The Girl from Berlin, #1 Page 23

  “Oh God! Do you think he’ll yell at us too?”

  “Most likely. You know how it is, the messenger who brings the bad news is the one who gets shot first.”

  “But it’s not like it’s our fault? We’re just decoding messages.”

  Barbara, just like most of the staff at the SD, was terrified of Heydrich. Cold and unemotional, with a heart as warm as a piece of ice (if he had a heart at all), Gruppenführer Heydrich was prone to violence not only toward the “inferior races” outside the Reich, but also found some sadistic pleasure in torturing his fellow Germans, sometimes emotionally (and here his own staff was no exception), sometimes literally (from time to time offering “a hand” to the main Gestapo executor, Gruppenführer Müller). No wonder that the Führer called him the man with the iron heart. A perfect Nazi.

  “We’re decoding something that he doesn’t want to hear. And he considers it our fault.”

  “Oh, Annalise! I wish I could be as calm as you.”

  “So relax. What is he going to do? Kill us? No. We’ll get our yelling just like everybody else and will happily go home to sleep. No big deal. No different from any other day.”

  I finally made Barbara smile.

  “I’ll just keep reminding myself that I’m helping my country.”

  “Good idea, Barbara. That’s exactly how I start every morning: I stand in front of the mirror and keep repeating ‘I love my job’ till I get sick.”

  She giggled, and I sighed. I wasn’t lying, for the past nine months I was really standing in front of the mirror every single morning trying to persuade myself that it was all worth doing; the dark uniform with SS runes on it, my work in SD, which sometimes included intercepting messages from the Allies, sometimes pretending to be one of their agents and spreading disinformation, and last, but not least, the cherry on top of it all, my boss Gruppenführer Heydrich, whom I hated with all my heart.

  I finally understood what Heinrich meant when he told me not to think of him as a good man: even though he was a double agent, he was still pretending to be a faithful Nazi fighting for the victory of the Reich. And now I became one of the Nazis. Literally. After two months of both physical and ideological training, I for the first time put on my SS uniform and hated my own reflection.

  Since that day, despite all the underground work I was doing, I was still helping the Reich, even though not willingly but I was still harming the Allies, and sometimes I couldn’t help but ask myself if all the underground work outweighed all the damage I kept causing day after day. A Jewish SS-Helferin. If my grandmother saw me on the street wearing my military uniform, she would have strangled me. I wouldn’t blame her. Sometimes I was getting very close to strangling myself. Both her and my parents were sure that I was still working for my old ballet company. I was only twenty years old and already lying to my family about my job. And about my second, illegal job. That’s what the Reich did to me.

  “Ladies?” Heydrich’s adjutant stuck his head inside the room, interrupting my thoughts. “You can go home. We are done for today. Thank you for staying late. Heil Hitler.”

  He didn’t look happy, but was still trying to be polite with us. We both responded with a tired “Heil Hitler” and reached for our purses. That day was finally over.

  Heinrich refused to go home until I was done and was waiting for me in his office. When I opened the door to his office myself (he let his adjutant go a long time ago), I found him nodding in his chair. He had relaxed his tie and unbuttoned a couple of buttons on his shirt.

  “Heinrich,” I called him quietly. He didn’t react, and I slightly touched his shoulder. “Sweetheart, wake up.”

  He opened his eyes and straightened out in his chair right away – a military habit. Even in the morning he would get up right after he would open his eyes. I for one couldn’t stop hugging my pillow begging for another five minutes.

  “Any news?”

  “Yes, darling. Unfortunately, only bad. The British have Enigma.”

  A wide smile crossed his face and he gave me a tight hug, still sitting in his chair. I stroked his hair and kissed him on the top of his head. We couldn’t openly congratulate each other in the main SD office, and nonverbal communication was the only one available for the moment.

  “That’s absolutely terrible. Do you think they’ll be able to crack it?”

