burgomaster then relaxed. “Are you American?” he asked. Slim nodded. “Your country is helping Austria get through this miserable period of economic uncertainty.”

  Slim waited as Trauntenberg examined the photo. “Why do you want to find this boy?” he asked. “And, please, when you speak, speak slowly. My English is a bit rusty.”

  Slim explained. Trauntenberg picked up the photo again, “I have to be honest with you. All those children looked the same to me. It was a bit eerie, like something out of a futuristic novel. They all had blonde hair and blue eyes. They were so identical it was almost as if they had been made in a laboratory.”

  “How did you become involved with the children at Alpenland?” Slim asked.

  “During 1943, my friend Dr. Max Block of Vienna, who was an Austrian officer at the time, was contacted by Major Stefan Von Moravek, who was stationed in Poland. A Polish woman had asked Major Von Moravek to find out what happened to her daughter, who was taken away by the Germans and sent to Austria. Dr. Block contacted me, and we found the child in Alpenland along with thirty-three other children, all taken from Poland. The child was returned to Poland but afterward, the mother was arrested by the SS,” Trautenberg said.

  “What about the other thirty-three children?” Slim asked.

  “After the war, we tried to get them back to Poland, but it proved too dangerous. We tried to get support from the authorities and the burgomaster. The results have been nil,” he said.

  “Why do you think the burgomaster wanted us to meet you?” Slim asked.

  Trautenberg shrugged. “Probably to let you know how fruitless your search is. Dr. Block’s health was shattered by this experience, and I was threatened by the SS more times than I can count.”

  “The SS is gone,” Slim said.

  “The SS will not be gone from Germany until the last officer dies. You have to understand how ingrained this ideology is. Under Hitler, there was no God; there was no church. There was only him. And the sacrifices laid before the altar of the Führer were children. Poland has gotten some of these children back, but the ones who were adopted by the high ranking SS have disappeared, along with the criminals who adopted them,” Trautenberg said.

  “Where do you think they’ve gone?” Slim asked, knowing full well where they’d gone.

  “I heard they’re assembling a Fourth Reich in South America. Unstable countries have dictators. Dictators need enforcement. Who better to provide a military dictatorship with the backbone it needs to rule than sadists?” Trautenberg sighed.

  “So that’s why you think they’re welcoming the SS with open arms?” Slim asked.

  “The rumor is that these war criminals are propping up these dictatorships for the Americans.”

  “Do you know an employee of Alpenland by the name of Anneliese Jansky?” Slim asked.

  “Oh yes, the infamous Fräulein Jansky. She purposefully made mistakes on the children’s names and destinations so they could not be traced. She will be of no use to you. I don’t know where you’ll find her. Everyone — What’s the expression you Americans use? — ‘jumped ship’ after the Allies came.”

  “There’s another name of my list. Jakob Pfaffenberger. Do you know him?”

  “He was the administrator of the home. After the war, he and his wife were completely cooperative; useless, but cooperative,” Trachtenberg said.

  "What about an SS man by the name of Heinze?”

  When the name was mentioned, Trauntenberg drew a deep intake of breath. “You don’t want to have anything to do with that man.”

  “Why not?” Slim asked.

  “Just take my word.” Trachtenberg said.

  “Do you know anyone else who could help me?” Slim asked, realizing that she had hit another dead end.

  “There’s a woman who worked in the sewing room. She was one of the Bibelforscherinnen; they call them something else now, Zeugin Jehovas.”

  Pasha, who had been quiet until that moment said, “Jehovah’s Witnesses were subjected to intense persecution by the Third Reich because they insisted they were apolitical.”

  “Yes, that is correct,” Trachtenberg said, acknowledging Pasha’s assessment. “There were three prisoners from Ravensbruck who were sent to work in Alpenland. Frau Simanovski still lives in Laakirchen. Maybe she will recognize the boy. Hold on; I have her address in my book.” He opened a cloth-bound address book and paged through it.

  “Were you able to return many of these children to their birth parents?” Slim asked.

  “We tried, but after the war we let the Americans take over; it just became too dangerous for us. Especially with Ernst Heinze,” Trachtenberg whispered the name.

  “Do you know where I could find Ernst Heinze?” Slim asked, trying a different tack.

  “No, nor do I want to know. Here is Frau Elfriede Simanovski’s address. Good luck,” he said.

  “May I ask you something before I leave, Herr Doktor Trauntenberg?” Slim asked.

  “Of course, what is it?” he said.

  “After everything you’ve done, do you think it is in the child’s best interest to return to a homeland they barely know?” Slim asked curiously.

  “Yes, because children are resistant to everything but ideology. If you find that boy, take him. Run with him. That is the only way you will give him a future without hatred,” he said.

  Slim was about to tell Trautenberg the boy was half Jewish but then thought better of it. Information was currency, and at this point, she wanted a return on her money.

  When they got outside, Pasha looked at the address. “Frau Simanovski’s address is in Laakirchen. It’s another walk.” Pasha lit another cigarette.

  “Pasha, you have a young son. Must you smoke so much?” Slim asked.

  “Must you bring it up all the time?” He winced at the sunlight and reached into his pocket to put on a pair of Bakelite sunglasses.

  “Look at us, we’re like an old married couple bickering,” Slim said with a touch of sadness in her voice.

  “Perhaps, but I don’t know many married couples who have jobs like ours,” he said. “Come let’s find this Jehova
h’s Witness and see if she can lead us somewhere.”

  When they knocked on the door of 72 Oberweis, a woman in her late thirties answered. Frau Simanovski looked at both of them curiously. Pasha explained who they were and the woman beckoned them into her home. Slim looked around. The room smelled of lemon and oil; it was clear that the woman had been in the middle of cleaning.

  She motioned for them both to sit on a worn sofa covered with a blanket and offered them refreshments. Slim at first refused, but Frau Simanovski would not hear of it and she went through the doors to the kitchen.

  Slim noticed a shelf of what she assumed were religious books in the corner. The woman came out with a tray holding a bottle and some small sandwiches.

  “Apfelschorle,” she said, pouring them each a drink and offering a stack of sandwiches made out of pretzels. “Der Schinken.”

  “That’s apple juice with fizzy water and ham sandwiches,” Pasha said, picking one up.

  Slim followed suit and said, “Danke. So are you Frau Simanovski? And did you work at the Lebensborn Alpenland Home?”

  “She says that she is,” Pasha translated in between bites.

  “Please ask her how she came to work at Alpenland — but first tell her how much I like this sandwich.” Slim was trying not to wolf it down.

  Frau Simanovski smiled, then spoke to Pasha.

  “She says that she and her husband were both arrested by the Gestapo. They refused to do the Hitler salute or join the Party. Her husband, like all the men in their church, was called up to fight for Germany. They protested. To them, the Führer was like the anti-Christ. So they were arrested like most of their Jehovah’s Witness friends. She was sent to Ravensbruck, the women’s camp, and her husband to Buchenwald. Her husband is dead.” Pasha said.

  Frau Simanovski took a framed photo from a side table and presented it to Slim. A group of people stood in front of a picnic table with arms around each other. Frau Simanovski pointed to a smiling man in the middle “Sepp,” she said.

  “Could you ask Frau Simanovski how she wound up at Alpenland?”