Ursula noted some blank stares from the younger children.
Addi intervened. “Dignity is the manner in which someone carries herself with pride and respect.”
Ursula smiled. “Yes, and you need to know that each one of you is very dignified.”
The children grinned broadly as Ursula heard the audience become quiet.
“My point is, we are about to go on that stage, and you should be proud, so very proud of what we have accomplished already.” Ursula stopped and started to cry. “I guess I want you to know that working with you has been the most wonderful time of my life.” She paused to gather herself. “Now, go out there and continue to make me proud!”
Gideon Klein sat at the grand piano that had been brought into camp the previous day. Ursula poked her head out from behind the curtain and nodded to him, the predetermined sign for him to begin.
56
Willy was chatting quietly with Wallenburg when a hush fell over the crowd. He turned to see the Führer enter the auditorium, followed closely by Adolf Eichmann. The officers and soldiers in the room rose quickly and saluted. Hitler walked to a chair at the end of the first row and glanced dismissively at Willy, then sat and crossed his legs. At the same time, a dark-haired head peeked out from behind the curtain and nodded to the pianist. A surge of adrenaline rushed through Willy. His breath came shallow and fast. Although it had been only a glance, and the woman looked older and thinner than Ursula, Willy wondered if he had just seen his lost love.
57
The opera lasted forty-five minutes. During that time Ursula took several opportunities to steal glances at Hitler. If he recognized himself in the bully organ grinder character, Brundibár, he didn’t show it. Seeing him again made her feel physically ill, so she forced herself to pay attention to the show. At the end of the performance, the entire cast of Jewish children turned to Hitler and raised their right arms, offering ironic homage. Ursula peeked at Hitler again and saw him smile at the children. But the smile seemed forced, and she could tell by his eyes that something was bothering him. It’s me, she thought.
The audience jumped to its feet and applauded as the children took their bows. Once the cast had been recognized, Hans Krása emerged from behind the curtain and crossed to center stage.
“Good afternoon. Thank you so much for attending today. I am very proud to have written Brundibár, but I couldn’t have staged it without help. The creative costumes were created by Ilse Weber, and the makeup was done by Addi Lutz.” Ilse and Addi came out from behind the curtain and bowed, then joined the beaming cast.
“I would be mightily remiss if I didn’t introduce our wonderful accompanist, Gideon Klein.” Klein played the introduction to Brundibár before waving to the cheering crowd.
“Finally, allow me to present our vocal coach. These children have performed Brundibár many times in the past, but they have never sounded better than today, thanks to her hard work. No stranger to the stage, please welcome diva Ursula Becker.”
Ursula stepped from behind the curtain and waved at the audience. The applause crescendoed as she kissed her palms and threw them to the crowd, relishing the acknowledgment. She hadn’t realized how much she missed it. At this sublime moment, her preposterous dress didn’t matter. Her battered face and bony frame faded to the background. Nothing mattered but the music, the crowd, and the joy she felt. Her eyes landed on Hitler, and she felt a surge of anxious adrenaline. Wanting to extend the happy moment, she turned away from him and faced the right side of the audience.
Her breath caught as she saw Willy. His hands were at his sides, and he was smiling through his tears. She closed her eyes, confident that her imagination was torturing her. When she opened them, Willy had taken a step toward her. A sob burst from her throat, and she brought her hand to her mouth. Everything around him fell away as she took in his clothes, his smile, his eyes. The eyes that she had dreamed of and craved for two endless years. An eternity of hell.
The applause continued, and he lifted his hand to his cheek, silently asking about her stitches. Her hand went to the gash, and she nodded, unsure what else to do. Slowly she returned her gaze to Hitler, who stood perfectly still. His head was tilted, and his hands were clasped in front of him. A Mona Lisa smile sat on his thin lips.
