Chapter Twelve
Sam tugged hard on the delicate handkerchief he found hanging from the washing line. He stuffed it into his pocket before running back to where Elsa was waiting for him.
She said something to Klara, who laughed and replied. Elsa looked at him with shining eyes. ‘She wants to know what you have been up to.’
Klara folded her arms and raised her eyebrows, reminding him of his mother after some prank he’d played as a boy. He loved seeing them like this, with their eyes sparkling and cheeks rosy with the spring air.
‘You’ll see.’
‘When?’
‘Later. When we are alone.’
She playfully slapped his arm, which he pretended hurt far more than it did. ‘We are alone. You are teasing me.’
‘Hush.’ He looked around the barren countryside. ‘Someone will hear you speaking English. I will blame you if I’m caught.’ He smiled at her when he saw her puzzled expression. ‘You are right. I am teasing you, but I’ll show you later, when we have time to rest.’
With a shrug, she conceded, took Klara’s hand and slipped her other arm through his. They marched in perfect synchrony towards the city of Lüchow, glad to have left the dark woods far behind and constantly on the lookout for their next place to shelter.
They eventually found it in the unlikely setting of a small village school.
It was set some way apart from the neighbouring buildings and surrounded by high brick walls.
They gained entry through a back window and were able to explore the small school without raising suspicions from the inhabitants nearby.
Sam had never understood the German people’s devotion to Hitler, but now he saw the classrooms, he saw how deep the indoctrination went, even from childhood.
The Führer’s image and large printed quotes from his speeches adorned the covers of textbooks and at least one wall of each room, as if he was a saviour who must be respected and adored.
He paused to flick through a sombre textbook.
Although he could not read it, the illustrations were clear: courage in battle, sacrifice for a greater cause, hatred of Germany’s enemies.
As they walked on, he saw the same messages infiltrated every lesson.
He paused at a worn poster on the wall. Twelve young faces, aged between seven and fourteen years, were captured in time by the photographer’s flash.
Many were in profile. The majority of those on the left had fair hair, all on the right had dark hair. Only one small boy was smiling.
‘What does this poster say?’
Elsa looked away.
‘The title of the poster.’ He pointed to the prominent sentence at the bottom. ‘What does it say?’
‘The soul of the race speaks from the face. It’s a comparison between German and Jewish youth.’
Hearing Elsa’s mumbled translation made his gut churn. How long had they been teaching such abhorrent lies? ‘Did you teach this?’
She looked up and followed the direction of his pointed finger. ‘Not that.’
‘But you went along with—’ he picked up a book and showed her the cover — ‘all these lies?’ He gave it to her and picked up another.
The book hung limply in her hand. ‘If I’d resigned the children would have had no one.’
‘But you didn’t speak up about it.’ He looked at the cover of the book in his hand. An image of Hitler’s face stared back at him.
‘What should I have said?’
He dropped the book on the table.
She dropped hers on the table too. ‘Tell me, Sam. What should I have done?’
Words were not enough to explain the repulsion he felt inside. ‘If you have to ask me that, then it seems I don’t know you at all!’ He walked around the desks, lifting the lids to see what other books were inside.
Elsa followed him. ‘You think I should have refused to teach and left my job?’
‘Yes. Yes I do.’
‘If I’d left because I refused to teach as instructed, I would not have found another job.’
‘Yes you would.’
‘No, Sam. Not in teaching. I had a family to feed.’ She turned away. ‘You’ll never understand.’
‘I understand you taught this!’ He picked up another book and showed it to her. ‘This filth!’
‘I didn’t. Not the way you think I did.’
‘But you didn’t refuse. You went along with it.’
‘You’ll never understand.’
‘Why not?’
She spun around to face him. ‘Because I don’t fully understand it myself!’
She sat down heavily at the teacher’s desk and covered her face with her hands. He watched her in silence, angry at her, hating her, yet wanting her to explain it all away. She should explain, must explain, and he would not fill the silence to help her evade it.
