A Flicker of Light (2 page)

She’d gotten a ride to Denmark, but t
he long, tedious
trip from Denmark to Munich
had
seemed
endless. Although she had
only
been
in her first trimester of pregnancy, her bladde
r seemed to fill more o
ften. Once she was on the train
for the final leg of the trip, t
he motion of the rail car
had
made her stomach weak and her head
ache. But worst of all
,
she’d been
plagued by solitude. Petra
had gazed out
the window, the rickety motion
of the train
jol
ting her
as they
’d
rambled
along.
She’d seen happy
families
o
utside their homes - c
hildren laughed, running and playing; farmers worked in golden fields; women hung clothes on the line to dry - all of them safe and comfortable, all of them unaware of her predicament. She
’d tried to sleep, but she’d been
edgy and far too frightened.

The sunlight filtered through the window pane
,
reflecti
ng
a
child’s small handprint
on the glass. Petra leaned her head against the casement and
watched the world go by
.
She’d almost drifted off to sleep
when
her eyes caught those of an aged peasant woman carrying a large basket. The old woman wore a black and red checkered scarf tied around her head. She
’d
stared back at Petra
,
her wizened face lined with wr
inkles and her skin thick as
leather. For a mere second, their eyes
had
locked. Petra
had
felt a shiver run up the back of her spine
,
and she
’d
trembled. The experience
had
disturbed her
, but she could not pin
point why. Instead
, she
’d
tried to force
it from her mind. But when she
’d
closed her eyes, the old woman's face
had
returned, her eyes taking the form of black spiders.

As the train sped thro
ugh the German countryside, Petra
had
tried to keep her mind on pleasant thoughts. She
’d
focused on Hans and the future they would share when he was rel
eased from the army. Perhaps they
would live in a farmhouse similar to the ones she
’d
seen out the window of the train
. At that moment,
Petra had been
blissfully unaware that she would soon be risking her life to escape from Heim
Hockland
, the very place she
’d
then raced toward.

Chapter
2

The Outskirts of Munich, Germany
, 1943

W

hen she arrived in the crowded railway station, Petra found herself immediately greeted by two SS officers. They approache
d her dressed in immaculate
blac
k uniforms with shining boots.

“
Frauline
Jorgensen?” a tall blond man asked
as he offered to take her bag
.
“I’m
Oberfurer
Werner and this is my partner
Gruppenfuhrer
Becker.”

“Yes,
I am Petra Jorgensen.”

“Good, so we found you. Your trip
was
satisfactory, I hope?”
Oberfurer
Werner asked.

“Yes, it was fine.” She studied their faces. Neither of them could have been more than twenty-two.

“Good, v
ery good.
You are hungry, yes?”

“Actually, I suppose I am.”

“Then come this way, please.”

Onl
y one of the men spoke. Both of them
had blond hair and blue eyes, but the one who’d called himself
Oberfurer
Werner had a tall, muscular build and several medals on his breast pocket. He’d combed his thick, shiny hair back, using oil to keep it in place. His chiseled features and the sme
ll of his expensive cologne gave Petra the impression of
a ladies’ man. The other fellow
was small and thin, with a pale gray pallor.  He was of a lesser rank, which was obvious from the lack of medals on his coat
. He wore thick spectacles
,
which he constantly pushed up as they slid back down his nose. With his slender shoulders, and delicate
face,
hands and feet, if dres
sed differently, he
could
have passed for a
young woman
.

Th
e three
of them
entered a café on the corner of a
busy street and took a table by
the window. Each table
boasted
a small vase of red and white carnations
,
and a matching
red and white
tablecloth. When the waitress took their order
,
Oberfurer
Werner took
a moment to smile at her
and admire the girl’s ample bosom. Then
,
with a seductive smile
,
he ordered blood sausage,
with rice and thick black bread -
enough for the entire table. Becker ordered
sauerbrauten
with fried potatoes;
this plate arrived first. Grease formed dark pools around the entree. “Would you like some,
Frauline
?” Werner offered Petra some of his partner
’
s food.

“Oh, no
, thank you,
” Petra half smiled but she kept her arms folded across her chest. Both men drank
from
large glass mugs of rich
,
dark beer.

“You like German beer,
Frauline
?” Werner asked.

“I don’t drink much be
er.”

“It’s a bit bitter to the taste unless you are used to it
;
then it is quite wonderful,” he said. His smile and manner
were charming.

