“It wasn’t an open invitation!” she whisper-yelled at me, worming herself out of my embrace. “Who is that man talking to Georg? Are we hiding from him?”
“You know, you’re very perceptive for a pretty girl.” My eyes adjusted to the darkness at last and, despite only a thin ray of light coming from the hallway, I could see her arch her brow. “Yes, we are.”
“Why?”
“And too curious for your own good, too,” I grumbled good-naturedly. “Because I don’t want to talk to him, that’s why.”
“I figured so. And why don’t you want to talk to him?”
I thought about making up some story, but then decided to tell her how it was, and let her decide if it was humiliating or not to hide from him like this.
“Do you know who he is?”
“No.”
“That’s Adolf Eichmann, Heydrich’s former protégé. He’s in charge of the extermination program. Now, imagine what he came to talk to me about. I hope you understand why I prefer to be with you in the bathroom instead.”
Meanwhile, I heard approaching steps, muffled by the carpet in the hallway, and saw Eichmann pass by. I sighed in relief, mentally thanking Georg for quickly catching onto my mood and successfully turning Eichmann away, using whatever quick reason he had made up. I turned my head in the direction in which Eichmann disappeared, and turned back to Annalise to see her beam at me.
“What?” I smiled back at her. “Are you thinking I’m pathetic?”
“No. I’m thinking if we were on the front and I were a Russian sniper, I wouldn’t have killed you.”
_______________
Linz, November 1918
I was thinking over Father Wilhelm’s words for a minute, while studying my nails and the floor under my feet. I rarely went to mass with my mother, but I was becoming used to going to church and seeing him whenever I had to talk to someone – an adult who wasn’t my mother, that is. If she only knew what was going on in my head, she would start crying again and blaming herself for being unable to provide me with the carefree childhood that she and my father had hoped to give all their children, but could no longer afford.
It wasn’t her fault either, it was the war, something that neither she nor my father could have predicted, nor control, and the fact that we had just lost the war – much to everyone’s surprise, since we were actually doing quite well it seemed – only made matters worse. And that’s exactly why I had adopted the habit of not speaking to her about anything that might upset her. Father Wilhelm, on the contrary, turned out to be that figure that I was able to look up to, always very calm, poised and ready to listen to all my unhappy thoughts.
“Sometimes I feel like He abandoned me, Father.” I sighed. That was another reason why I was looking for his company so much: I knew that he’d never get mad or start shaming me for saying such blasphemy in a house of God. He understood me, plain and simple, and never used loud or patronizing words.
“He never abandons His children, Ernst. He can try us from time to time, but He never sends a challenge to one who can’t meet it. Everything that causes you suffering today will make you into a better man tomorrow. God always has a plan, but our human eyes are just too small to see the whole picture. Even now, through the turmoil, He leads you to your destiny.”
“Destiny?” I smiled with a corner of my mouth. “It’s not like I’m going to become someone great. Graduating from school and putting some bread on the table for my family would be nice to begin with.”
“Don’t belittle your abilities, Ernst, and never put yourself down. You can always become great, you just have to choose the right path. Not the easy one though, but the right one. And the right one will never be easy.”
I nodded and kissed his hand, as he drew an invisible cross on my forehead. Back home my mother rushed to hug me as soon as I stepped through the door.
“He’s alive, Erni!!! He’s alive! I just got a letter saying Hugo’s alive! He’s been wounded and is being treated in the hospital for prisoners of war in France! But he’s alive and will be back home soon!”
This time her tears were happy tears, and I cried with her too, feeling like a rock had been lifted from my shoulders. I kept convincing my family with such certainty that he would be back, but I had no idea how I would have taken the news of his death. I wouldn’t be able to justify myself in their eyes, for putting false hope in their aching hearts. I raised my eyes to the ceiling and whispered, “Thank you.” My father was alive.
I couldn’t wait to share the news with Dalia later that evening. Her parents were just serving dinner and insisted that I shared it with them, an invitation that I accepted with gratitude, even though I’d already eaten at home. However, when your main course consists of what is normally served as a side dish, you probably wouldn’t refuse participating in a feast like the Katzmans’ were having, and to me it looked like one.
They shared my excitement over the news concerning my father with the sincerest of smiles and hugs, and wished him a quick recovery and a safe return. Dr. Katzman even poured me a glass of wine to celebrate the occasion, which I drank far faster than I should have. When I later followed Dalia to her bedroom I was smiling both from the news and the pleasant warmth inside my chest.
“How about to hell with homework tonight?” I grinned at the girl, making myself comfortable on her bed with my back to the wall.
“Papa will hear you and will make you leave, if you keep saying things like that.”
She threw a quick glance at the opened door; as soon as I had returned from the farm this summer, Dr. Katzman looked my six foot frame up and down, cleared his throat and suggested that we kept the door to Dalia’s room open from now on. All of a sudden he didn’t trust me around his seventeen year old daughter, who had flourished into a beautiful young woman. I was watching her shapely figure, which even a modest dark dress couldn’t hide, as she was digging in her school bag for books, and thought that maybe Dr. Katzman was right. Almost every night at home I kept thinking of how she would look without that dress on.