  “It’s just a matter of time, but I’m sure they will, and then they’ll be able to decode all of our messages. It’s really devastating.”

  We looked each other in the eye. Yes, it was all worth doing after all.

  Berlin, September 1941

  * * *

  Ursula’s baby girl kept reaching for the cross on my wrist no matter how many times I was pulling it away from her tiny hands. I was wearing it all the time now, taking it off only to take a shower, but even then it was laying right there on the sink, within a hand’s reach. As my husband once said, you can never be too careful.

  “I’m so jealous!” Ursula put down her cup and sighed. “I can’t believe you’re going to Poland. Never have children, dear, it’s just too much work. I’m missing everything! I still can’t forgive myself for not going to Paris with you and Heinrich.”

  “You couldn’t even walk because of your belly when we were leaving for Paris!” I laughed and shifted little Greta on my lap so she would leave my cross alone. “And don’t be upset, France is a part of the Reich now, so you can go there anytime you want.”

  “You brought so many beautiful dresses from there! It’s impossible to get something like that here! I wanted to go shopping in Paris with you so bad!”

  “What’s the point? I’m not even wearing those dresses now, except for on special occasions and weekends. The rest of the time – uniform, uniform, uniform. I’m so sick of it already! So don’t complain. You at least can wear patterns.”

  Ursula chuckled and shook her head.

  “Well, you can travel for work, though.”

  “Trust me, it’s not the kind of travel you want to do.”

  Ursula looked at me, confused.

  “What are you talking about? Last time we were in Poland we had so much fun!”

  “Last time we were in a big city as tourists. I’m not going to the city. I’m going to a concentration camp, and, trust me, that’s the last place I want to go to.”

  “Why did you agree then?”

  I shrugged.

  “Because I haven’t seen my brother for more than a year. He just doesn’t sound right in his letters. He wasn’t happy with his position as a ghetto guard, but since he’s been transferred to Auschwitz, he just… I don’t know. I’m really worried for him. Good thing that Gruppenführer Heydrich needs a stenographer for his upcoming inspection, and I almost begged him on my knees to take me with him. This way I’ll be able to at least talk to Norbert myself, to see how he lives there, how the conditions are… Maybe ask Gruppenführer to transfer him here, to Berlin.”

  “Do you think he’d agree to that?”

  “I don’t know. He’s not a person who does favors. But I’m still hoping.”

  Heinrich was very much against me going as well. Till the last day when I was already packing a little suitcase, he kept asking me if I would change my mind. Finally, I couldn’t take him following me around the room and sat on the bed, still holding a folded shirt on my knees.

  “Heinrich, I really have to go. I need to see Norbert. I need to make sure that he’s all right.”

  “You understand that among the things that you will also have to see will be barracks and inmates?”

  “I’m well aware of that.”

  “It’s not a place a woman should see.”

  “And nevertheless many Jewish women are in that place.”

  “They didn’t have a choice.”

  “Well, it looks like neither did my brother.” I placed the shirt on top of the other things already in the suitcase and patted the spot next to me, inviting my husband to sit beside me. “Maybe I’ll be able t
o persuade Gruppenführer Heydrich to transfer him someplace else.”

  Heinrich sighed, but sat next to me.

  “I’m worried about you. You can blow your cover.”

  “Why would I blow my cover?” I was genuinely surprised by his words. After all I was just a part of the inspection staff and wasn’t going to do anything illegal.

  “You couldn’t stand the sight of one little thirsty girl when your parents were leaving. Now imagine a hundred starving, mistreated, beaten children, walking around looking like skeletons and looking at you with their big helpless eyes. You will start your protesting again, and Heydrich will leave you right there along with them.”

  I didn’t think of that. Or actually I was trying not to think of that.

  “I won’t start any protesting, I promise. I’ll just follow him, my head in my notepad, trying not to look around. Deal?”

  Heinrich sadly nodded and kissed me on my forehead.

  “Let me know when you’re ready, I’ll take you to the station.”

