Swan Song

by Elizabeth B. Splaine

  “He is safe now, my son.” The woman’s face was streaked with dirt, but she smiled and walked away, her body swaying as if she were drunk.

  “My God,” Ursula breathed. “What is happening?”

  A truck bearing multiple swastikas turned the corner and accelerated quickly toward them. It showed no sign of stopping, so Willy grabbed Ursula’s coat and pulled her to safety just as the large military vehicle ran over the smoking corpse. The truck slammed to a halt when the driver caught sight of Ursula.

  “Well, well. What do we have here?” He put the truck in park and exited, as several more soldiers leapt out of the back. “A pretty Jew perhaps?”

  “Is there such a thing?” another jeered.

  “I have seen and enjoyed several,” a third offered. They laughed.

  Willy stepped in front of Ursula and lifted his chin. A cruel smile crawled up the driver’s cheeks. “Relax, friend. We only want to have a little fun.”

  “Then please get back in your truck and search for fun elsewhere.”

  The driver squinted in the darkness. “You look familiar. Show me your papers. Both of you.” His eyes lingered on Ursula’s breasts. Both Willy and Ursula reached into their pockets and produced their kennkarten. The driver took Ursula’s first, his fingers brushing against hers as he continued to grope her with his eyes. He glanced at the cover of the folded document and laughed as he tapped the red J that was stamped there. “You are a Jew!”

  Turning to Willy, he extended his hand, and Willy gave him his papers. The driver took note of the swastika and sniffed. “What are you doing cavorting with her, Herr . . .” The driver trailed off as he opened the card and searched for Willy’s surname. The man inhaled sharply. “You are the Führer’s nephew?” The driver stood at attention and offered Willy a stern “Heil, Hitler!” before returning the document to Willy with an apology.

  “You should get off the streets, Herr Hitler.” The driver looked at Ursula and then at Willy. “I do not know, nor do I want to know what your relationship is to this woman, but if I were you, I would cut my losses. She will be dead soon if she remains in Germany.”

  Otto’s beating, her disagreement with Anna, Goebbels’ letter, and the rabbi’s death jumbled together in Ursula’s mind. Desperation and frustration twisted within her, gaining momentum as they joined forces. She willed herself to remain calm, knowing that an outburst would be detrimental.

  “Perhaps when you’re finished, we might enjoy her company too?” The soldiers laughed. Ursula’s entire body trembled with anger she could contain no longer. She launched herself toward the soldier, her flailing fists desperate to find a target. Willy grabbed her from behind and pulled her away. The soldier laughed. “What are you going to do, Jewess? Rip out my eyes? Are you going to hurt me?” His smile morphed into a sneer, and his eyes became cruel. “Not if I hurt you first.” They locked eyes, and Ursula felt as if she were seeing the devil, pure evil encapsulated in human form. “You are fortunate to be with Herr Hitler. Otherwise, who knows what fate might have befallen you.” He smiled viciously, then yelled to his colleagues. “Load up, boys! Let us go and have fun somewhere else.”

  As they pulled away, the driver tossed Ursula’s kennkarte, which struck her face before falling to the ground. Still breathing heavily, she leaned down to retrieve it and realized that her life would never be the same. How did I not see it before now? How could I have been so blind? As if clairvoyant, her new reality come into stark focus. She would never again grace the stage in Berlin, perhaps all of Germany. She would never again walk, speak, or act freely. She could no longer provide for her family and had become completely dependent on Willy for her survival. Her desire to leave suddenly became all-consuming. She shook with impotent rage as she stared at the rabbi’s mangled, burnt corpse and imagined her near-rape or worse, near-death encounter with Hitler’s animals.

  “Are you alright?” Willy asked softly as he touched her shoulder.

  She flinched unconsciously. Willy quickly removed his hand and held it aloft. “I’m sorry, Ursula.”

  She looked through him. “You shouldn’t be with me. It’s not safe.”

  “I will not allow you to apologize for who you are. I love you, and I’ll defend you until my last dying breath.”

