Chapter 9: Good Intentions

After a thorough questioning with Rose, it was decided I would share what little I knew about the whereabouts of my father, and I would also help with supplies. Because of my father's position and authority, my mother and I always had food to spare. My father would also send us money once a month, but I knew my mother hated to use it and only did in times of real necessity. I could give Rose some of the money to aid the escape of the Jews she protected, along with food and wine. High-ranking officers frequently brought us wine as a way to spy on us and to honor my father for being precisely what Hitler wanted him to be. Throughout the war, my father won many medals. He fit Hitler's mold so well it scared me.

It was hard keeping the secret of what I was doing from my mother, although, during that time, my mother was so consumed with grief and loathing that she didn't really notice what I was doing with my time. My mother and I had never been particularly close, and I knew she had always envied the love and admiration I had once held for my father. However, after my mother banished him from our home, she and I were forced to rely upon one another. She and I tiptoed around each other for a long time, never knowing exactly what to say. We managed to coexist with one another, but I always loved her, I supposed I just never saw her. When my father was gone, suddenly I couldn't ignore her anymore. She abruptly stopped just being my mother, and became a person to me. She was a person whose life was also being destroyed. I was not alone in my suffering, and yet she and I did not know how to suffer together, so we suffered separately in the same space.

My father came and went as he pleased. At times he would come home after being gone for two or three months. Other times he would come back after only being gone for a week or so. He would never stay long, and when he did come, it was never for us. He came back for parties, or supplies. Part of his job was to mingle and associate with other officials who would support his position and the camp. No one seemed to ever know what exactly happened at the camp, and no one wanted to know in reality. The one thing we all did know was if you were taken to the camp, you never came home. Those who had been taken in the early days had never been seen or heard from again. My father had once mentioned the camp wasn't too far away, but no one actually knew for certain where it was. Rose had an idea, but tried not to talk about it as much as possible.

I was stealing and helping smuggle Jews out of my town, which was swarming with soldiers, and I, myself, being the daughter of a high ranking SS officer. I don't think I could have fathomed what I was actually participating in. I desperately wanted to do something to fix what my father was breaking. Yet, looking back, I was still so naïve about what the consequences of my actions could be. Perhaps I did know, and I didn't care. I was a child rebelling against a cruel father and risking the lives of others to do it. I couldn't believe my father would harm me if caught, I didn't see myself as being a risk to the cause. I had inherited my father's arrogance.

All I ever wanted to do was to help in any way I could. Working with Rose came with a certain amount of excitement that was hard to deny. John and I weren't the only people working for Rose's underground. There several men and women that helped hide Jews in their basements when Rose's small crawl space was too crowded. There were so many to help, and so little space to hide. I couldn't really fathom what Rose was risking hiding Jews just below the feet of armed soldiers ready to kill at a moment's notice. But if anyone could distract them, it was Rose. Flattery got her anywhere and everywhere with them. John had a small desk in the corner of the big open office space of the paper where he would pretend to be assisting Rose when in actuality, he was deciphering his father's coded letters.

Rose had three large men that would shadow her from time to time, almost like bodyguards. They were guides when it came time to move the Jews from the bunker into the shrouded woods behind the paper and on into Switzerland. But I wondered if they ever did more for her than just that. One day when John and I were walking from school to nowhere, in particular, I couldn't help but ask John.

"Has Rose ever killed a SS man?" I asked quietly, taking his hand and nuzzling close to his ear so no one could overhear us.

I felt his body stiffen, "Why?" He asked, looking around for onlookers.

"It would make sense if she did, I wouldn't blame her is all I mean," I said, not sure if I meant that or not. I had thought about taking my father's gun and shooting him in his sleep whenever he came home, but I could never bring myself to do it.

"You shouldn't be asking this so out in the open." John scolded, but I could feel his shoulders relaxed a bit, "I think perhaps she might." John said, kissing my forehead, pretending our conversation was nothing serious for anyone who might be passing by.

"What I mean is, on top of smuggling," I whispered close to John's ear, "Does she also have plans to kill Nazis?"

