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Author’s Note: World War II is in high gear. It is Christmas Day, 1942. We find ourselves at a German-Swiss border crossing high in the Alps, observing Retter, a German border crossing guard.
It was more than cold. Even at noon the temperature didn't rise above 10° Fahrenheit.
Standing outside, even in his military grade weather gear, Retter still felt chilled to the bone. He wondered to himself, with true horror, what it would be like with that frozen air hitting you at 70 or 80 kilometers per hour.
Border crossing duty was boring and the accommodations were barbaric this high up in the mountains. Hitler’s ability to equip his army was waning. When they had water, the soldiers were still bathing using a cup of water in their general issue helmets. The rations were canned and there were days with no food, water or toilet paper. But there were always vehicles to inspect, 24/7.
Rumours of Allied advances had gotten to them, even in this remote spot, and Retter hoped this meant the war would end soon. He had never cared which side won.
The past few months had been uneventful. The border crossing’s commanding officer had been given a commendation for having forged a fear in the population of attempting to smuggle goods, currency and especially people through his checkpoint.
Retter loved animals. When he was a young boy he would always be nursing an injured animal back to health. His mother had instilled a sense of love and respect that seemed to have stayed with Retter even after the indoctrination of the Hitler Youth commandants. His mother feared that her son’s “softness” would eventually be his undoing in the harsh world that surrounded them, but no matter how she tried, she was never able to thicken his skin.
Except for the light coming from a single bulb in the border crossing shack, it was pitch black as the cloud cover blanketed the full moon.
It was 4 am and a vehicle was coming. Retter stepped in front of it and it came to a complete stop. He had seen this driver and his vehicle many times before. The other officer approached the driver's side and began to review a myriad of paperwork. Retter began his complete vehicle check. His shepherd was busy sniffing the surface of the truck. She had been trained to react to narcotics as well as explosives.
Fortunately Hitler hadn't yet devised a way to train the dogs to react to Jews.
He opened the back of the truck and picked the dog up and put her inside. He joined her and began to inspect the cargo. He saw nothing unusual and he and his shepherd leapt down to the ground. He joined his fellow officer at the driver’s side of the truck, and they inspected the truck’s manifest and found it to be in perfect order. Retter, as he had done thousands of times before, tied his dog to the outpost door and prepared to inspect the bottom of the truck.
Holding his flashlight, he directed the beam toward the front underside of the vehicle.
Her face, although it had been made raw by the freezing mountain winds, was angelic, and it still had a glow. Her long brown hair was hanging on the ground. She was the picture of perfect terror. She was hanging, as were her brother and parents, on the underside of the truck. They were all shivering uncontrollably.
Retter directed his light toward her father and his expression was like stone. In that instant, Retter looked deep into his eyes. He knew that this man could see nothing beyond that blinding light, but he seemed, nevertheless, to be able to see directly into Retter's soul.
Retter could see the fear and fatigue caused by what this man had brought his family through, but he could also see the strength and true resolve just behind his eyes. He knew they had given everything up and probably had left on a moment's notice. They had probably paid for this passage with the last of their savings. They had probably been a prominent Jewish family and now they were penniless refugees with no idea of what the next moment would bring.
Retter kept the beam on this man's face for a few more moments trying to understand the level of courage that was within him, trying to understand the level of fear that was within him, and trying to understand the level of hatred that was within him.
The whole family was holding their breath as they all thought that this was where their journey would end. Their father’s plan had failed. All had been in vain. The months of preparation, the payoffs, the murders.
Their lives would end with a bullet to the head and their bodies would be thrown off the nearest cliff, but only after days of brutal interrogations.
The mother thought. This man holding the flashlight believes that this is our entire family. Verner and Gufenheiser should also be here. Her first children, the twins, were almost sixteen. Having twins had tested their parental limits, but the fact that they were severely mentally and physically impaired made it nearly impossible. She had persevered and took the risk of having two other children, both perfectly healthy, a few years later. The younger children had been a tremendous help in the care of their older siblings.
Like many German Jews, there was nothing outwardly Jewish about them, and so that had allowed them to live undetected by the Nazis even as many practicing Jews were being sent to camps.
But father and mother realized this was changing, and even fully assimilated Jews could be next.
They would have to flee the country while they still had time.
They had converted all of their currency to gold and made a deal with the truck driver who was now sitting just a few feet above them in the cab of the truck. They were to meet 40 kilometers outside of Augsburg in the middle of the night. They would have to travel through the woods on horseback to meet him.
After weeks of preparation, one night, father suddenly announced that it was time.
Father had told mother that the twins had to be left behind to save the rest of the family. It would be physically impossible to effect an escape with them in tow. Deep in her heart, mother had already known this.
They had only a few short hours. Mother walked into the twins’ room.
They were holding each other rocking on their bed as they always did before they went to sleep. They saw and smelled their mother and their rocking's momentum increased. She knew that this was their way of saying we love you. She lay down between them and hugged them both. They buried their heads into her neck as they had since birth and both sighed at exactly the same time. Mother didn't know it but the scent coming from her skin gave them a world of feelings inside their malformed brains. They were feeling love, but it came to them in colors and shapes and vibrations. They were feeling comfort at its greatest level, comfort that only a child can have in the embrace of his mother.
