The Road to Liberation: Trials and Triumphs of WWII

by Marion Kummerow

  “You are the bravest person I know, Magda. You’re the one amid that devil’s lot.” Renata pulled her away and shook her a little. Her eyes grazed over Magda’s crooked nose, and she leaned in to kiss Magda’s cheek before releasing her. “Besides, Aleš is my husband now. I am with him wherever he is, even if it’s underground like mice in a cellar.” Her smile dissipated. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry about how it all turned out.”

  “Don’t.” Magda would cry, and she did not have the luxury. Not here. She took a deep breath, steadied herself. “Kiss the boys for me, please. Hug them tight.”

  On the way back up the hill and to the mansion, Magda stopped along the road, stepped blindly into the woods, and, when she was out of sight, finally allowed herself a good cry.

  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.

  Magda pressed Samuel against her and fled behind Aleš, just barely registering Renata bursting through the front door.

  “Go,” Aleš shouted at Renata. “Now!”

  Where? Where was Renata to go? But Aleš grabbed Magda’s hand and dragged her and the baby up the stairs to the third floor. At the end of the hall, he threw open his bedroom door. As in Magda’s room, the attic windows overlooked the gardens, and they stood open. Below, the military trucks were pulling into the drive.

  Magda glanced down at Samuel. His eyes were wide, and he made little noises, his breaths coming quicker. She hugged him to her and bounced him. Please don’t cry. Please!

  Aleš lowered Eliška to the floor, then opened his wardrobe. Inside, his few items of clothing were neatly hung or folded. On the bottom of the wardrobe, two goose-down covers were stacked one over the other.

  Eliška looked chastised, as if she were about to be unjustly punished.

  Aleš grasped her shoulders. “We’re going to play a game, all right, Eliška?”

  The girl tucked in her chin, and Magda could see that she did not believe him.

  “Nobody except Magda or me is allowed to let you out.”

  “But why?” Eliška asked.

  “Because that’s the game.” Aleš’s voice sounded strained. “You like playing new games, right?”

  The girl nodded again as a tear rolled down the side of her face. Magda tried an encouraging smile, but Eliška resisted when Aleš coaxed her toward the hiding place.

  From below, truck doors slammed and voices fired commands. Aleš stood and grabbed the circumcision box from Magda’s hands and threw it open on the bed. “There should be opium.”

  Magda handed him the vial Dr. Tauber had pointed out earlier, had said it would never be used for the ceremony, but just in case…

  Aleš popped it open, used his forefinger, and then told Eliška to open her mouth. She obeyed. He rubbed the girl’s gums with his finger. “This is a magic potion, Eliška, part of the game. You’re Sleeping Beauty, and I will be the prince who wakes you up.”

  Magda covered her mouth and bit her palm, the sob stuck in her throat.

  Aleš lifted one of the goose-down covers.

  “Go on, my little finch,” Magda said.

  Obediently, whether from shock or trust, Eliška slipped between the two coverlets but protested as he lowered the top one over her.

  Her hand appeared from beneath the cover. “It’s dark, Aleš. Don’t leave me here alone.”

  Below them, dogs began barking.

  Coming into the kitchen, Magda nearly jumped back at the sight of Frau Koenig’s rigid stance, as if she had been waiting for her all the time Magda had been gone.

  “Where have you been?” the woman demanded. Her hair had been scraped back into a severe crown of braids. Her cheeks were flushed, and her hands were holding her enormous belly as if she were showcasing a trophy.

  Jana was cutting up old bread as if nothing unusual was happening. A bowl of apples lay browning in the warm kitchen.

  Magda raised the sack containing the meagre list of items and dropped it onto the table. “Supplies.”

  “I thought you went yesterday,” Frau Koenig said. “I sent you out for them yesterday.” She grabbed the sack, pulled it to her, and opened it. “Where are the tins of milk? Where is the sugar? Ration cards for pregnant wives—for officers’ wives—secure special provisions!”

  Feigning repentance, Magda lowered her eyes beneath the woman’s glare. Lying, and pretending. Renata said it would become easier with regular use. “I’m sorry, Frau Koenig.”

