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Tomorrow Belongs to Who?
2 reviewsBrief scenes of an historical setting, with rewrites of our Heroines (Germany 1932-1945).
1Ambiance
Tomorrow Belongs to Who?
By Dr. T
Brief scenes of an historical setting, with rewrites of our Heroines (Germany 1932-1945).
Obviously a work of fanfiction; no claims are made on the original characters. The title is a reference to a song from the musical ‘Cabaret.’
August, 1932 – Rasental (lawn dale), a small suburb of Nuremberg. The attic/studio in the Farhbahn household.
Jana Farhbahn studied her friend over her easel as she sat, pretending to read. Finally sighing, Jana said, “You haven’t turned the page in ages. Is something wrong with it, or with you?”
Daria looked up, and Jana was startled to see how sad her partner looked. “What’s wrong?”
“Judith is leaving.”
Jana frowned. “Leaving what, not to mention why?”
Daria looked slightly surprised. “You’re surprised the Lipchitz family has sold the factory and are leaving the country?”
“It’s the only factory in town or even nearby that hasn’t either closed down or drastically cut workers’ hours,” Jana pointed out. “So why?”
Glaring, Daria placed the tips of two fingers under her nose. Jana got the allusion to a toothbrush mustache immediately. “But they’re not in power! Not to mention….”
“Jana!” Daria snapped before again lowering her voice, “they are now the largest party in the Reichstag. The Communists gained seats as well.” The latest election had just finished just over a week before. Daria lowered her voice even more. “If the Communists take over, well, look at what happened to capitalists like Herr Lipchitz in Russia, and if the Nazis take over, well, they are the leading Jewish family in the area.”
“I know they talk a lot about that, but do you really….”
“Jana, your family is involved in the arts. Thankfully, only Penelope is involved with the Communists, but nearly everyone else is at least left-leaning, if not Social Democrats. You should hear some of the people Father works with, or the ones Mother associates with in her work for the town. Remember, Nuremberg isn’t that far away, and not only do the Nazis love the town, that’s where Julius Streicher works out of, with that horrid paper.”
“’Der Stürmer’,” Jana nearly spat.
“If we were Jewish, I’d want out, too,” Daria stated. “Remember when Sandra started that rumor?”
“Good thing you quashed that quickly,” Jana had to agree; she had tried to forget the incident when Sandra, who saw herself as a rival to Daria’s popular sister Liesl, had spread the rumor that the Morgendorffers were Jewish.
“Granted, Morgendorffer isn’t a common name, but being able to point to a Lutheran martyred in Alsace back in the mid-1500s did help scratch that rumor.” Daria suddenly smirked. “On the other hand, when I dug into our genealogy and not only discovered that but the fact that one of his grandsons converted to Catholicism and moved to Nuremberg to start our branch really helped with Grandmother.”
“The Baroness?” Jana asked, referring to Daria’s maternal grandmother. “I admit, I thought your down mood was because of her visit.”
“No, normally I’d be happy she was gone, not depressed,” Daria pointed out. “Last New Year’s, we had a long talk about genealogy and such. She was much more knowledgeable about Eugenics than I would have thought, and more surprisingly, she agreed with most of my positions, even if we came to them from very different starting points.”
“I seem to remember you mentioning that,” Jana agreed. Eugenics was another uncomfortable topic that Jana was trying to ignore; she had to admit, these days there were more and more of such topics, and it was getting impossible for her to pretend those topics wouldn’t affect her, or at least those near her.
“She was ill just after Easter, and that got her thinking. Now remember, she still has Dowager rights to the Baron’s estates, but that third cousin of mine inherited the title. However, she owns that town house in Nuremberg and that estate south of the city, not to mention a fair amount of other wealth and even property.”
Jana nodded. “You always thought your Aunt Margarita would inherit most of it, or maybe her daughter.”
“That’s what we all thought,” Daria agreed. “Assuming nothing changes, instead the townhouse and most of the furnishings will be sold off and the money split between Mother and my two aunts when Grandmother passes. In turns out that Aunt Amelia’s apartment in Munich actually belongs to Grandmother. She was given that outright. Mother was given some of Grandmother’s jewelry that Grandmother inherited from her family, and will inherit most of the rest of that lot. Most of the jewelry that Grandfather gave her will go to Aunt Margarita. The rest, she gave to my sister. My cousin will inherit her estate, although Aunt Margarita will have a life tenancy.”
“Your cousin might not mind, but I bet her husband will.”
“Probably, especially since it’s now basically entailed it their children.”
“So, do you get anything or does only Liesl come out ahead, as usual?”
“Under the will? Any other wealth will be divided five ways, one share for each daughter, one share for my cousin Greta, and my sister and split a share.”
“Well, at least it’s something.”
Daria smirked. “I got some other things now.”
Jana’s eyebrow went up in surprise. “Like what?”
“There’s a small cottage and allotment connected to the estate; she gave that to me outright. At least as long as Grandmother is alive, the estate people will keep up the cottage and its garden for me.”
“Probably better in the long run than jewelry,” Jana admitted, impressed.
“Another thing she owns is a block of flats, near the Polytechnic.”
“She’s giving you an apartment block?” Jana demanded, stunned.
“No, she’s going to give me a five-year lease on an apartment, when one comes up this spring, and pay for mt schooling, assuming I get in.”
“You know you’ll get in,” Jana scolded. “So, you won’t have to find stereotypical cheap student lodgings. Assuming I get into the Art Institute, would you like a roommate?”
“Your parents are graduates, your mother’s family helped found it, and you’re a great artist. You’ve even exhibited there already. You’re an even surer bet than I am, but no, I won’t have a roommate.”
While slightly unexpected, the directness was even more startling. Jana would have been really hurt if Daria hadn’t added, “It will be a two-bedroom flat, so you going to be my flat mate, not my roommate.”
“Sometimes I hate you.”
“Don’t be mean to your future landlady,” Daria teased.
“One more year to go,” Jana stated. “We have lots to look forward to.”
Thinking back to Jodie and Germany’s current political situation, Daria wasn’t nearly as optimistic.
**
August 30, 1933, a small two-bedroom flat in Nuremberg.
Jana and Daria entered their apartment wearily, careful not to drop the viola cases they were carrying. The pair set them down near the door, where Daria kicked off her shoes, and the pair collapsed on the sofa. The rest of the area had a small window with comfortable if worn chairs on either side of the window with the sofa facing it. Behind them, there was a desk and chair, a table with the chairs where they ate, and a radio.
“How the hell did we get into a day like today?” Jana complained tiredly as she struggled to toe off a shoe. It was nearly 11:00 pm, and neither had the energy to even turn on a light, as there was just enough coming from the brightly lit street for them not to stumble about.
“A combination of factors that all worked against us.”
Jana managed to kick the other shoe and sighed in relief. “At least it’s over.”
“For us; the town is still crazy.”
“Oh, yeah, the Nazis are conferencing for another few days. Still, granted you agreed to play in the civic orchestra to keep your mother happy….”
“’Don’t waste all that money we spent on lessons and a viola’,” Daria sniped. “Even though she forced me into it years ago. And you voluntarily joined me, both back in school and last month when we joined here.”
“Okay, those were my mistakes, but still….”
“The Nazis are at least temporarily dominate if not in control,” Daria reminder her friend. “Hitler is in charge of the day-to-day government, other political parties are banned, the Jews are being kicked out of the civil service, not to mention….” Daria’s voice broke a bit as she finished with, “all the book burnings.”
“At least you have most of ours hidden away in the attic of your cottage,” Jana reminded her friend. They had each sacrificed a few books to make certain their rooms hadn’t been ‘searched,’ i.e. trashed. “I wish I knew why they were so insistent, but at least you had us ready.”
“I thought you knew who fingered us,” Daria replied, slightly surprised. “Ruttheimer.”
“Karl? That puke!” Jana frowned. “How do you know?”
“I didn’t realize you didn’t see him. He was out by the stairway, in an SS uniform.”
