Swan Song

by Elizabeth B. Splaine

  Willy wasn’t sure if he heard a sniffle on the other end of the line, or whether it was simply static.

  “Just give Uncle Alf the message, alright? Anna?”

  A harsh buzz came across the line. She had already disconnected.

  27

  Several hours later Ursula awakened when her head collided with the window. “Ouch!”

  Marika winced. “Oh, Ursula, you poor thing. You fell asleep again after we spoke. But look! The train is slowing down.”

  Ursula rubbed her eyes, careful not to jostle her damaged nose, then pressed her forehead against the glass. Outside she saw a small gray building with a dilapidated roof. In front of the small structure stood a tall, dark-haired SS officer with a long, sharp nose and eyebrows that formed a shelf above his glacial blue eyes. His gaze met hers, then moved past as he stood perfectly still, hands clasped behind his back. He reminded her of an eagle appraising the most efficient way to attack its prey. She shuddered involuntarily.

  As the train slowed, he jumped aboard and walked slowly down the aisle, openly examining the mute travelers who had long ago learned to stare at their feet when in the presence of Nazi officers. Ursula stole a glance and her pulse quickened. The tall officer stood ramrod straight and puffed out his chest, proudly exhibiting the swastikas on his crisp uniform as his black boots landed heavily with each step. He would nod intermittently or utter an indistinguishable sound, and Marika and Ursula would exchange worried glances. Ursula listened as he reached the end of the car, his thick leather boots squeaking as he turned. He returned along the length of the car, back toward the open door through which fresh air rushed, then turned quickly and announced in a clipped baritone voice, “I am seeking Ursula Becker. She was to be on this transport. Yet she is not here. Has anyone seen or spoken to Ursula Becker?”

  Before Ursula could react, a man several rows behind her spoke. “Do you mean the opera singer?”

  The SS guard smiled, his white, straight teeth dramatically altering his visage. His tone become jovial, and he seemed kind and youthful. It wasn’t difficult to see who he might have been prior to coming under Hitler’s evil spell. “Yes. That Ursula Becker.”

  A boy no older than sixteen answered. “We would know if we had seen such a beautiful creature, sir. We are not fools.”

  Ursula cringed. Flippant words from an ignorant child could get them all killed. She noted tension etched in passengers’ faces as they awaited the officer’s reaction. To everyone’s relief, he smiled and nodded. “You’re not fools.” Ursula felt her shoulders relax. “But you are Jews. What is your name?” he asked the boy.

  “Markus Appel.” The boy’s tone was relaxed. He’s either stupid or has been shielded from Nazi horror, Ursula thought.

  Her jaw clenched. She wanted to look away but couldn’t, drawn by irrepressible human curiosity. The officer had accepted the insubordinate comment too easily. She held her breath as he sauntered toward Markus, then leaned toward the boy. “She is beautiful, is she not?”

  Do something! Ursula’s mind screamed. She started to raise her hand, but Marika grabbed it and forced it back to her lap. Marika shook her head almost imperceptibly as her eyes commanded silence. Ursula struggled against her grip, but the older woman was stronger than she appeared.

  Markus’ boyish audacity smothered good sense. “Yes, she is, sir.”

  With her hands pinned against her lap, Ursula opened her mouth to speak. Marika hissed, “Don’t make a sound! Let’s see the guard’s intentions before you make your identity known.”

  “Why?” Ursula whispered. “The boy might—” Marika’s blazing eyes held hers as she shook her head again. Do. Not. Speak, she mouthed. The knuckles of her trembling hands had turned snowy white.

  “Tell me, Markus. If you were to meet Fräulein Becker, what would you say to her?”

  The sixteen-year-old looked around, suddenly embarrassed. “Um, I suppose that I would say—”

  Bang! Screams erupted, and she looked up to find Markus’ body slumped against the seat, a small hole in the center of his forehead. Somehow the officer had drawn his gun and fired, all in the span of a breath. Another SS guard appeared and held the car’s door shut from the outside as terrified passengers scrambled over seats and each other in an effort to escape the mayhem. The crowd piled against the door trying to force it open, but there was nowhere to go. A stunned Ursula stood and glared at the guard while Marika sat stoically, her arms wrapped tightly around her embroidered bag, her eyes riveted to the floor.

