Fritz laughed.
‘And you’re laughing?’ Richard flushed with anger.
‘No, I was thinking of something else. A colleague of mine was telling me the German greeting is ideal for pub-goers. Say “Three litres” as fast as you can.’
‘Dreilitter.’
‘And if you raise your right arm at the same time, it starts to sound the same as “Heil Hitler”. So if people don’t want to do the German greeting, they just say how much beer they want.’
Now Richard saw the funny side. ‘Takes a bit to understand it.’
‘Yes, but you mustn’t go muddling it up and say, “Three pints,” by mistake. Doesn’t work then. I’m having another. What about you?’
Four days later Richard was in his office when Frau Mönicke’s reply arrived. She wrote that she knew nothing of any mental illness in her husband’s family, but that his grandmother had hanged herself in the attic years ago.
Richard sighed. For most expert opinions, one suicide would be a clear indicator of long-standing mental illness in the family. He’d have to think of something else. But what? His mind was a blank.
Eventually, he wrote:
Whether or not one agrees with the general view that schizophrenia is hereditary – something for which there is no adequate evidence, only the power of a decision made in law – there is at the present time no verified way of determining its onset in advance. Furthermore, the influence of environmental factors and the traumatic experiences at the time of the onset cannot be ruled out. The assumption made by Dr Brockmann that schizophrenia, independent from any trauma, developed in the patient’s twenty-sixth year, is unreliable because it deals with only a statistical average of the first manifestation. In our asylum alone, original cases have been observed between the ages of eighteen and forty-seven. Even if one assumes a genetic predisposition, it remains speculative as to when the illness would have manifested itself in favourable conditions. Taking into consideration the fact that first manifestations are regularly seen well into the fifth decade of life, in more favourable conditions the patient would have expected fifteen to twenty years of good health during which he would have been able to support his family. Because his war trauma took this opportunity away from him, it seems only fair that the state undertake to provide an invalidity pension for a deserving war veteran and national comrade.
Six weeks later he heard that the payment of the invalidity pension to the family had definitively ceased. The pension authority went along with his expert statement only insofar as saying the wife need not pay back monies already received, because one could not rule out with any certainty that the schizophrenia had been prematurely triggered by trauma.
Chapter 27
Hamburg, January 1936
‘You can’t mean this! Leonie, please think it over again, both of you!’ Paula was on the telephone and very upset.
‘Paula, I’m so sorry, but we’ve been thinking about little else for ages, I promise you. But Papa has decided and I’m going with him. There’s nothing for us here now.’
Paula gasped. On the one hand, she completely understood Leonie’s logic. The Law for the Protection of German Blood and German Honour had now been in place for a few months and was a kick in the teeth for all Jewish citizens. Marriage between Jews and Aryans had immediately become an offence, as had sexual intercourse outside marriage, described as ‘racial defilement’ and punishable by imprisonment. On top of this, Leonie’s father had now lost his access to the health insurance system and therefore the majority of his patient base. Yet Paula kept hoping that things would change. She didn’t want to lose her closest friend.
Leonie carried on, ‘My father’s got friends in Switzerland. They’re desperate for doctors. He could open a really successful practice there and I could work in a hospital. And I won’t be halfway to prison if I make my own choice about who I want to be with.’ Leonie gave a bitter laugh. ‘Paula, there’s no other solution. We’re ready to close up our home here and leave behind everything we can’t take with us.’
Paula went cold. She just couldn’t believe what was happening. ‘And when are you leaving?’
‘Early March. But don’t worry, we’ll see each other lots before then.’
Paula swallowed hard and changed the subject before she slipped into even greater despair. ‘You’re due to come over again soon in any case. The day before yesterday, Georg said a whole sentence and it was completely intelligible. Well, intelligible to us.’
‘That’s wonderful. I’m so thrilled for you. Who’d have thought he’d make such good progress!’
‘He benefits a lot from having a twin who can hear and who practises every day with him. Dr Stamm was saying that in different times he’d have written a paper on Georg’s positive development and the opportunities created for deaf children by early intervention, but given the times we live in, this would only harm Georg and we shouldn’t in any way push ourselves forward and attract attention. The longer we can conceal his deafness, the better.’
‘But there’s no inherited deafness in Georg’s case.’
‘That doesn’t interest the Hereditary Health Court. They demand proof of no hereditary factors. And if you can’t prove it, you’re sterilised – it’s arranged, and that’s it. Did you know the government now arranges marriages between those who’ve been sterilised so they can remain among their own kind and not marry anyone who wants children?’
Leonie was speechless.
‘That’s why we don’t want Georg to be noticed by the Gesundheitspolizei – that’s what they’re calling these so-called enforcers of “racial hygiene”. It’ll be hard in two years’ time when he starts school because he can’t follow the lessons in normal school, which is why we’ve been sending him to Bürgerweide. Richard asked a trusted colleague to produce a statement for Georg, saying that he has no hereditary condition and that only the circumstances of his birth caused his hearing loss.’
