Chapter 21 The Moringen Library
The Moringen Library
Moringen
Two months . . . Helene thought as she stared out the workshop window.
Spring was certainly on its way, but the cold was relentless, especially at night. During her weeks at Moringen she had learned
several things. The first was the most important: She was pregnant. It worried her more and more. The first sign was that
her period did not come as usual. When she noticed her stomach was swollen, the nausea that had been occasional became constant.
Instead of gaining weight as she should have been, she was thinner than ever because of the poor nutrition at Moringen. Anna
snuck her extra food from a friend who worked in the kitchen, but even that did nothing to calm Helene’s insatiable metabolism.
The second thing she had learned was that happiness was possible even in the worst place on earth.
She had spent the past few weeks teaching some twenty women in the barrack how to read and write.
Helene had been shocked to find that so many women did not know even the basics about the alphabet.
Yet it filled her with joy to improve the lives of so many prisoners, who were learning to write their names and sound out the only two books in the barrack.
Helene’s favorite student was “Little Alice,” as she often called the young woman. They had become inseparable, and many referred
to them as “the Berliners.”
The third thing Helene had discovered was the human capacity to withstand almost anything—and the nearly unlimited human capacity
for evil.
Helene had always believed that education had the power to change society and that evil was a result of ignorance. Yet the
Moringen guards were not ignorant or uneducated. Like many of the prisoners, they were fanatics.
The guard over the political prisoners’ barrack was Ludmilla Albrecht. She was also the prettiest, with long blond curls,
green eyes, and perfect features. It was whispered that she and Hans Wehymeyer, the officer in charge of Moringen, were lovers.
Morality in the camp, especially between male and female guards, left much to be desired. The Nazis no longer hid their vices
or felt bound by the conventions of traditional society.
One day Helene was sent to a warehouse to get more fabric, and she came upon Ludmilla and Hans making out in a corner. She
ducked and fled, but it was too late. Ludmilla had seen her.
Helene was on edge the rest of the day. Sure enough, before the prisoners lined up for roll call, Ludmilla stormed to the
workshop door and demanded that Helene come outside. When she exited, Helene noticed the courtyard was empty.
Ludmilla hissed, “So you like to spy?”
Helene hung her head and said in her most humble tone, “I’m so sorry. I was just going to get another roll of fabric—”
Ludmilla gripped her nightstick with both hands and started circling Helene.
“Don’t you get it? To us, you scum aren’t human. You’ve betrayed your race and your country, and you don’t deserve to be on
this planet. If it were up to me, I’d kill you all.”
She raised her stick, and Helene covered her head with her arms.
“Plus, you’re pretty, and I don’t like that,” the guard said, bringing the nightstick down hard on Helene’s head. “Around
here, I’m the only one men should be looking at.”
The blows kept falling, and Helene crumpled into a ball on the ground, trying to protect her womb and head as best she could.
It was clear from her laughter that Ludmilla enjoyed the beating, and she did not stop until her hands grew tired.
Helene panted for breath on the muddy ground. She squinted up to see Ludmilla beaming at her vulnerability and then the guard’s
boot covered her eyes.
“Stay out of my business from now on,” she said, pressing down just hard enough to cut off Helene’s breath but not to break
any bones. Then she walked away.
When Ludmilla was out of sight, Anna hurried out of the workshop to help Helene, together with Alice and two other prisoners.
With permission from the workshop guard, they carried her to the camp hospital. It was a small building with only ten beds
and had few supplies. But compared to the sleeping barracks, it seemed clean and healthy, with freshly laundered sheets and
wool mattresses.
The doctor was an Austrian Jew named Ruth who had been arrested for supposedly conspiring in a plot to take Hitler’s life, though nothing had ever been proven. Her long white hair swayed gently when she moved, and oversized glasses framed her large, kind eyes.
“What happened here?” Ruth said, rushing over when the door opened.
“Ludmilla again,” was all Anna had to say.
They stretched Helene out on a bed, and Ruth began to examine her.
Ruth shook her head. “That brute has killed two women already. Human life means nothing in this place. They give me hardly
any medicines. It’s like they want to kill us all little by little.”
