Sins of the Father

Sins of the Father

The day seemed to drag endlessly. Dr. Claus Miller used a paper towel to wipe perspiration off his forehead then looked at his watch. He'd been examining dozens of human mouths, drilling into decayed teeth and fitting dentures to old people. He was exhausted and needed a smoke and a cold beer. His last patient was late. He checked with his receptionist who said the patient would arrive shortly.

The heat wave in the city was unusual. Berliners were not used to extreme temperatures. They liked mild weather in summer and cold in winter. Their offices and homes were not equipped with the new cooling systems he'd read about in the American magazines. He could use such a… What was it called? Air Filters? Air coolers? Air conditioners? Yes. That was it. Air Conditioners. He wanted to be done in the clinic and envisioned the frothing mug of Pilsener waiting for him at Dietrich Tavern. He could feel cold brew sliding down his throat, leaving a chilled path down to his stomach… haaa…. it felt so cool and refreshing…

A knock on his door brought him back to reality. The door opened and Mr. Morgenstern walked in, his left cheek and eye considerably swollen. Anguished pain covered his face.

"Mr. Morgenstern? What is the matter? Why haven't you called me before it got so swollen? Here, sit down."

From his one good eye, the man gave the dentist a bewildered look and approached the "torture chair" very slowly. His fat tummy swayed with each hesitant step he took toward the chair. His good eye twitched while his lips trembled visibly. Reaching the chair, he put his heavy frame on the edge, frozen, taking a deep breath. He was a big man, obese and old. Dr. Miller had known him since he had just started his practice, in the early 50th.

Only six years had passed since then, and the pride he felt for re-opening his late father's dental clinic was laced with a great sense of loss. Ernest Miller passed away after a massive stroke a few months after the war had ended. It had shocked his family and everyone who had known him. His passing gave his decision to become a dentist the last push. The Miller Dental Clinic stayed unoccupied during his years of study. His mother wouldn’t let anyone use it. “It’s waiting for you,” she always said. “It must remain in the family, as your dear father used to say.” He missed his old man wishing he could be there to see his son follow the family tradition.

"Let me look at it," said Dr. Miller. "Please, move up in the chair."

Mr. Morgenstern looked at him and nodded. He pushed himself up the chair and heaved a deep sigh. The mounds of fleshy tissue around his belly and chest were vibrating, and what normally took no effort with other patients, seemed to be a major exercise for Mr. Morgenstern.

I must talk to him about going on a diet, thought Dr. Miller. If he gains more weight he won't be able to walk, and his heart will collapse…He wouldn’t want me to discuss his health… I must find the right moment…

He prepared his sterile tools and examined Mr. Morgenstern's teeth. The prognosis was not good. Mr. Morgenstern had a sizeable abscess in his left upper gum. Dental treatment was not possible until the abscess was drained by either surgical means or antibiotics.

Mr. Morgenstern lay motionless, but short tremors went through his protuberant body. His eyes were shut, and a single tear rolled down his cheek.

Dr. Miller looked at his silent patient, and was not sure how to handle him. Morgenstern's physical condition had deteriorated since his last visit, and he wasn't sure that a prolonged antibiotics treatment would agree with his vulnerable system.

It was years ago when Mr. Morgenstern had first visited Dr. Miller's dental clinic. Mr. Morgenstern was only one of thousands of refugees who came out of the concentrations camps after the war, and was desperate to rebuild his former life in Berlin. He used to be an opera singer, and his late wife was a brilliant Cellist with the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra. Dr. Miller remembered his father talking about Grand Opera nights, when people could not have enough of Helmut Morgenstern's magnificent voice.

It's a shame he became so obese, thought the doctor. He could have resumed his career. He was in a good shape after the war, looked fit and not much older than before… Well, every man for himself…

"Mr. Morgenstern, would you please come with me?"

The man seemed to be asleep, but Dr. Miller knew he wasn't, for his oversized chest rose and fell in a rapid pace. He didn't respond to Dr. Miller's voice.

"Now what?" said Dr. Miller. He had no idea why Mr. Morgenstern seemed to ignore him.

"Mr. Morgenstern? Helmut? Would you please get up and come with me?" A sharp note to his voice, Dr. Miller was annoyed. All he wanted was to have his jaw x-rayed. He wasn't prepared for what came next.