  The officer observed the chaos with irritation. Ten seconds after firing the fatal shot, he holstered his gun. “Silence!” In response, the crowd quieted somewhat, then stilled as they noticed that he no longer brandished his weapon. He motioned for them to return to their seats, but no one moved. Placing his right hand on his gun, he yelled, “Sit, Jews! Sit! Unless you want someone else to die today!” Reluctantly they returned to their seats, all of them clutching their few belongings as they stared at the eagle watching them. His back was to Ursula as he spoke calmly and evenly, the tone of a schoolteacher admonishing his class. “That unpleasantness could have been avoided. Now, I ask again, where is Ursula Becker?”

  “I am Ursula Becker.”

  The guard’s head swiveled quickly. Starting at her feet, his eyes scanned the length of her body, taking in her disheveled clothes, her rat’s nest of tangled hair, and her ravaged face with its blood-caked, crooked nose and black eyes. “But of course you are!” He threw his head back and roared with laughter. Ursula marshaled her inner diva and drew herself up to her full height. He took note of the change. “Sit down. You are not the person I seek.”

  Ursula stood her ground, then took a step forward, determined to avoid another calamity. Without warning he rushed forward, simultaneously removing his revolver. He moved so quickly that she had no time to react before she felt pressure against her forehead. “I should shoot you for lying.”

  Ursula didn’t blink or move. Her hands balled into fists. Her anger replaced her pain and public humiliation . . . and logic. Similar to Markus, she spoke without considering the repercussions. “Do it. But know that you would be shooting Ursula Becker.”

  They stared at each other while the guard attempted to see through her injuries. Over a very long minute, Ursula watched realization dawn in his eyes. He slowly lowered his weapon and nodded. “It is you. I was not informed that you had been . . . that you were . . . I was only told that you’d be on this transport.”

  Ursula quietly blew out the breath she’d been holding when, to her complete astonishment, the guard bowed slightly and offered his beautiful smile. “It is truly my pleasure to make your acquaintance, Fräulein Becker. I was lucky enough to see one of your performances several years ago and was astounded at your depth of character, not to mention your breathtaking voice.”

  Once again, Ursula found herself at a loss for words as she contemplated the duplicity of the human spirit. This child killer had turned on a dime and spoken passionately about the pure beauty of art. It was astounding and rendered her speechless. She found herself wondering about Nazism. Is it a way of life? Does a person wedge it into his soul, where it festers? Or is it simply a coat one dons that anesthetizes the wearer against the burdensome weight of a conscience? She glanced at Marika, whose pleading eyes spoke for everyone in the train car. Make this better for us, they begged. Or, if you can’t make it better, please don’t make it worse.

  Still staring at the guard, she said, “Thank you, Herr . . .”

  “Seidl. Siegfried Seidl. It is my honor.” He bowed deeply this time, holding the revolver against his chest as he leaned forward. When he rose, his face had morphed into stone. He turned away from her to face the car’s occupants. “Disembark! Take all of your belongings with you. Upon exiting the train, queue up, and place your bags in front of you. Do not speak unless spoken to. Is that clear?”
/>   Ursula glanced at the frightened passengers, who nodded in unison. Seidl turned back to her and smiled. He leaned toward her and whispered, “I know that you are Jewish, but I find myself wanting to pretend that you are not.”

  Ursula stared at the floor, not wanting to cause any more trouble. She remained silent as passengers filed past, throwing various looks her way—anger, jealousy, disgust, sympathy. When the car was empty, Seidl’s large blue eyes took on a look of deep concern. “They really hurt you. The men on the ship.”

  Ursula looked away. He knows about the men on the ship. “I’m fine.”

  Seidl cupped her face in his left hand. “Let us see the doctor about your nose. Perhaps he can straighten it, at the very least. You must be in a lot of pain.”

