“A film set?” Magda looked at each of them.
Davide scratched his head, as if he were considering what to say next. He dropped his hand. “It’s perverse.”
Between the three of them, Magda got the story. The Ministry of Propaganda had ordered a screenwriting contest, and though Aleš and Renata did not know who won or what the prize was, the camp guards asked for volunteers for everything, from actors and costumers to carpenters and electricians, everything. The two men from Prague were put on a carpentry detail. The Nazis chose who would take part in the film, dressed up the selected actors, plopped them into lavish settings with buffets and food, and made quite a spectacle of how wonderful it really was in Theresienstadt, because what else was it other than a cultural city meant to protect the Jews from the war?
As the two carpenters worked on the sets, they had managed to sabotage the inventory list of tools. They hid away some of the tools, thinking they could use them later to somehow escape or dig out hiding places within the ghetto, maybe even use them as weapons if they could organize a revolt. On the last day, they each strapped one last tool to their calves. They had had no idea they would need to use them very soon. Because after the filming, everyone who had been involved—except for those well-known celebrities—had been marched to the train station two miles away, put into cattle cars, and sent eastwards. The carpenters from Prague wasted no time.
Originally another man said he would join them if they could escape. But he never did make it. The two from Prague had managed to break through the floor of the cattle car but the other passengers in the carriage panicked. They complained that the rest of them would be executed as soon as the doors were opened and the Nazis discovered the hole. So they had tried to prevent them from jumping through. The passengers dragged the third jumper back up, and the carpenters did not know whether he had broken free, had fallen to his death, or had been killed by the other passengers in the struggle, or reached the concentration camp. They however managed to find a seminary, the same seminary where Father Gabriel had studied. He was the one who later brought the men to join Aleš and Renata.
“These men said a doctor has been trying to negotiate for medicines for the camp. Their description matches Dr. Tauber’s.” Renata bit her lip. “Magda, they say there is so much disease and malnutrition. The conditions are worse than we can imagine. We suspect Frau Tauber was in this film too. Karol—he’s one of the escapees—told us about a scene filmed with a woman playing the piano. It sounds very much like it could be Ruth.”
Magda could not fathom it. “And Eliška?”
Renata briefly closed her eyes. “The children are separated from the families. We have no information about her. But she’s blonde and blue-eyed. Maybe…?”
Magda swallowed and gazed at the revolver’s handle facing her. “These camps, these trains that take the people out of the ghetto and send them eastward, how do the Nazis choose who must go?”
Davide shook his head. “They don’t. There’s a Jewish council of elders in charge of the lists. Like we said, so far the more prominent figures have been left alone. They’re a kind of currency.”
Renata rose. “The Taubers need to be indispensable. And they will need currency when the time comes.”
Aleš scoffed and raised his hands. “If you know what we can do—”
“I do,” Magda said.
Aleš’s eyebrows shot up.
Magda held his gaze. “Medicine.”
“What?” Renata stepped between them.
But Aleš knew what Magda meant—she could see it in his expression, that slow recognition.
“If these men could get out,” Magda said, “then someone can get in, right?”
“Do you two mind telling me what’s going on here?” Renata said.
“Where are they?” Magda asked Aleš. “In St. Stephen’s?”
“Who?” Renata asked. “The escapees?”
“Not who,” Magda said. “What.”
Aleš’s face fell. “I only took what I thought might be of real value, what the Taubers might need to start a new life.”
“So the medicine is still beneath the floorboards?”
Renata groaned. “What are you two going on about?”
Magda turned to her. “Villa Liška. Aleš knows where the medicine is. He could go get them for Dr. Tauber. You said parcels are allowed now.”
“No.” Aleš picked up the revolver and strode over to her, the gun in his palm. “We’re all at risk, Magda. You put yourself in this position when you decided to exact some sort of vengeance—”
“It wasn’t an act of vengeance.”
“Enough!” Aleš offered her the gun again.
