Helga's Story: A Child of NAZI Germany

By Peter Woodruff

Living history through the eyes of a young German girl. Based on a true story.

Like many little girls, Helga Reiter dreams of horses. More than anything, the six-year-old wants to learn to ride and become a great equestrian. But, in 1941, the world is at war...

Having overrun much Europe and North Africa, Germany's glorious military has no spare horses for frivolous childhood dreams. Stubborn as any good German shoulder, Helga, contrives several ill-fated attempts to ride. By late 1944, Helga has no choice but to forgo her dream and face a terrible reality. Her country is losing the war. As Germany is crushed between the Soviet and Allied advance, the Reiter family struggles to survive one day at a time.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Writers Exchange E-Publishing
• Release date: Mar 21, 2023
• ISBN: 9781921636516

Book preview

Author's Note

This story takes place during World War II, arguably the most epic and influential episode of human history. The great battles and crucial events incorporated in its telling are factual, based on extensive research. The historical notes at the end provide further information on pivotal events of the war.

Helga, a neighbor and close family friend, lived in Germany during the rise of the Third Reich and devastating war that followed. Helga's Story is based on her childhood recollections of this momentous time.

Helga's Story is a work of fiction. Helga, however, is a very real person who lived through a very real war. The novel, therefore, is about a real person and her real-life experiences.

Chapter 1

Bad Harzburg, Germany, 1945

Helga looked in the mirror hanging above her desk. She hardly recognized the face staring back at her. Those gaunt, sallow cheeks, the pale, almost white complexion, the limp blond hair barely controlled by two unraveling braids. Even worse were the eyes, those once sparkling blue eyes, now sunken and red.

What happened to the once bright, pretty face, rosy cheeks and golden hair? When did those eyes, once so full of life and joy, come to reflect exhaustion and despair? And what happened to the dreams, hopes and aspirations this little German girl once had? How did they disappear in only a few short months?

A loud rumble, like approaching thunder, gave the answer. Ten-year-old Helga Reiter stepped away from her mirror and looked out the window. Another rumble from the west, followed by the sound of small arms fire. It was coming, the enemy, the faceless terror, an entity bred for one purpose, the total destruction of her beloved Germany.

Helga, come downstairs now! And bring Anna with you.

Normally when Mother gave an order Helga rushed to comply. Disobedience often brought painful consequences. But times were not normal. Helga was far too exhausted to worry about a possible session behind the woodshed. She left the window and sat on the bed she shared with Anna. She sighed, wondering if she had the strength for so simple a task as waking her eight-year-old sister.

Anna, wake up. Anna didn't stir. The thunder of enemy artillery got closer. Come on, Anna, before Mother gets angry. Helga gave Anna's shoulder a gentle shake. The small girl finally stretched and opened bleary eyes.

What is it? Leave me alone.

The artillery sounded yet closer. A machine gun chattered in the forest. Helga, Anna, what are you two doing? Mother called up the stairs.

Mother wants everyone in the basement, Helga said.

But I'm so tired. Anna sat up and blinked. I don't want to go down into the basement, I just want to sleep.

The artillery was now loud enough to rattle the windows. Another machine gun burst chattered in the woods, closer this time. Can't you hear that, Anna? The Americans are almost here. If they find you alone they might--well, they might hurt you or shoot you. You heard what Poppa said about them.

I don't care.

Mark, the girls' twelve-year-old brother, appeared at the door. You two better get moving. Mother's getting really impatient.

Mark, Mother called from downstairs, where's the water you're supposed to get? Must I do everything myself? If you children don't start minding me the Americans will be the least of your problems.

See, I told you. Mark rushed off to fill bottles with water.

Helga took Anna by the arm and helped her stand. Anna leaned on her older sister. I'm dizzy, Helga. And I'm so hungry. When will we ever eat again?

I don't know, maybe after the Americans go away. If they go away. Here, I'll help you to the basement.

Anna started to cry. I'm sorry. I know this isn't the way a German girl is supposed to act. I can't help it. I feel so weak.

Helga continued to support Anna as they shuffled out of their room. Helga wished she had someone to support her. She didn't feel any better than her little sister. They met their mother by the door leading down into the basement.