  He left the room, and I asked myself once again, how my life could change so drastically in the course of just three years. Just three short years ago I was a happy and carefree girl with a dream job in a ballet company, a loving family, a beautiful house, friends, hopes… What happened to her? The house was signed over to the Party in order to stop any suspicions concerning my father’s whereabouts, family had to find a refuge in a different country, brother forced into the military, and ballet shoes and a tutu were replaced by leather boots, black SS uniform, and a cross with a cyanide capsule in it. The Reich took it all from me.

  I involuntarily touched an eagle sewn onto the left sleeve of my uniform jacket, and suddenly got ashamed of my own thoughts. I was still alive after all. My family was alive and not forced into labor camps like the rest of the Jewish population. I had a wonderful husband and an opportunity to fight against my fascist government, and that alone was making me glad. I closed the suitcase, put on my military side hat, leather gloves, and went downstairs. The whining days are over. Time to fight.

  “Would you like us to bring you something to eat, Annalise? Some coffee, maybe?”

  I smiled at the two officers at the door of my coupe and shook my head.

  “No, I’m fine, thank you.”

  “Are you sure? We’re arriving in about half an hour, and then God knows when we’ll have time for a snack.”

  “I’m sure. I’m really not hungry. Thank you again.”

  They nodded and slid the door closed behind them. I was the only woman on the almost twenty-people inspection team, and I had to give my SD “brothers” that, they treated me like a princess. Throughout the whole trip they made sure that I was as comfortable as I could be, taking care of my suitcase, coffee and even leaving our coupe when they had to smoke. I was more than happy that the snobby Heydrich would only share his coupe with his adjutant, and therefore I didn’t have to see his face at all during the trip.

  My companions came back right before the train started slowing down, and in several minutes we stopped at the station, from where we were supposed to take cars and drive the rest of the way. We could easily make it to Auschwitz by the same train, but Gruppenführer Heydrich found it distasteful to take the same route as the Jewish transports took. He tried to distance himself from the “filthy Jews” as much as he could.

  I’d never been to a concentration camp before and was very nervous when we approached the gates with an Arbeit Macht Frei sign on them. “Work brings you freedom.” Even the officers in the car stopped their chit-chat and were looking around with pensive looks on their faces. The whole atmosphere was morbid and gloomy, and I definitely could see why Norbert was so sick of this place.

  As we stepped out of the car I immediately walked closer to Gruppenführer Heydrich’s adjutant and took my notepad and pencil out just in case they needed something written down. Heydrich meanwhile was introducing his closest officers to the camp Kommandant, Rudolf Höss. The latter was visibly surprised to see a woman among the staff and motioned his head in my direction.

  “This is my stenographer, Annalise Friedmann,” Heydrich explained with visible reluctance. “Her brother is one of your guards, and she was pestering me for several days to come along to see him. Normally I wouldn’t allow that, but she’s the fastest in our office and hardly ever makes a mistake.”

  I faked an embarrassed smile.

  “I don’t remember having any Friedmanns under my command.” The Kommandant gave me a confused look.

  “My maiden name is Meissner, Herr Kommandant. My brother is Norbert Meissner.”

  “Oh, right, Meissner. Good soldier. Never any problems with him.” Höss turned to Heydrich again, absolutely ignoring me for the rest of the inspection. “Herr Gruppenführer, what would you like to start with?”

  Even though I promised Heinrich to keep my head in my notepad the whole time, it was simply impossible to ignore what was going on around us. Walking around the vast camp territory like a king observing his people, who all had to immediately stop whatever they were doing and freeze with their striped hats off at the sight of him and Gruppenführer, the Kommandant was proudly explaining how he was able to triple the production on both construction sites and gravel pits thanks to the growing population of the camp, which now consisted of more than ten thousand inmates compared to the seven hundred first brought to Auschwitz in June 1940. The problem was that the barracks became too overcrowded, and Himmler authorized the construction of Auschwitz II, which had already begun.

