“And who are they?” I whispered to my talkative neighbor, motioning my head to their direction.
“Uh, they… That’s our rocket scientists,” new Herr Rosenthal smirked louder than I expected. “They think they’re better than us because they weren’t ‘committing crimes’ like we supposedly did.”
The group of scientists replied with disapproving arrogant looks but didn’t say anything out loud.
“You know I’m talking about you, rocket scientists,” Rosenthal continued mockingly. “Stop acting so innocent like you have nothing to do with us. You were sitting in the same jail, so you’re obviously not so clean, are you now?”
“We were held for the purpose of interrogation, unlike you,” one of them finally replied. “We were working in the scientific field, we aren’t guilty of the deaths of millions of people.”
“Neither are we! We’re the intelligence organ, we didn’t kill anybody either. It’s the Gestapo over there, near the wing, go talk to them!”
“Drop dead, Jew!” A former Gestapo agent turned away from the illuminator for a second just to give Rosenthal a murderous look.
“You’re a Jew too now, idiot!”
“Stop talking, everyone!” An OSS agent, who just appeared from the front part of the plane where all of them were seated, immediately brought everyone to order. “You’re not supposed to speak to each other at all! You’re not going to a summer camp, so stop making friends and mind your own business! Keep quiet! I’m not going to repeat it twice.”
As soon as the American officer disappeared, Rosenthal chuckled and said quietly to me, “How interesting it is that I still find these new bosses better than the old ones. Don’t you?”
I agreed with a smile and went back to feeding baby Ernie, wondering how many planes would follow our first one into the New World to participate in the top secret operation under the control of the OSS. According to the law no former member of the Nazi Party could cross the border of the United States, leave along living and working in the former enemy’s state. And yet here we were, almost a hundred people, all former members of the organizations, which were proclaimed criminal by the International Military Tribunal – the SS, the SD, their umbrella the RSHA, even the loathed Gestapo received new identities, perfectly clean records and were given the second chance for life, and all because as new Herr Rosenthal correctly pointed out, they were more useful for the OSS alive than dead.
Heinrich and I were probably the only ones here who were offered this opportunity as gratitude for our work and would lead a completely normal life when in New York; the rest of them, as I found out later from the same Rosenthal, would be living under total control of the OSS and doing whatever they’re told until the OSS wouldn’t be in need of their services anymore and would allow them to retire somewhere out of everybody’s sight.
“They said they need us, the intelligence, to do the same work we used to do with one difference: we’ll be working for them against the Soviets.”
“Why the Soviets? Aren’t they the allies?” I inquired, surprised.
“Technically they still are, but you have to understand, with Germany out of the picture and the Nazi threat gone, the Americans will have to fight against even bigger enemy now – the Communist threat, which has occupied half of Europe now. And that’s what they need us for, because most of us are still in touch with the infiltrated within the Soviet Union agents, who will keep reporting to us through the same channels, only the reports will be landing on the American OSS table instead of the RSHA, you understand?”
“And the scientists?” Heinrich asked quietly, leaning over me so as not to wake Ernie, who was finally sleeping again. “What do they need them for?”
“The same we needed them for, to continue their research, only on American land. Did you know that we were this close to creating the atomic bomb?” Rosenthal made a tiny gap in between his thumb and index finger showing how close the German scientists supposedly were to the breakthrough. “Now the Americans want them to finish the bomb on their land. They’re also bringing doctors I heard, I don’t know what those are for, but some scientific experiments I guess… Something about the former concentration camps I think, but I’m not sure.”
“How many people are they bringing overall?” Together with intelligence agents, scientists and medical staff the number should be quite impressive, I was sure of it now.
“I don’t know. We’re the first plane, but the OSS kept pulling a lot of people out from the same jail where I was confined in. And that’s only one jail. I’d say hundreds at least, if not thousands.”
_______________
As soon as we descended the steps, the OSS agents waiting for us at the airport started sorting the newcomers out according to the lists they had and motioning them to the different trucks which drove right to the plane.
“Name?” The agent looked up from his list to Heinrich and me as our turn came up.
“Rosenberg, Emma and Hermann. And our son, Ernst.”
“No, no, they’re with me.” Agent Foster motioned us to follow him into the car.
As we took our place on the back seat, agent Foster sat next to the driver and told him the address.
“I’m taking you to your new apartment so you can shower, change your clothes and rest after the flight. Unless you want me to take you to your parents first,” agent Foster asked me over his shoulder.
“No, you’re right, we need some rest,” I answered after exchanging looks with Heinrich.
His arm wasn’t bandaged to his shoulder anymore and he could move it almost freely, but I still didn’t want to exhaust him too much after his injury. Besides I wanted to give baby Ernie a nice bath; even though I somehow managed to change him on the plane, nothing could replace warm water and soap. I gently kissed my sleeping son’s forehead and soon got almost glued to the window as we started making our way from the airport into the city.
Despite all my fatigue after so many hours spent in the same position on the plane and the jet lag after the time zone change – it was evening in Berlin and only afternoon in the East Coast – I was still excited to see the city which we would now call our home: New York.