It is about time! Helga, where are the blankets I told you to get? Anna, stop that crying. We have no time for such behavior.

Mother, she's sick. She can't help it. Let me get her downstairs and I'll come back for the blankets.

The boom of artillery shook the whole house.

Never mind, Mother said. I'll just have to get them myself. I wish you two could be more dependable.

Exhausted and hungry, Helga did the unspeakable; she talked back to her mother. If we hadn't spent most the week loading wagons with stuff from the spa maybe we'd be more dependable. We're tired, Mother. We've never been so tired and hungry. How much more do you think we can take?

Mother's face turned crimson with anger. Still holding on to her sister's arm, Helga blanched as if expecting a blow.

It never came. Mother's face softened. I know, I've demanded a lot from all of you. The house shook again from the thunder of the advancing artillery. Anna cried out. But there's no choice. We are Germans. Germans have to be strong, no matter what happens now. Germany is dying, but I will not let my family die with her. So please, Helga, you must stay strong for me. We have to hold on a little longer. It is our only chance of surviving this storm. Now help Anna down the steps then come back up and help me. Once we're all down there maybe we can eat something.

Helga did as ordered, this time without argument. She had always been in awe of her mother, a woman of endless strength and courage. All her short life she'd wished, hoped, someday to be just like her.

A deafening blast shook the whole world. The Americans were close. How had it come to this? Mother and Helga, arms laden with quilts and blankets, descended the steps into the dark basement. Mark followed carrying the last two water bottles. The rest of the children and two nannies were huddled together in a corner, shivering with fear.

Another loud blast. Somewhere upstairs a window shattered. The Americans were here. The end of Germany was at hand. Only one question remained, could the Reiter family survive Germany's death throes?

Chapter 2

1935

Poppa Reiter sat at the table in his son's kitchen. He had come to see his new granddaughter, his son's second child.

The old man sipped his tea. His daughter-in-law gently placed tiny Helga in his arms. I think she has my eyes.

You said the same thing about Mark after he was born, Frau Reiter said.

And I was right.

Well you can't be right about both of them. Helga's eyes are lighter than Mark's. They're more like mine. Mark's are more like his father's.

There you have it, Poppa said. If Mark's father has my eyes, why shouldn't Mark?

He does have your eyes. But you just said Helga--oh never mind. More tea?

Poppa Reiter nodded as he slowly rocked his infant granddaughter. What a time to be born. A new child of a new Germany! I'd give anything to be young again.

Two-year old Mark beamed at his grandfather from his elevated seat at the table. Poppa! the little boy shouted. Several months ago Mark pointed to his grandfather and said Poppa. The name stuck, and for the rest of his life Grandfather Reiter was known as Poppa.

Herr Reiter, Mark and Helga's father, shifted in his chair and glanced out the window. Father, we agreed. No politics, especially at mealtimes.

Maybe you agreed, but I don't see why I should hold my tongue. If I can't speak out for Germany, who can? I'm a veteran from the great war. I fought for the fatherland, saw many of my comrades maimed and killed in her defense. And for what? To see Germany betrayed by the untermenschen. We could have won that war, would have won it, but our government, influenced by communists and Jews, sold us out. But now we have a new government. Things will soon be different for Germany, you mark my word.

Poppa was right. Momentous changes had come for the people of Germany, though not everyone considered the new arrangements a good thing. An obscure Austrian with remarkable oratorical skills had taken over the German government. The Fuehrer and his National Socialist party now had absolute control over Germany and its people. 

Such unimportant matters didn't concern newborn Helga. At this point in her life, she only cared about food and sleep. Helga's parents, on the other hand, may have cared about the change. In fact, they probably did. But like most Germans they kept their concerns about this new NAZI government to themselves.

But Helga's grandfather approved openly. He considered the signing of the Treaty of Versailles in 1918, which ended hostilities with France, England and America, the ultimate betrayal of the German people by its own government. This new, stronger government, he hoped, would rectify the injustice and humiliation the treaty brought to Germany.

Poppa frequently visited his son's home, usually dropping in at mealtime. As a rule he respected his son's wishes sufficiently to wait until his daughter-in-law cleared the table before discussing politics. But it was a rare evening when Poppa didn't expound his strong views, this evening being no exception.

