Please, Kurt, forgive the tone of yesterday’s letter. I have earnestly resolved, and hope to stick to it, not to write about fear and loneliness and such emotions. My moods will darken your day when my letters reach you, weeks later, while I will have coped with it and the pain will have passed. But you see, when loneliness and longing for you overwhelm me, it’s hard not to share it with you. Since my thoughts are always with and about you. I can’t control my pen, or perhaps don’t want to, for I share all thoughts with you. So please forgive me, and don’t take it too seriously.
This morning when I woke up, there was an eerie brightness. I jumped out of bed and saw a white blanket of snow covering the earth. To me, it is soothing, covering the ground that in former days has seen such gruesome sights. I like to think of this winter as being different, not of the horror the last one imparted, rather as the wonderland it was during my childhood.
An uncontrollable desire came over me to run out into the snow and build a snowman. And I did build one of sorts. The world is so incredibly beautiful again that I want to—no, I have to—believe that goodness and kindness will prevail.
The new unit in which I work deals with diplomatic mail and Red Cross correspondence, as I may have mentioned. It belongs in the category of “Preferred Mail.” And guess what? My boss’s first name is Kurt! So whenever I lift my eyes, I see his name plate, his desk being across from mine. It’s like a greeting in the flesh, because you are constantly on my mind. Quite a bit of Polish mail crosses my desk these days, mostly dealing with letters sent from camp to camp. The writing reflects so much misery, and in it you find thinly veiled references to poems or sayings,* which usually are not difficult to figure out. Can’t help thinking it’s an intrusion into the privacy of others’ thoughts and feelings, though. In some instances the letters contain information that I’m supposed to stamp “Condemned,” and I agonize over those. It’s a case of duty versus emotion, and there are some things I simply can’t get myself to do.
All my love,
Gerda
New York City, November 13, 1945
My dearest, dearest Gerda,
Your gorgeous Edelweiss is right next to me in order to trigger inspiration.
Today I visited the JDC,* and a great weight has been lifted. They believe that they can be of help in cases like yours. I was advised to dispatch the completed papers to their office, and they will see to it that you will get out of Germany. What they know about Switzerland, on the other hand, is not supposed to be so good. Once in a while there are allegedly cases where exceptions are made, but in general, entrance to that country is not granted, except if you can prove that you will get the American visa immediately.
So that is the exact opposite of my assumptions thus far. But I don’t really care, as long as the JDC can truly do something, perhaps by way of France. Of course, all means would then be at your disposal there as well. If I’m not mistaken, the Joint is represented at the German Museum in Munich. Why don’t you explore whether you can get some information there. In the meantime I’ll issue the affidavits and send them to you. Actually that’ll take a few weeks, because I’ll have to go to Buffalo for them, and I also want to be able to prove that I have a job, what my salary is, etc. In that regard, it looks as if I’m going to have a starting salary of fifty dollars per week, which is neither bad nor exceptionally good. I want to cast about to see whether I can find something better, or at least a job with a future.
Congratulations on your promotion! The letter containing the details has still not arrived, but you did mention that apparently they had you earmarked for a promotion from the start. That probably means that you’ll have to work harder, quite aside from the extra hours they are forcing on you. Is it at least more interesting than the previous work? You know that I want you to withhold absolutely nothing, including anything that is unpleasant or too difficult. By the same token, don’t think that in such a case I would exaggerate your difficulties in my mind. If I recommend that it’s time to give up the censorship position when it gets to be too much, don’t let that keep you from mentioning further details about it in the future. Once the disadvantages outweigh the advantages, let it fall by the wayside.
Barbara was sitting on my lap while I was reading your lines. She’s a real doll and tells me stories for hours about her adventures. Although she is terribly shy with most people, once you win her confidence, you have her complete devotion and can gain many precious insights into the world as seen from a child’s vantage point. That reminds me of a children’s book, a fantastic satire on the puzzling goings-on in the adult world that can only be fully grasped by adults. I’m talking about Alice in Wonderland. That book is merely one of the minor miracles that await you once you’ve perfected your English. Isn’t that an incentive for you to bone up on it?
