You Are My Sunshine: A Novel Of The Holocaust (All My Love Detrick Book 2)

by Roberta Kagan

  “Do you have problems with infertility in your family history, Dr. Henkener?”

  “No, Manfred, we don’t. But it may not be a problem at all. You both might just be trying too hard. Sometimes that can be a sort of a block for conception.”

  “That’s absurd. It must be Christa.”

  Christa’s head snapped as she turned her head to gaze at him. Never had he said anything like this before. Her lips parted and she almost said something, but then she closed them again.

  “Manfred,” Dr Henkener locked his eyes on Manfred’s, “It may be nothing at all, and then again, It may just be you.”

  Manfred’s face turned the color of fresh blood. He clenched and unclenched his fist. Dr. Henkener had touched a nerve. Christa got up to walk towards Manfred. He glared at her and she did not move.

  “Let’s go now,” Manfred said to Christa. “That is all you have to tell us, is that right?”

  “I am afraid so. I’m sorry Manfred. I think you might just be under a great deal of pressure from your work. But then again…who knows?” Dr. Henkener said.

  “No need to be sorry. The tests are wrong. I am not an emotional weakling who can’t work and produce a child at the same time. For God’s sake, men do it all the time. I am afraid, Dr. Henkener that you just don’t want to admit that the problem might be your daughter. Because I can assure you that, it is not me. Are you coming Christa?” He opened the door and stood waiting. “Well, are you coming?”

  Christa looked from Manfred to her father. Hurt and unspoken apologies were all over her face. Her hands trembled as she gripped her handbag in front of her.

  “Goodbye, Father,” she said, her voice trembling, tears welling up in her eyes.

  Dr Henkener watched Christa with sympathy.

  Before Christa had a chance to kiss her father’s cheek, Manfred was outside the door. He let it slam behind him.

  Christa followed Manfred out into the street. He was well down the block so she had to run to catch up with him.

  Manfred walked so fast that Christa had to jog to keep up. The sound of his boot heels clicked on the pavement.

  “Manfred, slow down. I can’t keep up with you.”

  “I’m in a hurry. I have to get back to the office.”

  “But we were going to have lunch.”

  “I realized that I don’t have time today.”

  “Manfred, please don’t be this way. We love each other. It will be all right.”

  “I’ll see you tonight,” he said, and walked away so fast that he left Christa behind. She stopped trying to keep pace with him. Instead, she stood still, just watching the man she loved race away from her. Only once did he turn back to see her standing alone on the side of the street, watching him. He was far away, too far to see it, but he knew she was crying. Still, even though he wanted to, he could not go back and take her in his arms. Something inside of him - the need to be strong, to be powerful, and to be respected - stopped him.

  When Manfred returned to the office, he went to his desk without saying a word to anyone. Dr. Goebbels saw him and walked over.

  “Everything all right? You went to the doctor, yes? You look upset.”

  “Yes, it’s fine. We just need to try harder.”

  “Nothing wrong with that…right?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Ach, don’t feel bad. Before you know it, she’ll be pregnant and you’ll have a beautiful child.”

  “Yes, that will be very nice.”

  Joseph Goebbels patted Manfred’s back.

  “Have you had lunch?” Goebbels asked. He put down the latest copy of Der Stumer, the newspaper which he had been leafing through when Manfred arrived. He was proud of the propaganda paper his office produced. It had proved helpful in swaying the hearts and minds of the German people against the subhumans, and rallying them behind Hitler and his noble cause.

  “No.”

  “I thought you might stop with the wife and grab something.”

  “She had to get home. Her lady friend was stopping by to drop off her child. Christa promised to watch her baby,” Manfred lied.

  “Well, then it’s you and me. Why don’t we take a walk down to the corner pub? We can have a couple of beers a few brats and an hour or two away from work?”

  “Sounds good, sir.”

  When they got to the pub, there was a line of people waiting for a table. The proprietor, a rotund little red-faced man with a white apron and red-blond hair that was so thin his scalp shined through, walked over to them.

