The Road to Liberation: Trials and Triumphs of WWII

by Marion Kummerow

  But they were coming out of that cruel winter leaner and tougher. Now, with the birds singing and the sun rising over the fields, Magda could forget the cold.

  There were three pregnant does. The big stag, Walter said, had to be somewhere in the forest nearby.

  Magda had been feeling anxious for them all winter. “I’m glad there won’t be any hunting this year. You feed them all winter only to release them in the spring. It seems too easy, giving them a feeling of security only to hunt them down.”

  Walter shrugged. “It’s the way things are done, Magda. It’s how we control the population. Some animals are castrated. Some we hunt for sport.”

  That word “we” again.

  “Dr. Tauber usually waited a few weeks until after they’d dispersed,” she said. “At least he did that.”

  “It does make the chase more exciting.” Walter looked down at her. “How are they?”

  There was a tone of regret in his voice, and it gave Magda pause. She wanted to tell him about the excitement in the past week, how the spirits in the house had lifted, brushing off the dingier layers of war. For the past seven days, Renata and she had not heard a single whisper about the rumors that Jews were being forced to build a ghetto across the river. Magda had not caught Dr. Tauber standing on the ridge above the rose garden and looking across the Elbe. It seemed he had laid aside the guilt that shrouded him. There was no mention of the friends in Switzerland or of how another village had been emptied of all its Jews. Of collaborators who had hidden entire families being executed by Nazis. Instead, in Samuel’s wake, the darkness had dissipated.

  It was Dr. Tauber’s significant patient list that had kept them squirreled away on the hill. He’d been allowed to continue seeing the chief of police, even the new mayor, who had replaced Brauer shortly before Christmas. Villa Liška, the authorities felt, was far enough away that the comings and goings of his patients were kept discreet, and for as long as the Obergruppenführer needed Dr. Tauber, for now that he had been diagnosed with cancer, he did need him and he did tolerate a Jew doctor.

  Or maybe, Magda thought, it was Walter’s doing. Perhaps he had somehow contributed to the lax status the Taubers enjoyed. But if Walter had done something, he never mentioned it in his letters. In turn she had not yet shared the news of Samuel’s birth with him, or about the circumcision feast tomorrow, or her role in it. He did not, if she guessed correctly, even know that Frau Tauber had been expecting.

  When Walter walked toward the granary, she tested him, like dipping a toe into the water. “Will you not come and say hello to the Taubers? Surely they would love to see you. It’s been over half a year since you’ve been here.”

  “I have to go back today.” Walter squeezed her hand lightly, his eyes shifting away. “But I wanted to see you, Magda. It’s possible that I will be promoted. Just to second lieutenant, but it’s a step up. You know, officers have privileges.” He paused and gazed up at the cedars across the road, their scent wet and heavy. “I’ll be going to the front soon. To the east.”

  Her brothers. So far they were both safe, last she’d heard. She swayed, clutching his arm to her, like a rope. “When?”

  “Within the week.”

  “Then you must come and say goodbye to everyone. At least to Aleš. He still laments your absence to Renata and me. We could have breakfast together like we used to.”

  Walter pressed his lips together. “I…” The shake of his head was almost imperceptible as he eyed the grounds beyond the gate. “I’d better not.”

  Loyalty to one party would mean having to sever his loyalties to the other. Frau Tauber had said, We will send a signal that we can live together. Utter nonsense. Now she was disappointed. No, Walter had no hand in the Taubers’s mild reprieve.

  Magda could not keep the bitterness out of her tone. “They will be sorry when I tell them you were here.”

  “Then don’t tell them.”

  Her hand went limp in his. “I won’t.”

  He let go of her under the pretense of walking her back across the road, back to the villa, but he stopped outside the gate. “I have to get back, Magda. I’ll write you every day. You know”—he brushed a hand over her right cheek—“I really would like to like you. I don’t know. Maybe I do need to spend more time with you. I promise, next time.”

