by Renee Duke
“This is a second holiday,” said Jack. “Our parents liked the first one so much, they decided to come back.”
“Are they here with you?”
“No. They’re in Munich. They let us take a bus here to spend the day with some people we know. Unfortunately, they’re not home. Things must have got mixed up somehow and they thought we were coming on a different day.”
“Of course they are not home. Few here would be home on such a day.”
“Oh? That’s too bad. Leaves us at a bit of a loose end. I say, Marta, your English seems to have improved a lot.”
“I have studied hard with my grandfather. Also, there is an American lady in Unterammergau with whom I have been practicing.” Her lips curled slightly. “I will not be bested by an ignorant, to use your word, ‘Gypsy’.”
“Not the best of motives, but whatever works,” said Paige, choosing, for the moment, to pass over this slur. “Have you seen Nicko since we were at Neuschwanstein?”
“He has visited Hani several times, at our home,” the oldest of the other two girls said. She smiled. “You must be the English children Marta and Hani told us of. I am their older sister. My name is Frieda. These others are Gustav, our brother, and Elsa Gruber, our cousin. We are pleased to meet you. Our parents wished also to meet you. They were most annoyed Marta did not bring you to Schloss Neuschwanstein with her.”
“That was our fault,” Dane said quickly, before Marta could protest. “We had to get back to the village.”
“Where’s Hani?” Jack asked.
Frieda’s smile vanished. “Hani is not here. The house behind is the house of Elsa’s family. Her father, our Onkel Gottfried, invited us because he has, for us, a great surprise. But he does not like to look upon such as Hani, and did not invite her.”
“Many do not like to look upon such as Hani,” Marta muttered.
“And those who do not can be unkind,” said Gustav, glaring at his middle sister. “Hani is at home, but Mutti said we must come because Tante Vera is her sister and she had asked it. If we had not agreed to put on our best clothes and come as requested, Onkel Gottfried would have been angry with her. Already he is angry because she cannot persuade our parents to make us join the Hitler-Jugend like our cousin Emil.”
He nodded in the direction of a blond-haired boy who was making his way toward them. He was about the same age as Gustav, but stockier, and clad in a Hitler Youth uniform. Like many boys of the time, Gustav’s hair was quite short, but Emil’s military-style buzz cut was even shorter.
“I cannot understand why you do not wish to join the Hitler-Jugend,” Marta said to her brother. “Me, I cannot wait. Heil Hitler, Emil.” She raised her right arm in the Nazi salute.
“Heil Hitler,” Emil responded, returning the salute.
Frieda introduced the newcomers and requested that Emil speak in English.
“Why are you not with the other Jungvolk, Emil?” Gustav asked.
“Vati told me to be here, and I received permission. It is, I think, to do with the surprise. What the surprise is, I do not know. Today is momentous enough without surprises.”
“What’s so momentous about it?” Dane inquired. “What’s everyone around here waiting for?”
“The glorious arrival of the Passionspiele’s most special guest,” said Marta. “From all over the world, people come to see the Passionspiele. Some are very important people, but today the most important person of all comes.”
“And comes now,” said Elsa, pointing.
Farther down the street, people were cheering, saluting, and waving their flags as the lead car of a car cavalcade came into view. The car was an open one, and in the front, standing beside the driver, someone in a dark suit was waving to the crowd. As the car came closer, features became clearer, and recognition sent an instant chill down Paige, Dane, and Jack.
It was Adolf Hitler.
Chapter Six
Marta, Elsa, and Emil immediately executed perfect Nazi salutes and began to wave their flags vigorously. Frieda and Gustav did not salute, and waved their flags with less enthusiasm. But flag waving of any degree stopped when, to all the children’s astonishment, the lead car pulled up in front of them.
As Hitler got out of it, a man and woman came from somewhere in the crowd and greeted the German leader in a respectful, almost grovelling manner.
“Onkel Gottfried and Tante Vera,” Frieda whispered to Paige and the boys. “Onkel Gottfried must have asked that the Führer stop for us. He is a good Nazi, much thought of in the party. But I did not know he was so thought of as to be able to ask such a thing as this.”
