I tell people the story of the Rabbits, many wonder what ultimately happened to Herta Oberheuser. She and Fritz Fischer escaped the hangman at Nuremberg. She was sentenced to twenty years in prison, but after five years was quietly released in 1952, her sentence commuted by the American government, perhaps to curry favor with the Germans as a result of pressure from the Cold War. She resumed the practice of medicine in Stocksee in northern Germany as a family doctor. Once Herta was recognized by a Ravensbrück survivor, Caroline and Anise Postel-Vinay urged a group of British doctors to pressure the German government to revoke Herta’s license to practice medicine. Herta fought back with powerful friends of her own, but Caroline took to her typewriter, lobbying the press in America, Great Britain, and Germany, and in 1960 Herta’s license was revoked, and Herta was forced to permanently close her doctor’s surgery.
After a successful lobbying campaign by Caroline, together with Norman Cousins, Dr. Hitzig, and lawyer Benjamin Ferencz, on behalf of the Ravensbrück Ladies, the West German government finally granted the women reparations in 1964. It was one of Caroline’s greatest triumphs, for it was a particularly harrowing process, since Poland was under Russian control and Bonn refused to recognize it as a country.
Through the years that followed, Caroline stayed in close touch with many of the Rabbits. She hosted them often at her home, and they came to see her as their godmother, often using that term as a salutation in their letters to her. She wrote that they felt like daughters to her.
One notable departure from real events is Caroline’s relationship with Paul Rodierre, a character sprung from my imagination. I gave Caroline this relationship to give her more of a personal connection to France and to dramatize the events happening there. I like to think she wouldn’t be too cross with me for giving her such a handsome literary partner.
Caroline died in 1990 and left her treasured home in the care of Connecticut Landmarks, which has kept it in lovely condition, just as Caroline wished. It is well worth a visit at any time, but in late May when the lilacs are blooming, you will understand why Caroline and her mother could not be away from their beloved garden for too long.
If my version of the story has inspired you to learn more about the events surrounding Lilac Girls and you would like to continue reading, there are many fine works of historical fiction and memoir that deal with the same topics, including Women in the Resistance and in the Holocaust, edited and with an introduction by Vera Laska; The Jewish Women of Ravensbrück Concentration Camp, by Rochelle G. Saidel; and Ravensbrück, by Sarah Helm.
Enjoy the journey. With any luck it will take you places you never dreamed possible.
To my husband, Michael, who still makes my compact go click.
Many thanks to those who made writing Lilac Girls such a joy:
My husband, Michael Kelly, who happily read every draft, shared my dream of telling Caroline Ferriday’s story, and never doubted this day would come.
My daughter Katherine, for her supreme wisdom, her encouragement, and for being the model for Kasia’s resourcefulness and intuition.
My daughter Mary, for her splendid editorial suggestions, cheerful, unflagging support, and for inspiring the character Zuzanna.
My son, Michael, for traveling with me to Poland, for discussing infinite plot variations as we drove to and from high school each day, and for his lightning in the sand.
Kara Cesare at Ballantine Bantam Dell, the most caring, talented editor a person could wish for, who understood and embraced Caroline’s story like no one else.
Nina Arazoza and the whole team at Ballantine Bantam Dell for their seamless collaboration and enthusiasm: Debbie Aroff, Barbara Bachman, Susan Corcoran, Melanie DeNardo, Katie Herman, Kim Hovey, and Paolo Pepe to name a few.
My amazing agent, Alexandra Machinist, who plucked me from the slush pile, insisted this story needed to be told, and made it happen.
Betty Kelly Sargent for her early encouragement and expertise, and who said, “All I need is a chapter.”
My sisters, Polly Simpkins for her wisdom, generosity, and unconditional love, and Sally Hatcher, a model big sister.
Alexandra Shelley, independent editor extraordinaire, for her honesty, deep knowledge of the subject, and manuscript help.
The wonderful Alicia Kubecka, Ravensbrück survivor, for her friendship and for telling me her incredible stories of loss and forgiveness.
Wanda Rosiewicz and Stanislawa Sledziejowska-Osiczko for their sweetness and love and for courageously sharing the details of their experiences as victims of the Ravensbrück sulfa experiments.
My mother, Joanne Hall, who could have had a houseful of lovely antiques but chose a houseful of children instead.
My father, William Hall, for his positivity.
My sister-in-law, the author Mary Pat Kelly, who said, “Just do it.”
Alexander Neave, Benjamin Ferencz, George McCleary, and Cecile Bernard, who knew Caroline and generously shared their memories of her.
Kristin Havill, Erica Dorsett-Mathews, Marj C. Vitz, Carol McCleary, and Barbara Bradbury-Pape of Bellamy-Ferriday House and Gardens, Connecticut Landmarks, for sharing their vast knowledge and support.
My mother’s dear friends Betty Cottle, Jan Van Riper, and Shirley Kennedy, who showed me how a generation of strong New England women can make the world a much better place.
The filmmaker Stacey Fitzgerald, for her friendship and for showing me the importance of mutual aid and cooperation.
Kristy Wentz, for her love and for keeping my life together.
Jamie Latiolais, for his color wizardry and insightful manuscript comments.
Dr. Janusz Tajchert and Dr. Agnieszka Fedorowicz, who welcomed me to Poland and lent me their knowledge of Ravensbrück and the sulfa experiments.
Bernard Dugaud, who shared his Frenchness and his champagne.
Barbara Oratowska, director of the Museum of Martyrdom “Under the Clock,” Lublin, Poland, for her stories about Lublin and “the Rabbits,” and for her dedication to caring for the remaining Ravensbrück survivors.
Anna Sachanowicz, who guided and interpreted our way through Poland, and Justyna Ndulue, who helped us in Germany.
Hanna Nowakowskicz, for her friendship and assistance.
David Marwell, director of the Museum of Jewish Heritage, for his time.
Nancy Slonim Aronie, for her fabulous Chilmark Writing Workshop.
Natasa Lekic and Andrea Walker at New York Book Editors, for their help and encouragement.
Carol and Chuck Ganz, for their support.
Carol Ann Brown, president of the Old Bethlehem Historical Society and Museum, Bethlehem, Connecticut, for her insight into beautiful Bethlehem’s past.
Jack Alexander and Chris McArdle of the Arnold Arboretum of Harvard University, for sharing their considerable lilac knowledge.
Janie Hampton, author of How the Girl Guides Won the War, for her research help.
Irene Tomaszewski, for her support and for co-writing the wonderful book Code Name: Zegota: Rescuing Jews in Occupied Poland, 1942–1945, with Tecia Werbowski.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
MARTHA HALL KELLY is a former copywriter turned novelist. Trained as a journalist, she has spent most of her professional life writing, predominantly television commercials and print campaigns for major advertising agencies, from J. Walter Thompson in Chicago and Atlanta to McCann-Erickson in New York. A native New Englander, Martha currently lives in Atlanta, Georgia, with her husband, Michael Kelly, a media executive. This is her first novel.
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