  Like he’d promised to collect the eggs with her? But his gaze was elsewhere now, and she followed it to the veranda, where Renata, Aleš, and she had built up the canopy yesterday. They had been enjoying the warm weather this past week, and Ruth Tauber had insisted on an outdoor gathering. Aleš and Renata were supposed to carry the canopy to the rose garden later, mainly to keep the party out of sight from the main road.

  “What’s that?” Walter asked.

  “Nothing. Just a party for—” He doesn’t know, Magda. “A birthday party.”

  Walter frowned, and his eyes darkened. “You’ll be there, I suppose.”

  On an impulse, she threw her arms around his waist, surprising herself. She had to say something. She had to at least try and pull him back in. “I’ll write to you. I promise. Stay awhile. Come inside.”

  He drew away, gentle but firm. “I can’t.” He gazed at her, searching for something. “You know, I could love you?”

  When he leaned down to kiss her, she yielded in hopes of reaching him like this, but when she pictured them from afar—a tall and slim fellow and a short, round girl with an unchartered map imprinted on her cheek—she could not find a way.

  The next morning was again glorious, and with Frau Tauber’s excitement and Dr. Tauber’s solemnity, the house staff swung between the two nervous moods. There had been an argument last night. Magda had overheard the Taubers as she put Eliška to bed, catching snippets of raised voices. Something about how the mitzvah could be too great of a risk. Frau Tauber, however, insisted, and Dr. Tauber finally gave in. A small number of guests, the closest of their remaining friends, had been invited. They were all Gentiles.

  Magda dressed in her finest, a flowing white blouse and a navy-blue skirt with delicately embroidered flowers along the hem and up the middle. As she came down the stairs a half hour before the guests were to arrive, Dr. Tauber stepped outside his office and gazed approvingly at her.

  “You look lovely, Magdalena. Will you step in, please?”

  Magda noted his uncertain smile as he held the door open for her. Had the Taubers reconsidered? Or had they only reconsidered making her a part of the ceremony? Resolved to keep the disappointment from her face, she walked in.

  “Take a seat, Magdalena.” He was grave indeed as she sank onto the plush chair. He waited for her to get comfortable before perching on the edge of his desk before her. He wore a dark suit, finely tailored to his angular figure. His hair had always been a little longer than fashionable, and today it was slicked back.

  “I wanted to tell you about the custom and what to expect, explain what it is that I will be doing.”

  Magda relaxed, her worry replaced by curiosity and his confidence.

  “This might be a little embarrassing, Magdalena, and I want you to feel comfortable. I also want to assure you that although Samuel will feel some pain, it’s part of the mitzvah. The procedure is very safe.”

  He reached for a box lying next to him on the desk. The leather hide that covered it was kept in place by silver implements and closed with a silver latch. Dr. Tauber set it on his lap and opened it so that she could examine the contents inside. She now saw that the box was made of wood. Inside were a small silver flask, two tiny silver trays, a strangely shaped instrument, a silver pointer, and another vial.

  Dr. Tauber removed the strange instrument first and held it up. It was flat and shaped like a rounded A without the line in the middle. When he showed it to her up close, Magda realized it was a two-sided knife.

  “There is almost no blood, Magdalena. When I uncover Samuel, I will pull his foreskin above the glans and then shave it off. It is almost like removing a skin protrusion.�
�� He held her look. “Have you ever seen something like that done?”

  Like a wart or a mole. “It’s fine, Herr Doktor. I understand.”

  He smiled, plainly relieved. “There are several blessings, and the guests will have to respond. Frau Tauber has written them out for our guests. You won’t understand what we’re saying.”

  Magda glanced at the waxy anatomical models. “Dr. Tauber?” She need only ask. "Would you mind explaining the rest of the procedure and the ceremony yourself?”

  An hour later, in the rose garden overlooking the valley, Samuel was presented to her and they were led to sit on a chair beneath the canopy, where Dr. Tauber waited. He smiled at her serenely, and Magda’s heart soared as she lowered Samuel onto her lap. All around her, the guests offered quiet encouragement. The Dvoráks had driven up from Prague, and Anna Dvorákova had treated Magda like a star in one of her films, explaining to everyone else that this was the Magdalena, the one who had rescued Eliška from the burning nursery, and how delightful it was that the Taubers had bestowed Magda with the honor of Samuel’s sandek.

