The audience leapt to its feet. At Willy’s urging, Ursula stepped forward and waved, eliciting a new round of cheering. Once the crowd had quieted, Willy continued. “As talented as Fräulein Ursula is, wait until you meet her younger sister. Anna, please come forward.”
Anna turned to Ursula for support. Ursula nodded. “Go ahead. Just like we practiced.” Ursula wasn’t sure if Anna was excited or terrified as she tentatively stepped forward, her violin and bow clutched to her chest while her large blue eyes drank in the horde of people. As the cheering increased, she raised her bow to the crowd. The audience roared in response, and Anna beamed as she glanced at her smiling sister. In Ursula’s experience people either came alive on stage or shut down. There was no maybe. No in-between. Anna relished the attention; she was a performer. That much was clear.
Willy held up his hands for silence.
“But let me be clear, we’re here to honor Frau Ilse Bergmann, a mother, a wife, a talented violinist who did so much to honor her colleagues, her city, and her country. Frau Bergmann died in a tragic and needless accident while trying to aid a fellow human being. Each piece you will hear today was taught to Anna by Frau Bergmann, and Anna dedicates her performance today to her beloved teacher.” Ursula commended Willy on his choice of words. Anyone else might have been arrested for such audacious words in support of a Jew.
Anna opened the concert with the “Melodie” from Gluck’s Orfeo ed Euridice, followed by Ursula singing “Che faro senza Euridice” from the same opera. They had chosen pieces meant to evoke strong emotions, so by the time the duo had finished their forty-five-minute presentation, the audience was exhausted. Most people were silent as the final musical note floated across the broad, open space. Anna lifted the bow and opened her eyes. She took a moment to return from her emotional, musical journey, then bowed deeply to the stunned crowd, who had never before heard someone so young master such challenging pieces.
Taking advantage of their silence, Willy thanked everyone for coming and wished them good health in the coming days. As people filed out of the amphitheater, many well-wishers stopped to chat with Ursula and Anna, thanking them for the gift of music. Ursula watched Anna handle the accolades with aplomb, as if she’d been performing publicly for years. When the space was empty, Ursula turned to her sister and asked how she felt.
“I feel like Frau Bergmann is smiling down from heaven.”
Ursula nodded. “I couldn’t agree more, Anna. And through this concert you’ve been introduced to the public—”
“—who clearly love you,” Willy finished.
“Yes, they do,” a voice said from nearby. Anna, Ursula, and Willy turned in unison. Adolf Hitler stood staring intently at them, his blue eyes focused on Anna, who blanched as he approached.
“Herr, Herr, mein . . .” Anna stuttered.
The Führer chuckled and placed his hands on Anna’s shoulders. “No need, my dear. I came to hear you play, and, by God, you are magnificent! What musical gifts you Becker girls possess. I should like to thank your father for sharing you with us. Is he present?”
Ursula interceded. “He has already left.”
Still smiling at Anna, Hitler asked, “I trust his health is well?”
Ursula felt the silent jab at their shared past. “He is fine, Herr Führer. He simply wanted to return home.”
Hitler turned to Ursula now, his face an inscrutable mask. He stared at her, then smiled and waved his hand. “No matter, my dear. Anna shall play in the Berlin symphony orchestra. She is more than capable, do you not agree, Willy?”
“Yes, Uncle.”
“See to it that she meets the maestro and finds suitable placement.”
“Certainly.”
Hitler’s eyes remained locked on Ursula’s. “I must take my leave, but it has been a pleasure to hear your exquisite voice again, Fräulein. I find there are some talented Jews that are worth keeping in Germany. Would you not agree, Willy?”
Willy recognized the impossible nature of the question and paused before answering. “Yes, Uncle.”
Hitler broke eye contact with Ursula and turned to face Anna. He gingerly took her hand, still clutching the bow, and lifted it to his lips. He kissed it as he held her gaze. “You are exceptional, my dear.”