The twins could have had no idea that this would be their last time experiencing their mother’s love. As she lay there with her first born sons clinging to her, she felt that she would never be able to get up.
What kind of monster-mother would kill her own children under any circumstances?
Father came to the bedroom door and told mother to go downstairs and that he would meet her and their two younger children at the place outside of town that they had agreed to. It was 3am and they had to get into the cover of the forest before the first light. She obeyed and took her other two children out of the back door.
He didn’t want any of his family to witness what he had to do.
Father stood there knowing that he was running out of time. He talked to his first-born twins, first in German and then in his more familiar Yiddish. He closed his eyes and prayed to God. He could leave them here alive and someone would find them, but what would become of them?
He knew of the Third Reich's euthanasia programs in the mental hospitals but also knew of how Josef Mengele used twins for his experiments. One of the twins remained untouched as they would be the control subject to gauge the reactions of the other twin to horrific human experimentation.
Father could not bear this and would never take such a risk.
He laid down in the exact spot that his wife had been just a few minutes before and within moments his sons’ faces were buried in his neck. They hugged him tight and he could feel their smiling faces and rapid heartbeats and breathing. He closed his eyes and asked God for strength. He got up and prepared a glass of milk for them. It was laced with something the pharmacist had given him. Once ingested, they would simply fall asleep peacefully and then their breathing would eventually stop. He sat them up and made each of them drink one half of the glass.
He kissed both of them and put their heads on their pillows. Within minutes they were yawning and then sleeping. He watched their respirations move the blankets up and down. He regretted that they would not get a decent Jewish burial.
Within ten minutes the blankets stopped moving. He wept and took one last look at his first born sons, who were now sacrificed for the good of the physically healthy and mentally functional members of the family.
He moved towards them and kissed each of them and told them they would be together again, someday.
He wrapped both of his sons, dead by his hand, in a fresh white sheet, and brought them to the back of the house.
There, behind some bushes, was the grave he had dug, with two pine caskets lying at the bottom of it. The pine casket covers lay to the side on the pile of freshly dug earth. He lowered the first of his dead sons into the pine box at the bottom of the grave.
He lowered himself into the grave and kissed him one last time through the sheet. His tears were flowing, but he had work to do. He placed the lid on the casket, affixed it with four nails, and then did the same for his other son.
It took him only a short time to fill the grave with dirt.
He left the shovel next to the grave as he would have no need for it where he was going.
He spoke in Yiddish:
ה', מוחל מיר ווי איך האב היינט צוויי מאל איבערגעבראכן דיין הייליקסטע געבאט. איך ווייס אז די שטראף פאר דעם איז מיין טויט. העלף מיר צו זען די זיכערקייט פון מיין רוען משפּחה, און טאָן מיט מיר וואָס איר באַשליסן אין דיין גאנץ חכמה.
Translation: HaShem, forgive me as I have broken your most sacred commandment twice today. I know the punishment for this is my death. Help me see to the safety of my remaining family, then do with me what you decide in your perfect wisdom.
He went into his family home one last time and went into the kitchen.
He removed a secret panel from under the sink and removed a satchel filled with gold. His children and wife had taken the few other things they needed. He walked out of the front door and shut it. He took a few steps, and turned around and he looked at the home where he had been born for the last time. The millions of memories, holidays, family, his heritage and pride, were inextricably linked to this piece of ground.
The tears were streaming out of his eyes now. He turned and walked toward the forest.
He found his remaining family waiting where he instructed. He hugged his wife and they wept together. He looked to his remaining living son and daughter and told them that they were to obey his every word and they nodded. They rode off. They made their connection at 8pm the next night. The truck was ready and the satchel was passed to the driver. Father had no choice but to entrust the driver with their lives.
He knew that at any moment SS (Schutzstaffel) guards could come out of the shadows.
He could be joining the sons he had just killed in the afterlife sooner than he thought.
The driver and father secured the others and then the driver secured the father last.
The driver would not tell them which route was to be taken. He did tell them that he was carrying a load of textile goods to Switzerland.
The trip could take several days. The father had done as he was instructed and had the children and his wife dress as warmly as possible. He was concerned that his daughter would not have the stamina to make it.
It was exactly three days from the time they were secured under the truck that Retter's light shone in their faces.
The father, now hanging under the truck at the border crossing, watched as the beam of light was reversed and was directed to the face of the holder of the flashlight. The family saw Retter's face and he put his finger to his lips.
They understood what was going to happen. Retter doused his light and stood up. He walked to the front of the vehicle and put his signature on the transportation papers next to his fellow officer's.
They both stepped back and the driver put the truck in gear. It crested a hill and started down the Swiss side of the mountain range.
As it drove out of sight, Retter’s commanding officer thought he saw human hair hanging down from the underside. He chalked it up to his exhaustion, lit a cigarette, and went back inside the border crossing shack.
This had been the thirtieth family that Retter "failed" to discover trying to escape Nazi Germany. He thought of them all day and knew that the hardest work was still ahead of them. The rest of the world was almost as anti-Semitic as the Germans were.
He saw the last reflection of the truck’s taillights and then it was as if it had never been there.
Retter sat and waited for the next vehicle in the frozen stillness with his shepherd at his feet.