After Onkel Gottfried had introduced his own children to the Führer, he introduced his nephew and nieces. For a moment, Marta could do little more than stare in wonder at her idol. Recovering herself with a start, she joined Frieda and Elsa in making a curtsey. Emil and Gustav both bowed. This was the customary way for German children of the time to greet any adult, but extra effort would be expected for this adult.
Hitler acknowledged all of them, and even spoke briefly to each. He then looked around, carefully studying some of the other people nearby. Almost immediately, his intense gaze came to rest on Jack.
Moving across to him he said, “Und hier ist ein wahrer arischer Junge. Wie alt bist du, Junge?”
No longer overwhelmed, and anxious that Hitler not be kept waiting for an answer, Marta nudged Jack and said, “He says you are a true Aryan boy, and asks how old you are.”
“N-nine,” stammered Jack.
The English number was obviously close enough to the German version to be comprehended.
“Ach, sehr gut.” Said Hitler. “Bald wirst du alt genug sein, um meinem Jungvolk beizutreten.”
The dark brows above Hitler’s pale, but magnetic, almost mesmerizing, blue eyes lifted slightly when Jack offered no reply.
Hastily stepping forward, Marta said, “Er ist ein Engländer, mein Führer. Er spricht nur Englisch.”
“Sprichst du Englisch, mein Kind?”
“Ja, mein Führer.”
“Dann übersetze, bitte. Sag ihm, er ist willkommen in unserem Land. Wir Deutsche bewundern die Engländer.”
Marta nodded and gave Jack an encouraging smile, “When I told the Führer that you are English, and speak only English, he asked me to translate. He says to tell you that you are welcome in our country and that we Germans much admire the English. Before that he said that you would soon be old enough to join the Jungvolk. But since you are not German, that of course does not apply.”
“Umm…uh…danke,” said Jack, still uncharacteristically tongue-tied.
Hitler then patted him on the head, gave all of the children, including Paige and Dane, an approving nod, and turned to go back to his car, shaking hands with several people on the way.
Before he reached it, a small dog broke away from its owner and ran up to him, its tail wagging. Stooping, he petted it and allowed it to nuzzle his hand before getting into the car. As soon as he was in standing position, the car moved off, his escort following in their own cars and many people in the crowd following on foot. Those who stayed stood looking at the favoured family—and the owner of the dog—with a mixture of awe and envy.
Oblivious to them, Marta gave a long, rapturous, sigh and beamed at her uncle. “Ach, Dankeschön, Onkel Gottfried, Dankeschön! Das war der schönste Moment meines Lebens.”
Her uncle smiled broadly in return and looked expectantly at Frieda and Gustav, who both responded with a polite, “Dankeschön, Onkel Gottfried.”
Marta turned to Paige, Dane, and Jack. “I told Onkel Gottfried that that was the most wonderful moment of my life. I spoke in German because Onkel Gottfried does not speak English. Not even a little. He says German is all that good Germans should speak, but I think, in this, he is wrong. Because of knowing English, I was able to be of help to the Führer!”
“We’re thrilled for you,” said Paige, reasonably certain that Marta’s English did not yet extend to sarcasm
. “You okay?” she asked a pale Jack.
Jack nodded. “Just still a bit unnerved.”
“As would anyone be who has, by the Führer, been personally noticed,” said Marta. “For we others, it was arranged, but to you the Führer came by choice.”
“Something I’m sure Jack is going to remember pretty much forever,” Paige remarked.
An inquiry from Tante Vera regarding the identity of her nephew and nieces’ friends prompted Frieda to make the necessary introductions, after which she declined an invitation to join the Gruber family for a meal.
“Why did you refuse?” Marta demanded after the Grubers had gone into their house.
“Because, as I told her, we promised to return home after seeing the Führer pass by.”
“But I wished to talk to Onkel Gottfried and Tante Vera. There is much to talk about after what has happened today.”
“Go in and talk, then. I will give you ten minutes. But then you are coming home with us. Mutti and Vati would not want you to take the train by yourself, and we are leaving.”
