I understand this is treasonous talk and should this letter fall into the hands of the authorities, they will send me to the camps with the other enemies of the Reich or shoot me on the spot. But I cannot keep silent. The weight of this sadness is too great. I can only write my true feelings to you, Elsie. I know you will not betray me.
Since my roommates watch my every turn, I’m giving this letter to Ovidia. Hopefully it will reach you. After you’ve read it, please, tear it up and burn it in Papa’s oven. Not for my sake, but for your own and the safety of our family.
Love,
Hazel
LEBENSBORN PROGRAM
STEINHÖRING, GERMANY
JANUARY 8, 1945
Elsie, today I write to you with a spirit burdened by anger and despair beyond all hope of redemption. I’m living with demons so I must already be in hell. My roommate Cata, having recently borne a healthy son to the Program, was permitted into the newborn nursery to wean. There, she saw my daughter, round and blond as an angel, but she overheard the nurses discussing Friedhelm. One of the nurses said that Doktor Ebner was disappointed to learn of the twin Friedhelm’s failure given the Program’s fertility drugs and proscribed prenatal vitamin regimen. To that, one of the nurses claimed that if the mother had a hidden deficiency, then it would surely be passed on to one, if not all, of her offspring. Therefore, Cata said, they have begun testing my daughter to ensure she does not carry some mutation or derivation of our Aryan race. Unthinkable! As to my son, Brigette claims that after too much wine, a Gruppenführer confided to her in bed that they poisoned the Program’s unwanted newborns and threw them in the fire, burying their bones alongside the exterminated Jews in the camps! Oh, Elsie! If the stories are true, then they are damned to hell and I along with them. I pray for the Americans and Russians to come. I welcome them and hope we all are burned to ash for the sins committed here. I do not think I will ever find rest again. It is near dawn now and I must get this letter to Ovidia before the Monday market opens. I love you most dearly, Elsie. Please know that—whatever comes.
Hazel
SCHMIDT BÄCKEREI
56 LUDWIGSTRASSE
GARMISCH, GERMANY
JANUARY 12, 1945
Dear Hazel,
The last letter I received from you was postmarked the 27th of December. I asked Postmaster Hoflehner if the mail had stopped due to the fighting in the north. He assured me that it had not and that Reich Postal Ministry is working at the highest standards of German efficiency, albeit at a slightly protracted punctuality. Then he handed me a letter from Herr Meyer to Papa as evidence. I told him one swallow does not make a spring. Herr Meyer lives in Partenkirchen. I could ride my bicycle there and back faster than it took this letter to arrive at the Garmisch Post Office.
I cannot help worrying. I’ve awoken many nights with you in my dreams. A notion that refuses to leave the mind is a sign, so Mutti has said. A sign of what, she’s never articulated. I try not to tell her anything that will cause her concern. She’s so easily troubled and doesn’t understand our times. The world is not as it was when she was our age. So I keep my nightmares and thoughts to myself. You were the only one I could talk to, Hazel. I understand now that we must be prudent in every written word. Perhaps in my earlier letters, I made the mistake of impertinence. I pray they did not fall into the wrong hands and that is the reason for your silence! I was not thinking of the danger to you—only of myself and my longing to tell you so much. Please, forgive me and consider it the frivolous scribbling of a silly girl. Is it possible to be nearly seventeen yet feel one hundred years old?
Remember the story Mutti told us of Frau Grunwald whose hair went from red as summer strawberries to winter white after finding her three sons hung in the stables by the French at the end of the first war? To this day, Herr Grunwald’s ancient mother appears younger than his wife. I thought nothing could be as tragic as that. But now I believe I understand. I feel the weight of this war pressing down on me. I see it in Mutti’s and Papa’s faces. We are all growing older too quickly. I barely recognize any of us. Sometimes I forget your face and it frightens me so that I take your photograph and stare hard until I’m sure it’s burned into my mind’s eye.
I wish you were home, Hazel. I miss my sister. If only you were here. If only, if only, if only. I pray for your safety and health, and the same for all your children.
Heil Hitler.
Your loving sister,
Elsie
LEBENSBORN PROGRAM
STEINHÖRING, GERMANY
JANUARY 13, 1945
Elsie, promise me you’ll take care of Julius. He is all that is left of the happy life I dreamed for Knowing what I do now, I cannot bear another day here. Elsie, I hope you can understand why I did what I felt I must. I love my children—all of them. But I am not the mother they deserve—flawed in my love for them. I pray there is truly a God and he is forgiving. Try to make Mutti and Papa see. I love you all and will miss you, my dear sister, most.
Yours eternally,
Hazel
Chapter Eighteen
SCHMIDT BÄCKEREI
56 LUDWIGSTRASSE
GARMISCH, GERMANY
JANUARY 19, 1945
Elsie nearly dropped her tray of sweet honigkuchen squares when Josef came through the bäckerei doors midmorning. He’d been called away from Garmisch on business for three weeks. This was the first she’d seen him since Christmas Eve. It was one thing to use her affianced status to save her family from the Gestapo, but quite another to take on the responsibility of being the wife to a man she didn’t love. She wore the ring, though each glimpse of it shamed her. The truth must be made known, or she risked living the lie forever. But keeping Josef close was her only guarantee that she and her family were protected. With Tobias hidden upstairs, she couldn’t jeopardize them now by revealing her true feelings.
“You’re back!” she welcomed.
“Just yesterevening.” He nodded and kissed her hand.
“Papa, Josef is here,” Elsie called over her shoulder. She pulled the handkerchief off her head and smoothed her hair. “It is very good to see you, Josef, but what brings you to us at this hour?” He had never come in before noon before.