HHhH: A Novel

by Laurent Binet

  118

  That same day, two great leaders of the Czech Resistance are executed: General Josef Bilý and Major General Hugo Vojta. They were found guilty of fomenting an armed uprising. Before his death, General Bilý shouts: “Long live the Czechoslovak Republic! Now shoot me, you dogs!” These two men—yes, two more—do not really have a role to play in my story. But I felt it would be disrespectful not to even mention their names.

  Along with Bilý and Vojta, nineteen former Czech army officers are killed, four of them generals. The crackdown begins in the days that follow. A state of emergency is declared throughout the country. All gatherings, indoors or out, are forbidden in accordance with martial law. The courts now have only two options, whatever the charges: acquittal or death. Czechs are sentenced to death for distributing pamphlets, selling goods on the black market, or simply listening to foreign radio stations. Each new law is announced by a red poster in two languages, and soon the town’s walls are filled with them. The Czechs learn quickly who their new master is.

  And the Jews, of course, learn even more quickly. On September 29, Heydrich closes all the synagogues and announces the arrest of any Czechs who, in protest against the recent law forcing Jews to wear a yellow star, decide to sport them in sympathy. In France, a year later, there will be similar shows of solidarity, and anyone imprudent enough to take part will be deported “with their Jewish friends.” In the Protectorate, however, all of this is only a prelude.

  119

  On October 2, 1941, at Czernin Palace—now the Savoy Hotel—situated at the end of the castle’s enclosure, Heydrich sets out his political creed as interim Protector of Bohemia and Moravia. Standing with his hands on a wooden pulpit, his iron cross hanging over his heart, his wedding ring visible on his left hand, he addresses the leaders of the occupation forces. He wishes to educate his compatriots:

  “For tactical reasons relating to the war, we should not provoke the Czechs into action, nor push them to the point where revolt seems their only option.”

  This is the first aspect of his policy. There are only two: the carrot and the stick. The stick comes next, although the dialectical balance between the two is uncertain:

  “The Reich will not be mocked, and the Reich is master in its own house. This means that no German should let a Czech get away with anything, in the same way that no Jew should be allowed to get away with anything in the Reich. No German should say that a Czech is a decent person. If someone says that, we should expel them. If we don’t form a united front against Czechness, the Czech will find a way to cheat us.”

  After that, Heydrich—who is unaccustomed to making public speeches, and is certainly no Cicero—moves to the illustratio:

  “No German can allow himself to be seen smashed in public. Let’s be frank about this: we can get drunk, and we can relax—nobody has anything against that—but we must do it within four walls or in the officers’ mess. The Czech must see that the German holds himself straight, in both military and civil life. He must see that we are the master, the lord, from head to toe.”

  After this odd example, the speech becomes more specific—and more threatening.

  “I want to make the citizens of this country understand, without any ambiguity and with an unshakable firmness, that they are part of the Reich—and, as such, owe their allegiance to the Reich. This is an absolute priority dictated by the imperatives of war. I want to be certain that each Czech worker gives his all to help the German war effort. To be clear, this means that the Czech worker will be provided for according to how well he works.”

  Having dealt with the social and economic aspects, the new interim Protector now moves on to the racial question. He can, after all, justifiably claim to be one of the Reich’s first specialists on this subject:

  It is obvious that our approach to the Czech people must be completely different to that of other races, such as the Slavs. The Czechs of Germanic origin should be treated firmly but with justice. We must guide them with the same humanity we show our own people if we wish to keep them in the Reich for good, and to make them mix with us. In order to decide who is fit for Germanization, I need to make a racial inventory.

  We have all kinds of people here. For those who are of a good race and are well-disposed toward us, things are simple: they will be Germanized. At the other end of the spectrum—those of inferior races with hostile intentions—we must get rid of them. There’s plenty of room for them in the East.

