The commandant appeared at the door. He paused at the threshold and stomped snow from his boots as his penetrating eyes swept the room. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, he entered and settled his gaze on Ursula.
“Fräulein Becker, how are you?”
“Cold . . . and hungry.”
Seidl cut his eyes toward her as he waggled his pointer finger and spoke loudly, ensuring everyone could hear. “To think that I have ordered extra rations for you, and this is how you repay me? With insolence? No, that will not do.”
Ursula reddened. She hadn’t known she’d been provided more food than her fellow inmates. She glanced at Ilse whose stoic expression gave away nothing.
“I wasn’t aware that you had done that, Commandant. Although I’m grateful, I respectfully request that I be given the same amount of food as the others.”
Seidl made a show of considering her appeal. “Which others, Fräulein?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Do you want the same rations as the elderly? Or the children? Or perhaps you would like the same amount of food as the Council of Jewish Elders?”
Ursula blinked.
“I see that you don’t understand. Nor do you need to, silly girl. Just know that I’m looking out for you.” He leaned in. “You should be thankful, Fräulein.” His eyes bore through her. She wondered if he actually saw her at all.
He turned suddenly to the collection of girls and clapped loudly three times. “Up! Follow me!”
Ilse and Ursula exchanged glances. The fleeting look contained their concern that Seidl might focus revenge for Ursula’s insubordination on the girls. “Where?” Ilse asked.
Seidl’s eyes hardened and he stomped toward her. “Do not question me, Jew!” he screamed into her face.
Ursula rushed over to stand by Ilse. “She didn’t mean to offend, Commandant. Please forgive her outburst.”
Seidl’s heavy breathing slowed as he continued to glare at Ilse. After a tension-filled minute, he turned his gaze to Ursula, who managed a tentative smile. She watched the muscles in his face relax. He removed his cap and smoothed his hair, then straightened his jacket and replaced his cap. In a more rational state, he turned to the girls.
“Follow me.”
The girls started to rise from the floor when a voice asked, “Where?”
Believing that it was Ilse who had spoken, Seidl whirled around and raised his right arm across his chest. Ursula saw what was happening and threw herself in front of Ilse, absorbing the blow from the back of Seidl’s right hand. The force of the impact threw her to the floor and sent the girls scrambling to the bunks.
“Mein Gott, Fräulein! Look what you made me do!” Siegfried yelled, his head shaking back and forth as he stepped backwards towards the door. “Look what you made me do! You did this! Up! Get up! All of you!” His ire was palpable as his wild eyes scanned the people in the room.
Without warning his petulant demeanor changed dramatically. Singling out Ursula, his furious eyes burned as he repeated, “You did this. You did this.” He lunged forward and grabbed her wrist, forced her to stand, then dragged her out of the room, down the stairs and out into the snowy street. Ursula remained silent and ran to keep up with his long strides as visions of being shot or hanged ran rampant through her fertile mind. She knew better than to ask where he was taking her, and she steeled herself for what was to come.
Each time she stumbled he would drag her until she managed to stand again. By the time they reached a building three blocks away from Dresden, she was out of breath and struggling to see out of her swollen eye. Seidl slowed and walked her toward the Eger River. As they neared the edge of the bridge that crossed the river, Seidl stopped, stepped behind her and grabbed her shoulders. This is the end, she thought. He’s going to shoot me and throw me in the river. She closed her eyes and pictured Willy and Otto, allowing the wonderful images to wash over her like the water rushing below her feet. Her trembling body calmed as she spoke to Otto in her mind, silently saying good-bye. Willy whispered sweetness in her ear, reminding her who she is, and urging her to maintain her dignity and composure.
After several moments of silence, however, Ursula realized that Seidl hadn’t drawn his weapon. She opened her eyes and found that she was facing a building on the other side of the bridge. The Little Fortress. He’s going to imprison me, she realized. Like Herr Abendroth, I am to be jailed. But I will not die today. “Resist. Survive,” Willy whispered in her ear. A euphoric relief shuddered through her, and she sent a silent prayer upwards.
Seidl gripped her shoulders. “Do you see that building, Fräulein?”
Before she could answer, he shook her so hard she was concerned her neck might break. His lips brushed her ear. “It’s as if you want to go there. Do you?”
Afraid to respond, Ursula remained mute.
He whipped her around to face him. “Do you?” he screamed in her face.
Ursula cringed and whispered, “No.”
“Then stop defying me! This will be your last warning!”
He shoved her away from him and raked his fingers through his hair, upending his cap, which fell to the snowy earth. “I don’t understand this hold you have on me!” He walked in circles as puffy, white snowflakes settled on his dark hair. After several moments he retrieved his cap, brushed it off, and replaced it on his head. Abruptly he turned to her and looked suddenly sad. “You came to me with special instructions.”
What does that mean? she wondered.
“I shouldn’t tell you that, lest it embolden you, but I can’t help myself. I had heard that you were a siren, but you are not. You are so much more than that. Even now . . .”
Ursula stared at the ground.
