You Are My Sunshine: A Novel Of The Holocaust (All My Love Detrick Companion Novel) (3 page)

Goebbels
limped dragging his leg towards the back of the building and Manfred followed.

Once they were in the
office. Goebbels motioned for Manfred to sit.

“Now
, let me see what this idea is that you have.”

Manfred handed him the portfolio. He could hear the clock ticking overhead as the doctor slowly leafed through his work.

“This is very good. You know our Fuehrer is an artist…in fact he is a very good one. But not as good as, he is a leader. As a leader he is a God.”

“Yes, sir,
” Manfred looked around the office. Pictures of Hitler adorned the walls. A Nazi flag flew from the ceiling.

“This is very good.”
Goebbels repeated, running his fingers over his lips. “Effective too, I’d like to include these in my publication. Have you ever seen my magazine “Der Angriff?”

“Yes sir, I have.”

“And?”

“It’s brilliant, sir.” Manfred said clearing his throat.”

“I founded that periodical. It is like my baby, you know my special creation.”

“Yes, I am aware
of this.”

Goebbels liked the boy. In Manfred, Goebbels
saw himself as a youth. They shared willingness to work and an obvious need to overcome the obstacles of being less than an athlete. Neither of them had ever fit in, nor had they been accepted by their peers. Goebbels remembered how he’d suffered at the hands of his fellow students due to his crippled leg caused by infant paralysis. He wanted to help Manfred, not so much because of Manfred but because Manfred’s success would be another blow to those athletic boys who had been born perfect.

“Would you like to have your work in my
magazine?”

“O
h, yes. It would be a great honor sir.”

“Hmmm” Goebbels
nodded as he studied Manfred “Let me make you aware that it’s highly unusual for me to hire a boy right off the street. Take him under my wing and bring him into the party, especially directly into the SS. You do realize this? I mean this is what you are asking of me.” Goebbels had the power to do this to take a boy an underachiever and give him the uniform, but until now, it had been unheard of. It was a rigorous road to be accepted into the SS, one Goebbels knew Manfred could not achieve without his intervention. Well, why not. That’s what power meant wasn’t it? He would take this boy and mold him.

“
Yes sir.” Manfred looked down at his hands they were trembling. He felt the sweat trickle down the back of his shirt.

“But in many ways, Manfred, you remind me
of myself, my old self. The way I was at your age. You see my leg? I am a cripple. I had infant paralysis. So, I know what you went through in the gymnasium, and in the Jugend. I can see that you are no athlete.”

“No sir I’m not. And the others never let me forget it.”

“Ahhh, don’t I know how that can be. Those boys who are born with perfect bodies, yes, they can be terribly cruel. But you are smart. I can see that by these drawings. You know just what the country needs right now, and just how to give it them. In so many ways, you are just like I was.” Goebbels looked directly into Manfred’s eyes “So, since you don’t have the body, you have something better. You have the brain.”

“Yes sir.”

“And I can see by your cheap suit that you come from poverty. I too came from humble beginnings... However, I was fortunate. I was able to attend several universities. I graduated from Heidelberg University, with a doctorate in Philosophy. Can you just imagine the look on the faces of all those boys who’d taunted me when I returned home with doctor in front of my name?” He laughed, and then indicated the degree that hung on his wall beside the picture of Hitler. “It was the best feeling I’ve ever had in my life. Except of course, when I joined the party and Hitler took me under his wing. The way I am going to mentor you, Manfred.” Joseph Goebbels reached over and patted Manfred’s shoulder. “This, my boy, is your lucky day.”

“Thank you, sir. I will never be able to thank you enough.”

“However…. If I do this, hire you, and take you as my own special project, you must be sure never to disappoint me. Do you understand?”Goebbels said smiling.

“Yes sir.
I will never do anything to disappoint you.”

Chapter
2

All the way home on the streetcar Manfred was in shock. In fact, he was so awestruck he almost missed his stop.  It was hard to believe what had just happened. He, Manfred, the nobody, had actually met and spoken to Joseph Goebbels. And to further escalate his excitement Goebbels had offered him a job. It happened just like he’d imagined it in his day dreams when the other boys were making fun of him. Exactly the way he’d planned. Never before in Manfred’s entire life had he been showered with such good fortune.

Manfred joined the Nazi party.

On Monday morning, he arrived at the Ministry for Propaganda, bubbling with excitement.  Although he only had a small desk in the back of the secretarial pool near the coffee pot, he was thrilled to be a part of this large and important division of the Nazi party. After the first, several days Manfred realized that his job was little more than errand boy, but still he carried it out as if it were crucial to the survival of the Fatherland. For a month, he brought coffee and strudel to the high-ranking officials. He sat quietly in meetings not voicing any opinions just supportive of whatever Goebbels found agreeable. It was through his constant perseverance, willingness to work late, and lack of complaint that he won the favor of the Minister of Propaganda. And in winning Goebbels acceptance Manfred found that Goebbels was willing to take another look at his portfolio, a more serious look.

When
Goebbels ordered that Manfred’s ideas be incorporated by other artists who were higher ranking in the party to create new and innovative ways of reaching the Aryan youth in the country Manfred was flattered. Although Goebbels did not credit Manfred openly with the achievement, Manfred still felt honored to have come as far as he did. His salary also improved, along with several perks for his loyalty to the party and to the SS.

