Chapter 12

Hedi, Brigitte, and Jo were so comfortable at St. Blaise and the nuns so kind that they stayed for several weeks, longer than they expected, tasting the delights of freedom again, and recovering from their escape. They went for walks in the rolling hills, played with the children, helped in the kitchen, and did errands for the nuns in their ancient truck. It startled them to see Sophia in her habit now, and they teased her about it. It was better than her prison uniform, but Jo thought her so beautiful, it irked her to see her hide her womanhood in a habit. She thought her too young to renounce the opportunities life hadn't even given her yet. She was twenty-three years old and hadn't given life a chance. To Sophia, it felt like a homecoming when she put on the habit of the Order of Saint Blaise. She felt safe in it, and protected. It was one of the many things she had missed at the camp, along with freedom, and food, and safety, and sleep, and being able to be warm at night. There had been so many things she missed, and so many hardships. She thought of the other inmates often, and how many of them died of illness and abuse every day.

She enjoyed playing with the children at the convent and read stories to them. Jo played the piano for them and taught them songs before she left. She wanted to go home to France and had borrowed a small amount from the convent to get there. They had a small fund to help the needy. She was from Paris, but with the German occupation for the past two years, she couldn't go home. Now she wanted to settle in the remaining free zone in France. It was part of the agreement the French had signed with the Germans. It was a small area in the south, governed by Marshal Pétain in Vichy. She wanted to get out of Germany. It had nothing but bad memories for her.

Brigitte felt the same way, but she had nowhere else to go. Her modeling career was over, with the scars on her face the SS torture had left her with. She didn't have parents, and her aunt and uncle had offered to house her in Munich and give her a job in their restaurant. They knew what happened to her because of her Jewish boyfriend, and had sent her the money to come to Munich and stay with them when she contacted them from St. Blaise. It wasn't the life she wanted, but she had few job opportunities now with her damaged face, and anything was better than Ravensbrück. She was grateful to be alive. She didn't think she'd run into anyone she knew in Munich, so she felt safe there with her new identity and new name. And her aunt and uncle were willing to house her, even with false papers. Max's forgeries were excellent and had never been questioned. She was going to ask a doctor to try to improve the scars on her face. And she had told her aunt and uncle that she would rather die than go back to Ravensbrück.

Hedi was going to meet up with her old artist friends who had moved to Lisbon, which seemed like a safe place to her. One of them had offered to lend her the money to get there, and she was going to stay away from political art and satire in the future.

Only Sophia was staying close to home. She didn't call or write to her sister, because she didn't want anyone to be able to trace her to the convent. She hadn't written to Mother Regina in Berlin for the same reason. And she didn't want to sit the war out in Switzerland with Theresa and Heinrich in their elegant home. Although she hadn't said so openly, she had sensed from Mother Paul that they still engaged with others to move children to safety, and she was willing to risk that again. She wanted to. She felt it was her mission, although she had paid a high price for it for nearly the past year. She hadn't chosen to be a nun for the easy life she would lead, but for the good she could do in the world.

She was sad when her friends left at the end of July but she was grateful that they had all reached freedom together, except Tamar. The beatings she had weathered, and the harsh conditions and starvation, had just taken too great a toll. They would never know what happened to her son now, but Sophia prayed he was still alive and would survive the war. There were so many like him, that no one knew where they were or what happened to them, and so many who would never come back. Some of them were so young, their lives cut short in concentration camps all over Germany and Poland, Auschwitz being the most dangerous among the camps now, where thousands of inmates, mostly Jews, were being exterminated. There was little chance of survival there.

