Secrets, Lies, Spies and Those Who Were Left Behind

By Brigitte Macko

When Ms. Macko watched the news about thousands of illegal immigrants entering the US from Mexico, she suddenly remembered something she had not thought about in over seventy years. After World War II, millions of people just walked into the country. Many were from Russia, Serbia, Croatia, Poland, Hungary, Czechoslovakia, and dozens of small countries that made up the East Bloc. The German government faced a huge "housing shortage." And what was the "resolution?" Every German citizen had to report how many unused or vacant bedrooms they had. My playroom was assigned to an elderly lady from Hungary, my bedroom to an eighteen year old boy from Poland. The lady stayed until she died. She never made an effort to move out. She said, "I like it here." I was fourteen before I got to my bedroom back, my playroom¬¬--never. How would all these people who live here, the ones that oppose President Trump and the border wall, if they had to give up their bedrooms, vacant vacation homes, etc.? How many vacant bedrooms does Nancy Pelosi have? Let her put her bedrooms and money where her mouth is. She also discovered at the age of three how her family did their "grocery shopping" in the "black market." As a teenager, she also discovered some hidden "secrets."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Oct 28, 2020
• ISBN: 9781098036287

Book preview

Best-Kept Secrets

Since the word holocaust came up several times, I also remember several things. No one talked about Hitler and his evildoings. It was the best-kept secret for over twenty years. There was absolutely nothing mentioned—not in history books in schools, nothing. All I remember was one day my history teacher was saying, In September 1939, Hitler mobilized the army. Next time, we’ll start on current affairs. That was it. Twenty years later, I found out that this was also a very significant day in my family’s life.

One of my father’s sisters, Rosa, and her five-year-old son, Bobby, came to visit from Philly in August 1939. When she realized that things could get too hairy for her and her little boy, she hightailed it to Bremerhaven and booked two spots on a cruise ship back to New York City. By the time she was situated, the captain received a radio message. No ships are allowed to leave the harbor. Hitler declared war. This brave man defied Hitler’s orders. In the middle of the night, lights out, as quickly as he could, he snuck that ship out of the harbor. That alone was a miracle. Everyone held their breath. Would Hitler send U-boats after them, torpedo the ship, and sink everyone? Would they force the captain to turn around and shoot everyone? Nothing happened. They were in the middle of the ocean—international waters.

After three weeks, they finally reached the outskirts of New York City. The captain asked permission to enter and dock in the harbor. The answer was, No. You are the enemy. Turn around. You are in American territory. Go back to where you came from. That was impossible. There wasn’t enough food or water for thousands of people for another three weeks. What would await them even if they did survive and make it? So this brave man did the only thing he could: he sent out an SOS. The ship was sinking, and sink it did. He instructed his crew to drill holes at the bottom. The international law allowed the Americans to rescue people on a sinking ship, regardless of nationality. Everyone on the ship was rescued, except for the captain. There was also a law that a captain had to go down with the ship. Thousands of grateful people watched him go under. How sad. I hope this law is changed by now.

I only met my Aunt Rosa once in her summer home in Atlantic City, by the ocean. Since she was still a German citizen, she was placed in a camp for a few years. But she was alive and well. So was her son.

Now the other sad thing was that my aunt had asked her youngest brother, Carl, and his wife—my mother and father—to go with her. She said you can always come back to Germany after the war is over. He wanted to go, but my mother said, No, I am not leaving the fatherland. It was something she regretted until the day she died. Unfortunately, my mother had been only seventeen when she was drafted into Hitler Youth and got brainwashed. At that time, she still believed that Germany was the greatest country in the world. There was a song she had to sing: Deutschland Über Alles. That is all I remember. It was banned. All uniforms, flags, and armbands with swastikas on them had to be turned in and burned. Mommy dearest kept some clothing, armbands, and a coloring book with a U-Boat. That was my first coloring book that I remember. It was memorable because I was locked in an attic storage room. She told me never to tell anyone about it. If someone visited her, I had to be quiet so no one would know someone was in there. It had swastikas on it, the men, and the boat. At the ages of three to five, that didn’t mean anything to me. I had no idea why. Once I could read, it was taken away.

My father was drafted into the German army as an infantry soldier in 1939. In 1943, he was hit by a hand grenade in the foot in Russia. After he was released from a field hospital, he was allowed four weeks of R & R. I was conceived during those four weeks. When she was five months pregnant with me, all her letters were returned because he was MIA (missing in action) near Minx, Russia. She never heard from him or saw him again. The Red Cross, private investigators, etc. never did find a single man from his battalion. Five hundred men had vanished. Rumors had it that the Russians offered deals. You marry a woman from Siberia, and we give you land to start a farm. Siberia was sparsely populated, but they could never let anyone know that they were still alive. I always hoped deep down in my heart that that was what happened to my father. I only mentioned it once to my mother. She beat me half to death and said, How can you say that? She couldn’t bear the thought of my father having another family somewhere. Well, I would rather have him alive in Russia than dead in Russia. I always wondered if I had half-siblings somewhere.

Russian Holocaust Survivors

Several years ago, I had signed up with a ministry called International Fellowship of Christians and Jews that flew Russian holocaust survivors to Jerusalem. The living conditions for these elderly people were atrocious to say the best. It tugged on my heartstrings. I always had a soft spot for the Jewish Russian people.

It started when I was four years old. Two of my father’s sisters lived in Philadelphia. My Tante Frieda and her husband owned a bakery. She had met an elderly Jewish couple who were rescued from a concentration camp by American troops and relocated to Philadelphia. They were homesick and wanted to return to Russia. They made it as far as Germany to my hometown.

My Aunt Frieda wrote to my mother to please go visit them. They were in their nineties, displaced again, far from home, strange language, etc. We couldn’t communicate. My mother spoke English and French but not Russian. The couple didn’t speak German, English, or French, only Russian. Dictionaries were not available at that time. My aunt sent them little treats from the US such as chocolates, candies, and Hershey’s milk chocolate powder. They were put in a nursing home. My mother took me with her on visits. That was an interesting experience for me at that time—everyone talking but no one understanding a word of what was being said, hand gestures, etc. Hugs, kisses,