The Watcher (15 page)

“Ja,”
Rikka agreed smoothly. “Johanna must meet Reichsführer Himmler. He's sure to be interested in her progress.”

I knew immediately what Gertrude and Rikka had in mind. Johanna would be required to salute Reichsführer Himmler and say “Heil Hitler” when he entered. They would be delighted to see Johanna punished even more.

“Johanna is not here,” Frau Messner told them.

Rikka spoke up in a loud voice. She rattled off something in fast German, and I couldn't keep up with her. My knowledge of the language was limited, and Rikka knew that. She was deliberately keeping me out of the conversation. I turned and walked away. I wished I could warn Johanna that Gertrude and Rikka were setting a trap.

I spent the morning with the new babies. It was interesting and emotional to meet the young mothers—not much older than I—who had given birth to babies they might never know. One mother, Elise, was almost seventeen. Her blond hair spread out over the pillow and caught rays of the sun from the window. She seemed childlike and small herself as she lay there on the bed, asleep.

Elise had a baby boy, and my job was to talk to her and help her as she regained consciousness from the anesthesia she was given. “Elise,” I said softly. “You've had a baby boy, and you both have done very well.”

“Did you say I had a boy?” she asked sleepily.

“Yes. I peeked at him in the nursery. He is beautiful.”

“Is he blond?”

“Well, he's practically bald right now.” I laughed a little. “But believe me; he's very cute with a little turned-up nose.”

“He's healthy?”

“He's strong and healthy—with a very loud cry.”

Elise gave a little laugh. “Will I be able to keep him?”

“I'm not sure, Elise. He belongs to Germany now, doesn't he?”

Elise didn't answer. She closed her eyes, and I assumed she was asleep again, until I saw a tear slip down her cheek. Then she whispered, “Yes, he belongs to Germany.”

After lunch the staff was busy cleaning up crumbs from the table and sweeping the floor. I sat in a chair and blew up balloons until I was dizzy. Rikka and Gertrude tied my balloons to chairs around the table. One of the kitchen staff set a large cake, decorated with white frosting and pink and white flowers, in the center of the table. Someone else brought in a punch bowl filled with pink juice and scoops of vanilla ice cream.

The doorbell rang, and I looked up, expecting to see Herr Himmler stride into the room. Instead a familiar blond woman came in carrying a little boy. The child was dressed in a tiny German uniform complete with the shiny brass buttons, an officer's hat, and the swastika armband. As his mother set him down, he immediately extended his right arm in a salute. “Heil Hitler!”

Everyone in the room clapped, laughed, and answered, “Heil Hitler.” The boy looked around at his audience and
smiled proudly. Then he caught sight of me. “Wen-dee! Wen-dee!” he cried, running to me with his arms outstretched.

“Hunfrid!” I gathered him into my arms and kissed his little cheeks until his hat fell off.

“I . . . a big boy soldier, Wendy,” he said in German. “Why you crying?” He struggled out of my arms and once again saluted. “Heil Hitler!” He waited for me to respond, but I could not. I knew everyone was watching, but I still could not salute. This little Polish boy, whose mother was murdered, was now one of Hitler's children.

No one seemed to notice that I did not return the salute. Fortunately for me, Rikka and Gertrude were not in the room, for they surely would have made an issue out of it.

I soon found out that Gertrude and Rikka had gone to find Johanna and bring her to the party. They were now standing in the dining-room entrance. Johanna stood between them. She was dressed in a plain gray uniform and on her chest was a patch—a purple triangle, the symbol the Bible Students were required to wear.

Gertrude shoved Johanna into the room. “We thought Johanna would love to meet Reichsführer Himmler today.”

G
ertrude's shove was so strong, Johanna nearly fell as she lurched into the room.

Instinctively, I ran to help her, but Rikka pushed me aside.

Frau Messner shouted, “Gertrude and Rikka, who told you to bring Johanna here today?”

“We felt it was our duty, and I discussed it with my mother. She wondered how Johanna was doing, since she arranged for Johanna to work here. I have already explained to my mother that you have not been disciplining Johanna and you have made her more of a ‘trusted employee' than a prisoner. My mother gave me permission to come here and see just what is going on. After all, my mother . . .”

“I know very well the authority your mother has here—as a doctor,” Frau Messner said wearily, “but she
does not have authority over my treatment of Johanna.”

“You can tell her that when you see her,” Gertrude said haughtily, “which will be very soon. You can be sure of that.”

Ordinarily, I would not be able to understand all this in my limited German. However, in her anger and arrogance, instead of her usual rush of words, Gertrude spoke slowly, clearly, and brazenly.

“Johanna most certainly is treated as a prisoner,” Frau Messner stated. “She has no freedom outside of this facility. Because of the way you trapped her this week, she has had no food for several days and she has been cleaning toilets with her bare hands. Now you are planning to make more trouble for her—as well as for all of us. No one appointed you to be her judge or jailer.”

Before the discussion could go on further, the front door opened and two officers strode in. I recognized one of them immediately. He wore spectacles and had a haughty smile on his face—just as in the posters plastered all over Berlin and in the newspapers. It was Reichsführer Heinrich Himmler. I heard it whispered that he had also created the death camps.

“Heil Hitler,” he shouted, and his right hand swept out like the blade of a bayonet.

“Heil Hitler!” came replies from around the room.

Apparently, Herr Himmler did not notice the three girls on the other side of the room—including the one in the middle who did not salute.

Before someone could notice or mention Johanna's refusal to salute, Hunfrid diverted everyone's attention by
suddenly scampering into the center of the group. Standing straight, once again he shot his arm into a perfect salute. “Heil Hitler!” he shouted, grinning proudly.