  Ursula quickly shook her head, the effort causing her to lose her balance. She fell against Seidl but immediately pulled away. “I’m fine.”

  “Where are your bags?” Seidl examined the area where Ursula had been sitting.

  Ursula arched a brow and immediately regretted it as pain shot through her swollen eye. “The men who attacked me didn’t allow me time to pack a bag.”

  Seidl acknowledged her sarcastic comment with a half smile. “I had been warned that you are a lot to handle, but you should know, Fräulein Becker, that I want your stay in Terezín to be a good one. You could have been sent elsewhere. You’ve been given a gift by being sent here instead of Birkenau, for example. Plus, there are several other musicians already in the ghetto, and I know more will be arriving in the coming weeks.” He became suddenly serious. “But your happiness depends on how well you obey the rules. You saw what happened when the boy spoke out of turn, so please pay attention and don’t take risks, especially with other people’s lives.”

  Ursula’s eyes filled with tears at the reminder of her role in Markus Appel’s death. She glanced at his young body, slumped against the seat, a perfectly round hole in the center of his smooth forehead. A blond cowlick sprouted atop the wound, as if the force of the impact had blown the boy’s hair aloft. A lone drop of blood creeped slowly toward his vacant green eyes as they stared past her. His mouth lay slack and open. You did this, he whispered in her mind.

  “Did you hear me? Do you understand?”

  Ursula found herself nodding dumbly, realizing that she had crossed the invisible line from physical freedom to prisoner. When the Nazis had imposed increasingly strict sanctions on the Jews in Berlin, she had felt stifled and cheated out of what should have rightfully been hers. But this was a different matter altogether.

  “Good. I was also told that you are extremely bright. I see that to be true.”

  A guard stepped onto the train and saluted. “Heil Hitler, Commandant!”

  “Heil Hitler. Clean up this mess,” Seidl said, waving dismissively towards Markus’ body.

  “Right away, sir!” The young man vanished.

  “So, you are in charge here?” Ursula asked.

  “I am.”

  Ursula glanced out the window at the mass of people awaiting instructions.

  “What is this place?”

  “This is our last stop before Theresienstadt, or Terezín for short. It is a spa town.”

  Before she could stop herself, Ursula rolled her eyes. Seidl caught the gesture and shook his head. She dropped her gaze. “That is exactly what you must avoid, Fräulein, if you want to remain happy here.”

  “Forgive me. I’m tired.”

  “As I was saying, Terezín is home to a number of older Czech Jews and German Jews who served their country with honor in the Great War. We also offer respite to Jews who hold artistic places of honor in the Reich, such as yourself.”

  “Artistic places of honor?”

  “Yes. In addition to you, we house several musicians and artists. Viktor Ullmann, Bedrich Fritta, Leo Haas. There are more, but that should give you an idea of the company you will be keeping. Shall we?” Commandant Seidl stepped aside and swept his arm forward, indicating Ursula should exit the train.

  Lifting her chin, she folded her arms across her chest and climbed down the four steps onto the packed earth. She was still dressed in the outfit she’d been wearing when she was kidnapped. The air had changed dramatically during their long voyage. The sun was setting and with it came a wind that seeped through her thin dress. Within seconds she was shivering.

  Seidl took no notice as he stood in front of the crowd.

  “You will walk the rest of the way. Take only what you can carry for two and a half kilometers.”

  Sharp intakes of breath were followed by murmurs. Clearly the travelers hadn’t been informed of the long trek ahead of time.

  “Forgive me, sir,” an elderly man said, “but I cannot walk that far, and certainly not with my suitcase.”

  Seidl shook his head. “You will walk that far or die along the way. It comes down to how much you value your life. As for carrying your belongings, that is your decision.”

  Another woman spoke. “We had been told that our luggage would be sent from our homes. If I leave my suitcase here, will it arrive later as well?”

  Seidl smiled. “Absolutely.”

