No Time for Tears

by Cynthia Freeman

  He took her in his arms. “You know, Pnina, you’re a lot like my mother. She never gives up on anything, either. Never takes no for an answer—”

  “Bravo for Aunt Chavala. May I take it you’ve finally said yes?”

  He held her closer, led her to the bed and eliminated any possible doubts he might have had that he would be marrying a woman …

  In the morning the first person they called was Dovid, who not surprisingly was at first shocked, feeling the misgivings Reuven had had in the beginning. But, loving them both as he did, his shock soon gave way to pleasure …

  The next phone call was to Dvora and Ari. They too were concerned, but gave their blessing…

  And the next call was overseas. Chavala shared none of the negative thoughts. Uppermost for her was that they were keeping the family within the family. Reuven had no time for honeymoons or family weddings. Two days later they were married, and he proceeded to get on with his mission….

  The trail of murderers and saboteurs led back to Led el Awadin, and so the Haganah ordered Reuven to capture the mukhtar head of the village, dead or alive.

  Reuven’s plan called for the Haganah men to disguise themselves as British soldiers, complete with uniforms, helmets, English cigarettes and British army bully beef. They drove up to Led el Awadin in army trucks, giving orders in English, and gathered all the men of the village onto the threshing floor. When the unit arrived, Reuven ordered, “Take your positions and surround the house.” The two-story house was demolished, and the mukhtar was killed.

  Haganah was no longer only defensive. It was a force the Arabs would learn to reckon with.

  And the British too. British raids were made on the Yishuv at the kibbutzim in search of “illegal” arms, and if any were found the custodian of those arms was immediately thrown into Acre prison. The Yishuv now found itself in perhaps its darkest moment so far. The Yishuv appealed once again to Whitehall, and the reply, not unexpectedly, was that, terribly sorry, nothing could be done.

  Jewish militant factions could no longer be restrained. They lashed out in a series of raids, bombing British offices, clubs, attacking Arabs. They demolished British arsenals, ambushed convoys. Leaders of the Yishuv Central and former raiders were thrown into Acre jail.

  Still, the plea went out from Ben-Gurion to the Yishuv to once again use its wisdom and restraint against the British. He denounced the terror tactics, and with the help of Binya Yariv, most militant factions in the Haganah were held in check. For the moment…

  But in Germany there was no moderating force. Even the formerly most self-deluded German Jews knew what their fate would be if they stayed. The British, though, had made it as difficult for German Jews to get into Palestine as it was for Palestinian Jews to leave.

  Orders came from the Yishuv Central to Dovid that he must try to get into Germany. The Germans were exploiting the visa market literally for all it was worth … the more desperate the Jews became, the higher was the price of their freedom charged by the Reich. Whole fortunes were given for a single visa. They were stolen, forged. Visas meant life. Without them death was certain.

  Dovid managed to slip over the Lebanese border and on foot proceeded to Beirut. There, using a forged passport, he caught a boat for Marseilles and, in another week, showed up in Berlin.

  Now Dovid was faced with terrible decisions—who received visas and who did not. In fact, he was threatened, offered bribes. He listened to desperate pleas and heard the cries of those he had to refuse … the lives of the children had to be saved at any cost.

  Next on the essential list were scientists, doctors, professionals. Dovid was able to get many of the children as well as the others out through the underground Aliyah Bet, from where they were eventually accepted in France.

  He actually went into negotiations with the Gestapo to try to sell them on the idea of issuing more permits. He argued that since Britain and Germany were competing for Arab favors, it would surely harass the British if German Jews, en masse, were to hit the shores of Palestine. Negotiating with the Gestapo? He’d buy from the Devil himself if it meant getting the visas. And the Devil himself, in the form and shape of one Adolf Eichmann, issued five hundred visas in exchange for thousands of American dollars. Later this same Eichmann would provide a “final solution” for the Jewish problem. Today he would profit from them … as long as he couldn’t kill them. His time, and theirs, would come. He could afford to wait…

  Time was running out, and Dovid received his orders to return to Palestine. But first he had to try to help Sheine.

