by Liz Tolsma
He struck the child again. The boy fell to the ground, screaming in pain. “Help me! Help me!”
The Nazi kicked him in the gut.
She should stop him. Should do something to protect the boy. He was innocent. Blood gushed from a cut above his eye. Sweat matted his hair to his forehead.
But her midsection tightened. Her feet refused to move. Her mouth refused to open. Her hands refused to help.
Hauptsturmführer Jaeger pulled the child to his feet, and while holding the boy by the collar, stepped to her side. He planted a sloppy kiss on her cheek. “I’m sorry to end the day on such a note, but I have to take out the trash.”
He dragged the crying, pleading Jewish kid down the street and around the corner.
Patricie fell to her knees. What had she become?
Horst sat in the easy chair, fading daylight slithering through the bow window and falling on the paper he read. Glowing reports of German advances. How much could be true? How much did he even believe anymore?
The great and glorious Fatherland. A pure and proud people. Ja, he’d bought into that ideology once a long time ago, when his father had always been right. Before Horst had removed his blinders and seen what the world was becoming.
What he was becoming.
And the offer that Oberleutnant Meier made him? Horst set the paper on the small table and took a long drag on his cigarette. What was he supposed to do about that? He couldn’t accept the position of head of deportation. He couldn’t send all those people to the work camps. Nein, the extermination camps.
He refused to put Anna or her grandmother on an eastbound train. Anna, his one spot of beauty in this crazy, upside down world. His one moment of sanity during the day.
She moved him. Stirred something undefinable deep inside him.
Like an apparition, she appeared at his side. “May I talk to you?”
She was small, fine boned, delicate. Yet he sensed a depth to her, a strength she herself had yet to discover. He nodded in the direction of the wing chair opposite him. “What is it?”
She sat and gazed at her hands, folded in her lap. Those fingers that flew over the violin strings. “I wanted to thank you for covering for me yesterday. You could have turned us in. Pretended you didn’t know we were Jewish.”
He gave a half chuckle. “I don’t think Hauptsturmführer Jaeger would have believed me. My life is as much on the line as yours.”
“We are putting you in great danger, as well as ourselves. It’s not safe here anymore. Babička and I need to leave.”
He leaned forward. More than anything, he didn’t want them to go. “Ne.”
“And what if Hauptsturmführer Jaeger returns?”
“We now have our cover story straight. He believed it. And you can hide in the cellar while he is here. I will tell him I let you go home early. Just stay away from the window and don’t answer the door.”
She sat back and studied the rose-flecked wallpaper above him. “That man knows you spoke to my brother. It won’t take him long to fit the puzzle together. My brother is in more danger.”
“I’m doing what I can for him, although he doesn’t want my help. Told me to stay away.”
“Then do that, please. Don’t go to him. Keep him safe.”
“You haven’t seen Theresienstadt.” He leaned toward her and touched her cheek so she would look him in the face. He dared to use her first name. They’d become close enough. “Anna, conditions there are terrible. People are crowded together shoulder to shoulder. Disease is rampant. Food is scarce. I may be saving your brother’s life, and the lives of several others.”
“And you may be signing his death warrant.”
“I would never do anything to put him at increased risk. Everyday living is dangerous in that place. It’s not a matter of if, but when, he’ll be taken away. If I can help him stay strong, perhaps he’ll survive.”
She sat back in the chair and pulled her legs underneath her. Like the children on that horrible night he would rather forget. “Why would you do that? Why are you risking your life for us? That is what I don’t understand. What I can’t begin to come up with a reason for. You took us in as strangers, but your job is to kill us.”
“My mother raised me to do what is right. I didn’t always follow her teachings, to my great regret.”
“You are doing this to absolve yourself of guilt, ne?”
“Not to absolve myself, but to try to right what is wrong.”
“How many Jews have you sent away?”
He sat back like she shot him in the chest. “None. My job has nothing to do with Jews. Do you think most of us work in our offices all day planning of ways to get rid of your people?”
“Don’t you?” She stood and moved behind the chair, as if using it to protect herself.
“Don’t be silly. Of course not.” But Oberleutnant Meier’s offer rattled around in Horst’s brain. How many would he be forced to load onto cattle cars and send east? He would become just like Stefan. Just like his father. The man who hated the Jews, whom he blamed for his son’s death.
“You don’t understand what life is like for us.” Her brown eyes shimmered.
“I’m beginning to.”
“Why didn’t your people stop this madman? You should have known, should have seen, what was coming. You could have been rid of him with a single uprising. By Kristallnacht, you should have seen his true colors. Didn’t the shattered glass and the shattered lives give you a clue?”
Horst clenched his fists. “Enough!” he roared at her in German.
Anna scampered away like a frightened kitten and slammed the door to her room.
He mussed his hair, a wicked headache picking that moment to careen into him.
What was he going to do?
Hauptmann Engel left the flat very early the next morning without saying another word to Anna. And that was fine with her. Never in her life had she seen anyone angrier, except when her father had found out David was involved with the intellectual types like Franz Kafka. When his son turned his back on their faith, Táta was furious.