Mr. Morgenstern opened his eyes, stared at the dentist and said, in a broken high pitched voice, "There is nothing else you can take, Herr Doktor. Please… let me out of here… I don't feel too well… Don't hurt me again…"

Dr. Miller stood rooted, his brows creased and his hand clasped to his chest. The man was obviously daydreaming, thinking he was elsewhere, talking to another doctor. And his words didn't make sense.

With two quick strides, Dr. Miller reached the utility cabinet, pulled out a clean white towel, went to the basin in the corner and soaked it in tap water. With the damp towel, he returned to the chair and the now silent Mr. Morgenstern.

He dabbed his patient's forehead, talking to him softly. He had a feeling that bringing Mr. Morgenstern back from his daydream by more drastic methods would end in disaster.

When Dr. Miller pressed the towel to Morgenstern's forehead, steel fingers seized his wrist. Dr. Miller uttered a cry, his eyes moving to look at the hand which squeezed his wrist tightly, causing his own hand to tingle with numbness. Dr. Miller tried to release it but Morgenstern shook both hands vigorously and said," No Greta, Don't go. You're the only one who can help me. Please, I can't take it any longer…" His hand went limp and Dr. Miller sighed in relief. He rubbed his squashed wrist then pulled his chair forward to sit beside Morgenstern.

The cold beer awaiting him was forgotten. A real life drama was hidden in the mind of this patient, and curiosity got the better of him. But, not in his wildest dream could he have guessed the nature of that drama.

Mr. Morgenstern shifted his body on the narrow dental chair. He began perspiring and his eye movement was rapid. He moaned and murmured incoherently, until Dr. Miller put his hand on his shoulder and let it stay there.

"Greta, where have you been? I need a pain killer. I can't think straight… Are they ever going to end it? I'd better be dead than… Greta, my angel… If I ever see that chair again, I'm going to kill myself. I won't let them have the other one… They cannot do this to me. My voice…" Morgenstern burst into tears and his hands found the hand rests, pulling himself up to a sitting position.

Dr. Miller stared at him, expecting him to be wide awake, but he was still under that strange hypnotic-like trance which he couldn't explain.

"Mr. Morgenstern, can you hear me? Tell me about the chair."

Mr. Morgenstern opened his eyes; one completely closed with the swelling and the other clear but detached from reality. He stared at Dr. Miller, looked around the room and frowned at the dental chair he was sitting on. Suddenly, he rubbed his eyes and said to Dr. Miller, in a strange voice that was a mixture of a child's voice with the soft tones of a female, "Herr Doktor, I am not going to let you take the other one. You'll have to kill me first!"

"What are you talking about, Morgenstern? I want you to concentrate and tell me about the chair." Dr. Miller was adamant to get to the bottom of Mr. Morgenstern's hallucination.

Mr. Morgenstern looked at the dental chair and said," Herr Doktor likes to do the operations on this chair." He made a gesture with his hand, as if presenting a new invention and continued. "There is no operating room here in the camp. They attached straps to it to tie us down like animals… Herr Doktor?" He emitted a shrill and fought unseen restraining straps.

"Calm down, Morgenstern. No one is going to hurt you. Is the doctor going to extract one of your teeth? Is he a dentist? Why are you scared of extracting a tooth? I'm sure it won't be too painful…" Dr. Miller looked at him, thinking that he must have had a bad experience with a dentist in the past.

Morgenstern touched his swollen cheek and started laughing. His laughter sounded like the howl of a wounded jackal in the Schwarzwald. A shiver went through the doctor's body, sensing that there was more to the story than met the eye.

He left his patient's side and went to fetch a glass of water. He offered it to Morgenstern who was still sitting erect in the chair, staring into space. When Dr. Miller put the glass into his hand he murmured, "Danke Greta, Liebchen. Don't let him…"

Dr. Miller said, bringing his voice down to a whisper, "Where are you, Morgenstern? Tell me." He realized that Morgenstern was reliving an event he experienced while imprisoned in a concentration camp.

He knew about those camps. He was a teenager during those years, and never participated in the war. His only activity within the Nazi regime was forced on him as well as on thousands of other youth. They were made to join the Hitlerjugend - a youth movement which they said would make them better soldiers and better citizens. He hated the meetings and was appalled by the brutality some of his friends used in order to establish their rank as future leaders. News of victories were told in every meeting but nothing about atrocities. About those he’d learnt the hard way, after Germany’s surrender to the Allied Forces.