There followed a heated exchange in German pertaining, Paige and Dane assumed, and Jack later confirmed, to Frieda and Gustav’s meanness, ignorance, and lack of respect for their uncle on one side, and Marta’s contrariness, naïveté, and lack of respect for their parents on the other. It ended with Marta flouncing off into the house.
Watching her, Frieda said. “I apologize. We should not, in front of you, argue so. We should most probably not argue so at all. It does no good. She is young, and very much wants to believe what Onkel Gottfried and others have told her about the Führer and the Nazi party.”
“What about your cousins?” Paige queried. “And your aunt?”
“Emil and Elsa mostly believe as she does. Tante Vera not so much. But she is a good wife, and does not like to disagree with her husband.”
At that point Marta stuck her head out of the door and said, “I am staying here. Onkel Gottfried says he will bring me home later. In his automobile.”
Frieda sighed. “As you please.”
“It is perhaps best,” said Gustav. “If she talks and talks with Onkel Gottfried about meeting the Führer, she will talk less to Mutti and Vati. And that is good, because Mutti and Vati will not wish to hear her talk so.”
“Didn’t they know what the surprise was going to be?” Paige asked.
“No,” Frieda replied. “They knew only that the Führer would be going by Onkel Gottfried’s house today. They agreed to let us watch because Tante Vera asked them to, and, for her sake, they sometimes agree to things of which they do not approve.”
“And they do not much approve of the Führer,” said Gustav. “Vati says some of what the Führer does is good, but some is not, and there is getting to be too much control. Onkel Gottfried’s surprise will not please him.”
“Had he known what was planned, we would not be here,” said Frieda. “We would be at home with Hani. Would you like to come home with us? You have nothing else to do, and this is something our parents would very much like. Hani, also. She speaks of you often.”
“Well…” Jack paused, considering. “Well, I suppose we could. Buses to Munich probably run from Unterammergau as often as they do from Oberammergau.”
He looked at Paige and Dane, who nodded.
“Oh, but wait. You came by train. We only have enough money for the bus. Not for a train as well,” said Jack, who was carrying some pre-war German currency he’d taken from his coin collection.
“I have enough for all,” Frieda assured him. “Please. As I said, Mutti and Vati would very much like to meet you.”
“We’d like to meet them, too,” said Paige. “And see Hani again.”
The train took the children to Unterammergau in less than ten minutes. En route to the Reitzel house they came upon four wooden caravans sitting in an open field. Freed from the shafts, horses grazed contentedly while people moved about setting up camp.
“Look, Frieda—a Zigeuner camp,” said Gustav. “They were not here when we left this morning. Perhaps it is Nicko’s family.”
“Nicko’s family is not nomadic. They live in a house in or near München.”
“I know they do, but he told me that, at times, they travel about, and for this they have caravans. That boy with his back to us could be Nicko.”
He made to move toward the field, but Frieda put out a hand to stop him. “No. Even if it is Nicko’s family, they know us not, and while he is friendly, Zigeuner do not always like those who are not Zigeuner.”
“Otherwise known as gadje,” said Paige, nodding. “I don’t know a lot about Gypsies, but I remember reading somewhere that the Gypsy word for non-Gypsies is ‘gadje’. And they don’t especially like us. Or trust us. Which is understandable, because we sure haven’t treated them very well down through the ages.”
Frieda smiled. “Nicko trusts us more now than he did at first, I think. And likes us. Especially Hani. Marta, not so much, and for this I do not blame him. If our parents are not nearby, she can be most rude to those she considers beneath her. It bothers her that Mutti and Vati think so highly of Nicko for what he did. They always make him most welcome when he comes to visit.”
“As he now makes us,” said Gustav. “Look.”
He pointed. Having turned and seen them, Nicko had come to the edge of the field and was beckoning to them.
“So, you are still in Germany,” he said as Paige and the boys drew level with him.
“We left and came back,” said Paige. “Is that your family over there in those caravans?”
“Yes. My father says I may bring you. Come.”
