Jim then spoke earnestly to Hans, “You must allow me to bring Anna to the Musical Academy in Hamburg, and with her amazing ability she will be most welcome there. It has a long and enviable tradition in classical music and I have no doubt that someday she will be a member of the National Orchestra”. Hans knew that the Hamburger Konservatorium was the oldest school of music in Northern Germany. Jim went on to say, “I would like to have the privilege of starting her career”. “Thank you, Major Herrin”, Hans replied graciously. “But it will take money to send her to the Academy and many years of support which I cannot provide”. "Everything possible will now be done for Anna. I will see about enrolling her”. Jim insisted.
As they were leaving, Jim casually enquired from Anna where she had learned to play so beautifully and who had taught her. He complimented her on the maturity of her interpretation and the balanced timing of her playing. “My Uncle Rheini taught me everything, he insisted on perfection. He had learned to play the violin at a very early age at the musical academy owned by his family. Music was really important to him and he was a highly sensitive and passionate man. He was so good to me, always encouraged me and never forgot to bring presents. I miss him very much’’. She replied. Jim looked at her affectionately and said, “Your Uncle Rheini must have been a wonderful person”.
TWENTY FOUR
PRAGUE: 1944
The train journey from Berlin to Prague was different from the last train trip Maria had made with Anna to Paris over two years previously. This time there were no special arrangements made for the sister of the deceased SS General. Nobody recognised the tall lady and adolescent girl among the moving self-absorbed throngs of displaced Europeans at bahnhof Berlin. The triumphalist atmosphere of the previous years was now replaced by a pervading anxiety and a palpable aura of self-preservation. They had struggled to find seats in an over-crowded carriage among suitcases and disgruntled travellers. Travel permits still had to be produced and Maria apprehensively appraised the officials scrutinising their papers. Alert to all impending dangers, she wondered if whatever malevolent force following her was on the train, and whether she would reach Prague without incident. She felt a sense of relief when the train eventually moved. It would travel along the river Elbe, through Dresden and beside the 14th Century Strekov Castle and finally cross the river Vlatava before arriving in Prague. Aerial bombing was a constant concern and several times the train stopped in tunnels fearing attack. Everyone seemed to be moving about the carriages, there was a general air of tension and unease. Maria’s nerves were fraught with anxiety. All strangers looked threatening and suspicious, they appeared furtive and shabbily dressed. Even those in uniform had lost their lustre and seemed resigned and exhausted. Where would an attack take place, she pondered, it was physically and mentally draining to be continually ‘braced’ for a life threatening event not knowing where or when or how it might occur.
As the train entered Prague station with its magnificent high semi domed roof, signs in German proclaimed the state as being Bohemia and Moravia, replacing Czechoslovakia. Mother and daughter alighted from the train to be greeted by a uniformed SS man who officially directed them to follow him to a waiting car. He was courteous but asked them to hurry and not delay as he explained that there was a lot of hostile activity in the city and resistance to the Germans was now more brazen. This time, unlike their previous trip in Paris, there were no swastika symbols or other signs on the car to denote it being SS.
As they drove through the city, evidence of a Third Reich in decline was everywhere. The Slovak Resistance which had been brutally put down one month previously had fought valiantly; they were fiercely anti fascist and nationalistic. Empty shops and desolate buildings were a prominent feature of a grey landscape. Bicycles were everywhere and trams with overcrowded loads swayed erratically under the burden.
When the open-top SS staff car carrying Maria and Anna swept through the impressive entrance gates of the large estate of Jungfern-Breshan, outside the village of Panenske, Brezany, they were both tired and relieved to see the imposing portals of the entrance hall that late September evening. Lina Heydrich lived in the lower castle designed in the empire style.
The anxiety that gripped Maria was unshakeable but she tried not to transfer the terror to Anna who was confused by the sudden flight. They carried very few personal possessions, just a satchel each containing some clothing and food, also some photographs of happier times. All other belongings had to be abandoned, as Maria knew they would not be returning.
