Schultz Home
Nuremberg, Germany
December 24, 1938
Heinrick opened his eyes. He pushed
himself up in the dark and wiped sweat from his forehead. He had
seen her again. Or had he? Was this a bad dream? Was his mind
playing tricks on him in the dark? This was the fourth night he had
awakened with her face in front of him. He wasn’t sure if he was
having a nightmare or being haunted by a ghost.
On the night of November ninth, he had seen her unconscious with her head bleeding in her mother’s lap. But in his dreams, she appeared standing by his bed. Her face was beautiful and unmarred by the scar of a brick. Her complexion was lily-white and her cheeks rosy-red, almost matching the locks of her hair. He wasn’t sure why she had red hair. He had never seen a red-headed Jewish girl. Maybe she was adopted.
Jewish or not, adopted or not, dead or alive, she was very real, at least in his imagination. Sometimes she smiled. Sometimes she cried. Sometimes she spoke. When she spoke, her voice sounded like an angel’s voice. At least it sounded like what Heinrick imagined to be an angel’s voice. Her message was always the same:
“Read the book. Before it’s too late.”
Her voice always woke him from his sleep. He was never sure if he heard the voice in his dreams or if she was in the room. The uncertainty was unnerving. Each time, he woke up in a cold sweat, frightened and confused. Perhaps he was going mad.
“I don’t understand! What book do you want me to read?” He spoke aloud.
“Heinrick, who are you talking to? Are you talking in your sleep again?”
Ingrid was a light sleeper. In the nights following the ninth, she lost plenty of sleep from Heinrick’s squirming in bed. She knew something was wrong, but Heinrick would not reveal the details of his operation, let alone tell about the girl. Revealing the details of confidential military operations could lead to execution.
“It’s nothing. Maybe something I ate.”
“I don’t believe you, Heinrick. You haven’t been eating much of anything. And you’ve been twisting and turning in your sleep for a month now.”
“Sorry, Ingrid. I will try and be still. Go back to sleep.”
But Ingrid could not sleep. Neither could Heinrick. She got up and headed downstairs.
“Where are you going?”
“To bake some gingerbread men.”
“It’s three in the morning!”
“Ja, and in two days it will be Christmas. We don’t have any sweets for the children.”
“Can’t it wait till tomorrow?”
“It is tomorrow. Besides, if you could’ve waited till tomorrow to start talking, I could have waited to start baking. Now I can’t sleep.”
Heinrick gave up as Ingrid headed down the steps. He slipped back under his blanket and closed his eyes.
“Papa?”
Heinrick rolled over and saw his seven-year-old daughter Leisel standing in the doorway.
“Yes, sweet girl?”
“Stephi and I cannot sleep, Papa.”
“Why can’t you sleep, Leisel?”
“Because Mommy woke us up.”
“I know. Mommy has gone downstairs to bake some gingerbread men, and when you wake up, I’m sure she will give you some. Now go back to bed.”
“But Papa?”
“What now, sweet girl?”
“Will Mommy make some gingerbread women and some gingerbread boys and girls, too?” Leisel asked.
“I’m sure she will, and we can eat the whole gingerbread family, just like we do every Christmas. Now go back to bed.”
“But there’s just one more thing I must tell you, Papa.”
“Just one more thing. Then to bed.”
“Me and Stephi are cold, Papa.”
To provide moral support to her big sister, five-year-old Stephi Schultz peeped around the door, her big rag doll wrapped in her arms. The doll, which she found under the Christmas tree last year and named Eva, was her constant companion.
Heinrick gazed for a moment at his girls standing at his bedroom door. In their flannel blue pajamas with curly blonde locks and big blue eyes, together they formed the most persuasive and the cutest diplomatic team the world had ever known.
“Hallo, Stephi.”
“Hallo, Papa.”
“Are you cold too?”
“Ja, Papa.”
“Eva isn’t keeping you warm?”
“No, sir. My feet are cold. Eva won’t keep my feet warm,” she said.
Heinrick knew what they were hinting at, and by now his resistance to their scheming had long since melted.
“So do my girls want to cuddle with Papa?”
“Ja, Ja!” said Stephi, bounding with joy that Heinrick had read her mind.
“Please? Please can we cuddle?” pleaded Leisel.
“Okay. Come on. But first you must give Papa a big kiss!”
Filled with excitement, the girls jumped on the bed, gave Heinrick a slurpy kiss on each cheek, and crawled under the covers. Within minutes, both were asleep on each side of Heinrick.
