Hurbanová No. 2
January 20, 1946

My dearest,

It was a mistake to let myself be dragged away, but I still hope everything will turn out well. It must turn out well. Ivan has now seriously agreed to grant me a divorce, but it’s a complicated matter. Tomorrow we will speak with a lawyer here and obtain a certificate of indigence so that the divorce can be processed from here, which is much quicker and simpler. I’m counting on 9 to 12 months.

Yesterday, I already wrote to the Ministry of the Interior in Bratislava to request an export permit for my luggage, and to the Austrian Embassy in Prague for a visitation permit to visit relatives in Vienna. Everything was sent express and registered, and I hope to receive a reply next week.

My reason tells me to wait here longer, but it’s very hard for me, and if I really can’t endure it, one day I’ll pack up and return — even without my luggage. So be prepared for the worst.

When I think about how we said goodbye... You were deathly pale, and I felt deathly sick. And I haven’t felt warm since. Ivan suggested taking me back to Vienna for four weeks, and then I’d have to return. But I declined. An endless horror is pointless!

All of Žilina has once again turned against me, and I’m being harassed day and night. Everyone thinks I’m being reckless and impulsive and that I’ll regret my decision. They just don’t understand anything that’s happened. How could they? I can hardly comprehend it myself!

Thinking of you,
Your Susanne

P.S. Only your letter with the picture with the beard has arrived so far. And the shorthand note on the back was illegible. So please, don’t write in shorthand!

Hurbanová No. 2
Žilina, C.S.R.
January 29, 1946

My dearest Wolfgang,

Even today, Tuesday, no mail has arrived from Vienna, and I’m starting to get very impatient. At the same time, I fear that the waiting is even worse for you, since you are likely even more uncertain about how I’m doing than I am about you — and so I truly hope that letters from us to you aren’t taking as long as those coming the other way.

Unfortunately, I have nothing to report. I continue to live here “in waiting.” I’m waiting for replies from Prague, from Bratislava, from Vienna. Not to mention England and France. Then I’m also waiting for warmer weather — and for time to pass.

You can expect a package soon; my friend Hertha wants to send us something we’ve missed dearly in Vienna, despite the kindness of your helpful mama. Don’t worry — everything is fine, as I learned today.

I spend most of my time cleaning the new apartment, which I hope to move Ivan into before I leave. Hopefully, I will never have to live there again myself.

In my thoughts I am with you day and night, and I find myself in a somewhat abnormal state. Is that any wonder?

And what about you, dear Wolfgang? And Vienna? When will we finally go to Teschner again? Or to the theater? Perhaps even (for the second time) to the cinema?

These comforting dreams of the future help me endure the unpleasant present.

Will a letter come tomorrow?

Susanne

Hurbanová No. 2
Žilina, C.S.R.
February 1, 1946

My dear Wolfgang,

Today, as always, I’m waiting for the mailman — still with no success. I’ve also received no letter from my mother in England, only a reply to the letter I wrote before my departure to Vienna. However, I did receive a negative response from the Repatriation Office in Prague, and a friend I asked to intervene personally there wrote to me saying that the smartest thing would be for me to take my seven belongings and go to Prague myself, handle everything there, and then continue to Vienna by express train.

That’s likely the route I will have to take, and I’ll travel from here to Prague as soon as I possibly can; I hope it will be possible by the end of next week. In the meantime, I’m trying to have my documents officially translated and certified here — not an easy task in this miserable little town.

I cannot yet give you my address in Prague, and it likely makes little sense for you to write there anyway, since mail takes so long. So please continue writing to me here. Anything that arrives after I’ve left will be forwarded to me.

Although I am very, very much waiting for your first letter — and the waiting is hard for me — I still have this comforting feeling that it cannot and will not change anything. It will only strengthen me. That is something Ivan cannot understand. He’s already saying, “He doesn’t even write to you.” He just can’t understand that for months I imagined you as crippled, or caught in barbed wire, or dead — frozen, starved, or parched — and now you are alive, so alive, and that this is enough for me, letter or no letter!