Late that summer Manfred’s father had a heart attack and died instantly. The party
rallied behind Manfred. The money for the burial along with all of the necessary arrangements was generously taken care of by the party. Manfred was given two weeks off work with pay in order to resituate his mother in the new apartment the SS had given them. Although his mother was grief stricken, she found the new flat more than luxurious. They had lived in a tenement in the poorer part of Berlin, where children ran around outside the building hungry, and dirty. Now they lived in a neighborhood where flowers lined the streets and shady trees covered the well-maintained lawns. Their lavishly furnished new home had a plush sofa, a well-made table and chairs, and two bedrooms with large beds and dressers. Food had once been scarce, but not anymore. Manfred brought home a good salary, more than enough for his mother to stop sewing and his skinny frame began to fill out. 

Every night before Manfred fell asleep, his thoughts still drifted to Christa. She was his dream girl. Everything he did he did for her. Soon he would be ready to go and find her,
to approach her, to win her, but not yet.

By December
, Manfred was more than well liked; he was a part of the inner circle. Goebbels often lunched with him, just to talk and get things off his chest. It became known that Manfred kept to himself, he never gossiped, and so secrets were safe with him. 

“Manfred, th
e Führer himself is planning a visit to our offices. I am a bit nervous. I want to be sure all goes well. Is there anyone here that you know of who might be a traitor?”

“I haven’t noticed anything like that.” Manfred said, although he had. He’d heard other men talking in the
lunchroom. They’d said things against Goebbels, even against the party.

“Watch, keep your eyes open, and listen carefully. Do you understand? We must weed out any enemies in order to be sure that our work is secure and safe.”

“Yes, I will do as you ask.”

The moral dilemma
of spying on his colleagues never entered Manfred’s mind. Up until now, he’d spent his life friendless, an artist alone, scorned by his peers in school and in the Hitler youth. Then when he’d begun working at the ministry, most of the other employees treated him like a servant. They had no qualms about talking in front of the insignificant boy who sat quietly eating his bratwurst or schnitzel sandwich, at a table alone in the corner.

“And
of course the safety of the Führer when he arrives must be taken into consideration. So, although I know you are not one to ramble on about the goings on at the office, you must keep abreast of everything and everyone here. Am I making myself perfectly clear, Manfred?”

“
Yes sir, indeed you are and I will do as you ask. You can count on me.” Manfred answered. This was a big responsibility, one that he dreaded, but he did see the necessity for it. It would mean that he had to pay attention to all of the gossip that traveled through the workplace. And Manfred hated social involvement. He preferred to be off by himself. But, if something happened to Hitler when he came to the offices of the Ministry of Propaganda all eyes would turn to Goebbels. Goebbels had been good to him, Goebbels was his only friend, and Manfred would not allow that to happen.

Nobody suspected anything. Manfred ate quietly as usual sipping his c
offee but now his ears were wide open. When he heard a derogatory comment about the party or Goebbels or Hitler himself, Manfred rushed back to his desk to document the event, the time, the place, the perpetrator. He carefully wrote verbatim everything that he heard. Then he folded the paper and hid it under his artwork in the drawer in his desk.

On Friday when the rest
of the staff left, Manfred knocked on the door to Goebbels’ office.

“Yes.”

“It’s Manfred, I have that information you asked for.”

“Come in, please.”
Goebbels said. “Sit down.”

Manfred sat then he took the
neatly folded papers out of a black artist’s notebook and presented them to Goebbels.

Jo
seph Goebbels reached into his breast pocket he took out his reading glasses and put them on.

“Hmmm,
” Goebbels grunted frowning and nodding his head as he began to read. “Some are as I suspected others come as a surprise.” He hesitated a moment. “But you Manfred...You’ve done well. Keep it up. I will get this list to the Gestapo as soon as possible. We need to have all of this investigated.
“What will happen to these people?”Manfred asked. It was a bold question, bolder than he’d ever dared to be when speaking with a superior. But a strange wave of guilt at having been the one to turn them in began gnawing at him and he had to know.

“Nothing wi
ll happen if they are innocent, but the crimes that you accuse them of are treason. That makes them enemies of our precious Fatherland.  And that makes them a danger to all of us therefore, you feel confident that you have done the right thing for Germany” Goebbels smiled. “You see son, we are Germany’s heart and soul, you and I and all of the Aryan race. We must protect her from treachery or she could fall again. Things could return to the way that they were before our great Fuehrer brought this country back to its rightful place in the world. Do you understand? Things may seem cruel, but they are not cruel, they are necessary for our very survival.”

Manfred nodded his head. He did understand.

“And,” Goebbels smiled. “There could be a promotion in your future.”

A promotion, a promotion! Manfred would finally have found a place for himself in the world. Perhaps he would be in a position worthy
of a man proposing marriage to a woman like Christa. His heart skipped a beat as he walked towards home, his mind racing. She didn’t know who he was back at school. It was not as if he could just appear at her door and say Hello, would you like to have dinner with me? Even though he already knew where she lived.  How was he to ever approach her? All night he contemplated ideas but came to no logical conclusion. Then the following day, and without any plan at all, he took the streetcar to the neighborhood where she lived.  For most of the day, he sat on a bench in the park across the street from her house.  He had a book with him, and he held it open but he never read a word. Instead, he waited to see if she would come outside.  She didn’t. Manfred waited until the sun had gone down and darkness descended upon the streets before heading back home.

“Where have you been
? I’ve been worried.”  Manfred’s mother said even before he took his jacket off.

“I was out with some friends from work.”

She nodded. “I don’t mind you going, it’s good for you to get out with people your own age, but please let me know so I don’t worry about you, alright?” She was glad he had finally made some friends. It was hard to watch him grow up as such a lonely child. But even though she was pleased, she was also a little jealous. After all, since her husband died, he was her sole companion.

Again on
the following Sunday, he went to the park across the street from Christa’s house, watching, waiting, hoping.  Not knowing what he might do or say if he saw her, but unable to leave. She did not appear.