The Chemist's Shop

by Richard Brumer

  “I told you. Orders! Survival! Sometimes, logical reasons cease to exist. Racism was the reason for hanging black people in the south. When Nazis burned the Jews in the crematoria, it was no different. Hate is everywhere. It is part of life. It is normal.

  “For me, I could no longer think. I was just driven to defend the ideals of my country. Eichmann felt the same way. Americans quickly forget about the concentration camps that were set up in the United States during World War II to imprison Japanese American citizens. You say that the concentration camps in Europe confined people only because they were Jews? That is true, but the Nazis sent many others to concentration camps because they were gypsies, homosexuals, and other venom of our society.

  “In the United States, Japanese American citizens were taken from their homes in the middle of the night and put in concentration camps. Why? They were citizens, like other Americans. Your country believed it was the right thing to do, just as Germany believed that rounding up the Jews and putting them into our concentration camps was the right thing.

  “The strange part is that the Japanese never killed or imprisoned Jews, even when they were part of the Axis powers. They were different from us and not anti-Semitic. Actually, there were a significant number of Jews brought to safety from Lithuania in the early forties by a Japanese diplomatic official named Sugihara. He issued them transit visas.”

  “What about Italy, your other Axis power. What did they do to hurt the Jews?”

  “Italy? They did nothing to hurt them. The Jews were treated like all the other Italians.” Stern shrugged.

  “So, it was only the German bastards that killed Jews, right?”

  Stern was silent.

  “I don’t get it, Hans. It’s too terrible to be believable. Why didn’t ordinary soldiers question their superiors?”

  Stern said, “There were a few German soldiers who refused to shoot some of the prisoners when they were ordered to do it, and they were not punished. Their superiors looked away, but the nature of soldiering is to be obedient. Discipline depends upon strict compliance, to obey without questioning.”

  “I don’t know about that. There are such things as illegal orders. American soldiers would not act that way. If an American captain asked a corporal to do something as simple as pick up the captain’s laundry, it would be an illegal order.”

  “But he might do it to stay in the good graces of the captain,” Stern replied.

  “Maybe, but if he would be asked by a superior to kill another soldier or a civilian in front of others, the American would refuse.”

  “Then he would have to be punished,” Stern said.

  “Only in your army, and you would probably be the man to kill him. Your men live in fear. The only fear American soldiers have are for drill sergeants.” Michael smiled.

  ***

  Michael thought of Stern as a blind zealot, but he was right about what had happened to Japanese Americans. When the US government interned Japanese American citizens against their will, Japanese Americans lost their property and their rights as Americans. They also suffered from psychological disorders, and many died as a result of poor medical care. It was wrong. The Supreme Court held that what the American government did was legal.

  But they were wrong too. Imprisoning people because of their race or religion is wrong under any circumstances. After the attack on Pearl Harbor, we lived in fear and succumbed to insane acts, such as imprisoning Japanese Americans. A sad time in our history.

  Michael walked back to his house and had lunch as he listened to The Beatles. For dessert, he had a cup of bold, hot coffee with an éclair and sat on the living room sofa. He sunk his teeth into the creamy custard. It reminded him of the mocha kremes he enjoyed with his family in Budapest.

  ***

  It was a happy day for me. We’d visited our favorite pastry shop on Kossuth Lajos Street, on the bank of the Danube in Budapest. Ilona asked for a platter of pastries, which included a variety of fruit strudels and small, Tokoi cream cakes. Ilona and I had coffee with an added dollop of rich vanilla ice cream and the girls had milk.

  I couldn’t take my eyes off my daughters. They were all prettied up in their fancy city dresses and busy chatting with each other as we sat around the table, enjoying our cakes. I imagined them as young ladies.

  I looked at my young girls, their faces bearing milk moustaches.

  “Tell me, what you would you like to be doing when you’re grown up?”