‘I thought you weren’t completely sure about that.’
‘You’re right. We’re not. But it’s not about the truth, it’s about protecting Georg.’
‘Have you two ever thought of leaving the country like us?’
‘No. This is our home.’
‘That’s how my father and I used to feel. But as time goes on, that home’s being destroyed for us.’
‘I don’t think you can compare our situations, Leonie. Richard knows how to protect Georg. Apart from our boy’s condition, we have no other major problems to deal with. Life’s pretty good if you fall within the Führer’s approved racist definitions. And anyway, who knows, maybe the Olympics will change things in the summer. With the whole world coming to Germany for that, they’ll have to ease off those restrictive laws at some point.’
Leonie sighed. ‘Paula, much as I value your optimism, I can’t see it as you do. To be honest, I feel as though everything that’s ever meant anything is collapsing around my ears.’
This gave Paula pause, as what Leonie had said could just as easily have come from Richard’s lips.
At the Langenhorn asylum Richard had long been accustomed to writing expert statements in a certain style. He continued to use his argument in favour of saving money by being more careful about indicating sterilisation and was seen as a respected colleague. But his regular contact with Alfred Schär meant he knew how hard it was for the deaf and dumb. Schär was frequently asked to interpret at Hereditary Health trials, and what he had to tell was shocking. Even if someone was demonstrably the first deaf mute in the family, this was no guarantee of their safety. There was an accumulation of expert opinion which assumed a new mutation and pronounced in favour of sterilisation. While it had originally been Richard asking Alfred Schär for advice, now it was Schär who had to turn to Richard with complex questions, in the hope that Richard might find a loophole with which to influence the opinion of the court expert.
Once Richard recognised that logical debate was not what this was about, he let slip during a p
hone conversation with Schär that he was protecting his son by means of a falsified medical certificate, according to which Georg had hearing difficulties due only to birth trauma and that there was no indication whatsoever of anything hereditary.
Schär listened attentively and invited Richard to come to his home in Hamburg’s Volksdorf district in order to discuss the matter in more detail. Richard had already been there twice with Paula on social occasions, but when he asked if he might bring her this time, Schär said no.
‘I’d like you to come here alone this time. And park your car a couple of streets away.’
‘That all sounds rather furtive!’ Richard tried to cover up his uncertainty with a gentle laugh.
‘Some things are better discussed in person than over the phone. I’ll see you at eight.’
With this Schär put down the telephone, and Richard rang Paula to let her know he’d be home late. She seemed unconcerned by this, and as he could hear the children making a noise in the background he didn’t want to keep her, much as he’d have loved to hear what she thought about Schär’s odd behaviour.
At eight o’clock sharp he rang the doorbell. As requested, he’d parked his car a couple of streets away, though he still didn’t understand why.
Schär opened the door. ‘Quickly, come in, please.’
‘Why? Are the Gestapo after you?’ Richard joked, but he paused when he saw Schär’s expression. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘My neighbours are rabid Nazis. In the last six months or so they’ve reported me because I let out two rooms to a Jewish family. And old Dellbrück opposite has started noting down my visitors’ registration plates. I’m on the blacklist around here.’ He let out a bitter chuckle. ‘The Gestapo have already called me in once in the last year to caution me.’
‘What for? It isn’t forbidden to rent to Jews.’
‘Not yet,’ said Schär, ‘but it’s not exactly encouraged. Especially if you were on the Volksdorf municipal council until 1932, as I was, as a member of the SPD.’
As they talked, Schär led him through into the living room, where two men were already seated. One looked very young, twenty at most; the other was around Richard’s age.
‘Klaus Weber and Matthias Olderog.’ Schär introduced them both to Richard. ‘ISK comrades.’
The men got to their feet and shook hands with Richard.
‘ISK?’ he asked. ‘Is that the International Socialist Action Group?’
Schär nodded. ‘In a country where all political parties are banned, it’s our job to preserve the values of liberty and to fight for a society free from exploitation.’
Richard cleared his throat. ‘I’m honoured that you have so much faith in me . . . but I’ve really no interest in joining a forbidden organisation.’
‘You don’t need to join anything at all.’ Matthias Olderog was quick to appease. ‘But your knowledge and professional competence could help us.’
‘How’s that?’
‘The same way you’ve helped your son,’ explained Schär. ‘We need respected experts to provide medical certificates that rule out hereditary illnesses or permanent damage. Without them, the people affected are simply being handed to this repressive regime on a plate.’
Richard swallowed hard. ‘And what illnesses are we talking about here? I’m a psychiatrist. I can’t produce a certificate for a deaf mute. It was hard enough finding someone to take on the risk for my son.’
‘It’s predominantly comrades who are suffering from shell shock,’ said Olderog. ‘Can you see yourself helping men like them?’
Richard suddenly saw his brother before him, reduced to terror and helplessness by the slightest sound, unable to eat or drink, existing only in his own world. It brought back to Richard how powerless he himself had felt when their bad decision had put his brother in an asylum where he had been subjected to such merciless treatment that it had killed him. He swallowed hard again.