She took it gingerly, feeling its weight in her hand.
His gaze softened. “Magda, you’ve proven that you’re not happy hiding out forever. You know you can do this. We’ll wait until it’s safe enough for you, but it’s time. Join us.”
Renata stepped behind Magda and grasped her upper arms, squeezing. It was meant to reassure her. “It will be your first mission, and we’ll make sure there’s as little risk as possible. We’re your family.”
Magda’s heart raced.
Behind her, Aleš said, “When it’s time, be ready to go.”
11
November 1942
Koenig had left for a trip to Berlin, his wife with him. Villa Liška was in Jana’s hands. It was time for Magda to return.
Renata smuggled her out of the safe house and into the trunk of a car. Sometime after, they abandoned the vehicle on a road in the middle of the woods and covered it with branches and brush. Renata handed Magda a rucksack, and they hiked on foot out of the woods and across stubbled fields. Mountains were pressed up against the night sky like paper cutouts. Once, patrol vehicles drove along the fields, the rotating searchlights just missing them as it scathed the grounds.
An owl screeched on the hill above them as they picked their way up the path by moonlight. All Magda knew was that they were on a mountain, but she could not tell where. Renata veered off into the forest, and Magda followed, trying to make as little noise as possible. It was always like that: the moment Magda wanted to be quiet, she felt like a giant wading through a glass display. Renata, meanwhile, had the stealth of a native Amazonian.
A shadow materialized before them, and Magda clapped a hand over her mouth.
“Password,” a man’s voice demanded.
“The mouse is in the talons,” Renata whispered. “How are you, Jakob?”
“Fucking cold.”
The man stepped forward, blew into his hands, and rubbed them. Magda could barely make out his features, but the voice was gruff, and she pictured a beard—someone older, at any rate.
Renata clapped the partisan on the back. “Got long yet?”
“Half hour.”
“Good. I’ll see you inside. Cup of tea will be waiting for you.”
“If you mean your kind of cup of tea, it can’t go fast enough.”
Renata chuckled and turned to Magda. “Come on. We’re up here.”
Up here? Somewhere else in the woods a branch cracked. Renata pushed Magda forward into a steep muddy ravine. She saw nothing but more woods as she slipped on wet rocks and debris. Her feet were wet again. Magda cursed beneath her breath.
“Now you sound like a partisan.” Renata chuckled. She pushed past Magda and scrambled over the edge to her left. Then she counted her steps up to twelve. They reached a patch of thick underbrush. Renata bent on her knees and moved most of it out of the way before lifting something upward from the ground. A trap door.
“What?” Renata cocked her head in the dark. “This is why it’s called the Underground, no?” She lowered herself down the pitch-black hole.
“Ladder’s right here,” Renata called up.
Magda wiggled her foot until it landed on something solid. When she stepped off the last rung, she finally saw light at the end of a narrow tunnel. Renata moved toward it, and Magda hurried after
her. They reached a well-lit subterranean bunker.
Four men looked up. Aleš was in front of a typewriter. He nodded at Magda brusquely and continued hammering away at the keys. Davide, wearing headphones on his head, tapped code away at a radio transmitter. The other two men acknowledged Magda with suspicious looks.
“Hey, this is nice.” Renata moved to their side of the table. She picked up what looked like a flare gun. She waved it in Magda’s direction. “This is the Godmother.”
Magda turned around and looked behind her.
Renata laughed. “You’re the Godmother, you silly goose. That’s what we call you down here.”
They did? Why hadn’t anyone told her she had a nom de guerre?
Aleš yanked the paper out of the typewriter and handed it to Renata, who read it.
Wide eyed, Renata lifted the paper in the air. “What’s this?”
Davide pulled off his headphones and grinned. “Stalingrad is surrounded. The Soviets have trapped the Germans in about fifty square miles. Artillery, tanks, trucks, equipment included.”
Renata whooped and Aleš laughed. The others chuckled. Except Magda.
