Addi turned quickly. “You see, Ursula? I knew it! This is all leading to our release! They’re preparing us to rejoin the outside world once again.”
Ursula squinted in thought. “What did they say when they gave each of the children a coin?”
“Commandant Rahm told them to spend their money at the toy store or the candy store. Of course, they chose the candy store and loaded up on sweets. Now they’re coming to rehearsal. Hence, the extra energy.” He smiled broadly.
As if on cue the door burst open and the horde of children stomped up to the attic, chatting and laughing. Their colorful new clothes matched the red in their cheeks, a result of playing outside in the warm sunshine. They dropped to the floor and settled down, eventually all turning their bright eyes toward Ursula. She had never seen the group so content and didn’t want to spoil their mood. Yet the recent changes in the camp left her with a growing discomfort. She wanted to urge them to enjoy their current circumstances but maintain a sense of caution in case the kindnesses dried up.
“We’re going to do something different today at rehearsal. I want you to tell me the story of Brundibár.”
Confused glances flew around the room.
“I know that we’ve sung through the story many times, but who can tell me the story?” Ursula urged.
A boy of no more than nine years stood. “I can tell you, Fräulein.”
Ursula smiled. “Please remind me of your name.”
“Fritz.” Ursula’s smile froze as she recalled her friend who had died in the snow. “Go on, Fritz.”
The boy twisted his hands and shifted his weight. “Well, the story is about a brother and sister who go to the market to buy milk for their ill mother. But they have no money. So, they raise money for the milk by singing in the street, much like Brundibár, the old, mean organ grinder. But he is loud, and their two small voices can’t be heard, so they make no money and are chased away by the evil bully. The next morning, they make a plan to become louder by joining forces with some other children, a cat, a sparrow, and a dog. The new, larger chorus is louder than Brundibár, and the children make enough money to buy milk for their mother.”
Ursula was impressed at Fritz’s summary. “Well done. You’ll become a fine teacher one day. Perhaps a music teacher.” Ursula winked, and Fritz sat, his cheeks flushing crimson. She felt a surge of joy at witnessing such camaraderie and fleetingly wondered if she might become a music teacher after rejoining Willy. She realized with trepidation and sadness that it was the first time she’d thought seriously of life after the ghetto. Until this moment she’d been focused on living only one day at a time. Hope can be dangerous, she reminded herself. Stay the course.
“Fritz summarized the story of Brundibár. Now I want someone to tell me the lesson that lies within the story.”
Blank stares greeted her, and Addi stifled a laugh. A hand crept into the air. “Are we going to sing today, Fräulein?”
Ursula smiled patiently. “Not today. Who can tell me the lesson, the very important life lesson that Brundibár teaches us?” Her eyes swept the room. She made eye contact with every member of the cast. When no one offered a response, she said, “The story of Brundibár is one of perseverance and teamwork. The group is always stronger than the individual. Always. When a situation seems hopeless, one need only seek out a group of like-minded people in order to defeat a bully like Brundibár or—”
“Ursula!” Addi interrupted. “I think the children understand your point. If we work together, we can fight injustice.” Addi’s eyes held an unspoken warning. One never knew when evil ears were listening.
“Can we though?” A young man stood. Ursula had noticed him, not only because of his beautiful tenor voice, but also because he was a natural leader. He reminded her of a young Willy. He addressed Addi. “This children’s opera is all well and good, but our reality is different, isn’t it? There are so many of us in this camp, like-minded people, as Fräulein Ursula said. Yet we don’t fight the injustices we experience every day.”
Small heads turned in unison from the young man to Ursula. The younger children didn’t know exactly what was happening, but they appreciated that the tone of the meeting had shifted.
Ursula stepped forward. “You make my point for me. What’s your name?”
“Petr Ginz.”
