Elsa

Elsa

By Simon Gandossi

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Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2012 by Simon Gandossi.

All rights are reserved.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Table of Contents

Introduction

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Introduction

My name is Elsa Baum. I was born in Munich, Germany, in 1925. As I write this introduction, I am very emotional. I spent the majority of my teenage years growing up surrounded by hate and sadness, and also blindness. Most people in Germany turned a blind eye to what was happening around them, fearful of the repercussions that would occur if they spoke out.

Newsreels, posters, and other propaganda depicted the Jews as evil, money-hungry individuals determined to bring Germany down. Hitler made himself out to be a saviour, someone determined to save Germany from the Jews and bring it back to its former glory. But the truth was he was using all these lies to send Germany to war and conquer Europe for his own glory, his own good, and his well-being, not for that of Germany.

The Jews were not the only ones persecuted, although they were the majority – gypsies, homosexuals, and people with disabilities were also dealt with. Hitler wanted to create the perfect superior race, and those deemed not worthy enough were either sent to concentration camps or murdered, which was the same thing in most cases.

I am not Jewish; it didn’t matter to me if someone was or not. We are all different, and we cannot judge someone based on their religion, beliefs, or lifestyle. This was so hard to get through to some people.

I don’t want my story to inspire people nor make them sad; I want it to educate them because hate, homophobia, and racism still exist today, and although the chance of another event like the Holocaust is rare, the world will never be rid of the foundations that cause hatred among us.

Love comes in all forms. You can’t stop falling in love; you can only go along for the ride and see where it takes you. We can’t help who we fall in love with; it is a very powerful emotion which none of us has control over.

This is dedicated to all those lives lost during that time; it is also dedicated to those who wish to live their lives as they choose, despite others and despite the norm.

Elsa Baum

23 May 2008

Chapter 1

1 March 1941

Franklin Roosevelt once said, ‘We look forward to a world founded upon four essential human freedoms. The first is freedom of speech and expression everywhere in the world. The second is freedom of every person to worship God in his own way – everywhere in the world. The third is freedom from want. The fourth is freedom from fear.’

This was all well and good if you lived during that time in the United States or, I guess, anywhere else in the free world. But I lived in Germany where one man made most of the decisions and where all of us had to listen and obey or suffer the consequences.

Germany had changed so much since Hitler had come to power; everyone was talking about the new roads and highways created and the jobs, etc. but I could see him for the person he truly was. He was an evil human being, one with no regard for human life.

We were told about the evils of certain people but mostly the Jews. I was sixteen at the time and most girls my age had no reason not to believe Hitler and others. If they said the Jews were evil and were the main reason Germany’s economy suffered for long periods of time, not to mention the loss of the First World War, how were we to know any difference? But despite all this, I despised the Nazis. I was not a Nazi; I was a German. And for me, there was a big difference.

School was very important to me, but it changed so much once the Nazis came to power. Jews could not attend school with us. I did become friends with some Jewish girls but had not seen any of them for a while. We were told they had to be removed from our classes because they would corrupt our minds, but I remember thinking this was so much nonsense.

Such negative views could have gotten one into serious trouble, but I shared my opinions and views with my two best friends, Greta and Elizabeth. We were more like sisters than friends.

Both of them were very beautiful. Greta had long brown hair with dark brown eyes; she was naive, but she was always smiling. Liz was also beautiful; her long blonde hair made her the centre of attraction for many boys in school, but she wasn’t interested in a boyfriend yet. She was a little snobbish I guess. But she was kind hearted, and she, like me, very stubborn. Both Liz and I were very strong willed, Greta wasn’t; so we had to look out for her more than we looked out for each other.

We had all been friends since kindergarten; our families had been close early on, but in recent years, they had become distant. But we girls had always been close.

