Love and kisses,
Gerda
I do vividly remember Heinz Bäumler’s homecoming and the bitterness it caused me.
There was his mother’s boundless joy; bordering on hysteria, when he first entered the house, followed immediately by her preparation of his favorite food, Pfannkuchen,* filled with jam. It brought back how my mother had also hoarded a little jam from before the war, awaiting a special occasion, and then gave it to me on the day she was sent to her death. And there I sat, upstairs, listening to Frau Bäumler’s rejoicing. Soon thereafter I was introduced to him and he was most polite, jumped up from his chair, and I heard the clicking of his heels, my eyes riveted to the dark spots on his uniform where the insignia was missing.
The following morning I woke up to the sound of his shouting and the shattering of crockery. In a wild tantrum he was venting his anger and frustration. “Don’t you understand, Mutter, we lost the war?! We lost the war!” And I, who “won” the war, was cowering upstairs, trembling, my tears staining the flower-patterned pillows in which I buried my face so that my sobs couldn’t be heard.
Somehow I never wondered how he must have felt when Kurt would come to visit me. He, the former German officer, the fading of his uniform showing the outline of the swastika, and the traces of his rank, which had been torn off. And there was Kurt, the American officer in full uniform, with his shining bars and multicolored ribbons.
I haven’t thought about that until now. Did that thought comfort me then? I just don’t know.
Munich, December 18, 1945
My dearest Kurt,
It is Sunday and a bright sunny morning. Completing all the household chores made me feel well and joyful. Opening the window wide and inhaling the crisp, clear air gives me a sense of youth and strength, and makes me want to embrace the entire world, especially the one across the ocean.
Let me tell you about a preliminary meeting in regard to my future job. I was hired and, having been asked to attend one of their sessions, was rather nervous, being the only girl in the company of six distinguished gentlemen. I would guess that most of them are my father’s age. The meeting dealt with the stance the Bavarian Aid Society should adopt and what responsibility it should accept vis-à-vis all the needy cases in Bavaria. I was deeply distressed and disappointed when it was decided that the operation would fall into three categories: care for (1) Jewish survivors of concentration camps, (2) part-Jewish concentration camp survivors, and (3) politically persecuted people. I posed the question of whether the care and help within the framework of the three groups would differ? The answer was: “No!” Why, then, must there be three divisions? Obviously all of our clients have suffered; why must we create differences and splinter groups? Why can’t we band together and use our resources to help them all?
I looked around me slowly, all the while wondering whether they were aware of a radio program I had listened to a few days earlier. No doubt some of them had attended the event that had been broadcast. It was a program that created widespread discussions about the Munich radio transmission of a special Christmas/Hanukkah observance. First a Catholic priest spoke, then a Protestant minister, and finally a rabbi. All focused on how we must strive to forge a better world together. I was moved to tears as the choir sang of how all humanity should be united by a “divine spark” of brotherhood.* But only yesterday I learned how far we are from the realization of that lofty ideal. As you know I feel very strongly Jewish, and only God knows how much our people have suffered. But perhaps because of that I can’t bear segregation and discrimination in the rendering of help. That is why I asked the questions, only to be met with silence.
No, Kurt, the world, at least this one, stands on a pretty shaky foundation. I guess with that attitude I am not going to advance here very fast or too far.
On my way home after the meeting, I bought a bunch of fragrant greenery. It was clean and sweet and most refreshing. I found it soothing to arrange it in a couple of vases. That certainly was preferable to meeting with people who think of themselves as standing at the apex of so-called justice. I will work there. I will and must, and it will give me some satisfaction to help a few, I hope. At the same time I do realize that I will not be able to render help to all those who need it most, nor will everybody be satisfied with what I am able to do. I guess there can be no absolutes; therefore I can’t be totally satisfied.
And so my eyes wander elsewhere for a more complete fulfillment. I’m looking at the future, to the one with whom I can find it. You must know him well, since you have been with him since July 2, 1920.
Have to leave now to attend an engagement party.
Till later,
Gerda
Buffalo, December 19, 1945
Gerda dearest,
Let me get right down to answering your two letters of late November, which arrived simultaneously. How good that you repeated the matter of the certification, because the letter in which you originally detailed it is still outstanding. I can only hope now that the enclosed document, a sort of affidavit, will be found to be adequate by the Swiss consul, inasmuch as it makes my intentions unequivocally clear. I also stated in it that you are only visiting Switzerland as a tourist, and that means are at your disposal through the account in Zurich, that no American consul in Germany can issue you a visa, and that that is the only reason why you are going to Switzerland.
Immediately on getting to Buffalo, I called the Swiss representative and, as a follow-up, went to his home, explained the whole matter, and asked that he cable the Swiss consul in Munich, stating that he’s checked over the substantiating papers here and found them to be okay. Meanwhile he is also sending copies of that to Munich by diplomatic mail, something he declared himself willing to do. Now I’m curious whether the Swiss consulate notified you of the matter.