58
Willy did nothing to stem the flow of tears. He felt weightless, a balloon that might float away on a gust of wind. Ursula seemed like a dream to him, more so because of her appearance. She was at least ten kilos lighter than the last time he’d seen her. Her pallor bordered on sickly, and she wore an extravagant dress that highlighted her weight loss. Her limbs looked too long for her lean frame. Her elbows and wrists seemed like knots in a thin piece of pine. Her glorious hair was shorter and listless, hanging heavy and straight. Her nose had clearly been broken, and she had a gash on her cheek that had been roughly sewn together with black thread. The overall appearance was that of a lightweight boxer who hadn’t simply lost a match but had been pummeled.
But her eyes. They radiated the same passion and brightness that he remembered, shining like beacons through her otherwise shocking appearance. Those eyes bored into him now, expressing everything she couldn’t say.
Take me home, Willy. Please.
59
Hitler took the stage to cheers and applause from the audience. As he crossed to center, Ursula drew the children close to her, instinctively wrapping her arms around as many of them as she could. He ignored her and lifted his hands to calm the raucous crowd. After several moments, he cleared his throat.
“What a wonderful performance we were privileged enough to see today. Thank you, Herr Krása, for such a fine example of how children can perform the highest art form. Your music was melodious, and the acting was first rate.” He turned around and held out his hand toward a little girl named Greta. The five-year-old didn’t hesitate to go to Hitler, who wrapped his arm around her and asked her name.
“Greta,” she answered shyly.
“What a beautiful name. You did a fine job today, Greta. Now, tell me, do you think that the entire cast of Brundibár should receive a surprise to celebrate their hard work?”
Greta nodded eagerly.
Hitler beamed at her. “Would you like to go on a train ride?”
Greta paused and looked at Ursula, whose terrified eyes were locked on Hitler.
“Don’t worry, Greta. Do you know how some families from Terezín recently went to a new camp? Well, you’ll be going to the same camp. It will be a great treat. There’s a glorious playground there. There are swings and ice cream.”
Greta’s eyes grew to saucers at the mention of ice cream. Ursula lurched forward and grabbed Greta’s shirt, dragging her away from Hitler. “Don’t do this!” she hissed.
Hitler laughed and glanced at the officers in the audience, who all started clapping.
He addressed Greta once more. “Should the entire cast go? Hans Krása, Ilse Weber, Addi Lutz, the children? Everyone except Fräulein Ursula, of course.”
Hitler stared at Ursula, and his smile transformed from kind to cruel. She glared at him, imagining tearing his eyes out. His pupils were dilated, and he appeared manic. He was sweating and jumpy. She wondered if he had taken some medication before coming to the camp. Coward! she thought. He can’t face what he’s done. Or perhaps what he’s about to do, she finished. She stepped forward while pushing Greta behind her. “No.” The crowd’s encouragement drowned out her words, so she took another step and yelled, “NO!”
The cheering ceased. Willy started to approach the stage, but Hitler turned abruptly. “Do not move, William,” he ordered. “Eichmann, gather the cast and get them on the train. It’s right outside, children. Hurry, or you’ll miss the ice cream.”
Ursula raised her arms. “No, children! Stop!” But they didn’t hear her and scampered off the stage. Ilse, Addi, and Krása stood f
rozen in place, unsure what to do. Rahm shot them a glance and jerked his head to the door, indicating they should follow the rest of the cast.
Wallenburg stepped toward Hitler. “What’s happening here, Herr Hitler?”
Hitler’s face was a mask of innocence. Only his excited eyes hinted at his sadism. “I’m sure that I don’t understand your implication. Have the conditions in this camp not exceeded your expectations of how the Jews are being treated?”
“Yes, but—”
“But what? Now, please excuse us. My nephew, Fräulein Becker, and I must speak in private.” He nodded at Rahm, then turned and exited the building.
Willy and Ursula shared a long look. So many words to be spoken, yet neither knew where to start. He approached the stage and held out his hand. She took it, then stepped off the stage into his arms. She gasped, and he gently released her. “What is it?”
Ursula looked away, embarrassed. “My ribs. They’re broken.”
