“WAIT!” Hitler shrieked as he cracked the whip at its full length. A woman screamed and the crowd pressed together in an effort to find reprieve from Hitler’s fury. Willy turned around and noted that Hitler’s moustache twitched. His fury was palpable and fueled Willy’s anger.
“I swear that I will kill her, Willy. There will be no gunshot through her temple. It will be slow and painful. Men will enjoy her beforehand, as they have already. Count on it.”
His words painted a grim picture, and Willy started shaking. The harder he tried to control the tremors, the more violent they became. Like any apex predator, Hitler took note and went in for the kill. “Yes. You should know, Willy, that Ursula has enjoyed the company of men since she entered the ghetto. Several times, in exchange for clothing and food. Your fiancée is a whore. Not surprising, really, given her lineage. But nevertheless, probably somewhat disappointing for you I suppose.”
Willy’s hands balled into fists. He felt his fingernails digging into his palms. “You’re lying.”
Hitler scoffed. “I assure you that I am not.”
Willy’s stomach seized and bile rose in his throat. He stepped forward quickly. A guard appeared and threw his hand on Willy’s chest, stopping him from getting closer to the Führer. Willy felt his lips pull away from his teeth like a wild animal whose killing instinct must be tamed. “Hear me when I say that if you hurt Ursula, I will tell the world about your affair with Geli, and how she was pregnant with your child when she committed suicide.”
Gasps erupted from the guests. Rumor had run rampant about Hitler’s affair with Geli, before and after her demise. The coroner had quickly ruled her death a suicide, and the body had been rushed to Vienna for burial. The Bavarian Minister of Justice, Frank Gürtner, had halted any more investigation, and Hitler’s propaganda machine had gone into overdrive to spin stories about what might have driven such a beautiful young woman to take her life.
Hitler’s eyes became wild as he lifted the whip, then cracked it centimeters away from Willy’s left side, taking the heads off a row of blood-red begonias. Willy didn’t flinch. He was beyond feeling or surprise. All that mattered was finding Ursula. He glowered at Hitler and was astounded to find that his uncle’s eyes had become dewy.
“I loved Geli and I was sick when she died. You need to understand that Ursula is my second chance. She’s my Geli. Mine!” A tear ran down his cheek and he swiped it away.
“She’s not Geli, Uncle!”
“I know that!” he screamed. Hitler tugged his bangs away from his eyes and wiped his mouth. His hands were shaking as he pointed the handle of the whip at Willy. “I will not hesitate to kill her, Willy. I’ll kill her and then take my own life if you write one more word about me!” His anguished eyes scanned the garden as he raved.
Willy felt his adrenaline drain, and he felt suddenly exhausted. “I just want Ursula back, Uncle. I promise that I will remain silent if you allow Ursula and me to return to the United States.”
Hitler, still wrapped in his own grief, paused and wiped his eyes, then stared at the anxious crowd as if seeing them for the first time. Their fear seemed to embolden him, and his sadness instantaneously evaporated. He stood straighter and smoothed his hair, then turned to Willy. “I will not return her to you, nor will you write another bad word about me. I have stated my terms, and you will abide by them or Ursula will pay the ultimate price. Now, get out and never claim any familial bond with me. I disown you as my nephew. As far as I am concerned, you are deceased.” Like a petulant child who has spoken and won’t await a response, he turned quickly and muttered something that made the captivated crowd laugh. Everyone relaxed and returned to sipping their wine as if nothing had happened.
Willy watched them for a moment, marveling at the ease with which this group had compartmentalized their lives, banishing reality to the less fortunate. He returned the way he had come and entered the cab that awaited him outside the Chancellery. He smiled broadly as he recalled Hitler’s exact words. “You should know, Willy, that Ursula has enjoyed the company of men since she entered the ghetto.”
