Page 10 of Library of Forbidden Books

She was wearing her most humdrum clothing. Since the “new Germans” disapproved of miniskirts, cleavage, and bright colors, the styles of the Roaring Twenties were officially defunct. Countless stores had closed, and people the Nazis considered undesirable—Jews, beggars, and homosexuals—stayed off the streets or out of the downtown areas. Those who did not, often wound up in the hospital or the cemetery.

Lena, waiting at the trolley stop, lit up with a smile when she saw Helene, and they sat together on the bench.

“Klaus stayed at the library. There’s not much work today, especially since all our projects with the working-class children and the literacy campaigns have been cut. The only ones coming through the doors are a few retired people, some of the children who live close by, and a handful of university students.”

Helene’s chest was tight as Lena described their reality aloud. The past two months had formed dark circles under Helene’s eyes, and her skin had paled to the shade of heroine-in-a-nineteenth-century-romantic-novel.

As soon as they stepped into the trolley car, an unpleasant odor met them. All the riders were clumped together at the front, and the young women soon understood why. At the back, a man was vomiting. Helene’s first instinct was to see if he needed help, but a glance at his ratty jacket, dirty face, and hole-pocked shoes gave her pause.

Several people got off at the next stop, unable to take the stench of sweat, urine, and vomit. Three SA officers got on. In any other context, their ridiculous brown uniforms would have made them look like overgrown school children. They saw the drunk man and one lifted the man’s head with his nightstick. The vagabond’s blue eyes stared at them in terror.

“Don’t you know that scum like you aren’t allowed on the trolleys?” the oldest Nazi demanded. He was as beardless as the others but had a prominent beer gut.

“I’ve got a ticket . . .” the beggar mumbled from behind his curly gray beard, soaked with vomit.

“You’re a disgrace to our race! Filth like you doesn’t deserve to live!” the Nazi yelled as he raised his nightstick and delivered the first blow to the man’s face.

Blood splattered onto the officers’ boots.

“Look what you’ve done!” the enraged Brownshirt roared. His comrades joined the beating.

The beggar curled up into a ball in the vain attempt to protect himself. His groans and screams filled the trolley. Everyone took a collective step away from the violence, but Lena could not stand it.

She lunged forward and yelled, “Stop!” into the oldest Nazi’s ear.

He turned in shock that anyone would question him, then gave her a malicious grin. The teeth that were not missing were a nasty yellow.

“What did you say, ma’am?” he demanded in the typical condescending tone of the Nazis toward women.

“You’re going to kill him. Just let him get off the trolley. He’s just a harmless old man.” Lena was trying to quell her anger as she talked. She knew what the brutes were capable of.

The three men stopped. They all sized her up, trying to determine what she was after. Then the oldest burst out laughing, and his cronies followed suit.

Helene stepped forward and took Lena’s arm. It was cold and trembling.

The SA raised their nightsticks at Lena, and Helene screamed, “Leave her alone!”

Just then a passenger stepped forward and flashed his ID. The SA officers immediately deflated.

“Very good, boys. Your work here is finished. Get this poor devil out of here and leave him alone.”

The SA did not hesitate to obey the authority in the passenger’s voice. They called for the conductor to stop the car and dragged out the old man, tossing him unceremoniously onto the sidewalk before the diverted gazes of the passersby.

As soon as the trolley had resumed its course, the mysterious passenger turned to the young women and smiled. He had a beautiful face, the prototype of Aryan grace extolled by the Nazis, marred only by a small scar on his chin. Two dimples nestled in his clean-shaven cheeks, and the beard shadow indicated that his would be full if allowed to grow.

“I apologize for what happened here. Sometimes zeal gets the better of these boys. My name is Wilhelm Schmidt, of the Prussian Secret Police.”

Helene and Lena blanched but tried to hide their terror. With clenched jaws, they stood straighter.

“Thank you,” Helen eked out, trying not to sound suspicious. Sweat was dripping down her back.

“May I escort you to wherever you’re going? Things are far from calm in the city. The communists and socialists are unwilling to accept defeat. We’re after them and will soon have them far away, but brawls in the street are not uncommon. A little chaos now will pave the way for order to reign.” As he spoke, Wilhelm was carefully sizing them up, not in a sexual way, but to ascertain who they were and where they were going.

Helene pulled the cord, and the bell chimed. “Thank you so much, but that won’t be necessary. This is our stop.”

As the car slowed, Wilhelm looked out the open door. “You’re going to the university? I thought you looked like students. Have a wonderful day!” He raised his hat to them.

Without a word, Helene and Lena got off the trolley and hurried to the university.