  Ursula started crying and found that she couldn’t stop. “And then what?”

  “What?”

  Ursula took heaving breaths in between her sobs. “What happens if you’re no longer able to defend me?”

  Willy’s eyes hardened. “It will never come to that, Ursula.”

  “You don’t know what the future holds, Willy. For the first time in my life, I’m scared. I’m old enough to understand the value of life, yet young enough to know that I have much more to do before I die.” Her knees buckled, and she sank to the ground.

  Willy knelt next to her. “Ursula, look at me. You’re the strongest person I know. You’ll get through this. We will get through this. You have my word. Alright?”

  She held his eyes, desperate to believe his empty promise.

  “We can be in England by next month. I can get the necessary documents in a week or so. That will give you time to write a letter to Carl Ebert accepting your new position at Glyndebourne. Imagine it, Ursula, singing French and Italian music for people who appreciate their beauty!”

  She smiled through her tears. “I thought you didn’t like opera.”

  “I don’t. But I care very much for one of its finest sopranos. Now, let me help you.” He stood and offered his hand, which she accepted. Brushing dirt off her coat, she glanced at the rabbi and the baby. She closed her eyes to block out the image, then forced herself to reopen them. She needed to be an active witness to the horror. “What shall we do with them?”

  Willy shook his head. “I know that you want to help him, but I believe that our earlier encounter has consumed our good luck for the evening.”

  Willy’s argument held reason, but Ursula averted her eyes, ashamed that they were leaving a man’s body in the street. As they walked away, a stunned child gawked at them from a nearby doorway. No more than four years old, his haunted eyes seemed too big in his tiny round face. Ursula briefly wondered what his future held, then turned her gaze to her own future.

  1942

  23

  “I can’t believe that we’re scheduled to leave this evening!” Ursula gushed as she repacked her large suitcase for the third time.

  “I can’t believe that you have so many clothes,” Otto responded.

  Ursula paused, hands on her hips. “Papa, Willy told me that in England people dress for dinner. Apparently, his mother wears a beautiful dress each evening. How am I to choose?” she asked, exasperated. She covered her face in her hands. “It’s impossible!”

  Otto smiled. He hadn’t seen Ursula happy in some time and enjoyed the spectacle. Since witnessing the horror of the rabbi, Ursula had rarely ventured from the apartment. The one time she’d taken a stroll with Willy, she was stopped by an SS officer, who informed her that she was in violation of the decree stating that all Jews affix a yellow star of David to their clothing. Indeed, if Willy hadn’t been with her, she surely would have been killed on the spot. She had promptly returned to the apartment, sewn the star onto her coat, and slipped into an emotional sinkhole.

  The weeks slid by with no possibility of escape on the horizon. Although Willy had said he’d have identity papers within a week, it took months to procure forged documents. As her hope dwindled, she ate little and spoke even less. Worried, Otto spoke privately with Willy. The next day Willy returned with some lamb stew and suggested a practical distraction—English lessons in preparation for their voyage.

  Ursula had been reluctant at first, but Willy balanced the challenging lessons with well-timed presents that ensured her continued interest. Over time she amassed many new dresses and even a bright pink tube of lips
tick, a treasured item given recent rationing. She’d come to look forward to her lessons and worked hard to perfect the new language. Last week Willy announced he had finally obtained the documents, and Ursula’s mood had gone from hopeless to elated in a matter of seconds.

  Otto smiled as she curtsied and said in heavily accented English, “Good evening, Mr. Becker. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

  Although Otto had been attending the same English lessons with Willy, his progress had been slower, and he struggled to understand what Ursula said. Nevertheless, he clapped his hands in delight. Ursula curtsied once more in appreciation. As she rose, she suddenly realized how much she missed the stage.

  Otto sensed her mood shift. “Ursula? Are you alright?”

  She silently chastised herself for the moment of self-pity. “Of course I am, Papa. I have the two best men in the world taking care of me. I love you so much.” She hugged him gently, careful not to squeeze too hard.

