“You’re free to go,” Tova said to Gerhard. “We had some information come in, and we now know that you had nothing to do with this.”
“Thank you.” Gerhard stood up and stretched. “I mean really…thank you.”
Tova looked at him. He was disheveled. She was a good judge of character. If she had no other gifts, she could usually rely on her intuition when it came to people. After the first half hour of questioning Gerhard, she had believed that he was telling the truth about everything he’d told her.
“So you want to take me to lunch, and maybe we can talk about you meeting with Demjanjuk—a supervised meeting, of course,” Tova said. It was lunchtime, and she was hungry. Was she being unconventional? Perhaps, but he was an innocent man, and there was something about him that stirred her maternal instinct.
In many ways, he was like a child, weak, and very unlike the Israeli men she knew. She had an hour for lunch, and well, he said he hated eating alone. That was why he’d asked the girls to dinner the night before. She was tired of eating alone, too. So why not?
“Yes. Yes, I do… I do want to talk about arranging a meeting. I would be so pleased if you let me take you for lunch,” Gerhard said.
They walked quietly to a nearby diner. It was a simple place. They ordered their food at the counter and then sat at a white Formica table with two uncomfortable chairs.
“So really? I can’t believe that you came all the way to Israel to talk to this guy, this Nazi?” Tova asked, dipping her pita in the thick, white Tzatziki sauce.
“Yes, all the way from Germany. I’ve been struggling with this situation of mine for many years now. You see, my father, my beloved father, the man I knew anyway, was a good and kind man. So it’s hard for me to believe that he could have been a monster. Can you understand my shame? My dilemma?”
She nodded her head.
“He was such a gentle man at home, always so good to my brother and me. He treated my mother kindly, respectfully. At least, that is how I remember him. When I found out what he did when he left us and went to work during the day at the concentration camp, I was stunned. I am still stunned.
For years, I searched for someone who might have known my father. I met with a Jewish man who was a survivor of the camp. He tried not to think about it, but he said that he remembered my father. When I told him who I was, that I was my father’s son, he spit in my face and said my father was a sadist.
I was sick to my stomach. The meeting had solved nothing for me. The man left me sitting on a park bench. I watched him walk away, and then I ran all the way home. It was about two miles, but I couldn’t stop running. It was like if I could run fast enough, maybe I could escape from the past. But I couldn’t outrun it… Do you understand?
There was no place to go…no place to hide…my father’s sins were all over me, covering me, smothering me. They still are, and always will be. Every day I awaken with guilt beyond measure.”
“You have no reason to be guilty. You didn’t commit the crimes; he did.”
“Yes, but he was my father. I always wanted a family, but I will never have children because I know that the blood line must stop with me.”
Tova hated Nazis. She knew plenty of survivors. They were all over Israel, and she’d heard their stories, their horrific, painful stories of being tortured by unscrupulous sadists.
She had friends and parents of friends, who were still marred by the experiments that were done on their bodies. Tova had seen lots of frightening black and white photographs that had been taken of the piles of corpses, of the gas chambers, and the crematoriums.
And always, in the back of her mind, as in the back of the mind of every Jew, she knew that if she had been born in Europe during the reign of Hitler’s Third Reich, her body and the bodies of her sisters and her parents would be amongst those skeletal corpses. So why did she not hate the man who sat across from her? How was it so easy for her to forgive him for the sins of his father?
“When I heard that Demjanjuk was captured, I knew I had to talk to him. You see, I was just a little boy, but he came to my house once to meet with my father. I am sure I must be insane for doing this, but I must ask him if it is true. I have to hear the truth from his lips. I have to know for absolutely certain that my father really did these things, and if he did, why? I must hear it directly from someone who knew my father, another Nazi who is guilty of the same horrible sins…” Gerhard was not able to eat. His hands were shaking.
Tova was surprised at her reaction. She felt sorry for Gerhard. He was unlike any of the men she had ever known. Here he sat across from her, running his trembling hands through his thinning, blond hair and looking like a broken marionette. Most of the men Tova grew up with were Israelis: strong willed, unbending, ashamed of weakness. This man, this Gerhard, seemed more vulnerable than a child. She watched him as he spoke of the anguish that haunted his soul, and Tova could not help but believe his words.
“I can’t guarantee anything. I am only an officer of the law. However, I will try to arrange a meeting. It will be chaperoned, of course, and it will be through a glass. There will be no physical contact between you and Demjanjuk. You realize this?”
“I understand. If it could be arranged…”
“I’ll see what I can do. Give me the phone number and the room number to your hotel and I’ll call you later this afternoon.”
“Tova…thank you.”
She nodded. He was a strange man, indeed.
***
Tova put in a request to speak with her supervisor who immediately called her into his office.
“What’s this about?” he asked.
“You remember that German guy I was questioning about the kidnapping case?”
“Yeah.”
“Well…” She proceeded to explain why Gerhard had come to Israel and how she felt he should be allowed to meet with the old Nazi.