By four in the morning, the sweet aroma from gingerbread cookies in the oven mixed with the evergreen scent from the Christmas tree at least gave the small house a holiday smell. Ingrid considered going back to bed for an hour but decided that she just wasn’t sleepy enough. Maybe she could rest even if she couldn’t sleep.
She sat down alone in the den and closed her eyes. Just as she felt herself starting to doze, she was interrupted by an unexpected ring of the front doorbell. Who could be visiting at 4:30 a.m. on Christmas Eve?
She got up, tiptoed over to the door, and looked through the peephole. A man stood outside in the cold, dressed in a black uniform. She could see his breath in the freezing air. He looked like a military officer of some sort. She pulled her robe closed and opened the door.
“Frau Schultz, I presume?”
“Ja?”
“Pardon the interruption, madam. I am Commandant Klinger of the German Verfügungstruppen.”
“You’re from the SS?”
“That is correct.”
“What can I do for you, Commandant?”
“I need to speak to your husband.”
“He’s upstairs sleeping. Is there anything I can do for you?”
“I have an urgent telegram for your husband. It’s from Berlin.”
“But it’s Christmas Eve. Can’t it wait?”
“Madam, the telegram is from Der Führer.”
Ingrid wasn’t sure if her throat had fallen into her stomach or if her stomach had leapt into her throat.
“Heinrick’s not in trouble, is he?”
“Madam, the telegram is confidential.” The man’s eyes glared, and he spoke in a businesslike, intimidating voice. “And while I am a patient man,” he rested his hand on his pistol, “our time is running short. Please understand that compliance with our request is not optional.”
Ingrid got the message. Either she got Heinrick out of bed or the commandant would invite himself and his friends in for Christmas cookies.
“I am pleased to be of service to you, Commandant. Please wait here. I will tell Heinrick that you wish to see him.”
“Very well, madam.”
Ingrid climbed the narrow staircase to their small bedroom, where she found Heinrick sleeping on his back with Leisel under one arm and Stephi under the other.
“Heinrick!” Ingrid whispered, not wanting to awaken the girls.
“The cookies smell good,” Heinrick mumbled, sounding half asleep.
“It’s not about the cookies. You have a visitor!”
“A visitor? Who?”
“He’s in a black uniform. He calls himself the Commandant. He says he is with the SS.”
“The Commandant?” Heinrick snapped up.
“Do you know him, Heinrick?”
“Ja.” He sat up with his eyes wide open.
“Who is he?”
“That information is classified,” he said.
“There you go again. What do you mean by classified?”
Heinrick ignored the question. “Go back downstairs and tell the commandant I will be right with him.”
“Very well, Heinrick.” Ingrid felt her hands shaking. She descended the staircase to deliver the message. She walked to the front door. “Heinrick will be with you soon, Herr Commandant.”
“Aah, something smells wonderful, Frau Schultz. Would you happen to have a cup of coffee you could spare for an officer of the Reich?”
Ingrid hesitated. “Yes, of course, Commandant. Please come in.” She directed him into the kitchen. “Please be seated, sir. How do you like your coffee?”
“An SS officer drinks his coffee black and powerful, which are the colors and characteristics of the great war machine that our Führer is assembling for the glory of the Reich.”
She ignored the comment, for his words and eyes gave her all the comfort of having a viper in her house, slithering up at her table for breakfast. She extracted a cup from the cupboard and poured some coffee into it. “I hope you will find this suitable, Commandant.”
“Danke, Frau Schultz.”
“My pleasure.”
She looked up and saw Heinrick bounding down the steps. He had donned himself in the same black turtleneck and trousers he had worn the night of November ninth, the last time he had left the home for some cryptic Nazi party function.
“Commandant!”
“Schultz!” Klinger jumped to attention, extending his right hand, palm down, toward Heinrick. “Heil Hitler!”
Heinrick shot back the Nazi salute. “Heil Hitler, Herr Commandant.”
Ingrid cringed at her husband’s rigid military bearing. She knew he was a follower of Hitler, but that salute felt creepy.“Schultz, I have a telegram for you. Please read it.”
Heinrick took the telegram from the commandant and opened it.
From: Adolph Hitler, Chancellor
To: Heinrick Schultz
Re: Induction into German Special Forces
Date: 24 DEC 1938
Thank you for your valor and heroism in service to the Reich. Your loyalty and courage displayed on the evening of November 9, 1938 have proven your value to your country.
