Anna lay motionless for what seemed like a very long time. In reality, it was only about 20 minutes. The wind was calm and a thin crust of snow blanketed the ground. The sun was going down, though, and the temperature was dropping rapidly. Anna began to feel cold. She decided it must be safe to try to make it back to the main road. After all, she had been left for dead, supposedly with a bullet in her head.
Anna stood up and was immediately aware of two things. She was shivering and had a dissonant ringing in her ears. In fact, it seemed she could not hear anything from her right ear. The Lugar muzzle blast had taken its toll.
She began to follow the ruts of the little-used road back to the main road. She walked at a brisk pace to try to get warm. She wondered if others had been brought to this spot to be murdered. She would never know for sure, but she suspected this was a place for murder.
It was dark by the time she stepped onto the main road. Instinctively she turned in the opposite direction from which she had been brought, hoping it was north. She was surprised at her strength. After her near death experience she wondered why she didn’t feel weak. That would come later. For now, she picked up her pace. The colonel had said there was a farmhouse. And she remembered that he had mentioned 10 kilometers. Still, her mind was cloudy. Where did he come from? She remembered his surgery, the gunshot wound to the heart and the encounter in the hospital with Adolph Hitler. But she had forgotten the colonel’s name. His surgery was one of hundreds she had performed. His stood out only because it had kept her from being arrested for a time.
Anna continued down the road. She walked as fast as possible but gravity seemed to be pulling her down. She thought about her survival. She’d been at Buchenwald more than two months and then suddenly she was selected for execution. She knew the former commandant would have had her killed. But he was gone and Ernst Bishoff, a former patient, had replaced him. The whole thing was bizarre.
She was beginning to tire. The cold was numbing but she pushed on, now unable to feel her feet. They felt like wooden pegs. She had no hat and her exposed face and head were draining her body of heat. But she knew that as long as she kept moving she would not freeze. The daytime temperatures were in the 30s but night could see single digits.
So the man whose life she had saved had in turn saved her. She thought of this paradox and whispered to herself, “I won’t die here on a frozen road in rural Germany.”
She pushed on. And then she saw them, tiny dots of light. They were gone quickly but then reappeared through the trees. She tried to run. The lights grew bigger, brighter. Another few minutes and she could clearly make out the farm house with a large barn behind it. Now she could see a fence and a chimney with smoke billowing from it. He had not deceived her. It was just as the colonel had said.
Anna’s legs were shaking as she stepped onto the porch. Her hands were almost uncontrollable. She put them together and tried to knock on the door. As it opened, her eyes were met by those of a woman in her 50s. The woman’s face was weathered from years of hard work and outside exposure.
“Come in, come in! We have been expecting someone.”
Anna stepped into the room, a warm space with a large hearth and blazing fire. Although it was an old structure, it was pristine. The chimney was stone, the floor wide- plank pine, and there were hand sewn curtains on every window.
“I am Greta, Greta Thiele,” the woman said with a smile. She turned and nodded toward a tall thin man standing by the fire. He wore overalls and had the same weathered look.
“This is my husband, Johann,” the woman went on. “Here, come to the fire and warm yourself. We’ll get you hot soup and tea.”
Anna sat as close to the fire as possible, her nose and ears bright red. She did not want to remove her coat, embarrassed by her prison clothes. But she realized they knew she was from Buchenwald. As Johann handed her the hot tea, Anna took a sip and let the warmth settle into her system.
“How did you know about me?” she asked.
Greta sat down in a large oversized chair covered with a handmade quilt.
“We have worked in the underground for almost three years. In 1940, our only son was killed in action in France. He was 19. We have two daughters, both in Hamburg working in armament factories. We were always against the Nazis. Johann fought in WWI, which gained us nothing as a country. This is our way of fighting back. We do not kill. We work to prevent them from killing.”
Anna looked up from her seat at Johann. He was standing by Greta. “Can you share how you knew I would come here?” she asked again.
“He is one of us.”
“Colonel Bishoff?”
“Yes. He is my oldest sister’s son. He was almost killed after becoming a Nazi when Hitler came to power. Over the next five years he became more and more disenchanted with Nazi policies. He was a good soldier, decorated for bravery. When he was wounded on the eastern front, he returned and decided to work against the Reich from within the SS. Fortunately, he did not join the conspiracy to assassinate Hitler. That decision represented the third time his life was spared. He is very cautious and has involved us reluctantly. We have hidden several people over the past two years, usually for several weeks until we could get them to a safer place or out of Germany. We are hiding someone now.”
“A man?” Anna asked quickly.
“Yes.”
“In the barn?”
“Yes. We are hoping you will be the last. Allied forces are only 100 kilometers to the west, still you never know. We have gotten some strange requests. Just last month we sent milk and eggs to Buchenwald.”
“For the Colonel?”
“Yes.”
Anna smiled. She finished her soup.
“You are so tired, my dear,” said Greta. “Let me show you where you can sleep.” Greta ushered Anna to a small room with a single bed, a table and a lamp. She gave Anna a flannel nightgown.
