Swan Song

by Elizabeth B. Splaine

  Ursula blinked. “Willy is coming to the Berghof with us?”

  Anna stopped at the door and turned. “Yes. It was his idea that you sing this weekend. See you there.”

  Anna exited the apartment without closing the door behind her. Ursula stood, closed the door, then crossed to the window to see Anna enter a Mercedes Benz 770 convertible decorated in Nazi regalia. Onlookers gaped at the monstrosity, unused to seeing such opulence in their practical lives. The swastika flags waved proudly on either side of the doors, and Ursula felt her stomach tighten as she realized that she might be forced to ride in such a vehicle.

  A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. Otto answered it and smiled broadly. “Willy, so good to see you.” Willy entered to find Ursula glaring at him, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

  “I understand that it was your idea that I sing this weekend at your uncle’s mountain retreat.”

  “Listen, Ursula, I just thought—”

  Ursula held her palm toward him. “Willy, I have not expressly stated my feelings on this matter, so let me do it now. My voice is mine. Not yours. It is a gift that I was bestowed, and I use it as I see fit. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “No buts, Willy. I need to know that you respect my wishes.”

  Willy nodded. “I understand. Now may I say something?”

  “Of course.”

  “I was hoping that you might have a chance to get to know my uncle a little better this weekend.”

  “I have no desire to know your uncle better.”

  “That might be a problem.”

  The hairs on Ursula’s arm became taut and a chill ran up her spine. “Why?”

  “Because he’s asked me to officially join the Nazi party as an officer. Of course, as my betrothed, you would become a member as well.”

  Otto’s hand flew to his mouth and he excused himself from the room. Ursula’s eyes followed her father as she processed what Willy had said.

  Willy took the opportunity to press his case. “Before you say anything, can you please pack your bag? We need to be at the Berghof by four p.m. and—”

  “It will take a lot longer than that to drive to Berchtesgaden.”

  “No. My uncle has a plane waiting for us.”

  Ursula gaped at him. “Willy, this is too much. I can’t process it so quickly.”

  He approached her and took her face in his hands. “I know, my love. I know it’s a lot, but I have two questions for you. Do you love me?”

  Ursula glared at him as her anger wrestled with her strong love for him. “You know I do.”

  “Do you trust me?”

  Ursula paused. She trusted Willy implicitly. Or thought she did. Until now. “Do you?” he repeated, his eyes more sincere and intense than she’d ever seen them.

  She took a deep breath. “Yes.”

  “Then pack your bag and let’s go. Bring a gown for this evening.”

  Ursula stared at him a moment longer, then dashed into her bedroom and packed a light wool jumper and a white, collared shirt. She added some stockings and a pair of low-heeled black shoes that buttoned on the side, as well as her pink, cotton pajamas, and her makeup bag and toiletries. Finally, she opened her wardrobe and perused her collection of recital gowns. She removed a blood-red silk, strapless dress and held it in front of her while looking in the mirror. The gown highlighted her delicate bone structure. She lifted her chin and smiled confidently. “Yes. This is definitely the correct choice.” She placed some matching red high heels in the bag and exited her bedroom to find her father sitting at the kitchen table speaking quietly with Willy. Otto glanced in her direction, then patted Willy’s hand and stood.

  “What are the two of you discussing?”

  In response, Otto approached, hugged her, and kissed the top of her head. He spoke quietly but quickly in her ear. “Listen to what Willy has to say, Ursula. Do not dismiss him out of hand.”

  She withdrew from her father and searched his tired eyes. She had neither the time nor the energy to question him further. After a beat, she nodded. “Alright, Papa. I promise.”

  Willy took Ursula’s bag, and they exited the apartment and descended the stairs. After they were settled in the royal blue Opel Olympia that had been a gift from the Führer upon Willy’s arrival in Germany, Willy started the engine and cleared his throat.

  “I would like to tell you how we’ve come to this point with my uncle.”