  Between these two extremes, there are others whose cases we must look at more carefully. There are racially inferior people who are favorably disposed toward us. This type can be moved, whether in the Reich or elsewhere, but we must ensure that they do not reproduce, as we have no interest in their development. In the long term, these non-Germanizable elements—who we estimate at about half the population—can be transferred later to the Arctic, where we are building concentration camps for the Russians.

  That leaves us with one group: those who are racially acceptable but ideologically hostile. These are the most dangerous, because they belong to a race of leaders. We should ask ourselves very seriously what should be done with them. Some can be rehoused within the Reich, in a purely German environment, in order to reeducate and Germanize them. If that proves impossible, we must put them up against the wall. We cannot allow them to be sent to the East, where they might form a class of leaders who could turn against us.

  I think he’s covered all the bases there. Notice, by the way, this discreet and euphemistic metonymy: “to the East.” Although his audience doesn’t know it, what Heydrich means by this is “to Poland,” and more specifically “to Auschwitz.”

  120

  On October 3 in London, the free Czechoslovak press formally records a change of politics in Prague with this headline:

  “Mass Murders in the Protectorate.”

  121

  One of Heydrich’s men was already running things there two years before. In 1939, Eichmann—having done such a good job in Austria—found himself in charge of the central office for Jewish emigration in Prague before being promoted to head of Jewish affairs at the RSHA in Berlin. Today, he returns to Prague at his master’s summons. But in two years things have really changed. From now on, when Heydrich organizes a conference, it is no longer to discuss “emigration” but “the Final Solution of the Jewish question” in the Protectorate. These are the facts: 88,000 Jews live in the Protectorate, of whom 48,000 are in Prague, 10,000 in Brno, and 10,000 in Ostrava. Heydrich decides that Terezín will be the ideal transportation camp. Eichmann takes notes. Transportation will be quick—two or three trains a day, with a thousand people on each train. Following the tried-and-tested method, each Jew will be allowed to take one piece of luggage (without padlock) containing up to fifty kilos of personal belongings. In order to simplify the Germans’ task, he should also carry enough food to last him between two and four weeks.

  122

  Newspaper and radio reports relay developments in the Protectorate to London. Sergeant Jan Kubiš listens as a parachutist friend tells him about the situation in his homeland. Murders, murders, murders. What else? Since Heydrich’s arrival, every day is a day of mourning. People are deported, tortured, hanged. What monstrous new details have plunged Kubiš into this state of shock today? He shakes his head and, like a stuck record, repeats: “How is it possible? How is it possible?”

  123

  I went to Terezín once. I wanted to see the place where the poet Robert Desnos died. Coming from Auschwitz, and passing through Buchenwald, Flossenburg, and Flöha, he ended up—on May 8, 1945—at the liberated camp of Terezín. But during the long, exhausting death marches that preceded this, he caught the typhus that would kill him. He died on June 8, 1945—in death as he was in life: free—in the arms of two young Czech nurses, a man and a woman, who loved surrealism and admired his works. Another story I could write a whole book about: the two young nurses were called Josef and Alena …

  Terezín—Theresiensta
dt in German—was “a fortified town built by the Empress of Austria to defend the Bohemian quarter from the grasp of the Prussian king Frederick II.” Which empress? I don’t know. I’m borrowing this sentence—because I like it—from Pierre Volmer, Desnos’s companion and the witness of his final days. Maria Theresa? Of course—Theresienstadt, the town of Theresa.

  In November 1941, Heydrich turns the town into a ghetto—and the barracks into a concentration camp.

  But this is not all there is to say about Terezín. Far from it.

  Terezín was not like the other ghettos.

  It was used as a transportation camp: the Jews there were waiting to be deported eastward, to Poland or the Baltic countries. The first convoy left for Riga on January 9, 1942: a thousand people, of whom 105 would survive. The second convoy, a week later, also went to Riga: a thousand people, 16 survivors. The third, in March: a thousand people, 7 survivors. The fourth: a thousand people, 3 survivors. There is nothing unusual in this dreadful numerical progression toward 100 percent. It is just another sign of the Germans’ famous efficiency.

