Nazi Love

By Michael Phayer

Love twists strangely during wartime.
When World War II started, Matt, Christa, and Karl were all friends living in Munich. Matt and Christa were even engaged. But the war changed all of that. When the fighting ended, one would be dead, and the other two would have to find their way in the debris of Hitler’s Germany. None got out unscathed. Even love was replaced by something darker, seedier, something that came to be known as Nazi Love.

About the author:
Phayer took a doctorate Magna cum Laude in modern European history from Ludwig-Maximillian University (the University of Munich) and taught German history for many years at Marquette University. He is a former Senior Fulbright Research Fellow and a Fellow of the United States Hololcaust Memorial Museum. Phayer has given guest lectures throughout the United States. Nazi Love is his first novel.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael Phayer
• Release date: Jan 28, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311132772

Book preview

Nazi Love

by

Michael Phayer

Copyright © 2016 Michael Phayer

This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.

Book cover design and layout by

Laura Givens

Printed in the United States of America

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

To Pat, Christine and Frank for their love

And to Connie and Gus for their friendship

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I want to thank Richard Phayer, Dr. Laura Gellott, Thomas O’Meara, O.P., and Pat Phayer, my wife, for their help with this novel. Without their suggestions and corrections this book would never have gone to press. A special thanks also to Chris Pollock, a World War II gunner on a B-24 Liberator. Chris had to bail out at night over Germany, when his plane was shot down. Chris’ experiences became Matt’s in the novel.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Prologue

I. Christa and Matt

II. Matt at War

III. Matt, Rosa, and Rachel

IV. Nazi Love

V. Massacres in Ukraine

VI. Karl at the Maternity Clinic

VII. Junker Bombers over Stalingrad

VIII. The Saint Elizabeth Society

IX. Stalingrad: the Ground War

X. Karl’s Mission to Portugal

XI. The Nazi Babies

XII. Christa and Karl after the War

XIII. Willy

XIV. Rachel in Munich

XV. Christa’s Wedding Day

Epilogue

PROLOGUE

July 7, 1928

"Who’s that, Mutti?" Christa pointed to the picture of King Ludwig in a book she had gotten on her birthday.

He was the king of Bavaria many years ago, her mother answered.

He was very handsome, wasn’t he? Christa asked rhetorically.

Yes, I guess so.

He looks very young. How long was he the king?

He was king until he died or killed himself—no one knows which for sure.

When was that? Christa persisted.

Well, I don’t know. See if it doesn’t give the date in the caption.

"Gott im Himmel! Christa said. He died in 1864 on the same day as my birthday. Why do people think he killed himself?"

"His body was found in the water at Lake Starnberg.

I wish people wouldn’t die on my birthday. I’m afraid something bad will always happen on it.

July 7, 1930

"Mutti, why do we always have to come to the cemetery on my birthday?" Christa, eight years old, was with her father and mother at Waldfriedhof Cemetery in Munich.

"Well, Liebchen, it’s because your papa’s brother died on the same day you were born."

Was Poppa sad or happy?

Both, of course, since we very much wanted a baby, but were terribly upset by the news of your uncle Walter’s death.

Why did he die on my birthday? Does it mean bad luck for me that he died on my birthday?

No, no, it was just a coincidence. It wasn’t his choice, dear. He was killed by some thugs.

What are thugs?

Cruel people who take the law into their hands. They call themselves the Brown Shirts. They’re Nazis—followers of Hitler.

July 6, 1956

Christa and Rachel sat shoulder to shoulder on a spring day in a meadow on the banks of Lake Starnberg. This spot was a favorite haunt of Matt and me, Rachel.

Yes, so beautiful. It’s enthralling—the water, the mountains, the sky.

"Before the war Matt and I used to lie in this meadow and plan a life together.

See the passenger ship there, Rachel? Matt and I liked to go around the lake on it. I remember looking down into the deep, beautiful blue water."

What about tomorrow, Christa, your wedding? Rachel asked, hoping to awaken Christa from her reverie.

Tomorrow? Tomorrow is my birthday, Rachel. It won’t be a good day.