  No one had heard from her during these last terrifying months. There was no way for him to know that she lay sick in her bed, terrified more for her son, her Erich, than for herself.

  From the day of his birth, Sheine’s mother-in-law had taken him in hand, made him her charge. He loved his mother, her quiet sweet gentleness, but he had grown up a German and became active in the Nazi Youth movement. Being a champion soccer player helped make him especially popular in the Hitler Youth. Besides, it was difficult for a young boy not to be carried away with the mood of marching bands, flying banners, stadiums roaring with sieg heils to the führer. Erich was a German boy who believed along with all good German boys that Hitler, their führer, was God.

  Listening to him glorify Hitler, rail against the Jews, Sheine wanted to die, but she held her tongue … as she had on and since the day of his birth. Germans whose records allegedly showed that somewhere back three or four hundred years they had had a Jewish antecedent were taken off, never to reappear. Erich, half-Jewish, was in greater danger than they, Sheine knew…

  During the dread-filled summer of 1939 Dovid had accomplished a great deal. Now he faced his greatest personal challenge.

  He called Gunter Hausman.

  Gunter was shocked to see Dovid in Berlin. Well, there was no time for amenities. Dovid quickly told Gunter why he had come to Berlin, that the lives of a handful had been saved but even if it had been only one it would have been worth the effort … But now he was on a personal mission … “I’ve asked you here, Gunter, to warn you that your wife, my sister-in-law, is in great danger. Her only hope is to leave at this moment. I will see to it that she and Erich get into Palestine, and when this madness is over … well, you can be together again—”

  “You, a Palestinian, know more about my country than I do? I thank you very much for your great concern, but you must remember that I am married to Elsa Beck Hausman, not Sheine Rabinsky. No one here knows her background. If I thought for one moment that her life were in peril, loving her as I do and my son, do you imagine that I would not have suggested her leaving? Believe me, Dovid, Elsa is one of the few who has nothing to fear. These are bad times, I apologize for the behavior of the Third Reich. But the Third Reich is not Germany. It is a temporary government of thugs, hoodlums, addicts. A crazy house-painter sits at its helm. Now, Dovid, will you please get on with your most important mission, and leave Elsa and Erich in my hands?”

  Dovid shook his head, but there was nothing more he could say. Gunter meant well, no question about it, but he sadly underestimated the men he’d spoken against. At least Sheine was married to a man who realized the injustice being done to her people, but was that enough…?

  The two men shook hands, and in parting Dovid said, “I pray to God, Gunter, that you are right.” And to himself … Because if you aren’t, your wife and son are already dead …

  Dovid left Germany two days before Hitler invaded Poland, touching off World War II. As he reached the shores of Palestine, and home, in Berlin Jews were being beaten unmercifully by crowds of hoodlums. Windows were smashed, books were being burned. An all-out reign of terror had descended on the Jews. Old bearded men were commanded to fall to their knees. The hairs of their beards were torn out They were ordered to bark like a dog.

  The world had gone mad. That night marked a new beginning for the rise of German barbarism—Kristallnacht—the night of the broken glass, a night that gave the sig
nal for the extermination of six million Jews…

  Gunter sat in his overstuffed chair reading a humorous short story by Guy de Maupassant. Life was so grim these days, he detested even looking at the newspaper. His mind strayed for a moment when he realized that he’d been giving Elsa increasingly larger doses of medication to calm her nerves, but her tensions were so great it seemed the only way to help her function at all.

  He tried concentrating again on his reading—the doorbell rang. He glanced at his watch … 11:35. An odd hour for a social call. He got up and went to the door. When he opened it, standing in front of him was Klaus Stein, dressed in a long black leather belted coat, his cold blue eyes emphasized by the black felt hat which he’d pulled down to his forehead. Klaus Stein, an officer in the dreaded Gestapo, reporting to Adolf Eichmann.

  Gunter swallowed hard, tried a cordial greeting. It was not returned. Stein only said, “You are Herr Doktor Hausman?”

  “Yes, and what may I do for you?”