We landed somewhere in the Borough of Queens, as agent Foster was explaining to us while we were making our way to Manhattan, and highways with small bungalows soon transformed into the enthralling scenery unraveling right in front of our wide open eyes. As soon as we crossed the bridge, we found ourselves right in the heart of Manhattan, the city which we knew only from the movies and illegal postcards, sometimes confiscated by the RSHA.
As we were moving towards the center – again, according to our OSS ‘guide’ since both my husband and I were completely disoriented in the new city – the skyscrapers were getting higher and higher and my neck soon started hurting from looking up all the time. I kept pointing at each one of them to agent Foster, asking which one the Empire State or Chrysler building was; smiling, he explained that we were in the upper part of Manhattan and couldn’t see them from here.
“You’ll recognize them right away when you see them, they are very tall, not like these buildings,” agent Foster continued. “You actually have to stand on the opposite side of the street to be able to see their tops, that’s how tall they are.”
The pride of the native New Yorker in his voice was unmistakable, and I once again lowered my eyes at the thought of how proudly I always spoke of my own hometown, Berlin, whenever I happened to be abroad. I also remembered Ernst’s dreamy expression and shining eyes every time he spoke of his Linz or even Vienna, which he considered his second home. Vienna and Linz survived the war; my native city was almost completely destroyed.
As if sensing my mood Heinrich slightly patted my knee and pointed to my left. “Look! It’s Central Park! Isn’t it?” Heinrich glanced at agent Foster, waiting for the confirmation.
“Oh yes, it is. And I’m sure that you and your little one will love it very much, since your new home will be right across
the street from it.”
“Will it really?”
The American smiled and nodded.
“Yes. You’ll be living right here, it’s called Upper West Side, obviously because this section of the city is on the upper west side of the Park, which is in the center of Manhattan, as you probably know. Well, you’ll have your whole life to explore New York, and I sincerely hope that it’ll become a great, new, hospitable home for you two. And here’s your townhouse. Actually, it used to be, but the city separated it in four levels with two apartments on each side, so you’ll have neighbors. They’re all very nice, well-to-do people, it’s a very good area, so I think you’ll like it. Oh, one more surprise, your friends the Sterns, or the Vogels, that’s their new name, will be sharing a staircase with you. We thought you’d like that. Your parents are only four streets away, so you can go visit each other as much as you want.”
I didn’t know how to express my gratitude for all that agent Foster did for us.
“Thank you so much,” I said from the bottom of my heart as he opened the door to our new house with his keys and handed them to Heinrich, who also thanked him warmly and firmly shook his hand.
“You’re more than welcome. It’s the least we can do after all you did for us.”
After quickly showing us our new apartment with two spacious bedrooms, one of which was already made into the baby’s room by the thoughtful agent Foster, the OSS agent left to give us time to rest and catch up on much needed sleep. Heinrich put down our small suitcase and smiled.
“How do you like it?”
“It’s wonderful,” I replied honestly. “I didn’t expect anything like it.”
“Are you excited to start a new life in the new city?”
I nodded enthusiastically several times, but my happy mask dropped as soon as Heinrich went to take a shower. I desperately tried to keep him away from my head, but he kept reigning my thoughts like he always did when we were still together, back home, in Germany. My Ernst.
He’s probably sleeping now, I thought, looking out of the window, thousands miles away from him. It was night time in the London prison, to which he was taken right after his arrest in Austria. What if he needs something and his guards don’t speak German, I kept constantly asking myself. What if they treat him badly? What do they feed him? Do they feed him at all? Is he eating? Maybe he’s not, in protest, just like he used to at the beginning of his career, when the Austrian government arrested the leader of the illegal SS Dr. Kaltenbrunner and sentenced him to six months in the concentration camp. He showed them the camp: he started a bigger propaganda campaign than the Minister of Propaganda, Dr. Goebbels, himself had ever done, and soon made his whole barrack go on a hunger strike in protest to ‘ungrounded accusations and arrest.’ Needless to say, the officials quickly decided to release the feisty Austrian before he would take the whole camp under his control.
I smiled at the memory of how Ernst, laughing, was telling me that, and frowned again, remembering that he wasn’t in Austria but in London, confined to the isolated one person cell constantly monitored by the British guards, and there was no one around to organize for protest. And besides, what protest could I be even thinking about? He was a war criminal, the highest ranking SS official the allied forces captured alive, and according to their newspapers, they considered him almost the originator of the Holocaust. How is he going to get out of all this? I rubbed my forehead with one hand and looked at my sleeping son, who I was holding on the other. At least I had him.
_______________
New York, June 1945
I was staring at the Star of David on top of the synagogue for quite some time and was still afraid to step inside. The truth was that I had never been to a synagogue before and had no idea what I should do once I walked in. I caught myself thinking that I should have taken my grandmother Hilda with me: she still spoke Hebrew perfectly and knew all the prayers and blessings by heart. But I was here not for myself, but for my son, and for some reason I felt like it had to be just the two of us. Ernie, who woke up a long time ago, was looking at me skeptically, as if asking, “Are we going in or what? You don’t have much time either, I’ll get hungry soon.”