You really achieved quite a lot on your own. I thought it was impossible to obtain a Polish passport, and now you mention that you have one without saying how you managed it. I assume that those are some of the details that are still on the way. At the moment the mail service leaves a lot to be desired, but the situation ought to improve after the New Year.
Good luck in your interview with the Swiss consul. I just know you’ll pull it off without any difficulties. So far you’ve certainly handled it fabulously well. You’re going to have to tell me a whole lot more about it once you’re here.
Now, more than ever, I’d like to be near you, because I can imagine what you’re going through. What an emotional upheaval it must have been to get the report of Artur’s being in Turkey, something Uncle Leo subsequently didn’t confirm. I can only hope that the rumor was based on fact all the same, and that an error was made only in reference to his exact locale. Can you track down the report in greater detail? The question of whether or not I’ll remain in Buffalo isn’t entirely settled yet. I can only say that one of the job offers fell through, but a few other possibilities have surfaced meanwhile. I’m sorry to have to spend so much time on it, but I realize that for this search it’s tremendously important that I find the right thing. I know from experience that once I start a new job it’s not that easy to break away, if it happens to be a bad one.
I’m awaiting good news from you, but would much prefer to take you into my arms and hold you tight!
Kurt
Buffalo, December 22, 1945
My dearest Gerda,
I woke up this morning right next to your beautiful Hanukkah letter, containing the news of your success at the Polish Committee. First off I want to give you the name and address of a cousin of my father. She and her husband live in Basel, and you can use them as a reference when you go to the Swiss consulate. They have been of great assistance to other members of my family regarding emigration. I don’t know them personally, but you can count on them in every respect. You might even prefer to stay in Basel, in which case I know they’d be happy to help you find a room. Above all they could acquaint you with everything you’ll need to know there.
I can’t wait for their answer because speed is of the essence in your matter. I assure you you don’t need to have the slightest qualms about contacting them.
It’s fantastic how you conquer wherever you go. It seems you’re able to turn all difficulties to your advantage. All it takes is your wish, your willpower—the determination to act—and the world is yours. Your personality emanates so much that is good that obstacles simply evaporate.
Incidentally we might consider the Paris alternative, but only if Switzerland is out of the question. If the Polish Committee should succeed in getting you to Paris, then all you’d have to do is to see the Joint Distribution Committee. I wouldn’t worry about a possible conflict. They wouldn’t care who got you to Paris, as long as you were there.
Your thoughts on Hanukkah were magnificent. How great that you could enjoy a preview of things to come next year. Yes, we’ll see to it that everything the lights promised will come true.*
I’ve been anticipating getting a few good photos, but they are not quite ready yet, so instead, accept some bad ones today; they were taken a few weeks ago.
Let’s hear from you soon; I’m looking forward to it so much. All my love, Kurt
Munich, December 23, 1945
My dearest,
I had a very satisfactory meeting with the overall head of the Bavarian Aid Society. He couldn’t have been nicer. We discussed my salary, and I told him that it really doesn’t matter, inasmuch as I could easily have been on the receiving end of such a service myself. I suggested he should give me what he thought was right because I am pleased to be working for such an organization and all it stands for, even if it is far from perfect. Please, Kurt, don’t think I disdain the importance of money. I know that it provides some security, but I also know that by itself it doesn’t make people happy. He suggested a starting salary of two hundred reichmarks, to be raised each month (I hope not for too many months, in this case), and I’ll be able to eat free of charge in the same building and receive free tickets to all cultural events. But above all he indicated that he would introduce me to the person in charge of the Joint who could help me get out of Germany. That’s decent of him, considering that he just hired me. Maybe he wants to get rid of me?
Went to the circus tonight, and there was a delightful bear riding a motorcycle. Also lots of clowns, who brought mountains of hay to the arena, assuring the audiences that it was not for the horses but for the asses who believed in the One Thousand-Year Reich.* Got back late, about 10 P.M. Lots of Christmas activity. I hope I don’t have to participate too much, but how can I refuse, being a guest in this house? Margaret, my English friend, invited me to her parents’ home for plum pudding. She explained the significance of that flaming delicacy, and I am extremely eager to go there. I was able to buy a pretty wooden candlestick for her. I found it among a mountain of the usual kitsch for sale.
I wrote a few notes to people who work with me and drew some decorations around the borders of my cards. They came out quite well.
It’s 3 A.M., but I still had to write to tell you that every stroke of my paintbrush was accompanied by thoughts of you. You know, I don’t recognize myself. How did all this come about? During my entire girlhood I always kept silent about my feelings concerning affairs of the heart. I had crushes on some of Artur’s friends and never admitted it to anyone. What would the nuns in my convent school think of me now? Throughout our early relationship you never betrayed your feelings, and neither did I. Now the floodgates have opened, and it seems we understood each other even in that silence.
Good night, Kurt; ten thousand kisses,
Gerda
Munich, December 25, 1945
My dearest Kurt,
Whenever I start a letter to you, I let my thoughts go back to the moment when I put my pen down at the end of my previous letter, then try to review what happened in the interim.