I. CHRISTA AND MATT

Bavarians remembered the winter of 1922 for a long time. Not because of the Nazis who had begun disrupting civic life, but because of a major storm that had stalled north of the Alps dumping blankets of snow on Munich day after day. In the middle of it Christa was born. Christa Schelling.

In another part of the city Matthias Miller had been born the year before Christa. They first became aware of each other in 1938 when Christa enrolled in the city’s university. Rather, Christa became aware of Matt. It would have served her well had she been more aware of the Nazis and less of Matt, because Hitler’s schemes, which were hatching that year of appeasement—the Munich Compromise, would bedevil her relationship with him. But it is not the way of youth to imagine that current political events will trump their future.

Christa would pass for a typical Munich or Bavarian girl in most respects. Brown eyes to go with light brown hair, people saw her as one of them—very fair, yes, but not quite a standout beauty. Yet, she stood apart from others her age because of her expression—happy but in a dreamy sort of way. A wistful look that made people wonder what she was thinking about and made young men want to please her. Christa was aware by the time she was sixteen or seventeen of the Lorelei allure she cast on young men.

That allure did not include Matt Miller, at least not right away, although he too found Christa’s melancholy, comely face attractive. This would have surprised Christa because Matt’s personality, which all girls found irresistible and led Christa to think that she was not likely to be the one that would draw his attention, delighted everyone. A little above average in height, Matt seemed to be one of those people who were always on top of the world. Smart, carefree, happy-go-lucky, funny, nothing troubled Matt whose laughing disposition won over both girls and boys, except perhaps for a few would have liked more of the limelight. Future success was written all over Matt, not the least among the qualities girls found attractive in him.

The university’s Nazi clique saw the same qualities in Matt that everyone else saw and recruited him avidly. They knew that Matt’s sparkling personality would boost their numbers and their programs. But fun-loving Matt did not have Nazi politics or dreary Nazi ideology on his mind. Too smart to shun them, Matt played for time keeping the Nazi club on a string while he went on enjoying the carefree life of a Munich university student who, once enrolled, never had to bother about exams until time for graduation which was set, not by the deans, but by the students themselves. The Nazis, as far as Matt was concerned, were just much too serious to fit into the life style of a Munich university student.

The Nazis fared better with Karl Stemper. Karl, Munich born, was handsome with a dark complexion. While enjoying university life and its incessant socializing, Karl possessed a more serious demeanor in contrast to Matt’s light-heartedness. You could say that Karl had fun but was not especially likely to be looking for it. The soldiery aspect of German nationalism appealed to Karl. Not so much the actual fighting, which had not yet commenced, but because of the smart uniforms that officers wore. More than anything else what made Karl attractive to the Nazis was his intelligence.

At the minimum age of eighteen Karl made a decision that would shape his life. He decided to join the Nazi paramilitary organization, the SS. He applied at the Munich SS office where a woman in a white frock coat measured Karl’s head, noted the color of his hair (black) and his eyes (dark), and paid special attention to his nose. She had already noted his height and weight. Next she had Karl walk to and fro in the examining room, and entered a note on her pad. Finally, she measured the arches of Karl’s feet.

After completing the physical part of the exam, Karl was taken to another office where a SS officer sat behind his desk with some loose papers in his hands. I see here that your grandfather on your mother’s side was named Rosen, the officer said without any prefatory words. He was a Jew, wasn’t he?"

No Sir, I don’t think so, Karl said. There have never been any Jewish religious or cultural traditions in our family. I remember that on special occasions like a wedding or something he would go to church with everyone. My parents and I visited him and his wife from time to time at their home, and I don’t recall ever seeing any signs of Jewish culture there such as a mezuzah. No, I’m sure he wasn’t Jewish.

What Jews have you befriended in the last five years, the SS man continued.

None, Karl said. There were two Jews in our university clique—Bernard and Joseph, forgot their last names—but they dropped out and I hadn’t been friendly with them anyway.

That abruptly ended the second part of the process. Karl feared that the officer who had questioned him about his grandfather’s possible Jewishness had not been completely satisfied with his answers.

In the next office Karl was greeted cordially by an SS captain who was holding the notes that had been taken in the first two offices. Please take a seat, the captain said. I need to ask you a few questions bearing on the Jewish question in our country, alright? Karl smiled, Certainly.