Incidentally, don’t think for a moment that we’ll speak one more word of German than absolutely necessary. And no moaning or groaning will help you. In that matter I’ll be quite unmerciful. You know I love the English language so much that that alone is sufficient reason why I find America so beautiful.
Can I say how much I am in suspense about the photos you mentioned. I hope I’ll get them soon.
And now, good night, dearest.
All my love,
Kurt
New York City, November 14, 1945
Hello Darling,
I do wish I could wake up each morning like this. The first thing I noticed was that Barbara had moved close to my bed, had gently shaken my shoulder, and, beaming all over, was handing me an airmail envelope. Naturally that could only mean one thing, and it tore me from my state of dazed sleepiness without further ado. It turned out to be your detailed and beautiful reports of October 16 and 31.
Your writing is of such timeless content that I’m convinced I’ll be able to read it over again ten or even fifty years from now and get the same enjoyment out of it. Fashions may change but your soul, never!
Let me start with the matter I consider most important. You mentioned the story of the ID card. It goes without saying that you’ll need to have some sort of citizenship and, as mentioned, the Polish quota is allegedly quite favorable.
I’m glad, by the way, that in general you don’t tie yourself up in self-imposed conventions. Please know that for me something is always “right” if it stems from spontaneous emotions and as long as it does not harm others. I consider it a healthy sign that you sometimes—or even frequently—rebel against all-too-stupid constraints imposed by the world around you. What’s wrong with breaking into laughter if something strikes you as comical? If it’s a prerequisite for adulthood to maintain a stern exterior at all times, and under no circumstances give your sense of humor free rein, then I prefer to remain childish. Are we more mature because we have learned to repress the spontaneous in ourselves?
You write so negatively about the possibility of my coming to Europe. It happens to be true that I myself wouldn’t like to see you being alone in the States in such a case, but I can’t agree with any of the other reasons you give. I made some inquiries in Washington, however, and the State Department claims that even wives of American servicemen wanting to leave Germany cannot be processed any faster. In other respects they will get preferential treatment, as will fiancées. Although the start of processing may take a considerable time yet, let’s wait for further developments. We might still consider it.
Good to hear that you have occasion to visit nightclubs. I regret not being able to accompany you; the atmosphere does appear to be most amusing and entertaining. But I’m sure that we’ll find appropriate substitutes here in time.
A few days ago I too attended something special. I went to the marvelous theater I raved so much about to you, namely Radio City Music Hall. That will be among the first things you’ll have to see. There was an excellent film playing; followed by a symphonic program; then a dance troupe that performed with incredible precision; finally there was a variety show, including a ventriloquist, dancing horse, and what
have you. The whole thing was staged with fantastic light effects, and I could see shows like that time and again without ever being disappointed.
Tomorrow Max is slated to be discharged from the army, and I should finally get to see him then. There’ll be a big “welcome home” dinner for the family on Sunday, and next week, he and Sue will take a vacation, sort of a second honeymoon.
Enough now, more tomorrow. Let me embrace you and kiss you,
Your Kurt
Buffalo, November 17, 1945
My darling Gerda,
In case you are startled by this and similar forms of address, I hasten to declare that it’s high time to begin your “transition.” I was delighted to hear that you are all geared up for America.
Don’t ever think I can no longer put myself into your situation. I remember only too well how I felt before coming to the States and for the first time seeing an American travel brochure advertising a railroad trip from New York to Buffalo and on to Niagara Falls. Everything came across as so “American,” from the paper to the print, color, and design. Here was the America I was soon to see with my own eyes. And that’s what happened to me later, even with the smallest things, normally too trivial to mention. They were all a part, however minimal, of that “land of miracles.”