Poppa smiled at his new granddaughter. Little Helga, you and your brother will grow up in a revived Germany, a great Germany. Your generation will see the Fatherland feared and admired by every nation of the world.

She doesn't understand you, Helga's father said. And I'll ask you again to refrain from talking politics. These are dangerous times, Father. It's best to keep our opinions to ourselves, even if you are a combat veteran.

The grandfather snorted then pointed to Helga's brother. Look, Mark understands me and he's only two. Indeed, Mark watched his grandfather, smiling and waving his arms as if in approval of the old man's words.

Poppa! Mark said, holding his arms toward his grandfather.

The grandfather handed Helga to her mother then took the young boy on his lap. Frau Reiter laid her sleepy daughter in her cradle.

You, my lad, and your pretty little sister, are blessed. You will live and grow in a Germany with a strong leader. One who shall restore her to former greatness.

Father...

Geemany! Mark shouted.

The grandfather chuckled. Geemany. Never again will we be trod upon, humiliated by the Untermenschen, these Jews and communists who sell their own souls for personal gain.

Commeenists! Mark burbled.

You hear that? Mark understands. He recognizes the enemies of Germany by name. Poppa looked again at his grandson's happy face. Communists, and Jews, boy. Jews are the enemy.

Jools? Poppa a jools?

No, boy. No Jew will ever enter this house, or any other house belonging to a true German.

No jools!

The grandfather laughed again. Smart boy. You will be a good German when you grow up. No, you will be a great German. I will teach you. Teach you to love the fatherland, to hate the untermenschen.

That is enough, Poppa Reiter, said Helga's mother. We are a Christian family. No one is taught to hate in this house. Besides, I see no reason to hate Jews. We have many here in Bad Harzburg. There is that nice Herr Bernstein who runs the cheese shop. He's polite and charges fair prices. His wife just had a little boy two months ago. He and Helga may be friends when they're older.

My German granddaughter, friends with a Jew-boy? This will not happen, not while I take breath.

It is not for you to say. And I should remind you, we have several regular Jewish customers at the spa. They've been coming since you and Mamma were in charge.

Had I known, I would put a stop to it.

Well you're not in charge anymore. If you want to keep Jews out of your beerhaus, that's your business. As for our spa, our regular Jewish customers are nice people. They pay their fees on time, more than can be said for some others. How are they any different? It is not your place to judge.

It's time to change the subject, said Helga's father. He glanced at the kitchen window. One never knew who might be listening, ready to report any behavior or thought considered harmful to the NAZI party. He had a business to run, a very successful business, and couldn't afford to get in trouble over pointless arguments.

Very well, the grandfather said. But mark my words, before the end of this year Jews like your nice Herr Bernstein may find Germany a difficult place to live.¹

Until that time, Helga's mother said, I will continue to buy cheese from Herr Bernstein and allow our Jewish customers access to the spa. And I'll thank you not tell me how to run my business or home.

We will follow the laws of our Fuehrer, whatever they may be, said her husband. He looked again toward the kitchen window. "And now, Poppa, if I can divert your attention from the fatherland for a time, I need advice on more mundane matters concerning the spa."

For the rest of the evening, Helga's parents and grandfather discussed the running of the family business, the famous spa of Bad Harzburg. Poppa chose not to mention the spa's Jewish customers again.

Before leaving for his home, 'Poppa' leaned over the hand carved cradle and whispered to the now sleeping Helga. No, my little Fraulein. No 'Jools'. Not in our new Germany. Not in Hitler's Germany. I wish I had your years to see this happen, this and the other wonderful things the Fuehrer will bring to his people.

Helga slept peacefully. Fuehrers, Jews, Communists; what were these to an infant? Her slumber was undisturbed by Germany's recent upheaval. She had no way of knowing the catastrophic impact Poppa's new Germany would have on her, the Reiter family and the world.

Chapter 3

Founded in 1045, the town of Harzburg is located in the beautiful Harz Mountains of lower Saxony. It actually started as a castle, built by Heinrich IV to protect the emperor's palace in Goslar from the rebelling Saxons. The Saxons, however, got the better of Heinrich and destroyed the castle in 1068. Its ruins still stand north of town.