The ghetto, Willy repeated in his mind. In the weeks leading up to his trip to Denmark, Willy had researched each of the work camps. There was only one that was referred to as a ghetto, and that was Terezín. The other prisons were referred to as concentration camps. By using the term “ghetto” Hitler had inadvertently revealed Ursula’s location.
The driver gazed at him in the rearview mirror. “Forgive me for saying so, sir, but you seem rather happier than when you entered that building.”
Willy met his eyes. “I am, my good man. I am.”
48
Ursula spent the morning watching a run-through of Brundibár. As promised, Ilse had cobbled together splendid, colorful costumes that allowed the children a further imaginary escape from the camp. She had bartered, bribed, and stolen the necessary material and had worked tirelessly to ensure their completion. Addi had prevailed as well, creating false moustaches and finding stage makeup for some of the cast.
For their part, the children had exceeded Ursula’s expectations, and she felt humbled by their trust in her. Their excitement was infectious, yet they undertook their roles with a mature focus, determined to meet their vocal director’s exacting standards. Her heart soared when she thought of them, a rambunctious group that had become her new family. She felt like a mother to the younger ones and a big sister to the teens. She couldn’t wait to showcase their talents!
“Ursula, why are you smiling?” Ilse asked.
“I’m so proud of our group, I could burst!”
Ilse grinned and sewed the final stitches of the cat costume. “Three days until our performance. The time has passed quickly.”
“Why do you think Rahm has ordered a mandatory roll call today?” Ursula asked.
Ilse shrugged. “Who knows? We haven’t had one for a week or so. Honestly, I think some people could have walked out of here, and the guards wouldn’t have noticed. They’ve been so busy overseeing the ghetto’s beautification.”
“There’s nowhere to go, even if we did leave.”
“I know, but you understand my point. Things feel different. Although I was initially skeptical, Terezín feels almost like a real town now, not a camp.”
Ursula’s eyebrows came together. She, too, had felt the positive change. Not only in the living conditions, but in the attitudes of the guards and the Jewish Council. The air smelled fresher, and people seemed kinder. Money changed hands for goods and services. People felt proud once again as they contributed towards something bigger than themselves. But beneath the painted buildings and relaxed attitudes, Ursula still felt an undercurrent, a hidden riptide that threatened to drown the peace.
“You don’t agree?” Ilse examined her. “What is it, Ursula?”
“I can’t shake the feeling that all is not what it seems.”
“Well, I hope you’re mistaken.”
“Me too.”
“What do you make of the Red Cross coming to visit?” Ilse asked.
“After Rahm told us they were coming, I spoke to Jakob Edelstein of the council. He reinforced what we’d been told. The world wants to know that we’re being treated well here. That’s why the recent changes have taken place.”
Ilse blinked. “But what happens after the visit? Did Jakob talk about that?”
“I asked the same question. Apparently, Rahm assured him that the positive changes would be maintained for the duration of our time here.”
Ilse sighed. “That’s good to hear.”
“Yes.” Ursula didn’t share her concern over the phrase that Rahm had used, “the duration of our time here.” As if the time were short-lived. Are we going to be moved? Killed? The uncertainty was the undercurrent of tension, the riptide. It seemed as if she were the only person who felt it, so she kept her apprehension to herself.
“What do you think?” Ilse held up the completed costume, and Ursula’s concerns melted away.
“Oh, Ilse. You have truly outdone yourself. It’s beautiful.”
“I made a promise to the children, and by God, I was going to keep it.” She beamed.
A claxon call interrupted their conversation and reverberated throughout the camp’s loudspeakers, followed by Rahm’s booming voice. “Everyone will report to the town square in five minutes.” The directive repeated two more times, and the speaker fell silent. Tension crept into Ursula’s jaw, and she noted that Ilse, too, moved more stiffly as she packed away her sewing supplies.
Five minutes later they joined thousands of other inmates on the lawn in front of the Town Hall. Without being told, the crowd arranged themselves so that the quad was covered in seemingly endless, perfectly straight queues. They remained silent as the guards counted them, tensing when the dogs walked by, and then relaxing when they moved on. Twenty minutes later everyone had been accounted for, and Rahm spoke into a microphone.