As you know, the captain went on, the government has taken a series of steps against the Jews. How do you feel about this?

I don’t think they have been overly harsh, Karl responded, if that’s what you mean. Decisive measures need to be taken regarding our Jews. We must be rid of Jews— Jew free.

This obviously pleased the captain who then asked how Germany might go about getting rid of its Jews.

I don’t know, Karl replied; I just think it’s a necessity.

Why do you want to be in the SS, the captain next inquired. Karl did not want to say it was just because the SS uniform looked snappy so he said that he thought that Germany’s future leaders would be former SS members.

The SS captain smiled again and chatted with Karl for a few minutes and then concluded the interview.

Two weeks later Karl received a letter from the SS inviting him to become a member. Karl was overjoyed and relieved. He had been afraid that his dark complexion would bar him from SS membership. That, in fact, would have been the case, but his economics degree and the answers he had given to the race questions had gotten him the nod.

As soon as Karl got his SS uniform he went to his room and put it on. Preening in front of a large mirror he ran the palms of his hands downward from his chest to his belt. He tilted the mirror downward so that he could see from his waist down to the floor. The knee length, shiny black boots sent chills up his spine. Looking at himself that day in October, 1938, Karl felt it was the proudest moment of his life. He had no way of knowing that he had chosen a path that would separate him from Christa and Matt.

Christa first spotted Matt when she got off the streetcar in front of the twin fountains on Leopoldstrasse that graced the main entrance of the university. She drifted toward Matt’s entourage. Wherever he sat in the Mensa, the university’s big, inexpensive restaurant, other students would find a place near him, and they welcomed others into their circle. This made it easy for Christa to join in with the Matt crowd.

One of the most fun times for the university students was the spring break—a few months, not weeks—between the winter and summer semesters. As the days warmed they were filled with partying in Schwabing, drinking in one of the city’s many beer gardens where the steins measured a full liter, going to bonfires out in the country, rafting on the Isar River—fun stuff just never seemed to end. Christa was having the time of her life. Though she was not conscious of it, she was relieved to be part of a group because it kept her introspective melancholia at bay.

But as far as Matt was concerned Christa held back. If there was a crowd around him, and there usually was, Christa was generally not in the thick of it. It wasn’t as though he had hangers-on, just that his light-heartedness pulled other young students to him. As much as anyone else, Christa enjoyed the good times of the university’s spring break, and that meant that she’d be in the Matt crowd—but not in the center of it. She wasn’t thinking about where life was taking her because she was having too much fun to bother about it.

Carefree Munich students missed few occasions to go dancing. Christa, as it happened, had great rhythm and learned new steps effortlessly. She became the dance instructor of the Matt crowd which favored new American dances like the Lindy Hop, the Shag and the Big Apple, steps the Nazis said were degenerate ‘nigger’ dances. Because of its eight-beat rhythm the Shag was the most difficult of the new dances to learn. When dancing was the event of the evening Christa was always the center of attention.

"All right then—show us again, Christa, how it goes!" they would say. Christa, being the center of attention, is what first brought her to Matt’s attention. He saw how much fun she was having, saw how much fun the others were having learning from her, saw how everyone laughed when she started doing the Shag step. He laughed at himself when he got his feet mixed up when Christa tried to show him the complicated steps. Unbeknownst to Christa, Matt decided she would be his girl.

So Christa was stunned when Matt sat beside her at a big country bonfire on the banks of the Isar River where a couple of dozen students had gathered. Everyone had been doing the Shag, a beach dance, and Christa was as usual in the center of it all. Matt was trying as best he could to do the step but he was watching Christa to see where she would sit when she got tired. Christa, surprised, hardly knew what to say when Matt took the seat beside her. But saying anything wasn’t necessary as Matt carried on his easy banter with everyone around him. Exactly the thing about him that made him so admired and loved. And here he was sitting beside her!

"Christa! Wie geht’s?

Not so bad, thanks, Christa found herself answering.