  Ursula stared straight ahead as the streets of Berlin whizzed by. She noted that the sea of black Nazi uniforms seemed to have multiplied in the last few weeks. Where are all of the regular people? she wondered. Maybe the Nazis are the regular people now. Without looking at him, she stated, “We have not come to this point, Willy. You have come to this point.”

  Willy sighed. “What I mean to say is this. Six months ago, my uncle asked me to join the Party and I politely declined. Two months ago, I asked him for a promotion, and I was transferred from the bank to the automotive factory.”

  “I wondered how you came by that position but never asked,” Ursula quipped as she watched an SS soldier drag a child by his hair. The boy’s body was slack, and Ursula wondered if he’d been killed by the soldier or whether the soldier was simply clearing the street.

  “After being in my new position for a little while, my uncle approached me again and asked me to join. I politely declined, and he informed me that my continued success and advancement was contingent on joining. So, I must join.”

  Ursula was silent for the rest of the journey. She had done what her father asked. She had listened to Willy. But that didn’t mean she had to respond.

  Willy pulled into the parking area of the airstrip and Ursula blanched as a large plane landed. A massive red and black swastika glared from the tail. Its grandeur drew the eye, causing her to rethink boarding the plane. Her gaze then traveled the length of the aircraft, stopping when she saw a machine gun turret. She closed her eyes and pictured her father. She had made a promise to him that she would go. She had to uphold it. After the plane taxied to a stop, a set of stairs was wheeled over and placed against the door, which opened quickly.

  Willy glanced at his watch. “Leave it to Uncle Alf to ensure that his plane lands exactly on time. Ever efficient,” he muttered.

  Ursula turned to face him. “His personal plane?”

  Willy nodded. “He wanted you to feel welcome.”

  A sudden, irrepressible urge to run away took hold of her. “Willy, let’s not get on this plane. I believe in you! You don’t need your uncle’s approval or advancements to be successful. You can do it on your own.”

  Willy shook his head. “Ursula, you’re one of the smartest girls I’ve ever known. Yet you seem to have a blind spot when it comes to Adolf Hitler. He’s ruling Germany with an iron fist, and I’ve heard his discussions with Himmler, Goebbels, Goering, and Hess. He aims to rule all of Europe, Britain, and America. If he allows me to be successful, I will be. But if he decides to stand in my way, to block my advancement, then I will be left with nothing. Do you understand?”

  Ursula had stopped listening. Her head felt stuffed, as if her brain had ingested too much information and couldn’t move. “But still, I’m sure that there are positions that you can attain—”

  Willy took her left hand and shook it. “Ursula, look at me! We must do this if we want to survive, especially given your circumstances.”

  Ursula slowly turned toward him and pulled her hand away. Like droplets of water rolling off a raincoat, she felt her anger drain away. An unsettling calm nestled into her core. “My circumstances? A minute ago, they were our circumstances. You’ve finally spoken the truth. The inevitable Jewish connection. How long will this be held over my head? Forever?”

  Willy sighed heavily. “We must board the plane, Ursula.”

  Ursula loo
ked past him at a steward who stood at the top of the stairs. “Life is full of choices, Willy, even when we feel like there’s not a choice to be made.”

  Willy stared at her long enough that she finally met his deep blue eyes. In them she saw two things she’d never seen before—fatigue and defeat. She had always felt safe and protected in Willy’s presence. But now, for the first time, she felt fear and uncertainty stalking her. Her heart softened.

  Willy looked at his hands and sighed deeply. “Alright. So, let me tell you a choice presented to me by my uncle, Ursula. Either you and I join the Nazi party, or you and your father become expendable.”

  15

  Ursula climbed the stairs, where she was greeted by the uniformed steward. She paused at the entrance and glanced to her left. The steward followed her stare and smiled. “That’s the Führer’s cabin, Fräulein. Guests go this way.” He ushered her into the back of the plane, where she found a well-appointed space that looked more like a small living room than a plane cabin. Thick curtains covered each window, and a dark, lush carpet dulled their footfalls. As Willy placed their belongings in the storage area, Ursula noted the seating layout. Two loveseats faced each other, separated by a stained oak table. Across the narrow aisle were two more chairs that faced each other, also separated by a table. Once Willy and Ursula were seated in one of the loveseats, another steward appeared and asked if they’d care for some refreshment. They both declined, and the steward vanished.