Five weeks after her old bunkmates left, a Dutch nun came to the convent to bring two children to safety, and told the nuns what had happened to Sister Teresa Benedicta of the Cross, Edith Stein in secular life. She had been arrested in the Netherlands at the beginning of August, with her sister Rosa and two hundred and forty-three converted Jews. They had been briefly incarcerated in Amersfoort and Westerbork concentration camps in Holland and had been sent to Auschwitz subsequently. Sister Teresa had been put to death three days after she arrived. All of the nuns were deeply saddened to hear it. She had been a brave, admirable woman and seemed like a modern-day saint to Sophia. Sister Teresa was one of the most profoundly spiritual and religious people whose work Sophia had ever read, and she was deeply moved to learn of her death. Stein had been willing to die for her beliefs for years, and had never hidden. And now they had killed her. But in Sophia's opinion, hers was a voice that would never be silenced. She had talked to her father about Edith Stein too. Sophia considered her one of the great intellects of their time, and a powerful activist for noble causes. She had taken a firm and outspoken stand against the Nazis, and was killed for it.

Mass murder of Jews was being committed at Auschwitz in the gas chambers, and Edith Stein was just one more victim, but a strong and outspoken voice against Hitler nonetheless.

The rest of the war news that summer was mostly about battles in Russia and North Africa, and an American air attack in Europe, vilified in the German press. And later in the year, Sophia read of the Reich's outrage that the British Foreign Secretary had spoken of the Reich's mass execution of Jews in Auschwitz as something horrific, instead of praising them for it, and thanking them.

Sophia's months at the convent of St. Blaise had been peaceful since her heroic escape from Ravensbrück. She had gained some weight and looked healthier. The nightmares she'd had for months had begun to recede, and she enjoyed her time with the children. No new orphans had arrived since the two Dutch children, and Sophia felt guilty that she wasn't doing more to counter the atrocities of the Nazis, but Mother Paul thought she should rest. Her life in the peaceful countryside was doing her good, after eight months of trauma and torture. She went for long walks alone, and walked along the edge of the woods in Ahnsbeck, which was a small, peaceful, medieval town. It was only four hours' drive from Berlin but seemed light-years away.

She felt mildly guilty too about not using her nursing skills, but the nuns needed her help for small tasks at the convent, and she was happy to assist them. She helped make Christmas decorations with the children, and she and the nuns knitted sweaters for the children and made small gifts for them. It was a very different Christmas for her than the year before in Ravensbrück.

A month later, early one morning, after Matins with the other nuns in their small community, she was walking along the edge of the woods, and heard an odd sound, a moan like an injured animal or bird. She looked around and didn't see anything on the ground. Then she heard the sound again, just above her head, looked up, and found herself standing just below a parachute that had gotten caught in the tree branches, with a man dangling from it who appeared to be unconscious. She was frozen in place for a moment, and then called up to him softly, not wanting to draw the attention of anyone passing by. She didn't recognize it, but the man's uniform didn't look German to her. The man wearing it looked dead or unconscious, and only the soft moans he occasionally made suggested that he was still alive. She took another look, picked up the skirts of her habit, and ran back to the convent as fast as she could to find Mother Paul. She had to run a long way. She had walked a good distance from the convent.

Mother Paul was helping the other nuns to make the children's beds. They had just gotten up and were downstairs having breakfast. Sophia came to her quickly and asked to speak to her alone, and she told her what she'd seen.

"I don't think he's German, and he's still alive. We need to cut him down before someone finds him."

"American, maybe," Mother Paul said, frowning. "They bombed Wilhelmshaven last night. I heard it on the wireless this morning. I'll get the boys." Andy and Arthur, two strong young men from neighboring farms who helped them with heavy tasks, were there. Both had been rejected by the army. They had seen the children come and go from the convent for many years, guessed what the nuns were doing, and had always been discreet. The nuns knew they could trust them.

Both of the young men had been trying to move a heavy piece of rusted old farm equipment behind the chapel. Mother Paul found them quickly, and told them to bring the truck, a tarp, and a couple of sharp knives. Sophia had gotten blankets. From what she had seen, they would have to cut the man out of the tree and dispose of the parachute.

With the two boys and both nuns in the truck, they drove to where Sophia directed them, parked a little distance away in a clump of trees, and then walked into the woods, where Sophia looked up and pointed. The flier was still there, and no longer moaning. She assumed he must have spent the night there and was probably half frozen.