Eventually her face emerged from her hands to look up at him. Her eyes were full of shame — or was that just what he hoped to see?
‘How could you not see how bad this is?’ he asked as he dropped a book on her table.
She stared at the title then shoved it away. ‘You won’t understand.’
‘Explain it to me. Now. I want to hear your excuses.’
‘You look at this classroom and judge me as though it all appeared overnight with one change in education policy, but the foundations for this were dug years before. The changes in our life, in our schools, came slowly at first. When I was a child, division was nurtured. And division causes distance, both emotionally and physically. As a child all I knew was that my life improved after the Nazis came to power and it didn’t seem like there was anything to be concerned about.
The changes were insidious and the real intent was not as clear as that book cover.
’ She fell silent for a moment. ‘I suspect you must think I must be indifferent, ignorant or complicit. I’m probably guilty of all three.
But I, along with many others, never thought the changes would come to what you see here now.
I don’t think you will ever understand. I am not sure I understand myself.
’ She thought of a Jewish school friend who had suddenly disappeared.
She had later learned they had emigrated to another country.
She was too young to ask why they had left with such urgency, not even stopping to say goodbye.
‘Go on,’ pressed Sam.
‘There is nothing wrong with being proud of who you are, having someone to believe in . . . being part of something bigger and better. My generation had never experienced it before and it felt good.’ She clasped her hands together and stared at them intently.
‘But that was in the beginning. Things began to change. As I grew older I noticed that people who disagreed or spoke out lost their jobs or disappeared. It happened slowly, yet suddenly it felt no one could be trusted any more . . . not even your own colleagues and, as a teacher, even your own pupils. If you did not support Hitler, you would be reported. So I kept my mouth shut, taught my pupils their lessons and tried to dilute the worst of it. I greeted my pupils the same way as other teachers and ensured my class chanted “Heil Hitler” three times to greet me in the morning. It was what was required, or I risked losing my job. The Führer was in charge and he was here to stay. What harm could it do? That’s what I convinced myself. ’
She looked up at him. Was she hoping what she had said was enough? He silently stared back at her.
‘When I think back now there were so many changes. I’m not sure if any of us took them seriously at first. “It won’t last.” “It’s just one thing, the government won’t do any more.
” Even our Jewish friends felt the same .
. . at first. But the government did do more.
It was easier to ignore when it did not directly affect you.
After all, the seeds of division were well established by then.
In a way, it’s easy to fall into the same way of thinking.
Father had work at last . . . for the first time in years, we had a new home and we were told we were how a good German family should be.
For a time, life was good. For a time, it was easier to believe in the Führer’s plans and ignore the rest.’
She was rambling now, talking to herself as if he was no longer there, watching, his stomach churning, his understanding still muddied with how a population could be turned. ‘But then . . .’
‘But then what?’ He sounded hopeful. How desperately he wanted her to be redeemed in his eyes! After all, she was Elsa, who he had come to care for far too much.
‘Kristallnacht happened and our Jewish friends disappeared . . . and I had done nothing to help them. I had done nothing to stop their lives from becoming increasingly difficult. That night I just watched from a window. I knew then that what had been happening over the years had infiltrated our lives like a cancer and we were dying from it a little more day by day.’
‘So you gave up teaching?’
She braced herself. ‘No, I did not. I stayed. I have already told you the reasons why. But I resisted and fought back in the only way I could. I did not report those parents that placed doubt about the Führer in their children’s minds.
I was expected to, but I did not. I didn’t report the neighbour who bought more food than she needed.
I knew her son’s Jewish wife and grandchildren were hiding in her attic and I said nothing.
I didn’t report the shopkeepers who did not greet customers with “Heil Hitler”, but I always insisted my pupils used that greeting. ’
‘Why?’
‘Because if they did not learn to greet in that way, they and their families would be treated with suspicion and punished. I did not want that to happen.’ She stood up abruptly, picked up the book he had thrown and placed it carefully on the desk where it had come from.
‘We must leave this place the way we found it. I don’t want people to know we have been here. ’