“Who’s there?” she asked.
“It’s me, Viktor.”
The door flung open and Elke began to cry, and then to laugh, and then cry again as she threw herself into his arms. Viktor found he was crying too. They kissed, and continually touched each other to be sure that the dream was real.
“You’re here…” she said.
“I’m here,” he whispered in her ear.
“Viktor, I missed you so much.”
“An hour never went by that I didn’t think of you. I am so glad to be here with you again…” he said, slamming the door and locking it. Then he lifted Elke into his arms; she was light as a child, and laid her on the bed.
“I have something I must tell you.” she said looking up into his eyes.
“Yes, go on…” he was suddenly afraid. Maybe she had found someone else, or changed her mind?
“I’m pregnant.”
He bent down and kissed her. “Oh, Elke,” he said, his voice husky with emotion. Never did he consider that the child might not be his.
She reached up and wiped a tear from his cheek. He was here. Viktor was here.
“We are going to have a wonderful life. Your new name is Edda Beckenbauer.”
“You got the papers?” she asked. At that moment, Elke decided that Viktor must never know that the child she carried might not be his. Why tell him? Why hurt him? What happened with Manny no longer meant anything to her. Together she and Viktor would raise this baby, and she would do everything she could to ensure the lifelong happiness of her husband and their child.
“Yes, I have them in my suitcase. You can feel free to travel with me back to Germany and meet my family,” he said, but he wanted to wait for a long time to let this thing with Olof settle before he ever set foot in Nazi-occupied territory.
Chapter 131
On a sunny Sunday morning in early September, in the year of 1939, Edda Beckenbauer married Viktor Hahn in St. Mary’s Catholic Church. They moved to Antwerp, where no one knew Elke by her real name. She would officially be Edda Hahn.
The couple found a small two-bedroom apartment above a bakery shop. They bought enough secondhand furniture to be comfortable, including a wooden crib, which Viktor sanded down and painted white. They made friends with a couple who lived upstairs with their three young children. The wife taught Edda to knit booties and blankets while she grew big waiting for the baby’s birth. Every Sunday, Viktor and Edda went to church with their upstairs neighbors and another couple who lived just a block away. Often the three couples shared dinners at each other’s homes and stayed to play games of cards, or just sip strong coffee and talk.
They began to feel safe, and as time passed Viktor let go of his fears. Edda could not work, and money was tight, but Viktor found a job working on repairing fishing boats. He missed going out to sea, but would not have traded his life with Edda to sail again.
That February, on a cold, snowy afternoon, in a small local hospital, Sepp Hahn came quietly into the world. A sweet infant who almost never cried, Sepp grew into a self-reliant one-year-old, capable of playing alone on his blanket on the floor while Edda cleaned the small apartment where they lived. When Edda looked at her son, as much as she wanted to she could not deny that he belonged to Manny. He was born with a full head of dark curls, and his eyes danced the same way Manny’s had. Both Edda and Viktor were blondes, but Viktor never seemed to notice; maybe he just assumed that the dark hair was a trait in Edda’s family tree. He bonded with the little boy and the two were as close as a father was and son could be. When Viktor arrived at home after a day of working, Sepp immediately raised his arms to request that his father pick him up and hold him. Viktor laughed and lifted the boy high in the air, making him laugh aloud. All during dinner, Viktor held his son on his lap, never tiring of the child or needing time to himself.
Enough time had passed for Viktor to feel comfortable returning to Germany. Although it was difficult, he forced thoughts of Olof from his mind. He wanted his family to know his wife and their son. So they planned a trip to coincide with his brother’s leave from the army, a reunion.
Viktor’s family took to Edda right away, and they adored little Sepp, who amused everyone with his childish antics. Nobody suspected Edda was really Elke, born a Jew. Although it was difficult for both Edda and Viktor when his brother Axel appeared wearing the uniform of the German army, neither said anything to the family. However, at night, alone in their room, they discussed their feelings.
“My family loves you.”
“I am glad. I love them too. However, it is hard for me to live this lie with them. I feel dishonest.”
“I know, but it is best that they never know. Can you forgive me for asking you to pose as something you are not? It is not only for my family, but we are in Germany. If you were discovered…”
“I can forgive you and I do. You are doing what is best for me, what is best for little Sepp, and us too. I have learned to live as a Gentile so that nobody ever suspects. It is good to know that we can travel back and forth to Germany without worry. We have wonderful Gentile friends and the priest at the church is a kind man. I like him very much. But seeing your brother wearing his uniform sends chills up my spine. I can’t help it. It is a constant reminder of everything.”
“Yes, I know. I feel the same way, but he’s my brother. What can I do? I don’t want to risk your safety telling them the truth. I know they are my family, but it is just better this way.”
She nodded. “I know you’re right.”
The following day, Edda went out for a walk. She needed the fresh air and time alone. Axel and his father had spent the better part of the morning discussing Hitler’s virtues, and how he’d saved Germany from ruin. It took everything she had for Edda to keep quiet. Viktor offered to accompany her but she refused. Her golden hair tossed in the wind as she tucked her hands into her pockets. It was a beautiful crisp day, and she had a lot to be grateful for. She may have given up her identity, but she was alive. And even more, she had a wonderful husband and a healthy son. What more was there to life?