“Tomorrow we will burn your clothes. I have some things for you to wear. Now you rest.”
Anna nodded her head and closed the door. She had not felt safe since attending a meeting at the University of Berlin when she was forced to watch a film of men being executed by hanging with piano wire. Years had passed and she still had not been able to get the images out or her mind. As she closed her eyes, a sense of calm swept over her. She thought of a time as a child when her father rocked her to sleep because she was afraid of the dark. She wondered if she could ever feel that safe again.
The morning was bright and crisp. Anna had been in a deep sleep when Greta woke her, prodding her gently.
“Anna, Anna, time to wake up.”
The sleep had been the best, most peaceful she’d had in years. When she opened her eyes, a refreshing feeling rushed through her, a feeling that had been missing for the same length of time.
Greta knew of the extreme hardships at Buchenwald and the other camps. She and Johann had nursed several men back to health. Now, to help a woman would be special for Greta. Her oldest daughter was only six years younger than Anna. She easily transferred that love to Anna. She heated water and led Anna to a room where a tub of that hot water waited. Anna was speechless.
“Take as long as you wish. Your clothes are on the chair.”
Anna smiled back at Greta and lowered herself into the largesse of warmth, unable to do anything but sit back and relax her body and mind.
* * *
Hans Ulrich had made a snap decision to join the escape committee at Buchenwald. He had been relatively safe as a kapo, the principle ‘elder’ of block-12, having served two years of an eight-year sentence for embezzlement from a bank in Munich. He had always been a gambler and knew he might be stuck in the post-war prison system of a defeated Germany with no advocate or way out. Court records would likely be destroyed or lost. He had skills as an accountant and could make a fresh start. He thought he had made the right decision. Now he was not so sure.
Hans was not an outdoorsman. Fortunately, his two French companions had learned much about living off of the land working in the French resistance. In a week they had made their way northwest toward Hanover a city due west of Berlin. Unknown to them, the allied forces had reached Hanover and were in a race with the Russian Army approaching from the east to get to Berlin.
The three men were staying deep in the forest. They had matches and on two occasions had built fires, once to cook a rabbit and once to cook a large bass they literally had trapped in a pond. This had been the extent of their food. The cold and exhaustion were taking a toll. They stayed completely off the roads to avoid German troops in defensive positions trying to slow Allied advances. About half a million Wehrmacht troops were deployed along a line from Lubek in the north, down east of Hamburg and Hanover, then to Nuremberg in the south. Eventually they would fall back to form a perimeter defense of Berlin.
On the evening of April 1st, the three escapees felt they could not go on. Pierre Oberaud was the strongest and thought he could make it to Allied lines, possibly in another two days. They could hear Allied artillery far in the distance. They had even seen British aircraft flying sorties supporting troop movements, but they had no idea where the Germans were, nor the Allies. Exhausted, they had to gamble. They had purposefully avoided contact with anyone. Now that must change. They decided to ask for help at the next farmhouse or cabin. The opportunity presented itself that evening.
Kurt and Fran Heirholzer had prospered during the war. Their 100-acre sheep farm had provided wool for uniforms and they had made more money in four years than in the previous 15. The economic boon had turned Kurt into a staunch Nazi. The Reich had become his religion. The war was making him rich. Any doubts he had experienced at the invasion of Poland had been washed away in a cornucopia of Reich marks. It was Kurt and Fran Heirholzer’s sheep farm the trio of Buchenwald fugitives were approaching.
Hans Ulrich stepped onto the farmhouse porch and knocked. He knew late evening visitors would be unusual and possibly unwelcome. They had decided to take this chance because many in the rural areas were in fact anti-Nazi. Even so, under no circumstances would they divulge their fugitive status. They would present themselves as working in the resistance. The door opened slightly and Hans began to speak.
“Good evening, sir. We are very sorry to bother you but as you can see we are very cold and in need of help.”
When Kurt saw the condition of the men he opened the door wider. Hans and Roland were shivering and pale. Pierre looked somewhat better. Fran Heirholzer was standing behind her husband. A roaring fire was in the hearth. Nazi or not, she wasn’t about to turn sick men away.
“Have them come in,” she said.
As the men entered the lighted, warm room, she was startled to see their condition and also puzzled by it. She sat them down on a bench in front of the fire and gave each a cup of hot tea. She looked at her husband who remained silent.
“Where are you from?” she asked. “And why are you here?”
Hans took a long drink of tea. “We work in the underground. A week ago, we became separated from a larger group that was doing reconnaissance for the Allies. We have been trying to get back to Allied lines.”
Kurt was at once skeptical, but said nothing. Their clothing was thin, not what anyone would wear in winter, even the underground. They obviously had no weapons. But he didn’t want to confront them. Then he had an idea.
“My wife has a pot of lamb stew on the stove. You can stay in the barn tonight and get a fresh start in the morning. I have several old coats I can lend you.”
“You are very kind,” Hans replied. “A hot meal and a night’s sleep will restore us. We’ll be on our way early in the morning.”