Christa thought it was an accident—Matt singling her out. It won’t happen again she said to herself. But it did. Soon Matt started asking if Christa would be wherever he intended to party on a given evening. "What about Jürgen’s graduation party…will you be there? Café Schwabing tonight? Underground Jazz Saturday (the Nazis hated jazz)? Christa, already bowled over by her first sight of Matt in front of the university—or uni as it was generally known—held her breath for fear that Matt’s favor would pass on to some other girl. But it didn’t. By the time the spring break was over, it had become clear to others that Christa was Matt’s girl. Blissful in her youthful way, Christa never for a moment thought that her good fortune could turn out to have a dark side.

What had attracted Matt to her? Christa didn’t know. She thought it might be her hair which she wore neatly coifed so that it fell beside her face and a little bit down her neck. The Nazi style, tight braids wrapped around put-up hair, did not appeal to Christa. By the time Christa was in her late teens her teachers were suggesting that she change from what they said was an American hairstyle to something more in vogue in Germany. How so? Christa thought and she disregarded them, revealing a stubborn streak. Besides, she liked the way she looked with her mid-length hair style.

In 1938 Christa and Matt were having the time of their lives. The German economy purred, or so it seemed to the great majority of the people. There were no obvious clouds on the horizon. Christa and Matt continued to party with their university friends. In time, other girls knew better than to try to take Christa’s place next to Matt although one or the other still did. Being Matt’s girl drew attention to Christa. Others in their university crowd were friendly—well, a little more than friendly—with Christa. One for sure was Karl Stemper. Christa became aware of Karl’s fondness for her and realized that if Matt’s attention ever strayed to other girls, Karl would make his move.

Once, forty or so of Matt’s circle of friends took a rafting trip down the Isar River during a summer break. It was always a thrilling ride when the raft went over the rapids. Twenty kilometers down river they all jumped off the raft and headed to an outdoor beer garden for lunch. Seated at a long wooden table, Matt was on one side with Christa next to him and Karl, on the other side of the bench, faced them. Somehow the conversation turned from light-hearted banter to the jüdische Frage, the Jewish question. Karl was the instigator. The Jews are a menace to the Aryan race; they must be eliminated.

For the past five years the situation of German Jews had deteriorated from social ostracism to deprivation of everything they owned—homes, cars, radios, bank accounts. Everything. Matt and Christa had never joined in taunting Jews or benefiting from property taken from them. They had had two Jewish university friends in their circle, Joseph and Bernard, whom the Nazis had forced out of school.

What do you mean—eliminated? Christa asked.

I mean they must be driven out of Germany no matter what the consequences for them might be.

I don’t see how that’s possible, Matt said. Many of them do not have enough cash to settle in other countries.

"True, but then that’s their problem not ours," Karl said menacingly.

Come on, Karl, unwind a little bit. You sound like a Nazi.

I am a Nazi. I joined the party three months ago.

Even so, Matt said. We don’t need to hear Brown Shirt crap when we’re having fun.

Karl hated to be put down by Matt. All the more so because Christa was there and she obviously was of the same mind as Matt. The incident stuck in Karl’s mind. From time to time he brooded over it.

The conversation cast a pall over the previously happy students. Somewhat quiet for once, they boarded busses to return to Munich. Later, when Matt and Christa were alone, they discussed the Jewish Question again. Matt said, Haven’t they been living in Germany for centuries? Why are they now all of a sudden problematical? Christa agreed but she said, "Ich denke auch but I think it would be best for them to leave Germany if they can. After the Nazis have taken everything from them, they become a problem of necessity."

In his frequent public addresses Hitler spoke about the German race, over and over again. Neither Matt nor Christa believed that marriage between Jews and other Germans was ruinous for the German people.

What do you think? Matt asked Christa. "Are we really much different than the French or the Italians or, for that matter, the Americans?

I don’t know Christa responded, but maybe Negroes are a different race.

Yeah, I forgot about them.

I really feel bad about Joseph and Bernard. I just don’t see why they had to be pushed out.

They seemed just like us—I mean like the rest of us.

"Know what they’re doing now? Christa asked.

No idea, Karl replied shrugging his shoulders.

The knot tying Matt and Christ together tightened; their relationship deepened. They began to spend some of their leisure time alone, away from the crowd. Starnberg Lake south of Munich was a favorite haunt. They could reach it on their bikes or take the local train after picking up Leberkäse sandwiches, another of their favorites and a Munich standard made from several meats and onions. Meadows surrounded the