Enemy of the Tzar

by Lester S. Taube

  Hanna, Fergl, and Martha waited anxiously at Jules’ house for him to return from his military meeting, and it was nearly midnight before he walked in. He was in full uniform, saber and pistol fastened to his leather belt, his spiked helmet gleaming, and his eyes, looming large behind his thick glasses, bright with excitement. He flopped wearily into a chair and nodded his thanks as Fergl passed over a large glass of schnapps. He took a long pull.

  “That’s beautiful,” he said gratefully.

  “What’s going on?” asked Fergl.

  “Just a review of what we reserves must do in the event of an alert,” said Jules, taking another long swig and emptying the glass. He started getting out of his chair for a refill, but Fergl was there with the decanter.

  He seems to be taking even more schnapps every time he sits down, thought Hanna, with sadness.

  “Then its not a Kriegsgefahr, a danger of war?” asked Fergl.

  “Not at all,” said Jules. “From all the news, it’s just a tempest in a teapot.”

  “Not with that meshuggener in Vienna,” said Fergl flatly.

  “What meshuggener?” asked Hanna.

  “The Emperor Franz Josef,” replied Fergl. “He thinks he’s the ruler of a great state. He’s the ruler of a quilt. From last count, he’s got Hungarians, Germans, Czecks, Poles, Romanians, Slovenes, Italians, and Lord knows what else as subjects.”

  “It’s got to be a German world or a Slavic world,” said Jules.

  Fergl turned to him, his eyes flashing. “Why does it have to be? Why can’t all the different peoples rule themselves? We had enough of the Turks in the Balkans. Why replace them with Franz Josef?”

  “It’s either us or the Russians.”

  “Us? How did we suddenly get into the picture?”

  “You know what I mean, Uncle Freddy. Serbia is the stalking horse for Russia. Austria-Hungary is our ally, and, say what you will, Russia plans to dominate all of Europe. Therefore, Russia is our enemy.”

  “You’d better stop drinking that schnapps,” warned Fergl. “You’re sounding like a meshuggener, too.”

  Hanna sat up straighter. “Have you had supper?” she asked Jules.

  Jules grinned at Fergl. “Saved by Hanna. She knows what’s important.” He shook his head. “No, thanks. We had supper brought into the kaserne.”

  “So, again,” asked Fergl. “What’s going on?”

  “Just talk. You know, there are plans for everything.”

  “How about your eyes? Won’t they exempt you from duty?”

  “Perhaps from combat duty. But I can always do administrative work.”

  “Well, I’m going home to bed,” said Martha, getting up. She turned to Hanna. “You can stay overnight at our house.”

  “Let her stay here,” said Jules. “She’s here before anybody gets up anyhow.”

  “I think I will,” said Hanna. “Tomorrow is going to be a busy day.”

  With kisses on the cheek, the Fergls left. Jules filled his glass again. “Want another drink?” he asked Hanna.

  She shook her head. “I have been keeping up with Martha since supper, and my brain is whirling. I had better be off for bed.” She started towards the staircase, and then stopped. “Friedrich thinks there will be trouble.”

  Jules shrugged. “I hope not. But Uncle Freddy is right more often than he’s wrong.”

  Over the weeks, Fergl’s premonitions seemed to be on target. The newspapers were full of political challenges, which Austria and Serbia were hurling at each other. The Austrians were issuing ultimatums that no sovereign nation would accept. The reason was quite clear. Austria did not want satisfaction. She wanted Serbia.

  But behind Serbia’s small, tough army stood the specter of massive Russia, spoiling for a fight with Austria-Hungary, determined to be the champion of the Slavic peoples. As a counter to Russia, equally spoiling for a fight, was Germany’s Kaiser Wilhelm, sanctioning the bellicose outpourings of ancient Franz Josef, and assuring his ally that he could count on Germany’s full support if any action against Serbia brought her into conflict with Russia.

  Jules was going more frequently to the kaserne, and when he came home, his face was lined with fatigue. But Hanna could see a sense of relief in his eyes–the drums of war were taking his mind off the terrible loss of Natalie.

