Chapter Twenty-nine Gunther

TWENTY-NINE : GUNTHER

FORT LINCOLN, NORTH DAKOTA

JUNE 1944

Gunther found Dr. Sonnenberg reading a book in the foyer of the dormitory, waiting for him when he returned from a long day at the hospital.

"You look tired," his mentor said as he placed a scrap of paper between the pages to keep his place. When he closed the cover, Gunther saw it was a copy of Mark Twain's The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn . Residents of Bismarck had generously donated books to create a small library for the internees, many classics among them. With nothing beyond dreary weather, barren landscape, and long boring hours to look forward to day after day, an escape through a good book was much appreciated.

Gunther dropped onto an empty chair. "Dr. Ludwig had me cleaning bedpans and mopping floors again today rather than helping with patients."

Sympathy showed on the older man's face. "I'm sorry. You suffer because of your friendship with me."

Outrage washed over Gunther. "It is ridiculous that McCoy gave in to the Schlageter's demands and removed you from the hospital. You are far more qualified than a man who made his living tending to drunken sailors on an oil tanker."

Dr. Sonnenberg gave Gunther a patient look. "Now, now. Accidents and illnesses arise on ships when they're out to sea, same as on land. Having a doctor onboard could mean the difference between life and death."

Gunther scoffed. "From what I've seen, I'd take my chances rather than have Dr. Ludwig attend me. The man is a clown. He nearly broke the X-ray machine today. One of the levers was jammed, and he beat it with a hammer. Thankfully Nurse Roe intervened before the machine was destroyed."

"Dr. Lipp will not be pleased when he hears about this."

Gunther shook his head. "He's as frustrated as the rest of us with Dr. Ludwig's antics, but McCoy won't listen. I think he fears more what the Schlageter will do if they don't get their way than the complaints against their doctor."

Dr. Sonnenberg looked thoughtful. "I don't believe Mr. McCoy is afraid of the Schlageter, but I do believe he will go to any length to keep peace in camp. He's in a precarious position if you think about it. We aren't prisoners of war, and while the regulations set by the Geneva Convention do pertain to us, they weren't specifically written for our situation. Most of us are not American citizens, so the rights stated in the Declaration of Independence don't apply either. Although, as we've seen with Japanese American internees, the government has treated them as badly as they've treated us." He looked at Gunther. "I'm Jewish, and the Schlageter hate Jews. Neither of those facts are going to change."

"That may be true," Gunther said, "but the behavior of those men only gets worse when McCoy gives in to their demands."

As the sun disappeared below the horizon, they made their way to the mess hall for dinner. Delicious aromas and noise met them when they entered. Most of the men had already eaten but remained in the great room to socialize. Gunther had to admit one positive thing about Fort Lincoln was the food. Unlike at Camp Forrest, where they ate the same American fare as the soldiers, Mr. McCoy had assigned German cooks to prepare food for the internees. They enjoyed authentic German dishes like Schnitzel with mushroom gravy, Sp?tzle , and Apfelkuchen for dessert. It made him long for Mutter 's cooking.

His mind was still on her when they carried their trays to an empty table near the back of the crowded room.

"You look troubled," Dr. Sonnenberg said.

Gunther noticed his friend's plate held only vegetables, and he remembered their discussion about Jewish practices regarding food and food preparation. Dr. Sonnenberg did the best he could to keep to his traditions without starving.

"I was thinking about Mutter . I haven't heard from her since I arrived at Fort Lincoln." He lowered his voice so only his friend could hear. "With everything going on in Germany, I worry."

Dr. Sonnenberg gave a solemn nod. "I too have loved ones I am concerned for. The last I knew, my brother and his family were safe in Switzerland, but I do not know about my sister's family. No one has heard from them since the war began."

They discussed the latest news from Europe as they ate. Near the end of their meal, loud voices rose from across the room.

When Gunther glanced over, he saw members of the Schlageter, including Wolfgang Schmidt, harassing a new internee. The young man—wasn't his name Karl?—was a teacher and offered to give classes in English at the Schule , held on the second floor of Building61, where instruction was conducted by qualified internees on subjects ranging from chemistry to philosophy. Many detainees eagerly signed up for Karl's class, but the group of Nazi supporters did not approve. They declared it traitorous to speak any language other than German, most especially English.

The usual din of conversation in the mess hall grew quiet as the argument escalated.

"You are a disgrace to your family," one of the Schlageter bellowed, standing face to face with Karl. To that young man's credit, he remained where he was rather than backing away. "The Führer himself demands that German citizens speak only our mother language. Why do you disobey our esteemed leader?"

Gunther couldn't hear Karl's low, calm reply, but it clearly infuriated the other man.

