“What do you think Rahm is doing, Ursula?”
Her heart sank as she fully realized the brilliance of his plan. The ghetto had been spruced up, and the prisoners had been fed, bathed, and instructed on what to say and how to appear. Two performances had been prepared for the upcoming visit—a football match and a children’s opera. What better way to fool the world than by showcasing healthy, happy children? The final step, of course, was to lessen the ghetto’s overpopulation and weed out those who appear physically compromised in some way, thereby completing the picture of a content, well-cared-for Jewish community. Rahm’s words played through her memory. “You will play the role I assign to you or suffer the consequences.”
“We’ve been preparing Brundibár, but that’s not the actual performance that matters. When the International Red Cross comes, we will be acting on a global stage. The reward for a mediocre portrayal will be death.” She turned her head to the side, wincing at the pain. “The role of a lifetime.”
49
Trains had run day and night over the last two days and carried away more than eighty percent of Terezín’s inhabitants, leaving approximately seven thousand within the fortress walls. The result was that the camp seemed almost empty. With only eight to a bunkroom, guards had ordered the remaining inmates to scrub the walls and floors until they shone, then installed real beds, bookshelves, and desks in each room. The more effort put into beautification, the more nervous Ursula became about the Red Cross visit. The unspoken tension was felt by most remaining inmates who moved about quietly, afraid to draw the attention of guards who found themselves with extra time.
The Brundibár cast ended up performing their dress rehearsal in front of the entire camp administration. When it was over, the soldiers and guards—led by Karl Rahm—leapt to their feet and whistled and cheered.
Hans Krása addressed the audience. “Thank you so much for coming. We hope you enjoyed the show!” The crowd erupted again, and Ursula was reminded of her curtain call after playing Adele in Die Fledermaus, only eleven years prior. How far I’ve come, she thought. How far I’ve fallen.
Rahm locked eyes with her. She glared in return and unconsciously touched her stitched cheek as he approached.
“You did a fine job with the children. The performance was well done.”
“Thank you.”
Rahm kept his eyes on her.
Ursula fidgeted. His stare was disconcerting. Unlike Seidl, whose motivations were clear, she didn’t know what Rahm wanted when he looked at her. “The Red Cross will arrive soon, yes?”
Rahm looked at his watch. “Any minute. Do you remember the schedule?”
“Yes. They arrive at eleven a.m. and meet with you until twelve p.m., when they have lunch, then a tour of the camp, followed by the football game, a short break, then the opera, dinner, and then they leave. Did I miss anything?”
Rahm squinted at her. “You missed nothing. Remember, you must wear the green dress for the performance. I trust we will not have any more issues surrounding the Führer’s request?”
She bit her lip and forced a response. “Yes.”
“Remember, do not speak, even if spoken to. Is that clear?”
“Yes.”
He looked at her again, and she met his eyes. In them she noted something she’d never seen before. A slight crinkle at the edges, a small lift of the eyebrow. She didn’t recognize it at first, so when the realization came, it perplexed her.
Fear. He’s actually scared. But of what?
50
Willy returned to the Copenhagen hotel and shared his news about Ursula’s location. Although he desperately wanted nothing more than to jump into a car and drive to the camp, Wallenburg reminded him that arriving with the Red Cross would place him in a more powerful position than arriving on his own. “Besides,” Wallenburg reasoned, “have you formulated a plan to get her out of there? Take the two days before we arrive to plan, Willy.”
Willy agreed and spent the next two days writing letters. His first letter was to Bridget and Otto, updating them on the meeting with Hitler and his locating Ursula. He then wrote to anyone he thought might help his case: United Kingdom Prime Minister Winston Churchill, American President Franklin Roosevelt, King Christian X of Denmark, and Max Huber, President of the International Red Cross. He also penned a note to William Randolph Hearst on the off chance that he had some influence with any of the others. Willy knew that his letters wouldn’t arrive until after the Red Cross visit had occurred, but he was laying the groundwork in case the situation developed into an international incident.
After sealing the letters and leaving them with the concierge, Willy turned his attention to the plan to free Ursula. Because Hitler had known that Willy was in Copenhagen, he also presumably knew that Willy was on his way to Terezín with the Red Cross.
Would Ursula be there? Willy wondered. Would Uncle move her somewhere else? Hide her? Or would he parade her as a prisoner in front of me?
He was fairly certain that Hitler wouldn’t actually kill her, at least not before Willy arrived. Hitler would hold her as a bargaining chip for as long as he could. Besides, Hitler held a sick fascination for Ursula, a kind of twisted, possessive passion. Willy’s greatest fear was that his uncle’s passion would morph into a vicious hatred that could spiral out of control.
Bribing the guards was a distinct possibility, so prior to coming to Europe Willy had withdrawn a significant amount of cash. If that didn’t work, then he would devise a way to sneak her out. Perhaps in the boot of the car? A disguise?
Willy shook his head. Without knowing the exact layout of the camp and the number of guards, there was no way he could proactively plan their getaway. He would have to get there and think on his feet. Improvise.
