Barbara U. Cherish - The Auschwitz Kommandant: A Daughters Search for the Father She Never Knew

It must have been his photograph which triggered the dreams that would eventually follow years later.

One afternoon remains so vivid in my memory that I can close my eyes and revisit the experience. I was still in my twenties and Id hidden his picture at the bottom of my dresser drawer. It had always been my secret, the photo and what it represented. Studying his picture wasnt unusual for me, but for some reason, that particular moment stands out, although it was one of so many.

Holding his picture, wishing to reach through to the image and touch his face, I gazed at the soft dark eyes looking off dreamily into the distance. They conveyed such a thoughtful sadness. As I studied his features, familiar yet not so familiar, I longed to hear his voice. Was it stern yet kind? I felt the old yearning along with that sense of being lost.

I desperately wanted to reach back in time and draw him out of the photograph and back into my life. He had been part of my life for such a short time. But there was also something dark, even evil in the photo that always haunted me.

I heard footsteps in the outside hallway and hurriedly, guiltily replaced the beloved photo beneath my clothes in the dresser.

It may have been that same night when I had one of the few dreams Ive had of him: two arms extended through the heavens. Long black gloves covered the hands. They were reaching for me and I felt a paralyzing, terrifying evil power that wanted to pull me to the other side. I tried to avoid them, but couldnt resist their strength. The black gloves portrayed his dark side, but the instant our hands touched, I sensed an overwhelming force of love and peace and I believe he was communicating with me.

Once, long ago, I was instructed to forget his name and everything about him, denying any connection between us. The more I thought about him, the more questions I had. If I could just step into his photograph and look around, trying to fathom reasons why he rose to the top, why he was ever associated and had volunteered to join such a sinister organization? He became a major part of Hitlers human machinery, and this in itself both horrified and fascinated me. It was the source of my greatest shame.

But the secrets of our lives, those we find most significant, dont allow us much respite. They keep rising to the surface until we acknowledge them. He was my secret, the most disturbing factor of my hidden past, the cause of my quest, but he was also the focus of my search for the truth about myself.

I vividly remember that night so long ago. I was already asleep when my oldest sister Brigitte gently woke me and gave me the photo, pressing it secretly into my hand whispering her emotional farewell, I will always love you. Dont ever forget us.

It was early December 1956 and I was thirteen years old, accompanied by my recently adoptive parents and a three-year-old brother, facing a whole new future. With my biological mother hospitalized, and without my fathers presence, I had been placed as a foster child with the Poune family who decided to adopt me after three years.

We left Nuremberg for the seaport of Bremerhafen, traveling by train arriving several days later. I always loved riding on trains and it was thrilling to actually experience the encounters of the sleeper and dining cars. Courteous porters wearing tight-fitting dark blue uniforms with round pillbox-type caps were eager to assist us. Crisp white linen tablecloths decked the dining car just like the trains portrayed in my favorite old black and white films.