Page 34 of Who We Think We Are
“Dinner will be here in about half an hour,” says Kate.
Frida takes a sip of her wine, leans back in her chair, and says, “Well, I might as well get started. I grew up in a small town called Lüneburg, and my name is Bertrun. I feel silly being called by mein hund, my dog’s name, and we are here looking for the truth, aren’t we? Therefore, I will start with my name.”
Kate smiles, and her heart skips a beat . I’m about to hear the truth! “Pleased to meet you, Bertrun. That’s a lovely name. Thanks for telling us.”
“I want to. It’s time. I had an idyllic childhood.
My father was a family doctor, and my mother was a nurse until I was adopted.
After that, she was a housewife. I was the eldest, born during the war.
After the war, we moved to Lüneburg, and my parents had a son, Hans, and a daughter, Renate, who is Ingrid’s mother.
They are all gone. Heart attacks or cancer.
Ingrid, my son Martin, and I are the only ones left.
My mother passed away about six months ago from a broken heart, I think, after my brother, Hans, died.
” Bertrun has tears in her eyes. “Ingrid, could you please carry on for me?”
“I will, Tante Bertrun. After Oma died, Tante Bertrun went to Opa’s hunting cabin to do some spring cleaning.
She was sweeping under the bed when she found, shoved far into a corner, a green metal World War II footlocker.
She managed to get it out by poking and shoving it with the broom handle.
She lifted the locker onto the bed and opened it. ”
“And what did I find?” Bertrun takes over.
“An SS uniform. I pulled it out, and there were papers underneath. Documentation of mein vater, my father, as a doctor for the SS, and meine mutter, my mother, as a nurse at Ravensbrück concentration camp, where they met. After the war, they changed their names and moved to a quiet town. Somehow, the center of Lüneburg was not damaged by the bombing in World War II, so it is quaint and historic. They liked living in a town that the war forgot. I also found adoption papers for me. My parents adopted me from a Lebensborn home.”
Bertrun looks directly at Kate. “I was born at the Luxembourg Lebensborn home on 19 December 1942, and the name my birth mother gave me was Anneke. My last name and the birth mother’s name were not on the document.” Bertrun’s voice is quivering. “I’m sorry, Ingrid. Could you please tell the rest?”
“As you can imagine,” says Ingrid, “All of this came as a complete shock to Tante Bertrun. She didn’t know any of this. None of it.”
Bertrun cuts in again. “Here I am, almost seventy-three, finding out that my parents were in the SS, that I was adopted, and that I was a Lebensborn baby. It is very difficult. I am not who I thought I was. My parents are gone, so I can’t ask them about it.
When I lived in Berlin, I went to Ravensbrück on a tour, and since I learned that my parents worked there, I’ve read several books on the camp.
Were my parents, especially my father, who was a doctor there, war criminals?
Did he commit medical experimentation on the poor women at Ravensbrück?
I’ve been too afraid to delve into it. I may not like what I find.
If you had met him as the family doctor he was in Lüneburg, you would have said he was gentle, kind, and not capable of harming even a fly. That’s the father I remember.”
“And the grandfather I remember,” adds Ingrid.
“Poor Ingrid, this has been tough on you, too,” says Bertrun. “My mother, Gertrude, had light-red hair. I’m sure that’s why they adopted me. Meine roten haare, my red hair, is a deeper shade of red than my mother’s, but it was believable that I was her child.
“When I found the footlocker and learned all these things, I wanted to pretend I had never found it, pretend none of it was true, that none of it had happened. I gave it all to my son and told him to get rid of it. He said he would take care of it. I didn’t tell him, but I had made a copy of the papers because, of course, those secrets that I was adopted and was a Lebensborn baby were mine.
So, about a month ago, I contacted Ingrid, who, as you know, is a historian at Arneson Archives, and asked her if she would come to visit.
I showed her the documents. I need to face the truth, even if it is difficult.
I’m sorry it has been difficult for you too, liebste, my sweetheart. ”
The food arrives, and they go to sit at the table.
They have beef bourguignon and a small salad, and for dessert, an apple flap, a sweet pastry filled with apples, raisins, sugar, and cinnamon, with homemade ice cream on the side.
Their conversation over dinner stays within lighter themes: children, grandchildren, family traditions, favorite recipes, etc.
After dinner, Bertrun says, “Well, girls, it is time for me to go to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“I’ll walk you to our room, Tante Bertrun. Is it OK if I come back?” Ingrid asks.
Kate and Mikelia say yes, and Kate adds, “I’ll make tea.”
“Great,” Ingrid whispers to Kate. “I’ve got some things I want to discuss with you.”