We would often meet in the Beinhof Cafe to chat, away from our parents. My parents, like theirs, were devout Nazis, but mine were even more so. My father was a top civilian advisor to many high-ranking Nazi officials, and my mother was a housewife. But she often arranged fund-raising efforts for the Nazi war effort. I loved and hated my parents – I loved them because they would do anything for me, and I hated them because they were Nazis. I was an only child, and back then, I wished so much for a sister or brother. But now, thinking back, I am glad I didn’t have any simply because it might have meant one more Nazi. It sounds horrible, but I could not have borne another close family member being a Nazi.

My father, being who he was, made life for me a little easier, but not once did I use it for my own personal gain. People were nicer to me in the beginning, and it was easier to get certain things like special types of food and alcohol. When my mother walked into the butcher’s, we would get the best cuts of meat, and in the bakery, the freshest bread; but this didn’t make me happy because I knew while my family and many more were enjoying the pleasures of life during a hard time, so many people were suffering. This made me not only sad but, more so, angry. How can a person enjoy life when things around them are being destroyed? We had been promised a quick end to the war, and I thought to myself, ‘Even if this were true how can an ordinary German like myself be portrayed as anything less than a Nazi?’ I knew I could never travel to other countries without being hated. I wanted to run away, maybe to Switzerland or London or America, to start a new life; anywhere was better than here.

The cafe we loved so much was about three blocks from my home and was mostly a great place to sit and chat because we were regulars. We would get our usual hot chocolate at a cheaper price, and also the cafe was often busy and noisy, so we could chat about things without fear of being overheard. Like the majority of older people, the owner was a fanatical Nazi; framed photos of Hitler hung around the walls and various SS ornaments were on the wooden shelves, and it provided a daunting atmosphere to the first-time visitor. We ignored all that and remembered how it used to be.

One cold autumn morning we met, as we did every Saturday morning, in the cafe. Greta had a very annoying habit – upon receiving her hot chocolate from the waitress she would stir it constantly for a few minutes, then add three teaspoons of sugar.

I always asked her why she did that. ‘Chocolate is already sweet, why can’t you just stir it once or twice?’

She’d say, ‘Well, it’s a habit, and it makes it taste better the more times you stir it.’

She was frustrating sometimes with her habits, but I loved her dearly. She meant so much to me as did Elizabeth. I don’t think during the outbreak of Nazi hostilities I could have gotten through without them. It makes things so much easier when you have not only someone to talk to but someone who also shares the same opinions as you.

During that morning, I noticed Liz was quieter than normal. She was blowing into her mug, and she looked a million miles away.

‘Liz, are you OK?’ I asked.

She didn’t respond, she just blew into her mug.

I yelled her name so loud to get her attention that some of the customers looked over at me.

Liz turned her head to me and, with a small and fake grin, she asked, ‘Sorry, did you say something?’

If one of us had a problem, we would always talk about it and try and help each other. But it seemed this time Liz was keeping it to herself.

‘Liz, come on. Talk to us,’ I said.

She nodded her head and again blew into her mug.

‘Liz, your chocolate will be cold soon,’ Greta said.

I used to press my friends if they had a problem; I’d make them tell me what was wrong, even if I annoyed them by doing so.

‘Liz?’ I said, staring at her.

She put down the mug and wrapped her hands around it as if she were warming them up.

‘You are both going to have to do without me for a while,’ she said, looking down at the table.

I looked at Greta in confusion.

‘What do you mean?’ I asked.

‘My parents are sending me to the Berlin Academic Boarding School for Girls.’

There was a moment of silence. I waited for her to laugh and say it was all a big joke.

‘Are you serious?’ I asked.

‘I wish I wasn’t.’

My mood changed very quickly. Her parents were sending her to a Nazi grooming school, where the idealistic and anti-Semitic values of the Nazis were taught.

‘Just tell them you don’t want to go,’ Greta said.

‘I did. I said my grades here are good, and I haven’t been in any trouble, so what is the point of sending me away. But it was like talking to a brick wall. In any case, it’s done. They met with the headmistress, and it’s all arranged,’ she said, nodding her head. ‘I can reach my full potential there, they also said.’

‘When do you leave?’ I asked.

‘Train leaves at five today.’