His new parents did not lose much time, teaching him his patriotic duty to the Führer,
I thought.

Herr Himmler shook Hunfrid's little hand and spoke in rapid German. I prayed that Hunfrid's salute and uniform took attention away from Johanna.

Frau Messner motioned toward Elise, who was in a wheelchair, holding her baby. After introductions, Herr Himmler presented her with a package elegantly wrapped with a silver bow. Then, glancing around, as if to make sure everyone was watching, he gathered the baby into his arms and kissed him on the head. A newspaper photographer snapped pictures of the baby, who was now a godson to the Reichsführer.

Elise opened the package and held up the silver cup for all to see. After she spoke a few prepared words of gratitude, everyone applauded then sat down at the decorated table to enjoy cake and tea—everyone, that is, except Johanna.

The Reichsführer stood up and, noticing Johanna, who stood silently and awkwardly nearby, motioned to her with his hand. She walked to his side and curtsied.
“Guten Morgen,
Herr Reichsführer.
”

“Who are you and why are you not joining us?” he asked. Then, noticing the purple triangle patch on her uniform, he said, “Oh, I see. You are a stubborn
Bibelforscher
—one of those who defy our Führer and the
laws of the Third Reich. What is your name?”

“My name is Johanna Thalberg, sir,” she answered.

“And what are you doing here? “

“I have been assigned to help Frau Messner with the children.”

Frau Messner explained. “Lebensborn is considered her reeducation facility, Herr Reichsführer. She has been a valuable asset here. She speaks several languages—she's very bright and—”

“Never mind how brilliant she is,” Himmler interrupted with a frown. “Has she been reeducated? Has she signed a renouncement of her religion?”

I saw Rikka nudge Gertrude, who smiled and nodded, and a rush of anger flashed over me. Those two cold-blooded witches were actually having fun, eager to see what kind of cruelty Johanna would suffer now.

Frau Messner clasped her hands. “I'm sorry to say she has not signed her document of renouncement.”

“How is she being punished?”

“For the past two days she has been without food and assigned to bathroom duty.”

“And did she yield today?”

Frau Messner was flustered and embarrassed. “I have not had time to speak with her today. And those girls brought her up here just now . . . without my consent.” She gave Rikka and Gertrude a withering look.

Herr Himmler turned to Johanna and leaned toward her threateningly. “Have you thought about your duties and loyalty to our Fatherland?”

Johanna nodded. “Yes, sir, and I have always attended to my duties to my Fatherland. However, I have a stronger loyalty to my God and his Kingdom. I cannot sign that document.” She closed her eyes for a moment, and I wondered if she were praying. “I cannot Heil Hitler, and I will not renounce my heavenly father.”

The Reichsführer's face reddened. “We have been patient with you long enough,
Fräulein
. I will see to it that you are removed from this facility and sent to a place where you will get the discipline you need.” Then he paused, as if trying to remember something. “What did you say your name is?”

“Johanna Thalberg.”

Herr Himmler waited for a moment. Then he said, “Thalberg. A good German name, and you and your family have corrupted it.” He stroked his nose. “Do you have a brother, Eric?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, he would not capitulate, either. And he paid the price this week.” Herr Himmler had a slight smile on his face. “He was executed yesterday.”

I held both my hands over my mouth to keep myself from crying out.

Johanna's face paled, and she staggered as if about to faint, but she was able to grab ahold of the table. After a moment she was able to speak. “I am proud of Eric. He was able to stand loyal to God. He will be rewarded with life again.”

“You . . . dumm . . . ,” The Reichsmarschall sputtered, at
a loss for words. “Your foolish brother was a traitor to our Führer . . . and to the Fatherland. He would not become a soldier; he would not salute; he would not join the youth group—he was given enough time.”

Johanna spoke up. “With all due respect, sir, neither my brother nor I are traitors. We are good citizens and always uphold the laws of the land that are in accord with God's laws, which tell us to love our enemies. My brother would not kill anyone.”

Once again Herr Himmler wiped his nose with his finger. “He was German! He could have lived if he had signed a simple document and gone off to war with other young men!”

I wanted to scream out,
Oh, Johanna, just sign the document! Do anything. Lie. Do not argue with this man. He'll certainly kill you, too.

The Reichsmarschall was angry to the point of trembling. He put out his hand and, with his finger, he made a slash across Johanna's throat. “You will lose your head—just like your brother did.”

I could feel nausea coming up into my mouth, and I began to feel wobbly. I was more horrified and frightened than I had been on the U-boat with bombs exploding around us.

Johanna stood firm and yet was respectful. “I hope that I will be as faithful as Eric. You see, sir, I know that should we die, God has the power to remember us and give us life again in his Kingdom.”

Reichsführer Himmler wiped his nose with his
finger—again. He then turned to those in the room who watched in silence. “I have heard all this before. Our Führer says this brood of
Bibelforscher
will be destroyed—like bugs.” He flicked his hand as if swatting a fly. Then he swung around to Johanna. “See how you spoiled what was to be a lovely celebration?” He called to the other officer who stood by the window. “Get her out of here. I'll deal with her later.”

The officer grabbed Johanna by the arm and propelled her across the room. At that moment little Hunfrid, in his soldier's uniform, scurried after them.
“Nein! Nein!”
He banged his tiny fists on the soldier's legs. “Halt!”

The soldier reached down and angrily pushed Hunfrid aside.

My favorite little boy sat on the floor and sobbed. “Yo-Yo.” His name for Johanna. The soldier took Johanna out of the room to . . . where? A death camp?
Would I ever see her again?
I wondered as the door closed behind them.