Renata danced over to her. “The Soviets are pushing back! This might be it!”
Magda smiled uncertainly. “Are we winning?”
Aleš hugged Magda briefly to him. “If we means anyone but the Germans, then yes, for now. It’s always only for now.” He looked at her and brushed something off her shoulder. “How are you doing? Glad you made it safely.”
She tried to smile bravely.
He turned to the other two men. The one with high arched brows and a long nose wore a turtleneck sweater. His hair was dark brown and messy, and his eyes were light and quick. The other one had a shorn head, like Aleš, but was not bald. He wore a priest’s cassock and a red bandana around his neck. He had freckles across the bridge of his nose and ears that stuck out. Both looked dead serious.
“This is Karol Procházka,” Aleš said to the first. “And his friend Yanko.”
Magda nodded at the two men who had escaped the train.
Karol raised his eyebrows, and his mouth turned up a little. He had the kind of mouth where the ends were always turned up, always prepared to smile.
“It’s time for us to go do the watch,” Yanko said suddenly. “Come on.”
Magda stepped aside to let them through, but Karol stopped before her. “So you’re the one who stole Hitler’s bicycle,” he said.
Magda’s eyes widened. “What do you mean? I didn’t—”
Yanko smacked Karol’s arm and ducked into the tunnel.
Karol grinned widely. “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you later.” And he disappeared into the tunnel after his friend.
Renata was at a small cooker, steam coming out of a tin pot. She poured the hot water over tea leaves and unscrewed a bottle of Becherovka. Jakob’s tea, Magda guessed.
“What did he mean about Hitler’s bicycle?” Magda asked her.
Renata snorted. “Nothing. It’s stupid. We told them about the day you dumped the Hitler youth’s bicycle into the river. Next day, Yanko says, looking really perplexed, ‘But what was Hitler doing in that little town?’ He’d missed the fact that we’d said youth’s bicycle. Well, Karol wouldn’t let it go. He kept making Yanko imagine Hitler riding around in a pair of lederhosen, visiting his protectorate on a bicycling tour. It went on for days, Karol making up an entire agenda for the Führer’s tourist spots of the day.”
Magda cupped a hand over her mouth. “That’s sort of funny.”
Renata raised her teacup to her lips. Then she tilted her head back and laughed aloud. “Imagine that! The Führer on a bicycling holiday! Pedaling across the Charles Bridge in tight little lederhosen!”
Her hair chopped off, the stolen and tailored Wehrmacht uniform cinched around her waist, there was only one more thing to do. Karol Procházka was wrapping the bandage around Magda’s head. Aleš was in his commanding officer stance, watching the progress of disguising Magda into an injured soldier on leave.
“You’re to only get the medicine,” Aleš said. “Do nothing else, you hear?”
“What’s going to happen when I come back with the medicine?”
Aleš dropped his head. “The only thing we can do is try and get it to them as a food parcel. That’s all. Renata is working on the details of that.”
Magda nodded.
Karol stepped back and examined her face. Yanko and he had made it look as if her head wound was on the right side of her face. No suspicion that something had happened on the left cheek. Karol held up a compact mirror, and Magda examined herself.
The crooked nose, the scar along her eye were still there. Wasn’t that enough to give her away? She looked up.
“It’s good,” Karol said. “It’s enough to get you through the gate. The Koenigs are not there. This will go off without a hitch. Just keep yourself together.”
Magda peered in the mirror again. She looked like the least put-together person on the planet. She willed her legs to get her up and stand straight. “I’m ready.”
Out through the tunnel, into the woods. She was still surprised they were not more than a half a mile from the villa. She had not recognized the terrain. How good of a partisan could she be if she could not even recognize that Renata had led her to the same place where Magda had spent almost three years?
