THE REV. WERNER LINDEMANN stands in his living room, his eyes burning intensely. The news churned out by his FAX machine isn't good. A doctor at a hospital in Essen has just informed him they cannot admit a 10-year-old girl with leukemia. Medically, they believe little can be done. Her chances of survival are simply too slim. Lindemann, a man of tremendous faith, cannot accept the decision easily.

"This was her only chance," he says, dropping the two long sheets of paper on the floor.

The girl is a victim of the 1986 Chernobyl nuclear reactor disaster that spewed radiation across Northern Europe.

Lindemann shakes his head in exasperation. He knows the girl won't be the first or the last child to die from the technological nightmare. And even though 8,000 Soviet children have visited Germany for rest and recuperation, it frustrates him that more isn't being done.

In less than an hour, Lindemann will meet with 30 other children from six villages scattered in the danger area in the Ukraine and Byelorussia. Fortunately these kids, ages 9-14, are healthy.

While a German dentist shows them how to properly care for their teeth, Lindemann sits in the background with an invisible toothbrush, getting laughs.

Increasingly, Lindemann's life has revolved around these children, kids who cannot do what other children take for granted.

"They need food without radioactivity, they need to run in meadows and woods without worry," he says.

For five weeks, they have been getting these things. Lindemann compares the long, sad faces he first encountered with the smiles that now greet him.

"They are not the same faces," he says.

In another week they'll return to their villages, and that upsets Lindemann.

"What the children need most is not to live there (in their home environment)," he says. "It's against human rights that families are still living in this dangerous region."

Still, he believes they've benefitted from their stay here. They rode bicycles, swam, played soccer and giggled and talked into the night. U.S. soldiers of the 81st U.S. Army Field Arty Det on the St. Barbara Casern in the nearby community of Dulmen hosted a cookout in their honor.

Lindemann also works to bring ill children to Germany for medical treatment.

"Many diseases like pneumonia, bronchitis, thyroid conditions, cancer and an immune deficiency illness called 'Chernobyl AIDS' have increased drastically among children," he says. "Infant mortality and birth defects are on the rise."

Then there is the matter of money. There is never enough money. Someone must pay for the food, clothing, translators and travel. The visit for 30 children cost 53,000 marks. Only 22,000 marks has been collected.

The expense for an ill child runs 350-700 marks daily. To date, his organization has spent 200,000 marks on sick children, but is short 30,000 marks, or $18,000.

Lindemann says much of the money has been raised through donations, but contributions are dwindling.

Working with the children has both its rewards and drawbacks. Dr. Maike Seifert, a pediatrician who is hosting two 11-year-old girls, says a 9-year-old girl who came to Germany died last December.

"The mother could not telephone her husband. She was here all alone with her dead child. It was very sad," she says.

Treating the ill in the Soviet Union would make more sense, she says.

"There are many who need treatment and just a few come here," she says. "What we're doing is like a drop of water on a hot stone."

More Soviet doctors should be brought to Germany and the United States for training, she suggests.

Tanya Puntosova and Angela Hramtzova, both 11 and both from the same Byelorussian village of Cheryakovska, are beginning to fit well into the Seifert household. Adapting to the German cuisine was their biggest hurdle.

"At first they didn't like cheese or rice or a salad," Seifert says.

During a game of boule — similar to boccie ball — shouts of both Russian and German fill the Seifert's backyard. But it was Puntosova and Hramtzova who were speaking German. Germans Fabian and Annika Seifert were speaking Russian, a language they are studying in school.

Lindemann says he wants to continue to bring children to Germany but needs more financial help.

Lindemann also thinks the international community should become more involved in the human side of what has become the world's worst nuclear disaster. More efforts should be made to relocate families, he says.

In the meantime, he will continue working with the children and seeing sad faces become happy faces, at least for awhile.

"But it's not enough," he says. "Not enough."

Migrated