The men were led to the ‘mud room’ to wash up. As Fran Heirholzer was getting soap for the men, she noticed the tattoo on Roland’s forearm through a hole in his shirt sleeve. Keeping it to herself, she moved back into the kitchen to dish the stew. Each man had a large bowl, then another. Little was said. Kurt would not feel safe until they were in the barn and locked in at that. True to his word he found three old woolen work coats for them, then led them out to the barn which was a relatively new and sturdy structure used to store winter hay and his two plow mules.
“You men have a restful night,” he said, an unctuous tone to his voice. “We’ll have breakfast for you then you can be on your way.”
As he closed the door he locked it with a large padlock and took a deep breath. Now they were trapped.
“I have locked them in the barn,” he told his wife as he re-entered the house. “They can’t get out, no way. Early in the morning I’ll go for the Gestapo.”
“I felt something was not right about them,” she said. “Then I got a glimpse of a number tattooed on the forearm of one of them. I don’t think he knew I saw it.”
“It doesn’t matter now, they’re locked in.”
The fugitives were warm, dry and well fed. They were also aware of the locked door. That wasn’t so unusual given the fact they were total strangers in a time of war. But they also had no intension of remaining locked in the barn. Pierre began to search for possibilities for a break out. The first thing he noticed was the timber used for the walls. It was 4 inches thick, as was the door. There were no hay loft windows or any other doors. The perimeter footings were concrete. After his inspection he sat down.
“I’m not sure we can get out. This place is a fortress.”
“Are there any tools, a shovel or a hand ax?” Hans asked.
“I found an old shovel, but the handle is split. Besides, we would have to dig under the perimeter concrete footings. We would have to tunnel our way out. That might take a day or so.”
The men fell silent.
“I have a solution,” Hans said suddenly. “We can blow our way out.”
Pierre was perturbed by the attempt at comedy.
“Yes, that’s right, Hans. We’ll huff and we’ll puff. Look, this is no time for joking. We’re locked in and he may be going for the Gestapo as we speak. Save your wisecracks…and your breath.”
Hans looked at both men but he was not smiling.
“I don’t plan on using my breath,” he said dryly. “I have a grenade.” “What! Where did you get a grenade?”
Finally Hans felt as if he was contributing.
“The elder in charge of block-24, the block responsible for stealing the grenades, was one of us. The case of grenades did not have the usual dozen. Instead, there were 13. He gave me the extra. I have kept it pinned to my belt, covered by my jacket.
Pierre stared back at him. “Well I’ll be damned…an accountant turned soldier. I will give you a battlefield promotion.”
“I’ll take it,” Hans said with a grin. “How about you call me General Ulrich?” The men were now convinced of two things. One, they had no way to escape the barn. Secondly, Heirholzer intended to turn them in. Their only option was to use the grenade and blow a hole in the barn wall. It was a significant risk. Any Nazi troops nearby might come. But it was their only chance.
None of the men knew the terrain. They needed light and they also needed sleep. Their zero-hour had to be around 5:00 a.m.
“Agreed,” said Hans.
Pierre glanced over at Roland who was staring at the ground. “Roland? What is it?”
“I was just thinking of the locksmith, Lazar. We’re here because of him. Okay, so 5:00 a.m. it is. We can all get five hours of sleep. I’ll take the first shift.”
No one had a wristwatch so the zero hour would be a guess.
Pierre took the last shift. After the meal and sleep he was refreshed and ready to get out of the barn. He decided to wake the others when he could see any sign of daylight through a crack in the barn door. As it happened, the time was 5:30 a.m.
The men decided to blow out the wall at the far end of the barn, away from the mules. They would stack bales of hay between the grenade and the interior, then each would barricade himself behind a bale at the opposite end of the barn.
Kurt Heirholzer was ready to take hay to his stock. There was less to do in the winter although today would be an exception. He gathered eggs from the laying hens but didn’t enter the barn. Instead, he had a second cup of coffee. By this time Fran was up and making biscuits. They would have breakfast and then drive the 35 minutes to the police office in the nearest town. It was a small two-man office. The sergeant would likely have to call for help in arresting the escaped prisoners. It seemed straight forward. Heirholzer had walked around the barn slowly and saw nothing disturbed. He knew they could not escape the barn. He had built it himself.
By 6:00 a.m. the couple was sitting down for hot biscuits and scrambled eggs. In an instant the still of the country morning was shattered. The explosion rocked the silence, rattled the windows of their home, blowing out the rear window in the back of the house. The sound of the percussion brought the farmer to his feet.
“What the hell!”He ran quickly to get his old shotgun perched on the wall over the fireplace, his mind racing to think what could have exploded.
The grenade ripped a huge hole in the wall of the barn and immediately the three were out and racing to the wooded area about 100 yards across a meadow. Heirholzer, shotgun in hand, saw them running but knew they were too far away for him to get off a shot. As he turned back to the barn he was gripped by a horrible sight. The explosion had ignited a portion of dry hay and smoke was pouring out of the hole in the barn wall. He ran to the house to get the padlock key.
“The barn’s on fire….get some buckets,” he yelled.
