Chapter Thirty-Two Gunther

THIRTY-TWO : GUNTHER

FORT LINCOLN, NORTH DAKOTA

JULY 1944

Gunther stood at the entrance to the hospital and checked his watch for the umpteenth time.

It was nearly noon.

Dr. Lipp had promised to come by after he and his family attended a Sunday morning church service in town to check on Dr. Sonnenberg. That the American doctor would come to the camp on his day off, rather than leave his patient in the care of Dr. Ludwig, spoke of the man's concern for his Jewish colleague. He'd performed emergency surgery on Dr. Sonnenberg to stop internal bleeding the night of the beating, but the injured man remained in critical condition in the weeks following. Now a fever had spiked during the night, and Gunther feared infection.

He returned to the small room at the end of the hall where Dr.Sonnenberg had been since the beating. The older man suffered broken bones during the assault, and his body refused to heal. While Mr. McCoy had the men responsible locked in solitary confinement for thirty days, Gunther didn't believe the punishment severe enough. The sailors should be arrested by the local authorities and tried for attempted murder in a court of law.

"Dr. Sonnenberg?" Gunther said softly.

The older man's eyes fluttered open. "I told you to get some rest," he said, his voice rough from disuse.

"I'll rest when you are better." Gunther settled in the chair next to the bed, noticing that his professor shivered despite the warmth of the room and layers of blankets. "Dr. Lipp will be here soon. You need antibiotics, but no one is willing to administer them without his or Dr. Ludwig's approval. As usual, that clown is sleeping off a night at the canteen and is of no use." He didn't confess he'd tried to sneak a vial of penicillin out of the locked medicine cabinet earlier, but Nurse Roe caught him. She understood his dilemma, but there were rules in place they must follow.

Dr. Sonnenberg grimaced. "I'm afraid it is too late for me," he said, his gaze unwavering. "I can feel my body shutting down."

"I won't listen to that kind of talk. Dr. Lipp is coming, and he'll know what to do."

"If you recall," Dr. Sonnenberg said with a weak smile, "I am a doctor too."

Gunther raised his brow. "And do you let your patients diagnose themselves?"

His mentor chuckled, then groaned. After a time, he said, "I've been thinking about what Paul wrote in his letter to his friend, Timothy, declaring the time for his departure from this world was at hand."

Gunther knew the passage. They'd read it together and had a lively discussion about what Paul meant when he said he'd fought a good fight . "He told Timothy he'd finished his course and had kept the faith."

Dr. Sonnenberg's brow furrowed. "Yes, that is the part that confuses me. He was Jewish, as am I, yet the faith he spoke of was not the beliefs he'd been taught from boyhood but were those of a new religion. A belief in Jesus of Nazareth as the long-awaited One." He sighed. "I admit I do not feel the peace Paul experienced when I contemplate the end of my life."

"Then do not do so," Gunther said. "Let us focus on getting you strong and well, then we can discuss the mysteries of life and death while we wait for this infernal war to end."

Dr. Lipp arrived soon after their discussion. He conducted a thorough examination, ending with a grim expression on his face.

"You need not say it, Dr. Lipp," Dr. Sonnenberg said. "I know."

Gunther glanced between the two. "What is it?"

"Sepsis," Dr. Lipp said. "I'll take a blood sample to be certain, but all of the symptoms are presenting."

Gunther stared at the man. He knew the condition was deadly.

Dr. Lipp ordered antibiotics and an IV drip of fluids. Nurse Roe and two other nurses crowded around the bed, tending to Dr. Sonnenberg, while Gunther stood in the corner, helpless.

When the room emptied and it was just the two of them again, he found his mentor's gaze fixed on him.

"Listen to me," he said, his voice raspy and weak. Gunther came forward and took Dr. Sonnenberg's feverish hand. "I am grateful for our time together. You have been like a son to me, Gunther Schneider."

Gunther's eyes filled. "I am not ready to say goodbye. I need you to get better."

Dr. Sonnenberg tightened his grip. "And I need you to be strong. After the war, I want you to finish school and become a doctor."