  “Can I go first? Can I go first, Papa?” Roza pleaded. “I want to write things, books maybe, even poetry. I wrote a poem when I was only five called, ‘The Peek-A-Boo Kid.’ It was about a boy who tapped other boys and girls on their shoulders and said ‘Peek-A-Boo.’ Most of them were annoyed, until one day, he tapped a girl on the shoulder and when she turned around, she greeted him with a big smile. They became friends forever and it all started with a smile. Magda read it and told me she loved it. When I was sick and Dr. Hershkowitz came to the house to make me better, he read a poem I wrote about our family and how much we loved each other. He told me I should be a writer. Can I be a writer, Papa?”

  “Roza, you’re a lovely girl. You can be anything you want, and I’m sure your poems will bring pleasure to everyone who reads them. What about you, Magda? What would you like to be?”

  “I only want to be a singer, Papa,” she said as she bit off a piece of flaky apple strudel and washed it down with milk. “I sing more than I talk. I tried to think of something else I wanted to be. A nurse, maybe, or a singing nurse so I could make sick people happy. First, I feel the music, then it comes out of me like magic and I can’t believe how beautiful it sounds.” She opened her mouth and cupped her hands around her lips as if in song.

  Ilona reached across the table, held Magda’s little hands, and said, “Magda, you would make a wonderful singer. You may not notice me listening when I’m busy cooking or cleaning the house, but I hear every note and it makes me smile.”

  Then, it was little Eva’s turn. “I want to be a dancer, Papa. I know it.”

  “You dance beautifully, little Eva, like a ballerina with so much emotion, but what if you couldn’t be a dancer? What else would you be?”

  “Nothing. I only want to be a dancer, nothing else.”

  Ilona’s face lit up and she turned to me.

  “It looks like our girls will be a gift to the world of the arts, Miklos. I can already see them doing what they love. Do you think it’s strange that none of them said they wanted to be a mother?”

  “I guess they’re just being who they are, Ilona. It seems our work is cut out for us—ballet lessons for little Eva, a voice coach for our songbird, and for Roza, she just has to keep doing what she’s doing and she will change the world with her words.”

  I ate the delicious pastries with my family until we were stuffed. There was no better life I could ever ask for and no better gift than my family. My girls would change the world. I was sure of it.

  Chapter 15

  As usual, the day began with music for Michael. The Violetta aria of La Traviata filled the air while he prepared his breakfast. He tended to his flower garden most of the day, and later in the afternoon, he sang along with “Love Me Do” by the Beatles.

  Michael called Dan at the pharmacy to see how things were going. He reminded him of the arrangement they had agreed to, which gave Dan total ownership of the pharmacy in the event that Michael retired or was no longer available.

  He returned to the garage with a cheese sandwich and a large glass of apple juice for Stern, who was asleep with his chin pressed against his chest. The stench in the garage was overpowering, forcing Michael to wear a surgical mask, which helped him ignore the smell.

  Stern awakened and rubbed his red eyes, a result of the harsh, bright lights that surrounded him twenty-four hours a day. Michael shook Stern to get his attention and the interrogation continued.

  “Hans, your explanation of why the Nazis singled out the Jews left me thinking. Why was i
t so easy for you to torture and kill them? How could human beings be so cruel?”

  “I cannot answer that,” Stern said, still half asleep.

  “Answer it, and I want the truth. I will know if you’re lying. “

  “I will tell you, but I know it will make you angry.”

  “I’m already angry for the atrocities you’ve inflicted on the human race by following the orders of a madman. How could you have been so stupid? Just tell me,” Michael insisted.

  Stern hesitated for a full minute, shaking his head before he spoke, his voice hoarse and scratchy, his body and mind worn thin.

  “All of us believed the Jews were subhuman. They weren’t people. They were insects. That’s what made them easy to kill. They had no real feelings about life, love, or music. They never laughed and were ugly with big noses. They weren’t human and had to be destroyed, like vermin.” Stern shrugged, his mouth turned downward as he rubbed his eyes “The world should be thankful to us for getting rid of them.”

  Michael was stunned to hear it first-hand. It was the one truth Stern believed. How delusional.

