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‘Never mind,’ said Alec, taking her arm and rushing her down the corridor. ‘There’s a big story brewing in Germany. Hugh wants to see us in his office urgently.’
‘Oh dear, I hope it’s not too serious,’ said Leila, struggling to keep pace – she was always anxious about bad news from her home country.
Carleton Green stood up as the pair arrived. ‘Hello both of you. Do please take a seat, and I’ll come straight to the point. We’ve been sent the text of a sermon given by the Bishop of Munster. It seems that Herr Hitler is proposing to terminate the lives of those he considers unproductive – the elderly and disabled – even children with disabilities. The bishop is, quite rightly, incensed. I’ve got a copy of the sermon here – the key passage is marked. Have a look.’
‘My God,’ Leila gasped as she and Alec quickly scanned the text.
Do you or I have the right to live only as long as we are productive? If so, then someone has only to order a secret decree that the measures tried out on the mentally ill be extended to other ‘non-productive’ people, that it can be used on those incurably ill with a lung disease, or weakened by aging, or disabled at work…even on severely wounded soldiers. Then not a one of us can be sure of his life any more.
‘It’s strong stuff, isn’t it?’ said Hugh. ‘Can I ask, Leila…did you have any inkling of this?’
‘Yes, to a degree…the concept of eugenics has been around as part of Nazi ideology since the early thirties, and my newspaper wrote several editorials about it. What has always surprised and horrified me is the widespread support it has among the scientific establishment. In fact, some physicians were already ahead of the politicians, particularly in the field of sterilising people with disabilities. But to proceed from sterilisation to murder is a giant step. I can’t believe Hitler will be able to carry the public with him on that.’
‘That’s why we feel it’s so important to tell the German people what’s going on,’ said Hugh. ‘The British government have ordered the text of the bishop’s sermon to be printed in leaflets and dropped by the RAF across Europe. They have also asked us to broadcast extracts from the bishop’s sermon over the next few days. Highest priority, Alec…understood?’
Reading the words of the Bishop of Munster that day in the bulletin, Leila managed to maintain a professional detachment. But when she had finished and was alone in the studio, linking between a satirical comedy and a talk by Thomas Mann, she found anger building up inside her. The German people had been remorselessly encouraged to think that Aryan perfection was the basis of a sound society – first by dehumanising Jews, and culminating in this latest doctrine that all imperfect Germans were a drain on society and should be eliminated.
MrSullivan at the Foreign Office had been right: Hitler and Goebbels had persuaded the German people that the unthinkable was, in fact, the solution. And it was up to people like her to alert her countrymen to the horror that was about to engulf them.
31
BERLIN
August 1941
The air raid sirens started some time in the middle of the night, rousing Minki from her sleep. She shook Max awake. ‘We have to get the children into the basement.’
As the planes rumbled overhead, the family and their two maids scurried down to the coal cellar. Air raids had become more frequent in recent months, so Minki had made the space habitable – with a couple of old mattresses and some blankets, along with books and playing cards for the children. While Clara lay snuggled up in an old eiderdown, reading, the boys were too excited to sleep. As the planes rumbled overhead, the house shook with each falling bomb.
‘What planes are they?’ asked Willy, standing by the cellar door. ‘Can we go outside and have a look, Papa?’
‘Of course you can’t, Willy,’ said Minki firmly. ‘Sit down immediately. There’s no way you’re going outside in a raid.’
Reluctantly, Willy did as he was told, and he and his brother began to play a desultory game of cards.
The night passed slowly. The maids and children eventually slept, while Minki and Max spent a restless night anxiously listening to the waves of aircraft passing overhead.
‘I think the explosions are getting farther away each time, don’t you, Max?’
‘Possibly. Hopefully we’re past the worst.’
Finally the engine noise subsided. A glimmer of light shone through the tiny cellar window and the birds began to sing in the garden outside.
‘Thank God that’s over,’ said Minki, standing and stretching.
Suddenly there was a choking noise from the floor.
‘Oh no,’ said Max, irritatedly. ‘Not this…not now.’
‘It’s all right,’ said Minki calmly, arranging Clara carefully on a mattress to ensure she was safe. ‘You really have to get used to it, Max.’
‘I can’t,’ he replied petulantly. ‘It reminds me of my aunt…I saw her fitting once as a child and it appalled me.’
‘Well, thank God neither of our boys react in such a childish fashion.’
‘Is it Clara?’ asked Felix, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and shaking his brother awake. They took up positions on either side of their sister, one singing to her, the other stroking her hair.
The maids also began to wake up. But instead of coming to Clara’s aid, they kept their distance, almost as if they disapproved of her illness. In fact, Ida had once suggested that Clara might be better off in a children’s home. Minki had told her firmly that if she ever made such a comment again she would be dismissed instantly. Since then, the girl had kept her thoughts to herself but, as Clara slowly recovered and opened her eyes, Minki noticed Ida’s familiar look of disapproval.