John turned abruptly and pushed me against a wall and leaned in close to my neck as though he were going to kiss it. I peered over his shoulder and saw two soldiers pass by across the street from us. "We shouldn't talk about this out in the open like this." He whispered close to my neck; I could feel his hot breath on my skin, and I shivered slightly. "Common," He said, taking my hand and pulling me behind him. We walked to Mr. Becker's shop, we stood outside for a moment taking in the wreckage. Then John pulled me inside and looked around for anyone who might be hiding in the upstairs apartment. "Okay, we should be safe here," John said, descending the stairs from the apartment.

"I want to know if Rose has men killing Nazis," I said bluntly, not wanting to waste time.

"I don��t know for certain," John said, picking up a block of uncarved wood from the ground and fiddling with it.

I turned and looked at the clock that hung behind me, it had once been grand and had been completely destroyed. "I couldn't kill anyone." I said with shame, "Even if I needed to, I don't think I could."

"Anyone can kill if they need to." John said, sounding so knowledgeable on the topic, "Even you."

I turned to him in surprise, "Have you killed anyone?" I asked, not sure why I hadn't thought to ask before.

John hesitated, "No." He replied honestly, "But I would if I had to."

"I want to help people, not kill them." I could feel my heart race with anxiety.

"No one is asking you to kill anyone," John said, looking at me with confusion.

"I know, but--" I didn't know what I was saying or what I was trying to explain, "If Rose killed my father, I think I would be relived." I shrugged, feeling guilt over my confession.

John stepped towards me and took my hands in his.

"I believe that is a normal feeling for an abnormal situation. I don't think anyone can blame you for feeling that way. I would kill your father in an instant if I had the chance, but the problems wouldn't end with him." John lowered his head "They'll keep coming till the war ends, some of them will die in the process, and then another meaner, angrier, more well-trained man will take the dead man's place, and the whole wheel will continue turning."

I thought about John's words for a moment, "My father's death wouldn't solve anything, would it?" I said, feeling foolish for even asking.

John shook his head, "Unfortunately not. I honestly can't tell you, Beth, if Rose is also trying to take down the Gestapo within. She might be, it sounds like her. But I think if she is, it's out of spite for what she's lost. I don't think she's planning on winning the war single-handedly, although I'm not altogether convinced, she couldn't lure der Führer into a room somewhere and kill him without anyone's help." John and I laughed at the thought, although not altogether an impossible idea. We looked around the shop, longing for better days.

"I wish Rose had been able to help Mr. Becker," I said with a sigh.

John nodded, "Me too."

In January 1942, I had been helping Rose for almost 4 months. Once a month, Mr. Siegfried would do business in the ghetto in the town several miles north. In the process, he would pick up bodies along the way, and would smuggle the living underneath the dead. He would bring them through the forest behind the newspaper building and sneak them inside through the tunnels, and then he would bury the dead he had gathered. After a few weeks of communication with John's father from England, and other connections I was not privy to, Mr. Siegfried would then set up transportation to get people to Switzerland. All the while, Rose distracted and preoccupied the soldiers that buzzed around the newspaper office.

"To be so beautiful, you can distract a whole army," I commented passively one day to John as we helped ration the food for the incoming people.

"What do you mean?" Johns asked.

"Rose, she is so beautiful. Her looks keep the eyes of soldiers far away from what is happening right in front of their faces," I said, feeling suddenly self-conscious about my own plain appearance.

"Don't be so foolish, Beth. You know you are pretty," John said, breaking a few pieces of bread in half.

"I don't want to just be pretty," I said quietly and feeling embarrassed "I want to be…beautiful," I shrugged.

John stopped and looked at me for a moment, "You are the most beautiful girl in the whole world." He smiled at me and kissed me softly. I could feel my face turn bright red, and my heart began to race.

"Are you two quite finished?" Rose appeared behind John suddenly.

"Yes, Beth brought us lots of supplies." John beamed with excitement.

"Good, we need to be able to feed these starving people," Rose said, seeming to be distracted by the list of things she needed to get done before the new arrivals came.

