Ann LeZotte - T4

I was thirteen years old.
My family and our neighbors
Had learned to accept me.
I was the deaf girl with pigtails
In a red and yellow calico dress.

Father Josef taught me
To write the whole alphabet.
I could read a couple of books.
I carried a pad and pencil

To write down answers
To questions I was asked
Or to ask for a pound of
Sugar or butter at the store.

Many people in town had
Learned my word signs.
It was still difficult
For me to speak.

I moved my lips
When I prayed in church.

I could feel the organ
Playing through the floor.
It shook
My whole body and soul.

At home I helped
My mother cook, clean,
And look after
Clara and Schatze.

It would seem
That my life was good.
But something terrible
Was about to happen.

Was the Nazi program that
Almost cost me my life.

It was named after
The address of its
Headquarters in Berlin,

Tiergartenstrasse 4.

Not soldiers
Or the Gestapo,
The secret police.

The directors were
Dr. Philip Bouhler
And Karl Brandt,
Hitler’s private physician.

They were not good doctors
Who wanted to help people.
They were under direct orders
To kill the mentally ill
And people with disabilities.

It made no difference to them
If we were children or adults.
It was just a job to them.

The Nazis believed that certain people
Were superior to other people.

They wanted the human race
To become an “Aryan” race.
They wanted to get rid of people
Who they thought
Polluted the gene pool.
This is called eugenics,
Or “racial hygiene.”

They wanted perfect people
To give birth to more perfect people.
They imagined Germany as a master race
Who would rule the world.

They attacked Jews, people of color,
Homosexuals, and Gypsies, among others.

And they decided
Disabled people
Were “useless eaters”
Who were “unfit to live.”

Were the first to die.

The Nazis knew that many Germans
Would be opposed to Action T4
If they knew the whole truth.
So they had to hide the facts.

They said “specialist children’s wards,”
But they meant children-killing centers.
They said “final medical assistance,”
But they meant murder.

Is the act or practice
Of killing or permitting the death of hopelessly sick
Or injured people or animals with as little pain as
Possible for mercy reasons.

It is a controversial procedure and sad
For everyone. A decision is usually made
By a patient or her loved ones.

The Nazis claimed the Disabled
Were so miserable in their lives
That they didn’t care if they lived or died.
They pretended they were helping us.

But I wanted
My life.
I liked being a part
Of the larger
Everything.

These things
Were happening
In our country.

But they didn’t tell me.

I used to play
Outside all day.
I’d jump rope, climb
Trees, and pick the tart
Little apples to eat.

I’d lie on the grass
And study my picture
Bible or the newspaper.

But now they wanted me
To stay in the house.

The seasons were changing.
Our roof sprang a leak
And the rain fell
Into buckets and the bathtub.

Schatze and I were bored.

But the adults were
Always
Looking out the window
And waiting for a knock
On the door.

One night
In March 1940,
Father Josef
Came to our house.

It was snowing and raining,
Making the roads icy.

Mother sat him by the fire
And gave him a glass of hot cider.
He smoked a long pipe.

After he warmed up
His thin face was still pale
And his hands were shaking.

He told my parents
To put me back in bed with Clara
Before he spoke with them.

I went to my room as I was told.
But many years later
My mother told me what he said.

That was the night
Terror came into our home.
Although I was so young,
I knew that moment
Was a dividing line
Between my childhood
And whatever came next.

Father Josef had visited Austria.
He met a woman named Anny Wodl.
She told him this story.

"I bore a Disabled child in 1934.
He had trouble walking and talking.
The doctors could not tell me the cause
Of his disability.
I didn’t know if he was suffering.
I put him in an institution
When he was four years old.

I became aware of the policies against
Disabled people.
I was afraid for my son’s life.

The Austrian authorities
Would not help me,
So I appealed to Berlin.

A man named Dr. Jekelius
Contacted me.

He made it clear
That he agreed
With the Nazis’ policies.

I realized then
That my son
Was going to die.

I begged Dr. Jekelius
To make his death
Quick and painless.
He promised me.

But later
When I saw his corpse
He had a pained look on his face.

Most people I knew
Disapproved
Of these actions
But they were
Too afraid to say so.”

He’d never heard
Such a terrible thing
In his life.
He made a vow
To protect me
At the expense
Of his own life.

But that he couldn’t protect me in my home.
In time,
The Nazis would look for me and find me there.

Father Josef told my parents
That he would take me with him and hide me
In a safe place
Until the end of the war.

My family was heartbroken,
But they agreed to let me go.

A few
Of my
Favorite things
In a shawl
Grandmother knitted:

A teddy bear named Emma,
A spool of brown thread and a needle,
An old fairy tale book with the story
Of Hansel and Gretel,
And my pocket-size pad and pencil.