“Good afternoon. You did a fine job today organizing yourselves. As many of you already know, we will have visitors in three days’ time. The International Red Cross will be spending an entire day in our little town, and I expect you to be good hosts and hostesses. They will follow a predetermined path. Those of you who will interact with them have been made aware of your roles. Those of you who will not interact with them will not speak, even if spoken to. Is that clear?” Thousands of heads nodded silently. “If you choose to speak, there will be consequences. If not to you, then to someone you love. Is that clear?” People nodded again, this time staring at the ground.
“There will be a football match and a performance by the children while our visitors are here. If you are on the two teams that will be playing, or if you are in the children’s opera, please step out of line.”
Well-trained, the individuals Rahm mentioned took one step to the right so that they stood out to the commandant, who gazed at them before continuing. Ursula noted that the football players were mostly Danish and in very good physical condition. They had been in the camp only a relatively short time. “The people involved in the performances may not speak to our visitors, even if spoken to. Is that understood?” He looked directly at Ursula. Her eyes bored into him, but she nodded. “Good. Now, another order of business. I know that conditions here in Terezín have become more crowded in recent months, but we are now prepared to send some of you to Theresienstadt family camp, located slightly east of here.” Murmurs bubbled through the crowd. Rahm held up his hands. “Now, now. Don’t worry. Much like Terezín, the new camp has been restructured to accommodate larger numbers of Jews. You will like it there, and you’re guaranteed to remain with your family. Over the next two days many of you will pack your belongings and board the train for your new home. Any questions?” Blank faces stared. They knew that Rahm’s question was rhetorical. “Good. Dismissed.”
People disseminated as they discussed the upcoming Red Cross visit and the family camp. Ursula and Ilse linked arms and walked slowly as they watched a woman walk by with her three young children in tow, all of them holding hands. “I don’t have a good feeling, Ilse.”
“Me neither.”
***
Ursula awoke to the clatter of train wheels on the tracks. A whistle blew, followed by Rahm’s voice over the loudspeaker. “An officer will collect you from your barracks if you are to travel today. Be ready.” Everyone jumped up and stood in front of their bunks. They listened as heavy boots climbed the stairs and paused on each floor, bellowed some numbers, and then continued upwards. When the boots appeared at her door, they were occupied by Edvard Svoboda. Ursula watched him scan the room. He caught Addi’s eye and smiled. She smiled back, and Ursula realized that they genuinely cared for each other. What had started as an “arrangement” had blossomed into something from which each party gained. She supposed many successful marriages were based on the same premise.
Svoboda cleared his throat and reviewed the numbers on his list, then called them out quickly. “Gather your belongings and get on the train if your name was called.”
Forty-five people from their room exited the building and stepped into the almost-full cattle car. As the train slowly pulled away, Ursula examined its occupants. Rahm had kept his word. Families remained together.
“Fräulein?”
Ursula turned to find Rahm staring down at her. A sliver of ice slid down her spine, and she shuddered. He took no notice. “I’m glad that you remain here.” Ursula said nothing. He stepped closer. “I believe that working with the children has been good for you. You have color in your cheeks.”
“The ample food and regular bathing have done their part as well.”
“But of course. My point is . . .”
She strained to look past him, but his frame was too broad. She ended up staring at his chest. He cleared his throat. “You’re being rude. I was saying that—”
“I understand what you’re saying . . . or what you’re not saying.”
“Fräulein, I suggest that you alter your tone. You—”
“Are not for sale.”
“What?”
She focused on the buttons of his coat, not trusting herself to look anywhere else. Perhaps it was the recent freedom that she’d been granted, or the fact that she found herself dreaming more often of life after the camp. But somewhere, deep down, she’d made a decision to stand up for herself. She couldn’t avoid all of the daily, personal degradations, but she could draw the line at being violated. Or she could try. An unexpected calm descended upon her. Her emotions flatlined, and she exited her body so that she was looking down at the two of them from above.