She could understand her father’s rage. She couldn’t understand Hauptmann Engel’s. She’d said nothing to arouse his ire to that degree.
Perhaps she’d angered him by the way she spoke about Hitler. That had to be it. He loved the man and fancied him to be his country’s savior. She’d spoken blasphemy against their dear Führer.
She made Babička’s breakfast and washed the dishes when they finished eating. She read his newspaper, folding it just so when she was done, so it would appear unread. No need in upsetting him again.
She itched to touch her violin strings, to feel the weight of it in her hands, to draw the bow across it and produce the music that stirred her soul.
She pulled out the case, opened the squeaky hinges, and lifted out the beautiful tiger-maple instrument. She turned it over in her hands and tucked it under her cheek, loving the way it fit. Just perfect.
In her hands, she grasped an imaginary bow and played a tune only she could hear. Her fingers flew across the strings during long passages of sixteenth notes. Her body swayed when she came to the measures full of heartrending beauty and pain.
When she finished, she stood breathless.
“Anna.” Babička’s weak cry came from the bathroom. “Anna.”
How long had her grandmother been calling for her? Anna dropped her violin on the sofa and flew across the apartment, her heart pounding as fast as her fingers had moved. Babička lay on the wood floor. Anna slid to her knees, propping Babička’s head under a towel. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
“The pain in my chest.” Babička’s breath came in spurts, her shaking hands clutching her blouse.
Anna’s own hands trembled. “I’ll get your medicine.” She rose to retrieve it from the cabinet where Hauptmann Engel allowed her to store it. She rifled through the manly contents like razors and shaving cream, not finding what she needed.
“I took the
last of it yesterday.”
“So you haven’t been feeling well for a while?”
“A few days. There are so many troubling things happening, I didn’t want to burden you. But now you have to get more.”
Anna knelt again. “Let me get you to bed. Perhaps you will feel better then.”
Babička’s face paled another shade. “You know these attacks. Only the medicine helps.”
“But what if someone notices me? Someone who knows I’m not supposed to be here. What if a soldier asks to see my papers?”
Babička clutched her chest.
“Is the pain worse?”
She nodded.
Anna grabbed her own middle, her heart throbbing against her ribs. “Can we trust Dr. Skala? Are you sure he won’t turn me in? He might have found out about our disappearance.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. But, but . . .”
“What about Hauptmann Engel? Or Sabina?”
“He is gone, and I don’t know when he’ll be back. And I would have to go out to get word to Paní Buraneková.”
“What other choice is there?”
A cold sweat dotted Anna’s forehead as she lifted her grandmother to a sitting position. “I’m not going to lose you. I will do whatever is necessary to keep you alive.” She bit back the lump in her throat about to choke her. “You are all I have. You and David. So you aren’t allowed to die. Can you stand?”
“If you help me, I think I can.”
Anna managed to get Babička to her feet. Several times on the way down the short hall they had to stop so Babička could catch her breath. Ten minutes later, Anna tucked her grandmother into the large bed that occupied most of the space in the small bedroom.
“Anna?”
“Yes, Babička?”
“I love you, child.”
“I love you too. Please hold on until I get back. Doctor Skala’s home isn’t far from here. Are you sure we can trust him?”
“Ne, but I trust God.”
Anna fussed with her grandmother’s blanket. “I won’t be long.”
With one last kiss for Babička, Anna sprinted from the bedroom, grabbed her coat, and slipped out of the flat. Her own breath came in gasps.
But she didn’t have time for fear. Babička needed her. And soon. All she had to do was to keep her head down and pray no one noticed her.
And that they could trust Dr. Skala.
Oberleutnant Meier stood in front of his office window looking over Theresienstadt, his back to Horst. Rolls of gray clouds hung low over the chilly ghetto. The man took a long drag on his cigarette and blew out a puff of smoke.
He turned to Horst and stared at him across the mahogany desk. “The position I’m offering you is lucrative. To oversee scheduling the deportations is quite the responsibility. And a step up from your current position, which will win you no honor. No one cares about buildings. But helping to free the Reich from the impure? That will make you a man to be noticed. Reckoned with.”
Horst wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. “But my job now is a pleasure.”
“What greater pleasure is there than to rid Germany of all that makes it weak? These people have stolen what belongs to us. What all Aryans deserve. A homeland. Good jobs. Peace and prosperity.”
Horst stepped backward. He didn’t want any part of this. His hands would forever be stained with blood. Meier’s gaze drilled through his middle. Horst turned his attention to the pictures on the wall, all painted by great masters. All stolen from the Jews.
If they only knew who lived in his flat.
“You participated in Kristallnacht, if I remember correctly.”
Horst scanned the room for a chair as his legs went weak. “How did you find that out?”
“It’s in your records.”
Of course. They’d examined his records down to the last detail of his life.
“Your enthusiasm for the event was noted.”
An enthusiasm which had turned to cold, hard regret when he’d opened his eyes the following morning.
He had stared at the Danish Mutti had placed in front of him for breakfast, afraid to look at her.
“Did you hear what happened last night?” She stood beside the table and wiped her hands on her apron.