Like most of the young German generation, he chose to ignore the past and didn't have any qualms about wanting to open a new page in the history of the German people. He remembered the war years as "lean" years, when food supply was short and his father was away a lot. Being a conscientious and compassionate man, Dr. Ernest Miller went to the rural areas for three days a week, to treat patients from unfortunate families. He never enlisted into the army and used to say that they needed doctors and dentists at the home front as well.

Turning his attention back to Morgenstern he said, "Are you in pain?"

"You bastard!" Morgenstern shouted in his funny voice. "You have used me as a guinea pig! You didn't give me any anesthetics, and you're asking me if I'm in pain? May God strike you this minute and stop you from doing it again to the others…!"

Dr. Miller was shocked. What kind of dentist would inflict pain on a patient? And why was it necessary to strap down a patient? There was more to the story. The bits and pieces he heard from this distraught man painted a dark picture of unethical behavior, criminal in fact. He wanted to get to the bottom of it.

"Morgenstern, stop yelling and tell me. What did the dentist do to you?"

Silence hung in the air for long moments. Then, Morgenstern began to shake his head, and after a minute, his whole body was in motion. In his sitting position, he moved forward and backwards, rocking himself in an endless motion. Tears came again, this time without a sound.

Dr. Miller seemed to be transfixed on the sight of the flabby man, rocking himself on the narrow dental chair.

Mr. Morgenstern stopped rocking. He looked at the doctor and said, in a very low voice, "You know very well what you have done, Herr Doktor. You took my manhood… I'm going to lose my voice… you've turned me into a freak! One testicle was not enough. You had to take them both! And with no anesthetics! You butcher! You said that anesthetics were too precious to be used on a dirty Jew! You wanted to test and prove that we Jews do not feel pain! You are a monster Dr Ernst Miller. As long as I live I shall haunt you and your family!" A tremor went through his fat body and upon the last note of his tormented voice, he came out of his reverie.

Dr. Miller froze. He must have misheard. Has Morgenstern mentioned his father's name? It must have been a mistake. And he knew then why Morgenstern was so fat, why he never resumed his singing career.

Can this be true? He thought. The man was castrated in a concentration camp. Was that what they did to inmates? Carried out Inhuman tests on Jews? And why did he mention my father’s name? He must have confused me with him… But how come he knew my father’s first name…?

Shaking his head, he brushed aside his thoughts. The patient seemed to have relaxed for the first time on the chair, breathing evenly, his eyes closed. A tremor went through his obese body. As in slow motion, he moved his hands, opened his eyes and regained consciousness. A shadow of uncertainty passed in his one good eye when he recognized the dentist, then he turned his gaze away from him.

Dr. Miller knew he had to clarify the issue. Seeing that Mr. Morgenstern was quite composed, he daringly asked, "What was the dentist's name again? I didn’t quite get it."

Mr. Morgenstern looked puzzled and said, "Are we finished, Dr. Miller? My jaw is still sore…"

Dr. Miller realized his patient had no recollection of what had happened. He asked Mr. Morgenstern to join him in his office where he prescribed a large dose of antibiotics and told him to be back for treatment after the swelling had subsided.

The doctor was still shaken by hearing his father's name coming in conjunction with the horror Mr. Morgenstern was reliving. A hidden string in his heart vibrated, demanding clarification from the poor man. He wasn't sure he ought to pursue the subject but he couldn't let the issue go. His mind went back to those years when the Vaterland was in war, when his father was away a lot. It was absolutely preposterous to think he was involved in inhuman actions as were described by Mr. Morgenstern. He still had the greatest respect for him, both as a doctor and a person. I must know, he thought. I can’t let my family name be tarnished in any way. He had to clear this with his patient. Shaking his head vigorously, chasing away confusion and misunderstanding, Dr. Miller repeated his question, hoping Mr. Morgenstern would be able to answer.

Examining Mr. Morgenstern’s stance, Dr. Miller was looking for any sign of trauma, of being on the verge of doing something crazy or unexpected. The incident on the dental chair was extraordinary, taking into consideration the nature of the accusations. The man was pale, his face hard to read for it was half swollen. His good eye looked at him with such concentration that he had to avert his eyes from him. Hard to tell if his story is true and accurate. I must try to relax him, then ask him some questions.

Mr. Morgenstern looked at his watch and then at the doctor. He feared he had another episode of daydreaming just by looking at his watch. The doctor's question reaffirmed his suspicions. He remembered nothing, although he had a pretty good idea of what had transpired. He was uncomfortable with the thought that he had shared with the dentist details from his past. Dr. Miller was probably feeling sorry for him. I don't need his pity! He thought. I don't need his understanding and compassion! I want revenge! Someone must pay for what his father did to me!