Rahm chuckled. “You’re not for sale? As I mentioned, I’m not interested in you. At all, actually. You repulse me.”
Her shoulders relaxed.
“However, I don’t care for your tone, so I suggest you alter it.”
Relieved, she smiled, a real smile, and looked into his eyes. “That’s better,” he said. “Now, I have gotten word that the Führer, who has never visited a camp, will be attending the children’s performance. He has requested that you wear the green dress he gifted you when you performed Verdi.”
Ursula felt her insides flip, and she started shaking. It started in her belly and worked its way outwards until her entire body trembled. He’s going to kill me, she thought. She couldn’t explain how she knew it, but she had never been more certain of anything in her life. He’s never been to one of his torture centers, yet he’s coming here to murder me.
Before she could stop herself, she said, “No.”
He leaned into her and spoke evenly, without emotion. “You will play the role I assign to you or suffer the consequences.”
She forced herself to look into his black eyes. “I will not.”
Time slowed as she watched Rahm lift his heavy arm. He drew it across his body and lifted it high above his head. It descended, and at the height of its momentum, landed against her head, which jerked to the left. The force of the blow lifted her from the ground and smashed her against the wall. She observed from above as the shell of her body crumpled to the ground, and onlookers shrank in fear.
She listened to Rahm’s breath as he bent over her and felt for a pulse. Satisfied that she was still alive, he hissed, “What a bitch you are! Look what you made me do! Now you’re going to be damaged when the Führer arrives. He will not be pleased.”
Although she fought it, her mind reentered her body and processed the pain. She wished she could exit her body again, but the momentary break with reality that had allowed her to stand up for herself relinquished its protective hold, and her self-awareness returned. Exhausted, she lay there, hoping for the final blow that would end her misery. But in her soul, she knew that it wouldn’t come. She was Hitler’s prey, and his conquest would never be denied. Edvard Svo
boda appeared and lifted her from the ground. He carried her to Dresden and placed her on a bunk, then turned to Addi, who had trailed behind. “She’ll be okay, but she was hit very hard. Take care of her. She needs to look presentable for the upcoming visit.”
Svoboda exited the room, and Addi rushed over to examine her face. “Oh, Ursula. Your cheek is split wide open. I hope the bone isn’t broken.”
Ursula winced. “Well, something is broken. It hurts to breathe.”
Addi gingerly touched her left side and Ursula screamed. “I think several ribs are broken, Ursula. You hit the wall very hard. Your face is bleeding a lot. Ilse, can you please sew Ursula’s cheek?”
Ilse appeared with a needle already threaded. “This is going to hurt, Ursula.”
“No more than my pride.”
Ilse inserted the needle into the skin on both sides of the open gash and pulled the skin flaps together.
Ursula gasped through clenched teeth. “I don’t know which hurts more. Breathing or being sewn back together.”
“Sorry. I’m doing my best,” Ilse whispered.
Edvard Svoboda appeared at the doorway again and called out more names for the next train. When the chosen had left the room, he asked how Ursula was doing.
“She’ll be alright,” Addi answered.
“Another train already?” Ursula asked.
“It would seem so,” Ilse said, her face a mask of concentration as she stitched. They listened as Svoboda called out another twenty-five names, leaving only eight people in their bunkroom. When he’d gone, Ursula whispered, “They’re cleaning house.”
Addi nodded. “Many people who are going to the new camp are older or sick.”
Ilse shook her head. “That’s not true. There are plenty of children going.”
“But they’re leaving with their parents because Rahm said that families would stay together,” Addi countered.
“That’s the only way people would get on the trains so readily,” Ursula whispered. “As long as they’re together, they think they’re safe. But they’re not.”
Swan Song Page 35