‘Why would Hitler give them work when he hates them so?’ Elsa’s younger sister, Frieda, had asked innocently. Her question went unanswered. Rumours of labour camps were circling, but no one knew for sure. Some didn’t care what happened to the Jews and those who did could not voice their concerns publicly.
It was around this time that Elsa had noticed some neighbours were shopping for large quantities of food... far larger than the elderly couple needed. She had understood what this meant and immediately offered to help. Soon she was helping to supply a young Jewish family, hidden in their cellar, with food. It lasted ten months until a sudden night raid took place and they were dragged away.
Otto, her brother, was called up and killed in battle five months later in May 1941. His death was witnessed, but his bloodied body was ultimately unrecoverable so they had no body or grave to mourn over. By the end of that year, Germany had unwisely declared war on the USA and the USSR, making enemies of both. Her father’s heart and age had initially prevented his conscription, but by 1944 the German forces were so overstretched that even men over sixty were needed. German forces were being pushed back on all sides and a diseased heart no longer mattered to the Reich. Her father was called up to fight and did not last long.
The future was bleak and in their time of need the Führer was nowhere to be seen. Elsa’s awakening had begun on the night the synagogue had been burned, but it had been a painfully slow journey to get to the point she was at now. Today, she saw how lies had been taught as truth, the meaning of words had been changed, division had been actively promoted, and truth and thought had been silenced.
As the Third Reich struggled to survive, so did her acceptance of its rhetoric. Yet, every choice she’d made, every utterance, every answer she gave could be used as ammunition to condemn her. Seed by seed, bit by bit, she had learned to trust no one. German could turn on German and there were enemies all around. This was not the life she had been promised when Hitler had first come to power, yet in reality it had been a life she had been living for over a decade.
She turned away from the synagogue and entered the nearby grocer’s shop. The shelves were poorly stocked and many of the potatoes appeared to have blight. They would have to do. She had her family to feed.
‘How is your grandfather?’ asked Herr Weber.
‘As cranky as ever,’ replied Elsa, searching her purse for some coins.
The shopkeeper showed her two chicken legs, wrapped them in brown paper, and slid them across the counter with a wink. ‘From my daughter’s farm. Give this to your mother for putting up with him.’
Elsa smiled and covered the package with her hand, closing her eyes to savour the moment. It had been several weeks — or was it months now? — since they had eaten fresh chicken.
‘Take care of yourself, Elsa,’ the shopkeeper whispered kindly. She opened her eyes to find him looking at her with tears in his eyes. The hairs prickled on her arms. ‘The Russians are getting closer.’
‘I know.’
‘You and your family should go back west.’
‘I have tried to persuade them, but Grandfather is old.’
‘The Russians want revenge. I told my daughter this. I want her to go west too.’
Elsa jerked her head in understanding. For him to advise his daughter to abandon their farm showed the strength of his fear. She slipped the gift into her basket. Every German civilian was terrified of the Red Army — and with good cause.
‘I’d better go.’ She indicated her basket. ‘Thank you for this. My mother will be so grateful.’
‘Will you take this to Pastor Bähr on your way home? His health is not good these days.’
He handed over a small package of food and Elsa gladly took it. She liked the pastor of the Confessing Church, a Protestantmovement that had grown as a result of Hitler’s earlier attempts to unify and control the Christian churches under a pro-Nazi banner. The religious leaders now walked the tightrope of compromising with the state to stay out of trouble yet still trying to follow the word of God. It was an uncomfortable and difficult task. Ultimately, the Confessing Church still believed in obedience to God rather than the Führer, which was why Elsa attended the church every week and had come to know the pastor well. She had silently witnessed his health failing over the past few months and was glad to help now.
She crossed the road, darting between army cars and civilians’ horse-drawn carriages. The pastor’s house was modest and not far away. He greeted her at the door, but did not invite her in. In recent months the pastor had stopped inviting visitors inside his home. ‘At my time of life,’ he had told his congregation, ‘I prefer to keep my home life separate and from now on will receive any visits in the church.’ The congregation readily accepted this. The pastor was ageing and, they whispered knowingly, an elderly man was not as houseproud as a loyal homemaking wife. Today his breath audibly rasped and he looked worryingly pale.
‘Will I see you at church, Elsa?’ he asked as he took the package from her outstretched hands.
She hesitated before replying. She could promise little in these uncertain times.
He seemed to understand. ‘The town is filling up more and more with refugees fleeing west. They will not stay here long, I think. Will you leave too? You came from Bremen, didn’t you?’
‘Yes. If I can persuade my family to leave, we will go to Bremen. I have an aunt there who we could stay with. We visited her many times when I was a child.’
His pale eyes studied her as if he was wrestling with something on his mind.
‘What is it?’ she asked. ‘Is there anything I can do to help? If you don’t mind me saying, you don’t look well.’
‘I’m not well. I don’t have long to live.’ He waved her concerns away. ‘My doctor told me this six months ago. I have accepted it now.’
The news did not shock her, but his admission did. Although he helped many of his church members and had supported the community for years, the pastor was a very private man and never shared his own misfortunes.
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ said Elsa, feeling the words were inadequate at such terrible news.
He smiled his usual smile, but this time it did not reach his eyes. ‘One day I may take you up on your offer of help, Elsa.’