When the rest of the food arrived, the sight of the sausage made Petra’s stomach turn. Taking a slice of the black bread from the center of the table, she picked at it, trying to control the nausea.

“Would you care for something else,
Frauline
?
A chicken cutlet, perhaps?”
Werner seemed genuinely concerned. “If there
is anything
I can get for you
,
please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thank you, no. I think it is just my condition.” Once the
crusty dough of the bread touched
her tongue, she realized that she was famished
, “Maybe I will have a beer.”

With a smile
, Werner turned to the waitress,
“Please, can you bring a beer for the
Frauline
?”

“Yes, of course,” t
he waitress
repli
ed
;
her face lit up
at
the attention
from
the attractive officer.

Once the beer arrived
,
Petra took a sip and began to feel the nausea subside. But she decided not to risk becoming ill on the remainder of the journey, so she opted not to eat anything else.

T
he two men nodded to each other
as if they had seen other pregnant women they’d escorted to the Institute with the same weak stomac
h
. Then Werner offered Petra a warm smile.

“You must try to eat, of c
ourse, to keep the baby healthy,” he
said.

“Yes, I know. I am sure I will be fine once I arrive at
Steinhoring
.”

“It is very lovely,” Werner offered
as he paid the check and left a large tip for the waitress. Who knew, one day he might be passing through this same town and have a little more time to devote to getting to know the girl better.

“
I am only planning to be at Heim
Hockland
temporarily. My future husband is at the Russian front fighting for the cause. When he comes back we will adopt the baby. Of course, we will raise it to follow the Nazi doctrine as is expected of us.”

“
Good. He sounds like a good man,
” Werner said.

“Yes, he is a good man.” Petra knew that she and
Hans had no intention
of following any doctrine at all once Hans came home from the army. Neither of them knew much about the Third Reich or any other politics for that matter, and neither of them cared. Hans had been drafted and forced to serve. He had found Petra his only joy on his tour of duty. But to ensure her place at Heim
Hockland
for the time being, she told her escort
s
what they expected to hear.

Petra was ushered to the back of a comfortable automobile. Once the officer closed the door, she ran her fingers along the fine leather seats. The rich smell of c
owhide, combined with Werner
’s cologne,
fill
ed her senses.

After a long ride leading out of the city, the countryside on the outskirts of Munich came into view. Petra, too concerned with her destination
to pay attention to the surroundings
during the ride
, missed all of the beauty.

The black Mercedes turned slowly off the main road and onto a long private driveway. It continued around the circular path until it pulled up in front of a large country home. Heim
Hockland
looked like a fairy-tale castle
surrounded by large shady trees and colorful flowering plants. Inside, expensive original artwork adorned the walls. The hardwood floors were covered with imported rugs and polished daily to a shine that
reflected the light. A huge red
brick fireplace stood along the west wall; to the right of it was a magnificent black grand piano. As a child, Petra had learned to play. She wondered
she would have the opportunity to play this beautiful instrument while she was here.
As she looked around, Petra was astounded, for she had never seen such opulence. A large
-bodied woman of middle age wearing
a floral printed dress entered the room to greet them.

“I'm Frau
Klingerman
. You must be Petra.”

“I am.”

“We have been
expecting you
,
Frauline
. But before anything else, we must first do a few tests. You realize that it is very important that we are sure both you and the father of the baby are of pure
Aryan
blood.”

Petra nodded cautiously. She had not anti
cipated testing of any kind. Somewhat shaken
, she followed the older woman. She must pass the tests. She could not be turned away. She had nowhere else to go.

She was taken to a sterile room bustling with doctors and nurses
,
where her weight and measurements w
ere taken. Next there was a thorough
examination of her skull and eyes. Following this, Petra endured days of questioning concerning her ancestry and that of the child's father. Even though Hans had pre-register
ed her, she found she was still required to
undergo the complete process. Nearly a week passed as she waited anxiously before she re
ceived the notice of acceptance.

Here at Heim
Hockland
, an unwed mother received the finest care for bearing a child for Hitler and showing he
r devotion to the cause. While c
arrying the
future leaders of the
Third Reich
, the women were given
fresh meats, fruits, cheeses, milk, and vegetables
to eat
three times ea
ch day. Himmler
insisted upon it, regardless of the fact that the res
t of the country did without.
Hitler’s right-hand man, he
came to speak to the girls at least once a month
,
to convey
the gratitude and pride of the
Reich toward these women and the sacrifice they were making
.