The road from the village to Villa Liška brought her to a point where she could see the tower and the outskirts of Litoměřice. The river was to her right, and even from here she could see that the bridge to Theresienstadt was fortified and well guarded. She was soon on the main road, which would lead her to the front gates of the villa. Over the ridge and there it was: the familiar limestone facade, the towers, the pool covered for the season. There were no vehicles in the front drive, and the fountain was dry. She lifted the latch of the gate and went inside the compound. Smoke rose from the kitchen chimney.
And then a child’s giggle and feet crunching on the gravel on the far side of the house.
Magda froze.
“You get over here,” a woman’s voice called in German.
Magda turned to the gate. It was too late to flee—she was too far inside.
A toddler, a wide smile on his face, came around the corner and stopped at the sight of Magda. His smile disappeared, and his face turned into a mask of fear.
“I told you to—”
Jana appeared. She snatched the boy into her arms and glared at Magda.
“It’s me,” Magda said. “It’s me, Jana. Your son. From the front. I was…I was injured.”
Jana and the boy both stared at her. The boy began kicking his feet. He had dark-blond hair, had Koenig’s dark eyes. A shoe flew off as he struggled to get down.
Jana lowered him to the ground and took his hand, approaching Magda with slow steps. “I don’t have a—” She gasped.
“It’s me,” Magda stressed again. “How are you?”
Jana assessed Magda from head to toe. She put her hands on her hips and clicked her tongue. “Well, I! That’s almost good.”
The boy whimpered.
Magda dropped down to his level. “Hello there. What’s your name?”
The boy pressed himself into Jana.
“They named him Robert,” Jana said.
Magda pointed to the front door. “May I come in?” Was it safe was what she was asking.
Jana led the way and let Magda in. The front foyer had not changed much. Magda peeked down the hall. The doors were all shut, but Jana bustled through the service door, and Magda hurried behind her, casting a glance at the photo of Koenig still on the foyer table. In the dining room, a new portrait of Hitler hung on the wall.
Jana sat the boy at the kitchen table, handed him a piece of sliced apple, then whirled on Magda. “I was wondering what happened to you.”
“Why is he here?” Magda pointed to the child. “I thought they were all gone.”
“They are. Frau Koenig and the Obe
rsturmbannführer are in Berlin, but…” Jana looked heartbroken as she gazed at the child. “Robert is practically my child, Magda.”
“Is there anyone else here?”
“I’m the only one.”
“Good. Come with me.”
Magda left the kitchen and took the stairs two at a time. The door that led to what was once Eliška’s bedroom stood open. Magda walked over and leaned in the doorway.
There was a crib opposite to where Eliška’s bed had once stood, and the room had been painted a soft duck-egg blue. There were toy airplanes and tanks on the floor, and on the dresser, a photo of Robert alone in the expanse of the rose garden. There was a wooden train set and a push toy with a little dog on four wheels. It almost looked like a normal boy’s bedroom.
Jana came beside her, Robert in her arms again. Magda rubbed a finger along his cheek. He jerked back, burrowing into Jana’s neck.
“He’s a good boy.” Jana’s voice was shaky.
Magda dropped her hand. “I’m not here because of him.”
“You’re not?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
Magda peered at Jana. She looked older, and she looked terrified. “I need to get to Aleš’s old room.”
Without further explanation, Magda took the stairs to the top floor and strode to the last door. She pushed it open. The bed was neatly made, but the room was empty. She dropped to the floor and began plying the floorboards up. When Jana walked into the room, Madga looked up.
“Are you going to help me?”
Walter stopped before Magda, still sprawled on the last steps. She sobbed and pleaded with him again to not take Eliška. He removed the cap from his head and squatted down next to her.
“Magda, Magda. Magdalena.” He shook his head. “What might have happened if you had been just a little—just slightly—kinder to me? I ask myself that. I wonder whether I might have wanted to be a better man.”
The Wehrmacht soldiers lifted Eliška from Aleš’s arms, then took him into a rough hold and shoved him through into the dining room. Two other men moved toward her, but Walter held up his hand.
The Road to Liberation: Trials and Triumphs of WWII Page 42