I have been seeing my friends Esther and her husband, and another couple. It is so very strange to hear them constantly referring to each other as “my husband” and “my wife.” The last time we lived a normal life, we had hardly outgrown playing with dolls, and now we are somehow grown up. I guess because all normalcy was arrested, there was no period of transition allowing for social development between the ages of fifteen and twenty-one. So here we are with a hundred years of life experience, consisting of unmitigated horror, but what happened to our normal growth and maturity?
Esther told me some news that really sent me into orbit. It’s about a friend of mine, Tania, from Bielsko. We were together until the time of the death march, when she was chosen to go with the other column, which took a different route. Well, she got married three weeks ago, and I simply can’t imagine her in that status. She was such a tomboy and whirlwind, so much fun. Hearing that triggered a long-forgotten memory.
Tania was in love at age twelve, or at any rate had a crush on this boy. Her heartthrob was seventeen, one of Artur’s friends, by the name Kubi. He was one of the best-looking guys in our circle in Bielsko, and naturally was oblivious to her infatuation with him. I had to swear not to tell anyone about it, not even Artur. The only reason she took me into her confidence was in order to find out diplomatically where their usual hangouts were. It goes without saying that at their ripe old age, the boys would look with disdain at twelve-year-olds. However, I did find out that Kubi, in turn, had a crush on a girl with whom Artur’s girlfriend was close.
Tania was inconsolable. She made me get paper, pen, and sealing wax, then proceeded to write down her resolve never to trust men again and never to get married. Needless to say I was touched to the depth of my soul by her nobility and self-sacrifice, and that prompted me to add my signature to her vow. Afterward we attached this “sacred” document to a kite and let it soar to the skies. I can’t help but wonder who found it and what they might have thought of such self-denial? Now that Tania has broken her oath, I think it may be okay for me to do likewise. She is coming to Munich with her husband, and I can’t wait to see her.
Much, much love. I miss you so.
Gerda
Buffalo, December 25, 1945
Hello, Miss Moonbeam,
Well, I’ve never been so well compensated for a long period of waiting. First came three of your letters, dating back to the beginning of December, followed by others from November. You write so beautifully; every small detail, every seemingly trivial incident takes on a special significance because of the way it flows from your pen and touches my senses, which in turn magically conjure up the shape of your thoughts for me. It shows we have to be capable of being moved by small things in order fully to enjoy the big ones. I feel sorry for people who can no longer believe in fairy tales; they miss a lot.
That reminds me of a book by the Chinese writer Lin Yutang, who lives in the United States. His theory is that we are all born sentimental, but that we gradually repress such sentimentality, something we may even boast about in the erroneous assumption that the less sensitivity we display, the more “mature” we are. That is our way of “steeling” ourselves against life. What peculiar notions people do have!
But to get back to the mundane: I was so disappointed about the negative answer by the Swiss consulate. I hope something can be done. I don’t understand this attitude at all. Perhaps your Swiss acquaintance can intercede. When do you expect him back? I read in the papers that President Truman came out with a statement that help will be rendered to “displaced persons” to the limit of our ability. Of course it’s going to be done within the framework of existing immigration regulations, but it’s supposed to be made easier, and all those who became homeless are to get preferential treatment. Sounds beautiful, but let’s see what comes of it.
If it weren’t for the new job opportunity that came up for you, I would have to persuade you to give up your present one. I just can’t continue to watch you being exposed to these spiritual conflicts, to see how you regard each line you are reading in the light of your own experiences, thereby lettin
g the past well up in all its pain and bitterness. I know only too well from my own emotions how limited and futile thoughts of retribution can be. It will never replace our losses. Vengeance is something toward which every human being is inclined, but it must never be allowed to degenerate into senseless hatred because it consumes and shatters us. Gerda, let’s be done with the past and where the wounds are deepest; they should be replaced only by respect, by reverence, and by the gentle pain that is a symptom of the healing process. Yes, Gerda, please do it for me, but above all for yourself!
The matter of the Bavarian Aid Society appeals to me. It’s always a daring step to venture into something like that, but it does take courage to try what is uncertain. Should it turn out that the people you have to deal with are not the right ones, then you can always give up that position and devote yourself to the study of English. I’ll take care of the necessary financial arrangements. By the time this letter reaches you, most of these matters will quite likely have been resolved. Let’s hope that, meanwhile, either Switzerland or France will have come through.
You really stuck to your writing quite assiduously. I was so happy with your “Daily Journal,” and think that such a sacrifice deserves a better reward than I can provide with my inadequate correspondence. Even I have to recognize what an achievement it is to concern yourself with me from early morning till late at night. But your lines fully accomplished their intended aim. Cupid, irresistible as he is, really did it to me. His arrows unerringly found their target. Yet I have unlimited confidence in his playful pursuits.
I’m still without a job, but expect to have definite word about it by tomorrow. I’m so sick of this uncertainty; it gives me a lot to think about. If nothing comes of it, I’ll stay in Buffalo until New Year’s, then go to New York to find something concrete.
The Hours After Page 22