“A what?”
Daria rolled her eyes, making Jana frown. “At least you know the S.A., right?”
“Even Sandra never missed the Storm Troopers, even if was to complain about their brown uniforms.”
“You’ve seen the ones in the black uniforms?”
“Of course; there aren’t many of them. I thought they were like the officer corps now or something.”
Daria shook her head. “No, Goering and some guy called Himmler separated out an elite group from the S.A. to act as bodyguards and such. They are sort of an elite while the S.A. are the street thugs.”
“And Karl is somehow a member of an elite? I didn’t think even the Nazis would stoop that low.”
Daria shrugged. “His father is a long-term supporter and is rich.”
“Can we blame him for having to play three two and a half hour concerts in one day?” One had been late morning, the second mid-afternoon, and the last had just concluded half an hour before. That was a lot of performing, especially for some of the brass players, considering the Nazi preferences in music.
“No, that was just the city and orchestra’s management sucking up to the people who can either shut us down or give us more money.” The 5th Nazi Party Conference, the first since 1929, was being held in Nuremberg August 30-September 3.
After a few moments of silence, Jana asked, “Daria…things are going to keep getting worse before there’s any chance of them getting better, right?”
“On the whole, I am afraid you’re right,” Daria had to agree.
“What do you think will happen?”
“To who?”
“To the country…. To our families…not to mention to us.”
Daria shrugged. “Who can tell? The Nazis seem divided, other than in their devotion to Hitler, with Strasser on the left and the S.A. types on the right. Maybe they’ll fall apart, but right now the Party is riding high. Will they succeed in fully suppressing the Communists, Social Democrats, and everyone else, or will there be an open revolt?”
“Even more blood in the streets….” Jana shuddered.
“I know.” Daria sighed. “I don’t think much of Hindenburg, but I wish he were younger, or at least healthier.”
“I know,” Jane echoed, “Sometimes I think that old man is the only thing keeping us from total chaos, as opposed to the relative chaos.”
“Our parents should be ok.” Daria gave her friend a concerned look. “Liesl will be fine, but I worry about your brothers and older sister.”
“With her work for the Communists, I’m worried about Penelope as well,” Jana agreed. “Why worry about the two idiots.” She smirked. “I could see if it was just Tristen….”
“Jana!” Daria snapped. “Can you really imagine either of your brothers in the army if they bring back conscription?”
“Those two? Hell no, but having a conscript army is illegal!”
“No, it’s against a treaty that the current government doesn’t feel obligated to follow,” Daria retorted. “We’ll likely leave the League of Nations sooner or later, and then really start spending on the military again.”
“With what money? The Government is practically broke!”
“They’ll borrow, and when it gets too bad…the French won’t want to fight again unless we attack them or Belgium again, and I don’t think we would problems with taking Austria or even Czechoslovakia or Poland if the military has a few years to build.” Daria shook her head. “Read Hitler’s book; that’s his plan – build the army back, attack to the east.”
“It’s too late and I’m too tired to get depressed, so change the subject,” Jana demanded.
“Since you brought him up, have Tristen and friends managed the transition from jazz band to old fashioned dance band?” Seeing the look on her friend’s face, Daria could only ask, “What’s happened?”
“The S.A. learned that Max is a quarter Gypsy. Tristen tried to protect him, but the other two walked out, and won’t come back. Max has apparently left the area. Tristen is playing beer halls by himself, and hates it, but just says, ‘music is music,’ like he’s trying to convince himself.”
Daria sighed. She steeled herself and forced herself to stand. “Let’s get some sleep.”
**
September 3, 1934, the small two bedroom flat in Nuremberg. Jana is sprawled on the sofa, clinging to Daria and crying. Outside, a band playing a military march is passing by. Daria is trying to comfort Jana.
“Why?” Jana demanded, not for the first time.
“The Nazis just massacred a number of their own, not to mention other political enemies,” Daria said gently, referred to the so-called ‘Night of the Long Knives’ of June 30th. “They’ve been sending other political opponents to that camp at Dachau for about a year and half. We knew Penelope was under threat….”
“But they shot her!”
Daria hugged her friend more tightly. There had been rumors of deaths at the camp as well as confirmed deaths, but this was the first time, so far as Daria knew, that someone had been acknowledged as being deliberately killed, although at least some of the ‘suicides’ and other deaths were more than suspicious. On the other hand, she could believe that Penelope had been foolish enough to attack the guards taking her into the camp.
The passing band was at its loudest as it went right past their open window. Jana sat up and spat, “And now those murderers are coming into town to celebrate Hindenburg’s death and that charlatan’s taking complete power.” The next Party Conference would start on the 5th and the faithful and curious were quickly gathering in town.
Daria took her friend firmly by the shoulders and glared into her eyes. The look was so intense that Jana was startled into fully paying attention despite her anger and grief. “I understand why you feel this way, but unless you want the same thing to happen to you, DO NOT say anything like that ever again outside these walls and even then only to me! Understand?” When Jana did not respond, Daria’s grip tightened and she shook her friend slightly. “I mean it, Jana.” A tear ran down Daria’s face. “I couldn’t face this world if the same thing happened to you.”
Jana hugged her companion. “I couldn’t stand it if something happened to you.” She kissed Daria’s cheek. “Thank you for being here for me,” she whispered in Daria’s ear as they hugged tightly.
Embarrassed, Daria could only say, “Thank you,” as she returned the hug. Then she teased, “Just remember, this in Nuremberg in 1934, not Berlin six years ago.”
“I love you in many ways, but as cute as you are, I still prefer boys,” Jana teased back. “So do you.”
Blushing from being called ‘cute’ (which had been Jana’s intention, as she tried to change the mood), Daria still reminded her friend, “Yes, we ‘prefer’ boys.” The two had, after all, experimented more than once in the past.
“Daria,” Jana said quietly, “I don’t want to revisit the past, but could you hold me tonight?”
“Of course.”
**
September 30, 1938 – a cottage on an estate outside of Nuremburg.
The cottage is a modest but modernized one – a large front room, a modest bedroom and an even smaller one, a small bathroom, and a kitchen. The smaller bedroom has the only bed; the larger one is used as a painting studio. It is filled with finished to partially started landscapes and a few slightly kitschy village scenes, all in styles officially approved by the Party. Still, all of the finished paintings and some of the others all have tags indicating they have already been sold.
The main room has a writing desk with a typewriter and writing supplies, and nearby is a smaller roll-top desk overflowing with paper – envelopes, receipts, (paid) bills, etc. There is also a table and two chairs the two women living there eat at, the two easy chairs and sofa from the Munich apartment, and their radio, along with some bookshelves. The entrance to the attic is well-concealed. The walls of all the rooms are surprisingly bare – no paintings, posters, and just one hanging photo. The only other photo is one in the bedroom, of the two women when they left school.
On one side of the small fireplace, there is that only hanging photo – the now-almost obligatory one of Hitler, below it is a bookstand with a copy of ‘Mein Kampf.’ Few would notice that these were really only visible from that side of the room, a side with only a window and bookcases.
The pair were seated next to each other on the sofa, Daria rather straight and stoical, Jana with her elbows on her knees and her face in her hands. Only Daria’s hand on Jana’s back expresses any emotion on her part.
“Those cowardly bastards,” Jana muttered. “They had the chance to stop the madness, and instead they’ve given in.”
“They have,” Daria agreed. Unlike Jana, Daria had held little confidence that the French and British would actually stand up to Hitler during their meeting in nearby Munich over the previous few days. She also entertained no hope that Mussolini was anything but Hitler’s ally, as he had been for the previous few years. The Fascist leader’s opposition to Hitler had faded since 1934, and the Italians had not prevented or even protested the takeover of Austria earlier this year.
“How long before Czechoslovakia is gone, do you think?”
“Not right away, but if it lasts a year, I’ll be shocked.”
“And then Poland?”