Dalia put her textbooks between us and also sat on the bed.
“What do you want to start with?” she asked, flipping through the pages of her homework notebook. She was so pretty when she put a pencil between her full lips, a thoughtful expression furrowing her dark brow. And she had these long, thick, black lashes, which would throw shadows on her rosy cheek. A strand of silky hair broke loose from the bun she always wore above her neck, and she blew it off her face, an adorable childish habit she had never gotten rid of. How did I fail to notice all these things before?
I pulled the open textbook away from her hands and hid it behind my back, anticipating her reaction. I loved playing this game with her; we always played it, only now it was all very different.
“Ernst, give it back!” Dalia smiled and held her hand open, waiting for her book.
“Kiss me, and I will.”
“Ernst!” She blushed. “What if Papa comes up here and sees us?”
“We’ll hear the steps squeaking and we’ll know that he’s coming.”
She tried to grab the book from behind my back, but now I sat on it. “Kiss me, or you’re not going to see your precious little textbook for a long time.”
“Ernst!”
She tried to make big scornful eyes at me, but I just shrugged and crossed my arms over my chest.
“Fine. One kiss, but that’s all you’re getting.” She quickly pecked me on my cheek and stretched her hand out for the book again.
“Don’t even think about it.” I laughed, pushing her hand away. “That was not a kiss.”
“It so was!”
“What am I, five? My mother kisses me like that. I want a real kiss.”
“Ernst!”
“What? The sooner you do it, the sooner we’ll get back to that stupid homework of yours.”
She faked hesitation and reluctance, shifting on the bed and straightening out her skirt over her knees, lowering her eyes
, sighing, and finally slowly leaning closer and slightly pressing her mouth to mine. She did not open her lips at first; I felt like I had to force her to finally open her mouth and let me really kiss her, even though in her mind we were doing something very, very bad.
She started pushing me off as soon as I dragged her onto my lap and held her body tight against mine. I loved feeling the weight of her body on me, especially where she was sitting now. If only she wasn’t wearing this damn dress… I slid my hand under her long skirt, but she caught it with her hands right above her knee, on top of the silk black stockings she was wearing.
“Ernst, stop it!” Dalia whisper-screamed at me, struggling with my hand and putting her skirt back in order.
I pulled her close again, even though she kept pressing both hands against my chest, and kissed her again, on her sweet lips, on her neck and back on her lips again, until she relaxed her arms and put them around my neck. I could feel that she liked it when I kissed her neck, as she arched her back seductively, with her eyes closed and her lips slightly parted, whispering my name… It was doing something to me, it made me crave her lean body with a hunger that simple kissing wouldn’t satisfy.
I unbuttoned the collar of her dress and pulled the neckline down her shoulder, kissing the soft skin on her collarbone. And since my hand was right there, I moved it on top of her full, round breast and held it firmly, until she realized where I was touching her, slapping my hand and jumping off my lap.
“Ernst!” Dalia whisper-screamed once again, trying to close her dress in the back. “Don’t you ever do that again!”
But I did, as soon as she drew both hands backwards to button her dress, only now I put both hands on her chest. How could I not, when it was so round and perfect, and I just wanted to keep touching it…
“Ernst!!! Stop it!”
I silenced her with a kiss, and since she didn’t want me to touch her, she could touch me instead, I thought, so I caught her hand and put it between my legs. She gasped in shock when she felt what was under her hand, and tried to pull her wrist away, but I forced it back on my hard flesh and stroked it with my hand on top of hers.
“Please, Dalia,” I begged her, but she yanked her hand out of mine and jumped off the bed.
“Get out!” She was still whispering, even though she looked really mad. “How could you even… Get out of my house! And never come back!”
“Dalia, no.” I got off the bed too and walked up to her. She made two steps back. I stretched my hands out to embrace her. “Dalia, please, I’m sorry. It must be the wine… and you. You make me feel this way.”
I tried to give her the most disarming of my smiles, but it didn’t seem to work this time.
“Don’t blame it on the wine, and most certainly, don’t blame it on me! I didn’t want to kiss you in the first place!”
“But Dalia, I love you.” I didn’t mean to say that I loved her – I wasn’t even sure I did – but the words jumped out of my mouth even before I could think of what I was saying.
Dalia went silent for a moment; she was still frowning, and her black eyes were still sparkling with anger, but finally her face softened a little.
“You don’t love me, you just want to get under my skirt.” She gave her verdict and folded her arms on her chest.
“No! I mean, well, that would be nice at some point, but I do love you! Honestly!”
She allowed me to stay that evening on the condition that we would do homework and only homework, and that I would keep my hands and everything else to myself. Back home, under the thin blanket, listening closely to my brothers’ even snoring, I helped myself with what Dalia didn’t want to help me with, and I contemplated whether I had meant what I said.
