The Baker's Daughter

Chapter Seventeen

LEBENSBORN PROGRAM

STEINHÖRING, GERMANY

JANUARY 4, 1945

Dear Papa and Mutti,

Heil Hitler and Grüs Gott. This is a difficult letter to write. As you know, the goal of the Program is to produce fine Germans for our nation. I came here to do my duty, honoring both our family and the memory of Peter, and I believe I have served our Fatherland well.

A couple months ago, I sent you word of the twins born to the Program. The girl is perfect. However, her brother is continually sick and weak. The Lebensborn directors have decided that, despite our efforts, he will never be of quality. Therefore, they request that I sign paperwork to relinquish him from the Program. I have asked to contact you so that our family might care for the child, but they refuse to confirm their intentions. I am deeply troubled for his well-being. Though he has been determined inadequate, he has the Schmidt nose, light hair, and a slight bow to the lips like Mutti’s. They will not permit me to see him—afraid I may become emotional and upset the daily routine. But shouldn’t the routine be upset for something like this? I curse these doctors and nurses for having such little consideration for the children of Germany. Remember when I was young and sickly during my infancy, but look at me now! If only they would wait. If only they would see his spirit. It is strong. I know. I felt it in my womb. Oh, Papa, Mutti, how I ache for him—if not to save him then to say good-bye. It is a similar aching to when my beloved Peter left so unexpectedly. Peter calls to me in my dreams, and I fear my new son will haunt me in similar fashion. I know this is nothing but my own weakness. There are no spirits in this world. The sun rises and sets, seasons come and go, life begins and ends. It is nature’s way, as the führer says. But sometimes I think there may be more. Sometimes I know there must be.

I have been committed to the Fatherland in every measure, even personal sacrifice, but this is too much for me to bear. I wish you were here to comfort me.

Heil Hitler

Hazel

P.S. A woman who works in the market has mailed this letter on my behalf and at much personal risk. She understands my pain. After giving birth to a Mongoloid last spring, she was released from the Program. The child was taken by the SS-Gefolge not a minute after reaching the world, and to this day she does not know of its placement. Her name is Ovidia. She is my friend. I pray this reaches you.

LEBENSBORN PROGRAM

STEINHÖRING, GERMANY

JANUARY 6, 1945

Dear Elsie,

They removed Friedhelm from the Program yesterday. I couldn’t sleep last night but had to feign it and keep my tears quiet or chance exposing my true feelings to my roommates, Cata and Brigette. As I suspected, they are vulgar Lutzelfraus! Brigette has whispered my every word and action to the Oberführer. Spying on me as though I were a traitor when I have given no cause. All I admit to is loving my babies! The Program does not approve of its mothers claiming maternal ownership over the children of the Fatherland, but I cannot help what I feel. They were inside my belly for nine months, not the führer’s. Friedhelm is flesh of my flesh and bone of my bone. How could I be expected to cast him off with such little care? It’s like asking the seasons to stop because the führer demands. Impossible! Don’t they see they are asking me to change the very basics of nature? After yesterday, I question, my duties here. My faith in our purpose has been broken. I want to know where my son is! I cannot go on as if he never was. What kind of mother would I be if I could? What kind of woman? Pray for me, Elsie. The world has never looked so dark and hopeless as it does now. The only way to do what they command and subvert my maternal instincts is for my heart to stop beating. I prayed for that through the night but saw the sunrise nonetheless. I don’t blame God for not listening to me. I shut him out when Peter died and I joined the Program. I don’t deserve his mercy now.

I understand this is treasonous talk and should this letter fall into the hands of the authorities, they will send me to the camps with the other enemies of the Reich or shoot me on the spot. But I cannot keep silent. The weight of this sadness is too great. I can only write my true feelings to you, Elsie. I know you will not betray me.

Since my roommates watch my every turn, I’m giving this letter to Ovidia. Hopefully it will reach you. After you’ve read it, please, tear it up and burn it in Papa’s oven. Not for my sake, but for your own and the safety of our family.