I smiled at the imaginary words, winked at Ernie, and opened the door inside. A young man in a yarmulke and a dark suit, who I’d almost run into, hardly kept himself from dropping the books he was carrying and looked at me in surprise. After I explained to him that I had to speak to the rabbi, he told me to wait on one of the benches inside and disappeared behind one of the doors.
While he was gone I was timidly looking around and after a quick examination came to the conclusion that a synagogue wasn’t actually that different from the churches I used to go to, only the crucifix with Jesus on it was absent in the front and no images or statues of saints stood by the sides. That didn’t bother me too much seeing as I was raised to believe in a Jewish God, although I did know the Pater Noster and Ava Maria perfectly, just to keep up the image of being a faithful Protestant.
“Can I help you with something?”
I turned around to see a man in his fifties, smiling at me kindly through a thick black beard.
“Are you a rabbi?” I got up and asked.
“Yes, I am.” The man smiled wider sensing my confusion. “My name is Rabbi Solomon. Are you German?”
“Yes,” I nervously fixed my sheer head cover, which was falling off my head. “Me and my husband, we’re refugees from Berlin. My name is Emma, Emma Rosenberg. And this is Ernst.”
“Nice to meet you, Emma. And you, little one.” Rabbi Solomon slightly touched the tip of Ernie’s nose. “You’re not from the camps though, right?”
“No, we’re not. We lived in hiding the whole time,” I repeated my new legend word by word.
“I thought so. You look too healthy, the ones that arrived recently still hardly walk. And you wouldn’t have a baby in your hands if you were, they killed all the children and pregnant women as I heard.” He pursed his lips and shook his head disapprovingly. “You’re very lucky you survived that horror.”
“Yes, we are,” I agreed, shifting my eyes away from the rabbi. I already felt guilt-ridden lying to the servant of God in His house on the very first day I stepped through the doors of that house. “Rabbi, I’m here because of my son. And partially because of me.”
“If you are afraid that going to church while you were in hiding makes you any less Jewish, don’t worry about it. It doesn’t.” It seemed like I wasn’t the first one who came to him with this question. “The Torah states it clearly: any Jew, even the one who doesn’t follow any Jewish laws or traditions, is still a Jew. And any non-Jew, even if he follows all the Jewish laws, is still a non-Jew. You were born one, this is your birth right, which no one will ever take away from you, especially after all the terror and persecution you had to undergo in Germany.”
“I’ve never been to a synagogue,” I confessed, sudden shame coloring my cheeks. “I’ve never read the Torah. I’ve only been taught Christian prayers…”
“None of this matters, Emma.” Rabbi Solomon gently touched my shoulder, comforting me. “You’re still Jewish in God’s eyes. And as for the Torah, I’ll give you one so you can read it at home if you want.”
“I do,” I agreed, surprised by my own eagerness. “And my husband and I, we’ll be coming every Friday for Shabbat. And for every holiday.”
“You don’t have to.” Rabbi Solomon smiled kindly. “I understand that you feel guilty after so many years of non-practicing our religion, but that’s the church that wants you there all the time. We serve God because we want to, not because we have to. We keep kosher and say blessings because we’re grateful to God for everything he has already done and keeps doing for us, not because we want our sins forgiven. It’s very easy to keep sinning and then hoping that some higher power will forgive your sins after you repeat the same prayer fifty times. In the Jewish religion we try not to sin, because it’s us and us only who are responsible for our sins
, not God. So come when you feel like talking to Him, when you want to say ‘thank you’ or ask for somebody, but don’t come out of a sense of duty.”
That simple explanation made so much sense all of a sudden that I completely overcame my fear and couldn’t conceal a happy smile. “Thank you, rabbi. I’ll keep it in mind.”
“Good. What about your son?”
“My son… yes, you see, I didn’t do anything to him after he was born religious-wise, well, for the obvious reasons. Our city was under occupation, all the synagogues were destroyed years ago, and finding a rabbi was simply impossible – most of them were killed or sent to the camps long ago.”
“I understand.”
“So, I’m not sure what I have to do to… baptize him…” I shifted from one foot to another, once again ashamed of my own ignorance. “I’m sorry, I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do to make my child Jewish.”
“You don’t have to do anything.” Rabbi smiled. “A child born from a Jewish mother is Jewish. Period. The only thing that you have to do is to have him circumcised, as the male child who isn’t circumcised won’t have a place in the World to Come.”
“I know that it was supposed to be done seven or eight days after he was born, but—”
“You don’t have to apologize, I understand completely your situation and trust me it’s nothing serious. Come tomorrow with your husband, bring your son and we’ll have everything done. Do you know who you want to be your sandek?”
“Sandek?”
“It’s like a Christian godfather,” Rabbi Solomon explained with a smile.
“Oh… does he have to be Jewish?”
“Yes.”
“Then… not really. Can you be our sandek?”
“I’d be honored, Emma.”
And just like that, only a day later, Heinrich, still looking confused in a yarmulke, was holding in his arms Ernie, who was now absolutely Jewish, in the full sense of the word. Together with Rabbi Solomon they were posing outside the synagogue for the picture that my excited father was taking.
The Girl from Berlin: War Criminal's Widow Page 18