He ran out to the barn, hand shaking, and had trouble getting the key in the lock. Finally the lock was disengaged. As he swung the door open the two terrified mules ran out of the burning structure. Now the entire end of the barn was engulfed in flames. The nearest neighbor was four miles away. He and his wife stood hopelessly watching as the fire consumed the entire structure. What had taken him three and a half months to build was gone in less than an hour.
Within the hour the fugitive trio was deep in the woods and three miles away. They stopped for a breather, enjoying their wool coats courtesy of one Kurt Heirholzer. Roland was the first to speak.
“From certain capture, to hearty meal, to a good sleep and warm coats,” he said, raising his hand as though giving a toast. “We’ve had a good 24 hours.”
They were still concerned about the possibility of being caught and could not have known that Kurt Heirholzer never made it to town. But they did soon learn they were only 10 kilometers from Allied lines. Pierre Oberaud was wearing a dirty white shirt which they used as a truce signal to get safely into Allied hands by that afternoon.
* * *
Anna soaked in the tub for almost an hour. The water was no longer warm and her freshly washed hair contributed to the cold. She dried off and donned the cotton dress and sweater. She was embarrassed to have no undergarments. Hers had long since rotted. It had been months since she had been able to adequately deal with her feminine issues. Greta was a great help in that area. As she entered the main living area of the farmhouse, she was greeted by Johann.
“Feel better?” He asked.
“Much, thank you. We had weekly showers but no soap. Soap is wonderful. I have a new appreciation for it now.”
Anna was still trying to grasp what had happened to her in the past 24 hours. She had been a prisoner at Buchenwald, singled out for execution, left on a deserted road in a perfidious murder scam, then wound up in a farmhouse and a bathtub filled with hot water. Was she dreaming?
“We saved you some breakfast,” Greta said, breaking Anna’s thoughts. “Would you have a cup of tea?”
“Yes, for the tea and breakfast.”
Anna enjoyed the tea and home baked bread as much as the bath. She was anxious to know more about Greta and Johann. Greta took Anna back through the story of their lives, how they met, their children, their simple life-style and finally, their work in the underground. Anna could imagine there were hundreds, perhaps thousands of good German people like the Thieles who were risking their lives every day. Greta did not want to inquire of Anna, but Anna did briefly share about her parents, her life in Berlin and her work at the University. She did not mention that she had saved the life of Ernst Bishoff, but she was curious to know of the man in the barn
“What can you tell me about him…if anything,” she asked. “Will he be coming into the house?”
“I can tell you what I know which is not much. His name is Josef. He was brought to us in mid-January and apparently had escaped a death march from Auschwitz, a camp in Poland. When he was brought here, he weighed about 90 pounds…just skin and bones. In two months he has gained 30 pounds. He stays in the barn and sleeps in a small storage room. We placed a wood burning stove there for him and vented it. He refused to sleep in the house. But he takes breakfast and dinner with us and sometimes takes walks. He’s very distant and speaks very little. We haven’t asked about his experiences.”
That afternoon, Anna saw him. Josef was walking in a meadow that bordered the farm. He climbed the fence that contained the sheep. She noticed that he was rather tall, about six feet and very thin. She only saw him briefly and never saw his face. Anna had heard of the death camps in Poland. She suspected the trauma had overwhelmed him.
Anna looked forward to the evening meal. She wanted to become better acquainted with Johann and Greta, and Josef if possible. It might be another month or so before they could be liberated. She was anxious to be able to return to Buchenwald to look for Eric. She had tried not to think about him too much but prayed daily for his safety.
Anna soon learned that the evening meal was a reward for a hard days work. Greta and Johann were sturdy 50-year olds who put in long days. Their living was meager but rewarding. They were sitting with Anna by the fire when Josef entered. Anna stood up to greet the man.
“Hello, I’m Anna,” she said, extending her hand.
“Anna,” Josef said politely as he shook her hand. He sat down on the sofa and stared into the fire. Anna stared at him. She was surprised at his youthful appearance. He had sharp angular features and a crop of dark hair, windblown and unkempt. His face was kind. She thought he might be handsome with another month of good food.
The evening was pleasant although Josef said nothing during the meal. When they finished eating he stood to leave, thanked Greta, then excused himself.
Over the next week the process with Josef repeated itself. Each day he walked, exchanged polite greetings, and disappeared after dinner. He remained withdrawn and unresponsive.
One evening after dinner Anna decided to attempt dialogue. She felt even the most grievous experience could be overcome if it could be shared.
“Josef,” she said softly. “Can you tell us about Auschwitz?”
He gave no sign of surprise. “What do you want to know?”
Josef looked at the floor. His eyes filled with tears. He did not respond for several minutes.
“Are you sure you want to know?”
“Yes.”
“Auschwitz…it was a place for killing. My wife and I were deported there along with our three-year-old son. We were taken in December of 1943. We had been living in a ghetto in Krakow where I was a school teacher. We were the last of the Jewish people to go. When we arrived I was separated from my family. I didn’t see them again. I was given a job…the task of collecting the clothing of those who went to the gas chambers. Then I was made to move the dead to the crematoriums. I was one of the sondercommandos…the crematorium warriors. Every day thousands of innocent people…men, women, children…were thrown into the ovens. They literally disappeared up the chimney.
