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WHEREVER THEY MAY BE
© 1972, The
Beate Klarsfeld Foundation
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Chancellor Kiesinger sat in the center, flanked by
former chancellor Ludwig Erhard, Bruno Heck, the secretary general of the
party, and Defense Minister Gerhard Schröder. Kiesinger was writing; he
appeared to be putting the finishing touches on the speech he would deliver in
about an hour.
I walked slowly down the aisle, stopping every five or
six yards to listen to the speech and jot something on my pad. When I got to
the end I noticed that the table behind which Kiesinger was sitting was much
wider than it had seemed from the rear. I would not be able to lean across it
and reach his face. I hesitated for a few moments. Two or three security guards
stood at either end of the table. I went up to one of them, showing my pad. I
had to improvise.
Suddenly I looked up and motioned with my hand,
pretending to be waving at someone on the far side of the table. Then, as if it
were the most natural thing in the world, I asked the guard: "I should like to
get to a friend there. May I pass behind the table?"
He hesitated:
"There's no passageway."
I insisted.
"Go around on the outside.
You can't go this way."
I stayed where I was and kept smiling toward
the far side of the table. He took me gently by the sleeve and whispered: "All
right, go ahead, but be quick."
I slipped behind the dignitaries.
As I got behind Kiesinger he sensed my presence and half turned around.
My nerves tensed agonizingly. I had won. Shouting "Nazi! Nazi!" at the top of
my lungs, I slapped him. I never even saw the expression on his face.
The next thing I remember is that Bruno Heck grabbed me around the
waist. Behind me I could hear Kiesinger's voice: "Is it that Klarsfeld woman?"
Before I was hustled out I had time to hear the buzzing that swept
through the hall. All the Bundestag members who were there were moving in
confusion toward the platform. The reporters were streaming off their benches.
I felt as if I were in a vacuum. I couldn't think. All I could do was
keep repeating to myself: "I did it. I did it. All that work was not for
nothing."
The procession escorted me along corridors and staircases and
everyone stopped to watch. The policeman who was holding me
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WHEREVER THEY MAY BE
© 1972, The
Beate Klarsfeld Foundation |
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Page 56 |
Forward |
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