Chapter 3

Thomas kept Sophia busy working in the surgical theater, where he taught her something every day. She continued visiting her friends at the convent at night, which he was unaware of, since he always worked late, checking post-surgical patients himself before he went home, or spending the night if he wasn't satisfied with their condition.

On the nights Sophia wasn't working or visiting the Sisters of Mercy, she continued attending meetings of dissidents, which changed locations occasionally if they thought the police were beginning to suspect their meeting places. She learned at the meetings that some of the participants took more active roles, and they talked about safe houses for children in the countryside, and paths into Switzerland across the mountains, which were extremely dangerous. There were trails into Alsace in France too, but France wasn't as safe as Switzerland. Getting into Switzerland safely was a Herculean task, which many didn't survive because of border patrols on the German side, and arduous conditions due to the difficult terrain, weather, and other unpredictable elements. Several of the "guides" had been killed escorting people through.

Sophia was fascinated by it the more she heard about it, and she wished she were brave enough to be a guide, but she wasn't sure she was, and she didn't know the mountains well.

One of the friends she made at the meetings had been a guide for nearly a year. He had been a ski instructor before the war, and a mountain climber as well. His name was Claus. None of them knew each other's last names. He was twenty-four years old, and Sophia saw him regularly at meetings. He was tall, blond, and handsome, a perfect Aryan specimen. He had been rejected by the army because he'd had severe asthma as a child, and had used it as a plausible excuse to avoid serving an army he detested and wanted nothing to do with.

He had successfully taken five groups across the mountains in the last six months. Sophia thought he was a hero and enjoyed talking to him at meetings. He was impressed that she showed up so faithfully. They had coffee together afterward a few times, but he never asked her out, and she didn't expect him to. They weren't there for romance. They were there because they believed in a cause.

She had also learned of another hero recently from the Sisters of Mercy, a woman named Edith Stein, a devoted intellectual, born Jewish, who had entered a Carmelite order of nuns in 1934 in Cologne, and was a strong opponent of the Nazis. Her sister had also joined a Carmelite order as an extern sister. Four years later, in 1938, feeling that the risk was too great for Edith Stein in Germany, the convent had transferred her and her sister to a Carmelite convent in the Netherlands, where Edith was writing and teaching as Sister Teresa Benedicta of the Cross. She was a brave woman and an outspoken critic of the Reich, which Sophia admired tremendously. There seemed to be so many heroes in the making, including her friend Claus.

And all the while, Sophia went on working as a nurse at her father's hospital, feeling she wasn't doing enough to counter the evils of the Reich.

Her father never told her but in October, a month after war was declared, one of his military patients, a general of the Reich, had made an appointment with him for a consultation. They chatted at some length about the direction the war was taking. It took the general nearly an hour to get to the point, after closely questioning Thomas's loyalty to the Reich, and his feelings about the scourge of Jews the Führer wanted eradicated. The general then confided that they had begun a program to speed up the process and euthanize "undesirable German citizens," who were either physically or mentally disabled, or who simply did not belong in German society in the current climate, given the Führer's dedication to the purification of the German race.

At first, Thomas thought he had misheard him, or misunderstood.

"Euthanize them? Kill them?" Thomas asked, wide-eyed.

"Yes, painlessly of course, by injection. We have centers where we send them now. But you have an ideal setup here, to help us speed up the process, to dispose of more controversial cases where discretion is advised." Clearly someone who was well known and was not supportive of the Reich. A quick visit to Dr. Alexander's private hospital, a lethal injection, and problem solved. Thomas was stunned. They were even more evil than he thought, and more efficient.

"Who decides this?" Thomas asked, amazed. "Is there a legal process involved?"

"It's not necessary. We decide who are the enemies of the Reich. We are in the best position to judge. And in some cases, sending them to a euthanasia center would be unwise. You're here in Berlin, a loyal supporter of the Reich, and your center is perfect for us. In your case, only for special situations of course. It wouldn't affect your flow of patients, or the people you see normally. We all need you fully operative." The general smiled at him, and Thomas felt as though he was watching devil's horns grow from the general's head while he spoke. It was the most shocking abuse Thomas had ever heard of for the practice of an honorable physician, seeking to heal not harm. "My brother-in-law's knees have been fully operative since you operated on him, and my right elbow is fully mobile now. The military provides us with wonderful medical care, but there are some geniuses like you who stand out. This would only take minutes of your time occasionally and not impact the efficiency of the center at all."

