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44
HADAMAR
October 1945
It was mid-morning, and the sky was a cloudless bright blue, as Corporal Harding drove his jeep down the steep road that led to Hadamar.
‘We’re looking for a psychiatric hospital, Joe,’ Leila shouted over the roar of the engine. ‘I was told it’s a grim-looking grey building on a hillside overlooking the town.’
‘Is that it up there, Major?’
‘Yes, that looks like it.’
At the end of the road leading up to the hospital, Joe stopped the jeep at a US army checkpoint. ‘Major Labowski to see Major Fischer of the war crimes investigations team.’
‘Go through, ma’am,’ said the guard, saluting.
Joe parked the jeep in front of the hospital. Leila climbed out and looked around. The hospital itself was a long two-storey brick building, surrounded by well-tended gardens. An unkempt young man was raking fallen leaves from the drive and placing them in a wheelbarrow.
‘There must be an army canteen somewhere, Joe. Why don’t you go and have something to eat. I could be some time.’
The main hospital entrance was in the centre of the building. Leila pressed the bell-push and waited. The door was finally opened by a young soldier, who saluted.
‘Major Labowski to see Major Fischer,’ Leila said firmly.
‘Yes, ma’am. I’ll get word to him immediately. Please take a seat.’
The entrance hall was impressive, with a stone-flagged floor and high ceiling. Leila sat on a high-backed chair in one corner, observing the bustling activity. Men and women in uniform came in and out through the front door, chatting and laughing. In many ways its atmosphere resembled the Bad Homburg headquarters. The army, Leila had observed, had a way of taking a space over completely – of making it their own.
Peter Fischer arrived shortly afterwards. ‘Leila! I’m so glad to see you. Let’s go to my office.’
He led her along the corridor and, for the first time since she had arrived, Leila saw civilians – emaciated, sad-looking individuals who were sweeping and mopping floors. At the end of the corridor, Peter stopped outside an office markedMatron.
‘This is my office – ignore the sign! They haven’t got around to changing it yet.’ He smiled. ‘It’s the cause of a few jokes around here.’
He held the door open for her. ‘Please come in.’
The room was cramped, and Peter had to take a pile of files off the visitor’s chair to make room for her to sit down. ‘I’m sorry about the mess, we’re a bit short of space.’
‘It’s fine, Peter. Those people I saw just now – mopping the floors – are they residents here?’
Peter nodded. ‘When we first arrived, there were still a few people living here – patients who had somehow become domestic servants – well, they were more like slaves really, because they received no wages.
‘We’re trying to contact their families, but some of them have been so traumatised they don’t even remember their names. Until we can get them settled, it seemed kinder to keep them on, pay them a wage and give them a roof over their heads. Coffee?’
‘Thank you, yes. So, how’s it going?’
He sighed as he laid the coffee cup in front of her. ‘You know, Leila, there are times in life when the sheer brutality of one’s fellow man seems impossible to believe. The things we’ve uncovered here are just appalling. To be honest, no adjective that I can think of is up to the task.’
‘Tell me…’
‘If I may, I’ll start at the beginning – and forgive me if you already know some of the background. This place was originally set up as a psychiatric hospital. But back in the mid-thirties they turned it into a sterilisation centre for people they deemed “unworthy to breed”.’ He held up his fingers, making quotation marks in the air.
‘I knew about that,’ said Leila. ‘Before I left Germany, I wrote a piece for thePostabout the new law. After that, sterilisation quickly became widespread – it was a disgrace.’
‘Well in 1939 they went a step further and the whole hospital became…how should I put it…a centre for extermination.’
Leila felt her heart thump; had Clara been ‘exterminated’?