“Petr, the fact that we are here, that we exist at all, flies directly in the face of—” She paused and glanced at Addi, who shot a warning with her eyes. “Those who would rather we not exist at all,” Ursula finished. “It’s quite remarkable that we have the chance to perform Brundibár, whose underlying lesson cannot be extinguished or ignored, but rather points to the precise situation in which we find ourselves. I want to ensure that we harness this opportunity.”
Someone cleared his throat, and all eyes swiveled. In the heat of discussion no one had noticed that Commandant Rahm had quietly entered the building and climbed the stairs. The camp improvements had begun under his leadership, so many people viewed him as fair and kind. But through Addi’s conversations with Edvard Svoboda, Ursula had learned that Rahm was anything but kind. To that end, she had steered clear of direct interactions with him.
“Don’t mind me,” he muttered. “I’m a fly on the wall.” He walked toward Ursula and stopped directly in front of her. “And to think I was looking forward to hearing the children’s melodious voices.”
Ursula lifted her chin and held his steady gaze.
“We were just about to sing,” Hans Krása interjected. Rahm held up his palm toward Krása, silencing him. The tension hung heavy as the children waited for direction. Rahm glared at Ursula as he towered over her, his breath rustling her hair as he exhaled. “You and I have not been acquainted yet, Fräulein, but the former commandants told me all about you. Let me just say that your reputation precedes you.” His dark eyes bored into hers, and although she tried, she couldn’t hold his gaze. Her cheeks burned with insinuation. She was grateful that the innuendo seemed beyond most of the children’s awareness. But not Addi, whose eyes betrayed her understanding.
He turned from her and faced the cast. “Did you know, children, that Fräulein Becker was an opera star in Berlin?” Murmurs waved through the group. “Yes, she was quite something. But now look at her . . .”
He turned to face her. She pictured the scar under her eye that sat aside her misshapen nose, and her unruly, uneven hair. A look of distaste crossed his features. “How far your star has fallen. What Commandant Seidl saw in you I will never understand.”
At the mention of Seidl’s name Ursula forced herself to stare into Rahm’s dead eyes. They reminded her of pictures she’d seen of sharks. Dark, cold wells devoid of feeling or soul.
He wheeled around and clapped his hands. “Good news, children. Your debut will be held exactly two weeks from today when the International Red Cross comes to visit. Many important people will be in attendance, maybe even the Führer. Over the next two weeks you’ll be instructed on what to say and how to act. It’s imperative that you follow directions. We want the international community to understand how well you’re being treated. Tell me, children, are your stomachs full?”
“Yes,” they called out.
“Did everyone enjoy some candy?”
“Yes!”
“And how about the rousing game of tag in the sunshine?”
“Yay!” The children laughed.
He clapped his hands. “Who wants to go outside right now and play some more?”
The children turned to Hans Krása and Ursula, silently begging permission.
Rahm waved his hands in the air, drawing their collective attention. “You’re to take a day off and enjoy the sun. Go, now go!” He laughed.
Addi ushered the children down the stairs, leaving Ursula, Rahm, and Krása in the rehearsal space. Rahm’s mouth twisted into a smug grin. “Like I said, we don’t know each ot
her well, Fräulein, but you really need to understand only one thing about me.” He stepped forward and grabbed her face with his hand, squeezing her cheeks until her mouth was forced open. She stood on tiptoes to lessen the strain as he pulled her toward him. She could feel his words enter her mouth and slide down her throat as he whispered. “I know under whose orders you are here. I know that you are protected. But . . . do not test me. Unlike my boorish predecessors, I can find ways to make you hurt that won’t ever be visible.” He shoved her away. She stumbled but righted herself. Rahm examined her withered, haggard body, then met her eyes. “You cannot ever win this game. Ever.”
47
The 355-kilometer trip from Copenhagen to Berlin gave Willy many hours to imagine the confrontation with his uncle. By the time the train screeched to a slow halt in the Berlin station, Willy had worked himself into such a state that he inadvertently forgot his fedora that sat above his ticketed seat. Realizing his mistake, he returned to the platform to retrieve the hat, but the train had pulled out of the station. Willy watched it disappear around a corner and then cursed in frustration. He turned to find a mother hugging her young son against her leg.