The matter of your Swiss acquaintance needs immediate discussion, because such a connection cannot be underestimated. Regardless of whether he has influence or not, the least he can do for you is to get the necessary information. Should an opportunity present itself through him that promises any chance of success, do immediately avail yourself of it, if common sense and logic so dictate. Even if such a chance should deviate somewhat from my previous suggestions as to temporary stay there or anywhere else, please don’t wait for my answer, if at all possible. I can modify the formalities here according to any changing situation. Don’t miss any chances simply because you wanted to consult me first as to whether it’s okay to do so.
How can I thank you for the very last souvenir from your autumnal garden? This rose signifies all that is beautiful. It grew and blossomed while we, only a few yards away, bantered, understood each other, danced, forged plans, and got to know each other better. In that sense it is like all we discovered in each other, that sprouted and blossomed until it came—just as did these deep red petals—to full bloom. And now winter has come for us as well, but a winter that already holds the promise of a new spring.
I do want to wish you a most pleasant Hanukkah. Too bad we can’t celebrate together, but I’ve tried to convey my sentiments in a more graphic manner in the shape of a thin, longish parcel [an umbrella], although I’m hoping you won’t have to make all-too-extensive use of it.
My emotions know no limits, and we don’t have to put any constraints on the number of kisses we’re sending each other.
Kurt
New York City, November 19, 1945
My very best little Gerda,
Just got back from downtown and found an envelope stuck into the door frame. Thought instantly that it had to be something special. It turned out to be a cable from Istanbul with a heartfelt message that put me in a splendid mood. I will transmit it verbatim and should you, contrary to my assumption, experience any difficulties with it, there’ll be enough people around you who can help with the translation. So then, here goes:
MY HEARTIEST CONGRATULATIONS AND WARMEST WISHES FOR YOUR FUTURE STOP GOD WITH YOU STOP DETAILED LETTER FOLLOWS STOP PREFER GERDA’S TRANSFER SWITZERLAND STOP WILL INTERVENE CONSULATE HERE STOP MEANTIME PLEASE DO UTMOST YOURS LEOPOLD.
In regard to you, weather is a major concern of mine. You will let me know what winter clothes you really need, won’t you? Otherwise, I’ll only be forced to send things at random, as I had to do thus far.
Last night there was a big “welcome home” supper for Max, who looks terrific, which is unusual for him. Even as a child he never ate properly. Although that improved with time, I remember that he never really knew what he had eaten, because he was always too busy telling tales at mealtime. Can you imagine what yarns he was able to spin about Berlin on this occasion?
Tomorrow morning it will be back to camp for me, and I can only hope that this time I’ll be discharged. If not I’ll get a pass again, because this coming Thursday is a double holiday: Gerdi’s birthday and the American national holiday Thanksgiving. It’s traditional to have a noon meal of turkey on that day, although this year we may have to do without because, incredible as it may sound, a few diverse things are still rather scarce. Naturally they are ludicrously unimportant things compared to your situation. No, your ration coupons are not valid here, so don’t bother sending them to me! But seriously, do tell me what’s lacking on your end. Perhaps I can send something special.
You know, as touching as it was to see your happiness over my safe arrival, I couldn’t fend off a slight smile when I read about the alleged “dangers” I escaped, according to you. You, of all people, are talking about me in that manner! Compared to your experience, my sojourn in Europe was more like a field trip to the botanical gardens by students at a girls’ finishing school.
If all goes well I’ll be in Buffalo by the end of the week, where there is a considerable amount to be done related to your emigration. I don’t suppose I’ll stay there longer than a week.
Barbara just called out a “good night” to me and asked me to give her regards to Aunt Gerda. I’m wondering whether she hasn’t assessed you correctly, because when I answered her question as to whom I’m writing at the moment, she came back instantly with “Can she read?” Far be it from me to judge that, but perhaps you could prove that “she can write” by magically getting something into my mailbox by tomorrow morning. How about it? Your reward will be a few dozen kisses.