  “I believe you have some information of importance to us.”

  Gunter knew too well why Stein had come. He tried to rally himself, and invited Stein in. Other Schutzstaffeln men remained outside while Stein followed Gunter into the living room.

  “May I get you brandy, Herr Stein?”

  “No. This is not a social call. Tell me about your wife.”

  “My wife, Well, she’s quite beautiful, what every lovely German woman should be—”

  “But she’s not German, is she?”

  Gunter paused, forced a smile. “We’ve been married for so long, I have difficulty remembering that she’s not.”

  “If you can remember, where does she come from?”

  “From Equatorial Africa.”

  “Tell me how you met.”

  “Well … it was during the First World War. I was stationed in the Middle East There’s really little else to tell.”

  “How well did you know her during that time?”

  “How well? Herr Stein, she was my chief surgical nurse and I had known her for a year, two, I’m not sure—”

  “Thank you for your information. Now will you be kind enough to summon Frau Hausman?”

  “She really has not been well lately—”

  “I’ve just given you an order. I wish to see Frau Hausman. Immediately.”

  Gunter went upstairs and found Sheine in a deep sleep. He stood at her bedside, breathing hard … dear God, what could he do? No one knew about her, he kept telling himself. Trying to rationalize … this was a harsh procedure now followed in the cases of all Germans married to foreigners … He sat on the edge of her bed, took her hand gently in his, stroked her hair and kissed her gently. Her eyelids fluttered. “How nice, Gunter, what a nice way to awaken me …”

  Get to it, he told himself. “Darling, I wanted you to rest, but there’s a gentleman downstairs that would like to ask you a few questions. Now please don’t worry—”

  She was now fully awake … and she understood. “They’ve come to take me away, Gunter. I know they’ve come to take me—”

  “No, darling. It’s just routine questioning of foreign subjects married to Germans.”

  She got out of bed, dressed, and suddenly, as she looked at herself in the mirror, felt surprisingly calm, almost peaceful. The awful fear that had whipped her all these years was abruptly gone. As she reached in the closet to take her coat, Gunter said quickly, “What are you doing? … you don’t need your coat.”

  “I think you’re wrong. I have a feeling, Gunter. I won’t be returning for a long time …”

  Slowly she walked down the staircase, Gunter at her side. When she reached the living room she said, “You’ve asked to see me?”

  “Yes, Frau Hausman. If you will be kind enough to accompany me to headquarters.”

  With Gunter at her side she followed Stein out to his waiting car, and the three were driven to Gestapo headquarters.

  When they arrived, Stein seated himself behind his desk, leafing through a large, yellow-paged case history. Gunter and Sheine sat on the opposite side of the desk. Both were thinking about Erich.

  Gunter tried to convince himself that when this was over Sheine and he would return home and the reasons that brought them here tonight would be done and over. In his heart he suspected otherwise…

  The door to the adjacent room opened and, between a complement of two guards, Dr. Ludwig Breslauer was brought in. In front of Stein, on his desk, was Sheine Rabinsky’s psychiatric case history, assembled by Breslauer.

  Gunter cursed himself for having sent Sheine those many years ago to Breslauer—a Jew. All of his records had now been confiscated. If not for that mistake, Elsa Beck Hausman would not now be here.

  The questioning of Sheine and Ludwig Breslauer went on and on until the early hours of the morning, despite that Stein well knew all the answers. His sadism, though, was piqued … he dearly loved to see them squirm.

  Sheine was taken away without even being able to whisper “I love you,” to Gunter.

  Beyond grief, he went home to contemplate not so much the fate of Sheine—he now knew its inevitability, and that he was helpless to do anything about it—but to dedicate himself to somehow getting Erich out of the country.

  But time had run out for that too. Stormtroopers broke down his door, demanded Erich Dieter Hausman. Gunter thought he would go out of his mind … “He is not here, he is not here—” He was knocked to the floor by a rifle butt as two of the troopers ran up the stairs, methodically opened each door, until Erich was found.