“You are so beautiful.” He walked forward slowly and gingerly touched her face. Her stomach heaved, but she stood motionless as he outlined her bruised eye. She watched him remove a glove and wondered if he would strike her again. Instead, he gently wound a lock of raven hair around his fingers before tucking it behind her ear. She closed her eyes, afraid if she didn’t, she would lash out and cause herself more physical harm. He touched her lips with his thumb before placing his forehead against hers and closing his eyes. Ursula clenched her teeth, terrified to move. She listened to his steady breathing as she considered whether it would be worse to go to the Little Fortress or be raped by the sociopath before her.
“Come.” He took her hand and turned away, but she didn’t move. Without knowing it, she had made a decision. She wouldn’t willingly let him violate her. If he was intent on doing so, then she was going to fight, to the death if necessary. She steeled herself for the altercation.
“It’s alright. I’m no longer angry.”
His abrupt emotional change startled her. “I won’t hurt you. Come.” Unsure, she reluctantly allowed herself to be led inside the building they’d passed earlier. A man stood behind a chair, his face a blank mask. Ursula recognized him as Elias, a German Jew who had been on the same transport as her. Confused, she stared at him, silently asking for an explanation. His face betrayed nothing.
“Sit,” Seidl ordered.
Ursula’s eyes flew around the small room. This building was used for laundry and occasional washing, so she couldn’t imagine what was about to happen. Until this moment she had thought that the greatest stressor in the ghetto was lack of food and medical care. But she now understood that those were simply physical challenges. It was the psychological torture that was the biggest threat. Uncertainty and unpredictability gnawed at her resolve and strength. Not only had she been stripped of her identity, but her fate was now at the whim of an emotionally unstable man. If she knew what was coming, she could prepare herself, but the volatility cultivated by the SS was the mental torment that kept her constantly on edge. As she stared at Elias, he gave her an almost imperceptible nod of assurance. That was enough to force her feet forwa
rd toward the wooden chair.
She lowered herself into the seat, and Seidl placed his hand on her shoulder. “Fräulein Becker, it has come to my attention that you have lice. Unfortunately, Elias will be shaving your head. It’s the only way to rid yourself of the vermin.”
Ursula stared straight ahead, unable to move or speak. Her mind had created so many horrible scenarios, but this had not been one of them. She struggled to reconcile the reality with what she thought might happen.
“Your loss will not be in vain, however. Your hair will be cured and combined with other human hair to create various items that will aid the Führer in growing the Reich.”
Ursula heard a click, then a buzzing sound. She felt pressure on the back of her head as Elias gently pushed her head forward and lifted a handful of her hair. The razor made contact with her scalp and sheared away long, ebony strands that fell to the floor. A mere three minutes later, Elias stepped away and disengaged the electric razor. He wound the cord around the device and left the room, all the while staring at the floor.
Ursula dug her fingernails into her palms so she wouldn’t cry. She stared at her hands, her back erect and her body trembling uncontrollably. Seidl opened a nearby drawer and removed a hand mirror. He stood in front of her and held it up, then leaned forward and lifted her chin until she was staring at her reflection.
A gaunt stranger with a swollen eye gazed back at her. Her raggedly shorn head bled from multiple cuts caused by the razor, and the tears that perched on her dark lower lashes only enhanced the depth of her brown eyes. Ursula’s imagination soared away to a safe, happy place where Willy’s hands caressed her undamaged face and swept through her long hair. His laughter echoed in her mind and, for a moment, she was transported back to her apartment in Berlin, seated at the kitchen table as she and Willy played cards with Otto.
Seidl cleared his throat, shattering her reverie. Her eyes met her broken doppelgänger in the mirror, and the tear that had sat idly on the ledge of her eyelid spilled down her pale cheek.
Seidl leaned forward and frowned, then wiped away the tear. “Perhaps now you will not be so appealing to me.”
33
Willy’s plan to join the armed forces was all but forgotten as he stared at the letter and sank into a chair.
Bridget fidgeted. “No matter what Alois says in the letter, I want you to know that I’m proud of you, William. You’re an exceptional person.”
Her strained smile gave away her anxiety. Willy felt for her as he reviewed what she’d told him about Alois. “When your father moved back to Germany, I didn’t hear from him for over a year. When I finally received a telegram in November 1919, it said that he had remarried and was expecting a child. I pointed out to him that he had married bigamously, a crime that might interest the German police. That was our last communication. I didn’t follow through on my threat because I felt embarrassed to have been abandoned.”
Willy winced as he remembered the anguish on her face as she’d spoken. But he was determined to find Ursula.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” Otto urged.
Willy’s hands shook as he tore open the envelope. The entire letter was in German, so he translated as he read aloud.
Dear Bridget,
What a surprise to receive your letter. It’s been some time since we’ve spoken.
Bridget sniffed and Willy looked up. Her lips were pinched into a small pucker.
I trust that you are well and happy. I, too, am very happy, as my son Heinz is growing up to be an extraordinary young man.
“Hah!” Bridget stood.
“Mum, please.”
“Sorry, William. But you’re exceptional too, no thanks to—” Willy threw her a pleading look. She sat again. “Go on.”