A combination of shock, anger, and sadness came over me. I couldn’t believe one of my best friends was leaving so soon.

‘Liz, you’re leaving and only giving us a half day’s notice?’ I said angrily.

‘I only found out this morning. They said this way. I don’t worry so much.’

In those days, image was very important, and sending your child to a highly prestigious school did wonders for the family. As for myself, I had always worried my parents would do the same thing to me, but they would never make me do anything I didn’t want to do. Greta’s mother was a widow and she couldn’t bear being away from Greta, so she also would not be going anywhere in the near future.

I never understood Liz’s parents. I will never know why they forced her to do something that made her upset. They were putting themselves first. They loved me, they always said, not because I was Liz’s friend but because of who my father was. They always liked to spend time with influential people.

‘I’m sure we will see each other again. You will be back during holidays,’ I said, trying to make the mood better.

‘I’ll write all the time too,’ Liz replied, smiling.

‘Aw, see, girls, it’s not so bad. We are one big happy family,’ Greta said with a smile on her face.

This is one thing I treasured so much, more than anything else throughout my entire life. I think people nowadays often underestimate the value of friendship; the bond between good friends can get you through almost anything.

‘Liz, there is a way you could be back in no time at all,’ Greta said.

‘How?’ asked Liz.

‘Misbehave, go to class late, don’t hand in assignments. You know, that sort of thing.’

I could tell by the tone of Greta’s voice that she was upset but trying to hide her emotions.

‘If I did that, my parents would know I was doing it to try and get out of there. It would make things worse.’

‘Liz, you sound like you want to go,’ I said.

I knew I shouldn’t have said that, and I was hoping Liz would do all she could to get back here as soon as possible. But the way her parents were, it would be like getting blood out of a stone.

‘If I could think of a way to get out, Elsa, I would,’ she replied, frustrated.

‘I know. I’m sorry. It will be OK,’ I said. ‘Look girls, we have seen Germany plunged into darkness. This war and this stupid madman have ruined Germany, not to mention many beautiful countries in the world hate us. But you know we have to be strong and hope that one day, not only Liz will return but Germany returns to a peaceful place to live without the Nazis.’

‘Well, said!’ Greta cried, clapping her hands.

Sometimes these difficult things inspire me, not always with words but sometimes simply by putting me in a good mood – a very hard thing to do, considering.

‘Let’s run away,’ I said, without thinking.

‘Where to?’ Greta asked.

‘I don’t know, and I don’t care. Let’s just get away from here. We can be together, start afresh in a new place away here.’

‘I can’t leave my mother, Elsa. She’s alone. She would be lost without me,’ Greta said.

I realised after I said that how unrealistic it was. I guess we all say things on the spur of the moment without thinking.

I took a deep breath and lowered my head.

‘I know you can’t. Maybe I’m just being too hasty.’

‘The thought was there, Elsa, and I know how much you care for us. But I have to go now, girls. Mother wants me to pack and spend my afternoon with them,’ Liz said.

I bit the inside of my mouth to try and stop myself from crying. We all got up, and Greta quickly gave Liz a big hug.

‘We will miss you so much, Liz,’ Greta said.

Her teary eyes made me bite myself harder.

‘This damn cigarette smoke makes my eyes so dry,’ Greta said, wiping her eyes.

Liz turned around and smiled at me. I smiled back as I leant over to hug her. I just wanted to keep holding her, but I let go and looked into her eyes.

‘Don’t you go letting them brainwash you with their nonsense and lies, OK?’ I said.

‘Never in a million years,’ she replied. ‘OK, girls, the first thing I do when I arrive is write you a letter. Love you both,’ she said as she walked away.

Greta and I both sat back down, and I looked over towards the door. Liz stood there looking left and right, making sure it was safe to cross the road. She turned around and looked at me and, with a smile on her face, turned back and walked away.

At that moment, I realised how much they meant to me. I was their big sister, and now, with Liz going, I could not look out for her. I rubbed my forehead with both my hands and then looked at Greta.

‘Don’t cry, Elsa, she will be OK,’ Greta said.