Before anyone could stop it from happening, his balled fist slammed into Karl's face. Blood spurted from Karl's nose as he stumbled backwards and landed on his backside.

While the men of the Schlageter laughed and cheered, Dr. Sonnenberg rose from his seat and hurried over to Karl. Gunther followed. Everyone else in the large room stayed where they were, unwilling to put themselves at risk.

"Get away from him, Jew," the furious man yelled when Dr. Sonnenberg knelt beside Karl.

"He needs medical attention," the doctor said. Ignoring the sailor, he took a handkerchief from his pocket and applied it to Karl's bloody nose. That young man seemed dazed by the blow, his eyes unfocused.

"Get your hands off him, Jewish dog." The sailor took a menacing step toward Dr. Sonnenberg, but Gunther put himself between his friend and the angry man.

"We are taking Karl to the hospital." He kept his voice firm and his eyes steady on his opponent. When Wolfgang and another man from the Schlageter approached, Gunther didn't budge.

Dr. Sonnenberg helped Karl to his feet.

The Nazi supporters looked ready to fight, but thankfully Boyd, a border patrolman, arrived on the tense scene, led by one of Karl's students who'd obviously gone for help.

"What's going on?" The armed guard eyed the group. He held a rifle in both hands, ready should anyone make a move. "Why is this man bleeding?"

The sailor who'd slugged Karl narrowed his eyes on Gunther, a clear warning to keep silent. Despite the unspoken threat, Gunther was not going to let him get away with his brutality.

"This man attacked Karl for no reason," Gunther said, identifying the angry sailor. "Everyone here witnessed it."

Boyd glanced around the circle of men, sizing up the situation.

Finally he turned to Gunther. "Take him to the hospital." His attention then landed on the sailor. "You, come with me. The rest of you back away." He raised his rifle, ensuring everyone cooperated.

Gunther and Dr. Sonnenberg got on either side of Karl, with his arms over their shoulders, and carried him from the mess hall. Boyd and the sailor were steps behind. When they turned toward the guardhouse, the sailor shouted at Gunther in German, "You'll regret this!"

Gunther ignored the remark and continued to the hospital. Dr. Ludwig was just leaving the building when they arrived.

"What happened to him?" he asked, studying Karl's swollen, bloody nose. When they told him about the brawl, the man looked annoyed. "Dr. Lipp isn't here, and I am on my way to eat my dinner. Put him in a room. I'll tend to him when I get back."

Irritation washed over Gunther. "He needs attention now."

Dr. Ludwig huffed. "Very well. Sonnenberg, take care of him. If anyone questions why you're here, tell them I authorized it." He turned and left the building.

Gunther and Dr. Sonnenberg looked at each other and shook their heads.

"He certainly believes himself important, does he not?" Dr. Sonnenberg said.

"I'd rather have you tend me, sir," Karl mumbled.

Dr. Sonnenberg nodded. "I am happy to do so, son."

They cleaned Karl's face, but unfortunately there wasn't much Dr. Sonnenberg could do about his broken nose. Only time would heal it.

"Do you want me to try to straighten the bone?" he asked Karl. "It will be painful but will only last a short time."

The young man frowned. "If you don't straighten it, will I look deformed for the rest of my life?"

Dr. Sonnenberg offered a gentle smile. "I can't promise it will look like it did before, but you're a handsome fellow. The girls will still swoon, no matter if your nose is a bit crooked."

Karl chuckled, then cringed, obviously in pain. "Might as well try to straighten it." He gripped the edge of the examination table where he sat. "Go ahead."

Dr. Sonnenberg skillfully pushed the bone into place so quickly, Karl barely had time to let out a yelp. The doctor packed it with gauze, with instructions to remove it once Karl was back in his room and flat on his back.

"You will need to keep ice on it to help with the swelling." Gunther took a bottle of aspirin from a cabinet and poured six tablets into a small envelope. "Take a couple of these to help you sleep tonight," he said, handing the packet to Karl. "Aspirin can cause the blood to thin, so we don't want you to take too many."

"Thank you, both of you," Karl said, a nasal tone to his words. His nose had almost doubled in size. "I don't know why those men are so upset about me teaching English. I am as grateful for my German heritage as they are, but I can't pretend to be proud of our country and its leaders." He looked at Dr. Sonnenberg. "I don't agree with what they are doing to Jews."

Dr. Sonnenberg placed a hand on the young man's shoulder. "Thank you, son."

They bid Karl good night. Gunther disposed of the soiled cloths while Dr. Sonnenberg sterilized the instruments he'd used. It was dark when they made their way back to the dormitory, chatting quietly about the incident.

Neither of them saw the men in the shadows until it was too late.