Daria nodded, “Yes, and then the big one against the Soviets. The French and British will not want any part of any of that if they aren’t somehow forced to involved before then. And since they wouldn’t fight for Austria or now, I don’t see them being upset about Czechoslovakia going under or our taking the Polish Corridor and Danzig.”
Jana sighed. “I guess not. How about the Italians?”
“I would imagine they’ll be intriguing in the Balkans. They’re already putting pressure on Albania and they want chunks of Yugoslavia.” She shrugged slightly. “Within two years, it’ll be the Great War all over again.”
“Right down to the rationing,” Jana complained.
“Like I said, if we’re lucky, the French and British will stay out of things.” Daria pointed out, “If they do, no blockade, so things wouldn’t be as bad.”
Jana sat up and made a face. “So we have to hope the cowards stay cowards?”
“As much as we hate what’s going on, I still think the Communists would be worse.”
While not as certain of that as her friend, Jana couldn’t bring herself to disagree. After a few moments of silence, though, she thought of something. “If there is a real war, Tristen, and Thomas for that matter, would likely be called up.”
Jana’s brother, like most eligible German men, was now at least in the reserves. Thomas’ position in their lives was a bit more difficult to define these days – he had had more than casual relationships with both women while they were all at university, but he was currently in a clandestine relationship with Tristen – and that relationship would be punished very harshly by the current regime.
“True, along with your other brother,” Daria agreed. She had had a crush on the older Tristen in school, and Thomas had in fact taken first Jana’s and then Daria’s virginities their second year at the university before then hooking up with Tristen. Despite these complications, the two women still considered him a friend. “I think we need to talk to them, and see if they want some cover – we might need some as well.” After the fallout with Thomas, the two had decided to give up on men – however the regime was putting pressure on women like them to marry and have children ‘for the nation’ – especially the ‘children for the nation’ part. Lacking children when (at least apparently) trying to have them was a misfortune—not even trying was becoming akin to suspect.
**
September 4, 1939
Jana entered the cottage and was slightly surprised to see Daria on the sofa, a damp cloth over her eyes and forehead. “Headache?” she suggested. Their (at least on paper) husbands, along with a number of other men (including Greta’s husband Hans) had just left on various trains to formally join their called-up reserve units. Jana had gone with her ‘husband’ (a junior officer) and older brother (still a private after two years in the reserves and technically married to Daria) off. Jana didn’t think Daria would have been crying, but it was possible.
“Yes,” Daria agreed. “Greta officially appointed me the estate manager now that Hans is gone. I spent the morning going over the books, and they are a mess.” She sighed. “Fortunately, even if the estate owes a lot, a lot more is owed. On the other hand, Greta has about nine hundred marks in cash available, but she shouldn’t have to pay for anything until mid-month.”
“Wow, if that’s her cash reserve, I guess we aren’t poor,” Jana joked.
“Here,” Daria replied, sitting up and handing Jana an opened envelope. Seeing Jana’s inquiring look, Daria explained, “It’s a check for your last set of paintings. Go into town tomorrow and cash it.”
“Cash it? Or deposit it?”
“I’d cash it and buy as many art supplies as you can before they start disappearing,” Daria retorted. “You know better than I do what you can make and what you’ll have to pay for.”
She sighed. “It’s a good thing I can work on the estate, I don’t think my neutral writing will sell now that the war’s started.”
“You’ve got money in three banks, a horde of gold that would make some dragons envious, and a bunch of other valuables,” Jana pointed out. “What’s more, you’ve helped me imitate you, so I may not have a horde but I do have reserves built up. Granted, things might get tough, but between what we have, what we can grow, and now your managing the estate, we’ll at least do better than most.”
“Let’s hope so.” Jana walked over and the still-seated Daria put her arm around Jana’s waist. The two hugged like that for some time, both fearful for the future.
**
Late June, 1945
The manager’s office of the estate, a somewhat shabby but still ornate room. Daria, dressed in a very plain outfit of drab outfit of utilitarian fabrics – blouse, long skirt, socks, and shoes – is seated behind the desk. Three American soldiers – a colonel, a captain, and a sergeant – are seated in front of it.
“So, that’s our final offer,” the Colonel stated. He was glad the estate manager was fluent in English, if surprised that she was a tougher negotiator than any of the other Germans he had come across. While wary, she was not afraid of him, was sure of her few remaining rights, and knew her business.
Daria sighed. “No offense, but you are not giving us much of a choice. Could you not give some sort of assurances against…objects disappearing or being damaged?”
The three Americans grimaced, each knowing that theft was indeed more than possible. Damage to furnishings was at least as likely. “Unfortunately, no,” the Colonel answered. “However, if one more step is satisfactory, we can wait another eight days before we start to move in. That would give the remaining estate workers time to shift the most valuable things from here to the dower house or elsewhere.”
“That would be a help,” Daria agreed. “What is this final step?”
“Answers about yourself, Frau Hoffman, and Frau Schaefer and your connections.”
“As in ‘how Nazi were we’?”
He ignored the sarcasm in her tone. “To be frank, yes. As well as any others you may be closely associated with.”
“As far as I know, none of the workers or their spouses on the estate had anything directly connected to the Nazis. Obviously, I cannot say anything about their private opinions or say anything about their relations – I never heard of any relatives who were actual party members but it is certainly possible. While several of them have, or had, sons in the military, I do not believe any were in the SS or similar groups. I have the estate records here, and the Sargent can copy down their information before you leave. That includes the information on their sons in the military – I have those in case I needed to notify them of any problems with their parents.” The three nodded.
“Frau Schaefer is both my best friend of some two decades standing and my sister-in-law. Her older sister was shot by the Nazis in 1934. Neither of us joined any Nazi organization – although she is an artist and I made my living before the War as writer, we did not join any Party-sponsored group. Her oldest sister, who married and divorced twice, had five children. Neither she nor her children joined the Party, nor did the ex-husbands. One of the ex-husbands died on the Eastern Front, one son died in North Africa. I believe the other three are still alive and were enlisted men in the regular army. Both of Frau Schaefer’s brothers were also drafted into the regular army. Her oldest brother died during the invasion of Greece. Her older brother, my husband, died in Italy. Neither of her parents have any Nazi associations that I know of.” Daria then gave the Americans the names and home addresses of Jana’s relatives. “Her father-in-law however is a rather important financier in Munich. While not a Nazi supporter, I would be very surprised if he avoided dealings with the Party once they ran the government.” Daria’s face showed a trace of indignation. “Since his son’s death, neither he nor his family have been in contact. Here is one of his business cards; his other addresses are on the back. I hope at least one of them is still habitable.” The three Americans were again impressed by this woman’s preparedness, and slightly irritated by her (understandably) repeated references to the large-scale destruction the Allies had caused throughout Germany.
“Frau Hoffman is my first cousin. Her mother, who died in a bombing of Munich in late 1943, was the oldest of three sisters. My mother is the middle sister. My Aunt Amelia, who never married, was killed in the same bombing as my Aunt Margarita. Neither joined any Nazi organizations. My father is the vice president of the Bank of Rasental, that’s a small town closer to Nuremberg than it is to here or Munich, and his only sibling was a brother killed in the first war. All my grandparents have passed. My mother worked in the town civil service until dismissed by the Nazis in 1937, along with most other women holding similar positions. She is still head of the local Red Cross. It is possible, even likely, that my father, mother, and Aunt Margarita had business and social contacts with local Nazi officials, due to their social positions, or my father’s business position, but never direct ties.” Again, Daria supplied names and addresses.
“I see.” The Colonel, from Alabama, knew quite well how that worked – he would never join the KKK himself, but he knew plenty of people (including some relatives) who were either members or at least had social contact with those who were members, even if they disagreed with the Klan rhetoric. Some contact with Nazis was almost unavoidable for many who refused actual Nazi organizations or even beliefs.
“As for my cousin…. I must point out that the estate was owned by our grandmother. She left it to my cousin, and it is entailed to her son Fritz, who is eight. Her husband, although he acted as the estate manager before I took over when the war started, had no ownership rights at all, and even then most of the work was done by others before I took over.”
