Your Eyes in Stars (14 page)

September 3, 1946

Dear Jessica,

In 1944 I married a violinist I met in Paris, where I have lived since 1943. In summers, we come to the Languedoc in southern France, where we have a small villa.

It was unthinkable to so many that my daughter, Elisa, became such a zealous member of the
Bund deutscher Mädel
in 1936.

Few knew how terribly she suffered when the Red Cross informed us that Heinz had died in Dachau. The Germans were aware of Heinz’s socialist leanings and looked for any reason to rid the world of him. Word got through to us that Heinz was shot in the legs and then hung by his feet in freezing weather for continuing to play chess while Hitler’s speech was being broadcast in the Dachau bunkhouses.

Shortly after Heinz was taken, Elisa learned that her beloved professor Herr Doktor Kai Kahn had been killed in the street, in front of his apartment.

Even I was surprised to see Elisa strut about in the navy-blue-and-white uniform of the
Bund deutscher Mädel.
But I did not discuss her newly found patriotism with her or try to discourage her. I knew she had suffered those losses, and I was sure she was terrified too, for the Nazi government had no one to answer to. On whim they took away whomever they wanted to. Your fine citizen Reinhardt Schwitter was killed in Dachau finally too. Rumors were that for a time he was made to play his violin for those in line to be gassed. Then it was his turn.

At the time I thought maybe Elisa is right: Break
with any Jews, friends of Jews, sympathizers, even those with dichotomous surnames. Better to join the Nazis than to be harassed by them, possibly killed.

What I did not understand was my daughter. I had no inkling that she was this brave, courageous child who had on her own made contact with the resistance. Posing as a loyal member of the
Bund deutscher Mädel,
she did underground work for a partisan organization involved in hiding Jews and undermining the everyday functioning of the Reich.

I had no knowledge of that affiliation, for those courageous people could not even confide in the ones closest to them. I am not even sure today exactly when she joined the resistance. I believe she made contact with them through her old professor, Kai Kahn, just before they shot him. She was growing increasingly cautious about things. I remember how she disapproved of our having the Schwitters by to see if we had space for their Beckstein piano. I expected her father to reprimand her, but he did not, and often I wonder if he knew something about her plan or even assisted her. She could never do anything to give away her position. Therefore I never knew the courage of my beloved only child.

She was killed in 1942, by then operating as a courier for a resistance group hiding in the forest not far from my mother’s home in Potsdam. Of course she knew those woods very well from playing there as a child.

I do not have and do not want the exact details of her death. I did, however, receive just last winter a small bundle of her belongings from someone who was able to track me down here in Aniane. There were not many things there, but all your letters were saved.

I thought you might like to have them, and they are enclosed. I also felt obliged to write you, so you know finally what became of Elisa.

May God bless you and your family.

Sincerely,
Sophie Stadler Leblanc

September 29, 1946

Dear Mrs. Leblanc,

I am so very sorry to learn details of Heinz Stadler’s death, and of course my beloved Elisa’s.

Dieter Schwitter, Wolfgang’s younger brother, is my
Verlobter,
so I knew about Reinhardt Schwitter’s murder by the Nazis. I thank you very much for writing me about Elisa and for sending the letters I wrote to her.

I thought of her always as my dearest friend, even though we knew each other for such a short time. I do not think I would be at Cornell University now, earning my Ph.D. in English literature, if our paths had never crossed. It was Elisa who taught me to love language, poetry, and literature. She was the one I always thought of as “the teacher,” and now I am set on my own path to becoming a teacher myself, and perhaps a writer. Elisa used to tell me I told “sensational” stories. She was such a good listener too.

Elisa would have liked to know that our friend Richard Nolan declared himself a conscientious objector rather than fight in any war, and he was in a CO camp doing civilian service without pay for four years. The first time Elisa and I went anywhere together, it was to the film
All Quiet on the Western Front,
which as you know is about a pacifist.

My brother, Seth, was killed fighting in the Pacific in 1942. We feel fortunate that we have his
son, Arthur Horace, age six, living in Cayuta with J. J. Joy Myrer. They live across the street from my mother, in the old Sontag house.

Thank you again for your kindness.

Jessica Myrer