Then a terrible thought struck. What if Ursula is crippled? What if she can’t walk? Willy dropped his head in his hands and started to cry. He was so close to her, yet in some ways was no closer than when he didn’t know where she was.
No! He corrected his thoughts. You know where she is, and you will bring her back with you, or die trying.
***
The small caravan carrying Willy, Wallenburg, and the Danish and International Red Cross representatives approached Terezín. Willy’s heart hammered in his chest as the cars passed through the gate labeled Arbeit Macht Frei.
“That’s a sick joke,” Willy commented. “These people are incarcerated.”
Wallenburg translated the phrase. “Work sets you free. Probably not true in this place.”
“No doubt that was Uncle Alf’s idea.”
“Remember, Willy, keep your wits about you and let me do the talking. Alright?”
Willy nodded. “I promise. Thank you, by the way, for all that you’ve done. I know that you gave me this job so I could find Ursula. But I hope that I’ve been an acceptable assistant.”
Wallenburg put his hand on Willy’s shoulder. “You’ve been exceptional, actually. I was hoping that when this visit is over you might think of staying on.”
Willy was touched. “Thanks. I’ll think about it.”
The car drove past several freshly painted buildings, then around the quadrangle to park in front of the Town Hall. Karl Rahm stood at the base of the stairs with his officers and soldiers arranged behind him. Two well-dressed prisoners stepped forward and opened the car doors. Wallenburg exited, followed by Willy. The other car parked, and its occupants exited as well. When the visitors had gathered, Rahm lifted his chin. In pristine unison, one hundred uniformed guards slapped their heels together and stood at attention. Rahm stepped forward and shook each visitor’s hand. “Welcome to Terezín, an artist and retirement community for Jews.”
Willy’s eyes wandered around the square, but the only inmates he saw were the ones who had opened the car doors. He tried to catch their eyes, but they looked straight ahead or at the ground. Rahm
wasted no time.
“Please, gentlemen, come in and let us enjoy a nice lunch.”
51
From a window on the fourth floor of Dresden barracks, Ursula scrutinized the two black limousines filled with strangers who would pass judgment on the treatment of Jews in Terezín. She pressed her face against the glass to better see the visitors as the cars drove by. One man turned toward her, but the glare of the sun bounced off the window, momentarily blinding her. When she regained her vision, the car had passed.
52
Willy’s stomach was in knots, but he forced down the lunch of beef stew, potato dumplings, and a spätzle. He declined dessert, hoping that the group might start the tour a bit early. He was disappointed when Rahm announced that they would be strictly adhering to the preorganized schedule out of “respect for the townsfolk who had labored to ensure a fine visit.” Willy smiled repeatedly at the women who served their lunch but, once again, they kept their eyes either on the plates or on each other. Not once did any of them make eye contact with their guests.
“Tell me, Herr Rahm, the people serving us today. Are they servants or paid employees of the town?”
Rahm offered his most winning smile. “They’re compensated for their work.”
Wallenburg shot Willy a warning glance. Willy ignored him. “I see. I find it interesting that they don’t interact with us in any way.”
Rahm stiffened. It was a tiny change, but Willy noticed it. “Well, Herr Hitler, here in Terezín we have trained our staff to be respectful of authority. That’s not to say that they’re scared of us. Quite the contrary, I assure you. They simply know their place and feel fortunate to have work.”
A young female server approached with a steaming cup of coffee. As she placed it in front of Willy, some liquid sloshed over the side and into the saucer. The woman drew a sharp breath and glanced fearfully at Rahm. Willy saw the glimpse and knew that the niggling he felt deep down held merit.
“It’s alright.” Willy smiled and placed his hand on her arm. She looked at him, and his smile dropped. He saw terror, sorrow, and pathetic gratitude for his graciousness. Time paused as they shared a silent conversation, but it was over in a second. Willy’s insides hardened, and he turned to find Rahm glaring at him.
Willy returned the glare. “I’d like to take that tour now. Please.”
53
Ursula, Addi, and Ilse peeked around the corner of Dresden. Although forbidden to exit their barracks during the visitors’ tour, they had snuck out. They were aware of the punishment if they were caught, but the impulse to see people from the outside world, where things were not upside down and everyone was free, was irresistible. They walked quickly down the street, turned left, and then right so they were staring at the lush green grass of the quad where the football players were warming up. They hid behind a large tree and saw guards standing in front of the Town Hall, stomping their boots in appreciation when one of the young men performed a particularly talented trick with the ball.
“Ursula, stop swishing,” Addi scolded.
Ursula pulled at her dress, which hung on her gaunt frame. “I can’t help it, Addi. This dress is far too big, and it drags when I walk.”
Ilse looked at her. “You do look beautiful.”
Ursula rolled her eyes. “I look ridiculous. He wants me to look ridiculous.”
“He wants you to stand out,” Addi said.
“But only to make fun of me,” Ursula finished.
“Hush! They’ll hear us. Oh, they’re leaving the Town Hall.”
The doors to the Town Hall opened, and eight men emerged. Led by Rahm, they walked down the steps and paused at the edge of the grass, watching the players practice. Rahm said something and they all laughed.