“I take it he has, or had, more…direct ties with the Nazis?”
“Yes. First of all, he also died on the Eastern Front, at Stalingrad. At the time, his rank in the SS was equivalent to that of your rank of colonel. He joined the Party right before Hitler came to power. I do not recall if it was in December, 1932, or January, 1933, but he saw which way the political tide was shifting and was happy to swim with that tide. Between Hitler’s appointment as Chancellor and 1938, he was mostly working as a Party official in Nuremburg itself. I have no idea what, if anything, he did, as he never talked about it when I was present. My cousin may of course have some idea.” She slid a piece of paper over. “That is the detailed information on him, including his identification numbers and Party number.”
“Thank you. We will of course have to speak with your cousin.”
“Of course. My sister-in-law and I have lived here since the summer of 1936. I never saw my cousin’s husband bring any of his Nazi cronies to the estate, at least not in uniform, and was certainly never introduced to any. My cousin may have met them on her infrequent trips to Nuremburg or Munich.”
“Naturally.”
“I believe that leaves my sister, Liesl, unless there is someone else you feel the necessity of inquiring about?”
“If you have information on any our people might want or need to know about, that would be appreciated, but if you could fill us in on your sister?” The Colonel didn’t know about a number of these people, but Frau Farbahn seemed to be the most constructively helpful German he had examined so far as well as not overly-defensive, evasive, or vindictively informative.
“I am certain your people are intensively making inquiries in Nuremburg. Both my sister-in-law and I studied there after leaving school. The worst you will find out is that in 1933, we were members of the civic orchestra, and therefore had to play several concerts at that year’s Party rally. We resigned after that season. I believe you would find less directly about my sister. Indirectly, she had three admirers through her school days and that continued until they all joined the military in 1935, two entered the army, and the third the Luftwaffe. I believe they all achieved non-commissioned rank; I do not know anything further about them, but while I do not know if any of the three were ardent nazis – I do not recall hearing about any of them actually joining the Party – they were rather vocally pro-Nazi in school. They were likely just riding the pro-Nazi feelings of post-1933.”
“Go on.”
“Our maternal grandmother was still alive until 1937. As the daughter of a count and the widow of a baron, she had entrée into many of the remaining traditional social circles in both Nuremburg and especially Munich. Grandmother disapproved of the Nazis, almost more because most lacked social distinction than all of their attitudes. Therefore, she was happy to sponsor my sister once her grandson-in-law associated with the Nazis. My sister was…is the expression ‘social butterfly’ correct?”
“It sounds like it.”
“After my grandmother died, many of those invitations dried up, and she frequented some of the equivalent Nazi social events, so if someone were to go through the society pages of the period, her name might be mentioned. When she married in 1938, however, it was to a fighter pilot in the Luftwaffe, Hans Hagen. He was shot down and killed in July of 1944. She and her daughter are living with my parents.”
“I see. Anything else?”
Daria paused, and then asked, “Yes.” She swallowed nervously. “Tell me, are the stories emerging about…about those…camps true?”
The Colonel gestured to the Captain. “I’ve been to three of those places, not to mention a few factories run by…subcontractors to those camps for various industries. I don’t know what you’ve heard or read, but while there was no…cannibalism or….” He paused in thought. “What was that exaggeration that was spread in the last war?”
“Soap rendered out of human bodies instead of horses,” the Colonel supplied.
“Right, short of that, anything you heard is likely understating the horrors.” He shuddered, to the surprise of the others. “I saw hundreds of walking corpses, most of whom died within a few days despite finally being fed. I saw a few thousand corpses, mounds of gold teeth, eyeglasses, and more. If what a colleague of mine told me is true – he inspected a camp in Poland to compare to what we found – it was even worse there.”
“I see. Tell me, is anyone inquiring into the Ruttheimer family?”
The two officers exchanged looks and shrugged. “Not to our knowledge, but one thing we are looking for are leads to investigate.”
Daria nodded. “Karl Senior lived just outside of Rasental although he also owned a townhouse – might still if they are still standing. He owns a large insurance company, headquartered in Nuremburg. He financed that disgrace of a newspaper, ‘Der Stürmer’.” That got the Americans’ attention – they were to look for anyone with links to that notorious publication. “He served with Streicher in the last war, and stayed friends with him. I don’t know if he ever formally joined the Party, but was always a vocal supporter in town. His son, Kark Junior, was in my year of school, and he was the leading antisemite in our school. Somehow, he was allowed to join the SS while we were in our last year. I don’t know where he ended the war, but he worked at Dachau after he left University and I heard he transferred to set up a camp called Ravensbrück when it started in 1939. I would imagine both are under investigation.”
“Do you know Ravensbrück?” the Colonel asked the Captain.
The Captain shook his head, but consulted a lift in his notebook. “It was a women’s camp, just outside Berlin.”
Daria gave them one last set of addresses. “There are, or were, the family addresses for their townhouse in Rasental and their estate just outside of town.”
“You should hear from us in two days,” the Colonel said, standing. With that, they took their leave.
As they were driving away, the Colonel asked, “Comments?”
“If she was holding back anything important, she’s likely too cagy to be caught,” the Captain answered.
“I agree,” the Sargent stated, “but of all the Germans I’ve interviewed, she seemed the most straightforward; most have been at least slightly afraid of us, or arrogant or both.”
“True,” the Captain agreed.
“She didn’t bat an eye at my name,” the Jewish Sargent commented. “Or at our German.” Both the Sargent and Captain were fluent, while the Colonel did not really know the language well at all.
“Do you both agree I should okay the deal, pending any further information?”
The Sargent nodded, while the Captain went further. “We can commandeer any place we want, but we’ve been told to try and strike reasonable deals. She drove a decent bargain, and it’s a great location to house people to administrate the area.”
“You want them to welcome us, instead of put up with us?” the Sargent asked.
“How?”
“Well, we’re getting good supplies now. I know of a warehouse full of field rations we likely won’t need. Distributing some to the folks we make these deals with would certainly make their lives better. We all know it’s not great food, but better than what they’re getting.”
“Win their hearts and minds through their stomachs?” the Captain mused. “Why not?”
“I’ll bring it up when I meet the general tonight.”
Two mornings later, Daria and Jana finished locking the cellar of the dower house, much to Greta’s displeasure. That cellar had three weeks’ worth of US military c-rations for each person on the estate. Daria was going to be sure each person got their day’s ration, rather than taking more than they were rationed. There was a group of two dozen US soldiers stationed around the estate, putting up a wire fence to act as a parameter marking out what would be a US facility in many senses within a few days.
Daria and Jana carried their rations back to their cottage. “What do we have for lunch?” Jana asked as they opened the day’s rations and separated out the three meals. Viewing the mid-day’s offering, she stated, “I have…a tin of something simply called canned Swiss and American cheese, and some kind of biscuits?”
“In this case, American for ‘hard tack’ or ‘ship’s biscuits’.”
“Ah, five candies….”
“Caramels,” Daria told her.
“Alright. A sugar cube, a little packet of salt, a packet of four cigarettes, matches, a few sticks of that chewing they seem to like, and a package of lemon flavoring for water.”
“Well,” Daria responded, “mine is almost the same. The tin of cheese says ‘cheese and bacon,’ and I have a different brand of cigarette. My water flavor claims to be ‘grape’.”
“Let’s forgo the flavored water, open a nice bottle of Reisling, and enjoy this.”
“Let’s!”
“May our lives be better!”
Rasental= literally ‘lawn valley’ i.e. dale
Daria’s family
Liesl=Quinn
Margarita=Aunt Rita
Greta=Erin
Hans=Brian
Amelia=Aunt Amy
The Baroness=Grandmother Barksdale
Farhbahn=literally ‘Lane’
Jana=Jane
Tristen=Trent
Penelope=Penny
Sandra=Sandi Griffin
Karl Ruttheimer=Charles/Upchuck
Thomas Shaefer=Tom Sloane
The Lipchitz family=the Landons
By Dr. T
Brief scenes of an historical setting, with rewrites of our Heroines (Germany 1932-1945).