Willy’s face became beet red. “Who did this?” he growled.
His depth of feeling touched her heart. How could she begin to explain the horrors she had witnessed and experienced, the deals she’d struck, the sacrifices she’d made. She lifted her hand and caressed his face. “I can’t believe that you’re here.”
Ursula felt something jab into her back and turned to find Rahm holding his pistol. “Outside. Now.”
“How dare you—” Willy started.
“Do not test me! She’s been nothing but trouble,” Rahm hissed. “You go too!”
Willy turned to find a confused Wallenburg gaping at him. “It’s alright. I’ll be right back.”
Rahm, Ursula, and Willy exited the building and crossed to Hitler, who leaned against his car and picked lint from the sleeve of his coat. Ursula saw Hitler’s driver, Erich, sitting inside the limousine, smoking a cigarette. He glanced at her and did a double take, then averted his eyes and resumed smoking.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t know your every move, you stupid boy?” Hitler spat each venomous word. “Did you think I would let you ride in on a white horse and steal her away from me?” He laughed, a high-pitched, deranged sound that resounded in Ursula’s core.
“Please, Uncle, just let me take her with me—”
Ursula noted that Hitler’s intense blue eyes were glassy, as if he were feverish, or had taken complete leave of his senses. “Oh, the time has passed for all of that. Perhaps if you had not shamed yourself with false accusations and claims against me. Maybe if you had not spread lies across the United States or if you had respected my wishes and left well enough alone. But you did none of that, and once again, Ursula will watch as others die in her stead.” He turned to Eichmann. “Is everyone on board?” he called.
“Yes, Führer.”
Hitler nodded, and Eichmann raised his hand above his head and moved it in a circle to indicate that the train should leave.
As it started to move, Ursula looked at Hans Krása, who stood quietly in the cattle car, alone amidst the sea of people. He stared straight ahead, clearly resigned to his fate. She heard her name and turned to find Ilse leaning out of an opening. Her eyes were desperate as she screamed, “The children, Ursula! Please!” Faces ran through Ursula’s mind: Markus, Marika, Fritz, the choir members. She had caused every one of their deaths. They lay in her heart like stones weighing her down. She looked at the children, so trusting and innocent, and realized that her conscience couldn’t abide one more death.
“Wait!” Ursula screamed. “Please wait! I’ll go. Take me! Please!” She ran toward the slow-moving train, then turned back to Hitler, who held up his hand to stop the train. Out of breath, she started sobbing. “Take me. In lieu of all of the children. I can’t play this game anymore.” She turned to Willy. “I wanted to see you one more time before I died. That was my nightly prayer, Willy, and you came.” She smiled through her tears and walked toward him. “You came. I love you so much.” Then her smile dropped, and her tone changed. “But I am tired. Tired of fighting, of being afraid, of not knowing whether I’ll live through another day. I just can’t do it anymore, especially if my living means that the children are sent to their deaths.”
She turned to Hitler and held his gaze. He was smug, defiant. He knew that he had won, but she didn’t care. Nothing mattered except saving the children. She dropped to her knees and joined her hands together in supplication. “Please. I am on my knees in front of you, just as you always wanted. I’m begging you, imploring you to take me instead of the cast.”
Hitler’s lips twisted into a look of complete disgust. “God, but you’re boring,” he said. “This isn’t how I envisioned this at all.” His visage changed into one of fascination. “You are truly broken. I honestly thought it would take more than a group of young Jewish brats to bring you to your knees. How utterly disappointing.”
He turned to Willy and pursed his lips. “I will grant your whore of a fiancée her wish, and you’ll watch as the train carrying her pulls away.”
“No!” Willy took a step toward Hitler, but Rahm stepped between them and backhanded Willy across the temple, sending him sprawling to the ground. Ursula rushed forward, but another guard intervened and held her from behind.
“Willy!” she screamed.