Her boss was appalled, and her request was denied. From the look on his face, she knew that there was no point in trying to convince him. The meeting between Gerhard and the Nazi, who was nicknamed “Ivan the Terrible,” because of the horrific things he did to the prisoners, would never take place.
After work, Tova walked home in silence through the busy streets of Tel Aviv. The delectable fragrance of food being prepared wafted out of the doors of the cafés and restaurants. Cars honked their horns. Women walked by, carrying bags filled with purchases. To Tova, everyone seemed to be in a hurry, and they all seemed to have a place to go. But she was alone, as always, and she returned as she did every night to the small studio apartment she shared with her cat, Aya.
As usual, Aya was meowing loudly when Tova opened the door. It was mealtime. Tova poured the hard pebbles of cat food into a bowl then refreshed Aya’s water. The cat ate furiously—as if she’d been denied food for weeks, when in fact she’d been fed earlier that morning. Tova loved Aya’s appetite. She gave her a feeling of purpose, a living thing depended upon her. That was a reason to go on living.
The truth was that she was terribly lonely. She’d never been married and was now past the age of having children. She had friends at work, but they had families and rarely had time to spend with a spinster.
Once, several years ago, Tova had thought about adopting a child. She relished the idea of being a mother but then reality set in. She lived alone, and she had been able to save very little money over the years. Every paycheck counted. Therefore she couldn’t take time off of work. If she were even approved for an adoption, there would be no one at home every day to care for the child. So she’d abandoned the idea.
Tova changed into a pair of loose jeans and a T-shirt, and then twisted her hair into a ponytail. She sat down on the sofa and thought about what to have for dinner. There wasn’t much food in the refrigerator.
She’d meant to go shopping, but shopping and cooking for one was depressing, so often she went without eating dinner. Tonight could easily be one of those nights. Aya finished her bowl of food and leapt up
onto her master’s lap. Tova kissed Aya’s head and began petting her.
She knew she would have to call Gerhard and tell him that she had not been able to get him approved for a meeting with the Nazi. Knowing what she did about his life, she had no doubt that he be disappointed, devastated. Well, what was the point in turning it over in her mind? She might as well get it over with.
Once she told Gerhard, Tova could turn on the television and lose herself in some movie. Tova gently placed Aya on the floor. She got up, poured herself a glass of wine, and took Gerhard’s phone number out of her purse. Then, she picked up the receiver and dialed the hotel.
A phone operator with a cheerful voice put her through to the room.
“Gerhard?”
“Yes…”
“This is Tova from the police station.” She should have called herself Officer Ben-Levi, but for some reason, she felt more comfortable being on a less formal basis with this man.
“Yes, Tova. I’m so glad you called. Did you find out anything?”
“I’m sorry, Gerhard. I cannot arrange a meeting. I tried…”
There was silence for a few minutes. He gave a short laugh, trying to make light of the situation, but she could hear the hurt in his voice.
“I should have expected as much… It’s okay. You tried. I appreciate everything you’ve done.”
“Are you going home tomorrow?”
“Yes, I’ll leave as soon as I can get a flight.”
“This might sound a little crazy, but you came all this way. I mean, it was a long flight and all.” She took a sip of wine. She couldn’t believe she was doing this. “I mean… Would you, maybe, like to see a little bit of Israel? Learn a little about our people. After all, you’re here already…” She was unsure why she’d even asked him, and she felt foolish. Tova held her breath, waiting for Gerhard, to answer.
“You know, I would like to do that. I don’t really know much about Israel, or about the Jewish people. I only know what I have studied and read in books, but I’ve had very little actual contact with anyone who is Jewish. All I know is that I have this guilt I carry and the anti-Semitic fear-based stories that I’ve heard.”
“Anti-Semitism doesn’t die easily.”
“No, it doesn’t. I’m sad to say that it’s still very much alive in Eastern Europe.”
“You don’t feel any anti-Semitism at all? You can tell me. I won’t judge you.”
“I don’t know what I feel. I don’t feel hatred. But the truth is that because I was raised with warnings about Jews there are still some fears inside of me. But I want to dispel those fears. I want to go forward with my life and leave everything my father did and everything that society taught me behind. Does that make sense?”
“Of course. Why don’t you get ready and I can show you a little of Israel before the sun goes down?”
“I’d like that.”
Tova picked Gerhard up at his hotel forty-five minutes later. She drove to Rothschild Blvd and parked across the street from a white stone building.
“This is Independence Hall. Here is where Israel became a nation. The Jews fought long and hard for this.”
“I know. I studied Jewish history. It’s funny how guilt makes you want to know and understand things. I wanted to learn about Jews. I wanted to know why they were so hated.”
“And what did you find out?” Tova asked.
“Nothing that makes much sense. I don’t know why they have suffered the way that they have. The only thing I can think of is fear. People start rumors and make up stories, and then ignorant people believe these stories and before you know it, you have a serious problem.”
“Now that you’re here in Israel and surrounded by Jews, what do you see? What do you think?”
“The truth?”
“Of course, what else?”
“You won’t be mad?” he asked.
“I promise.”
“I see a people who are maybe a little too bold, maybe a little too demanding and coarse.”
