Page 23 of Who We Think We Are

W hen Kate and Mikelia get back to their hotel room, they prop themselves up on their beds, turn on their laptops, and open Google Translate. Mikelia pulls the two envelopes out of the box and hands the one with the Post-it note to Kate. Kate enters the words on the note into Google Translate.

“The note says, ‘Katje, I was the only one who knew. Love, Oom Dirk.’ He was the only one who knew what?!”

“I’m guessing the answer to that question is in these envelopes.”

“OK. We can do a more thorough translation later, but let’s scan these for obvious things like location, the date the baby was born, and so on.”

“I see the word Luxembourg!” says Mikelia. “Oma moved into the Luxembourg Lebensborn home on 30 April. Give me some of your sheets. All the action is going to happen at the end.”

Kate hands her some sheets from the end of her stack. After a few minutes, Kate says, “Oma had her baby on 19 December 1942, and it was a girl! She named her Anneke.”

“Kate! The baby had red hair! She spent a few days with the baby, and then they took her away. Oh my God, how sad. Oma left the home on 22 December 1942.”

“When I found that lock of red hair in her jewelry box, Oma said, ‘I spent a few days with an angel.’ What does Anneke mean?”

Mikelia looks it up and says, “Anneke means little angel.”

Kate feels a pain deep in her chest, closes her eyes, and takes a deep breath.

“Poor Oma. That must have broken her heart, giving that baby up.

But she was only sixteen and poor. How could she take care of her?

And even if she wanted to, they would have taken the baby away from her. The baby belonged to the Nazis.

“We can talk about this more later. I want to send Carole Messer an email with this new information.”

Kate sends an email to Carole and receives a quick reply.

Greetings, Kate,

This added information should help us quite a bit if there is anything to be found.

Of course, the SS would not have kept the name Anneke, but when associated with the birth mother’s name, Katrina Van Dijk, the name of the Lebensborn home, and the date of birth, we have a chance of success.

I will check the records in the archives and take the information to my staff meeting tomorrow, but because tomorrow is Friday, don’t expect to hear anything from us until after the weekend.

Best, Carole Messer

“That’s all we can do for now,” says Kate. “But I can’t stay here in Utrecht. I will lose my mind or jump out of my skin! Do you want to go to Berlin in the morning? I’m on the Rail Europe website. There’s a train that will get us there by noon. I’ve never been to Berlin.”

“I’d love to go to Berlin with you, but then I have to go home. I’ve got to show up at work sometime, or I’ll lose my job.”

“That makes two of us, yet here I am.”

Kate and Mikelia are settled into their seats with tea and pastries at six the next morning. Kate says, “When you were sleeping last night, I was wide awake, so I made a reservation at a hotel close to a tram station and the river, so it should be easy to get around and go for nice walks.”

“Great. I’m glad you told me because that’s what I was going to do now. So, I can enjoy the train ride and read my book.”

Kate opens her laptop to continue translating excerpts from Oma’s journal.

“I feel like I’m getting to know Oma as a teenager.

Listen to this. At the beginning of the journal, she says, ‘I am finally at the maternity home in Luxembourg. I have a nice sunny room with a view of the pretty garden. The food is delicious; I eat like one of the pigs at the trough at my aunt’s farm.

I am writing a diary on the nice paper in my room. ’

“But several months later, the luster is wearing off: ‘I must write about this home because it is very strange, and I can’t talk about it. The home is lovely, and we are treated well. But outside of this house, there is a war. People are dying, and my family is hungry, but I am here being fed like a fatted calf, having a baby for the German Reich.’

“And there’s this one: ‘I feel like a German shepherd breeding bitch, having a puppy for the Führer.’

“The longer she was there, the more disillusioned and angrier she got. She was a teenager with the same kind of angst we all had, defying her mother and doing what her friends were doing. At sixteen, Suze and I lied to our parents about what we were doing so we could see our boyfriends. That’s how I got kicked out of the house.

Oma lied about being in the Hitler Youth and having a baby for the Nazis.

But actually, we both got kicked out for lying. ”

Kate stares out of the window at the German countryside. “It’s hard to think of Oma as a teenager struggling with whether to be a Nazi collaborator.”