During my second week there, I was collecting clothes of the people killed that day. I found my wife’s dress and her shoes. They were in a pile with my son’s playsuit. The gas chambers…they were disguised as showers. There were holding pens where several hundred people would stand…and signs that read ‘to the baths and disinfecting rooms.’ Most of the time symphony music was played on loud speakers…Mozart, Bach. SS officers would stand on wooden towers above the pens. They shouted for everyone to remove their clothes. Of course, the men and women were reluctant to do this. If they were too slow the officers would come down and beat them. Children clung to their parents and those without parents to each other. They were told to place their clothes in neat piles so they could find them after the showers.
The people tried to comfort each other. They spoke in Polish or Yiddish. Before the gas chamber door opened, most were already dazed with fear. They knew something dreadful was going to happen. They could feel it…my god, they were standing there naked with guards ready to beat them. Of course, they were scared…how could they not know was about to happen?
I remember a young mother undressing her daughter. The child looked about two years old. Then the mother took her own clothes off. She held the child in her arms and rocked her from side to side. They were a picture of my wife and son. They were going to their deaths….naked and afraid.
The chamber doors…they were plated steel on rollers. Inside the concrete structure there were pillars, some to support the ceiling, some to hold the Zyklon-B cyanide pellets. There were shower heads in the ceiling to deceive the victims. As the doors rolled open the SS officers would scream for the people to get in. After the doors were shut, some of the officers liked to look through glass in the doors to watch them dying. Then two men with gas masks would get on top of the roof and pour the cyanide pellets into open cylinders that went into the chamber. These cylinders had perforations to allow the poison gas to escape into the chamber.
I saw this. I heard the coughing and the screaming. The people would bang on the doors. And then the screaming would stop…usually within 10 minutes or so…and then everything would be quiet. The exhaust fans would clear the chamber. Then when the doors were opened the bodies would tumble out, usually the stronger men first because they were able to claw their way to the door. Pregnant women sometimes in late term, had partially delivered their babies…the head would be expelled out of the birth canal.
Sondercommandos would pull the bodies out amid excrement and vomit. Each adult was checked by German orderlies for jewelry and gold fillings and these would be removed. Then the bodies were transported to the crematoria. This was done in large dumpsters on rails.
Most of the clothing I collected had a yellow Star of David sewn on the front of the garment. The clothes, shoes and eye glasses were all saved, obviously of more value than human lives. My job was to collect the clothing and then load the bodies into the ovens. In the last few months, to save time and expenses, many of the younger children were thrown alive into the ovens. I witnessed all of this. Auschwitz was a place for killing!”
Auschwitz was liberated on January 27, 1945. The Germans tried to destroy the gas chambers and crematoria with dynamite. Auschwitz, however, was only one of many death camps. Most, if not all of them, kept Totenbuch or death books. But all were incomplete and many of them destroyed. The final number of deaths has been estimated by most scholars to be between five and six million souls.
* * *
In the spring of 1945, the end came quickly. The 1,000-year reign predicted by Hitler for the Third Reich ended after a laconic 12 years. The fall of the Ruhr industrial area in west central Germany was key. The area was bordered by three rivers; the Rhine to the west, the Ruhr to the south, and the Lippe to the north. About 80 percent of German coal and steel production was centered in the Ruhr. Allied forces mounted a successful campaign to encircle and capture this area. In doing so, they captured several hundred thousand Wehrmacht troops. Coal was the dominant energy source for all of Germany and after the loss of the Rumanian and Hungarian oil fields, there was a critical shortage of aviation fuel for fighters and petrol for tanks.
The hope for ‘miracle weapons’ was a sophistry. Launching sites for the V-2 were lost with the occupation of the French and Belgian coasts. It was true that Germany had developed a jet fighter, and that the conventional Allied prop planes were no match for the jets. But they required a special type of fuel and the few refineries for this fuel production had been taken out with precision bombing. These planes also needed longer runways which were easy to spot and destroy.
The effort to develop a successful fission bomb never materialized. After the defection of Hanz Eichenwald, Werner Heisenberg became head of the project. Heisenberg was an outstanding physicist and was made director of the Kaiser Wilhelm Institute of Physics. He may have opposed the development of an atomic bomb on moral grounds but he may also have realized that Germany would need large amounts of Uranium 235 which had to be separated from U-238, a process that was both extremely difficult and expensive. For whatever the reason, during a meeting with Albert Speer, minister of munitions, Heisenberg did not pursue development of the bomb. This, despite the fact that nuclear fission had first been achieved in Germany just four years earlier in 1938 by Otto Hahn. As it turned out, Hitler had little understanding of fission and even less interest.