  He followed them, asking, “Why are you doing this to me? What have I done? I am a German, a son of the Fatherland—”

  A hard slap across his face made him lose his balance, toppled him over.

  “Get up, you Jew bastard, son of a Jewish whore. Get up and follow me.”

  Totally bewildered, he obeyed. On the way out he looked at his father, looked for an explanation that, of course, could not be given.

  Gunter listened to the staff car drive away, sat down heavily in his chair, then realized his mother was standing there, brought by the commotion in Erich’s room. Now she seemed as bewildered and disbelieving as Erich was about the accusation that he was a Jew. She lashed out at Gunter, “Did you know when you married her what she was?”

  He nodded.

  “You knew, and you brought that… that Jewish woman to live in my home … My God … how could you have done it, disgraced us, destroyed your own family for … that…?”

  Gunter looked up at his mother. At the moment he wanted to kill her. He ran out of the house, got into his car and drove through the streets of Berlin, then onto the highway until he came on a German convoy. Accelerating, he drove faster and faster and, in one blinding moment of hatred, rammed into the moving vehicle. Both went up in flames. Gunter, a father who could not save his son, a husband who could not save his wife, could no longer justify living. At least he could take a few of their murderers with him….

  Sheine and Erich were taken to Auschwitz where, mercifully, Sheine died … At least, Erich thought, she had not lived long enough to be tortured the way others were that he lived to see. He prayed for one thing—to stay alive long enough so that he could revenge himself against those who had once made him believe that he was a member of their murderous “superior” race. That day would come, and for that, he would survive.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  WHEN DOVID RETURNED TO Palestine he found that Reuven and Joshua had joined the British army. Zvi too. And then he got the explanation. It seemed the charity of Britain was boundless when it became a matter of its own pressing needs. The war was going badly for them. Rommel was very close to Alexandria. Reuven was an important, knowledgeable officer in Syria. And Reuven and the Jews welcomed the opportunity to fight for Palestine against the Germans, even in the British army. Ben-Gurion recommended it and the Yishuv listened.

  Reuven quickly recruited, trained and led his men into action … and along with British and
Australians … the Australians were wonderfully fierce and courageous fighters … put Rommel out of business so far as using Syria as an invasion base for Palestine was concerned.

  But Reuven ached for Pnina. He was also bone-tired, and damned lonely….

  When he did manage to get to her, when she saw him getting out of his army jeep, she ran to greet him, took him in her arms and just held him quietly, tightly. As though afraid she might lose him if she ever took her arms away.

  Finally, taking him by the hand, she ran to the house, where Dvora was baking bread. Hands full of flour, Dvora reached up and kissed him, nearly as excited, and grateful, as Pnina to see him.

  That evening they tried to catch up on their lives. Ari said, “You made quite a splash for yourself in Syria …”

  Reuven laughed. “We didn’t do so bad, considering we had foreign units who didn’t always get the same signals. But we did accomplish what we set out to do, and let me tell you … Zvi did a fine job. You should be proud. He told me to send his love … he seems busy with a very pretty blond sabra in Haifa … He said you’d understand.”

  Ari laughed. “After a battle like that, who wouldn’t understand … Do you think he’s serious about her?”

  “Well … he didn’t come back for Aunt Dvora’s baked bread. Joshua sends his love too, but he wanted to go into Jerusalem to see our father….”

  The next week Pnina and Reuven lived an idyll. They hiked the countryside, made love among the eucalyptus. When they worked together in the fields they shared a pleasure in the feel of a plow in their hands instead of a gun.

  It was over too soon … Reuven was needed in Jerusalem, and Pnina went back to her unit with the Palmach.

  During the war the Yishuv had courageously supported the British, as it had in the First World War. Thanks in part to the great efforts of the Yishuv, Rommel never reached Alexandria. No other community, no country had given so much and received so little … The British, afraid that if the Jews were too applauded, too appreciated, they might use this against the British when bargaining for a homeland later on. When the British needed spies in the Balkans, they turned to the Jews to train them as parachutists. Thirty were sent behind the enemy lines and not one was found alive.