We were all very excited about what the coming days would bring.
Because I grew up so near the Austrian border, I spoke fluent German and knew about German food and customs. Mother Superior asked me to oversee the preparations for the conference, and I eagerly agreed. I was informed that the men would share a meal, then would adjourn to discuss the business at hand. In my opinion, our dining room was far too plain for such an occasion, so I decided that the meal and the conference should take place in our common room. It was a lovely room, with a large stone fireplace and beautiful views of the lake and the Dolomites--a truly inspirational setting. Mother Superior agreed, and she permitted me to rearrange the furniture in the room as I saw fit. Dinner would be served at a large circular table next to one of the windows. For the meeting, a long rectangular table with a dark finish was set in front of the fireplace. I wanted everything to be perfect, and when I was finished, the room looked quite beautiful indeed. I was thrilled by the prospect that my work might have some role in bringing about an end to all the death and destruction the war had wrought.
The day before the meeting, a large shipment of food arrived: hams and sausages, breads and pastas, tins of caviar, bottles of fine wine and champagne--things most of us had rarely seen in our lifetimes, and certainly not since the war had begun. The next day, with the help of two other sisters, I prepared a meal that I believed would suit the palates of the men from Rome and the visitors from Berlin.
The delegates were scheduled to arrive at six in the evening, but it snowed heavily that day, and everyone was delayed. The men from the Vatican arrived first, at eight-thirty. There were three in alclass="underline" Bishop Sebastiano Lorenzi of the Vatican Secretariat of State, and his two young assistants, Father Felici and Father Manzini. Bishop Lorenzi inspected the room where the meeting was to take place, then he led us to the chapel to celebrate Mass. Before leaving the chapel, he repeated Mother Superior's instruction that we never speak of the evening's events at the convent. He went on to say that anyone who violated his order would do so under the pain of excommunication. It seemed a rather needless warning to me, for none of us would ever disobey a direct request from a senior Vatican official, but I knew that the men of the Roman Curia took their obedience to the rules of secrecy very seriously.
The delegation from Germany did not arrive until nearly ten o'clock. They too were three: a driver who did not take part in the conference, an aide called Herr Beckmann, and the leader of the delegation, a man from the German Foreign Office named State Secretary Martin Luther. I would never forget that name. Imagine, a man called Martin Luther, visiting the Roman Catholic Convent of the Sacred Heart in Brenzone! At the time, it was quite a shock-So was the state secretary's appearance. He was a small, sickly looking man with thick spectacles that distorted the shape of his eyes. He seemed to be suffering from a terrible cold, because he kept rubbing his nose with a white handkerchief
They immediately sat down to dinner. Herr Luther and Herr Beckmann commented on the beauty of the room, and I felt very proud of my accomplishment. I served the food and opened the first bottles of wine. It was a pleasant meal, and there was a good deal of laughter and camaraderie among the five men seated at the table. I had the impression that Herr Luther and Bishop
Lorenzi were well acquainted. Apparently, Mother Superior had neglected to tell them that I was from Brunico in the far north, because they spoke freely in German whenever I was in the room, surely out of the mistaken impression that I did not understand the language. I heard much interesting gossip about the affairs in Berlin.
The conference began at midnight. In Italian, Bishop Lorenzi said to me, "We have much work to do, Sister. Please keep the coffee coming. If you sec an empty cup, fill it." By now, all the other sisters had gone to bed. I sat outside the common room, in the antechamber. After a few moments, our young kitchhen boy appeared, dressed in pajamas. He was an orphan who lived in the convent. The sisters nicknamed him Ciciotto, little chubby one. The child had been awakened by nightmares. I invited him to sit with me. To help calm him, we recited the rosary.
The first time I entered the room, it became clear to me that the men were not discussing a negotiated settlement to the war. State Secretary Luther was in the process of handing round a memorandum to the other four men. As I poured coffee, I was able to see it quite well. It had two columns, and the columns were divided by a vertical line. On the left were the names of countries and territories, on the right were figures. At the bottom of the page was a tally.
Herr Luther was saying, "The program to bring about the final solution to the Jewish question in Europe is well under way. The document you have before you was presented to me at a conference in Berlin in January. As you can see, by our careful estimate, there are eleven million Jews in Europe at the moment. That estimate includes territory controlled by the Reich and its allies and in countries that remain neutral or allied with the enemy."
Herr Luther paused and looked at Bishop Lorenzi. "Does the girl speak German?"
"No, no, Herr Luther. She is a poor girl from the Garda region. Her only language is Italian, and even that she speaks like a peasant. You may speak freely in front of her."
I turned and left the room, pretending not to have heard the terribly insulting things the prelate had just said about me to the German. My face must have shown my embarrassment, because when I entered the antechamber, Ciciotto said, "Is something wrong, Sister Regina?"
"No, no, I'm fine. Just a little tired."
"Shall we continue to say the rosary, Sister?"
"You say it, my child. But softly, please."
The boy resumed the rosary, but after a few moments he fell asleep with his head resting on my lap. I cracked the door a few inches so I could hear what was being said inside the common room. Herr Luther was still speaking. This is what I heard that night, recorded to the best of my recollection and ability.
"Despite our best efforts to keep the evacuations secret, word unfortunately is beginning to trickle out. It is my understanding from our own ambassador to the Vatican that some of these reports are beginning to reach the ears of the Holy Father."
Bishop Lorenzi replied, "That is indeed the case, State Secretary Luther. I'm afraid news of the evacuations has indeed reached the Vatican. The British and Americans are putting enormous pressure on the Holy Father to speak out-"
"May I speak bluntly, Bishop Lorenzi?
"That was the point of this gathering, was it not?"
"This program to settle the Jewish question once and for all is under way. The machinery is in place, and there is nothing His
Holiness can do to stop it. The only thing he can do is make matters worse for the Jews, and I know that is the last thing the Holy Father wishes to do."
"That is correct, Herr Luther. But how would a protest make
matters worse for the Jews?"
"It is imperative that the roundups and deportations go smoothly and with a minimum of struggle and histrionics. The element of surprise is a critical factor. If the Holy Father issues a protest, accompanied by an explicit warning about what deportation to the east truly means for the Jews, then it will make the roundups messy and difficult affairs. It will also mean that many Jews will go into hiding and escape our forces."