Because of your service, you have been selected as an officer candidate in the German Special Forces to serve in the SS-Verfügungstruppen. You will report to Induction Processing Headquarters, Berlin, no later than midnight December 25, 1938.
Congratulations.
Respectfully,
Adolph Hitler
Chancellor
“I take it I am not the only recipient of this telegram.”
“No, but you are part of an elite handful selected. Your work at Temple Beth-El was, shall we say, impressive to the Party.”
Heinrick thought about the red-headed girl. He felt queasy.
“But the telegram says I am to report by midnight?”
“That’s right, Schultz. I need you to gather your things and come with me now.”
“What are you talking about?” Ingrid demanded. “It’s Christmas Eve! I knew nothing of this. You can’t just march off and leave us like this without warning, Heinrick!”
“Schultz, I suggest that you speak with your wife about the privilege and honor it will be for her to be the bride of a German Special Forces officer. Obviously, she doesn’t understand the prestige and stature that has just been bestowed on her. If she keeps her nose clean and keeps her mouth shut, she will move in social circles with the elite of Germany.”
“I will speak with her, Commandant. But it is short notice. And it’s Christmas Eve. What about my job at the factory?”
“You’ve resigned and your position has been filled.”
“But . . .”
“Everything is taken care of. I realize it is Christmas Eve. But der Führer is seeking Special Forces officers who can drop what they are doing at any time and report for service to the Reich. What is more important, Christmas or service to der Führer? Now if you are coming with me, I need you to gather some toiletries and a change of clothes now.”
“Very well, Herr Commandant. But could I have just a few moments alone with my wife?”
“Take twenty minutes; then we must go.”
Ingrid followed Heinrick upstairs.
“Heinrick, what’s going on?”
“The Führer has selected me to serve in the German Special Forces.”
“What are special forces?”
“That’s classified.”
“If you say ‘classified’ again, I’m going to scream!”
“Okay.”
“Heinrick, it’s 4:45 a.m. on Christmas Eve. I’ve had no notice. What am I to tell the girls? How long have you known?”
“Ingrid, you know I’ve been doing some classif—” Heinrick caught himself about to utter the forbidden word. “I mean, some secret work for the Party. But I swear to you, I had no clue about this.”
“So what will you do, Heinrick?” A desperate look set into her eyes. “Are you just going to leave us on Christmas Eve?”
“Of course I do not wish to leave,” he said as he threw some slacks and sweaters into a small suitcase.
“Then why are you packing your suitcase? I thought the commandant said ‘If you’re coming with me, I need you to gather your things.’ That sounded like it wasn’t definite that you have to leave.”
“I know he said that, but this is not optional.”
“Not optional? Then why would he say ‘if you’re coming?’ That sounded optional to me.”
“I don’t think it’s optional because of the Führer’s telegram.”
“Come on, Heinrick. The commandant made it sound like the Führer sent you a personal telegram. Now we discover that the same telegram went to others as well.”
“It doesn’t matter, Ingrid. It was issued in the name of and by direction of the Führer. And is says clearly”—he opened the telegram again—“‘You will report to Induction Processing Headquarters, Berlin,’ not ‘You have the option of reporting’ or ‘You may choose not to accompany the commandant if you wish,’ but ‘You will report.’ Here. Read it for yourself.”
He tossed her the notice. She read it and shook her head, and he saw the look of worry on her face. “I see your point.”
“Besides Ingrid, even if it were optional, they’ve already eliminated my job at the factory. I would have no place for work. For your sake and for the sake of the girls, these are not the kind of people we want to cross.”
“What do you mean by that?” she asked.
“Just trust me, Ingrid. You didn’t believe me when I told you I was involved in activities affecting national security. Now you see my importance to the Reich. So trust me when I say we don’t want to cross these people.”
“Okay, Heinrick. I’ll trust you this time. But when will you be back? Will you be gone all the holidays?”
“I can’t say. The telegram provides no information. Maybe this is some sort of one-day indoctrination thing. Maybe they’ll let us come home on leave.” Heinrick didn’t believe a word of it. Deep down, he knew he would be gone for a long time.
“I can’t bear to see you out the door, Heinrick.”
“Then stay up here with the girls.” He grabbed her and gave her a long, passionate kiss. Then he kissed each of his sleeping daughters on the cheek.
“I love you. I will contact you with more information as soon as I am permitted.”
He hugged her once more, then headed downstairs, suitcase in hand.
Ingrid heard the front door close. The Nazi visitor had taken her husband, and her gingerbread family was burning in the oven.