They entered the high ceilinged long baronial type entrance hall and observed two female uniformed servants hurriedly making their exit down a rear service stairway. Maria had her arm protectively around Anna and she suddenly felt the accompanying SS guards stiffen as the widow of Heydrich, Lina, entered the hallway. She greeted them imperiously. “You are welcome here and will enjoy safe sanctuary from your ordeals”. She clapped her hands and instantly the two female servants reappeared and she ordered them to prepare a meal for the honoured guests. Lina was tall and looked youthful for thirty-six years of age. Her fair Nordic looks held a cool aloofness that transmitted a demanding subservience which she sought from the servants. She was dressed in hunting gear of the Bavarian country style, complete with whip and her haughty stature was complimented by the surroundings of the magnificent villa. When she ushered her two exhausted visitors into the elegant drawing room, they both thought they were dreaming. The room was elaborately decorated with expensive furnishings and had tall windows overlooking the vast parkland which was bathed in faint moonlight. It was indeed a fairyland, a mystical mirage aons away from a Germany mired in devastation. When Lina spoke again, it was reassuring, “I know that you must think this is all very far from the war and the bombings of our beloved Fatherland, but I have faith in the Führer and the providence that guides him. Our Reich has suffered many military reverses, but in the end I hope that we will salvage some advantages from the hardships we have endured. It is now a favourable time for a peace settlement with the Allies. After you rest tonight, we can talk tomorrow about the threat you have received.”
Her three children then came into the room. Heider was tall and his boyish blond good looks promised Aryan compliance. The two daughters, Silke and Marte being very young, were playful and Anna found them both a delightful distraction. Maria put her arms around Lina to thank her for her support and expressed her sorrow at the loss of her ten-year-old son Klaus the year before in a traffic accident just outside the gates of the villa. It had been an unfortunate occurrence as the driver of the delivery truck was blameless.
The meal was substantial, comprising chicken, vegetables, bread and fruit. Lina told them everything had been produced on the estate. Maria gratefully accepted the cognac offered by one of the servant girls who appeared to be extraordinarily nervous in the presence of Lina. Upstairs, they were shown two separate comfortable bedrooms at the side of the mansion both of which offered unrestricted views across what looked like orchards, towards undulating hills in the distance. The dark blue water of a swimming pool shimmered in the moonlight. As she took in this scene of breathtaking beauty and was about to close over the heavy velvet curtains she noticed a glimpse of a light shining in a long narrow building in the distance. It was partially hidden by some shrubbery but she could still make out the movement of what looked like uniformed figures. Troubled by what she saw, she closed the curtains and wondered what estate work they could be doing at this late hour. It would only become obvious later when she would understand that these were SS guards overseeing Jews forced into slave labour to satisfy the grandiose plans of the mistress of the estate, Lina Heydrich. Also, at that time, she was unaware that one of the SS guards was monitoring their every move and had already reported their arrival to his superior officer, SS Hauptsturmführer Alois Brunner, in Berlin.
TWENTY FIVE
PARIS: 1945
Eight months had passed since the liberation of Paris. The city was slowly r
e-emerging from its four-year occupation. The initial euphoria that accompanied the liberation in August the previous year had evaporated. British and American troops had been greeted with gifts of long-stored cognac and cigarettes; flowers had been strewn along their paths and images of gaily dressed girls cheering them on were flashed worldwide across newsreel.
While normal life was slowly resuming in Paris, Madelaine’s life was anything but normal. Sitting alone on this grey April morning in the room where they held resistance meetings, she considered her next move in her continuing search for Alois Brunner. Having resigned her position in Chase Bank, she rejoiced in the knowledge that their activities were now under close scrutiny by the liberating forces, and she had heard that Carlos Niedermann had left Paris, probably to Switzerland. Her contacts in the SS had kept her informed that Brunner was in Berlin, and she knew that throughout the chaos in that city he would be seeking out Maria and Anna to execute Heydrich’s plan and access the plundered money in the bank. In September, she had got the message through to warn them of their impending danger, and she had heard from her SS sources that they had fled to the safety of Lina Heydrich’s estate in Prague. She also rightly assumed that Brunner would also know their whereabouts, but she felt that it would be impossible for him to track them there as they would be tightly protected by a loyal SS guard unit faithful to the memory of their chief, Heydrich.