“Oma was not so much a collaborator as a girl faced with choiceless choices,” says Mikelia.

Kate keeps translating and says, “Here’s one that’ll break your heart: ‘I started a job today teaching German to the Polish children they are bringing to the home. Those filthy Nazis are stealing blonde-haired, blue-eyed children from their parents in Poland and teaching them to be German. The children cry and cry. They’re so scared and confused.

We girls try to comfort them. God have mercy on me.

What have I done? These people are beasts.

I will go home soon, but these children will never be able to go home. ’

“Poor Oma,” says Kate. “Oh God. The last entry says: ‘I go home today. It will be good to see Mama and my brothers. I will tell everyone the baby died, so I won’t have to talk about it. It will be like it never happened.

“I had two days to spend with my baby. I named her Anneke because she was a little angel. She has red hair, and when no one was looking, I cut a lock of it and put it in my apron pocket. I was worried that they would kill her because she had red hair.

“‘But out of my window today, I saw a couple walking out of the home with Anneke and getting into the back seat of a big black Mercedes.

The man was in an SS uniform, and his wife had light red hair and carried Anneke as her own.

In a way, it is true that my baby died. And their baby was born in front of my eyes.

“‘One day, I hope to get married and have children of my own, but how can I tell my husband about what I’ve done? Giving a baby away? How can I ever forgive myself?’

“I think you’re right, Mikelia.” Tears form in Kate’s eyes. “How much of a real choice did Oma have? The Nazis promised a future. Hitler would fix everything. There were jobs, food, and hope. I could see the seduction of that. They didn’t know how it was all going to turn out.

“I feel so ashamed. I don’t want to admit this, but ever since I found out Oma had been in the Hitler Youth, I’ve been judging her for siding with the Nazis.

Only now can I see how victimized she was.

” Kate puts her laptop in her bag and closes her eyes.

She doesn’t want to talk anymore, but tears continue to roll down her face.

After a long while, Kate opens her eyes and sits quietly, looking at the lush German countryside.

“Here I am, comfy, sleepy, and full in first class, heading east on a train across Germany. I can get off the train any time I choose. I keep thinking of millions of Jews packed like cattle on trains heading east toward torture and death on these very tracks. Or the stolen Polish children heading west to become Nazis.”

“They must have felt terrified and completely helpless,” says Mikelia.

“And hopeless,” adds Kate.

Kate thinks about Suze and her family, feeling a pang of guilt, just as she does every time she thinks of Suze these days, and starts playing with the fringe on her shawl.

“You know Suze’s family story. I’ve known this history my whole life, but by reading GG’s letters, I’m learning more, and being here makes it all more real.

Suze’s great-grandparents, Saul and Sarah, sacrificed everything to help as many Jews get out of Nazi Germany as possible. ”

Kate stares out the window as she continues.

“In 1943, Saul was warned that he was going to be rounded up by the Gestapo.

He and Sarah had prepared for that moment.

She went into hiding with their non-Jewish best friends.

She wanted to make sure she survived so she could see her children again.

The family made a special space for her by cutting a bit off two rooms and squeezing a room in between for her to hide in.

Can you believe the risk that family took?

“But there was no way Saul would go into hiding. He would rather die fighting the Nazis. So, he joined the resistance, but he never returned home after the war. The family has no idea what happened to him. Sarah waited two years after the war to see if he would come home before she moved to Canada to be with her children.”

Kate closes her eyes and pauses for the second time today. Her insides feel like they are being torn out of her. With tears rolling down her face, she opens her eyes and looks at Mikelia. “So, can you see why it was so gut-wrenching for me to learn that Oma and her family were Nazis?”

Mikelia passes Kate some tissues. “You’re not responsible for what your ancestors did. You know that, right? And we found out that Oma’s mother helped a Jewish family. Everything is so complex, even on just one side of your family.

“There’s a museum in Berlin that I’ve been to. It’s the Resistance Memorial Center. There are displays of all the ways Germans resisted the Nazis and even a section dedicated to the Jewish Resistance. Would you like to go there?”

“Yes. Maybe I could learn something to help Suze, Arela, and Bubbie.”