  On a Tuesday, directly after lunch, Fergl phoned Hanna. “They’ve done it!” he hissed, his voice strangely serious.

  “Is it war?” asked Hanna, goosebumps rising over her body.

  “Yes. Austria just announced it over the telegraph. There will be newspaper extras on the street at any time. I’ve been getting calls all day from the army supply people. They want me to prepare for a massive expansion.”

  “Where is Jules?”

  “He’s home, getting his things in order. He said that everyone will be in it before the week is out.”

  Hanna sat on the edge of her chair. “What about Paul?”

  “I told him to leave the boy with us.”

  She could barely speak the words. “What did Jules say?”

  Fergl chuckled. He was always a step ahead of everyone else. “He says he wants to talk it over with you first.”

  A relief so profound swept over her that her brain whirled. She knew exactly what she wanted, but could not even think of the words without making the sign of the horns with a hand and spitting through the fingers, like her mother. “I will go over there right away,” she said, banging down the receiver. In minutes, she was in her car and speeding down the streets. Jules and Fergl had taken turns teaching her to drive, and she had learned quickly, but no matter what they said, she drove as fast as conditions permitted. In less than fifteen minutes, she was at the house. Paul’s school year had ended the previous week, and he was in the yard helping Reuben with the garden.

  He came whooping to meet her, running around her in a circle, near enough for her to grab at him, but far enough away to avoid her hands. Hanna finally changed direction and trapped him, lifting him high in the air. He yelled with glee, his legs wrapping around her waist as she lowered him, his arms tight around her neck. She bussed him mightily, nosing him in the neck. Then her eyes lifted to the upstairs front room. Jules was standing at the window, looking down at them. She waved, and he waved back.

  “Off you go,” she said, lowering Paul to the ground.

  “Papi’s going into the army full time, isn’t he?”

  “Yes, it seems that way.”

  He stood straight in front of her. “You’re going to take care of me, aren’t you, Tante Hanna?”

  She found herself close to crying. “I want to, Paul. But your father must decide that. Now, off with you.”

  While he ran back to Reuben, Hanna entered the house. Jules was coming down the steps in full uniform. “So you heard?” he asked.

  “Yes. Friedrich phoned me.”

  “I was about to call myself. Come into the study.” He led the way. On the desk was a tray holding a pitcher of lemonade and glasses. “Want a drink?” he asked.

  “Yes, thanks.”

  He filled a glass and handed it over, then filled one for himself. “I’m glad you came. It’s about Paul.”

  She found herself unable to breathe again. If she sipped at the drink, it was sure to go down the wrong pipe. “Yes,” she said.

  “Tante Martha and Uncle Freddy said they would take care of him. I know they would. But I know Paul wants you.”

  She stood quietly, unable to move.

  “I would like you to take over for me, Hanna. But I don’t know whether I have the right to ask you.”

  She could hold herself in no longer. “I want him, Jules. I will do anything in the world to get him.”

  A wave of relief crossed Jules’ face. “I knew you would help, Hanna. But what about your companies?”

  “I will not let them interfere with seeing that he gets the best of attention.”

  “All right. But call on Uncle Freddy for anything you need. He will give you
money each week.”

  She tried to smile, but it did not come off. “I do not need any money.”

  He stroked the side of her cheek. “My little tycoon,” he said gently. “It seems that the Weiners are always in your debt.”

  “When do you report?” she asked, her throat tight.

  “I will move to the kaserne tonight.” Then he shrugged lightly. “There is a chance that war will be averted.”

  “Friedrich does not think so.”

  “He always thinks the worst. But if it comes to a fight, it should not last more than a few weeks. We are ready.”

  “Will you be sent away, or will you stay here on duty?”

  “My orders are secret, but I can say I won’t be near Stuttgart.”

  She finally found the calmness to sip at her drink. “I will move in this afternoon.” She looked closely at Jules. “If anything happens, you will be careful, will you not?”

  He chuckled. “There aren’t any heroes in this family.”