Obviously a work of fanfiction; no claims are made on the original characters. The title is a reference to a song from the musical ‘Cabaret.’
August, 1932 – Rasental (lawn dale), a small suburb of Nuremberg. The attic/studio in the Farhbahn household.
Jana Farhbahn studied her friend over her easel as she sat, pretending to read. Finally sighing, Jana said, “You haven’t turned the page in ages. Is something wrong with it, or with you?”
Daria looked up, and Jana was startled to see how sad her partner looked. “What’s wrong?”
“Judith is leaving.”
Jana frowned. “Leaving what, not to mention why?”
Daria looked slightly surprised. “You’re surprised the Lipchitz family has sold the factory and are leaving the country?”
“It’s the only factory in town or even nearby that hasn’t either closed down or drastically cut workers’ hours,” Jana pointed out. “So why?”
Glaring, Daria placed the tips of two fingers under her nose. Jana got the allusion to a toothbrush mustache immediately. “But they’re not in power! Not to mention….”
“Jana!” Daria snapped before again lowering her voice, “they are now the largest party in the Reichstag. The Communists gained seats as well.” The latest election had just finished just over a week before. Daria lowered her voice even more. “If the Communists take over, well, look at what happened to capitalists like Herr Lipchitz in Russia, and if the Nazis take over, well, they are the leading Jewish family in the area.”
“I know they talk a lot about that, but do you really….”
“Jana, your family is involved in the arts. Thankfully, only Penelope is involved with the Communists, but nearly everyone else is at least left-leaning, if not Social Democrats. You should hear some of the people Father works with, or the ones Mother associates with in her work for the town. Remember, Nuremberg isn’t that far away, and not only do the Nazis love the town, that’s where Julius Streicher works out of, with that horrid paper.”
“’Der Stürmer’,” Jana nearly spat.
“If we were Jewish, I’d want out, too,” Daria stated. “Remember when Sandra started that rumor?”
“Good thing you quashed that quickly,” Jana had to agree; she had tried to forget the incident when Sandra, who saw herself as a rival to Daria’s popular sister Liesl, had spread the rumor that the Morgendorffers were Jewish.
“Granted, Morgendorffer isn’t a common name, but being able to point to a Lutheran martyred in Alsace back in the mid-1500s did help scratch that rumor.” Daria suddenly smirked. “On the other hand, when I dug into our genealogy and not only discovered that but the fact that one of his grandsons converted to Catholicism and moved to Nuremberg to start our branch really helped with Grandmother.”
“The Baroness?” Jana asked, referring to Daria’s maternal grandmother. “I admit, I thought your down mood was because of her visit.”
“No, normally I’d be happy she was gone, not depressed,” Daria pointed out. “Last New Year’s, we had a long talk about genealogy and such. She was much more knowledgeable about Eugenics than I would have thought, and more surprisingly, she agreed with most of my positions, even if we came to them from very different starting points.”
“I seem to remember you mentioning that,” Jana agreed. Eugenics was another uncomfortable topic that Jana was trying to ignore; she had to admit, these days there were more and more of such topics, and it was getting impossible for her to pretend those topics wouldn’t affect her, or at least those near her.
“She was ill just after Easter, and that got her thinking. Now remember, she still has Dowager rights to the Baron’s estates, but that third cousin of mine inherited the title. However, she owns that town house in Nuremberg and that estate south of the city, not to mention a fair amount of other wealth and even property.”
Jana nodded. “You always thought your Aunt Margarita would inherit most of it, or maybe her daughter.”
“That’s what we all thought,” Daria agreed. “Assuming nothing changes, instead the townhouse and most of the furnishings will be sold off and the money split between Mother and my two aunts when Grandmother passes. In turns out that Aunt Amelia’s apartment in Munich actually belongs to Grandmother. She was given that outright. Mother was given some of Grandmother’s jewelry that Grandmother inherited from her family, and will inherit most of the rest of that lot. Most of the jewelry that Grandfather gave her will go to Aunt Margarita. The rest, she gave to my sister. My cousin will inherit her estate, although Aunt Margarita will have a life tenancy.”
“Your cousin might not mind, but I bet her husband will.”
“Probably, especially since it’s now basically entailed it their children.”
“So, do you get anything or does only Liesl come out ahead, as usual?”
“Under the will? Any other wealth will be divided five ways, one share for each daughter, one share for my cousin Greta, and my sister and split a share.”
“Well, at least it’s something.”
Daria smirked. “I got some other things now.”
Jana’s eyebrow went up in surprise. “Like what?”
“There’s a small cottage and allotment connected to the estate; she gave that to me outright. At least as long as Grandmother is alive, the estate people will keep up the cottage and its garden for me.”
“Probably better in the long run than jewelry,” Jana admitted, impressed.
“Another thing she owns is a block of flats, near the Polytechnic.”
“She’s giving you an apartment block?” Jana demanded, stunned.
“No, she’s going to give me a five-year lease on an apartment, when one comes up this spring, and pay for mt schooling, assuming I get in.”
“You know you’ll get in,” Jana scolded. “So, you won’t have to find stereotypical cheap student lodgings. Assuming I get into the Art Institute, would you like a roommate?”
“Your parents are graduates, your mother’s family helped found it, and you’re a great artist. You’ve even exhibited there already. You’re an even surer bet than I am, but no, I won’t have a roommate.”
While slightly unexpected, the directness was even more startling. Jana would have been really hurt if Daria hadn’t added, “It will be a two-bedroom flat, so you going to be my flat mate, not my roommate.”
“Sometimes I hate you.”
“Don’t be mean to your future landlady,” Daria teased.
“One more year to go,” Jana stated. “We have lots to look forward to.”
Thinking back to Jodie and Germany’s current political situation, Daria wasn’t nearly as optimistic.
**
August 30, 1933, a small two-bedroom flat in Nuremberg.
Jana and Daria entered their apartment wearily, careful not to drop the viola cases they were carrying. The pair set them down near the door, where Daria kicked off her shoes, and the pair collapsed on the sofa. The rest of the area had a small window with comfortable if worn chairs on either side of the window with the sofa facing it. Behind them, there was a desk and chair, a table with the chairs where they ate, and a radio.
“How the hell did we get into a day like today?” Jana complained tiredly as she struggled to toe off a shoe. It was nearly 11:00 pm, and neither had the energy to even turn on a light, as there was just enough coming from the brightly lit street for them not to stumble about.
“A combination of factors that all worked against us.”
Jana managed to kick the other shoe and sighed in relief. “At least it’s over.”
“For us; the town is still crazy.”
“Oh, yeah, the Nazis are conferencing for another few days. Still, granted you agreed to play in the civic orchestra to keep your mother happy….”
“’Don’t waste all that money we spent on lessons and a viola’,” Daria sniped. “Even though she forced me into it years ago. And you voluntarily joined me, both back in school and last month when we joined here.”
“Okay, those were my mistakes, but still….”
“The Nazis are at least temporarily dominate if not in control,” Daria reminder her friend. “Hitler is in charge of the day-to-day government, other political parties are banned, the Jews are being kicked out of the civil service, not to mention….” Daria’s voice broke a bit as she finished with, “all the book burnings.”
“At least you have most of ours hidden away in the attic of your cottage,” Jana reminded her friend. They had each sacrificed a few books to make certain their rooms hadn’t been ‘searched,’ i.e. trashed. “I wish I knew why they were so insistent, but at least you had us ready.”
“I thought you knew who fingered us,” Daria replied, slightly surprised. “Ruttheimer.”
“Karl? That puke!” Jana frowned. “How do you know?”
“I didn’t realize you didn’t see him. He was out by the stairway, in an SS uniform.”
“A what?”
Daria rolled her eyes, making Jana frown. “At least you know the S.A., right?”