"Andy, you need to get up the tree and cut him down," Sophia said in a soft voice, directing the younger, more agile one, who was still of an age to climb trees, "and Arthur and I will catch him when he comes down." The young men were seventeen and twenty and strong enough to get him down. The airman appeared to be lifeless, and Sophia could already see that one leg had bled through his uniform, but it was impossible to assess from the ground how badly he was injured, or even if he was still breathing. He looked dead.

Andy shimmied up the tree with ease and cut the strings attaching the man to the parachute. "He's going to come down," Andy warned them, and Arthur braced himself to catch the man, with Sophia ready to help and holding blankets to cover him. Arthur made a masterful catch, as though the airman were a rag doll, and they could see the American flag patch on his flight suit and the stripes of his rank. He never regained consciousness as Arthur carried him to the truck, laid him on the blankets Sophia spread out, and covered him with the tarp so he was hidden from view. Andy then went further up the tree to free the parachute and cut it out. He had all of it down in minutes and joined them at the truck, while Mother Paul watched the entire operation. Sophia felt for a pulse and the airman still had one although it was weak and thready, and he felt ice-cold to the touch. She was suddenly reminded of the night she had helped her father warm the little Jewish boy who was being hidden and concealed himself in the icy pond on Christmas.

"Let's get back to the convent fast," Sophia said. And as soon as they did, Mother Paul instructed Andy to bury the parachute, and he got out a shovel to do it, while Arthur carried the airman down to the cellar safe room, hidden under the floor. It was where Sophia and her bunkmates had been hidden until Max had finished their travel papers and new identities. The room was completely hidden. Arthur eased down the stairs carrying the big man, with Sophia right behind him, and Mother Paul brought two lamps down and lit them. They didn't provide a bright light, but Sophia could see enough to examine the man. She rubbed his hands to try and warm them, kept the blankets around him, and unzipped his flight suit carefully, not sure what she'd find, or even if he'd been shot before he exited his plane.

His body was intact, from what she could see, barring internal injuries which she couldn't assess yet, but his left lower leg was covered in blood, and his ankle bone was protruding. He had a compound fracture, and she had no way of knowing how long he'd been hanging there. She suspected he was suffering from hypothermia as well. That combined with shock and whatever had happened in the plane and right after, there was a good chance he wouldn't survive.

She turned to Mother Paul and spoke in a calm voice. "We need a doctor." The nuns had one they trusted in Ahnsbeck. "Tell him we have a compound fracture of an adult male, probable hypothermia, possible internal injuries, and maybe a concussion. He's unconscious and has a weak pulse." Mother Paul nodded and left quickly. The nuns of St. Blaise were all teachers, none of them nurses. Sophia was the only nurse in the convent, and Mother Paul was impressed by how smooth and efficient she was as she continued to assess the pilot and keep him warm. She asked for more blankets and one of the nuns brought them, with a hot-water bottle she had thought to bring.

"Thank you," Sophia said, and tucked it in next to the patient, as she continued to examine him inch by inch. So far, the worst injury she had found was the ankle, the rest of him seemed uninjured. She was still checking him as he gave a groan and opened his eyes. He saw Sophia and looked around, surprised.

"Where am I? Do you speak English?"

"Yes, I do," she said, looking at his eyes to see if he had a concussion. Her father had made her take English in school, and she had studied it as well in nursing school, to learn the medical terms. She had an accent, but she was fluent. "You're in Germany." She knew that wouldn't be good news, judging by his uniform. "But you're safe. We have you hidden. No one saw us cut you down from the tree your parachute was caught in. And a doctor is on the way."

"My name is Theodore Blake, Captain, Squadron Leader." He gave his serial number then and said nothing more, in case he was about to be taken prisoner in enemy territory. He was clearheaded enough to give the required information and stop there.

"Did you hit your head, Captain Blake, before or after you left the plane?" He didn't answer at first, saw that she was a nun, and his tone softened slightly.

"I don't think so."

"Do you know how long you were in the tree?"

"I must have been there all night," he said, slowly getting warmer from the hot-water bottle and the blankets. He could see that she had unzipped his flight suit and removed his helmet, and he looked worried.