He nodded, afraid to trust his voice.
“What a senseless waste. The Jews weren’t hurting anyone. We need their businesses. For them to have windows broken and stores burned because of who they are is inhumane. And some of them were beaten and arrested, just because they are different. My heart aches today. What is becoming of us?” She touched the top of his head and turned to the stove to poach Vater’s egg.
She knew where he’d been without ever asking the question.
Once Vater had come to the table, they’d eaten in silence, Vater smiling throughout the meal, Mutti frowning. Then she cleared their plates and brought out the family Bible. Resuming her seat, she flipped the pages until she came to the passage where Paul said there would be no free or slave, male or female, Jew or Greek, because we would all be one in Christ.
Her voice rang clear and true, steady as she spoke the words of God.
Vater’s face, on the other hand, reddened as she continued. “Enough.”
Mutti stared at him, her mouth wide open.
He reached over and slammed the book shut. Then he struck her across the cheek.
“Nein, nein.” Horst rushed to his mother’s side.
“Last night I thought you were a man.” Vater’s eyes bulged. “Now I see that you are nothing more than a spoiled, wimpy excuse for a man.”
Then his father’s hand came across his own cheek. His insides burned almost as much as the spot on his face.
He would never forget.
That was the last time he could be called a good Nazi. That was when the awful dreams began.
Oberleutnant Meier cleared his throat, jerking Horst back to the present. Not any nicer of a reality. “What has become of you since that night?”
“I’m sure there is someone more suitable for the position. Honestly, I don’t know why I was chosen. Does this have anything to do with my father?”
The man straightened to his full height, towering over Horst.
“I see.” Horst paced across the small room and back again. “He got me this position in Prague to butter me up, just a prelude to the job he really wanted me to have.” His pulse pounded in his wrist. “Tell him danke, but nein. I will not accept the position. Ever. Especially knowing it came from him.”
The room’s door banged opened. “You will accept this position.”
Horst spun around. “Vater.” The walls closed in on him.
His father strode into the room. Though they stood at the same height, Vater still towered over him. “How dare you turn it down.”
Horst clenched and unclenched his fists and tried to keep his voice steady, even though his entire body shook. “I refuse to do your dirty work. If you want to send the Jews east, do it yourself.”
Vater turned to Meier. “Leave us. I’ll teach this boy some manners.”
Horst fingered his sidearm. If he had to use it, could he?
The door clicked shut behind Meier.
“I will not have my son behaving in such a fashion.” Vater took a step forward, his usually pale face burning red. “Do you understand me? You will not speak in such a manner to a superior officer. Or to me.”
“I don’t believe I’m under any obligation to take the offer. What are you doing here, anyway?”
“I traveled all the way from Berlin to congratulate you on your new position. To celebrate with my only remaining child as he finally becomes a man. And then, I hear this.”
“You should have saved yourself the trouble. I won’t do it.”
“You’re a coward.” Vater spat on Horst’s shoes.
“I’m nothing of the sort.” He wasn’t, was he?
“A disgrace to the Fatherland. And to me. How could you do this to me? Ot
to wouldn’t have been so ungrateful. So stubborn. He would have done what I asked. Would have shared our vision for a strong Germany.”
Horst sucked in a breath. He turned from his father and stared out the window at the work detail returning from a hard day’s labor. “Well, I’m not Otto, am I? And that’s what you can’t stand the most. Go dig up his bones, attach strings to them, and make him dance for you. I refuse to do it.”
“You’re a Jew lover, aren’t you?”
Horst held his breath.
“Well, aren’t you?” Vater grabbed him by the upper arm, his grasp vise-like. “That’s why you refuse such an important position.”
“Nein.” Ja. Ja, he was. But that would be the death of him.
“Then I order you to take the job. I’ll have the transfer papers drawn up immediately.”
Horst shook himself free of Vater’s hold and spun to face him. He squared his shoulders, straightened, and puffed out his chest. “You will do no such thing. If I ever want such a job, I will earn it, like every other German soldier must. Until then, I will continue as Minister of Architectural Preservation in Prague. And don’t you ever, ever pay me a surprise visit again. If you don’t leave me alone, I’ll render you unable to bother me.” He clutched the revolver’s grip. “Do I make myself clear?”
A vein bulged in Vater’s neck. “You are no son of mine. Do I make myself clear?”
The slamming of the door reverberated in Horst’s ears.
How could he have ever tried to win Vater’s favor?
How could he have ever wanted to be like him?
The sun just touched the western horizon as German soldiers marched David and the rest of his work detail into the gate at Terezín, under the arch in the thick stone wall. A different gate, the one into the small fortress, read Arbeit Macht Frei. Work Makes You Free.
His body ached from splitting rocks all day long. What on earth could the Germans need with so many stones? They could have built ten pyramids with the ones he split just himself.
A violent cough racked his body. He struggled for breath.
Egon grabbed him by the hand. “Come on. You have to keep up.”
A difficult directive, more so each passing day. His legs were as heavy as any of the rocks in the quarry. He dragged his mallet through the mud, lacking the strength to carry it.