Thomas was silent for what seemed like a long time as he sought the words to respond, without getting shot at close range across his desk and being accused of treason. But he could not be a traitor to his morals and his code of ethics, to satisfy the bloodlust of the Reich. He could only imagine the high-level people, dissidents, whom he would be told to kill.

"As you know, General," Thomas said cautiously, "I took an oath when I became a physician, the foundation of which is to heal and never to harm. ‘Nil nocere.' I take it seriously, and even when faced with the most devastating agony in a patient, I am not able to relieve them from their suffering. Even if I wanted to, I cannot euthanize a patient. I would be breaking the law and every code of ethics that applies to my profession. I simply cannot. I'm sure you understand," he said to enlist the general's alliance.

The general waved a hand as though he had a magic wand in it. "Oh of course, the Führer would absolve you from all that."

"But my conscience would not. How could I spend hours in surgery, saving someone's life, and then walk to the next room and end another's? What kind of doctor would I be then? You would not want me to operate on your elbow, or your brother-in-law on his knees. It would be a crime, morally and medically, contrary to the oath I have taken."

"I had no idea you were such a purist," the general said, with a look of annoyance. "These are details, you know. And no one would need to be aware of the process. We can provide you with military nurses to assist you, women who understand the importance of this project and would not interfere." The vision it conjured up of SS thugs holding someone down while Thomas administered a lethal injection was horrifying. He would be a simple murderer and no longer a physician.

"I hope the Führer will understand I must respect my oath in order to serve him well, and while I wish to be a good citizen, I must be a good doctor, without blemish on my character." It was a long way to say no, but Thomas would have died before he would have assisted them with their plan. Just knowing that they had set up killing centers to murder "undesirable citizens" was shocking beyond belief.

"He will be very disappointed," the general said, frowning. "We could have benefited from your advice about our centers as well, to speed up their efficiency. We haven't gotten the technique to be as effective as we want yet. You could have helped. I assume you don't want to do that either," he said, and Thomas shook his head, sickened by everything the general had said.

The general left a few minutes later, and for the next week, every day, Thomas expected a squad from the SS to come and remove him and put him in front of a firing squad for treason or shoot him on the spot. But nothing happened, and no one had mentioned it again. It had been several months, and he knew about the killing centers now, and that the Reich was euthanizing dissidents, but no one had renewed his invitation to participate. It had been a chilling conversation, which he knew he would never forget. He never told anyone about it and was amazed that there had been no fallout from it. It seemed like dangerous ground and a very close call to him.

In January of 1940, months after invading Poland, the Reich began building a new concentration camp in Poland, called Auschwitz. In February, the first major deportation of German Jews to Poland began. And in April, the Nazis invaded Denmark and Norway, adding two more countries to their map. Thomas and Sophia were talking about it quietly over breakfast shortly after it happened when Theresa called them and sounded hysterical. She was six and a half months pregnant, due in July. Sophia wondered if something had happened to the baby, or maybe Heinrich was being inducted into the army, despite all of his father's generous "contributions" to keep him away from the front. Theresa had had an easy pregnancy so far, but it was obvious that something was terribly wrong.

"What happened?" Sophia asked, trying unsuccessfully to calm her.

"Can I come and see you and Papa?" Theresa asked. Sophia checked with her father about his surgical schedule, and he said he would be free until ten, and she told Theresa, who said she would meet them at the hospital in a few minutes.

Sophia and Thomas walked to the hospital quickly, and were in his office when she arrived, her belly enormous now, and her face streaked with tears. She sat down in a chair in his office after Sophia hugged her, and she started to sob again. It took her several minutes to be calm enough to talk.