  “There was one already.”

  His face suddenly became serious. “Yes, Uncle Levi. How easily we forget. He was a hero. Perhaps many lives will be saved because of his courage.”

  “There were times I would rather see him alive and well. Do not forget that about yourself.”

  He smiled at her, fondly. “I will be careful. Now, let’s tell Paul.”

  On Thursday, both Russia and Austria ordered general mobilization, and on the following day, Hanna received a call while at work. It was Jules.

  “Hanna, I am leaving soon. Kiss everyone goodbye.”

  Her throat became so choked up that she could scarcely reply. “I will do as you ask. Jules, please take care. I love you.”

  There was a long moment of hesitation. “And I love you, my dear one.”

  Exactly two weeks later, Hanna received a call at her office from the district military personnel officer. “Frau Charnoff,” he said crisply. “Hauptmann Engel here. I regret to inform you that Leutnant Jules Weiner has been wounded in a battle with the French. His administrative unit was thrown into the fight at a crucial moment. He has lost an eye. He is being brought to the military hospital in Karlsruhe tomorrow. Since the district has been receiving a large number of wounded this past week, we are seeking help to tend the less seriously wounded officers.”

  At the instant Hanna realized that Jules was still alive, she whispered a prayer of thanks. “I will be there the first thing tomorrow to get him,” she said crisply.

  “Thank you.” He hung up.

  CHAPTER 40

  Stuttgart, the 31 December 1914

  My dear Bernard:

  Tonight is New Year’s Eve. Jules and I are staying at home, and have asked Friedrich and the crowd to just stop by for a few minutes to say hello. Friedrich is hosting a party tonight. You know him. Less than fifty people is a simple supper for him.

  Jules has come along exactly as you said. The bullet left a dreadful scar, but at least he still has one eye. He wears a patch, and I suspect he is secretly proud of his wound. The army has discharged him, with an Iron Cross Second Class, mind you, but he maneuvered the District Personnel Officer to allow him to help part time. He is running his store again with his usual vigor.

  I must say the first few weeks of tending him were almost heaven, with him sitting up and eating regular meals and complaining of the headaches you spoke of. Everyone spies on him not to read too long or under a dim light, but you know Jules. Then, of course, he gets his headaches.

  Tomorrow will be a grand occasion. We will go to shul. The first time since the declaration of Kriegsgefahr.

  January 3, 1915

  I am sorry, my dear, but the crowd came early, and it was late before they left. Friedrich was completely drunk. He said he had promised the Lord to drink to His honor if Jules came through his recuperation without complications, and was keeping his word.

  We had a great surprise at the shul. Rabbi Gluck invited Jules to read Torah, and when he walked up to the bimah, everyone stood up and applauded for ever so long. We were all in tears.

  You asked in your last letter if I could ever reconcile myself to losing Stephen. No. I do not seem to find the words when you are near, but Stephen will never be dead as long as I draw breath. He and the children must live, or else there would be no purpose in my living. Were things different, I could care for a man like you. You are a man with a destiny. One day you will open doors for people all over the world. I am proud that you care for me. But while I am waiting, I need to be needed, to be used. Paul needs me, and having him and Jules to care for makes each day a joy. Please, please understand.

  The news of the war is terrible. Killing, killing. It makes me ill. I did not know how to react when I heard about the Russians being slaughtered at Tannenberg. It is quite possible that some of the children I knew were there. It is fortunate that your country is neutral. I think Holland might be the only civilized nation in the world.

  Be my friend, always, Bernard. My heart would break if anything came between us. I cannot give you more than that.

  Ever, my dear one,

  Hanna

  The months sped by. After Jules recovered, he asked Hanna to give up her rooms, which had remained empty since the war began, and to move in with the family. Hanna was quite aware what people might think, but that did not matter. Having Paul for her very own meant much, much more than appearances. So life took on a new meaning. Putting down roots. Roots which had been shattered since she left Russia.