By mid-March the Germans had lost another 350,000 men who were killed, wounded or captured. Hitler was desperate. In a prolonged meeting with his generals and in a fit of rage, he contemplated completely denouncing the Geneva Convention and executing all POW’s. Most of his staff objected to this policy on legal grounds and as a result, it was never established. Still, hundreds of POWs perished when forced on long marches without adequate food or water.
Thousands of German troops gave themselves up as quickly as possible to the advancing British-American forces. Nazi generals and military leaders were fanatical in their reprisals. On one occasion early on the afternoon of March seventh, units of the 9th U.S. Armored Division approached a railroad bridge over the Rhine at Ludendorff. They expected the bridge to be destroyed. When it was not, their tanks poured across and drove back a weak German defense force. By the end of the day the Americans had a strong bridgehead on the east bank. Soon after, the eight officers in charge of defending the bridge were executed by a special ‘Flying Tribunal’ that had been set up by the Fuehrer. There were no second chances with Hitler.
Over the next few weeks, the Nazi Supreme Commander was becoming a physical wreck. His vengeance turned from the advancing enemy to his own troops and the German people. His railing against his commanders grew to a fever pitch. In meeting after meeting, he stood before them flushed with rage and trembling. He would complete his tirades with truculent outbursts at individual staff members. It was during one of these outbursts that he made one of the last momentous decisions of his life. On March 19th he issued a general order to make Germany a vast wasteland. All military, industrial, communication and transportation facilities were to be destroyed. Nothing would be left to help the German people endure their defeat.
Fortunately, before the ‘scorched earth’ policy was handed down, it had been anticipated by Albert Speer, Minister for Armament and War Production. On March fifteenth, he drew up a memorandum in which he strongly opposed the policy. He presented his views to Hitler on March eighteenth. It said in part:
“In four to eight weeks the final collapse of the German economy must be expected with certainty. . .After that collapse the war cannot be continued even militarily . . . We must do everything to maintain, even if only in a most primitive manner, a basis for the existence of the nation to the last. . .We have no right at this stage of the war, to carry out demolitions which might affect the life of the people.”
Hitler was unmoved. The next day the egregious policy was handed down. It was more comprehensive than could be imagined and called for the destruction of all industrial plants, water works, gas works, electrical facilities, food and clothing stores, railway and communication installations, canals, ships, bridges, railcars, and locomotives – all of them. But the country was spared this catastrophe, in part by the rapid Allied advances and also by the adroit, almost superhuman efforts of Speer. He mobilized military personnel who, in direct opposition to Hitler’s orders, raced about the country to make certain the plan was not carried out.
Once the German forces in the Ruhr were trapped, some 21 divisions, the Nazi defense front was split leaving a 200-mile gap open to the Elbe River and the heart of Germany. On April eleventh, a spearhead reached the Elbe near Magburg. The U.S. Ninth Army was now only 60 miles from Berlin.
Another significant event was occurring about 100 miles south at Buchenwald. While the Germans were preparing to evacuate the camp, they discovered block-66 and the 600 Jewish boys. On April tenth, Julian Richburg was ordered to have all children in the camp on the parade ground at 10:00 a.m. to evacuate the camp. Now that the SS had been made aware that children were being hidden, he had no choice. So there they were, hundreds of Jewish boys standing before the gate waiting for it to be opened. More than 60,000 prisoners, including all the women, had already left the camp. As the guards were preparing to open the gates, two U.S. P-51 Mustang fighter planes suddenly made a low-level pass over the camp. History records the planes as coming ‘out of nowhere’ with roaring engines soaring at about 500 ft. As sirens sounded throughout the camp, all of the guards scattered, and the boys ran back to their barracks. That was the last time Julian Richburg and Beryl Yenzer saw uniformed German soldiers. The following day, advance elements of the American Third Army, commanded by General George Patton, arrived and drove the remaining Nazis from the camp. The American soldiers found some 21,000 starving prisoners still holding on to life in the hell of Buchenwald.
Master Sergeant Paten Johnson from Provo, Utah, was astonished when he opened the door to block-66. He stared at the faces of more than 600 Jewish boys who had been saved by two Jewish underground operatives. Within days, the international Red Cross set up a relief station to care for the Buchenwald survivors…among them a large burly man named Beryl Yenzer. He was holding a small and very frail four-year old boy named Eric.
Nuremberg was the city of the great Nazi rallies of the ’30s, rallies in which Hitler would address up to 50,000 party faithful at a time, with his orotund speeches. By April 16, 1945, Nuremberg was occupied by American forces - on the same day Russian troops broke loose from their bridgeheads over the Oder River and marched to the outskirts of Berlin. On the afternoon of April twenty-fifth, patrols of the U.S. 69th Infantry Division met elements of the Russian 58th Guard Division at a village called Torgue, on the Elbe River. North and South Germany were severed, and Hitler was trapped in Berlin. The last days of the Third Reich were at hand.
In Berlin, the thunder of Russian heavy artillery could be heard. Hitler had returned for the final time on January sixteenth. His plan was to eventually make it to his mountain Villa, the Berghof, at Berchtesgaden in the mountains of Barbarossa. On April tenth, he sent his house staff but he himself was cut-off and could not join them.