“Yes, we are that way. We don’t play games—we don’t have time for games.”
“Yes, and also, I see a strong people, a people who would no longer go willingly to a concentration camp,” he said, his voice cracking, “and a people who will fight to keep their religion and race alive.”
“And how does that make you feel?”
He shook his head and bit his lower lip. “Glad that Hitler was not able to destroy the entire Jewish race. Sick that my father was a participant.
But at least, I can see that from what happened to them, the Jews have become strong. Everywhere I go I see the flag with the blue Star of David. It reminds me of seeing the yellow star when I was a child, sewn onto the clothing of the Jews. Except now, that star is imprinted upon a flag that flies high with the pride of a people who fought for their very existence. Everywhere I’ve gone since I’ve been here, I can see the love that these people have for this country.”
“I could take you to talk to some survivors, but I think you already know what happened.”
“Oh yes, I do, and if I could change it, I would.”
The building that housed Independence Hall was closed, but they walked up the street anyway.
“And the hardest part for me is that even with everything that I know, I can’t help it. I love my father. I don’t love the man who lived inside of my father’s body and helped to commit mass murder. But I never knew that man. I never even knew of his existence, not until my father was dead. The man I knew was a kind and gentle husband and father to my mother, my brothers and me.”
She looked up at him. His eyes were watery, and she thought he might cry again.
“How can you love and hate someone at the same time?” he asked, shrugging his shoulders.
She shook her head.
“I am ashamed…so ashamed.”
They walked in silence for several minutes.
“Gerhard…you can’t change the past. And even if you had known what your father was doing, you could not have stopped him. You were only a child.”
“But how do I assuage the guilt? What do I do to forgive my father and to make amends to a people he harmed so greatly? Is there any way to hope to even ask for forgiveness for such terrible crimes?”
“Gerhard…if you had committed the crimes, perhaps there would be no forgiveness. But it was not you who did these things.”
“I know that, intellectually...but emotionally, well, I’ve developed stomach ulcers from trying to live with all of it.”
“Have you ever considered volunteer work?”
“You mean like community service?”
“Yes, like that.”
“I don’t know what I could do.”
“I have an idea.” She looked up at him and smiled.
“Yes?”
“Why don’t we stop and have some dinner and I’ll tell you?”
“All right,” he said, nodding...“all right.”
She heard the hope in his voice, and it comforted her.
They saw the sign for a kosher pizza restaurant about a half of a block away.
“Pizza okay with you?” she asked.
“Sure.”
They placed their order at the counter for a cheese and mushroom pizza, two colas, and an Israeli salad. Tova reached for her wallet, but Gerhard stopped her. “I insist,” he said.
“But you paid for lunch.”
“Please allow me…”
She shrugged her shoulders.
“Come on, it’s only a pizza?”
She nodded her head. “Okay.”
He paid, then they sat at a table in the back of the restaurant. It was getting late, and the dinner crowd had already left, leaving only a few other tables still occupied.
Tova smiled at Gerhard. He couldn’t help but think that although she was not beautiful in a classic sense, she was certainly very pretty when she smiled.
“What I am thinking is this… Perhaps you could see if you might be able to offer
to speak to groups of people who come from all over the world to tour the concentration camps?”
“You mean like a tour guide, almost?”
“Yes…”
“I would have to be at the camp all the time. It would tear me to pieces. I would have to take even stronger sleeping pills at night.”
The man at the counter called Tova’s name to say that the food was ready. Gerhard jumped to his feet. “I’ll get it,” he said, and brought the food to the table.
“I have another idea. This one might be even better,” Tova said, placing a slice of pizza on a paper plate and putting it in front of Gerhard, and then serving herself.
“You are full of ideas tonight,” he said, but not sarcastically. His smile was genuine, and she couldn’t help but be touched by the sincerity.
“Have you ever been to Jerusalem?” she asked.
“No, I came straight here to Tel Aviv. This is the only place I’ve been in Israel.”
“When do you have to be back in Germany?”
“I have three weeks before I must return to work, but once I got the news about the meeting I was going to leave right way.”
“So you can stay?”
“Yes… I can.”
“Hear me out. In Jerusalem, there is a Holocaust museum and memorial called Yad Vashem. Have you heard of it?”
“Vaguely, yes.”
“This might be a crazy idea. After all, you have a job and a life in Germany. But what if you came here once a year when you took your vacation and you arranged to speak at Yad Vashem? What if you could tell your story to the visitors who came there and maybe by helping people to remember and to understand, you could, in some small way, prevent this from ever happening again?”
Gerhard studied this strange woman who sat across the table from him. He had never felt so attracted to anyone. She was unlike any woman he’d ever known intimately with her olive skin, dark hair, and onyx eyes. The more he knew her, the more he found her to be beautiful. It was not a beauty that one could see immediately, but once he discovered it, he saw her beauty was constantly growing. She was kind, sensitive, and brilliant. He loved the idea of doing something meaningful, something that might in some small way help him to undo the sins of his father.
Forever, My Homeland: The Final Book in the All My Love, Detrick Series Page 15