“Please excuse my outburst, madame. I left my hat on the train. I didn’t mean to scare you or your son.”
“It must be some hat for you to be so upset about losing it.”
Willy smiled sadly. “It is, actually, an exceptional hat. An amazing hat. I’m afraid that it might be lost to me forever.”
The woman looked at him for a long time, as if she were reading his thoughts. Her son pulled on her skirt, yet her gaze remained on Willy. “Are you certain that it’s your hat you’re missing?”
Her words found their mark. Willy realized with embarrassment that he was displacing his concern over Ursula to his fedora.
“Why don’t you speak to the stationmaster inside the terminal. He might be able to retrieve your hat for you.”
Willy touched his hand to his imaginary brim in thanks and went to the ticket desk. He spoke to the stationmaster, who assured him that he would look for it.
“Your name, sir?”
“William Hitler.”
The stationmaster’s head shot up quickly.
“Did you say William Hitler?”
“Yes.”
The man’s entire demeanor altered in a second. He straightened and threw out his right arm. “Heil, Hitler!” he screamed. Willy physically recoiled at the man’s ferocity and the wild look in his eyes. He couldn’t decide what offended him more—the fear, or the loyalty exhibited in the gesture. Willy nodded in thanks and walked outside to hail a cab.
Berlin had changed substantially in the two years he’d been gone. Huge pictures of an unsmiling Hitler loomed over each square. Swastika flags had been prevalent before, but now they were everywhere. Large and small banners hung from balconies, and SS soldiers marched the streets in strict formation, their legs shooting out in exacting goose-step unison. The cab parked in front of the Chancellery and Willy paused, considering for the first time that he may not make it out of Berlin alive. He whispered a silent prayer, told the cabbie to wait, and exited the car. He straightened his coat, smoothed his hair, and strode up the steps, looking far more confident than he felt.
He entered the building and was immediately stopped and searched by two very thorough SS officers. Satisfied, the taller one ordered, “This way,” and turned on his heel. Willy followed him through several heavy steel doors, noting that the older, wooden doors had been replaced. At the end of a narrow hallway were two massive guards who stood shoulder to shoulder, blocking a door. Willy’s guide nodded and they parted. The guide stepped forward, opened the door, and motioned Willy to enter. He did, expecting the guard to enter behind him, but when he turned around, he was alone in a vestibule no bigger than a tiny elevator. He turned and tried the door through which he’d entered, but it was locked. He twisted the handle on the door in front of him but it, too, was locked. He was just starting to panic when the door in front of him opened, and Anna appeared.
“Willy!” She rushed forward and embraced him. “Come in. Come in! Adolf will be so happy to see you!”
She acted as if they’d seen each other yesterday. Willy held his ground as she motioned for him to follow. “Anna, do you know where Ursula is?”
She ignored his question. “Willy, come, please. Adolf is waiting to see you.” She let go of the door and started walking. It was closing on its own, threatening to lock him inside again. He had no choice but to follow.
“Anna, stop for a moment and look at me.”
“We must go to Adolf.”
“Anna!” Willy grabbed her wrist and forced her to stop. “Where is Ursula?”
Anna averted her eyes. “I can’t tell you that.”
“You knew I was searching for her. Why didn’t you reach out to me?”
“Because I knew the end result would be this conversation, and I can’t have this conversation with you, Willy . . . even if I want to.” She started walking again, faster this time.
“She’s your sister, Anna.”
“Stop, Willy. I will not speak about her.”
Anna had sold her conscience for a life of luxury and false hero worship. How could two sisters be so incredibly different? Willy thought. He wanted to grab her and throw her against the wall until she told him Ursula’s whereabouts. But he knew that she would never betray Hitler, so he decided on a different tack. “It seems like there’s a lot of protection around Uncle Alf these days.”