  “Is it going to be just you and me on this large plane, Willy?”

  As if answering her question, two women appeared in the cabin’s doorway. The younger of the two smiled openly and nodded in acknowledgment. The other glowered and then dismissed them before seating herself across from her companion. The older woman’s entire demeanor spoke of negativity, and Ursula decided that she didn’t care for her. The steward materialized and placed a drink in front of each woman. That fact, along with the manner in which they carried themselves, made Ursula believe that they were accustomed to traveling on Hitler’s private plane.

  The massive engines roared to life, effectively ending all possibility of communication for the duration of the flight. Having never flown before, Ursula thought she might be nervous. But the adrenaline coursing through her veins overrode any nerves, and she found herself awed by the feeling of the wheels leaving the ground. She leaned back into the plaid, cushioned seat and lay her head on the pristine, white pillow. As the metal bird soared into the sky and leveled out at thirty-two-thousand feet, the sense of weightlessness and the drone of the engines lulled her into a fitful slumber.

  Otto was being hauled away by three soldiers. He repeatedly screamed her name, and when she tried to yell out to him, she found that her voice had been stolen. She clawed at her throat in a vain attempt to retrieve it and turned to find the Führer standing next to her, holding a small golden box in his hand. His smug smile revolted her, and she realized that he was in possession of her voice box. She was mute. Powerless.

  The plane landed with a hard thwump, and Ursula was jolted awake. The dream left her feeling despondent, caught between impossible choices: join the Nazi party and become complicit in the horrors it continued to inflict, or decline and never see Willy again. She pictured herself wearing the Party uniform that signified loyalty to the Reich. The vision left her nauseous. Then she shuddered as she remembered Otto’s terror in her dream, so she closed her eyes and focused on her breath. She calmed her heart rate and tried to be logical.

  On some level she had always understood that she’d eventually have to make a choice. She couldn’t live as a mischling in an Aryan-dominated world forever. The choice, as unpalatable as it seemed, was becoming clear. Her eyes flew open. For the sake of her father, she would cast aside her ethical code. She would become Aryan and join the Party. Her lip curled as she realized that the decision had been made long before she’d even begun to argue it in her mind. Willy knew it, and so did Otto. That’s why he had asked her to consider what Willy had to say. Otto knew that when presented with facts, eventually Ursula would make the safe choice. But safe for whom? Not for the Jews, she thought. I’m one more sheep in a sea of decadent, amoral hypocrites. How fast and far I have fallen. Was it only a year ago I refused Willy’s offer to become Aryan? She shook her head as she remembered how she had clearly stated, from high atop her horse, that her conscience wouldn’t allow such a travesty. So many thoughts swirled, and she couldn’t pin them down. Or didn’t want to.

  She glanced out the window to see an impossibly tall granite mountain that reached into the clouds. Evergreens graced its lower two thirds, while the top was anointed with pure white snow. Her mind flitted back to the haunting dream, and the resolve she’d recently fostered continued to build. She’d made a decision. To turn back now might cause doubt. And doubt was dangerous. She turned to Willy and took his hand while her brain fully accepted the consequences of her decision. They sat like that until the engines powered down. Once she could be heard, she said, “Please forgive me, Willy. I know we’re living in extraordinary times, so I must make decisions that I normally wouldn’t make. For the sake of my family, and for you.”

  A wave of shock swept over Willy’s features, and for a moment she hesitated. He thought I’d choose differently. Have I made the wrong choice? He leaned over and kissed her. “I know that wasn’t an easy decision, Ursula. I’m grateful that you made the logical choice. You don’t have to believe. You just need to . . .” His words trailed away when he noted the strained look on her face. “Thank you,” he whispered.