  But while the deportations continue, Terezín has to function as a Propagandalager—a showcase ghetto for the eyes of foreign observers. The ghetto’s inhabitants must put on a good show during visits from the International Red Cross.

  At Wannsee, Heydrich announces that German Jews decorated in the First World War, German Jews over the age of sixty-five, and certain famous Jews—the Prominenten, too famous to disappear overnight without a trace—should be kept at Terezín, in decent conditions. This is done out of consideration for German public opinion, somewhat aghast by 1942 at the politics of the monster it has nurtured since 1933.

  In order for Terezín to work as an alibi, the Jews must appear well treated. This is why the Nazis allow them to have a relatively well developed cultural life, with art and theater encouraged—under the vigilant control of the SS, which asks everyone to wear their most winning smiles. And it works. The Red Cross representatives, impressed by their visits, report very positively on the ghetto, its culture, and the treatment of prisoners. Of the 140,000 Jews who will live in Terezín during the war, only 17,000 will survive. Kundera writes of them:

  They were under no illusions: they were living in death’s antechamber; their cultural life was exhibited by Nazi propaganda as an alibi; but should that be a reason to refuse freedom, however precarious and fraudulent? Their response was utterly clear: their creations, their art shows, their concerts, their loves, the whole array of their lives were incomparably more important than their jailers’ macabre theatrics. That was their wager.

  In conclusion, he adds: “It should be ours, too.”

  124

  You don’t need to be head of the secret services to see that President Beneš is extremely worried. London constantly evaluates the contribution to the war effort made by the various underground movements in the occupied countries. And while France—thanks to Operation Barbarossa—is benefiting from the input of Communist groups, the Czech Resistance is practically nonexistent. Since Heydrich took control, the Czech underground movements have fallen one by one, and the few that remain have largely been infiltrated by the Gestapo. This ineffectiveness puts Beneš in a very uncomfortable position: as it stands, even if the Allies are victorious, Britain will not want to listen to a discussion about revoking the Munich Agreement. This means that, even in victory, Czechoslovakia would be restored only to its September 1938 frontiers, with the Sudetenland amputated, leaving it far from its original territorial integrity.

  Something must be done. Colonel Moravec listens as his president moans bitterly. This humiliating insistence with which the British compare Czech apathy with the patriotism of the French, the Russians, even the Yugoslavs! It can’t go on.

  But what to do? There’s no point ordering the internal Resistance to intensify its activities, given its disordered state. So the solution lies here, in Britain. Beneš’s eyes must have shone, and I imagine his fist banging the table as he explained to Moravec what he was thinking. A spectacular attack on the Nazis—an assassination prepared in the greatest secrecy by his parachute commandos.

  Moravec understands Beneš’s reasoning. The Resistance is dying, so reinforcements must be sent from abroad—armed men, well trained and motivated, who will accomplish a mission that sends out shock waves, nationally and internationally. It must impress the Allies by showing them that Czechoslovakia cannot be counted out, and at the same time it must stimulate Czech patriotism so that the Resistance can rise once again from the ashes. I say “Czech patriotism,” but I’m pretty sure that Beneš said “Czechoslovak.” I’m also pretty sure that he was the one who insisted that Moravec choose a Czech and a Slovak to carry out the operation. Two men to symbolize the indivisible unity of the two peoples.

  But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. First they must decide on a target. Moravec thinks straightaway of his namesake—Emanuel Moravec, the most collaborationist minister in the Protectorate, a sort of Czech Quisling. But his resonance is too local—no one beyond the country’s borders would care. Karl Hermann Frank is better known: his ferocity and his hatred of the Czechs is legendary—and besides, he’s a German, and a member of the SS. He could make a good target. Then again, if you’re going to choose a German, and a member of the SS …

  I can imagine what it must have meant—especially to Colonel Moravec, head of the Czech secret services—the idea of assassinating Obergruppenführer Heydrich: interim Protector of Bohemia and Moravia, Hangman of his people, Butcher of Prague … and also head of the German secret services, thus in some ways his opposite number.