In 1569 brine springs were discovered, marking the beginning of Harzburg's economic prosperity. In 1889 the town was designated as Bad (spa town), thus the name Bad Harzburg. Today Bad Harzburg is a popular tourist attraction for Germans and foreigners alike, who come for the healing spa waters, the beautiful mountain scenery, the many recreational opportunities and the casino.

For three generations Helga's family owned and operated one of Germany's largest and most famous spas. Helga's mother and father took over from her grandparents in the 1930s. During this time, many famous guests visited the spa, including a number of foreign dignitaries. In 1933, the previously mentioned Austrian visited the Spa with several other members of the rapidly growing NAZI party. This Austrian, of course, was none other than Adolph Hitler, the newly appointed Chancellor of Germany. But most of the spa customers where ordinary Germans seeking healing and relief from pain.

1941

Helga's obsession began on a cheerful May morning, full of birdsong and new blooms. Who, walking through the beautiful hills of Lower Saxony, would guess that the whole of Europe was being torn apart by war? Helga had no thoughts of war. She walked down the country road with her nanny, who pushed a pram holding one of Helga's younger sisters. They were returning from an errand in town, about a mile and a half from home. Mark, now eight-years-old, marched ahead, charging heavily fortified sheep pastures with much noise and bravado.

Not too far ahead, Mark, the nanny said. And try not to make so much noise. You're going to frighten every sheep and cow in Saxony.

Mark stopped. The sheep are enemies of the fatherland.

The nanny sighed. At least he stopped long enough for the others to catch up. No, Mark, sheep are not our enemies. English, French, Canadians, Australians, those are our enemies, though I don't understand why they can't stay in their own countries and leave us alone.

Well, if any come here, I'll get them with my bayonet. Mark picked up a stick and jabbed at a couple of sheep. The sheep stepped back from the fence, but seemed otherwise unimpressed with the young warrior.

Nanny, look! Helga jumped up and down and pointed to the field across the road. Three beautiful mares, each followed by a tiny foal, strolled up to the fence to examine the strange group of two-legged creatures.

Yes, those are some of Herr Schmidt's brood mares. We had best keep moving. He doesn't want them disturbed.

Ignoring Nanny, Helga crossed to the horses. One of the mares stretched her nose across the wood fence. Helga let her sniff her hand. The mare allowed Helga to stroke her nose and face.

Helga...

Attention focused on the friendly, curious mares, Helga didn't pay the slightest heed to her nanny. One of the foals rested its nose on the top rail of the fence. When Helga tried to touch it, the foal jumped away and ran across the field, bucking and kicking. The Mare turned away and trotted after her youngster. The other mares resumed their grazing. Another of the foals started nursing.

Helga would have stood by the fence all day had Nanny not taken her firmly by the arm and dragged her back to the pram. Here, you help me push your sister. Your mother wants us home before the end of the week.

Helga finally did as told, although she continued to look back at the beautiful horses.

Thus, it began. That brief contact with Herr Schmidt's brood mares gave birth to her obsession. Helga, only six-years-old, saw her whole future set before her. Her young mind didn't quite see it that way, the defining moment condensed into a single word; horses.

flourish-12

They arrived home a half hour later. Many of their neighbors stood around the yard, talking and waving their arms. Everyone seemed excited about something.

A party! Helga thought. There hadn't been a party at her small home since the war started two years ago. Helga tried to run ahead, but Nanny held her back.

Something's wrong, Nanny said. Look at your mother, she's upset.

Voice loud and strained, Helga's mother spoke to Herr Stems, the neighborhood civil defense leader. Helga knew that expression on Mother's face. She saw it whenever she misbehaved, which was fairly often. Nanny was right, her mother was angry.

Herr Stems, Mother said, Don't you dare accuse me of disloyalty toward the fatherland. I do all I can for the war effort. I just want you to understand, not all these people will fit into our cellar. I have to think of my family first, you know.

You should think of all the Germans who are sacrificing their lives for you, Frau Reiter. Maybe then you will be willing to give more of yourself and your home to the great cause.

Oops! Not a good idea to sass Mother. Helga knew that look on Mother's face all too well. Herr Stems was in for some serious trouble. Her mother might ask Father to take him behind the woodshed. Both she and Mark had experience with that.