Without acknowledging Ursula, he turned and walked away, followed closely by his toadies. Watching him, Ursula’s earlier excitement evaporated. “At least Anna is valuable to him now.” She turned to Anna and whispered, “See? Didn’t I tell you that he is a buffoon?”
Her sister was silent. Her unblinking eyes were focused on the spot where Hitler had been standing.
“Anna, are you alright?” Ursula asked.
Anna turned slowly and looked through Ursula. “He was amazing,” she breathed.
“Who? Hitler?” Ursula asked, astonished.
“Yes. He has the bluest eyes I have ever seen.”
1939
10
Over the next months, financial conditions improved in the Becker household. Not only did Ursula continue to sing, but Otto’s physical condition strengthened to the point that he could work. Because of his health history, Otto was unable to seek employment through the National Labor Service. But Willy had intervened and found him jobs that ensured a reasonable wage that kept food on the table and pride in his soul. In addition, Ursula had noted that whatever they couldn’t afford would simply appear in a basket on their doorstep, courtesy of Willy.
Other people padded their own pantries by trading information to the Nazis in return for food. The previous week two families from their apartment building had been seized in the middle of the night. Ursula had covered her head with her pillow in an effort to muffle the terrified screams from Frau Heileman and her five-year-old daughter as they were hauled away. Based on the bulging waistline of an elderly man named Hans Stille who lived on the third floor, Ursula assumed he had informed on the Jewish family. By the way he sneered at her when they passed on the stairs, she also believed he knew her secret. She was meticulous in her greeting each time they met, ignoring his leers as she lowered her gaze and used the most formal tone in her speech.
Anna knew little of this, as she had been spending increasing amounts of time away from the apartment. True to his word, Hitler had found her placement in the Berlin orchestra, and she had quickly risen to second chair violin. Their infatuation with each other had grown such that they spent most leisure time together. When she wasn’t rehearsing, Anna was whisked away in swastika-ornamented cars that delivered her to wherever Hitler was at the moment.
Although Ursula and Willy had done a yeoman’s job of trying to keep the relationship from Otto, he discovered the affair.
“Anna, you will no longer see this man. Ever!” Otto’s hands shook as he spoke.
Anna glowered. “You can no longer tell me what to do, Papa. I’m a grown woman—”
“You are nineteen years of age!” Otto bellowed.
Anna continued as if he’d not spoken. “—and I can do what I want, with whom I want, and where I want.”
“Do you hear yourself, Anna? You speak like a child throwing a tantrum!”
“Adolf says that I’m capable of making decisions. And I choose to carry on my relationship!” They squared off, and Ursula knew that Otto’s cause, albeit just, was lost.
Anna raised her chin in defiance, then exited the apartment, saying that she’d return later that evening, or perhaps the following day. Ursula and Willy exchanged worried looks and sat next to Otto, who collapsed on the couch with his face in his hands.
“Papa?”
Otto shook his head. “I’ve already lost her, Ursula. I lost you, and now I have lost Anna.”
Ursula bit her lip. “You haven’t lost me, Papa. You have gained Willy.”
Otto smiled weakly. “Forgive me, Willy. You’re a good man. It’s just—”
Otto’s gaze turned far away, and he remained silent and still.
“Papa, what are you thinking?”
Otto remained mute.
Ursula glanced nervously at Willy. His face expressed the concern Ursula was feeling.
“Papa?”
The corners of Otto’s mouth turned up, and Ursula thought he was going to cry. Instead, he started laughing. It was quiet at first, but then blossomed into large, loud guffaws that filled the small apartment. Never having seen her father so out of control, Ursula sat back and watched, unsure. When he calmed, he whispered so quietly that Ursula leaned forward.
“I didn’t hear you, Papa. What did you say?”
He looked directly into her eyes. “Belly of the beast. That’s what I said. We are in the belly of the beast now.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I. I don’t understand why or how this has happened, but desperate times call for desperate measures. How better to control a man than through his heart, eh?”