"My name is Sister Anne, and I'm a nurse. You're in a convent, and the doctor who is coming is trustworthy. You should be in a hospital, but we'll take care of you here. You're in an underground safe room." He gave her a half smile at the details.

"Thank you, Sister," he said, and closed his eyes for a minute, and then opened them again and looked at her. "How did you find me?"

"I heard you moan when I was walking near the woods, and I looked up, and there you were, a rather large bird stuck in a tree," she said, and he laughed at her description.

"Thank you for finding me and getting me down. I don't suppose the welcome would have been quite so friendly if the German army found me."

"Probably not," she said, as Dr. Strauss came down the stairs with Mother Paul. "Here's the doctor to see you, Captain." She was formal and respectful, and the airman raised his head to look at the doctor, and then at Sophia again.

"Does he speak English?" Captain Blake asked her.

"I don't think so. I'll translate." She explained the condition they'd found him in, and told the doctor about the ankle. He glanced at it, winced, and told her it was a good thing she called. The patient could lose a foot if it got infected or if gangrene set in. She didn't translate the last of the message to Blake. "He said it's good that we called him." The captain nodded and lay flat again while the doctor examined him more thoroughly than Sophia had. She could see he was in pain and trying not to show it. Together, Sophia and the doctor managed to remove the flight suit. There were some bruises and a few scratches on the captain's face from the tree branches. The doctor checked his full body for broken bones, and the only major problem he could see was the ankle, which was a serious injury, as Sophia had seen immediately. They were going to have to ease the bone back in, which would be painful, sew him up, and cast it, no small feat in a cellar safe room with dim lighting. Anticipating the doctor, Sophia asked Mother Paul for more lamps. She came back with two more, as Dr. Strauss shared his plan with Sophia, and she translated it to Blake, while trying to make it sound less ominous and complicated than it was.

"With your permission, he'd like to give you a mild anesthetic to set the leg, in order to get the bone straight. It's liable to be painful, but it's important so you don't wind up with a limp," or lose the foot, she didn't add.

"As long as I don't lose the leg," he said.

"That's not going to happen. The procedure isn't easy, but my father was a surgeon and I've seen this done a number of times. I know you're among strangers in enemy territory, but I'd go for the anesthetic. This won't take too long, but you need to lie very still." Based on her early assessment, the doctor had brought a bottle of ether and a mask, plaster to cast the ankle, an injection of morphine to make the patient sleepy, and enough local anesthetic to make the procedure bearable. It was one of the few drugs he could still get enough of on the black market, for farming injuries.

"Do whatever you have to," the airman said, turning his head away and closing his eyes while the doctor administered the morphine shot. He would have liked to give the airman a tetanus shot as well, but there was none available. It all went to the military. He then injected the local anesthetic, cleaned the wound thoroughly with kerosene, covered the wound with a pad soaked in alcohol, and washed the surrounding area with soap and water. Blake was already half asleep and mumbling as the doctor proceeded through each step meticulously and Sophia assisted him ably. He painted the surrounding skin with iodine to keep it sterile, and flushed the wound with ether, and then iodine. He then instructed Sophia to administer the ether with the mask, while he carefully replaced the bone, and closed the skin with loose sutures to allow for swelling and drainage. And he finally applied a sterile dressing, and Sophia removed the mask of ether. The patient was still sound asleep, while the doctor encased the ankle in a plaster cast, with a window he cut into it for dressing changes. He did the best he could in the circumstances, and Sophia was impressed by what a neat and thorough job he had done. He told Sophia in German that he would have liked to put a couple of pins in the ankle, but he didn't have the necessary material to do it, so it would be crucial for the patient to keep it immobilized for six to eight weeks, with no weight on it whatsoever. And they would have to watch the wound carefully for the next three days, to check for signs of infection, which could be very dangerous. He promised to bring the airman crutches, but he didn't want him out of bed for the next five days, so there was no rush for the crutches, and he would check him daily. Sophia was to call him with any sign of infection or unusual pain, and particularly a fever. The doctor had been impressed by her efficient assistance, and hadn't known she was a nurse.