Love,
Kurt
Fort Dix, N.J., November 21, 1945
Gerda dearest,
So far every day seems to bring something new, some diversion. Otherwise the waiting for you would be unbearable. I wonder what frame of mind the monotonous rhythm of the hours must be putting you in. Actually I shouldn’t write like that. After all, we also have moments to chat every now and then, and that ought to help us pass this trying period of waiting. It’s just that sometimes a feeling of loneliness overcomes me quite suddenly and then I can’t always be sensible.
I returned to the hospital yesterday and immediately received my discharge, although I do have to stay here at the Separation Center until tomorrow, in order to say good-bye to the army once and for all. I’ll be separated from the service on Thanksgiving Day, giving me even more reason to be thankful. Don’t misunderstand me: In America, people don’t particularly like to play at soldiering, none of which is to say that I’m not immensely proud to have been allowed to wear this uniform and to have been of some service, however minimal, to the country that gave me infinitely more than I can ever repay. At any rate I owe the army a huge debt of gratitude, in view of the fact that without it, I never would have met you!
Naturally I forgot to mention the main thing in my last letter; that is to report on my brother’s reaction to our engagement. As far as he was concerned, I didn’t quite succeed in springing a big surprise. He claimed to have surmised something to that effect at our meeting in Frankfurt, when I apparently talked about you, so this turn of events finds him quite prepared. I accepted profuse congratulations on your behalf, and can only say everybody is very eager to see and meet you.
Listen, Gerda, could you find out how far along Captain Presser is with her points for discharge? I’m thinking that important mail might be lost for an indefinite period of time in case she should suddenly depart. Is there nobody who has signed up for a specific length of time and therefore would know exactly how long he or she will remain there?
An ardent kiss for you, from your
Kurt
Munich, November 22, 1945
My dearest Kurt,
I know that today’s letter will not make much sense. Forgive me, but here it is.
First, concerning our situation: Wherever you look, whatever you read, the word “help” jumps out at you. Yet all the organizations you approach seem dedicated to anything but rendering information or help. Starting with the Polish Legation and Consulate, which is in operation, to the Red Cross and UNRRA,* no one can help me to obtain a certificate of my Polish citizenship. The Polish Committee is again closed for several days, and I am supposed to write to Bielsko, although no normal mail service exists as yet. They do claim that the city hall or Bureau of Vital Statistics will have my birth certificate. Personally I wonder whether those records were destroyed or not. The officials make everything quite difficult under those circumstances. They know very well what the situation is, that we got out of camps, that so much was destroyed. They can question me in the language, in history, or whatever. It really is upsetting, but there is some hope along another avenue. As I told you, one of my coworkers here in the diplomatic section is a Swiss citizen and can travel back and forth to Switzerland—lucky man! He told me that I could get a transit visa through Switzerland because they do have an American consulate.
As you wrote, my uncle has my birth certificate. How wise my father was to have had the foresight to send it to Turkey. With that in hand, and if my uncle could deposit some security funds for me, that should make it possible to get permission to enter Switzerland. He has been offering financial help all along. Naturally I won’t use the money, it’s just so the Swiss have the assurance that I shall not become a burden. But I’ll need to see the American consul in order to get a visa for the United States. With your papers, stating that you will marry me immediately, there should be no trouble. I am told my stay in Switzerland would only be for a few days. If that should work, I pray it may take only four to six weeks until it goes through. Although I don’t dare to let my hopes go too high, I foolishly do so all the same. Please cable Uncle Leo and send me the papers. I think my birth certificate should also allow me to obtain a Polish passport. I am so sorry to trouble you with all that. You have enough to do to find a job, to get back to civilian life and have some rest, instead of taking care of all the details concerning me. I hope that I will be able to make it up to you.
The Hours After Page 17