"It's Heinrich," she said in a single breath. "His father got a call last night from a distant cousin, Heinrich doesn't know him, but his father says he's for real. The cousin said that my father-in-law's mother was Jewish. She died when he was born, and his father was ashamed of her being Jewish, and thought no one would ever know, so he never told him. He's been dead for years too. No one ever told us, and the cousin said he thought we knew, but Father von Ernst is half Jewish and didn't know, which makes Heinrich a quarter Jewish. His cousin works in the records office in Cologne, and he saw some paperwork the other day saying that they're going to arrest my parents-in-law, and they're going to take us too. My parents-in-law are acting as though it's not true. Father von Ernst has a bad heart. Heinrich says we have to go and leave everything behind. His brother Bernhard lives in Zurich. Heinrich is going to try to get an emigration visa, but he thinks it will be denied. He says we have to run. But where and how? My parents-in-law want to stay. They don't believe that the High Command will allow them to be arrested. Heinrich thinks they will."

"Oh my God, Theresa." Sophia looked at her with horror. "That can't be possible. Is the cousin sure about Heinrich's grandmother being Jewish? Or is he just trying to scare you, or wants blackmail money? It sounds crazy." Suddenly one of the most respectable and well-connected families in the city, in Germany, and ardent supporters of the Reich, was at risk, and her sister, brother-in-law, his parents, and the unborn child were in danger too. She thought of the little boy with hypothermia on Christmas Eve. And there was no way to hide an entire family of four adults, and especially with Theresa in the condition she was in. She couldn't give birth in someone's attic, and who would hide them?

Sophia was looking at her father, who was trying to figure out what to do. While they discussed it, Heinrich called Theresa and told her that their visa request to travel to Switzerland had been denied, even for a visit. There was no way they could get out of Germany. And if the paperwork for their arrest had already started, they had to leave very quickly. Thomas canceled his next appointment after the call, to buy some time to advise her.

"I can't believe this," Sophia said to her sister. "You've been entertaining half the SS and the Wehrmacht at your house for the past year, and they're going to arrest you? How is that possible?"

"It's possible," their father said quietly. "As far as the Reich is concerned, if you're one-quarter Jewish you're a Jew, and his father is half, which makes Heinrich a quarter. Theresa isn't Jewish, but it's against the law for Heinrich to be married to an Aryan, and for Theresa to be married to a Jew. It's all part of the Nuremberg Laws of 1935," he said. "And your parents-in-law's situation is even more severe, if he's half Jewish. If they're willing, they should try to leave with you."

"If Heinrich couldn't get us a visa, he won't be able to get them one either. And they don't want to leave. They think the SS won't touch them because of their connections and that Heinrich is panicking unnecessarily. They feel totally secure. Heinrich doesn't agree."

Sophia had been listening intently, with a serious expression, and there was only one solution she could think of, which seemed even more impossible to achieve. With Heinrich's father an older man with a heart condition, and Theresa almost seven months pregnant, she couldn't imagine anyone except Heinrich being able to hike over the mountains into Switzerland, but it was the only way they were going to get out of Germany now, on foot.

She looked at Theresa and asked her, "How soon do you think they would arrest you? Did Heinrich's cousin say?"

"He doesn't know. He said it usually takes two or three days to process the papers, maybe longer, but not much. He said to go, anywhere, as fast as we can. And Heinrich says he's right. He wants us to leave now."

"Can his brother do anything from the Swiss side?" she asked, and Theresa shook her head.

"Heinrich doesn't think so. And we have no safe way to reach him and tell him what's happening."

"What do you have in mind?" their father asked Sophia. He could see that she had an idea.

"I have a friend. He's been walking people over the mountains since war was declared. Usually children, and he's taken adults across too. But Theresa is in no condition to do it. She could give birth along the way." But she could wind up dead or in a concentration camp if she stayed.

"She may have to take the risk," Thomas said. He didn't ask how Sophia knew the man who walked people across the mountains. "Can you get in touch with him?"

"I can, tonight." If he went to the meeting. He didn't always come, if he was on a mission. But their only hope was her contacting Claus. She didn't even know his last name or where he lived. The only way she knew how to find him was at the meeting. She'd been planning to go that night anyway.

Theresa stayed until her father had to leave to see patients. He was already late. Sophia took her home and then came back to work. It was an endless day, waiting for that night. She went straight from work, in her uniform, after an emergency. She was one of the first to arrive at the meeting, and Claus was one of the last. She thought he wasn't coming, and then he slipped in just before they closed the door and came to sit next to her. He glanced at her with a smile and saw the tension on her face.