Suppressing his anger, Mr. Morgenstern rubbed his large hands forcefully against his thighs and kept staring at Dr. Miller. He dreaded the outcome. He never intended to bring up the past, although he always had that hidden grudge against the young Dr. Miller. It was now something beyond his control. Perhaps it was time to straighten things up.

Mr. Morgenstern looked the doctor straight in the eyes and said slowly, in his squeaking voice, emphasizing each word, "His name was Dr. Ernst Miller and he was your father." Saying what he wanted to say for many years, Mr. Morgenstern left the clinic, walking slowly out of the building. He thought about revenge. Pure old fashion revenge, to satisfy years of humiliation, frustration and profound hatred towards the man who inflicted unimaginable suffering on hundreds of men and women. The time was right, he thought. It was God's will that chose the timing. He must finish what has begun.

*******

For many years, Mr. Morgenstern kept his hatred under control. Revenge was on his mind every time he came to see young Dr. Miller for his dental problems. He kept telling himself that the doctor was too young at the time and knew nothing about the atrocities his father had committed during the war. He was not to blame… On the other hand, perhaps his father did tell his family of his “extra ordinary achievements”… The results of tests performed on Jewish inmates in the concentration camp. He must have been proud of his father…

At that moment, Mr. Morgenstern made his decision. No more doubts. No further procrastination. Ten years have gone by, and not all war criminals have been punished. It is time for the guilty to be publically renounced.

*****

After Mr. Morgenstern left, Dr. Miller felt faint, but then remembered the trips his father used to take to the "country" every week, and realized that Morgenstern did not make a mistake. His head spun. The notion that his father participated in the horrid experiments the Nazi doctors had conducted in the concentration camps made him sick to his stomach. It's a good thing he's no longer alive, he thought. No one has to know. What will become of my children if everyone knows?

He gathered his jacket and bag and left the clinic, nodding to the receptionist on his way out.

At home, he said nothing about the incident but his wife noticed his preoccupation. She inquired about his day and asked what was bothering him, but he was determined not to tell his family about what he had learnt. He said he was just tired, kissed her fondly and retired to his study with a cold beer.

Dr. Miller slept little that night. He tossed and turned, but the images of a dental clinic in a camp, where innocent inmates were made to suffer unimaginable torture hadn't left his mind. He thought of his kind father who became a butcher every time he entered that clinic. It was something his mind could not perceive. He finally got out of bed and spent the rest of the night in his den, going through family albums and convincing himself that Mr. Morgenstern did make a mistake.

In the morning, he left early for work. He decided to walk instead of using the bus, hoping the fresh air would revive him and lift his spirits.

The streets were quiet, traffic was slow and the doctor enjoyed his walk. At the entrance to his building, he stopped at the newspaper stand to collect his morning paper. He paid for it and absentmindedly tucked it under his arm, proceeding to his rooms.

At the clinic, he let himself in and went to his office, tossing the newspaper on the desk. He believed that the previous day's event would be no more than a bad dream and was ready to start a new day of drilling and looking after his patients’ dental health.

He pulled his chair out and was about to sit when his eyes fell on the newspaper on his desk. His father's picture was spread all over the front page. Hurriedly he opened it and read the headlines. It said, "Survivor of concentration camp accuses the late Dr. Ernst Miller of performing sterilizing operations on Jewish inmates in a dental clinic, without anesthetics."

The paper fell to the floor. Dr. Miller stared at it, his hands shaking and his heart drumming wildly in his chest. This can't be happening, he thought. How can the story be in the paper? Who could have told them? He stared at his father's picture on the front page. Father, What are they saying about you? It says you were a monster… They say you did horrible experiments… That can't be true! You were the most caring man I knew! He fell back into the chair and clutched his head in his hands. Sitting immobile for a few minutes, realization dawned on him when he remembered Mr. Morgenstern's words, "As long as I live, I shall haunt you and your family!"

He slipped from the chair to the floor, losing muscle control, as a terrible exhaustion took over him. He felt a sharp pain in his chest which seemed to get worse by the minute. His breathing became shallow and his vision blurred. Papa, he thought. What have you done? Why must I pay for your sins?

That was the last coherent thought Dr. Claus Miller ever had.


Hanna © June 2003