Madelaine had been appointed a senior official in the office of the Director of Repatriation. She was responsible for allocating part of the state budget to returning prisoners of war. Each prisoner was entitled to at least one thousand francs and more, depending upon rank, but this was a pittance when trying to purchase essential goods on the thriving black market.
She was also constantly being sought out by Resistance colleagues who had ushered her into the position of conduit between the newly formed civil authorities and the returnees from various concentration camps. This was a harrowing role as the increasing train loads of released skeletal humanity arrived at the main Paris rail stations, Gare du Nord and Gare de L’Est, searching for old homes and relatives not seen for over four years. She watched as she relayed whatever news she had, and often saw homecoming joy turn to despair when hopeful anticipation of a mother, father or siblings’ good fortune was shattered by the factual response, “The Germans took them”.
Since the previous October, the Allied forces offensive into Germany had been relentless. The march forward was occupying the big German cities like Aachen and Cologne, and with this advance came the liberation of the camps like Buchenwald, Dachau and Bergen Belsen. In the east, the advancing Soviet armies had liberated Auschwitz, Majdanek and Sachenhausen and the initial trickle of humanity into Paris soon became a constant river. The weariness of dejection and despair tinged with the relief of surviving was evident as they emerged into their new dawn of mooted expectation. Resentment soon set in and a further problem was the questions being asked as to the whereabouts of some of the ruthless French police. These were a painful reminder of collaboration with the Germans who had sent many of the returnees from Drancy to unimaginable conditions in the east. Hitler’s order to destroy the city of Paris was not fulfilled ; nevertheless, the retreating Germans had left escalating chaos. Many skirmishes and street fights had scarred the once proud city before it shed the mantle of occupation. Because of Madelaine’s efficiency and stature within the civil authority, she was also called upon to assist in the resumption of hospital facilities, restoring normal public transport services and a host of other municipal functions.
She looked around the silent room, and she allowed herself a rare moment of reflective indulgence to recall the noisy resistance meetings that had taken place in the room and the sense of outrage that prevailed. Her present busy schedule with its constant demands had nearly overwhelmed her, but Brunner was still an obsessive quest. She felt she owed it to the Darius family and their legacy not to let the plan succeed. She had seen at first hand the results of German genocidal policies and her inner steely determination vowed not to permit Brunner to benefit. As she absently looked across at the window with its view to the outside passageway where a lookout had always kept guard during the meetings, she wondered where Brunner was now. Her informants in the SS who still thought that she had German sympathies had told her that he was always travelling accompanying ‘transports’ to the east. She knew that Maria and Anna were still at the Heydrich mansion in Prague and felt that for the present time it was a secure sanctuary. But if Brunner was travelling, then it was only a matter of time before he caught up with them.
Madelaine’s last communication with her SS informant had joked that Brunner would probably eventually flee with the help of Bishop Alois Hudal in The Vatican. Who was this Bishop Hudal, she wondered. She was born a Catholic and had practised in her early years in her birthplace of Lyon and later at university in Munich. She still had faith, but events were challenging her beliefs. When she joined the Resistance she was outraged by the statement in November 1942 from the Paris office of the Catholic Cardinal, Emmanuel Suhard, the church’s Assembly of Cardinals and Archbishops liaison with the Germans, who said that “Collaboration is the only reasonable course for France and for the Church”. De Gaulle endorsed her feelings by refusing to meet this Cardinal upon his return to Paris and also forbade him to attend a celebration mass in Notre-Dame Cathedral.