  “I instructed both the guards and Sonderkommandos to encourage the prisoners so the construction would be completed in record time.” The Kommandant grinned. “Would you like to know how?”

  “Surprise me.” Heydrich stopped for a moment and crossed his arms over his chest, smiling.

  “Right now over eight hundred inmates are sleeping in barracks that can only house five hundred and fifty. When you sleep with someone’s foot in your face, with ten more people next to you, you will be more than encouraged!”

  Höss and Heydrich, along with several other officers standing next to them, burst into laughter. I felt absolutely disgusted by both of them.

  “But I also work on resolving their little ‘housing problem’ by other means as well, according to your, Reichsmarschall Goering’s and Reichsführer Himmler’s directive. Shall we proceed to Block Eleven now?”

  “Absolutely. Reichsführer is very anxious to get my report on Monday. Make sure it will be good.”

  “Oh, I can guarantee you that, Herr Gruppenführer! This way, please.”

  As we walked along the barracks, warehouses and administrative buildings, I couldn’t help but look around. The inmates looked like shadows, cheekbones protruding under their sad eyes, which looked too big on their bony faces. Some of them had visible signs of the brutal treatment I’ve heard so much from Norbert about, split lips and broken noses adding more horror to the picture. Women didn’t look any better than men. Only as we passed their barracks, I noticed that they weren’t wearing regular shoes, but some kind of wooden ones, ill fitted and obviously uncomfortable, without even any socks preventing them from hurting their feet. How could they possibly work in those for more than twelve hours? And I always thought that my pointe shoes were a torture. I put my head down and decided to look under my feet, just under my feet and nowhere else.

  “You might want to put it down, both of you,” Gruppenführer Heydrich addressed me and his adjutant. Deep in my thoughts, I didn’t notice how we stopped by some kind of a brick bunker, standing in isolation from the rest of the camp. “I need the exact numbers for my report.”

  I froze with my pencil on top of my notepad, waiting for him to speak. The Kommandant spoke first, “Well, first of all we’re still experimenting, but within only several months we’ve moved very much forward with executing the Final Solution directive.”

  Final Solution? What the hell is that? Whatever it was, it wasn’t an official directive,
since I’d never heard anything about it on the radio, neither had I seen anything like that in papers.

  “And?”

  “And… the good news is that during the last experiment we were able to kill as many as nine hundred people at once.”

  “Nine hundred? How did you do that? Definitely not by the van method.”

  “No, Reichsführer was clear on that matter, if we want to exterminate all the Jewish population of Europe within the next several years, the vans are just not big enough. How many people can you gas in a van? Maximum forty-fifty. Using my newly researched method, we’ll be able to gas as many as a thousand, maybe two thousand people at once, within a matter of… probably half an hour. Please, follow me.”

  An SS guard opened the door leading to the bunker, and we all came down into a damp basement with a faint smell of some kind of a chemical in the air. I looked around and felt shivers down my spine. Heinrich was right. I shouldn’t have come here at all. I really wanted to go home and not listen to what the Kommandant and Heydrich were talking about.

  “What’s that smell?” Heydrich inquired, scrunching his nose.

  “And this is my pride and joy, Herr Gruppenführer. It’s the gas that we used during the experiment, which has proven itself much more effective than the exhaust pipe, previously used with the van method. My deputy first tested it on the Soviet prisoners of war, and it worked like magic.”

  “It’s not dangerous for us to inhale it now, is it?” Heydrich frowned at the Kommandant.

  “Absolutely not, Herr Gruppenführer. It’s just a residue. The block has been ventilated for several days already and is absolutely safe.”

  “What kind of a gas is it?”

  “You’ve probably heard of it. Zyklon B, a cyanide-containing pesticide. It’s an improved version of the other Zyklon, first used during the Great War.”

  “Oh yes, I have heard of it. We tried it first during the euthanasia program. And how exactly does it work?”