Chapter 132
Viktor sat in the living room staring blankly out of the large picture window, watching the children across the street play tag. His mother was baking and the fragrance filled the air. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but his brother and his father were laughing about something. It felt good to be home, even if the conversations between his father and Axel were sometimes difficult to endure. He was glad that they loved his wife, his precious Edda, and he could see how much his son fulfilled a need for his aging parents. Sometimes, as hard as he tried not to, he still thought of her as his Elke.
“Come and taste this sauce. Tell me if it needs some more salt,” Viktor’s mother called to him.
He got up, and as he did he heard the most unnerving sound. It was the blaring horn of the Gestapo. It rang like a death bell and pierced his heart like a dagger. And for some reason it was getting louder, coming closer, then closer. Suddenly he wanted to break out, to run, but he felt as if he were locked in a cage.
“Come on, Viktor. Taste this for me, please.”
Had Olof told them something? Had they been waiting for him to come back to Germany? His heart pounded so hard he was afraid it might explode.
My God, where was Elke? He prayed that she would stay away. If she weren’t there, maybe they would take only him. But what if they told his family that she was a Jew? Axel could very well turn on her and report her as soon as she returned.
“Viktor…I keep calling you to come in the kitchen and taste this for me.” His mother peeked her head around the corner and looked into the living room.
He couldn’t move. The sound moved closer, louder. Closing in on him and then...it was deafening. So loud, it threatened to break his eardrums. His hands covered his ears as he looked out the window dreading what he knew he would see. The black Gestapo automobile had stopped right in front of his house. Two agents got out of the car wearing trench
coats. One lit a cigarette.
Chapter 133
Elke couldn’t wait to return home to Belgium. Viktor had enjoyed the visit so much and she was glad that she’d come, for his sake. It had been a good visit. Everyone had welcomed her with warmth and affection, but in truth, sitting across from Viktor’s brother in his SS uniform disturbed her greatly. It brought back the horrific memories of the men who’d come to the apartment she’d shared with her mother. Not only did she have unpleasant thoughts of the past, but she also felt the pain of her fellow Jews. And because she knew how much they suffered, she was overcome with guilt because it seemed to her that by living this lie she had betrayed her people. But the worst part of it all was that she wondered if Viktor’s family would be so accepting of her if they knew the truth.
As she walked along the brown and red cobblestone sidewalk, she thought about what a pretty country Germany was, especially here where Viktor had grown up, the streets so clean, the children so blond and well mannered. But even here, one could not miss the Nazi flags that hung from the windows or the pictures of Adolf Hitler over the storefronts. She found it hard to believe that a country that had been so filled with culture and knowledge could have turned into a land that forced ignorance upon its people, burning books, committing mass murders and falling under the demonic spell of a madman.
Chapter 134
Viktor’s mother walked over to him and shook him.
“Are you feeling all right?” She asked.
He could not speak. All he could do was nod his head.
“Why can’t you answer me? Viktor what is wrong with you?”
Then she looked out the window.
“That’s the Gestapo; they come to the neighborhood often just to investigate this or that. Did the siren upset you? It does sound like an ambulance. But no need to worry…”
Viktor nodded again, but could not turn his face away from the two men standing outside.
After crushing his cigarette, the Gestapo agent and his partner began to walk up the walkway to Viktor’s home. The clicking heels of their shoes could be heard through the window. Viktor felt sure he would soon pass out because he couldn’t catch his breath.
Then he saw one of the men look over at the address that was written on the side of the building.
“This is the wrong address, Rudolf. It’s next door,” the Gestapo agent said to his partner who nodded and squinted to read the numbers.
“Yes, you’re right,”Rudolf said. “It is next door.”
They walked across the lawn to the little cottage next door. For a few minutes no sound came from the house, only dead quiet. Then Viktor heard screaming, a commotion. His mother looked at him questioning.
The screams grew louder.
Now his mother bent down to look out the window just as the Gestapo agents dragged the woman who lived next door by her arm that looked dislocated. She fell and grabbed onto the Gestapo agent’s pants leg, crying and pleading. One of the agents took a pistol out of his pocket and hit her across the face. Then she was silent, lying on the grass as a pool of blood began to form around her head. But even more shocking, the other agent led three people away at gunpoint.
Viktor heard him say something but he couldn’t make out what he said. The only word that was clear to him was “Juden (Jew).”
“Oh my God,” Viktor’s mother said. “They were hiding Jews right next door, right under our noses.”
Viktor thought of Elke. He was hiding her right under their noses, wasn’t he? Suddenly Viktor said a silent prayer of thanks that they he and Edda, he must remember to call her Edda, were leaving for Belgium in the morning.
It had been a wonderful visit, but the time had come to say goodbye.