In the time I spent with the Siegfrieds, I had watched them save at least 100 people; however, none of us could be sure if all of them made it out. We were living in a time where the first out of place move you made was brought to the attention of the Gestapo. Friends and family were turning each other in for their own protection. Every step we made had to be precise, down to the very clothes we wore. Rose explained to me that when I came to give them supplies, I was to dress nicely, always. Sometimes all I brought was information on the whereabouts of my father, and in those moments, I would say I was coming to visit John, who, if anyone asked, was working at the paper as an assistant to Mr. Siegfried. This helped with John's reputation to be associated with the daughter of a high ranking SS solider, as well as an SS politician such as Mr. Siegfried. This held off the pressure to join the Hitler youth movement, and I, being merely a girl, was not seen as being very suspicious because everyone in town new that John and I were together. So, when I would show up at the newspaper, every officer wrongly assumed I was there for him. I made it a habit to bring him lunch, and I would stuff the basket full of food, sometimes even shared it with the soldiers that hovered around the paper so they wouldn't think anything of it.

I followed Rose's example of smiling and being friendly to those I loathed. I observed her flirtation with the soldiers, she laughed and charmed them into oblivion. I knew I would never reach her level of manipulation, but I knew a bit of charm and humor would serve my purpose nonetheless. All I needed to do was be invisible. Rose made that task easy with her stories of grandeur, and flirtatious wiles. No one noticed me when they could notice her, so I quickly slipped by without much attention. However, when I did catch the eye of one of the soldiers, I would simply smile, and the moment they heard my name, they went back to not seeing me. I wondered if any of them had actually met my father, or if his reputation was enough to keep them a safe distance from me. One of them had asked John how he had gotten permission from my father to take me out, and John simply said he hadn't asked. His answer seemed to have earned him a certain level of respect with them.

When a new group of Jews would arrive, they always arrived late at night. There was a tunnel that ran from the forest into the basement of the Siegfried's paper. The people would crawl on their hands and knees into the dark tunnel for about a mile and then enter the darkroom of the basement. It always sounded horrible, but I knew even then that the dark and dusty basement was a paradise compared to what they had come from. The stories I heard about the ghettos broke my heart. The Siegfried's were never able to save a family in its entirety, one parent was either left behind or already dead. Bringing a whole family through the gates of the ghettos was impossible, and too big of a risk. Mr. Siegfried always promised he would do his best to go back for those left behind. Unfortunately, those that were left rarely lived to see Mr. Siegfried again. He would, at times, find their bodies and bring them back and bury them. In a way, he kept his promise: he always went back and bought them home if he could.

John and I did our best to keep the cramped, dark, space clean for the newcomers. We set up a table of food and water for them once they arrived, and we made there were cots set up all around the room. I washed each blanket and sheet for them. Many of the guests had lice, and we occasionally had to burn some of their clothes due to the state they were in when they arrived. Luckily I was able to buy a few new items of clothing here and there and had collected a rack of clothes for them to take once they came. John and I waited patiently for the group of people to arrive, and then at about 1 a.m., the first person crawled out of the tunnel. She was a thin, dark-haired girl who was only a few years younger than me. Once she was standing, I could see tear stains on her cheeks. She was panting and looked like she was about to faint until John took her gently by the arm and led her to a cot in the corner.

"Beth, get water," John said softly. I rushed to the table and grabbed a cup and quickly filled it with water and brought it to the girl. As I did so, a few others crawled out of the tunnel, and I smiled and greeted each person I saw. I started handing out water and pieces of bread. Suddenly I heard a familiar voice from behind. I had known a few of the Jews that came through the tunnel from the rare times I had attended synagogue with Mr. Becker, but that voice was too familiar. I turned and there stood Anne, dirt smeared all over her. Her hair was stuck to the side of her face, and she had dark circles under her eyes.

"Beth?" Anne said with complete shock.

"Anne?" I said, matching her tone, but before I could think, I wrapped her in my arms. She felt so fragile, I was afraid I would break her. Her face was sunken, and her features were harsh due to malnutrition.

"Anne?" John approached us, "Is that you?"

Anne turned and smiled, "John," the two embraced, and the three of us stood there for a while, holding each other's hands looking at each other in disbelief.

"What are you two doing?" Anne asked, breaking the silence.

"My father is helping the Siegfrieds with special intel on the war, like where the German forces are. I decipher his messages, so Mr. Siegfried knows when it's a good time to move people out of the ghettos," John said with pride.

"Beth? How are you here? What about... your father?" Fear crossed her face in a flash, and I could see the anxiety was directed towards me. I realized at that moment that I, too, could be seen as a threat to her safety.

