Her Hidden Life: A captivating story of history, danger and risking it all for love. V.S. Alexander

bowed his head. ‘Near the Eastern Front.’

      It was shocking enough that our soldiers were shooting unarmed men – but women and children as well?

      The second set of photos was even more gruesome and I blanched at the sight of corpses entwined in death. There were so many you could not tell where one body ended and the next began. The photos showed mounds of luggage, shoes and eyeglasses, followed by mountains of decomposing flesh. I was stunned. In the final picture, a naked man lay dead on a slab in front of an opening that looked like the door to an oven. A prisoner – nearly a corpse himself – stood by his side, presumably to make sure the body was cremated.

      ‘Is this propaganda from the Allies?’ I asked, not wanting to believe what lay in front of me.

      Karl shook his head. ‘No, the photos are real. They came from an SS officer at Auschwitz. You must keep what you’ve seen to yourself.’ He replaced the photos in the envelope and slid them back in his jacket. ‘There’s an underground network of officers who believe National Socialism must be stopped – for the good of Germany. We are determined to make sure this happens.’

      I didn’t want to hear his words – not because of Germany, but because I was selfish. Karl’s life was in danger. Anyone who defied Hitler was doomed. ‘Only a few men know about this? You’re taking a huge risk.’

      Karl nodded. ‘A risk worth dying for.’

      I trembled as if an icy wind had raced over me, my body full of conflicting emotions. On the one hand, I recognized my growing attraction for Karl and I admired his strength, courage and conviction. Not every man would place his life in a woman’s hands, or ask that she join him in keeping such a powerful and dangerous secret. The pictures he had shown me were already seared into my memory. What kind of tyrant could order these kinds of deaths? Shouldn’t all of Germany rise up to stop such atrocities? But so few people knew and what use would it be to start a revolution? The Reich, and its powerful officers, would crush anything in its way. Then I pictured Ursula dead upon the ground. She had sacrificed herself for her brothers. How could I dishonor her and Karl by ignoring the photographs? Karl studied me, awaiting my response. Finally, I asked, ‘What do you want me to do?’

      ‘Offer your strength,’ he said, grasping my hands. ‘Don’t betray me. I’m not alone, but few can be trusted.’ His breath caught and he stroked my hair. ‘It’s too much to ask, but perhaps one day you’ll return the love I feel.’

      I wanted to draw away because his words overwhelmed me. The only man who had ever professed love for me was my father. ‘Why should I love you when you may die? There’s no future in death.’

      ‘If Hitler continues to lead there will be no future for anyone.’ He rose from my bed and looked down upon me. ‘I must get back. Think about what I’ve said.’

      He started to leave, but I gripped his arm. ‘Did you know Ursula was planning to poison the Führer?’

      ‘Only through her hints, but she talked about it as if it were a joke. That’s what we were whispering about at the Teahouse the day we went. I cautioned her not to be so brazen, but I had no idea she had taken it upon herself to poison him without anyone’s help. She was so bitter about her brothers’ deaths. I was trying to comfort her – in fact, squelch such talk about Hitler.

      ‘Poisoning the tea was a foolish thing to do. She would have killed everyone who drank at his table. It was a suicide mission. If she hadn’t been identified as the perpetrator, all of us might have been executed.’

      I hesitated, but then admitted, ‘I saw the poison on her apron. I didn’t know what it was.’ Pangs of sorrow stabbed at me. ‘Maybe I could have stopped her if I had known, but would I want that knowledge? What would become of my parents if the SS thought I was involved? I don’t want them to die. They’re all I have in the world.’