  “But?”

  Ursula smiled sadly. “But my heart weeps for the broken, missing, and maimed, Papa. I know I’m fortunate, but I grieve my personal losses—Anna and singing.”

  Otto nodded. “I know. I miss her too. She’s always with the Führer now. I can’t even remember when we saw her last.”

  “Hello?” someone called out in English.

  “Willy!” Ursula rushed out of the bedroom and covered him in kisses. “Good evening, Herr, um, Mr. Hitler. How lovely to feel you.”

  Willy burst out laughing and responded in English. “Good evening, Miss Becker. It is lovely to see you as well.” Ursula laughed at her gaffe. Willy embraced her and returned to German. “Your English is excellent, Fräulein.”

  “Danke, Herr Hitler.”

  Otto cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but do we not have an appointment to keep this evening?”

  Willy shook Otto’s hand. “Of course, you are right, Herr Becker.” Willy glanced at his wristwatch. “We shall leave the apartment in twenty minutes.”

  “Twenty minutes!” Ursula exclaimed. “I have so much to do!” She rushed back into her bedroom and slammed the door.

  Willy took a seat at the kitchen table. “What will happen to your apartment, Herr Becker?”

  Otto looked around. “Well, most of our belongings, at least the ones of value, have been confiscated. And the furniture? I think it will be taken after we leave. In fact, I plan on leaving the door ajar as we exit. No use making people work to steal our things.” He smirked.

  “You have a wonderful attitude. It will serve you well in England.”

  Otto bowed his head in appreciation of the compliment and turned serious. “Do you think we’ll have any trouble getting on the ship?”

  Willy paused. Otto’s question was fraught with perilous possibilities. He decided to be direct in his answer. “We’ll be traveling on a Swedish ship. Sweden’s neutrality will allow the vessel safe passage, especially because this particular ship is used for repatriation between the United States, England, and Germany. I’ve spoken with my uncle and told him that I’m going to England to check on my mother, which is true. And that I’ll return within one month, which is, of course, not true.”

  Since Otto’s beating, Hitler had been busy running the war. While he was preoccupied with opening new concentration camps and defending his conquests, Japan had attacked the United States, drawing it into the world conflict. In response, Germany and Italy had declared war on the United States. Hitler was so busy strategizing his next move and protecting his ever-growing empire, that his obsession with Ursula had been relegated to periodic check-ins via telephone calls with Willy. Through the communication, Willy had rebuilt trust and once again enjoyed a jovial relationship with his uncle.

  “Having said that, I don’t foresee any problems. Your passports are in order, as are your additional identification papers. Our ship tickets are right here.” Willy removed three folded documents from his suit pocket and placed them on the table. “I believe that we’re ready to go.” He glanced at Ursula’s door. “Does she understand that she may carry only two suitcases aboard the ship?”

  Otto shook his head. “I’ve told her that, but who knows?” He threw up his hands. “She’s just like her mother. Stubborn, beautiful, and more stubborn.” Willy laughed as Ursula exited her room with two suitcases in tow.

  “Ah, so you did follow the instructions. Excellent!” Ursula returned to her room and withdrew another two bags. Willy stood and crossed his arms. “Ursula, I told you that the ship allows only two bags per person.”

  “But I can’t decide.”

  “You must.”

  Ursula pouted and considered her options. “Fine, but when I’m wearing the same dresses day after day, I don’t want to hear a word from you.”

  Willy smiled. “I’ll buy you one hundred new dresses once we’re settled.”

  Ursula narrowed her eyes. “One hundred?”

  He nodded.

  “Then we have a deal,” she said as she returned two bags to her room.

  “Just like her mother,” Otto muttered. “The ultimate negotiator.”

  ***

  The ship was scheduled to leave from the port of Hamburg. The ride from Berlin would normally take approximately five hours, but given the frequent checkpoints, it was taking longer. Ursula was subdued as she considered the possibility of never returning to Germany. Given recent events, she no longer questioned Willy’s political acumen, so when he warned her that the situation would worsen, she took him seriously. Her only regret was leaving Anna behind, but she was certain that her sister would never leave the Führer. Although she would miss seeing Anna, she now understood that she’d lost her the day she’d met Hitler.