Hitler shook his head. “What was I thinking?” He examined her with a look of disgust. “Look at yourself. You’re pathetic. At least Geli had the dignity to end her own life. She was a woman of action. She never would have allowed herself to wither away as you have.” Hitler threw a pistol at her feet and laughed. “I will give you the same privilege, Fräulein. Shoot yourself and the children may live.”
“You are insane!” Willy hissed.
Hitler ignored him as he stared at Ursula. “You say that you are willing to die so the children may live. Pick it up.” She stared at the gun and imagined using it to kill him. As if reading her mind, SS guards surrounded the cattle car and aimed their weapons at the children.
She glared at him and slowly bent down to retrieve the gun.
“Ursula, don’t! Uncle, please . . . please don’t do this!” Willy begged.
A tear traced her cheek. “It’s alright, Willy. It’s my choice. I can’t stand it anymore.” She turned to Hitler, who had turned suddenly solemn. “Do you give me your word that the cast will live?”
“I do.”
She faced Willy. The desperation in his eyes broke her heart. “I love you so much, Willy. Thank you for never giving up on me.” She brought the gun to her temple.
“Ursula, do not pull that trigger!” Willy ordered.
“What’s happening here?” An angry Wallenburg appeared with the two Danish dignitaries trailing him. His mortified eyes went from Ursula to Hitler.
Hitler whipped around. “This is none of your concern. It is an unresolved personal matter. I strongly suggest that you and your Danish colleagues take your leave. I trust you’ve had a pleasant day here in Terezín, and that you will report that the Jews are enjoying a lovely town.” It was an order, not a question.
Wallenburg looked at Willy, who had risen slowly and was wiping blood from his face with a handkerchief. “I admit that your spa town seems pleasant, Herr Hitler. However, I’m concerned with what I’m witnessing at the moment.”
Hitler waved a hand towards a guard, who snatched the pistol from Ursula. Willy rushed over and gathered her in his arms.
“You’re misunderstanding the situation, Mr. Wallenburg. My nephew and I are having a disagreement. It happens in families.”
Wallenburg pointed to the train. “And what of that? Where is the cast going?”
Hitler smiled. “Nowhere, actually. They’ll be disembarking the train momentarily . . .” He faced Ursula. “And Fräulein Becker will be boarding.”
Willy’s head snapped up. “Absolutely not!”
Ursula felt lightheaded and realized that
she no longer wanted the responsibility of anyone else’s life on her shoulders. She just wanted everything to be over. She faced Willy. “I must go. So much has happened here . . . I can’t explain. I’ve done things.”
Willy took her chin in his hand and lifted her face to his. “Ursula, look at me. Nothing you’ve done here is your fault. Nothing. Do you hear me? You did what you had to do to survive.”
Ursula pulled away. “No, Willy. You can’t understand. I must go.” She turned to Hitler. “Unload the cast and I’ll board the train. But our agreement still stands.”
“I give you my word.”
She stared through him, defeated and exhausted. A melancholic peace replaced her fear and anxiety. She didn’t want to die, but seeing Willy again had strengthened her, allowing her to make the decision to offer her life in exchange for the children. She had caused so much suffering to others. Now she could repay her debt. A warmth spread through her core as she realized that her life had purpose and meaning. Knowing that the children would live made her smile.
“I will not allow it!” Willy ordered. He turned to Hitler and lowered his voice. “Uncle, hear me. Please. I know you loved Geli, and I understand the guilt you still feel so many years later.” Willy paused, and Ursula could see that he had reached beyond Hitler’s glassy gaze. “Your fascination . . . your obsession with Ursula is unhealthy. It’s founded on an unreasonable premise—that you can replace Geli with Ursula. But she is not Geli. She never will be, even if she agreed to love you.”
Ursula watched Hitler absorb Willy’s speech. His eyes darted back and forth as she imagined emotions competing for dominance in his troubled mind. He seemed to be softening, and, for a nonsensical moment, Ursula imagined that he allowed Willy to whisk her away. But suddenly his faraway look disappeared, replaced by hard, focused eyes. “But she didn’t.”
Swan Song Page 37
