The German Wife(96)

“I know the papers say the war is going well, but we are struggling against the Soviets,” Jürgen admitted. I’d heard whispers of the same in Berlin. “The way my program has made such rapid progress has been through constant experimentation—that’s an incredibly expensive approach. We used to have an unlimited budget. Then we had a generous budget... Now we’ve had a series of budget cuts. Otto has become worried that the program might shut down if we don’t deliver something war-ready soon.”

“But...if a rocket reached space—” I said, trying to cheer him up, but he shook his head.

“That’s only part of the picture, my love. We fired several rockets over these past few weeks. Most failed. One succeeded. We don’t actually know how to produce these things reliably yet—let alone to mass-produce them, and on a shoestring budget.”

“What are you going to do?” I whispered.

“I fantasize about finding ways to undermine our progress, but I am surrounded by brilliant men. If I attempt sabotage, it will quickly become obvious to them.” His gaze drifted over my shoulder again, to land on the children. “I’m trapped on this path where my work is building to something heinous.”

Otto and Helene threw a party that Christmas at their lavish home in Dresden. He had climbed the ranks of the Nazi party and been invited to join the SS—awarded the prestigious role of Hauptsturmführer.

When we arrived at the party, Otto greeted us in his full SS uniform—the high leather boots, gray jacket and pants, patches on his collar and shoulders that bore his rank. Helene was pregnant yet again. I’d met her a number of times over the years, and every single time I’d seen her, she’d either been pregnant or holding a newborn. That night, she looked exhausted. Her eyes kept drifting to the ceiling, as if she’d rather be upstairs in bed, or anywhere but that bustling holiday party.

“Congratulations,” I said politely, motioning toward her stomach.

“Number eight,” she said, and although this was clearly intended as a boast, her exhausted tone, coupled with the way she sighed as she said it, suggested eight was perhaps a few more children than she’d have preferred.

“Still only the three children?” Otto asked me pointedly. At Lydia’s suggestion, I’d left Georg, Laura, and Gisela back in Berlin with her children and staff of nannies. “No chance of Mother’s Cross for you, then. That must be very disappointing for you both.” The Mother’s Cross was a medal given to encourage fecundity. The gold rank was the most prestigious, reserved for women with more than seven children. Both Helene and Lydia were awarded theirs the previous August. Otto’s gaze slid to Jürgen. “Perhaps we are keeping you away from your bride too much?”

My cheeks heated, and I glanced anxiously at Jürgen, but was surprised to find him nonchalant.

“We have been trying to ensure we have more time together. Given I can’t spare the time to come home much, we have purchased a country house at Tollensesee. The work is important, but obviously, so is Sofie’s duty to the Reich.”

Otto nodded, pleased with this response. I, on the other hand, was startled by it. Jürgen had said everything he should have said in response to this challenge, but there was a superiority to his tone, not toward Otto—toward me. Women in the Reich were expected to be submissive to their husbands, but my marriage had never operated that way. I forced myself to smile politely.

“Are you prepared for our trip in the New Year?” Otto asked Jürgen. He motioned toward the bar, and Jürgen shot me a quietly apologetic glance, then fell into step beside Otto as he made a beeline for the bar on the other side of the room, staffed by men in crisp uniforms.

“If I can manage to give my husband eight children with all of the travel we do now, you can surely manage at least a few more,” Helene remarked.

“You travel with Otto?” I asked, surprised. She pursed her lips.

“If you want to climb the ranks of the Party, Sofie, you need to find a way to support the work. I won’t be joining him and Jürgen for this trip in the New Year because the baby will come soon, but I’ve been with him to the camps plenty of times before.”

“To the camps?” I repeated, startled. She gave me a confused look.

“We need many more prisoners for the factory.” I was so bewildered, I was struggling to keep my expression neutral. “While Otto and Jürgen find new workers, I’ve been inspecting each facility. There’s groundbreaking research happening at Auschwitz, Dachau has a delightful herb garden—oh, and of course, there’s the zoological gardens at Buchenwald. You should come along for a trip. It’s so important for wives to support their husbands in this work.”

“I’ll talk to Jürgen about it,” I managed.

Later that night when we were alone in our hotel room, I motioned toward the covers as Jürgen went to turn out the lights, indicating we should pull them over our heads and whisper, but he yawned and shook his head. I shot him a forceful look and he sighed and complied.

“You’ve been to some of the camps?”

“I’m tired. I don’t want to talk about this,” he said.

“Helene said she goes with you.”

“She’s tagged along with Otto a few times.”

“She said—”