  “Heil Hitler,” the restaurateur said.

  “Heil Hitler. Table for two,” Goebbels answered.

  Although they were the last to arrive, he seated them first. Once again, the black SS uniform had worked its magic.

  They sat at a table in the corner by the window. The table was covered with a red and white checkered tablecloth.

  “Bring us two beers,” Joseph Goebbels told the young waiter. “And a plate of brats and some sauerkraut. Also, some fried potatoes and a green salad. Do you want anything else, Manfred?”

  “No, sounds perfect, sir.”

  “Very well, then,” turning back to the waiter, “keep the beers coming.”

  After the waiter left, Goebbels carefully placed his napkin on his lap.”

  “So, the invasion of Poland was a landslide success.”

  “I know, sir. It surely was.”

  “Our Führer is a genius. He told them not to form an army, that we would protect them, and would you believe they listened? Not very smart I’d say. Well, it’s no wonder they are not the superior race. But at least the Poles aren’t Jews or Gypsies. We can find a place for them as our worker slaves in the New World Order. You know, some of their children are beautiful; they look German: blond, blue-eyed, beautiful. Aryan looking... Actually the last time I saw Heinrich, he thought that perhaps we should take a few and send them off to be retrained as Germans. It’s an idea, anyway. At least we could consider taking some of the pretty ones.”

  “You mean the Reichsführer, sir?” Manfred looked at Goebbels and thought about Hitler and Himmler, whom he had met. None of them looked like the Aryans they professed to be. Here they proclaimed the German man to be tall, and athletic, blond, with blue eyes. Yet, Hitler himself had all the physical qualities of the Jews he hated. He had dark hair, was small in stature, and did not appear at all athletic. Furthermore, the large nose he used as a symbol of the ugliness of Jewry sat right in the middle of his own face. These are treasonous thoughts I am having. These thoughts must be kept under wraps at all costs.

  “Yes, of course I mean Reichsführer Himmler. He has been setting up homes for the Lebensborn. It is an exciting idea. These are wonderful institutions to help increase the Aryan population through a mating process. He also thought that we might take a few of the Polish children and put them in there as well. They are children, they are young, are quick to forget. If they are away from their parents, they will forget their parents, and we could turn them into Aryans. Of course we’d set up schools for retraining.”

  “It’s a good idea,” Manfred said, nodding and taking a swig of his dark German beer.

  “You and your missus will have beautiful children.”

  “Yes, she is lovely, my wife.”

  “You are both blond. That should give you bright Aryan babies. By the way, have you ever seen photographs of my wife and children?” Goebbels asked.

  “Only the one on your desk, sir.”

  “Oh, let me show you. You already know my beautiful wife. There she is, my Magda.” He showed Manfred a picture of slender woman with wavy hair, smiling at the camera, surrounded by a brood of light-haired, laughing children. “I don’t think you’ve ever seen my five beautiful children. I will tell you a secret… We haven’t told anyone else yet, but we have another on the way.”

  “Congratulations,” Manfred said, trying to sound sincere and hide the jealousy. Goebbels had five, soon to be six. Manfred and Christa could not eve
n produce one. Why?

  “Yes, we are quite excited. The more Aryan babies we can bring into the world, the better things will be for the New Order of Germany. Our leader is doing a wonderful job of restricting Germany. Soon we will be the world leaders as it was always meant to be. We will leave this world to our children. A world free of undesirable elements, and filled with the beauty, grace, and charm of the Aryan race.”

  The food arrived. Manfred was relieved not to have to discuss having children anymore, at least for today. They ate and discussed food and beer. By the end of the meal, both men were full and tired. As they walked back to the office, Goebbels smiled at Manfred.

  “I meant to tell you…some good news…I am promoting you to Rottenführer.”

  “Sir!” Manfred beamed. “Thank you.”

  “You deserve it, my boy. You are a wonderful employee and an excellent friend and confidant. Yes, Manfred, I chose you well. You are a true asset to the Party.”

  “Thank you. Thank you, sir.”