Helga moved away from Nanny and the growing group of people, most of whom enjoyed the confrontation. She skipped around to the back of the sheep barn before her mother's wrath turned in her direction. Mark had disappeared, probably with the same idea.

A gasoline engine coughed and chugged, loud enough to be heard over the crowd. Father drove up on his motorcycle. The ancient machine had a sidecar Helga loved to ride in, though she often had to share it with Mark and her four-year-old sister, Anna. Usually one could hear the cycle sputtering and groaning about a mile away. Today, however, loud arguments drowned the racket until father nearly reached the house.

The bike engine shut down with a loud bang, quieting the crowd a little. What is going on around here? Aunt Margaret calls me at the spa and says to hurry home because there's some sort of trouble. What is it? Is someone hurt?

Herr Stems, glad to break away from his losing battle with Helga's mother, approached the still smoking motorbike. There's trouble all over Germany, Herr Reiter. Don't you know we're at war?

I certainly do, Father said, Of course, you remind us at least five times a day. But I'm more concerned with the trouble here at my home. I'll ask again; what's going on?

Herr Stems insists we allow our cellar to be an air raid shelter, Mother replied.

An air raid shelter? I thought Bad Harzburg was a Red Cross town, since we're taking care of sick and wounded soldiers at the spa. I heard the enemy agreed not to bomb Red Cross towns.

The enemy is bombing all of Germany, curse them, Herr Stems said. The English are barbarians. They care not whether their bombs hit civilians, hospitals or schools. Only three nights ago a massive bombing raid on Hamburg killed many women and children. Do you think the English care if they hit a small place like Bad Harzburg?

I don't know why they'd even try, Helga's father said. There's nothing of military importance here. Besides, I thought the English were too busy fighting the Luftwaffe over their own lands.

It is not our place to question the heroic efforts of the Luftwaffe, or any other branch of the German military, Stems said. But I have orders, orders that are not to be questioned, which say I must find suitable air raid shelters to protect the people under my care. I have decided your cellar is suitable. It is the most centrally located in this section.

But everyone won't fit, Helga's mother said. There're nearly 3,000 people in Bad Harzburg. We couldn't pack more than twenty in the cellar.

All the same, Stems said, we shall use your cellar. If the English bomb our town, we will have to get as many people in as we can.

You listen to me, Herr Stems... Helga's mother looked ready to explode. Several bystanders stepped back.

We will do all we can to cooperate, Helga's father said, interrupting his wife.

Herr Stems then explained to Helga's father what he meant by 'section'. It turned out their cellar only needed to accommodate about thirty close neighbors, not the entire community of Bad Harzburg. Once Helga's mother realized this, she calmed down.

Noting her mother's mood change, Helga chose that moment to reveal her life's ambition. Mother?

Not now, Helga.

Mother!

Helga, I said not now. Helga's mother had her angry face again. But Helga could be stubborn too.

Mother, I want to tell you what we saw on the road, and what I'm going to do.

Mother's expression darkened. Normally this was Helga's cue to hide behind the barn. But like a good German soldier, she held her ground.

Mother, we saw horses. Three big and three little ones.

Poppa Reiter came striding into their yard. What in blazes is going on around here? Are we having a party? You could've invited me.

Mother, the horses were so pretty. And they were very friendly. I got to pet one.

Helga!

The little soldier beat a tactical retreat. Stepping back, Helga bumped into her Grandfather, who spoke with Herr Stems.

Easy there, little Fraulein. Where are you going in such a hurry?

Poppa, I, Mark, Anna and Nanny saw horses today. I got to pet one.

Did you go into the Schmidt pasture? Helga, those are his valuable brood mares. He uses them to breed racehorses. He won't like you bothering them.

Nanny gave up trying to sort through the confusing arguments and came to Helga's rescue. She didn't go into the pasture, Herr Reiter, she just went up to the fence. The horses took little notice of her.

All the same, Schmidt is very protective of his horses. He is rich man and quite capable of making trouble for us. It is best to stay away from his stock.

Of course, Herr Reiter. I shall keep Helga on the other side of the road from now on.

But Poppa...

Not now, Helga. I'm speaking with Herr Stems.