  Yes. If you’re going to do something, do it properly. Why not Heydrich?

  125

  I read a brilliant book set against the backdrop of Heydrich’s assassination. It’s a novel written by a Czech, Jiří Weil, entitled Mendelssohn Is on the Roof.

  The title is taken from the first chapter, which reads almost like a joke. Some Czech workmen are on the roof of the Opera House in Prague in order to take down a statue of Mendelssohn, the composer, because he’s a Jew. The order has come directly from Heydrich, recently named Protector of Bohemia and Moravia, and a connoisseur of classical music. But there’s a whole row of statues on the roof, and Heydrich hasn’t specified which is Mendelssohn. Now, apart from Heydrich, it seems that nobody—even among the Germans—is capable of recognizing the Jewish composer. But nobody dares disturb Heydrich just for that. So the SS guards supervising the operation decide to point out the statue with the biggest nose. Well, they’re looking for a Jew, aren’t they? But—disaster!—the statue the workmen start to remove is actually Wagner!

  The mistake is narrowly avoided, and—ten chapters later—the statue of Mendelssohn is finally pulled down. In spite of their efforts not to damage it, the Czech workmen break one of its hands when they’re laying it on the ground. This comic story is based on fact: the statue of Mendelssohn really was knocked over in 1941, and (as in the novel) one of its hands was broken. I wonder if they stuck it back on again? In any case, the peregrinations of the poor SS guards in charge of removing the statue—imagined by a man who lived through this period—are an apex of burlesque typical of Czech literature, which is always imbued with this very particular kind of humor, sugarcoated yet subversive. Its patron saint is Jaroslav Hašek, immortal author of the adventures of the good soldier Švejk.

  126

  Moravec watches the parachute commandos being trained. Soldiers in combat fatigues run, jump, and shoot. He notices an agile, energetic little man who brings down all his opponents in hand-to-hand combat. He asks the instructor—an old Englishman who has served in the colonies—what this soldier is like with explosives. “An expert,” the Englishman replies. And with firearms? “An artist!” His name? “Jozef Gabčík.” A Slovak-sounding name. He is summoned immediately.

  127

  Colonel Moravec talks to the two parachutists selected for Operation Anthropoid: Sergeant Jozef Gabčík an
d Sergeant Anton Svoboda—a Slovak and a Czech, just as President Beneš wished.

  “You will know, from newspapers and the radio, about the insane murders being committed in our homeland. The Germans are killing the best of us. This state of affairs, however, is part and parcel of war, so there’s no point moaning or crying about it. We must fight.

  “In our homeland, our people have fought. But now they find themselves in a situation that limits their ability to do so anymore. It’s our turn to help them, from the outside. One of the tasks that must be performed as part of this outside help will be entrusted to you. October is the month of our national holiday—the saddest since we won our independence. We must commemorate this anniversary in a dazzling, devastating way. It has been decided that this will be done by an act that will go down in history—just as the murders committed against our people have done.

  “In Prague, there are two men who personify this mass extermination: Karl Hermann Frank and Heydrich, the new arrival. In our opinion, and in the opinions of our bosses, you must see to it that one of these two pays for everything—to show them that we’ll fight back, an eye for an eye. This is your mission. You must go back to our homeland, the two of you, so that you can support each other. This will be necessary because, for reasons that will become clear, this is a task you must complete without the collaboration of our compatriots. I mean to say that you won’t receive any real help until your mission has been accomplished. Afterward, you will get plenty of assistance from them. You must decide yourselves how to accomplish your mission, and how long it will take you to do so. You will be equipped with everything we are able to give you. But, for your part, you must act with prudence and consideration. I don’t need to repeat that your mission is of great historic importance and that the risks are high. To succeed, you must rely on your own skill. We’ll talk more about this when you come back from your special training. As I’ve said, the task is serious. You should therefore consider it with an open and loyal heart. If you have any doubts about what I’ve said, tell me.”