Madelaine knew that the Catholic Church was no innocent bystander or ignorant observer of the crimes of the Hitler regime. The silence of the Catholic Church and its failure to publicly oppose the murderous regime of the Third Reich which was well known to its hierarchy, would, in her opinion, forever stain its credibility. Even from the very beginning of the war the international press had reported on the crimes and purges of the Third Reich. The Vatican did not excommunicate one SS member before, during or after the war despite a catalogue of horrific crimes committed and verified and despite the SS organisation being branded criminal by the Allies. This was a crime of inaction and confirmed the view that Christian attitudes towards Jews fuelled European anti-Semitism. Opposing the ideology of Marxism gave The Vatican and National Socialism a common goal, but this position does not absolve culpability from the animus and enmity they failed to display against fascism. Traditionally, the Catholic Church viewed the Jews as polluting the values of Christianity, holding them responsible for crucifying the Saviour. This view was not diluted over the years.
Madelaine knew that there was practically no documentation condemning the activities of the Nazi Regime from the Catholic press and, in truth, it came as no surprise to her that the name of a Catholic bishop would be mentioned as a possible rescuer of a notorious exponent of the Third Reich’s most obscene debasing of humanity. She decided to make contact with this Bishop Hudal, posing as a German sympathiser and supporter, and if her informant was right, then the trail would lead her directly to Brunner and his whereabouts.
TWENTY SIX
LYON: 1945
Napoleon had declared that “Jews are the carrion birds of humanity… they must be treated with political justice, not with civil justice”. He had imposed restrictions on their commercial activities and on money lending.
In the spring of 1945 in Lyon, the recriminations of the ambiguous relationship that existed between the French public and the anti-Semitics that had filtered down from those Napoleonic years were beginning to surface. Common objectives were to be found in the many anti-Communist organisations and these also embraced a rejection of Jewish culture and activities. The collaborationist Vichy regime governed from central France had been instrumental in deporting Jews to Drancy. Public scrutiny of officials was now common place and an athmosphere of blame culture resulted in numerous judicial charges and trials.
In his three years of living a subterranean life in central Lyon, Emil had developed into a nineteen-year-old youth with an acute awareness of danger and an appreciation of the exchange and interaction between individuals far beyond his years. He had r
arely left home without the accompaniment of his adopted father Rafik and even then he was careful to disguise his Jewish features as best he could. He used to make sure his collar was high and always wore a low slung peaked cap which was fashionable at the time and did not attract attention. His basic knowledge of Arabic was of great assistance and this is the language he spoke when outside in a café or at a market stall. Always alert to a lingering look from a stranger or the misinterpretation of a nod or other gesture, it was an existence of constant vigilance and anxiety.
This May morning was different as he walked along the Rue Juiverie with the sun glistening on the Rhone to his left, he felt no longer a need to disguise. He had a jaunt in his step that he had previously been unaware of and a new purpose in his life loomed. He was on his way to register with the Music Academy of Lyon, having been accepted two months previously and recording his religion proudly as Jewish. He felt that the nightmare of a subterfuge existence was finally over. Even though the Vichy regime had been disbanded nine months earlier, its legacy was still pervading lifestyles and there was a hesitation on the part of the populace to disclose their true feelings and most of them wanted to put this dark chapter in their history behind them. It was a joyous feeling of release from an overwhelming oppression that seemed to last a lifetime, but was only four years. He slowed his walk as he passed the elegant buildings as if seeing the beautiful downtown area of Lyon for the first time. It was as if both he and the city were emerging this shining May morning in unison to an acclimation of nature demonstrated by a cloudless blue sky and a light welcoming wind. Even passing people seemed friendly; he no longer sought the sinister sneer or the questioning gesture. Fear had fled and been replaced with optimism and a desire for revenge and retribution. It seemed only months ago since Charles de Gaulle's return to France when he had abolished the Vichy regime and, in his words, ‘restored self-respect'. He declared all legislation enacted in France since June 1940 to be null and void. A new world order in France was promised.
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