  “And the supply train?” The woman was easing her way toward hysteria. “You missed the first run to the supply train?”

  Looking as remorseful as possible, Magda said, “Nearly emptied by the time I arrived. I had to trade just to get all this.”

  “All this?” Frau Koenig balled one hand into a fist, her face a blend of despair and fury. “What should I do with this rubbish? What good are my ration coupons if we can’t get the things we need? We have six guests coming to dinner tonight.”

  Jana cast Magda an irritated look, then shrugged at Frau Koenig. “I’ll make do, Frau Koenig. Always do. I’ve still got some things in the garden. Perhaps you would like to go up to the library and we’ll bring you a cup of tea. You really ought to have a rest.”

  Frau Koenig shifted on swollen feet and rubbed her hands along her sides. “I won’t have this.” But she had deflated. “This is what? The second, third time it’s happened?”

  Magda glanced at Frau Koenig’s belly. Four times. Four times in three months.

  Jana touched her temple, giving the woman a knowing look. “She had one of her spells again.”

  Frau Koenig huffed and cast another resentful look at the sack. “Spells or no spells, the lieutenant colonel will certainly hear about this. One of these days I will get the whole story about what happened to your face, Magd.”

  Magda tensed beneath Frau Koenig’s rising anger and looked at the floor to save herself.

  “And draw me a bath!”

  As soon as the woman stormed out, Jana went to Magda and patted her shoulder. “It’s over for now.”

  Magda shook her head. “Magd,” she jeered.

  On the day of Samuel’s Bris Milah, the lieutenant colonel had wasted no time in requisitioning the villa and replacing Aleš with new personnel. Koenig double-checked records, making certain that the new groundskeeper could prove at least four generations of German lineage. Jana could, so he decided that she and Magda would be left for his wife to decide their fates. The day Frau Koenig had arrived to Villa Liška, she had ordered them to line up before her, as if on roll call. Frau Koenig—with a bark of a laugh—said she would keep Magda on, as Magd in German meant “servant” anyway. Besides, what with the birthmark and crooked nose, the scar beneath her eye, Magda—Frau Koenig had assured herself aloud—would keep her head down and do as she was told. Who else would want to hire someone with such an ugly list of disfigurements? After they were dismissed, she had stopped Magda.

  “I have my eye on you. Don’t think I don’t know how you were involved with that criminal groundskeeper. I know about his questioning, what he tried to do. I know how he protected you. I’ll have none of that in my prestigious home.”

  Her prestigious home!

  Jana pulled Magda out of her reverie with another touch. “I’ll deliver the tray to the library. You go upstairs and prepare that woman’s bath.”

  When the bath was ready, Magda returned downstairs and halted at the bottom. There were fresh roses in Frau Tauber’s Venetian glass vase. They did not deserve to look that beautiful. Worse yet there was a new photograph next to it. Obersturmbannführer Richard Koenig. The dark hair swept to the side over a broad forehead. That penetrating gaze from protruding eyes. His square jaw, and collar, the SS pin, the iron cross. The boxer’s physique. This was the man whose power and privilege overshadowed not only
the government of Litoměřice but of Villa Liška.

  “What are you staring at,” Frau Koenig snapped. She stood in the corridor, pressing on her sides. “Is that bath ready?”

  “Yes. I was coming to get you.”

  “And having an argument with the flowers on the way?” She approached, and Magda stepped aside. Frau Koenig glanced at the photo, then at Magda. “Go set the dining table. And tell Jana to bring my dinner upstairs tonight.”

  “Won’t you be eating with the rest of the guests?”

  Frau Koenig grimaced. “You truly are daft. Nobody wants to see a woman in my condition.”

  The woman ascended with slow, heavy steps and disappeared into the master bedroom.

  When the Taubers’ cuckoo announced seven o’clock, Magda was just starting on the silverware, the set that Frau Koenig had brought with her from Austria. She looked up, her chest pricking painfully. Obersturmbannführer Koenig would be home soon.