‘How far can I actually help, though? If the invalidity pension is suspended, there’s little I can do; the current legal position doesn’t leave much room for manoeuvre for any expert opinion. And even if one does support it, the pension authority is pretty much always opposed.’
‘It’s only about confirming the full recovery of the individuals concerned, especially if they haven’t been in receipt of the invalidity pension for a long time. Would you do that?’
‘Yes, I can see that working. But I don’t fully understand why that’s so important.’
‘We fear that what we’re seeing now is just the beginning,’ explained Schär. ‘Who knows where all this fanaticism about race and soundness of health is leading? The only people who are safe are those who are completely inconspicuous.’
‘Another problem is that most people are not aware of how dangerous the new legislation is,’ added Olderog. ‘Anyone who’s healthy and of pure blood in line with the new law, and who isn’t interested in politics, will see only the sunny side and be bewitched by the cult of the Führer. But the more people cheer without really seeing, the further the Nazis will go. And we want to protect our comrades and all those considered weak and worthless by the regime. Just like you with your son. We have the same aim.’
‘I’ll help you,’ said Richard, ‘but I don’t want my name to be associated with the ISK. Precisely because I must protect my family and not put them at risk.’
‘That goes without saying,’ promised Schär. ‘You’ll be at your most useful to us if nobody knows that we’re working together. That’s why I asked you to park your car a couple of streets away. If anyone asks, this meeting never happened.’ He held out his hand in farewell. While his handshake was firm and confident, Richard’s response was hesitant at first. His heart told him he was doing the right thing, but a warning had sounded in his head. He was on a tightrope here and needed to be very careful.
Chapter 28
The task turned out to be far easier than Richard had expected. The men concerned contacted him by telephone, and he would quite openly ask them to come during his consulting hours. For a year now his work had required him to call in outpatients himself and personally assess them. Nobody was going to notice a couple of favourable statements here and there, especially as they had no impact on expenditure.
He had agonised about confiding in Paula, but didn’t want to worry her, especially as she had been so low since Leonie had left for Switzerland. In the end, he kept to his resolution never to have secrets from his wife.
To his amazement, Paula showed no concern and was actually very proud of him for doing it.
‘There’d be far less suffering if we had more doctors like you. And what’s the worst that can happen? Someone could say you’ve made one wrong assessment and your reputation gets a bit of a dent? Doctors are allowed to make mistakes; it’s not forbidden, and nobody will say you’ve done it on purpose. I only wish I could do more myself.’
‘You’re already doing so much by being there for our children,’ replied Richard. ‘Without you, Georg would never have made the progress he has.’ This wasn’t just a compliment but the truth. Paula practised with Georg for several hours a day. He was learning how to do phonetic voice exercises while placing his fingers close to the larynx so he could feel the vocal cords vibrate, something which happened only when the sound was correctly produced. And so strong was the bond between the twins that his sister was almost always at his side, even though she could have chosen to play instead. Emilia took care to correct her brother if his speech wasn’t clear enough and had even invented her own sign to tell him so. The desire not to fall behind his sister spurred Georg on more than any of his parents’ pleas and exhortations. However, it was a daily struggle and there were often tears of frustration when Georg didn’t want to carry on because it was so tiring for him and he wanted to rely on signing instead. Paula was always mindful of Alfred Schär’s advice to insist on the best from her son, although it hurt sometimes to demand so much of him. And so she practised patiently with hi
m while trying to maintain a balance between strictness and kindness, sometimes pushing herself to the limit. But all of that was forgotten when Georg’s speech continued to improve and he could successfully sound out new and difficult words. He made good progress with lip-reading too. Paula practised with him, talking to him without signing so that he could read it only by watching her lips, then he had to repeat it back to her using sign language. What she had to watch out for was his sister standing behind her and secretly showing him the signs. The first time she caught Emilia doing this, both the children had burst out laughing and couldn’t see anything wrong in what they were doing.
‘Emilia, you’re not helping Georg by doing that.’ Paula managed to sound reproving while concealing her own amusement.
In August the twins were excited to be looking after Rudi, the dachshund, for a few days while Fritz and his family went to Berlin to enjoy the Olympic Games, something they wouldn’t have missed for anything. For Georg, any time spent with Rudi was a big incentive to improve his speech because the dachsie was really stubborn. He did what he was told only if the instructions sounded completely familiar to him; otherwise, he would just stand there, wagging his tail and gazing up at him with that trusting dachshund face.
The evening before Fritz was due to collect him, Georg asked his father a question with the most perfect pronunciation. ‘Papa, can we have a dog too?’
Richard was sure Georg had been practising this sentence with his sister for ages. The children had worked out a long time ago that if Georg spoke clearly and well, there were always rewards. But Richard wasn’t to be persuaded on this one. ‘You’re both too young for that. Maybe when you start school.’
They were bitterly disappointed, and Richard was sure he hadn’t heard the last of this one.
A Fight in Silence Page 18