“Even Sandra never missed the Storm Troopers, even if was to complain about their brown uniforms.”
“You’ve seen the ones in the black uniforms?”
“Of course; there aren’t many of them. I thought they were like the officer corps now or something.”
Daria shook her head. “No, Goering and some guy called Himmler separated out an elite group from the S.A. to act as bodyguards and such. They are sort of an elite while the S.A. are the street thugs.”
“And Karl is somehow a member of an elite? I didn’t think even the Nazis would stoop that low.”
Daria shrugged. “His father is a long-term supporter and is rich.”
“Can we blame him for having to play three two and a half hour concerts in one day?” One had been late morning, the second mid-afternoon, and the last had just concluded half an hour before. That was a lot of performing, especially for some of the brass players, considering the Nazi preferences in music.
“No, that was just the city and orchestra’s management sucking up to the people who can either shut us down or give us more money.” The 5th Nazi Party Conference, the first since 1929, was being held in Nuremberg August 30-September 3.
After a few moments of silence, Jana asked, “Daria…things are going to keep getting worse before there’s any chance of them getting better, right?”
“On the whole, I am afraid you’re right,” Daria had to agree.
“What do you think will happen?”
“To who?”
“To the country…. To our families…not to mention to us.”
Daria shrugged. “Who can tell? The Nazis seem divided, other than in their devotion to Hitler, with Strasser on the left and the S.A. types on the right. Maybe they’ll fall apart, but right now the Party is riding high. Will they succeed in fully suppressing the Communists, Social Democrats, and everyone else, or will there be an open revolt?”
“Even more blood in the streets….” Jana shuddered.
“I know.” Daria sighed. “I don’t think much of Hindenburg, but I wish he were younger, or at least healthier.”
“I know,” Jane echoed, “Sometimes I think that old man is the only thing keeping us from total chaos, as opposed to the relative chaos.”
“Our parents should be ok.” Daria gave her friend a concerned look. “Liesl will be fine, but I worry about your brothers and older sister.”
“With her work for the Communists, I’m worried about Penelope as well,” Jana agreed. “Why worry about the two idiots.” She smirked. “I could see if it was just Tristen….”
“Jana!” Daria snapped. “Can you really imagine either of your brothers in the army if they bring back conscription?”
“Those two? Hell no, but having a conscript army is illegal!”
“No, it’s against a treaty that the current government doesn’t feel obligated to follow,” Daria retorted. “We’ll likely leave the League of Nations sooner or later, and then really start spending on the military again.”
“With what money? The Government is practically broke!”
“They’ll borrow, and when it gets too bad…the French won’t want to fight again unless we attack them or Belgium again, and I don’t think we would problems with taking Austria or even Czechoslovakia or Poland if the military has a few years to build.” Daria shook her head. “Read Hitler’s book; that’s his plan – build the army back, attack to the east.”
“It’s too late and I’m too tired to get depressed, so change the subject,” Jana demanded.
“Since you brought him up, have Tristen and friends managed the transition from jazz band to old fashioned dance band?” Seeing the look on her friend’s face, Daria could only ask, “What’s happened?”
“The S.A. learned that Max is a quarter Gypsy. Tristen tried to protect him, but the other two walked out, and won’t come back. Max has apparently left the area. Tristen is playing beer halls by himself, and hates it, but just says, ‘music is music,’ like he’s trying to convince himself.”
Daria sighed. She steeled herself and forced herself to stand. “Let’s get some sleep.”
**
September 3, 1934, the small two bedroom flat in Nuremberg. Jana is sprawled on the sofa, clinging to Daria and crying. Outside, a band playing a military march is passing by. Daria is trying to comfort Jana.
“Why?” Jana demanded, not for the first time.
“The Nazis just massacred a number of their own, not to mention other political enemies,” Daria said gently, referred to the so-called ‘Night of the Long Knives’ of June 30th. “They’ve been sending other political opponents to that camp at Dachau for about a year and half. We knew Penelope was under threat….”
“But they shot her!”
Daria hugged her friend more tightly. There had been rumors of deaths at the camp as well as confirmed deaths, but this was the first time, so far as Daria knew, that someone had been acknowledged as being deliberately killed, although at least some of the ‘suicides’ and other deaths were more than suspicious. On the other hand, she could believe that Penelope had been foolish enough to attack the guards taking her into the camp.
The passing band was at its loudest as it went right past their open window. Jana sat up and spat, “And now those murderers are coming into town to celebrate Hindenburg’s death and that charlatan’s taking complete power.” The next Party Conference would start on the 5th and the faithful and curious were quickly gathering in town.
Daria took her friend firmly by the shoulders and glared into her eyes. The look was so intense that Jana was startled into fully paying attention despite her anger and grief. “I understand why you feel this way, but unless you want the same thing to happen to you, DO NOT say anything like that ever again outside these walls and even then only to me! Understand?” When Jana did not respond, Daria’s grip tightened and she shook her friend slightly. “I mean it, Jana.” A tear ran down Daria’s face. “I couldn’t face this world if the same thing happened to you.”
Jana hugged her companion. “I couldn’t stand it if something happened to you.” She kissed Daria’s cheek. “Thank you for being here for me,” she whispered in Daria’s ear as they hugged tightly.
Embarrassed, Daria could only say, “Thank you,” as she returned the hug. Then she teased, “Just remember, this in Nuremberg in 1934, not Berlin six years ago.”
“I love you in many ways, but as cute as you are, I still prefer boys,” Jana teased back. “So do you.”
Blushing from being called ‘cute’ (which had been Jana’s intention, as she tried to change the mood), Daria still reminded her friend, “Yes, we ‘prefer’ boys.” The two had, after all, experimented more than once in the past.
“Daria,” Jana said quietly, “I don’t want to revisit the past, but could you hold me tonight?”
“Of course.”
**
September 30, 1938 – a cottage on an estate outside of Nuremburg.
The cottage is a modest but modernized one – a large front room, a modest bedroom and an even smaller one, a small bathroom, and a kitchen. The smaller bedroom has the only bed; the larger one is used as a painting studio. It is filled with finished to partially started landscapes and a few slightly kitschy village scenes, all in styles officially approved by the Party. Still, all of the finished paintings and some of the others all have tags indicating they have already been sold.
The main room has a writing desk with a typewriter and writing supplies, and nearby is a smaller roll-top desk overflowing with paper – envelopes, receipts, (paid) bills, etc. There is also a table and two chairs the two women living there eat at, the two easy chairs and sofa from the Munich apartment, and their radio, along with some bookshelves. The entrance to the attic is well-concealed. The walls of all the rooms are surprisingly bare – no paintings, posters, and just one hanging photo. The only other photo is one in the bedroom, of the two women when they left school.
On one side of the small fireplace, there is that only hanging photo – the now-almost obligatory one of Hitler, below it is a bookstand with a copy of ‘Mein Kampf.’ Few would notice that these were really only visible from that side of the room, a side with only a window and bookcases.
The pair were seated next to each other on the sofa, Daria rather straight and stoical, Jana with her elbows on her knees and her face in her hands. Only Daria’s hand on Jana’s back expresses any emotion on her part.
“Those cowardly bastards,” Jana muttered. “They had the chance to stop the madness, and instead they’ve given in.”
“They have,” Daria agreed. Unlike Jana, Daria had held little confidence that the French and British would actually stand up to Hitler during their meeting in nearby Munich over the previous few days. She also entertained no hope that Mussolini was anything but Hitler’s ally, as he had been for the previous few years. The Fascist leader’s opposition to Hitler had faded since 1934, and the Italians had not prevented or even protested the takeover of Austria earlier this year.
“How long before Czechoslovakia is gone, do you think?”
“Not right away, but if it lasts a year, I’ll be shocked.”
“And then Poland?”
Daria nodded, “Yes, and then the big one against the Soviets. The French and British will not want any part of any of that if they aren’t somehow forced to involved before then. And since they wouldn’t fight for Austria or now, I don’t see them being upset about Czechoslovakia going under or our taking the Polish Corridor and Danzig.”