  Ursula looked out the window and watched the fallow fields fall away as the car sped from persecution and bigotry. The last few months had taught her to value the moment, to act quickly and decisively in favor of those she cherished. She was excited to begin anew in England with Willy by her side, and the opportunity to sing again with Carl Ebert and Max Schmidt was simply icing on the proverbial cake. She fell asleep dreaming of performing in English at Glyndebourne.

  ***

  She awakened to find Willy entering the parking lot at the Hamburg dockyard. Nazi uniforms were everywhere, and her anxiety spiked. Willy had assured her that no one in Hamburg would recognize her, and that even if they did, he was confident that he could talk his way out of any situation that might arise. As if sensing her unease, he said, “My uncle is far too busy to worry about us, Ursula. Not everyone knows that you’re Jewish, even though it might feel that way. Remember, your papers indicate otherwise.” He smiled reassuringly and she relaxed.

  Willy withdrew their six suitcases, paid a valet to carry them aboard, and dropped his keys in the front seat.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  Willy smiled. “We can’t take it with us.”

  “So, you’re just leaving it here?”

  “Someone will steal it before day’s end. I thought I’d make it easier for the thief by leaving the keys.”

  Ursula turned her attention to the massive ships that crisscrossed the Elbe River, some carrying cargo while others carried people. Tugboats chugged alongside of the larger ships, urging their charges to move faster in order to make way for incoming vessels. Willy had informed her that Hamburg boasted the third busiest port in the world, but she had had no idea how active the harbor would be. On the shore, the Bismarck monument towered over the crowds of people jockeying for position as queues formed to buy tickets and board ships. Nazi officers observed the controlled chaos with an air of detachment as boys dressed in khaki, miniature Nazi uniforms played tag. The girls, dressed in strapped leather shoes, white ankle socks, and short dresses, looked on enviously, giggling when a boy was tagged.

  “Well, what do you think?” Willy asked.


  “It is . . . it is . . .”

  “Amazing,” Otto breathed.

  Willy placed his hand on Otto’s shoulder. “Our ship is called the Drottningholm.”

  “I see,” she said as she examined the roiling water of the Elbe River.

  Willy followed her gaze. “You’ll be fine, Ursula. I’ve purchased tickets that allow us each a cabin of our own, so you’ll have a porthole and space in which to relax during the voyage. Besides, when you’re aboard, you won’t feel the movement of the water.”

  Ursula raised her eyebrows, unsure whether to believe him. Otto, ever logical, offered, “Ursula, it doesn’t matter whether or not you feel the churn of the waves, as we’re boarding that ship!”

  They made their way among the throngs of people and found the gangway. Once they had joined the queue, Ursula took a moment to observe the family directly in front of them. A tall, regal woman wearing a mink stole and pearls clutched the arm of her well-dressed spouse, who smoked a hand-rolled cigarette and smiled as if he hadn’t a care in the world. The woman turned to Ursula and smiled primly, her apprehension evident as she glanced nervously at the ship and then at the raucous river. Their two children stood in front of them, and Ursula focused on the boy, who poked his sister until she collapsed in tears halfway up the gangway. The embarrassed woman turned to Ursula, apologized for her son’s disobedience, and grabbed the child’s ear to drag him the rest of the way.

  “That could be you someday,” Willy whispered.

  “I certainly hope not,” she sniffed.

  “You don’t want children?”

  “Perhaps. But not a child like that.”

  Willy laughed. “Boys are different than girls, Ursula. You have no experience with taking care of boys.”

  Ursula made a show of considering his words. “Then I believe that I shall give birth only to girls.”

  Otto barked out a guffaw, the lighthearted mood infecting all three of them. “Just like her mother,” he muttered, shaking his head and smiling.