  Chapter 24

  1940

  The Germans established ghettos in Poland. Even before the Nazis had a chance to build fences around them, the arrests began. At first, it was a small number of Jews, and so their neighbors, other Jews, were able to overlook what was taking place. People were able to deceive themselves by rationalizing that those who were arrested were criminals of some sort.

  But no Jew was safe. The Nazis meant to kill them all: men, woman, children, infants...

  And then one day, without warning, those Jews who had carefully looked the other way in hopes that it would all disappear were seized at gunpoint from their homes, or the streets, or their jobs, torn from their lives, and all of their possessions confiscated. Just ordinary people, guilty of no crime, and yet, often beaten or shot if they resisted. They were taken to a small area set off from the rest of the population, the ghettos, where they again chose to deceive themselves, that they would live and work until the war was over. But, unbeknownst to them, they were only in line for an even more sinister fate. The ghettos, rotting with disease, plagued by starvation, dirt, and overpopulation, were merely a stop-gap. Next, they would face the answer to the race contamination that the Third Reich had put into effect and named the Final Solution. Hitler planned to begin the annihilation of millions. It was not just the Jews. Oh no, the Nazis wanted to erase the Gypsies, the homosexuals, the Jehovah’s Witnesses, and so many others from the face of the earth. At first large groups of people were shot and thrown into ravines, but this method was far too slow. Europe was filled with undesirables, and the Nazis decided that they all must be eradicated. And so, next came…the trains. The trains to the camps, filled with people loaded like cattle, on their way to places where Nazi scientists had worked painstakingly to create the most efficient death machines ever known to man. The gas chambers, Zyklon B. These houses of death were accompanied by the ever-operating crematoriums, which could never work fast enough in the effort to dispose of the dead bodies. The surrounding cities were subjected to constant rain that poured from the ovens, made from the ashes of the dead.

  Chapter 25

  The sewing machines buzzed. Fruma and Zofia had a wedding gown to make for the Eisenstat’s youngest daughter, Sora. It had to be finished by the week’s end. There were pearls to hand sew and hems to be finished. The women worked quickly their skilled fingers flying across the fabric like tiny birds.

  “Can you believe it? Next week is Eidel’s first birthday already. How the time flies,” Fruma said, shaking her head and smiling.

  “I know. My figure tells me every day. I can’t seem to get my old shape back,” Zofia said.

  “You look lovely. You’re just not a girl anymore. You’re a mother, a woman.”

  “Old and flabby, in other words.”

  “If you’re old, then Gitel and I are ancient.”

  Zofia laughed and shook her head. “I want to make Eidel a new dress for her birthday party.”

  “I think that’s a wonderful idea. How many children are coming?”

  “Just Helen, the baby, and Esther from next door and her son.”

  “Oy, he is a wild little boy. I hope he doesn’t tear up the apartment.”

  “Yes, I know he is out of control, but he’s just a normal three year old.”

  “Not refined like our Eidel. Eidel is special.”

  “Of course not,” Zofia laughed. “Nobody is as good as our Eidel.”

  The floor was littered with strings, dust, and small bits of fabric. Eidel slept quietly, lying on her stomach in her playpen with a pink knitted blanket over her.

  “She looks like an angel.”

  “Doesn’t she? You know, as much as I regret what I did with her father, I mean, having relations with a man who was so much older and all of that, I can’t be completely sorry because I was blessed to have her.”

  “I know. You know what my grandmother used to say?”

  “What?” Zofia asked, both women staring at the sleeping child.

  “She said every blessing is a curse and every curse is a blessing. Yes, her father was a curse, but Eidel is such a blessing to all of us.”

  “That she is…” Zofia said.

  Chapter 26

  The small apartment that Zofia shared with Fruma and Gitel was decorated with balloons and streamers. Gitel dragged herself out of bed that morning and went to the bakery nice and early. There she bought a small birthday cake. Fruma and Zofia had both made dolls out of fabric and stuffed them. They’d sewed on buttons for the eyes, nose and mouth. Then Fruma made a few dresses that would fit the dolls, giving them a wardrobe. Zofia laughed. She knew it would be several years before Eidel would change the clothes, but the effort that Fruma and Gitel made to make things beautiful always touched her heart. She knew how fortunate she was. And regardless of what people said about them, her friends were the kindest women she had ever known.