Jana sighed. “I guess not. How about the Italians?”
“I would imagine they’ll be intriguing in the Balkans. They’re already putting pressure on Albania and they want chunks of Yugoslavia.” She shrugged slightly. “Within two years, it’ll be the Great War all over again.”
“Right down to the rationing,” Jana complained.
“Like I said, if we’re lucky, the French and British will stay out of things.” Daria pointed out, “If they do, no blockade, so things wouldn’t be as bad.”
Jana sat up and made a face. “So we have to hope the cowards stay cowards?”
“As much as we hate what’s going on, I still think the Communists would be worse.”
While not as certain of that as her friend, Jana couldn’t bring herself to disagree. After a few moments of silence, though, she thought of something. “If there is a real war, Tristen, and Thomas for that matter, would likely be called up.”
Jana’s brother, like most eligible German men, was now at least in the reserves. Thomas’ position in their lives was a bit more difficult to define these days – he had had more than casual relationships with both women while they were all at university, but he was currently in a clandestine relationship with Tristen – and that relationship would be punished very harshly by the current regime.
“True, along with your other brother,” Daria agreed. She had had a crush on the older Tristen in school, and Thomas had in fact taken first Jana’s and then Daria’s virginities their second year at the university before then hooking up with Tristen. Despite these complications, the two women still considered him a friend. “I think we need to talk to them, and see if they want some cover – we might need some as well.” After the fallout with Thomas, the two had decided to give up on men – however the regime was putting pressure on women like them to marry and have children ‘for the nation’ – especially the ‘children for the nation’ part. Lacking children when (at least apparently) trying to have them was a misfortune—not even trying was becoming akin to suspect.
**
September 4, 1939
Jana entered the cottage and was slightly surprised to see Daria on the sofa, a damp cloth over her eyes and forehead. “Headache?” she suggested. Their (at least on paper) husbands, along with a number of other men (including Greta’s husband Hans) had just left on various trains to formally join their called-up reserve units. Jana had gone with her ‘husband’ (a junior officer) and older brother (still a private after two years in the reserves and technically married to Daria) off. Jana didn’t think Daria would have been crying, but it was possible.
“Yes,” Daria agreed. “Greta officially appointed me the estate manager now that Hans is gone. I spent the morning going over the books, and they are a mess.” She sighed. “Fortunately, even if the estate owes a lot, a lot more is owed. On the other hand, Greta has about nine hundred marks in cash available, but she shouldn’t have to pay for anything until mid-month.”
“Wow, if that’s her cash reserve, I guess we aren’t poor,” Jana joked.
“Here,” Daria replied, sitting up and handing Jana an opened envelope. Seeing Jana’s inquiring look, Daria explained, “It’s a check for your last set of paintings. Go into town tomorrow and cash it.”
“Cash it? Or deposit it?”
“I’d cash it and buy as many art supplies as you can before they start disappearing,” Daria retorted. “You know better than I do what you can make and what you’ll have to pay for.”
She sighed. “It’s a good thing I can work on the estate, I don’t think my neutral writing will sell now that the war’s started.”
“You’ve got money in three banks, a horde of gold that would make some dragons envious, and a bunch of other valuables,” Jana pointed out. “What’s more, you’ve helped me imitate you, so I may not have a horde but I do have reserves built up. Granted, things might get tough, but between what we have, what we can grow, and now your managing the estate, we’ll at least do better than most.”
“Let’s hope so.” Jana walked over and the still-seated Daria put her arm around Jana’s waist. The two hugged like that for some time, both fearful for the future.
**
Late June, 1945
The manager’s office of the estate, a somewhat shabby but still ornate room. Daria, dressed in a very plain outfit of drab outfit of utilitarian fabrics – blouse, long skirt, socks, and shoes – is seated behind the desk. Three American soldiers – a colonel, a captain, and a sergeant – are seated in front of it.
“So, that’s our final offer,” the Colonel stated. He was glad the estate manager was fluent in English, if surprised that she was a tougher negotiator than any of the other Germans he had come across. While wary, she was not afraid of him, was sure of her few remaining rights, and knew her business.
Daria sighed. “No offense, but you are not giving us much of a choice. Could you not give some sort of assurances against…objects disappearing or being damaged?”
The three Americans grimaced, each knowing that theft was indeed more than possible. Damage to furnishings was at least as likely. “Unfortunately, no,” the Colonel answered. “However, if one more step is satisfactory, we can wait another eight days before we start to move in. That would give the remaining estate workers time to shift the most valuable things from here to the dower house or elsewhere.”
“That would be a help,” Daria agreed. “What is this final step?”
“Answers about yourself, Frau Hoffman, and Frau Schaefer and your connections.”
“As in ‘how Nazi were we’?”
He ignored the sarcasm in her tone. “To be frank, yes. As well as any others you may be closely associated with.”
“As far as I know, none of the workers or their spouses on the estate had anything directly connected to the Nazis. Obviously, I cannot say anything about their private opinions or say anything about their relations – I never heard of any relatives who were actual party members but it is certainly possible. While several of them have, or had, sons in the military, I do not believe any were in the SS or similar groups. I have the estate records here, and the Sargent can copy down their information before you leave. That includes the information on their sons in the military – I have those in case I needed to notify them of any problems with their parents.” The three nodded.
“Frau Schaefer is both my best friend of some two decades standing and my sister-in-law. Her older sister was shot by the Nazis in 1934. Neither of us joined any Nazi organization – although she is an artist and I made my living before the War as writer, we did not join any Party-sponsored group. Her oldest sister, who married and divorced twice, had five children. Neither she nor her children joined the Party, nor did the ex-husbands. One of the ex-husbands died on the Eastern Front, one son died in North Africa. I believe the other three are still alive and were enlisted men in the regular army. Both of Frau Schaefer’s brothers were also drafted into the regular army. Her oldest brother died during the invasion of Greece. Her older brother, my husband, died in Italy. Neither of her parents have any Nazi associations that I know of.” Daria then gave the Americans the names and home addresses of Jana’s relatives. “Her father-in-law however is a rather important financier in Munich. While not a Nazi supporter, I would be very surprised if he avoided dealings with the Party once they ran the government.” Daria’s face showed a trace of indignation. “Since his son’s death, neither he nor his family have been in contact. Here is one of his business cards; his other addresses are on the back. I hope at least one of them is still habitable.” The three Americans were again impressed by this woman’s preparedness, and slightly irritated by her (understandably) repeated references to the large-scale destruction the Allies had caused throughout Germany.
“Frau Hoffman is my first cousin. Her mother, who died in a bombing of Munich in late 1943, was the oldest of three sisters. My mother is the middle sister. My Aunt Amelia, who never married, was killed in the same bombing as my Aunt Margarita. Neither joined any Nazi organizations. My father is the vice president of the Bank of Rasental, that’s a small town closer to Nuremberg than it is to here or Munich, and his only sibling was a brother killed in the first war. All my grandparents have passed. My mother worked in the town civil service until dismissed by the Nazis in 1937, along with most other women holding similar positions. She is still head of the local Red Cross. It is possible, even likely, that my father, mother, and Aunt Margarita had business and social contacts with local Nazi officials, due to their social positions, or my father’s business position, but never direct ties.” Again, Daria supplied names and addresses.
“I see.” The Colonel, from Alabama, knew quite well how that worked – he would never join the KKK himself, but he knew plenty of people (including some relatives) who were either members or at least had social contact with those who were members, even if they disagreed with the Klan rhetoric. Some contact with Nazis was almost unavoidable for many who refused actual Nazi organizations or even beliefs.
“As for my cousin…. I must point out that the estate was owned by our grandmother. She left it to my cousin, and it is entailed to her son Fritz, who is eight. Her husband, although he acted as the estate manager before I took over when the war started, had no ownership rights at all, and even then most of the work was done by others before I took over.”