First Mother, then Poppa. Helga was running out of allies. She'd have to focus on her father. Helga adored her father. Handsome and tall as a giant, at least to a six-year-old, Father was her hero. And unlike fairy tale giants, and quite unlike Helga's mother, he almost never got excited or angry, even when his yard was full of uninvited neighbors. When Helga spoke, he always stopped and listened, no matter how busy.

Father, I saw some horses today.

The giant's face lit up with a special smile reserved for his oldest daughter. He lifted the little girl into his arms. Were they big horses?

They were very big, Father. But they were friendly. I got to pet one of them.

Did it talk to you?

Helga giggled. Father, horses don't talk!

Sure they do. The horses at the spa talk to me all the time.

Her eyes widened. They do?

Of course. They tell me to feed them or they'll kick the barn door down.

Oh, Father, you're just teasing.

No, really. Why, just this afternoon Fritz, the old gray, said 'Herr Reiter, if you don't give me more grain I'll tell Helga.' Helga laughed. Now, what's all this sudden interest in horses?

I'm trying to tell you, Father. I tried to tell Nanny, then Mother then Poppa, but they were too busy with the neighbors.

Tell them what?

I'm going to learn to ride a horse.

You are?

I'm going to be the best rider in Germany. When I grow up, I'm going to ride in horse shows and win races.

Her father chuckled. I don't think they let girls ride in races.

They'll let me, when they see how good I am.

I see. So how are you going to do this?

I'm going to take lessons, and I'm going to ride every day. You'll see, Father. You're going to be very proud of me.

Herr Reiter hugged his daughter. He wished he could indulge his daughter's newfound interest, at least until she focused on other things, as kids usually did. But this was not the time. Germany was at war, and even though she was winning, all resources and efforts had to be dedicated to the final victory. Horses, including those at the spa, were for serious work only. Hopefully the war wouldn't go too much longer. England, some said, was about finished. America had its troubles with Japan. Most believed they would remain neutral toward Germany. Germany and the Soviet Union had a non-aggression treaty. The glorious German army had already overrun most of Europe. Yes, things should change soon, possibly before the end of the year. Business at the Spa would increase, and perhaps Helga could have those riding lessons she desired. But not now, not until the end, when Germany held mastery over the world.

Chapter 4

Helga's six-year-old mind worked furiously on her all-encompassing problem. How did one go about becoming a great rider? The first thing was find a horse to ride. Up to now, she'd never so much as sat on a horse's back. Oh, she'd ridden in the carts and wagons used at the spa, but someone else always drove. It just wasn't the same as actually sitting on a moving horse.

So how does one find a horse? Her parents wouldn't let her ride the spa horses. They're for work only, her mother said. Although her father agreed, Helga thought she might be able to change his mind. At least he'd more likely to give in than her mother.

What about some of the nearby farm villages? She often passed through these small settlements traveling in her father's side car. Sometimes they stopped to buy milk or cheese. She noticed the immense draft horses used to pull farm machinery. Her father told her there once were lot more of these splendid animals, but tractors were rapidly replacing them. Helga thought that very sad. Why would someone rather use a tractor than a horse?

Sometimes Helga saw children riding ponies. Her father told her the farm children used their ponies to run errands for the family, even to go to school. Now that would be something! Helga started school in September. She imagined galloping down the road from her house to the small school in Bad Harzburg. Why couldn't her parents have been farmers?

As she considered her situation, a plan took shape. During the rest of the summer holiday she would use every tactic; pout, smile and mood to influence her father. If this failed to get her a ride on a spa horse, she would make friends with the farm children when school started. All she needed was to find one or two with a pony of their own. Surely they'd let her ride, once they realized what a true friend she could be.

A plan and backup plan, a sophisticated concept for most six-year-olds, not that Helga saw it that way. But even the youngest mind is capable of great ideas if motivated by determination. And Helga was indeed determined. One way or another she would live her dream.

She couldn't implement her plan until the following day, since her father wasn't expected home from the spa until late. So that evening she settled for playing 'refugees' in the playroom with Mark and four-year-old Anna. The children pushed little wooden trucks around the floor, pretending the vehicles were filled with escaping people. The children learned there were many refugees in Europe, fleeing from war and starvation. Other than that, none of them really knew what a refugee was. So they improvised, as children do, and made a good