Except one.
One of the men stood stoically, his arms folded across his chest. Instead of watching the athletes, his head swiveled, examining far-reaching corners as if searching for something. Ursula noted that he was well-dressed, but he was too far away to discern individual features. He was tall and stood out from the rest of the group, not because he was dressed differently, but because of the way he carried himself.
He seemed proud and confident. And determined. And familiar.
She leaned forward and squinted. Without thinking, her right hand found her neck and started twisting the chain that hung there.
“He reminds me of Willy,” she whispered.
“What? Who? Which one?” Ilse and Addi spoke at once.
“The one that’s hanging back from the group. He has Willy’s stature and . . . his walk. It’s so much like Willy’s.”
Ilse rubbed her back. “You know that’s not Willy, don’t you? There’s no way that the Führer would allow him to come here.”
“Unless the Führer doesn’t know,” Ursula breathed.
“As you so aptly pointed out, Ursula, the Führer knows everything that has to do with you. Do you really believe that Willy could sneak in here without his uncle knowing about it?”
Ursula’s heart sank as the man reluctantly followed the rest of the group across the grass to start their tour. She turned to her friends and covered her face with her hands. “Of course, you’re correct. My imagination is playing tricks. I feel like I’m losing my mind. Besides, I would never want Willy to see me like this. Broken ribs and bumpy nose, a scar like a pirate across my cheek. I’m hideous.”
Ilse smiled. “Ursula, don’t you realize that you’re more beautiful now than when you entered the ghetto?”
Ursula choked back a sob and wiped tears from her eyes. “You’re wrong. Kind, but very, very wrong, Ilse.”
Addi shook her head. “No, Ursula. Ilse is correct. You are more beautiful now.”
“But I’m broken.”
Ilse smiled. “That’s precisely what makes you so stunning. Like a broken vase that has been glued back together, your light can now shine through the cracks that have been made, allowing those around you to see the real you, your goodness.”
Ursula looked intently at her friends, frightened to utter her thoughts. After several moments, she gave them voice. “But if I ever see Willy again, will he be able to see through my cracks?”
Ilse started to cry and ran her finger along Ursula’s cheek. “From what you’ve told us, Willy has always been able to see through your cracks, even before they were visible to you or the outside world.”
Ursula smiled through her tears. “I’m very fortunate to have you two as my friends.”
Addi nodded. “Yes. You are. Now, let’s stop being worrisome women. You will see Willy again, and we do have an opera to stage, so let’s get to it.”
54
Willy thought he would lose his mind as he straggled behind the tour. He took every opportunity to peek around corners and into windows. Several times Rahm caught him lagging and called him to the front of the group. Willy always complied, but he found his impatience growing as the hours ticked by.
During the football match he was able to enjoy himself for minutes at a time as he got caught up in the rivalry and excitement. The match ended in a tie, with both teams urging for more time to properly determine a winner. But Rahm insisted on moving the visit along, so Willy waved to the players and followed the group toward the Town Hall for a brief respite before the opera.
Rahm had not left Willy’s side during the second half of the tour. But when the commandant was called into the Town Hall for a moment, Wallenburg sidled up to Willy. “Any sign of her?”
Willy shook his head. “No, but it’s a large area. Have you noticed that the only people who answer our questions are the Danish prisoners? I think they’re allowed to speak because King Christian is the person who insisted on this visit. But no one else responds to questions. They always look at Rahm when we speak to them, and he answers for them.”
“Yes. I have noticed that.”<
br />
“I’m wondering if the entire town has been whitewashed for our visit. Something seems very . . . wrong.”
Wallenburg’s eyebrows came together. “I’m not sure I agree, Willy. It seems like the Jews are being treated well here.”
Willy pulled back. “Please don’t tell me that you’re falling for their ruse.”
Wallenburg looked around. “The people look happy, Willy. They’re fed and clothed. There are cafés and bookshops. A school. Football games. Not one person has said anything negative about their living conditions.”
Willy shook his head. “I think they can’t speak or they’ll be punished. Can you really not see past the paint and rosebushes?”
“What are we discussing, gentlemen?” Rahm approached and tilted his head in Willy’s direction. “I trust everyone is happy?”
Willy looked away, not trusting himself to speak.
“Good news,” the commandant continued. “I just received a phone call from Adolf Eichmann. He and the Führer will be here in time for the opera at four o’clock.”
55
The children’s excitement was barely contained as they sang vocal warm-ups. Afterwards, Krása gave them a rousing, pre-performance speech, and Ursula gathered them around her for a final word before they took the stage. The drone of chatter from the audience seated in the newly constructed auditorium carried to the cast and made them even more eager to showcase their hard work. Ursula smiled at Addi, who clapped her hands twice to silence the animated children.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Ursula said. “It’s been my pleasure to be your vocal coach. I can’t think of anyone else with whom I would rather work on this fine day. Each of you has surpassed my high expectations, and it’s been my honor to get to know you. Your ages range from five to seventeen, yet all of you have carried yourselves with the utmost professionalism and dignity in these trying times.”
Swan Song Page 36