  First, Dr. Tauber sanitized Magda’s hands with alcohol, then he addressed the gathering, requesting permission from the community.

  The people around Magda answered with a quiet but assured “L’chaim”—to life.

  After the first blessing, Dr. Tauber began the procedure, and Magda watched, holding still, taking it all in, as if she would later be examined about it all. Samuel’s little body spasmed at the incision, and then a cry of surprise exploded from him. There were soft chuckles, and someone clapped. Murmuring the next blessing, Dr. Tauber carefully placed the removed foreskin onto one of the trays.

  He brushed a tear from Samuel’s cheek and kissed the top of Magda’s head. “We thank you. My children thank you.”

  With the ceremony over, Magda stood with Samuel. Frau Tauber fed him and swaddled him tightly.

  “He’ll sleep for a while, now,” she said. “Take him. It’s your day together.”

  The guests sang praises or cooed over the baby as Magda made her way to Frau Tauber and Eliška. Above the singing, a droning sound hummed in the distance. Magda extended the child to Frau Tauber and whirled around, facing the house. The sound of engines was coming from the main road. Gears clattered. Magda knew that sound. They’d been in her farmyard. They’d brought back her father and taken her brothers.

  Magda sprinted to the house, past the pool and up the veranda stairs. Chills ran over her body at the sight of the first truck just a short distance down the hill. Other vehicles followed the first. One, two, three of them, and a black Mercedes Benz with the two flags. Maybe they would drive by. Maybe the Obergruppenführer had mistaken an appointment. But he never came with trucks.

  She had every intention to bar the gate. She did not know how, and by the time she reached the slope of the lawn, the rest of the party had gathered there.

  “The children!” It was Dr. Tauber. It was a demand. He shoved the leather-covered box under Magda’s arm, sealed with the instruments inside. “Hide them. Now.”

  She understood he meant the children and the box. The box would give Samuel’s very existence away. But when Magda saw Frau Tauber’s eyes widen, Magda froze and faced the granary. Where the border of the field met the woods across the road, the three does were bounding toward them. All three leapt onto the road before the first truck. There was nowhere to go except the iron gate, and they scattered in panic, springing between the vehicles as if the pavement electrocuted them.

  Aleš barreled between Frau Tauber and Magda, snatched Eliška into his arms, and pushed Magda with Samuel into the house. Behind her, she heard the first truck brake to a halt at the iron gates. Not the front gate used by visitors and patients, but the service road gate.

  II

  June 1942

  6

  June 1942

  Magda stepped out of the bakery, the bag of bread clutched in her fist. When she reached St. Stephen’s, she checked once more to make sure she had not been followed. She slipped her hand into her pocket and touched her talisman. Certain that nobody paid any attention to her in the streets, she made the sign of the cross and entered the church through the side. Today, it was empty. Magda went to the door leading to the back of the crypts below. She rapped in two quick successions, paused, and tapped three more times. On the other side, the iron bolt scraped across the heavy wooden door. As soon as it was opened wide enough, Magda slipped through.

  “There you are,” Renata said. She peered over Magda’s shoulder and shut the door, then motioned for Magda to follow. “I’ve got everything downstairs.”

  She led Magda below the church. Magda fought off the feeling of being trapped like a hunted animal in a burrow and the dogs digging furiously above. As they passed beneath the stone arches, Renata’s footfalls made two different sounds—scuff-clack, scuff-clack. The heel of her left shoe was worn, probably exposing a nail. On either side of them were rows of coffins—centuries of royals and bishops—stacked in threes behind wrought iron gates. Beneath the scent of melted beeswax, the air was dank and musty. Renata stopped at one of the last gates and reached for the sconce, then retrieved a medieval-looking key. She turned it in the padlock and swung the gates open.