‘I am not crying. I was just thinking to myself how I could never make someone I love do something they don’t want to. It really baffles me.’

‘You would send me away, wouldn’t you?’ Greta said, laughing.

‘Only sometimes,’ I replied, smiling.

I was happy I still had Greta as a friend. I knew because of her mother; she wouldn’t be going anywhere.

The overwhelming smell of cigarette smoke started to build up, and it was giving me a headache.

‘Let’s go, Greta, I need some fresh air.’

We both got up and walked out of the door. The morning was cold, and dark clouds were forming over the horizon; it would be raining soon. As we began to walk on the sidewalk, we noticed more soldiers in town than usual – most were holding hands with their partners.

‘Must be hard for them,’ Greta said.

‘Who?’ I asked.

‘The soldiers’ wives and girlfriends, not knowing if this is the last time they will see each other.’

‘Yeah, losing the one you love fighting for a fool,’ I replied.

‘Ha ha. You see, Elsa, insulting Hitler always cheers you up,’ Greta said as she pushed me.

As we smiled and made our way towards home, the sidewalk became more difficult to walk on. It was very busy for that time of morning, and even with the threat of rain, people still walked and browsed in the shop windows.

All the streets were very clean; a strict penalty was imposed on anyone caught littering. It was ironic really – we had to clean the streets of rubbish, but the people who made that order were rubbish themselves.

‘Elsa, quick!’ Greta said, grabbing my arm.

‘That is the dress I want,’ she said, pointing to a red dress in a shop window.

We loved looking at the shops on our way home. We had never bought anything from them, but hopefully one day, we could wear one of the beautiful dresses they sold in some of them.

‘Come on, Greta, let’s get home before it rains.’

The crowds had almost come to a standstill, so we hopped off the sidewalk and began to walk on the side of the road. Just as we did, we heard a man’s voice, yelling at us to get back on the sidewalk. We turned around and saw a young policeman, no more than nineteen or twenty. This was a strange thing because the majority of the young men were away fighting.

‘Girls, stop! Get back on the sidewalk and do not walk on the street again!’ he said, yelling and pointing his finger at us.

He turned around and walked away.

‘Maybe he’s angry he can’t get into the army, so young and yet not fit enough,’ Greta said, smirking.

‘Idiot,’ I replied.

As we began the slow walk on the sidewalk, I couldn’t help but hate most those I saw. I didn’t know who they were, and I didn’t care. But I blamed nearly everyone for what was happening in Germany. When I looked into their faces, they never looked back at me; they were too busy browsing in the shops’ windows or looking into their partners’ eyes, which, I guess, wasn’t a bad thing because the look I gave them would most definitely have gotten me into some kind of trouble.

The clouds were moving in quickly, and as we continued walking, I heard a truck beeping its horn. Then I heard the squealing of the brakes as it stopped almost adjacent to where Greta and I were walking.

Not many people stopped and looked; you had to continue walking and mind your own business. This was the way it was; it was like everyone was oblivious to what we heard and saw. The doors opened and, as we walked, Greta and I turned our heads to see some men grabbing two men from the sidewalk and throwing them into the back of the truck. Then the truck sped off.

‘Scares me so much, Elsa,’ Greta said.

‘Me too. We have to just keep walking.’

At that time, I told Greta what she wanted to hear. But the fact of the matter was I wasn’t scared. I could not live my life being worried about what might happen; I refused to live in fear.

I lived closer to the cafe than Greta, and upon reaching my home, I could feel the sprinkle of rain starting.

‘You’d better get home, Greta. Your mother wouldn’t want you to catch a cold.’

I stood at the front gate at the entrance to our apartment building. The yellow flowers and red walkway leading to the revolving door looked beautiful.

‘OK, Elsa. Call me tonight, OK?’

‘Ask your mother if you can sleep over tomorrow night. I’ll ask my parents, but I am sure it will be fine,’ I said.

‘I have to go,’ she replied.

I walked into the lobby of our apartment complex that was so beautiful with