Memories XII

The janitor dropped his broom and called out loudly as he saw the content of the leaflets drifting down on him. Before I could blink, he’d run out of the auditorium, waving his arms and shouting loudly for the Gestapo. My eyes swam with tears as I sank to the floor. I had failed them. The janitor had seen, and even now I could hear the thunderous pounding of boots as a crowd of angry Gestapo came running through the auditorium, the janitor in front, brandishing his broom. I closed my eyes in misery as they ran by. They didn’t even stop to look at me. I was safe. But I knew that Sophie and Hans were not. The janitor had seen them clearly. I rested my head on my knees, letting out a soft wail. The White Rose Society had come to an end.

The Scholl’s Trial: February 22, 1943

I was pacing up and down outside of the court room. The Scholl family was due any minute. They wouldn’t miss this for the world. Four grueling days had passed since Sophie and Hans had dropped their leaflets in the halls of Munich.  Since then all hell had broken loose. Hans and Sophie were dragged out of Munich, and the Gestapo soon found enough evidence to convict everyone in the society through the testimony of Gisela Schertling, Hans’ pro Nazi girlfriend. (Ruth Hanna Sachs) My mind returned to the day when they had taken Sophie and Hans away. The pain that had followed. Willi had been taken away the same day. Hans held incriminating evidence on his person that not only implicated Willi, but Christoph and Alex too. I had been with him when they came. We were in his small apartment sipping cups of warm tea, our eyes red and puffy, but dry. We were all cried out. Then there was the awful pounding at the door. It resonated through my body and seemed to say “We will take everyone you love, we will take everyone you love…” Neither of us had made a move to open the door, choosing instead to memorize each other’s face, and remember the sweet, happy days we’d shared. Not the bad, and certainly not what was about to come. Willi had known it would happen. Someone shouted ‘Open up – The Gestapo are here. We’ve got a warrant for Willi Graf’s arrest. Open up, I say!’ They had to break down the door to get to us. I held his hand one last time and kissed him goodbye. They grabbed him then, and dragged him out of the room. After that, my mind had reached a point where it couldn’t register any more pain – it became numb. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t speak. It was as if I was trying to protect myself from the pain of reality. Sophie’s trial had brought me back to life. If there was any chance, however slim, of me seeing her one last time, I would jump at it.  Which is why, when the Scholl family burst through the doors, their faces a mess of emotion, I was already waiting, separated from my best friend by a thick wooden door and a Gestapo soldier. Robert Scholl would have none of the Gestapo’s ‘closed trial’ nonsense. Disregarding the soldier who was desperately trying to ward him off, he burst into the courtroom the rest of us following in a stream. I looked up to the pedestal where I knew Sophie would be standing. And there she was. A wave of déjà vu hit me, reminding me of the first time I’d seen her so many years ago, perched, bird like, on the front steps of her building. Tears filled my eyes as the pain hit me afresh. Her eyes met mine, and we stood, locking eyes. A brief smile warmed her face as she saw her family, and then went back to it's stone-like mask. Robert Scholl ran to the front of the courtroom, yelling

"Her father, I'm their father - and a lawyer! I'm defending them now, it's my right!" I looked up at the judge, hoping that the emotional strain thick in the air and in the voice of a father who desperately loved his children would sway him to a more lenient decision. The judge merely narrowed his eyes, a nasty grin on his flabby face, and shook his head once. It was over, the verdict given. From the bits and pieces I had heard of the trial, I gathered that Sophie and Hans were to be executed the same day. My eyes filled with tears as they led Sophie and Hans away. Wrenching away from her captors, Sophie turned, and shouted to her family

“I love you! Don’t forget me!” And then, locking eyes with me, she smiled, and said

“The sun still shines.” And then they led her away. Those words brought me back to the day she’d asked me for a summary of my book, The White Rose, and I’d told her all the characters died. Trying to cheer her up, I’d told her that it was only a book; you could shut it when you chose to and pretend they lived happily ever after. Just a book. The sun still shines. But this was not a book; I couldn’t stop the terrible events and re-invent them in my head so that everything came out cookie cutter perfect. And so Sophie would die. But she would not be forgotten, I vowed to myself as I was escorted out of the court room. I would make sure Germany never forgot the brave, sweet girl who gave her life for a cause that she believed in. The sun still shines.