Getting a call from the Gestapo.

• Author: Winick, Myron
• Position: Literary Scene - Personal account

IT WAS 10:30 a.m. when I finished my regular rounds. I had been up almost the entire night assisting in an emergency surgery. I headed for my room, took off my shoes, lay down on top of the covers, and, in minutes, was fast asleep. I was awakened by a short rap on the door. I looked at my watch; it was 11:30.

"Come in." The door opened and one of the nurses aides came in. "Doctor, there are two men outside in the waiting room who want you to come down right away." She was pale and obviously frightened. She held a small card in her hand, which she stretched out, trembling. "Who are they? What do they want?" She did not answer; she just dropped the card on the small table and ran out of the room.

I was sitting on the bed but could see her scurrying down the hall through the half-open door. I walked to the table and picked up the card. It had a swastika at the top and then a name: S.S. Sergeant Hans Krause. No wonder she ran. I sat on the bed and began to put on my shoes.

The Gestapo! What did the Gestapo want with me? All sorts of things flashed through my mind, but I truly could not think of anything I had done that would interest the Gestapo. Unless ... could they have found out about the study somehow? Who would have told them? It could be any one of a dozen people. Their spies were everywhere. It must have something to do with the study. Maybe they do not know--only suspect. I must keep cool; I must answer all questions as truthfully as I can but, at the same time, try to hide the study. For if they find out for certain that it exists, I am dead--we all are dead.

I straightened my tie, put on my white coat, and walked toward the waiting room. The room was empty except for the two S.S. men seated in easy chairs. I walked over to the taller of the two, the picture of what the German Aryan was supposed to be: blonde, blue-eyed, fair skinned, and extremely well built. In his black uniform with his swastika armband he indeed was an imposing figure. "Sergeant Krause?" He nodded. "I am Dr. Orenstein." He stood up, towering over me. His companion rose almost simultaneously. "You will come with us."

"But where? I have patients. What is it that you want to know?"

"You will come with us--now!"

"Let me get my coat."

"You will not need it; just come as you are. It is not that cold outside and we have a car."

I nodded and followed them into the street. The other man opened the door of the black Mercedes; I got in--Krause followed. The door slammed. The...