Gunther nodded, although his heart broke at the thought of losing his mentor.

He stayed with Dr. Sonnenberg through the long night. By daybreak, he knew the end was near.

"I have been thinking," the older man said, his voice barely audible. Gunther grasped his frail hand and leaned close. "If a good Jewish man like Paul was convinced Jesus is the Messiah, I too can believe in him."

Tears clouded Gunther's vision. "Remember what Jesus said to the criminal on the cross next to him?"

Dr. Sonnenberg's entire body relaxed. "Today shalt thou be with me in paradise."

A moment later, he was gone.

· · ·

After Dr. Sonnenberg died, Gunther withdrew from camp life. He quit his job at the hospital and spent the long, monotonous days in his room reading or walking the fence line by himself. Mr. McCoy didn't assign him a new roommate, for which Gunther was grateful, but his loneliness and depression only increased over time. He didn't bother to shave and seldom took the trouble to bathe. The men in his barracks avoided him, and even the Schlageter had the decency to leave him alone in his grief.

Months passed.

In February, news reached them that Heinz Fengler, the internee who escaped last October, was found in New Orleans. A week later, six-hundred-fifty Japanese internees arrived at Fort Lincoln, transferred from camps in California and New Mexico. Although they were housed in a separate part of the camp, the German internees were abuzz about the new residents.

By the first of April, newspapers predicted Germany and the Third Reich would soon fall. Gunther worried about his mother and brother, praying they'd survive the bombings. On May 1,the shocking news of Hitler's suicide swept through camp. While the Schlageter mourned the death of their Führer, Gunther felt the tiniest shred of hope that the war would truly come to an end.

He woke to bright sunshine and shouting on the eighth day of May.

"The war in Europe is over! It's over!"

Gunther, like the rest of the internees, wondered what this meant for them. While Germany had surrendered, the war against Japan still raged in the Pacific. It could take months or even years to bring that faraway conflict to an end.

No one could have foreseen what took place on August6 and again on August9.

News of the atomic bombs quickly spread through camp. Gunther stood in the yard with the other German internees, stunned to learn how many lives were lost. Across the fence, the Japanese internees grieved the horrific destruction in silence. When Japan finally surrendered five days later, the celebrations were subdued. While everyone was grateful the war was finally over, the devastation it had wrought throughout the world was sobering.

Gunther lay in his bunk that night, thinking about Ava.

He hadn't written to her since Dr. Sonnenberg died. Couldn't bear to put the sad news in writing. She hadn't known his friend, and he couldn't expect her to grieve his loss, but she was never far from his thoughts.

What would she do now that the war was over? Already rumors had begun to circulate that camps like Fort Lincoln would eventually close. He guessed the same fate would take place at Camp Forrest, leaving her without a job. Would she stay in Tullahoma? In Tennessee?

A new fear circled his mind.

What if she'd met someone? Was that the reason she'd stopped writing to him?

He glanced at the small desk in the corner, moonlight illuminating a stack of books and Dr. Sonnenberg's fountain pen.

Should he write to her?

He had no news regarding what his future held—when or if he would be released—nor did he know her situation or feelings. But if he didn't try, he would always regret it.

Gunther clicked on the desk lamp. After settling in the chair, he stared at a blank page of paper a long time before he picked up the pen.

My Dearest Ava,

I know it has been some time since I last wrote. There is much to tell of all that has happened, but I will wait to share the details with you in person.

The purpose of this letter is singular.

Ava, I love you. I have from the moment we first met. When I am once again a free man, will you marry me?

I anxiously await your answer.

Yours forever,

Gunther Schneider

The note was short and inadequate, but it expressed the two most important things he wanted her to know. He loved her and wanted her to become his wife. But time and distance were his enemies. Would she believe he was sincere?

His eyes fell on his Bible.

Yes, he thought. He would send the letter tucked between the pages of the Book his Mutter gave him. Despite all that had happened, he still believed in God's goodness. Still believed in God's sovereignty.

He would leave his future, and Ava's, in God's hands.

Gunther turned out the light and slept soundly for the first time in months.