“I take it he has, or had, more…direct ties with the Nazis?”
“Yes. First of all, he also died on the Eastern Front, at Stalingrad. At the time, his rank in the SS was equivalent to that of your rank of colonel. He joined the Party right before Hitler came to power. I do not recall if it was in December, 1932, or January, 1933, but he saw which way the political tide was shifting and was happy to swim with that tide. Between Hitler’s appointment as Chancellor and 1938, he was mostly working as a Party official in Nuremburg itself. I have no idea what, if anything, he did, as he never talked about it when I was present. My cousin may of course have some idea.” She slid a piece of paper over. “That is the detailed information on him, including his identification numbers and Party number.”
“Thank you. We will of course have to speak with your cousin.”
“Of course. My sister-in-law and I have lived here since the summer of 1936. I never saw my cousin’s husband bring any of his Nazi cronies to the estate, at least not in uniform, and was certainly never introduced to any. My cousin may have met them on her infrequent trips to Nuremburg or Munich.”
“Naturally.”
“I believe that leaves my sister, Liesl, unless there is someone else you feel the necessity of inquiring about?”
“If you have information on any our people might want or need to know about, that would be appreciated, but if you could fill us in on your sister?” The Colonel didn’t know about a number of these people, but Frau Farbahn seemed to be the most constructively helpful German he had examined so far as well as not overly-defensive, evasive, or vindictively informative.
“I am certain your people are intensively making inquiries in Nuremburg. Both my sister-in-law and I studied there after leaving school. The worst you will find out is that in 1933, we were members of the civic orchestra, and therefore had to play several concerts at that year’s Party rally. We resigned after that season. I believe you would find less directly about my sister. Indirectly, she had three admirers through her school days and that continued until they all joined the military in 1935, two entered the army, and the third the Luftwaffe. I believe they all achieved non-commissioned rank; I do not know anything further about them, but while I do not know if any of the three were ardent nazis – I do not recall hearing about any of them actually joining the Party – they were rather vocally pro-Nazi in school. They were likely just riding the pro-Nazi feelings of post-1933.”
“Go on.”
“Our maternal grandmother was still alive until 1937. As the daughter of a count and the widow of a baron, she had entrée into many of the remaining traditional social circles in both Nuremburg and especially Munich. Grandmother disapproved of the Nazis, almost more because most lacked social distinction than all of their attitudes. Therefore, she was happy to sponsor my sister once her grandson-in-law associated with the Nazis. My sister was…is the expression ‘social butterfly’ correct?”
“It sounds like it.”
“After my grandmother died, many of those invitations dried up, and she frequented some of the equivalent Nazi social events, so if someone were to go through the society pages of the period, her name might be mentioned. When she married in 1938, however, it was to a fighter pilot in the Luftwaffe, Hans Hagen. He was shot down and killed in July of 1944. She and her daughter are living with my parents.”
“I see. Anything else?”
Daria paused, and then asked, “Yes.” She swallowed nervously. “Tell me, are the stories emerging about…about those…camps true?”
The Colonel gestured to the Captain. “I’ve been to three of those places, not to mention a few factories run by…subcontractors to those camps for various industries. I don’t know what you’ve heard or read, but while there was no…cannibalism or….” He paused in thought. “What was that exaggeration that was spread in the last war?”
“Soap rendered out of human bodies instead of horses,” the Colonel supplied.
“Right, short of that, anything you heard is likely understating the horrors.” He shuddered, to the surprise of the others. “I saw hundreds of walking corpses, most of whom died within a few days despite finally being fed. I saw a few thousand corpses, mounds of gold teeth, eyeglasses, and more. If what a colleague of mine told me is true – he inspected a camp in Poland to compare to what we found – it was even worse there.”
“I see. Tell me, is anyone inquiring into the Ruttheimer family?”
The two officers exchanged looks and shrugged. “Not to our knowledge, but one thing we are looking for are leads to investigate.”
Daria nodded. “Karl Senior lived just outside of Rasental although he also owned a townhouse – might still if they are still standing. He owns a large insurance company, headquartered in Nuremburg. He financed that disgrace of a newspaper, ‘Der Stürmer’.” That got the Americans’ attention – they were to look for anyone with links to that notorious publication. “He served with Streicher in the last war, and stayed friends with him. I don’t know if he ever formally joined the Party, but was always a vocal supporter in town. His son, Kark Junior, was in my year of school, and he was the leading antisemite in our school. Somehow, he was allowed to join the SS while we were in our last year. I don’t know where he ended the war, but he worked at Dachau after he left University and I heard he transferred to set up a camp called Ravensbrück when it started in 1939. I would imagine both are under investigation.”
“Do you know Ravensbrück?” the Colonel asked the Captain.
The Captain shook his head, but consulted a lift in his notebook. “It was a women’s camp, just outside Berlin.”
Daria gave them one last set of addresses. “There are, or were, the family addresses for their townhouse in Rasental and their estate just outside of town.”
“You should hear from us in two days,” the Colonel said, standing. With that, they took their leave.
As they were driving away, the Colonel asked, “Comments?”
“If she was holding back anything important, she’s likely too cagy to be caught,” the Captain answered.
“I agree,” the Sargent stated, “but of all the Germans I’ve interviewed, she seemed the most straightforward; most have been at least slightly afraid of us, or arrogant or both.”
“True,” the Captain agreed.
“She didn’t bat an eye at my name,” the Jewish Sargent commented. “Or at our German.” Both the Sargent and Captain were fluent, while the Colonel did not really know the language well at all.
“Do you both agree I should okay the deal, pending any further information?”
The Sargent nodded, while the Captain went further. “We can commandeer any place we want, but we’ve been told to try and strike reasonable deals. She drove a decent bargain, and it’s a great location to house people to administrate the area.”
“You want them to welcome us, instead of put up with us?” the Sargent asked.
“How?”
“Well, we’re getting good supplies now. I know of a warehouse full of field rations we likely won’t need. Distributing some to the folks we make these deals with would certainly make their lives better. We all know it’s not great food, but better than what they’re getting.”
“Win their hearts and minds through their stomachs?” the Captain mused. “Why not?”
“I’ll bring it up when I meet the general tonight.”
Two mornings later, Daria and Jana finished locking the cellar of the dower house, much to Greta’s displeasure. That cellar had three weeks’ worth of US military c-rations for each person on the estate. Daria was going to be sure each person got their day’s ration, rather than taking more than they were rationed. There was a group of two dozen US soldiers stationed around the estate, putting up a wire fence to act as a parameter marking out what would be a US facility in many senses within a few days.
Daria and Jana carried their rations back to their cottage. “What do we have for lunch?” Jana asked as they opened the day’s rations and separated out the three meals. Viewing the mid-day’s offering, she stated, “I have…a tin of something simply called canned Swiss and American cheese, and some kind of biscuits?”
“In this case, American for ‘hard tack’ or ‘ship’s biscuits’.”
“Ah, five candies….”
“Caramels,” Daria told her.
“Alright. A sugar cube, a little packet of salt, a packet of four cigarettes, matches, a few sticks of that chewing they seem to like, and a package of lemon flavoring for water.”
“Well,” Daria responded, “mine is almost the same. The tin of cheese says ‘cheese and bacon,’ and I have a different brand of cigarette. My water flavor claims to be ‘grape’.”
“Let’s forgo the flavored water, open a nice bottle of Reisling, and enjoy this.”
“Let’s!”
“May our lives be better!”
Rasental= literally ‘lawn valley’ i.e. dale
Daria’s family
Liesl=Quinn
Margarita=Aunt Rita
Greta=Erin
Hans=Brian
Amelia=Aunt Amy
The Baroness=Grandmother Barksdale
Farhbahn=literally ‘Lane’
Jana=Jane
Tristen=Trent
Penelope=Penny
Sandra=Sandi Griffin
Karl Ruttheimer=Charles/Upchuck
Thomas Shaefer=Tom Sloane
The Lipchitz family=the Landons
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