"I'm a surgical nurse by training," she explained. "My father was a surgeon."

"You did a good job." He smiled at her before he left.

"So did you," she complimented him, as Blake stirred and started to wake up, and looked groggy and disoriented, which was normal from the morphine and the trauma.

"How do you feel?" she asked him in a gentle voice.

"Drunk. Like I drank a bottle of whiskey."

"I'm afraid we don't have any of that." She smiled at him. "The doctor did a very good job. He said you have to keep the leg still, without weight bearing for six to eight weeks. So, welcome to Germany, Captain. It looks like you'll be here for a while." But at least he wasn't dead, which could easily have happened. If no one had found him for another day or two, or even several hours, he wouldn't have survived. The doctor had saved the ankle and his foot, and Sophia saved his life when she found him.

"I need to get back to my squadron," he said with a groan.

"I'm sure you do. But you're lucky this wasn't worse. We'll take good care of you. I promise."

"You already have," he said weakly, feeling woozy. He had been through a lot, when his plane was hit by artillery, and since. He was lucky to be alive. He looked at her again then and smiled. "You look like an angel," he said, and she smiled too.

"I think you're a little drunk from the sedation."

"You do. Just like an angel. With a halo."

"Only because you don't know me. Now you need to get some sleep. And when you wake up, we'll get you something to eat. But first, sleep. And that's an order."

"Are you the boss here?" he asked, still a little giddy. She knew he probably wouldn't remember anything he had said to her when the drugs wore off.

"No, Mother Paul is. She's the Mother Superior. I'm just a lowly foot soldier."

"And I'm the captain," he slurred. "Theodore Blake, Squadron Leader. You can call me Ted." And with that, he drifted off to sleep, she covered him with another blanket, and turned off two of the lamps.

The doctor had left by then, and Mother Paul came to check on them shortly after. "How is he?" she whispered. Sophia was sitting in a straight-backed chair, quietly watching him. He was in a deep sleep still from the morphine the doctor had given him. He had left some pills for the pain for Sophia to give him when he woke up.

"Pretty out of it, but at least he's not in pain, and he didn't die. He could have, hanging up there." Or been shot if a patrol had seen him. But they didn't come by often here. It was a quiet community, with peaceful farms, and the nuns who ran the orphanage were above suspicion and seemed harmless, and all of the orphans had papers that said they were Aryan.

"Dr. Strauss says you're an excellent nurse," Mother Paul told her.

"Thank you." Sophia smiled at her. "He did a beautiful job. I'm going to sit with the captain all day today to make sure he doesn't have any complications or run a fever or try to get out of bed." With the morphine and the local anesthetic, he wouldn't feel the pain of the wound for a while, and could injure himself.

"I can sit with him tonight after the children go to sleep. We can take it in shifts," Mother Paul offered.

"Dr. Strauss says he's here for six to eight weeks, if he heals well, if there are no complications." It was a long time to conceal an enemy airman.

"We'll just have to manage," Mother Paul said with a tired smile. She had handled it well too, and getting him out of the tree had been a smooth operation with the two young men helping. "Thank you, Sister," she said to Sophia in a whisper, and left the room, as Sophia sat on the room's only chair, and said her prayers as she watched him. It would be a long six or eight weeks nursing him, but it was what she was trained for, and it felt good to be nursing again.

It had been so long since she'd done it. And he seemed like a decent man so far. He was so tall that his feet hung off the end of the bed, and she had propped them up with a little table that was next to the bed, with a spare pillow on it. She had a feeling that as young and strong as he looked, he would be a handful when he started to feel better. She turned off the second lamp then so there was only a dim light in the room, and she sat quietly in her chair as Captain Theodore Blake, Squadron Leader, slept. For now, she was his nurse and he was her patient. It had been an exciting morning. She closed her eyes, and dozed for a minute too. It had been a long time since she'd used her skills as a nurse, since her arrest, and it was rewarding to feel useful again. Captain Blake had her full attention. She only slept for a few minutes, and then observed him quietly, as she said her prayers.