Since the attempt on his life the previous July, he had grown distrustful of everyone. He was living in his bunker 50 feet below the bombed out Chancellery. He fumed to one of his secretaries.
“I can rely on no one. They all betray me. The whole business makes me sick….If anything happens to me, Germany will be left without a leader. I have no successor. Hess is mad, Goering has lost the sympathy of the people, and Himmler would be rejected by the party – besides, he is so completely inartistic….Rack your brain and tell me who my successor is to be!”
Strange, with the disastrous end staring him in the face, this physical wreck of a man was obsessed with who would be his successor, as if there would be anything to succeed to. In a bizarre paradigm, a few of his most fanatical followers clung to the hope they would be saved by a last-minute miracle. Goebbels above all embraced this hope.
One evening in the bunker, Goebbels was reading to Hitler from the History of Frederich the Great, the King of Prussia from 1740 to1786. This war hero frequently led his forces into battle personally and reportedly had several horses shot out from under him. He was admired as a tactical genius. Hitler identified with this man who had established Prussia as one of the five European powers of the day. Like Frederich, who took no pleasure from his popularity with the Volk and instead, preferred the company of his pet greyhounds, Hitler also had strained relationships with those around him - but he loved his pets.
The last portion read by Goebbels went as follows:
“Brave King! Wait yet a little while, and the days of your suffering will be over. Already the sun of your good fortune stands behind the clouds and will soon rise on you.”
Hitler’s eyes filled with tears. He wanted to search for the ‘good fortune’ that he believed would be bestowed on him.
The following day Goebbels acquired two horoscopes. One for the Fuehrer, drawn up the day he became Chancellor; the other of the Weimar Republic, composed by an obscure astrologer at the birth of the Republic in 1918. Both horoscopes had made similar predictions. Amazingly, both predicted the outbreak of the war in 1939, the early victories of 1941, and the reversals for the German forces leading up to 1945. In April they predicted temporary successes. Just as in the Seven Years’ War, when the death of Czarina brought about a ‘miracle’ to the House of Brandenburg, Goebbels was expecting a death that could change the fortunes of this war.
Goebbels returned to Berlin the next night after yet another RAF bombing. The remains of the Chancellery and the Adlon Hotel were burning. As he ascended the steps to the Propaganda Ministry, he was approached by an aid with ‘urgent news’. The aid shouted, “Roosevelt has died!”
* * *
Anna had spent an amazing four weeks with Greta and Johann. She had not only gained her weight back but had experienced a great deal of emotional and spiritual healing. She saw Josef at meals. She had worked to befriend him but had little success. She understood he might never recover from the trauma of Auschwitz. She was not certain she could recover given the same experience. And she knew she didn’t have the skills or the knowledge to help him.
In long conversations with Greta, Anna told her own short history and the stories about how she had become a surgeon, fallen in love, fled the Nazis and lost Christian. With the story of Josef in Auschwitz and her own experiences at Buchenwald, she felt blessed to be alive. She did not yet know that approximately 6,000,000 Jewish men, women and children had perished at the hands of the Nazi Reich. But she knew she had designed a new goal for her life. She would find Eric and raise him as her own. She had first considered this when she placed his feeding tube in the hope of saving his life. When the boy survived, she began to love him. Was he a gift from God? Was he the child she would never have with Christian?
The news traveled quickly once Buchenwald was liberated. Within seven days Allied forces had moved rapidly to within a day’s travel to Berlin. Anna felt it was safe to make the short journey to Buchenwald. Johann agreed to take her in his truck. They were now in Allied occupied territory except that Anna had no documentation of her identity.
During the 20-minute ride they encountered one Allied check point. They were allowed to pass when Johann explained that Anna had been a prisoner and was returning to look for a child. Anna displayed her forearm tattoo to the inquiring corporal, who seemed bewildered to find that human beings were apparently branded like live stock. It was also the first time Anna and Johann had traveled in open country without any sight of Nazi military. This fact alone was testimony to the truth - the war was indeed over - or almost over.
Buchenwald was different and yet the same. There were about 50 workers with the Red Cross team and a medical team from France. Their goal was to save as many of the starving 20,000 in the camp as possible. A detachment of Belgian military had been left to aid in this effort. Most of the Belgian troops spoke some German, enough to help Anna learn what she needed to know. It was quickly apparent that the children were not there. They had been sent to a holding area in Dresden, another 50 kilometers south-east of Leipzig. Anna was disappointed but not discouraged. She was able to accomplish two important things with the aid of the Red Cross. She sent word to her family and she received identity papers.
It had been more than three years since Hanz and Marlena Eichenwald had seen or heard from their daughter. They had settled onto life in England with the academic teaching appointment for their livelihood. They both spoke their new language with thick German accents, Hanz better than his wife. Hanz was highly respected in his field of Quantum physics and had been a stellar addition to the department at Cambridge.
Marlena had made a few friends among the faculty wives, but she knew that as Germans, she and Hans were eyed with suspicion when they were away from the University. They had been able to find a synagogue and had met several Jewish couples there. One man was a physician who had fled Denmark just prior to German occupation.