"Are you okay? Is something wrong?" He was instantly alert. She nodded in answer to the second question, and whispered.

"I need your help."

"Do you want to leave?" he whispered back, and she nodded. They left the meeting only minutes after he arrived, and walked slowly down the street, while she explained the situation to him where no one could overhear them. You couldn't trust anyone now. People reported each other regularly. Claus listened to the whole story and then stopped walking and looked at Sophia. "They have to go soon. It's unpredictable. The SS could show up tomorrow to arrest them, and then it's all over. And they can't take his parents with them. He's too old and with a bad heart, he'll never make it. He'd slow them down, and they're more likely to get caught that way."

"They don't want to leave anyway. And one more detail about my sister," she said unhappily.

"What? Does she have a handicap?"

"No, but she's almost six and a half months pregnant."

"Jesus," he said, giving it some thought. He wanted to help Sophia, but it wouldn't be easy. Speed was of the essence. They had no time to plan carefully or let anyone in the network know they were coming. He had enough supplies for the three of them, and the equipment they'd need, but a heavily pregnant woman would be at high risk. Her risk was even greater if they stayed, which Sophia understood too. The SS was merciless when they went after Jews, especially very wealthy ones, who owned banks and spectacular homes filled with valuable things.

"I'd like to go with them," Sophia said quietly, and his eyes opened wide in surprise.

"And stay in Switzerland?"

"No, to help get her there, in case she gives birth on the way. The baby won't survive if that happens. I don't want her to go through that alone, and she could die."

"You can only go as far as the Swiss border, or I probably won't be able to get you out again."

"At least I can go that far," she said with a look of determination.

"Are you sure? It's dangerous," he warned her.

"I'm sure," she said, and he looked at her and knew she was. "Can you do it?" He nodded.

"We have to leave tomorrow night. My guess is they'll come to arrest them the next day. I'll bring everything. They have to wear warm clothes and sturdy boots. I'll bring the rest." He told her where they would meet, at a noisy restaurant on the far side of Berlin, in the early evening. And then he smiled at Sophia. "And I'll get you back here. There's a cabin where I can leave you just before the border. I'll pick you up on the way back. And if I don't show up, you go back on your own. Don't try to make it into Switzerland by yourself. It's a rough road with crevasses and sharp drops." Thinking about it was frightening, but if they weren't caught on the way, she knew that Claus would get her home.

They left each other in the street, and Sophia stopped at Theresa's house on the way home, the house they were about to leave and might never see again. Theresa and Heinrich were in the library talking, and Sophia told them in whispers everything that Claus had said.

"So soon?" Heinrich looked shocked.

"He thinks they might come for you the day after tomorrow, and then it's too late." Heinrich nodded and looked devastated. He had warned Theresa there was no time to waste if the order for their arrest had already been drawn up.

"And what about my parents? If I can convince them to come." They were being stubborn about it, and overly optimistic.

"He doesn't think they could make it." Claus wasn't sure about Theresa either, but she had youth on her side. She was strong and in good health. Heinrich's parents were older, with his father's bad heart to consider.

Sophia left them a few minutes later, went straight to the Sisters of Mercy chapel, and lit candles for each of them, and Heinrich's parents, and even Theresa's baby. She went home after that, and her father was waiting for her, with an anxious expression.

"It's all set," she said simply. She felt drained.

"When?"

"Tomorrow night. I'll work tomorrow, and I'm going to go with them as far as the border, in case Theresa goes into labor on the way." He nodded, and learned a lot about Sophia that night.

"You could get shot, and killed," Thomas said with tears in his eyes. He could lose both his daughters. But there was no other choice. Either try to escape or wait to get arrested, and maybe wind up in one of the killing centers being euthanized as traitors to the Reich, "undesirable citizens." The Nazis were killing people for less. "Just make sure you come back," he said, with a lump in his throat.

"I will, Papa," she said, hoping she was telling him the truth. He had had no idea until then how brave she was, and as she thought about what lay ahead, neither did she.