  In late summer, Jules had been ordered to active duty for two weeks to assist the personnel officer during field training of new troops north of Ulm. He was delighted to again be of use to the military.

  At the expected time of his return, Hanna heard the key in the lock and laid down the newspaper she was reading. Paul was asking so many questions about the war, that she read voraciously. She met Jules at the door. His face was ruddy from the sun; his body radiating health and vigor.

  “Hello,” he said, a wide smile on his face.

  She smiled back, happy to see him home. She came close to kiss his cheek.

  Suddenly, without warning, she was in his arms, his lips on hers. For a fleeting second her mind reeled, and then her arms went around him. She kissed him tenderly, and then she drew away. She looked deep into his eyes.

  “I have missed you very much,” she said slowly. “I guess you know that you are my dearest friend.”

  Jules came awake with a start at what he had almost done. He took in a hard breath of anger at himself, one filled with a sudden sense of loss. “You are right, Hanna,” he said softly. “I forgot for a moment who you really are.”

  “I know, Jules. For a moment as I held you, I hoped inside that you were Stephen.”

  He nodded in understanding. “I wish it could be him.” He lifted her hand and kissed it. “I will always be your best friend, my dear one. But don’t leave Paul and me. Stay as long as you can.”

  “As long as you need me, Jules. And a day longer.”

  The year had almost run its course when a call came to Hanna at midmorning.

  “Hanna, this is Friedrich.”

  “Good morning,” she replied warmly. It was always a pleasure to speak with him.

  “Hanna, do you have a little time for me? I must speak to you at once.”

  “Of course, Friedrich. I can be there in half an hour.”

  “I would prefer to come to your office,” he replied.

  Her head rose at a note in his voice. It was a nuance so slight that only a friend of long standing could detect. “Very well. I will be waiting.”

  When Fergl arrived, he was ushered in at once to Hanna’s office. It was so very like her, he thought once again. Chartreuse colored walls and curtains to demonstrate coolness without being distant, a large desk, heavy with files which were neatly stacked and orderly, comfortable chairs of gold and gray that hinted at her deep rooted femininity.

  After a kiss of affection, Fergl sat in front of th
e desk and came to the subject at once. “Hanna, my bank has cut off my line of credit.”

  Hanna sat back, shocked. “But that cannot be. You are doing very well.”

  “That’s exactly the reason.”

  “Explain that, Friedrich.”

  He hunched forward in his chair, his long, thin face suddenly pinched with anxiety. “I have more than two thousand people now, with enough contracts to keep them working for more than a year. That takes a great deal of money– materials, wages.” Hanna fully understood. She employed almost seven hundred of her own now, and many of her contracts required her to purchase materials herself. Fergl rubbed his hands together tightly. “Bremen Aktien Konzern made an offer four months ago to buy me out. I refused. I am sure they are behind this.”

  “Is such a company strong enough to dictate to your bank?”

  He snorted with contempt. “They are the cutting edge of Krupp.”

  Krupp! Hanna was amazed at Fergl’s words. Krupp was the armaments king. He owned giant industries, transportation, iron, coal. He employed over two hundred thousand people. The Kaiser did not make a move without first consulting him. “Have you tried another bank?” she asked.

  “I’ve tried six,” he replied, dejectedly. “They have all said the same thing–that they have huge demands on their funds and are loaning them out only to their special clients.” He shook his head. “I’m solvent, Hanna. If I closed my doors and sold everything I have, I’d be able to pay off all my debts and have enough left over to sit in the sun for a few years. But to turn over all I’ve worked for to those robbers. It makes me sick.”

  Hanna took a breath of relief that the contracts with her bank contained clauses which guarded against any cutting off of funds until the specific contracts were completed. It had cost her an extra percentage of interest, but she was still her father’s daughter. “How much do you need, Friedrich?” she asked.

  His eyes took on a glimmer of hope. “Eight hundred thousand marks.”

  Hanna’s mouth opened with alarm. Eight hundred thousand! It was impossible. “I cannot put together more than eighty or ninety thousand marks,” she said. “And doing that would endanger my own companies.”