Anna sighed and nodded. She believed that was exactly what the Nazis’ plan was, however hard it was for humanitarian minds
like the doctor’s to accept.
Ruth finished the exam and wrote something down in a chart. “She’s pregnant. Were you aware?”
“I knew it, I just knew it by her face,” Anna said, smiling, then she grew serious again as Helene whimpered. Blood was trickling
down her legs.
“She might lose the baby. Besides rest, I’ll try to get her some milk, vitamins, and meat,” Ruth said, applying a compress
to stop the bleeding.
Anna helped to clean the mud and blood off her friend and get her into a clean gown that smelled pleasantly of soap.
Helene’s body ached everywhere, and she was completely unaware of Anna and Ruth gently moving her body. Seconds after they
laid her back down, she fell asleep.
When she woke the next day, she realized that there was an IV in her arm. She looked around but could not figure out where she was.
Ruth came up to the bed and stroked Helene’s forehead. “You’re going to be okay. The bleeding has stopped. We’ll see if you
lose the baby, but it might turn out all right. I’ll keep you here for as long as I can so you can recover.”
It took all of Helene’s energy to speak. “Thank you.”
The doctor placed two books on Helene’s lap. “They’re the only ones I have. One Walter Scott and one Honoré de Balzac. They
say there’s no better way to heal than between the pages of a book.”
Helene touched the spines and started to cry. She had nearly forgotten her previous life and what it was like to hold real
words in her hands. Plus Derek had not answered her letters, and she had to work hard to convince herself that her fears were
not true: that he would not abandon her to avoid putting himself and his family at risk.
“Thank you,” she said again.
Ruth held Helene’s hand in her own. “Now, get some rest so you can get better.”
After three days in the infirmary, Helene started to feel less terrible. The milk and steady diet of food put the color back
in her cheeks and started to fill out her face.
She spent hours reading during the day, and Anna and Alice came by every afternoon to visit. Helene also had long conversations
with Ruth.
“Helene, I have a surprise for you,” Ruth said one day, placing a letter on the bedsheet.
Helene snatched it up hungrily and looked at the sender. It was from Derek.
“I’ll leave you alone with your husband,” Ruth said, backing out of the room.
“Thank you so much. I owe you my life,” Helene said, swallowing back tears.
As soon as she was alone, Helene nervously opened the envelope and pulled out the letter. Some parts were blacked out, but
most could be read easily enough.
My darling,
When I got your letter, it felt like life was worth living again. I’ve tried everything to get you free, but they haven’t
even told me where you’re being held or even if you’re alive.
I love you with all my soul and I’ll keep fighting [blacked out]. Being separated from you has taught me what it means to
have my heart split in two. I have no energy at work, I cry myself to sleep, and I wake up reaching for your side of the bed,
but it’s empty. I’m going to hug you like never before when I finally see you. God will take care of us and bring us back
together.
Your family is doing fine, but your grandmother is sick. She’s in the hospital. Pray for her, sweetie. I’m sorry to tell you
that bad news, but I thought you’d want to know. Everyone else is fine, and at the library [blacked out].
I hope you write back very soon.
The love of your life,
Derek
Tears streamed down Helene’s cheeks. Since she could not embrace Derek, she hugged the letter to her chest in desperation.
She read and reread it several times and ached to see him.
Then she took out pen and paper and started writing.
Her dear husband needed to know that she was carrying his child and that soon he would become the best father in the world.
Derek lost all hope of freeing Helene when the last person he knew to ask for help turned out to be one more door slammed
in his face.
The weight of the past few months bowed his shoulders. He walked aimlessly through the streets of Berlin until he somehow
found himself near the house that had belonged to an old friend of his parents, the man who had helped Derek get situated
when he first moved from Konigsberg to Berlin. The Mollins’ house was in one of the fanciest neighborhoods in the city. They
were from Dirschau but had relocated to Berlin several years before. Bernard Joseph Mollin was a good man, but his charming
wife, Franzisca Paulina Malotka-Trzebiatowski, had loved Derek like the son she never had.
Without even knowing why, Derek knocked at the door. A few moments later, Franzisca herself opened it, as her maid had gone
out to do the shopping.