Love,

Hazel

LEBENSBORN PROGRAM

STEINHÖRING, GERMANY

JANUARY 8, 1945

Elsie, today I write to you with a spirit burdened by anger and despair beyond all hope of redemption. I’m living with demons so I must already be in hell. My roommate Cata, having recently borne a healthy son to the Program, was permitted into the newborn nursery to wean. There, she saw my daughter, round and blond as an angel, but she overheard the nurses discussing Friedhelm. One of the nurses said that Doktor Ebner was disappointed to learn of the twin Friedhelm’s failure given the Program’s fertility drugs and proscribed prenatal vitamin regimen. To that, one of the nurses claimed that if the mother had a hidden deficiency, then it would surely be passed on to one, if not all, of her offspring. Therefore, Cata said, they have begun testing my daughter to ensure she does not carry some mutation or derivation of our Aryan race. Unthinkable! As to my son, Brigette claims that after too much wine, a Gruppenführer confided to her in bed that they poisoned the Program’s unwanted newborns and threw them in the fire, burying their bones alongside the exterminated Jews in the camps! Oh, Elsie! If the stories are true, then they are damned to hell and I along with them. I pray for the Americans and Russians to come. I welcome them and hope we all are burned to ash for the sins committed here. I do not think I will ever find rest again. It is near dawn now and I must get this letter to Ovidia before the Monday market opens. I love you most dearly, Elsie. Please know that—whatever comes.

Hazel

SCHMIDT BÄCKEREI

56 LUDWIGSTRASSE

GARMISCH, GERMANY

JANUARY 12, 1945

Dear Hazel,

The last letter I received from you was postmarked the 27th of December. I asked Postmaster Hoflehner if the mail had stopped due to the fighting in the north. He assured me that it had not and that Reich Postal Ministry is working at the highest standards of German efficiency, albeit at a slightly protracted punctuality. Then he handed me a letter from Herr Meyer to Papa as evidence. I told him one swallow does not make a spring. Herr Meyer lives in Partenkirchen. I could ride my bicycle there and back faster than it took this letter to arrive at the Garmisch Post Office.

I cannot help worrying. I’ve awoken many nights with you in my dreams. A notion that refuses to leave the mind is a sign, so Mutti has said. A sign of what, she’s never articulated. I try not to tell her anything that will cause her concern. She’s so easily troubled and doesn’t understand our times. The world is not as it was when she was our age. So I keep my nightmares and thoughts to myself. You were the only one I could talk to, Hazel. I understand now that we must be prudent in every written word. Perhaps in my earlier letters, I made the mistake of impertinence. I pray they did not fall into the wrong hands and that is the reason for your silence! I was not thinking of the danger to you—only of myself and my longing to tell you so much. Please, forgive me and consider it the frivolous scribbling of a silly girl. Is it possible to be nearly seventeen yet feel one hundred years old?

Remember the story Mutti told us of Frau Grunwald whose hair went from red as summer strawberries to winter white after finding her three sons hung in the stables by the French at the end of the first war? To this day, Herr Grunwald’s ancient mother appears younger than his wife. I thought nothing could be as tragic as that. But now I believe I understand. I feel the weight of this war pressing down on me. I see it in Mutti’s and Papa’s faces. We are all growing older too quickly. I barely recognize any of us. Sometimes I forget your face and it frightens me so that I take your photograph and stare hard until I’m sure it’s burned into my mind’s eye.

I wish you were home, Hazel. I miss my sister. If only you were here. If only, if only, if only. I pray for your safety and health, and the same for all your children.

Heil Hitler.

Your loving sister,

Elsie

LEBENSBORN PROGRAM

STEINHÖRING, GERMANY

JANUARY 13, 1945

Elsie, promise me you’ll take care of Julius. He is all that is left of the happy life I dreamed for Knowing what I do now, I cannot bear another day here. Elsie, I hope you can understand why I did what I felt I must. I love my children—all of them. But I am not the mother they deserve—flawed in my love for them. I pray there is truly a God and he is forgiving. Try to make Mutti and Papa see. I love you all and will miss you, my dear sister, most.

Yours eternally,

Hazel