Nicko’s family consisted of his parents, whom he introduced only as Gunter and Kezia; his two brothers, Silvester—known as Vester, and Delomar—known as Delo; five sisters, Magdalena—known as Lena, Ava, Anya, Rosa, and Nadya; his paternal grandmother, Zigana; two paternal uncles, Onkel Othi and Onkel Poldi; and Onkel Poldi’s sixteen-year-old son, Drogo. Eighteen-year old Lena was married to a handsome youth called Philo and was already the mother of a baby girl, Kreszentia, known as Zensi. Nicko’s next oldest sibling, Vester, was two years younger than Lena, and Ava and Anya were twins of thirteen. The other children were all younger than Nicko, with Delo being eight, Nadya, three, and Rosa—the sister Nicko had told Hani about—close to seven.
Though the young gadje could all sense they were being scrutinized by everyone in the camp, it was Rosa’s dark eyes that seemed to scrutinize them the most. And the rest of the family visibly relaxed when, seemingly satisfied, she gave them a warm smile and offered Paige and Frieda some flowers she had picked.
Most of them then dispersed to return to various chores, leaving only Nicko and the younger Gypsy children to seat themselves on the grass in front of one of the caravans and engage in conversation with the strangers.
“This camp was not here when went to Oberammergau this morning,” said Frieda. “When did you come, Nicko?”
“About an hour ago,” he replied. “I was planning to visit Hani later today, or perhaps tomorrow. She is well?”
“Yes. Though a bit downhearted when we went off to Oberammergau without her. We had no choice,” she added hastily. “She makes the uncle who lives there uncomfortable. He sometimes tolerates her presence, but not today. Today would have been a very bad day for Hani to be at his house.”
She told Nicko about Onkel Gottfried’s surprise.
“Marta, of course, was ecstatic. He has filled her head with many wrong ideas. Ideas our parents do not like. It is those ideas that make her…that make her the way she is with you.”
Nicko shrugged, “Many are that way. Most, in fact.”
“Not us,” Gustav protested. “Not the rest of us.”
“No,” said Nicko. “You are good people.” He smiled. “For gadje.”
“We try,” said Dane. “Say, don’t you have a surname, Nicko? I think it would be more respectful for us to call your parents Herr Something and Frau Something.”
> “The name is Brase,” said Nicko’s mother, who was stirring a pot nearby. “But respect for us is rare, boy. Gunter and Kezia will do. And Zigana for the old woman. She doesn’t speak English, by the way. With the exception of Gunter, neither do her sons. And Philo and Drogo only know a few words.”
“You’re very well-spoken,” said Jack. “Not just as regards English, because Nicko told us you are English, but your way of speaking is…is…”
“Not what you would expect from a Gypsy? Even an English Gypsy?” She gave a wry smile and came to sit on the steps of the caravan. “I wasn’t always a Gypsy. Not a full Gypsy like my mother. My father was an English gadjo of some means. Her parents weren’t pleased when she left the family to marry him, but took her back after he died. I was thirteen then, and my brother Jimmy eight. We adapted well enough to Gypsy life but I remember my other life, too; the one my father’s family was no longer willing to let me share. I wasn’t fully accepted by my mother’s people either, but when I was fifteen, Gunter and one of his uncles came to England to trade horses. We got married, and after Lena was born, I returned to Germany with him.”
“Was his family more accepting?” Paige asked, intrigued.
Nicko’s mother shook her head. “No, but not just because I wasn’t a full Gypsy. I was also not of their tribe. And English to boot. This caused a rift. Gunter’s father had died and his mother didn’t especially like me. Even so, she supported him against his grandfather and numerous other relatives. She told them the family could do with some fresh blood. Being a healer, she was held in high regard, but while most of them listened to her, a few still chose to make life unpleasant. When Gunter and I decided to leave the family group and go our own way, Zigana came with us. So did Othi who you will doubtless notice is a little…slow, but devoted to his mother and Gunter. And wiser, in some ways, than many think. Poldi and Drogo joined us later, after they ran afoul of the grandfather, too.”
“Wow, that sounds like one of my mother’s stories. She’s a writer,” Paige added by way of explanation.