Otto abruptly stood and rubbed his hands together. “Yes, we shall remain close to Herr Hitler and thereby gain some control over our situation. Perhaps that was Anna’s plan all along. Come, let us dine on the delicacies Willy has brought. You told me once, Ursula, that we should focus on what we have instead of what we don’t have. Having lost two beautiful wives, I cannot bear another loss. I will do what it takes to keep my family together. For the sake of our survival, let’s enjoy the here and now.”
Ursula, Willy, and Otto sat at the small kitchen table. Willy had brought ham, flour, sugar, and salt in such quantities that Ursula was able to create Eisbein with sauerkraut and Pfannkuchen for dessert. When the aroma of freshly baking pastry escaped the apartment, neighbors came calling and were rewarded with a small packet and a promise from Ursula to share if more food windfalls came the Beckers’ way. Otto closed the door on the last neighbor and said, “We won’t be sharing any more, Ursula.”
“But Papa, Willy brought enough for—”
Otto raised his hand. “We don’t know what the future holds. From now on we’ll keep our food to ourselves.”
Ursula accepted the not-so-subtle reprimand and sat quietly as Willy apprised Otto of Hitler’s strategic plans. “He has signed a pact with Stalin.”
Otto placed his fork carefully on his plate. “For what purpose?”
“A non-aggression agreement if war should break out in Europe.”
“But that would put a target on Germany’s back. If Germany is making agreements with other countries, the rest of Europe will think we want war.”
Willy nodded. “He does want war, Herr Becker. He intends to take Poland with the Soviets’ help. Germany and the Soviet Union will divide the spoils.”
Otto blanched. “When?”
“The pact was signed two days ago. I know about it only because I overheard von Ribbentrop and my uncle discussing it over lunch. He plans to invade on September first.”
Otto leaned back in his chair and ran his hands over his haggard face. “My God. And then?”
Willy shrugged. “That’s all I know, but we need only look to the past in order to determine the future. Consider my uncle’s vision of Europe as a chess board. He manipulated Mussolini by meeting with him in 1934 and creating a gentlemen’s agreement to stay out of Austria. And then, weeks later, Austria’s chancellor was assassinated. Coincidence? I think not. Mussolini was furious, as you can imagine, and distanced himself from my uncle. And then, miraculously, when Italy invaded Ethiopia, they were friends again when Germany supported the barbarian attack.”
Ursula leaned in, horrified at how easily lives were used as currency in the egotistical warmongering between two sociopaths.
Otto shook his head. “I don’t understand, Willy.”
Willy leaned forward. “When my uncle sent 22,000 troops into Rhineland, he armed it to the teeth. All of Europe’s collective attention, including Mussolini’s, was on the western side of Germany, on Rhineland.”
Otto drew a quick breath and sat back. Ursula looked from him to Willy, who crossed his arms and smiled as Otto’s quick mind put the pieces together. “And that’s when he invaded Austria,” Otto breathed.
“Exactly. Now he plans on invading Poland. Why would he do that?”
“To distract so that he can invade elsewhere?”
“Yes. Belgium and the Netherlands is my guess.”
“To what end?”
Willy took a deep breath. “Again, this is just a guess, but I think his ultimate goal is Britain. He often talks of their dominance during the Great War. He is afraid of the Brits, and I think controlling them would be his goal.”
Ursula’s mind reeled. “But certainly someone will stop him!”
The two men turned to her but didn’t speak.
“What if he’s successful in attacking Belgium and the Netherlands? What would that mean?”
Otto groaned. “It would mean another war, Ursula. One in which Germany would be fighting all of Europe and, perhaps, even Britain. I can’t survive another war.”
Ursula violently shook her head and stood, knocking her chair over. Willy reached out a hand to calm her, but she pulled away. “No, Willy. Someone has to do something! People are literally being dragged through the streets. Good men and women who have worked their whole lives to build foundations for their families are being sent away to God knows where, leaving their children to wander the streets in search of food or be taken in. Neighbors turn on neighbors in an effort to please their captors. They receive rewards to turn in solid citizens who have committed no crime. It’s insanity. Pure insanity!” She picked up her chair and sat heavily. “Someone has to do something. I have to do something.” Ursula felt suddenly nauseated by the tasty, expansive meal she had prepared. She stood again, her chair scraping the floor.