  “He has to see you,” Renata had instructed from the beginning. “Koenig must be used to seeing you so that he will have little reason to find your presence suspicious. You have that household to run. Use that as your excuse for being underfoot should he complain.”

  The trouble was Magda's first instinct was always—always—to flee.

  7

  June 1942

  When Koenig arrived at the villa, Magda was laying out the last of the silverware. Her heart picked up speed, then jumped when she heard two men’s voices. It was just after seven. Frau Koenig would not be pleased if the dinner guests were coming too early, but the footfalls did not near the drawing room or the dining room. Instead, they went straight to Dr. Tauber’s office. Koenig might occupy it, but it was still Dr. Tauber’s office. She flipped one of the knives so that its blade faced the plate, then stepped into the foyer to enquire whether she should bring refreshments.

  She was too late. They were both inside. But the office door was cracked open. Magda positioned herself to the right but not before catching a glimpse of Koenig standing over the desk, opening a file. On the other side of the table, she saw a pair of uniformed legs and black boots. The visitor sat in the chair she had been in that last day, that day Koenig had first appeared on the property.

  She heard the shuffle of papers and Dr. Tauber’s leather chair giving way to its new occupant.

  “You were right to come to me, Major,” Koenig said. “This is very grave indeed.”

  “There are—I’m sorry to say—still many sympathizers and traitors to the Reich.” A smooth, Czech-accented reply. Magda recognized the voice as one of Dr. Tauber’s former patients. The man continued, accusation dripping in his tone. “The locals are up in arms. The Christians. They know that Theresienstadt is no longer for just enemies of the Reich but for Jewish—”

  “Jews,” Koenig snarled, “are the enemy of the Third Reich. I hope that is absolutely clear. They and the people who are trying to hide them.”

  There was a brief silence before the Czech man said, “We executed them on the street. To make that very message clear.”

  Whom? Whom did they murder? Magda’s heart hung by a tendril, and she felt nauseated. Her body tensed, prepared to flee. She stared at the vase of roses. Magda stayed.

  “That is unfortunate,” Koenig said.

  “I’m sorry?” The major’s confusion was evident.

  “I want interrogations, Major. Information! Your department is to squelch any organized resistance. And we need names. Do you understand me?”

  “I do.” Something scuffed across the rug in the office.

  Magda took a step toward the dining room. A bang—a fist against the desk. Her insides leapt, but her feet froze.

  “Sit back down, Major. I’m not finished. This convent you found the child in…”

  Magda clamped a hand over her mouth, the howl swallowed down.

  “We believe he was the only one” was the weak reply.

  Koenig’s voice skewered the air, sharp as a blade. “The only…the only one?”

  There was silence. Then pacing. Koenig. Magda forced herself to stay put. She had to know Koenig’s next move.

  “Where there is one rat, there are many. I want every single house, building, and barn in this county overturned. No exceptions.”

  “But we—”

  “Every single person questioned. Every man and child is to be stripped. On the sidewalks if you have to. Every man and boy, do you hear me?”

  “Yes, Herr Obersturmbannführer!”

  “Not one single building or haystack in this entire county is exempt.”

  “I understand, Herr Obersturmbannführer.”

  “Not even mine, Major! And you treat my orders as if they are directly from the Führer himself!”

  Magda fled to the dining room. She had managed to get behind the door just as the men, their voices lower now, emerged from the office.

  She heard them speaking, heard each Heil Hitler, and then the front door fell shut. She pushed the swinging door into the service room, racking her brain as to how she could flee the house without being noticed.

  “Magdalena!”

  She froze. Koenig was in the dining room.

  “Magdalena, where are you?”

  She stepped out, grasping her shaking hands behind her back. His eyes bored into her, and Magda felt searing heat rising up her neck. She was certain her guilt would bleed right into her birthmark.

  Koenig’s eyes rested on the table. “We’ll take our dinner immediately. I’ve canceled the other guests. I’m returning to town as soon as possible. I have business to attend to.”

  Hunting down Jews. “Of course.”

  He narrowed his eyes, his look scraping along her face. “Then come back to my office. I want to speak to you. I received a call from Frau Koenig about an incident between you two today.”