  A pot of thick, strong coffee was brewing on the stove. The fragrance filled the rooms. Soon the guests would arrive. It was Eidel’s first birthday. She wore a dress that was the color of the deep pink of a summer sunset. Her dark blonde hair was caught up on top of her head in a bow to match the lacy ruffles on her dress. Zofia watched Eidel playing, and her heart swelled with joy, pride and every other emotion any mother has ever felt.

  Helen knocked at the door. In her arms, she carried her son, Lars and a gaily-wrapped gift for Eidel. The babies were born a few months apart, and the mothers hoped their children would grow up to be friends.

  “Come in, will you have some coffee or tea?” Fruma asked.

  “Thank you, Fruma. I would love some tea. Hello Zofia, Gitel.” Helen smiled, and Zofia realized again how beautiful Helen was. She was tall and blonde. The pregnancy had done nothing to her slender, girlish figure. But not only was she lovely, she was kind. “And who do we have here?” Helen asked as she bent to tickle Eidel’s cheek. “Why, it’s the birthday girl.” Eidel giggled.

  “Here let me take him for a minute so you can enjoy your tea.” Gitel said.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course. I have lots of experience from Eidel,” Gitel said, but as soon as she took Lars, he started crying.

  “Ech, he’s just used to his mother. I’m sorry Gitel,” Helen said, and Gitel handed the baby back to Helen.

  “You look wonderful Zofia, you’re glowing. Motherhood really agrees with you,” Helen said.

  “Oh, I wish that were true. I can’t seem to lose this baby weight.”

  “Well, you gained it in all the right places. You have a beautiful shape. I wish it had done the same for me.”

  “Oh Helen, you still look like a young girl. You will always be lovely.”

  Eidel must have seen Lars being held because she began fussing and reaching her arms towards Zofia to pick her up. Fruma saw Eidel reaching and lifted her. Then Gitel came and reached for the baby, lifting her high in the air. Eidel forgot what she was fussing about and giggled loudly.

  Esther,
the widow who lived next door, arrived with her four-year-old son, an active little boy with a mischievous smile. He immediately began grabbing Eidels toys. He picked up a fat baby doll and began racing around the room.

  “No, Manny, behave. We are not at home. This is Eidel’s party.” Esther pulled Manny by the arm and took the doll away. She held him close to her and he began to cry in frustration. “Please Manny, behave. We are going to have cake soon enough. You love cake. Now, if you don’t act properly I will not allow you to have a piece.”

  Fruma glanced at the boy and frowned. Little boys were such a pain in the neck. Best to get the cake out before the little monster got his destructive hands on something else.

  Fruma put the cake on the table with a single candle in the center.

  “Is everyone ready?” Fruma asked.

  Nods all around. Zofia picked Eidel up and held her so that she could see as Fruma lit the candle. Eidel began to giggle as everyone sang a happy birthday song.

  Zofia blew out the candle for Eidel, and she made a silent wish that her child would have a long and happy life. Everyone clapped, and Eidel tried to clap too.

  Fruma went into the kitchen to get a knife and the pile of plates she’d taken down for the cake.

  There was a knock at the door. Fruma put the plates down and opened it. The entire festive mood changed in a single moment as the room seemed dwarfed by the presence of three tall, menacing men wearing long black leather coats: the Gestapo.

  Fruma’s hands trembled, her face turned white. She could not speak or hear. All she heard were two words: “Arrested,” and “Jews.”

  “What’s going on here?” Helen asked. “Why are you arresting these women?”

  “It’s none of your business. You don’t look like a Jew. Why you are here?”

  “I am not a Jew. I am a Christian and my husband is a member of the Nazi Party. Now tell me, please, what is going on here?”