“I don’t care what you say, Papa. I’m offering our leftover food to our neighbors. I can’t stop Hitler from driving Germany to war, but I can take care of my community to the best of my ability. It starts with one person, one gesture, and this is mine.” As Otto looked on mutely, Ursula crossed to the door and opened it wide, then yelled into the corridor. “There’s food here for anyone who is hungry!” Within seconds four people appeared at the door, the smallest of them only three years old. Hanna Weinman gazed up at Ursula with an earnestness that cut straight to her heart. “Danke,” she whispered as she hugged Ursula’s legs. “Thank you, beautiful lady.”
1940
11
Each of Willy’s predictions came to fruition. Two days after Hitler invaded Poland, the rest of Europe declared war on Germany. Hitler stormed the Low Countries and, just recently, had successfully invaded France. The world had split into warring factions, and the German economy was now almost entirely focused on supporting the war effort. It was true that unemployment had fallen dramatically, but the reality was that most jobs were focused on constructing Hitler’s war machine. Men who had been milliners, butchers, and bakers were now employed by the Reich, riveting and assembling in armament factories. The result was that the average German was starting to feel the pinch as the supplies of flour, sugar, and coffee dwindled. Ursula had noticed that fewer and fewer people attended the opera, and she wondered how much longer it would remain viable . . . and how much longer she would remain relevant.
She turned to the dressing room mirror and evaluated her reflection, seeking any remnant of the ingenue who had graced the stage only seven years prior. The opera house had seen more changes, as the most recent director was discovered to be a mischling of the first degree. Ursula hadn’t learned this information firsthand, but rather through opera house gossip, as no one spoke openly any longer for fear of being reported.
She and Willy had dined with Hi
tler and Anna on several occasions over the last year, and Ursula had gone out of her way to ensure that she was respectful and kind. In response, Hitler had treated her with deference, often commenting on how maturity had enhanced her beauty, much like someone he’d loved very much. Ursula knew he was referring to Geli but never responded to his comments. She didn’t want to encourage his obvious infatuation, so she averted her gaze or changed the subject. She would catch Hitler watching her, staring at her mouth when she spoke, brazenly holding her gaze when she met his eyes. She had recently commented to Willy that his attention made her uncomfortable, but Willy had reminded her how fortunate she was to be valuable to the Führer, so she had remained silent.
Hitler and Anna now spent nearly every free moment together. Anna had noticed Hitler’s fascination with Ursula and had ordered her to stop flirting with him. Ursula had protested at first, explaining that the obsession was completely one-sided. But eventually she’d given up trying to reason with her sister. Anna was so taken with Hitler that she considered every other woman a threat. Like all bewitched partners, the flirtation—as Anna saw it—was never Hitler’s fault. It was much safer for Anna to blame Ursula than to confront Hitler and risk losing the man she adored.
Ursula sighed and turned her attention to the letter that sat on her makeup table. It was penned by Carl Ebert, the opera house director under whom she’d premiered. Herr Ebert was writing to request that she emigrate to England to join him at Glyndebourne, the opera house he’d been managing for the last few years. Apparently, Herr Ebert had teamed with renowned conductor Fritz Busch, another anti-Nazi émigré, and together they were finding great success and growth in the fledgling company. “The only puzzle piece that is missing, dear Ursula, is you,” the letter stated. Ursula leaned forward and spoke aloud to herself as she applied eyeliner.
“Ursula, what should you do? Go to England or remain in Germany? Well, Ursula, you do not speak the English language,” she answered herself. “And your entire life is in Germany. Everything you love is here, including Willy.” She paused as a thought struck. “Would England even accept you, you silly girl? Willy says that people in England do not like Germany’s behavior. I can’t say that I blame them. Would I be welcomed there?” Ursula drew back quickly, poking herself in the eye. “Ouch! But it’s a good question. Would I be welcomed there?”
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