I guess I did love her… I wasn’t sure, but again, she was the first girl who I’d known so closely. She was my closest friend, and it’s not like I knew what love between a man and a woman should be like. If I wanted her so, did it mean that I loved her? Or was she right in her assumption that it was a purely physical attraction and nothing else? One thing I was certain of: with her strict upbringing she would never allow me to do what I wanted to do to her, unless we were to be married. Then, probably, if I put a ring on her finger and announced our engagement, she would be more lenient to her future husband.
I smiled at the thought of being someone’s husband; I liked how it sounded at the same time. If I was able to take care of my family for over four years without anyone’s support, I could easily take care of one woman. We would have to wait three more years, until I was eighteen and could get married, but if we were engaged, there wouldn’t be anything wrong with us sleeping together, would there? It’s not like I would break the engagement at some point… I couldn’t imagine anyone else in her place anyway.
I smiled even wider at the thought of how long the faces of my classmates would be when I announced that I was engaged. Most of them didn’t even have a girlfriend yet. And then I thought of my father and his words about Dalia: “Don’t you ever come close to that Jew ever again!” Well, he would just have to live with this one. I wasn’t a little child anymore, who could be told what to do. I was sure that with time, when he got to know her and her family, he’d love her too. I was sure that he’d understand.
_______________
Prison hospital, Nuremberg, November 1945
“I understand that your relationship was a little more personal than that of a chief and his subordinate?”
He dug out her file from somewhere after all, son of a bitch. He just wouldn’t leave her out of it, would he now?
I kept my eyes closed for two reasons: number one was that even the sunlight was giving me the severest of headaches, and number two, Dr. Gilbert’s face was doubling that headache, even without him talking. He often just stood there, by my bed and stared at me, while I pretended to be sleeping or unconscious. God only knows why. Maybe he was contemplating putting a pillow on my face and enact revenge for what I did to Austria and his people in particular. I wouldn’t blame him.
“Herr Kaltenbrunner?”
“What?”
“Annalise Friedmann. She was your personal secretary, wasn’t she?”
“I guess you already know the answer to that question. Why ask me?”
“I’m not asking about her official position, I’m asking about your relationship.”
“And why are you so interested if I was sleeping with my secretary, Dr. Gilbert?” I tried to put as much sarcasm as I could in my voice, to make him believe that for me she was nothing. Just another pretty girl, who I got into my bed. To throw him off track. Good thing that my hands were under the blanket, because after what had happened to me I couldn’t quite control my emotions. My hands would slightly shake if something bothered me, and I was glad that the psychiatrist couldn’t see them now.
“Someone says she was pregnant with your child.” He paused, piercing me with his eyes, looking for clues on my face. I used my best effort in keeping it emotionless. “Someone says you were very happy and proud of it.”
Why didn’t you suffocate me with that pillow when you had the chance, you bastard? You’re saying that we were torturers? How about bringing me newspapers with pictures of more executed SS soldiers, Dr. Gilbert? How about rubbing my nose daily into the fact that I’ll join them soon? How about smiling when you say that I deserved it all? How about interrogating me now, in the damn hospital, about my woman and my child, when I can’t even defend myself properly?!
“Let me guess who your source of information is, doctor.” I even managed a poisonous smile. “Walther Schellenberg, the high and mighty former chief of SD-Ausland, Himmler’s shadow, always scheming and known as the most informed intelligence agent in the former Reich? Well, allow me to disappoint you. My former immediate subordinate hates my guts and will most likely ask you for a front row seat on the day of my execution. He’s not the man I’d listen to, if I were you.”
“I don’t understand your hostile attitude, Herr Kaltenbrunner.
If she was your secretary and an official member of the SS, she could testify in your defense. We just can’t seem to find her. Do you know where she might be? It would help you greatly with your case.”
I laughed, even though my head felt like it was going to explode from the inside any second now. Recovering from a brain hemorrhage, even from such a mild one as my doctor reassured me, hurt like hell.
“If she’s a member of the SS, you would try her too, doctor. But not before you try to get all my confessions out of me, threatening me with her execution, and all information out of her concerning me, threatening her with my execution. How stupid would I be to tell you where she is? Besides, you’re wasting your time anyway. She’s of no use to you anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
“She’s dead, Dr. Gilbert. Died with her husband during an air raid during the last days of the war. The OSS team recovered their identities from their military seals. Contact your superiors and verify it if you want. And don’t waste my time anymore. I’m tired and want to sleep.”
He didn’t know about her, I could tell by how uncomfortably he swallowed and how he quickly averted his eyes. He had tried his luck, and based it on the pieces of her file he had found and from what Schellenberg had told him, no more than that. I watched him leave and only after sighed with relief. She was alive, but more importantly, safe.
_______________
Linz, March 1919
“We are alive and safe, but that’s about it.”
My father took a long drag on his cigarette and immediately went into a violent coughing fit. He was treated for his shrapnel wounds and they didn’t bother him too much since he came back. Instead, it was his lungs that suffered the most. During one of his offensive operations, while our own frontline was successfully cutting into the enemy lines forcing them out of the tranches with mustard gas, an unfortunate gust of wind turned the remains of the poisonous clouds against the ones using them.
The Austrian: A War Criminal's Story Page 7