Chapter 135
Two weeks after Viktor and Edda returned to Belgium, a letter arrived addressed to Viktor, with no return address, only a postmark from Germany. Viktor had gone off to work when it arrived, so Edda opened it. It read:
My Brother,
I send this message to you at great risk to myself and to our parents. However, because you are my brother, because we shared the same womb and the blood that runs through our veins is the same, I am forced to take this risk. Listen to me and please heed my warning. You must never, under any circumstances return to Germany. Your friend Olof was arrested and tortured until he confessed his crime and named everyone involved, you and your wife included. Because of my position in the SS, I was notified, reprimanded also. However, I was fortunate; things could have gone far worse. Apparently, Olof was selling falsified papers. From what I gather, he had several other clients. When you came I already knew all of this, but I did not say anything. I felt that if you were aware that the authorities were looking for you, you might have become nervous and suspicious. If I had known you were coming I would have told you not to come. While you were here, I was on edge every minute, because if you had been caught, mother and father would have been arrested, and I might have been as well. You are probably wondering if I knew that your wife was a Jew when the two of you were here, and the answer is yes. But again, I did my best to cover for you. That was why I discouraged you from going to the pub that night that you wanted me to accompany you. I told you that I was ill because I knew that you would not go without me. Viktor, your wife is a lovely woman, but you have made a grave mistake and I am afraid it will cost you dearly. You should never have married a Jew. This will cause you a life of misery. Now you cannot come home, and I cannot associate with you. It is far too dangerous. I am sorry, my brother. Be well, be safe, and Goodbye.
Axel.
Edda read the letter over twice. Then she sunk down into a chair. Axel had never let on that he knew. She remembered that night that she and Viktor had wanted to go into town with his brother to have a few beers. Axel had discouraged it. It shocked her that he knew and yet had remained so cool and calm. Her hand went to her throat. She felt terribly guilty for all that she had taken away from Viktor: his family, his home. And now they would never be at peace. Every day for the rest of their lives they would have to be watching and looking behind them. The Nazis, just as the wolf in the story of the three little pigs, would always be just a few steps away from their door, waiting, knocking...
That night when Viktor returned from work, he read the letter. When he finished he laid it on the table. Then he ran his hand through his hair and looked at Edda who sat beside him.
“We must destroy this letter,” he said.
“I know,” Edda answered.
“And to ward off suspicion we must become a very active couple in the Christian community. Even more active than we are right now.”
“Yes,” she said.
Viktor nodded.
There was silence for several minutes. Viktor took her hand and rubbed it with his thumb. Then Viktor got up and took the letter. He lit it on fire and placed it in a metal soup pot. Then the couple watched as it burned. Neither spoke until the flames had consumed the paper, turning it to black ash.
Then in a very soft voice, barely a whisper, Edda asked, “Viktor…”
“Yes?”
“Are you sorry? Do you regret marrying me?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer, but she had to know.
He looked into her eyes. She saw the sadness in his face and guilt came over her.
“I’ve ruined your life,” she said.
He shrugged.
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m not,” he said taking her hand. “I love you. You are my wife, you are the mother of my son, and I don’t regret what I have done.”
She fell into his arms and wept.
Chapter 136
At the beginning of January, Edda found herself pregnant once again and expecting her second child in mid-September.
On the seventeenth of September, Irmgard Hahn was born. She would grow up to have her parents’ blonde hair and light eyes, and would be affectionately known to family and friends as Irma.
In early October of 1940, just a mon
th after the birth of their daughter, Edda and Viktor watched in horror as Hitler’s army invaded Belgium and broke right through the bubble of false security that they had built.
Viktor thanked God repeatedly that Edda had papers proclaiming her a Gentile, that they had been living as Gentiles, and that no one in Belgium but he and his wife knew the truth. However that haunting memory of Olof and what had happened in Germany never left the back of his mind, and Viktor prayed every day that the Nazis would be too busy conquering the world to worry about looking for the two of them. They both agreed that children must never hear them discuss their mother’s Jewish ancestry or her real name. They were only babies, and at any time they could repeat something, unaware of the danger it might cause. Best for the children to believe that both of their parents were born Catholics and they, too, were Catholics.
When the Jews in Belgium were rounded up in the streets, Edda watched from the window. She held her back stiff and straight, but her hands gripped the windowsill with white knuckles. Viktor stood beside her. Both he and Edda looked far older than their years. Occasionally they glanced at each other; they said nothing, but their eyes said everything. A Nazi guard beat a man and his wife with his rifle. They lay in a pool of blood on the street. The Hahns didn’t know them, but Edda thought that they looked familiar and that she might have remembered them from the St. Louis. Another guard walked by and kicked the woman in the back of the head. She let out a cry, her legs trembled violently, and then she lay silent. Edda ran to the bathroom and vomited.
The commands of the Nazi invaders filled the streets as they roared over their loudspeakers, and although it was a lovely fall day, Edda closed the window in an effort to drown them out. Still, even through the bolted windows she could hear them, harsh angry voices, mingled with the cries of victims. She put her hands to her ears, feeling as if she would go mad.
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