  Magda shuddered. It was sacrilege to be using the coffins, but Renata was already lifting the middle one open. Here was where they hid the Taubers’ possessions, the pilfered provisions, and the other weapons of their resistance. Here in these catacombs, Aleš’s youngest brother, Gabriel, now a deacon of the parish, had produced a death certificate for Renata. Then he had baptized her and married her to Aleš. Her wedding gift: the falsified documents and a new identity. A day where Renata experienced a life in reverse.

  “Have you got them?” Renata asked.

  Magda reached into her coat pocket and withdrew the extra ration cards. They were all there. The ration cards were their new currency and the way Aleš and Renata and Davide and who knew who else paid people to shut up and look the other way. This was how they planted food in the fields for the laborers from the Jewish ghetto, or near the railroad tracks for the prisoners unloading coal. They did this with the hope that it was somehow helping the Taubers inside.

  Renata rifled the coupons under her nose, as if inhaling the pages of a new book. She tapped them lightly against Magda’s cheek. A kiss of gratitude. “Thank Frau Koenig and the SS Obersturmbannführer for us.”

  Magda laughed abruptly at the absurdity.

  Renata reached into the second coffin, a bishop’s. “When is the witch due?”

  “Any day now.”

  “Then this will be one of the last times you have to do this.”

  “She keeps talking about how this is just the first of many. She wants one of those pins that the Führer gives to honor mothers.”

  “And in the Taubers’ house.” Renata turned around, holding a burlap sack. “It’s blasphemous! Damned Nazis breeding little Fascists. If it’s a girl, they’ll groom her into an obedient baby machine. If it’s a boy, he’ll be another soldier for Hitler.”

  Magda thought about that.

  “Your decoy.” Renata pushed the sack at her. “I think there is a wedge of cheese they managed. Some oil, nuts, and preserves. And a sack of flour.”

  But not the things Magda had had coupons for. She took the sack. “It’s been hard to invent excuses.”

  “You’ll learn.”

  “I came to tell you that there are six commanders coming to the house tonight.”

  “All right.” Renata nodded. “Aleš will come by then.”

  “Dinner’s at eight o’clock.” Magda looked at Renata’s scanty sack, opened it, and began to transfer the items into her bread bag. “Jana’s going to catch heat for this.”

  Renata scoffed. “I’m not worried about Jana. She always makes do. That woman is probably the most resourceful of any of us. Same place as always. You hear anything, anything at all, you leave us the message, all right?”

  �
��Yes. Of course.” Magda’s job was not to interpret but to relay.

  “And in an emergency?” Renata reminded. “If they suspect you in any way?”

  “Proverbs seven twenty-two.”

  “Proverbs seven twenty-two, and we’ll get you out.”

  Magda handed her the bread roll. “This came in too.”

  “And so we break bread again.” Renata smiled wryly. She took the roll and slowly tore it in half. The cream-colored slip of paper was exposed. She handed Magda half of the roll. They each took a bite, their ritual of swallowing secrets.

  Renata stuffed the rest of her roll into her mouth and unrolled the slip of paper. Her face fell.

  “What?” Magda asked.

  Renata handed her the slip. “Heydrich is dead.”

  Magda stared at the message. Not a week earlier, assassins in Prague had tried to assassinate the SS commander. He’d died of his wounds. The resistance fighters had been eliminated on the day of the attempt and killed in a church just like this one.

  “It means there will be reprisals.” Renata snatched the message back, brushed a hand over her curly mane. “Koenig’s going to go mad.”

  “What does that mean?” Magda swallowed, but her throat was tight. Right now she wanted to crawl into that coffin herself instead of going back outside and returning to the villa.

  “It means,” Renata said, steering Magda back to the stairwell, “you’re going to have a lot of information to transcribe.”

  They reached the top, and Renata pressed an ear to the door. Satisfied, she waved Magda through, but Magda spun around and hugged her tightly.

  “I miss you, you know? All of you.” She choked. “I wish it was you doing this, not me. You’re so much braver.”