I received your letter seeking my help in finding Willy’s fiancée. You should know that Adolf wasn’t pleased with their engagement. You said that she was abducted, and that you believe Adolf was involved. Quite frankly, I find that highly unlikely. I believe you’re being emotional. That was an issue in our marriage, if I remember correctly.
Willy glanced at his mother. Her cheeks burned crimson, and her knuckles were lily white as they wrung her apron. “Shall I read silently?”
Bridget shook her head.
Additionally, my understanding is that the young woman is a Jew. You stated in your letter that she was partly a Jew, but I need to be clear on this point, Bridget. One is not partly a Jew. One is simply a Jew.
Nevertheless, in considering your request, I have recalled enough fond memories of our time together to—
Bridget jumped to her feet. “How dare he! Our time together? We were married for eight years! We’re still married, for Christ’s sake! On paper anyway.” She collapsed on the settee.
Willy looked to Otto, who shook his head.
Willy continued reading aloud but switched to German so Bridget would be spared.
I have recalled enough fond memories of our time together to help you. I will ask Adolf about the young Jew and will follow up with another letter when I can. As you know, I certainly can’t predict when that will be.
I mentioned my son earlier. He is a guard in a Polish camp, working each day for the greatness of the Reich. Perhaps that’s where the Jew was sent to work until she is no longer useful.
Willy paused and Bridget noted the silence. “What is it?”
“He says that Ursula might have been sent to a work camp in Poland.”
“Is he giving us a clue?” Otto asked.
“I’m not sure.”
“What kind of camp?” Bridget asked.
“A work camp where Jews are sent until they are no longer useful.”
“Then where do they go?”
Willy didn’t answer.
“William, where do they go?”
Otto placed his large hand over Bridget’s. “Alois will speak to his brother, Bridget. If she’s in a camp, then she may still be alive.” Otto’s desperation was heartbreaking.
“Who knows when he’ll get back to us? It might be too late, even if Uncle decides to relent.”
“Does he say anything else?” Otto asked.
Willy read the rest of the letter. “Nothing important.”
“I’m sorry, son. I did the best I could.”
Willy looked at his defeated mother. “Don’t be sorry, Mum. I appreciate how hard that was for you. Thank you.”
“Where are the Jews sent when they’re no longer useful, William?”
Willy swallowed hard and gazed evenly at Bridget. “They’re probably killed.”
“But there must be hundreds of thousands.”
“Millions, actually.”
Willy watched Bridget struggle to grasp the enormity of his words. “Ursula will be fine because of her voice.”
“But for how long, Mum?” Willy slumped in the chair and rubbed his eyes.
“When you were six years old you taught yourself to ride a bike. Do you remember, William?”
Willy looked at her with a mixture of confusion and annoyance. “What does this have to do with—”
Bridget crossed to stand in front of him. “Just listen. You fell off repeatedly, yet jumped up and remounted every time, determined to please your absent father. Despite my efforts to convince you otherwise, you believed that if you worked hard enough at being a good boy, Alois would return.” She smiled sadly at the memory and brushed some bangs away from Willy’s forehead, revealing a small scar. “You received this scar on your last bike attempt before giving up for the day.”
His fingers found the scar.
“Do you remember what happened the next day?”
Willy shook his head.
“You awakened and mastered the bike on your first effort, as if the previous day’s failures had congealed during sleep into a hard core of bike-ridi
ng knowledge.” She caressed his cheek. “You, William Patrick Hitler, are full of integrity and honor. I wish more than anything that I could take away your pain. But I can’t. Just like I couldn’t when you were that six-year-old boy waiting for his father. You dealt with that loss in your own way, by conquering the bike. And you’ll figure out a way to deal with this as well, on your own terms.”
Willy felt her words seep deeply into him, binding together into an actionable plan. Helplessness disintegrated within him, then reconvened as determination.
“I know what I must do.” He kissed Bridget’s cheek and took her hands. “Is it alright if Otto remains here while I take a trip?”
“What? Where?”
“Germany.”
“Are you daft, Willy? You can’t return to Germany!”
He smiled broadly. “I can if I’m a soldier.”
Bridget blanched and pulled her hand to her heart. “No, no, no. Please, Willy, don’t go.” She reached out and grasped his sleeve. “I lost one love to a war. I can’t lose you as well.”
Willy took her hands. “I’ve tried everything in my power to find Ursula, and nothing’s worked. Furthermore, I’m not convinced that Da will speak to Uncle Alf.” He stood quickly. “Mum, you were right. I’ve been allowing others to act on my behalf when I should have been taking action myself. For the first time since Ursula was taken, I have a purpose. I no longer have to sit idly by while I wait for a miracle.”
Her terrified eyes searched his face. “I don’t understand.”
“I’m going to enlist in Britain’s armed forces to fight Uncle Alf and his Nazis. Once he’s defeated, I’ll return home with Ursula on my arm.”
He spoke with the brash confidence of a young man who is hopelessly in love, and who’s not yet lived long enough to appreciate the fickleness with which fate can hand down punishment. As Bridget observed the strong, confident young man standing proudly before her, she knew, without a doubt, that her words no longer mattered.
Swan Song Page 24