The OSS agent must have felt it, for he softened his tone at once, smiling conciliatorily, as he went on to explain his point: “Gerlinde, you lived in a very closed-off world. You never saw how it was for the regular citizens. You don’t know what they had to go through.”
“I saw a lot at the hospital,” she argued, out of some childish spite.
“Yes, you did.”
“All those brave soldiers, all torn to shreds by the allied bombs and shrapnel.”
“Those soldiers were sent to the war by your Führer. The war that was completely unnecessary.”
“It was necessary.”
“Why? The Lebensraum?”
She pinched her lips, growing silent once again.
“Why did you volunteer for the Red Cross, Gerlinde?”
For some time, she sat silent, as though ashamed of the answer. “I couldn’t sit helplessly anymore like my mother and do nothing. Götz and Georg were fighting at the front and I… I had to do something. I had to help.”
“It must have been terrible there and particularly closer to the end.”
Such genuine empathy was the last thing Gerlinde had expected. For some time, she looked hard at Morris as if expecting some more arguments to follow about how they, the Germans, had brought it all on themselves but he appeared to be simply waiting for her to proceed with her story, with the same mild smile playing over his lips.
“It was,” she confirmed at last, with visible effort. It was still difficult to talk about it and not only due to the war. There were also personal reasons but of those, Morris oughtn’t to worry. That was her trouble and hers alone. “I wasn’t afraid of blood or shredded limbs or burnt flesh. Herr Doktor soon allowed me to assist him, even with such little formal training. Vati signed the authorization for me to work there… Without his signature, they wouldn’t have allowed it. I was much too young. Mother was against it something horrible but he understood everything.” Suddenly, she looked up at Morris. “Will it be possible for me to become a doctor? An actual surgeon? A professor of medicine later, perhaps?”
Morris smiled slowly, carefully concealing the hope which had ignited in his heart. She’d began thinking of the future. The iron grip of the past began to loosen.
“I don’t see why not.” He shifted carefully in his seat. “Is that what you want to be? A surgeon?”
“I don’t know yet. I think so. I was just asking.”
She didn’t tell him that she wanted to be a famous photographer and a filmmaker when she was younger, like Margot von Steinhoff or Leni Riefenstahl – now, it didn’t matter. Even the idea of studying to become a surgeon was absolutely spontaneous. She had never seriously considered anything of this sort. All she wanted now was to hear that she could be all of these things if she wanted to. But now that Morris had confirmed it, she suddenly felt utterly exhausted as though after hours of interrogation. The burden of having all this freedom of choice to herself was all of a sudden too much to bear.
“I feel tired, Agent Morris. May I be excused, please?”
“Of course, Miss Neumann.” They were back to formal terms but the warmth was still there, slowly uncurling itself on Gerlinde’s chest like a cat. “Feel free to come down and fetch me anytime. I will always listen to you.”
6
“So which camp were you incarcerated in?”
Gerlinde’s question came out of nowhere, as they jogged around the Neumann’s vast estate. Tadek stumbled and barely regained his footing, getting much too close to sprawling on the ground. Hardly Fräulein Neumann would stop to pick him up.
“Auschwitz,” he answered somewhat stiffly.
“So, you were a free man since when? January?”
“Yes. I joined the Red Army right after the liberation.”
Without pausing, Gerlinde gave him an evaluating once over. “You must have been in fine shape for them to take you into the army. Why do they tell us that you were all nearly starved to death there? Clearly, you had enough food. Why don’t you tell them to stop spreading such lies?”
Tadek stopped abruptly. He had expected Gerlinde to continue her jog but, strangely enough, she stopped also and regarded him quizzically. “What?”
For some time, he studied her face. It appeared she was patiently waiting for an explanation of some sort. Tadek passed his hand over his forehead, collecting the beads of sweat that had broken out there. He wasn’t too sure how to proceed.
Carefully, he probed the waters. “I’m Jewish.”
Gerlinde nodded, unimpressed. “I know.”
“Morris told you?”
“No. I gathered as much myself.”
He pondered something. “Do you hate me then?”
She snorted with good-natured disdain. “I hardly know you. Why would I hate you? I’m annoyed that the Amis brought you into the house but it doesn’t give me enough reason to hate you.”
Tadek blinked, once again thrown off track. Was she pulling his leg? Whatever was the case, he decided to tread carefully. “Why do you think they put us in those camps?”
Another dismissive shrug. “Protective custody orders. It was a wartime measure only. As soon as the war was over, you all would have been resettled, to the East, to farmlands. You would be like hired workers on the farm. Or factories. You would be employed according to your qualifications. But while the war was in progress, you all had to be taken into protective custody so that Eastern Judeo-Bolsheviks wouldn’t recruit you into their army. It appears such fears were justified; they did recruit you as soon as the opportunity presented itself. You said so yourself.”
She recited it like a lesson, sure of her knowledge and without displaying a single shadow of doubt. A sad smile slowly passed over Tadek’s features without reaching his eyes. “My God…” he whispered to himself, regarding her, almost with sorrow, this time.
Gerlinde scowled. “What?”
It was a familiar, German ‘what,’ an angry half-a-shout. She was on guard once again.
Tadek just shook his