  “Yes, Obersturmbannführer. I understand.”

  He scowled and stalked out, taking the stairs two at a time.

  Magda fell against the doorframe, stumbled to the table, where she held on before her legs buckled beneath her. When her heart stopped galloping enough for her to stand again, she stared at her image in the mirror on the far wall. Koenig might see the birthmark as reason to treat her cruelly, but it was the crooked nose, the scar beneath her left eye, that were his constant reminder of how she’d once tried to defy him.

  Aleš gently pressed the wardrobe closed on Eliška before giving Magda and Samuel a once-over. He dropped onto all fours near the bed and pried open three floorboards. From the bed, he grabbed a thin blanket and stuffed it between the slats.

  How long had he been planning this?

  “Do the same for Samuel,” he said, taking the box and shoving it deep beneath the floor. “Get some opium on your finger, rub it on his gums. Not too much, but the children must sleep through this.”

  Magda grabbed the vial and followed Aleš’s procedure with Samuel, forcing his mouth open and just putting a couple drops onto his gums. The baby’s face scrunched up in protest and turned bright red at the foreign taste. Magda handed him over to Aleš, her empty arms lead.

  “What is that?” She pointed to what looked like a pillowcase near the blanket.

  “The Taubers’ possessions,” Aleš said.

  She remembered the box of silverware he’d carried upstairs the day Dr. Tauber had been banned from the hospital. Aleš pushed things deeper beneath the floor, then lowered Samuel between the slats.

  Magda helped place the floorboards back into their position.

  Aleš spoke quickly. “It’s jewelry, some valuables, things that they can sell if they―”

  Escape this? “How? How did you know?”

  Aleš, his forehead gleaming with exertion, looked gravely at her. “We managed papers for them to Switzerland. Next week. Dr. Tauber had these ready and asked me to—”

  From the wardrobe, Eliška whimpered, and Magda had to hold herself back from opening it. Instead, she scrambled over to where she knew the girl would be a
ble to hear her.

  “What’s wrong, child?”

  Thickly, Eliška said, “I feel funny. I want Mama. Where’s Papa?”

  “I have to watch after your brother.” Magda’s voice betrayed her despair. “Wait for us. We’ll come get you when it’s…time.”

  “Magda, no. Don’t leave me.”

  Two floors below them, the barking dogs invaded the house, and heavy boots drummed on the marble foyer. Doors opened and slammed, and something shattered like glass. A shot fired.

  Magda rushed to the window. An SS officer, his pistol aimed at the sky, stood in the midst of police and soldiers as the Taubers and their guests were herded onto the lawn before him. There was one familiar figure, and Magda gasped.

  “That’s Walter!”

  There were shouts coming from the staircase. Aleš grabbed Magda and steered her out the door. On the second floor, they nearly collided with three Waffen-SS soldiers. They were nothing but young boys, newly graduated recruits.

  Aleš and Magda did not resist when two of them seized them and marched them down to the foyer and to the veranda doors. Magda winced at the swarm of soldiers ransacking the house. Outside, a pair of soldiers allowed their German shepherds to snarl and bark around the terrified group.

  It seems too easy, giving them a feeling of security only to hunt them down.

  It’s the way things are done, Magda. It’s how we control the population.

  Outside, Dr. Tauber had draped his suit coat over Frau Tauber’s shoulders, and she was pressed up against him, her face a grotesque mask of horror. The SS officer in charge, a man with a square jaw and a face as cold as a steel trap, spotted the soldiers with Aleš and Magda and waved them over. Magda did not recognize him.

  “Who else is in the house?” the commander snapped. He turned to Walter behind him. “Lieutenant! Inventory!” His German had a Viennese accent.

  Walter scanned the crowd, his eyes grazing over her as she was shoved at gunpoint into the terrified group on the lawn. She sought out Jana, who slipped her hand into Magda’s and held on tightly. Where was Renata? Where had she gone? To her left, Magda felt Ruth Tauber’s eyes boring into her. Magda could not look at her. She would certainly give something away.