Free On Desperate Ground by James Benn Page B

late night meeting at Prinz Albrecht Strasse .” At the mere mention of the combined SS and Gestapo headquarters, he puffed out his chest, looking around for the effect it had on his listeners.  
    “ Sturmbannführer Hettstedt is in the Reich Security Main Office,” Doktor Kappelen interjected. “ Amt IV, I believe you said?” Amt IV was the SS department grotesquely titled Investigation and Fighting of Enemies. Doktor Kappelen already knew that Hettstedt worked out of Amt IV, Section B1. Section B1 investigated “Political Catholicism”, and Hettstedt was responsible for activities in the General-Government area of occupied Poland.  
    “Yes, and I am sure you must not be enemies of the state, otherwise I would not be walking out of your hospital!”  
    Hettstedt laughed at his own joke, the others joining in dutifully. Having center stage with his small audience, Hettstedt gave his version of a morale-boosting speech, keeping his eyes fixed on Elsa.
    “You are doing heroic work here. Healing our comrades from the front and allowing them to once again defend the Reich is a holy duty, a duty for which St. Ludwig’s is ideally suited.”
    Elsa half listened as Hettstedt droned on. She thought how much his soft, fat body contrasted with the rail-thin, sunken-cheeked men who came to the hospital from the front. She wondered if one day soon they would walk out of the hospital and directly into the trenches as the front lines moved closer to Berlin. Looking at Sister Anneliese, Elsa saw her hanging onto every word with rapt admiration.  
    “And so, I must not detain you any longer. You have done well to return me to my work so quickly. The Reich thanks you. Heil Hitler!”
    This time Hettstedt gave the full-armed salute, not to be shown up again by Sister Anneliese’s enthusiastic response. The group gave the required salute and Hettstedt withdrew his arm a moment before the others and grabbed Elsa’s outstretched hand, kissing it in what he undoubtedly saw as a romantic flourish.
    “Until we meet again, Fräulein Klein. Sister, Herr Doktor .”
      The Sturmbannführer turned on his heel and left the room, full of self-importance, certain he had inspired the medical staff. He mentally made a note to return again, perhaps in his official capacity. It would be good to demonstrate to his superiors that Catholic organizations under his jurisdiction were actively contributing to the war effort. That nun certainly was a fine example of how a religious person should act. She saluted like a stormtrooper. And the Fräulein , he would like to see her again, in a more private setting. Despite the pain in his shoulder, Hettstedt left the hospital humming as he considered the benefits of an office with the Prinz Albrecht Strasse address. It made the young ladies tremble, which is exactly how Otto Hettstedt liked them.
    As Hettstedt cleared the door, Elsa muttered a quick excuse and ran to the women’s washroom. Once inside, she leaned back against the door, her hands shaking, and tried to calm herself. She felt her skin flush, then retched violently into the sink. Splashing her face with cold water, she waited for her breathing to calm before she rejoined the others.
    “By the Holy Father, Sister, you laid it on thick with that one,” Doktor Kappelen said in a low voice, half in admiration and half in disbelief. “I could not wait to get rid of him, especially after our new guests arrived last night.”
    The doctor quickly glanced around the room to be sure no one else was listening, a reflex action by now. Saint Ludwig’s harbored a dangerous secret, one that in these trying days would earn all concerned a bullet in the back of the head. Saint Ludwig’s Hospital of Berlin treated Jews. Hidden Jews. Throughout the city, by ones, twos and in small groups, sympathetic friends, opponents of the regime, and religious conspirators hid Jews. No one knew exactly how many, but there was always a need for medical treatment. With