  Ursula turned toward the window, afraid Willy would see the truth. If she were completely honest, she felt as if a weight had been lifted. How cheaply your ethics were sold, a voice whispered. Is this the new currency? Your soul in exchange for survival? Your conscience for food? Seeing Willy’s happiness and knowing that her family would be protected did little to dull the culpability she felt at having sacrificed her morality. She shook her head to clear it of the venomous self-doubt as Hitler’s personal pilot, Hans Baur, entered the main cabin.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, please gather your belongings and exit the plane via the stairs. There is a car waiting to escort you to the Berghof.” Ursula stood and accidentally bumped into the angry woman, who pushed past her and exited the plane. Willy smiled at Ursula in encouragement and motioned for her to exit before him. A cool breeze greeted her as she evaluated the steep stairs, and she paused a moment to breathe the most refreshing air she could remember.

  One of the stewards glanced at her and then looked away as he stood at attention.

  “Fräulein, may I assist you? These steps are very steep.”

  Ursula lifted her chin. “No, thank you. I can manage.” She took one step and stumbled. The steward materialized and caught her in his arms. Ursula cleared her throat and quickly righted herself.

  “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure, Fräulein. Now . . . may I assist you?”

  Ursula pursed her lips but acquiesced. As she placed her gloved hand in his, he stole a peek at her and smiled ever so slightly. “I am a fan, Fräulein. You appear . . . like your voice. Exquisite.” His large brown eyes exuded warmth as they searched her face. He’s no older than eighteen. In many ways still a child, yet he works for a madman, she thought. Then her stomach clenched as her mind returned to her recent decision. I, too, will be working for a madman.

  She glanced at the SS insignia on his collar, then held his eyes for a moment, trying to rationalize the juxtaposition between his kindness and the uniform he was wearing. She wondered whether he truly believed the Nazi propaganda or whether he was simply trying to survive. It doesn’t matter. He is a cog in the Nazi war machine, the voice whispered. Just like you’ll be soon, it finished viciously.

  “Thank you,” she finally managed.

  “Everything alright here?” Willy asked as he looked from Ursula to the steward. Ursula nodded and t
ransferred her hand to Willy.

  “Yes, sir. Heil Hitler!” the young man replied, his right arm outstretched in the perfunctory salute. Any warmth Ursula had perceived vanished as he morphed into the efficient automaton Hitler demanded. Willy tilted his head at Ursula, silently asking if she was alright. She nodded in return and fell into step with him as they descended the stairs. A car awaited them and, as she had feared, the large automobile was adorned with Nazi regalia. Her hands trembled, and the word hypocrite repeated continuously in her mind as she settled into the soft brown, buttery leather seats.

  The two women from the plane now sat facing Willy and her. The friendly woman was about Ursula’s age with a stylish pixie cut and a large nose. She openly evaluated Ursula and grinned when they made eye contact. The cranky, older woman simply stared out the window, a permanent frown etched into the corners of her ample mouth.

  “Relax, my darling,” Willy muttered.

  Ursula looked deeply into his eyes, unable to express the dread that sat like a stone in her stomach as it spurted acid into her throat. Willy saw her anguish and squeezed her hand, the only solace he could offer in current company.

  The younger woman cleared her throat. “Hello, Fräulein Becker. My name is Christa Schroeder. I think you are an exceptional singer. My mother was an opera singer, not to your caliber, of course, but she was wonderful.”

  Ursula smiled. “Thank you, Fräulein Schroeder. Where did your mother perform?”

  “She sang in Berlin and Munich but stopped, of course, when I was born.”

  Ursula tilted her head. “Why do you say that she stopped, of course, when you were born?”

  “Because a woman’s role is in the home with her children. The Führer insists upon it. All women are the mothers of Germany.”

  Ursula opened her mouth to respond but Willy squeezed her hand. She cut her eyes toward him, then smiled sweetly. “Are you married, Fräulein Schroeder?”

  The young woman chuckled. “Oh, my goodness, no. If I were to marry, then I could no longer work for the Führer.”