  Many Nazis felt the same and viewed Jews as slime and subhuman, which made them as easy to kill as stepping on cockroaches. Michael had wondered why so many human beings could commit such atrocities against other humans. Now he had some idea. The Nazis leveled their hatred on the Jews, gypsies, and homosexuals in the belief they were ridding the world of vermin and had created reasons in their minds to support it.

  It was mass insanity.

  The odor of Stern’s body and the air in the garage intensified, so Michael increased the speed of the exhaust system and sat with his eyes closed until Stern began to speak.

  “And yet...” Stern said.

  “What?” Michael asked.

  “There were many Jews who served in the German army. Some were generals.”

  “I don’t believe that. Let’s get on to something else.”

  “It’s true, Michael, I swear. I met Helmut Wilberg. He was a Jewish general in the Luftwaffe.”

  “A general? How did he get to that rank if he was Jewish?”

  “He was a Mischling.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It is someone of mixed blood, half-Jewish, or had some Jewish blood. There were different degrees. I am not exactly sure of the percentages.”

  “Was it a well-known fact that Wilberg was Jewish?”

  “Some Jewish officers kept their backgrounds secret, others did not. I spoke to Helmut on several social occasions and he told me he was half-Jewish.”

  “So, again, how did he achieve this high rank?”

  “He told me that Germany was his homeland and that came first.”

  “But he was still a Jew.”

  “Hitler declared him an Aryan.”

  “I see. When you’re a dictator, you can change the rules. Was Wilberg smart?”

  “Very smart. You have to understand that there were many Jews in the German army. I don’t think many of them were religious, but the few that I spoke to claimed they were not fighting as Jews but were in the army to fight for the fatherland. In my mind, I excused them for being Jewish and I didn’t see them as Jews.”

  “You excused them…” Michael shook his head.

  “I can tell you something that most people don’t know,” Stern said as he sat back against the concrete wall with a half-smile on his face.

  “I learned from a friend that there was a Nazi soldier named Werner Goldberg. He looked pure Aryan with his blue eyes and blonde hair.” Stern continued smiling and shook his head. “His picture was on the front page of a Nazi magazine with a caption, The Ideal German Soldier. That was a laugh. He was Jewish.”

  Michael didn’t smile, but turned away. Stern was becoming too chummy and he wasn’t sure if it was a good thing. Although, when Stern was at ease, he spoke of events known to a very few, which interested Michael, but he had to end the camaraderie. This man killed his family. Maybe not all of them directly, but he was responsible.

  He went back to the house, had some wine, and took a short nap before he returned to his court. Stern was usually compliant with everything Michael asked of him. In true Nazi spirit, Michael assumed he wanted to survive and being agreeable was his strategy. But when Michael stepped into the garage, Stern was angry.

  “Why am I here, Michael? I still do not know. Why do you leave me alone for so long? I answered all your questions. I have been honest in every way. Can I go home now?” Stern begged.

  “Not yet. I gave you my word that I will release you, and you know I’m an honorable man.”

  “Yes, yes, I do.” A thin smile crossed Stern’s lips. “I understand you just want to learn what the war was like from a German officer’s perspective. You are curious, a professor, a learned man, and who can give you better information than an SS-officer?”

  “Yes, you’re right. I do want to hear about the war from your view.”

  “Ahh, I knew it was about your curiosity. That is the reason for all this. Now, I understand.”

  Michael looked Stern squarely in the eye and asked, “Who is Fernando?”

  “Him?” Stern scowled. “That bastard! He helped Hilda, me, and my daughters get into Argentina, for a price, of course. A huge price. I paid him the agreed amount in pesos, but he kept asking for more and threatened to report me for being a war criminal. I couldn’t take that chance, so I paid him in the way he wanted, with unflawed cut diamonds, the swine.”

  Michael paced back and forth in front of Stern.

  “Are you a war criminal?”