  The woman nodded. Ursula wondered how she could believe a man who belittled them as he spoke, a man who had just murdered a boy in cold blood. She also wondered if the woman’s suitcase contained an overcoat that she might borrow for their walk.

  Seidl winked at Ursula, then turned to the crowd. “Everyone form a queue and start walking. Anyone who falls behind will be shot.”

  28

  Ursula took her place at the end of the line.

  “No, Fräulein, you will drive with me. My car is there.” Seidl pointed to a black sedan with Nazi flags on the front fenders.

  The crowd turned to her and she blushed, embarrassed to be singled out for special treatment. “Thank you, but I prefer to walk.”

  He closed the distance between them in three strides. His face was impassive, but his eyes burned. She wondered if he was going to strike her. She forced a smile and spoke earnestly. “If you would graciously permit me to walk.”

  He held her eyes, gauging her sincerity. His consternation, which had spiked so rapidly, abated just as quickly. “I will allow it.” He turned and marched to his car while the stunned crowd started the long walk.

  One kilometer into their trek the sun gave up and fell behind the horizon, throwing shadows on ash trees that lined the narrow dirt road. If it weren’t for the chill and Ursula’s blistered feet, she might have been able to better enjoy the serene beauty of the stark landscape. The budding limbs of deciduous trees jutted from their trunks at complicated angles and appeared to Ursula as exquisite pieces of art yet to be captured on canvas. Such had her brain decided to attend to the current situation, heretofore simply unimaginable, in order to maintain some semblance of normalcy and order. “Find beauty in chaos,” her mother had instructed when she was stymied by a particularly challenging piece of music. And this, Ursula thought as she evaluated the bedraggled walking group, is chaos.

  Early into their walk, Ursula had offered to carry a woman’s luggage in return for borrowing an overcoat. She had flatly denied Ursula’s request. Marika had come to the rescue and had negotiated with the woman on Ursula’s behalf. In exchange for the coat, Marika had offered a knitted scarf. The woman had begrudgingly agreed but remained close to Ursula throughout the journey, perhaps afraid that she would abscond with her jacket.

  Ursula turned up the collar and pulled the coat tighter as she evaluated the confined path on which they walked. The road, if one could call it that, was wide enough for only one car to travel, leading her to believe that it had originally been a horse path. The forest on either side was vast, but the trees were diffuse, thereby disallowing any thought of escape and concealment.

  Besides, she had no idea where they were and no way to return to Hamburg. Even if
she were successful in returning, Willy and Otto were on a ship to England and may not even realize that she’s missing. Ursula’s heart galloped as she imagined her father’s concern for her safety. She briefly closed her eyes and sent him a mental message that she was alive.

  A conversation between two prisoners discussing the history of their destination caught her attention. She opened her eyes and decided to focus on the two men. The more she knew in advance of their arrival, the better. Plus, distraction was a blessing when one felt powerless.

  “In the late eighteenth century, a fortress named Theresienstadt was constructed that ended up being used as a prison in the Great War. After the war, a town called Terezín sprouted within the fort’s walls in which ethnic Germans and Czechs successfully cohabitated. But when the Great Depression occurred and German rhetoric became more patriotic, some Germans wanted Terezín returned to Germany. When Terezín and its surrounding land came under German rule once more in the Munich Agreement, ethnic Germans wasted no time in welcoming the Nazis. Even after the Nazi invasion, however, German-speaking Czechs continued to live in Terezín, thereby furthering the rumors that living there would be enjoyable.”

  “So, we will be safe?” a woman asked the historian.

  “We should be. I understand there are many Jews from the Protectorate of Bohemia and Moravia already living there, people of considerable means who live in housing commensurate to what they left behind. Otherwise, why would the Nazis have asked us for so much money in advance?”

  Ursula shook her head, angered by the desperation that had caused rational, reasonable people to abandon their homes and offer their life savings in a hopeless quid pro quo for their lives. She didn’t fault them. Just the opposite. She applauded their pluckiness. What infuriated her is she knew that their efforts would probably be fruitless. What sickened her was the power that Hitler held over people whose only crime was having been born into a Jewish family.