Who could possibly understand that — other than the two of us?

Greet your parents for me.
With love,
Your Susanne

P.S. I hope you’re not writing in shorthand. That would explain why your letters aren't arriving!

Hurbanová No. 2
Žilina, C.S.R.
February 5, 1946

My dear Wolfgang,

The first half of the third week has passed, and again today, no mail from you. During the night, the bridge between Žilina and Čadca collapsed, cutting off traffic between here and Prague — so it’s impossible to say how long it will be until one can travel again. Even nature seems to have turned against us.

My plan, which still stands firmly, is to travel to Prague around February 10, and from there — once I’ve taken care of my matters — to go directly to Vienna.

In my isolation here, the future — just like the past — feels like a distant, beautiful dream. And when I write to you without receiving a reply, that dreamlike feeling becomes even more unreal. Did you feel the same when you were writing into your physics notebook?

Sometimes fear takes hold of me, and I scold myself harshly for the "foolish things" I must have done while we were together. I think back and forth, wondering whether I revealed the whole truth too quickly, and whether too much was compressed into those few days… Doubts torment me often.

How are you, my dearest? Have you at least received any mail from me? If I could be sure of that, I would already feel half comforted — but I can’t even find that out! Have you seen anyone from my family? I hope I can at least count on their approval, if not their support — otherwise, I would be very unhappy.

Well, let’s hope things somehow work out.

Kisses from your
Susanne

Hurbanová No. 2
Žilina, C.S.R.
February 14, 1946

My dear Wolfgang,

Today another long-awaited letter from you arrived, and now I know I can expect mail from you regularly — even if it is quite old by the time it reaches me. Please don’t write to Žilina anymore, as I will be leaving for Prague on Monday at 02:50. Ivan has promised to forward any further letters to me, but I’m not so sure I can rely on him.

Of course, I still hope to be back with you before this letter even reaches you, but I really can’t say anything for certain. Hopefully, I won’t have to stay in Prague for long, since I have no money — that is, only enough for about 1–2 weeks. If necessary, I’ll just have to sell something — you manage when you have to — so don’t worry.

You should be receiving a “little something” from my friend Hertha Lloyd in England these days — hopefully, you’ll be the one to receive it personally.

If I could only already be past these last three days here, I’d feel much better. Although your worst fears haven’t come true so far, I’m still expecting a crisis at any moment — and what happens then, only God knows. My nerves are fraying, and his have long since broken.

I might not write again until I’m in Prague — so if you don’t hear from me for a few days, don’t be worried. But, dear Wolfgang, think of me strongly — I believe it helps — and always keep me in your heart.

Yours,
Susanne

P.S. My address in Prague for the first few days is:
p. J. Žaludová, Praha XII, Kourimská No. 24/4
Even later, letters should still reach me there.

P.P.S. One residence registration form is still missing, but it really isn’t very important. The name is: Rosa Weinberg, formerly with the retirement home of the Jewish Community, Malzgasse, Vienna II.
But please don’t send it here — instead, send it to my mother in England:
34, Beechwood Gardens, Slough (Bucks), England

Bratislava, 4:30 p.m.

My dearest,

We have now arrived in Bratislava after a freezing ride on a truck and a 10-kilometer march. The cold headwind perfectly matched my mood. The discussions during the journey never ceased, and at times I already regret that I allowed myself to be softened into returning at all.

Please don’t be angry with me for losing face at the very end — but I simply couldn’t go on any longer. Just a few days ago we were so happy, and now our time together has come to such an abrupt end. But this is not — and must not be — the end! Time will pass, and one day I’ll be back, and we won’t have to wait long. I know you are strong, and you’ve passed some of that strength on to me.

This is quite a bit of whining, I know — but it could be much worse. You should inquire at the Federal Ministry of the Interior, I., Herrengasse, about the entry permit, so at least I’ll have clarity on that.

It’s almost completely dark now, so I have to finish and post the letter.

Many kisses to your left hand,
from your Susanne

Written on a sheet from the physics notebook.