Anna stopped to face him, and tears rushed to her eyes. She dabbed them away with a silk hankie that appeared from nowhere. “There have been several attempts on Adolf’s life. It’s astonishing considering all he has done for this country! We’re almost there.” She turned a corner and entered a tunnel that became so narrow they had to walk in single file. “Anna, where are we going? Was this tunnel always here?”
“No. It’s new. Adolf had it constructed so he could access the Chancellery gardens without walking outside. People are crazy, Willy. It’s remarkable what Adolf has had to do in order to keep us safe. Ah, here we are.”
She opened a thick, wooden door, and sunshine spilled into the tunnel, momentarily blinding Willy. After his eyes adjusted, he saw a lush, beautiful garden filled with approximately twenty well-dressed people who turned in unison. Willy’s mouth dropped as he recognized several famous film directors and composers. To his left, actresses Leni Riefenstahl and Erichtina Söderbaum stared at him, clearly deciding whether he was worth their time. Anna laughed as she followed his gaze. “Yes. Much has changed since you left, Willy. Adolf likes to spend time with people who understand him and his goals for the Reich. The group in this garden have not only funded his rise to power but continue to support his goals, as he supports theirs. It is a mutually beneficial relationship.”
A loud crack broke through the chatter and silenced the crowd. Nervous twitters and light laughter followed as the Führer stepped from behind a tree. In his hand he held a whip that he flicked in coordination with his stride. Hitler’s penchant for theatrics shone as he took his time approaching Willy. His deep blue eyes, always intense, held a mania Willy had never seen.
“William, how kind of you to join us.” Hitler cracked the whip and those closest to him jumped.
Willy flinched but held his ground. “Uncle.”
Hitler circled him as the partygoers looked on. Willy felt like a lab animal awaiting the first cut in a dissection. He glanced at Leni Riefenstahl and noted that her mouth was set in a small smile.
“I shall get right to the point, Willy. I did not care for your article. It was slanderous and mean.”
Willy swallowed, unsure how to proceed. He wanted to say many things, but he hadn’t considered that he might speak to Hitler in public. Nor had he ever imagined that his uncle would be brandishing a horsehair whip during their convers
ation.
“Now that you have vented your apparent anger at me, I expect you to move on.”
Willy closed his hands into fists.
“And I trust that you will no longer tour that wretched country spewing venom in the guise of telling the United States what a madman I am.”
Willy couldn’t help himself. He smiled. Hitler had been following his American speaking tour.
“Stop smiling!” Hitler seethed. He twitched the whip, and a split second later a crack sounded. Willy flinched and became stone-faced.
“That’s better,” Hitler said as he resumed circling Willy. The guests shifted their weight and exchanged nervous glances. What had started as a party game was deteriorating into a debacle they weren’t certain they wanted to see.
“Have you nothing to say, William?”
Willy slowly met Hitler’s gaze. “Is this why you called me here, Uncle? To berate me in front of your sychophants?”
Hitler’s lips curled into something resembling a smile. “You are an ungrateful sloth. I gave you every opportunity to excel in the Reich and you threw it away. Then you have the audacity . . . the audacity to speak ill of me overseas?” His anger spiraled, twisting his paranoia into a tale of treacherous woe in which he was wrongfully accused. “I am building glory here, William! I am building an empire in which the Aryan race prevails! It is imperative that we move forward according to the intentions of God! I have been chosen, and your mean-spirited words not only blaspheme me but fly in the face of everything I am trying to achieve for the Reich!”
Hitler looked away and caught his breath, then glowered at Willy. “You will stop, William. It is that simple. You. Will. Stop.”
Willy could feel the guests’ collective breath being held. He took a step forward. “Or what?”
Hitler didn’t hesitate. “I will kill her myself.”
Anna gasped but Willy ignored her. “So, she is alive. You told me through your spy that she wasn’t alive. But clearly, she is.” Willy smiled. “That’s all I needed to know, Uncle.” Willy turned on his heel and walked toward the door.
Swan Song Page 34