"I'm helping here, Anne. You're safe, I promise." I hugged her again, trying to reassure her, but I knew that the distrust that had been beaten into her would not be so easily removed with a hug. "Where are your brothers?" I asked, looking around the room.

Anne's eyes fell to the floor, "They didn't make it," She whispered.

"Oh, Anne,�� John said, placing a hand on her arm. She flinched a bit and then relaxed.

"It's only my father and me now," She turned as her father stood at the entrance of the tunnel, obviously exhausted and trying to gather himself together.

"I'm so sorry, Anne," I said, trying to fight off tears.

"Excuse me," Rose said, trying to get the attention of everyone, there were about 8 people in the group. "I know you all must be so tired, and shortly I will let you all rest, but as I'm sure you are all well aware, the danger you are in is not gone. Unfortunately, you will be hunted if discovered missing, and guards roam the halls of this paper every single day. During the day, you must remain as quiet as possible. Beth Schmidt here brings us as much food and supplies as she can, but we need to make that last for as long as possible.

"My husband and I will do everything within our power to keep you all as safe as possible. We have correspondents there that are working to find placement for each one of you in Switzerland. Please understand that we can only move two at a time, so you may be here longer than anticipated. I know you have all lost a great deal, and are hungry and tired, so please eat and drink. We will give you more instructions once we have more to give."

Everyone found an individual cot, and many of them fell fast asleep before their heads reached the pillow. I sat with Anne on her bed while she ate, and we didn't talk much. There seemed to be so much to talk about, and yet nothing to say. John helped clean up a bit around the room while Anne and I watched him in exhausted silence.

"I always knew John would get you in some kind of trouble," Anne smiled.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," I replied with a smile of my own.

"Does....your father know?" Anne asked suddenly.

"No," I answered matter-of-factly.

"Beth…" Anne stopped for a moment and seemed to consider her words very carefully before continuing, "You can't be a part of this."

I looked at her with surprise, "What do you mean?"

"I know you mean well, but you shouldn't be here," Anne answered, taking a bite from her slice of bread.

"I can't just sit by and watch while people die, Anne," I answered.

"Beth, you don't understand what you're up against this time," Anne said with palpable fear radiating off of her. "You're risking everything." Her dark eyes scanned the dim, damp room where she and 8 others were hiding like animals. My eyes followed her gaze and fell on a young mother and her infant. The baby was wailing, and his mother was so tired that she seemed on the brink of tears herself as she tried to calm the boy and perform the impossible task of making the child happy in a situation like this. My gaze fell back to Anne's, and her eyes held a pain so raw that I suddenly knew how right her words were, and how out of place I was. A lump formed in my throat as I looked back at the young mother. I wanted to help her, of course I did. Anne simply didn't understand the good I was trying to do for them, how could she? She had just arrived, if I could make her understand she would be happy I was here. I reached out and held her hands in mine, perhaps tighter than necessary, but I needed to make her understand.

"I would never do anything to put them in danger, Anne. All I have been doing for weeks has been helping John and Rose get these people and many others to safety. You'll be safe, I promise, we'll get you out."

Anne smiled grimly and then placed her hand affectionately over mine. "Your intentions are never a question in my mind, dear Beth." She placed a gentle kiss on my cheek, and I could feel the wetness of her tears as they fell. She looked at me intensely one more time, trying to convey with her eyes what a thousand words could never say and, as much as I tried to ignore the truth behind them, even I was not so ignorant. Tears fell down her cheeks gently, and she rose without a word, leaving me alone on the cot to offer the young mother some relief. As I watched her interact with these people, I felt my own tears begin to fall. I stood and looked at the room around me for what seemed like the first time. Had it always been this small? I looked at the young mother, beside her sat a brother and a sister who couldn't be much older than myself. There was a young man alone and two more little girls who didn't seem to belong to anyone.

"Dear God, I shouldn't be here." I thought suddenly, feeling painfully aware of how much I resembled my Father. I wiped my tears desperately and retreated to the washroom. My breath was coming hard and fast as I closed the door and sobbed silently into my hands. What could I do? It was too late to turn back, surely the good I was doing for these people outweighed the danger that my paternal relation would cause. I allowed myself to become angry with Anne for making me question the help I was providing these people and even her own family.

I was foolish and young, but even youth cannot excuse the tragedy that I inflicted on those people.