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253 D Chapter Seventy-Five d TrAgedies And oTher evenTs in europe During the summer of 1960, part of which Marcus and I had spent exploring Greece and Italy with my mother, Anna had come from her village in the East to be with us in Berlin. Just as I had been “her” child long before, she experienced the exquisite joy of having another baby when Marcus was born. Only five months later, a telegram informed us that she was dead at age seventy-three. I would never stop mourning for her. Beginning with this shattering event, the year 1961 developed into a succession of disasters . On August 13, which would have been Anna’s seventy-fourth birthday, the Berlin Wall went up, dividing Germany forever, or so it seemed. The population of East Germany, as Communist Party Chief Erich Honecker exclaimed, had to be protected from evil capitalist spies sneaking into his wonderful democracy. The next blow came when the news arrived that my mentor and close friend, Walter Franck,was dead of cancer.The devastating report reached me on the same day that a news item appeared on the front page of the New York Times, according to which Hitler’s famous foe,Pastor Martin Niemoeller,had been the survivor of a car crash in Denmark that claimed the lives of his wife, Else, and their housekeeper, Dora. The President of the Church of Hessen and Nassau, Martin had resided in Wiesbaden since 1947 with his wife, their housekeeper, and young Martin, Jr., who was still attending high school.He spent the major part of his busy life traveling to the four corners of the globe; wherever he went, he not only preached the Gospel of Jesus Christ, but he talked about the guilt of the German people, not ever omitting his own part in it. On August 11,1961,Martin,Else,Dora,and eight-year-old Martin (daughter Hertha’s son) were ready to begin a long-planned vacation in Denmark. Against the wishes of his wife, who was well aware of her husband’s state of exhaustion, Martin refused to make use of his chauffeur-driven limousine; he insisted on taking the wheel of the private family vehicle , in those days a modest VW beetle. Else’s health was fragile. Her illness—Parkinson’s disease—had recently taken a turn for the worse;treatment in the United States had brought only temporary relief.Reluctantly, she took the seat next to her husband, while Dora and the boy climbed into the back of the overloaded vehicle.After passing the Danish border, the skies darkened, a heavy wind soon turned into a raging storm, and, in a curve, the light car swerved out of control, hitting a tree with full force. The two women did not stand a chance; seat belts had not yet been in- ParT Three 254 troduced by the automobile industry, and they were thrown from the car. Else died on the spot, Dora in the ambulance. The police found a horror scene, with luggage strewn all over the area, while some Coca Cola bottles lay unbroken. Miraculously, young Martin had suffered only a broken arm. From behind the wheel, rescuers pulled the heavily bleeding, unconscious driver, his head having hit the windshield. The ambulance sped to the hospital in Apenrade. Against all prognoses, he survived, but when he came out of his long coma, he learned from his sons that Else, his faithful companion of forty-two years, had been laid to rest side by side with Dora at the Wiesbaden Cemetery. Not even during his most trying times had Martin come remotely close to the state of total despair that gripped him now. Strong feelings of guilt tormented him, in spite of the assurance that the accident had not been his fault.“I killed them,” he kept repeating.“I killed them both!” The initial shock was followed by a deep depression. Once more, Martin , a human being eager to share each thought with a loved one, was sentenced to the hell of solitary confinement.For eight years,it had been Hitler who imposed this cruel sentence on him. Now, was it God? How would he live without Else? Why indeed should he go on living at all? He was almost seventy years old and, suddenly, tired of living. Heart seizures plagued him, and he suffered at least one full-fledged heart attack. What would Jesus say? Lord, what will Thou have me do...

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