Not a day went by that Marlena did not think of Anna. They had heard of the death camps and work camps. Marlena prayed that Anna was alive, but deep in her heart she feared the worst. She knew about the gas chambers. She would think of this and shut her eyes and her mind to the thought of her daughter being taken there. Hanz, on the otherhand, was an optimist. He believed that Anna was alive. Perhaps she was being hidden by the underground and they would soon hear from her. A number of concentration/death camps had been in the BBC news reports. Buchenwald was on the list. Hanz paid little attention. Marlena had the names memorized.
The cablegram arrived on a Tuesday morning. It came from the International Red Cross – and from Buchenwald. Marlena did not open it. She couldn’t make her hands move. She knew the Allies had liberated the camp and that there would be a death list. Was this the formal notification of her precious daughter’s demise?
She sat in the main room of the flat and felt the grief descending through her body into her heart. She tried to conjure up old memories of their times together. She tried not to cry.
Hanz came home at his usual 6:00 p.m. When he walked in the door he knew immediately that something was wrong. The house was dark and he called out to his wife.
“Marlena!”
“In here,” was the quiet, labored response.
Hanz walked into the room. He could not see the unopened envelope on the end table. “Do we have news of Anna?”
“Yes.”
“A cablegram?”
“Yes! There on the table.”
Hanz saw the envelope, unopened. “So, you have not read it?”
Marlena was silent and shook her head from side to side. Hanz quickly opened the envelope and his eyes searched the contents. Then he smiled and slowly sank down beside his wife.
“Duleiber himmel!”
Hearing her husband cry out ‘good heavens,” Marlena began to laugh and cry simultaneously.
“She’s alive?”
“Listen,” he said, “I have survived and am well….searching for my child! God is good! Will explain later. Love, Anna.”
Marlena almost shouted, “Anna has a child?” She sat back slowly as the tears flowed. “Anna has a child.”
The International Red Cross was overwhelmed and faced thousands of problems. Other aid agencies were on their way, but it might be weeks before help arrived. Their priority now was to save lives. It would have been a tragedy for a man to have lived through starvation, beatings, torture and abuse, only to die after the Nazis left. But in truth, many had irreversible nutritional problems, typhus, intestinal parasites, or tuberculosis. These were at least the most common problems. Close to 1,000 men needed hospitalization which was impossible. Red Cross workers were putting in 15-hour days and that was all anyone could ask.
When Anna returned to the farm, she filled Greta in on the situation at Buchenwald. There was no sign of Colonel Bishoff or any German soldiers. Greta and Johann had no money of significance but had a small savings of 500 marks hidden in the floor. They gave Anna 75 marks and searched to find her a ride to Leipzig. They belonged to a co-op of 10 dairy farmers who sent milk twice weekly to Leipzig for pasteurization. The driver agreed to take her to the center of the city after dropping the milk delivery. Anna said good-by to her dear friends and vowed she would stay in touch with them when and if the postal service returned to normal.
Little had changed in the Leipzig landscape, but everything had changed politically. The ball-bearing plant had been leveled. Other than that, things looked the same with the exception of the flags with swastikas that used to fly. These were gone, as were the Gestapo and SS. Anna reminded herself as she walked by the University Hospital toward Sarah’s apartment, that the swastika emblem had derived from Sanskrit and its original meaning was ‘good luck.’ That meaning would never be denoted again from the swastika. It would forever symbolize evil. But she was pleasantly surprised to realize too, that this once feared symbol of the Nazi Reich was gone and would never return.
It was about 3:00 p.m. on a beautiful spring day. Fluffy clouds drifted lazily above and flowering plum trees were beginning to bloom. Anna passed the Mendelssohn-Haus, then turned onto Goldschmidtstrasse to Sarah’s apartment. She sat on the front steps. As she thought of seeing her dear friend, she began to smile.
“She’ll think I’m a ghost,” she whispered aloud with a smile.
Anna’s thoughts drifted back to her days in the resistance, working with Landis Kohler and Max. The risks were great and so were the rewards. Many had died for the cause and none more courageously than Sophie Scholl and the students of the White Rose. Anna silently prayed that the bravery of those students would not be forgotten and the freedom from tyranny they sought would always be defended.
Anna kept her eye out for Sarah. She always took the same route home. As a slight breeze blew the strands of thick black hair across her brow, Anna realized she was beginning to think like a woman again. The clothes given her by Greta were thread bare and faded. Anna laughed to herself. At least they were better than prison garb. It was at that instant that Sarah rounded the corner and began to walk towards Anna. Anna continued sitting, knowing Sarah had not seen her, then stood and turned toward her.
They made eye contact. Sarah slowed to a full stop. For a brief moment she seemed confused. Then she let out a shriek and began running. Anna did the same. The two ran into each other’s arms, both in tears. Sarah was the first to speak,
“Anna! Anna! I can’t believe you’re here. I can’t believe you’re safe, alive.” Tears streamed down their faces.
“Yes, yes! Sarah, I’m safe, I’m alive.”