  Stern squirmed. “I am not sure if I am listed. Perhaps I am and I’m afraid to find out, but I knew I would never be put on trial for something that happened so long ago. Many of the witnesses are already dead and because I’ve been free for so many years, no one is looking for me anymore. I knew I would always live out my life as a free man.”

  He’s right, except for one thing. He will never live out his life at all. It’s only a matter of hours before I bring the scum the justice he deserves.

  “I’m interested. How did you get to Argentina?”

  “It was not easy. Thousands of Nazis fled to South America by using the ratlines. I was one of them.”

  “So, those were well-established escape routes?”

  Stern nodded. “I couldn’t do it alone. None of us could. I got help from the Vatican and the Red Cross.”

  “The Vatican? The Red Cross? Educate me. How did that happen? I want to know the details.”

  Stern took a deep breath. “It was all so long ago. The Red Cross issued travel documents to thousands of Nazis during the post-war turmoil. I was one of them, along with Hilda and my girls, but there were complications. I could not use them to get to South America. However, they helped us get to Italy, where we spent six months in Rome.”

  “I assume that this is where the Vatican came in.”

  Stern hesitated. “It is. I still had a fortune in diamonds, beautifully cut stones, and gold jewelry. It was better than money because it always kept its value. The gems I had could support my family for our lifetimes. One small, perfectly cut diamond would buy us rent in an exclusive neighborhood in Rome for a year. I wanted to work, I had to keep busy, but I couldn’t take a chance on getting a job because I felt I might be discovered.”

  “You sound like you were proud of how you escaped, but remember, you said you couldn’t do it without help.”

  “It wasn’t about pride, damn it! It was about survival. I wanted to live. That was the most important thing to me, life!”

  “Yeah, life is important to most people. Everyone wants to survive. No one would want their life taken from them, but you know about those things. How did you get this fortune? I want to know more about how you got the diamonds and gold.”

  Stern appeared drained and tired. “Many Jews in concentration camps hid valuable gems and used them as bribes to get food. I took many cut diamonds, sapphires, rubies, and jewelry from them, only small
bags sometimes, but put together, it was a fortune, enough to live ten lives. Some prisoners swallowed the diamonds if they knew they would be searched and retrieved them later.”

  “And the gold?” Michael asked, pulling up a chair.

  “Gold teeth were taken from the corpses after they were gassed and before they went into the crematoria. Their bodies were stacked in piles, and many of the officers helped themselves. I melted the gold I took while still at Auschwitz and made them into coins and small bars so I could easily use them to pay my expenses after the war. When I reached Italy and later Argentina, my fortune gave me a better life.”

  “So, you paid your costs with the gold teeth of dead Jews.” Michael shook his head. “Okay, now, you’re stuck in Rome. You’re afraid to get a job because it might put you in the open. Then what?”

  Stern looked down at his feet and spoke in a low voice.

  “I met a fellow Nazi officer, Gunther, who was actually working in Rome, picking up rubbish at the Coliseum. He told me there were several priests and a few bishops who helped Nazis escape to South America. They knew where all the established ratlines were. Some of the clergymen didn’t accept money for their services. I don’t know why. They just helped the Nazis. Many of us believed Pope Pius wanted the Nazis to win the war. Others of the cloth demanded artworks, cut diamonds, and gold.”

  “So, who was the one who actually helped you?” Michael asked, soaking up the first-hand story.

  “It was a pro-Nazi bishop in the Vatican who had connections in Germany. Through him, Nazis escaped to South America from Italy or France and he helped me get to Argentina. The cost was high, but he delivered.”

  “You mean Gunther just told you about this source? Why didn’t he contact the bishop himself and escape?”

  “He told me he liked Rome. He had a young, sexy Italian girlfriend and felt safe. He gave me a secret phone number, and I contacted the bishop in Rome, who arranged for new identities and passports for my family. Before I met him, I thought of staying in Rome too, even without working. My diamonds would pay my expenses and I would not have to work, but that would be no life. I was young and needed to keep busy. I was offered a job as a mechanic, and I almost took it because I liked Europe and spoke enough Italian to get by.”