Fatherland

that the Germans were satisfied and enjoying good living conditions.
    The ambassador then touched upon the Jewish question and stated that it was naturally of great importance to German-American relations. In this connection it was not so much the fact that we wanted to get rid of the Jews that was harmful to us, but rather the loud clamor with which we accompanied this purpose. He himself understood our Jewish policy completely; he was from Boston, and there, in one golf club and in other clubs, no Jews had been admitted for the past fifty years.
    Received Berlin, October 18, 1938

    Today, too, as during former conversations, Kennedy mentioned that very strong anti-Semitic tendencies existed in the United States and that a large portion of the population had an understanding of the German attitude toward the Jews. From his whole personality, I believe he would get on very well with the Führer.
    "We can't do this alone."
    "We must."
    "Please. Let me take them to the embassy. They could smuggle them out through the diplomatic bag."
    "No!"
    "You can't be certain he betrayed us—"
    "Who else could it be? And look at this. Do you really think American diplomats would want to touch it?"
    "But if we're caught with it... it's a death warrant!"
    "I have a plan."
    "A good one?"
    "It had better be."
    Central Construction Office, Auschwitz, to German Equipment Works, Auschwitz, March 31, 1943
    Re your letter of March 24, 1943
    [Excerpt]
    In reply to your letter, the three airtight towers are to be built in accordance with the order of January 18, 1943, for Bw 30B and 3C, in the same dimensions and in the same manner as the towers already delivered.
    We take this occasion to refer to another order of March 6, 1943, for the delivery of a gas door 100/192 for corpse cellar I of crematory III, Bw 30A, which is to be built in the manner and according to the same measure as the cellar door of the opposite crematory II, with peephole of double 8-millimeter glass encased in rubber. This order is to be viewed as especially urgent. . .
    Not far from the hotel, north of Unter den Linden, was an all-night pharmacy. It was owned, as all businesses were, by Germans, but it was run by Romanians—the only people poor enough and willing enough to work such hours. It was stocked like a bazaar, with cooking pans, paraffin heaters, stockings, baby food, greeting cards, stationery, toys, film... Among Berlin's swollen population of guest workers it did a brisk trade.
    They entered separately. At one counter Charlie spoke to the elderly woman assistant, who promptly disappeared into a back room and returned with an assortment of bottles. At another March bought a school exercise book, two sheets of thick brown paper, two sheets of gift wrap paper and a roll of clear tape.
    They left and walked two blocks to the Friedrich-Strasse station, where they caught the southbound U-bahn train. The carriage was packed with the usual Saturday night crowd—lovers holding hands, families off to the illuminations, young men on a drinking spree—and nobody, as far as March could tell, paid them the slightest attention. Nevertheless, he waited until the doors were about to slide shut before he dragged her out onto the platform of the Tempelhof station. A ten-minute journey on a number thirty-five tram brought them to the airport. Throughout all this they sat in silence.
    Krakau
    7/18/43
    [Handwritten]
    My dear Kritzinger,
    Here is the list.
    Auschwitz       50.02N     19.11E
    Kulmhof            53.20N     18.25E
    Blezec                50.12N     23.28E
    Treblinka          52.48N     22.20E
    Majdanek        51.18N     22.31E
    Sobibor             51.33N     23.31E
    Heil Hitler!
    [Signed] Buhler [?]
    Tempelhof was older than the Flughafen Hermann Göring—shabbier, more primitive. The departure terminal had been built before the war and was decorated with pictures of the pioneering days of passenger flight—old Lufthansa Junkers with corrugated fuselages, dashing pilots with goggles and scarves, intrepid women travelers with stout ankles and cloche hats. Innocent days! March took up a position by the entrance to the terminal and pretended to study the photographs as Charlie approached the car rental desk.
    Suddenly she was smiling, making apologetic gestures with her hands—playing to perfection the lady in distress. She had missed the flight, her family was waiting... The rental agent was