by Julie Thomas
‘A gunshot will give away our position,’ Levi said quietly. The wolf shifted its gaze from Peter to Levi as he stepped forward and took two small strides towards it.
‘Don’t be a fool, Wolfie,’ Peter said, ‘they carry rabies and their teeth are like razors.’
Levi pulled his knife from his hip pocket. ‘Canius lupis,’ he said, ‘if my memory serves me correctly. Come on, boy, have a go.’
He took another step forward, hands out, palms facing the wolf, the knife nestled between thumb and forefinger. The animal swung back on its haunches, growling, a deep guttural noise that rose in volume as the wolf launched forward. Levi had his arms in the air before the wolf got to him, and the knife glinted in the moonlight reflecting off the snow. The slice was clean, across the throat, and then as the animal fell he plunged the knife into its heart. Death was instantaneous.
‘Someone else can carry it,’ he said, wiping the knife on the snow.
Peter slapped him on the back. ‘I don’t know whether to call you insane or insanely brave,’ he said.
Many of the partisans teased Levi for the next few days, saying his name, Wolfie, was justified by his slaying of the grey wolf. He was embarrassed by the attention and withdrew whenever possible. One evening when he was reading in the cave he heard a commotion outside. It was twilight and nearly time to eat. Peter came looking for him.
‘We have visitors. They want to see you,’ he said.
‘Why?’ Levi asked.
Peter shrugged. ‘How should I know, but I think they’re speaking English.’
Levi put his book down and followed his leader outside. Four of the partisans were pointing their rifles at two British officers in uniform. One officer held a photo in his hand. He looked at it and handed it to his companion.
‘It’s him,’ he said in English.
Levi walked towards them. His instinct was telling him he needed to get rid of these men as soon as possible for the safety of the camp, not to mention the safety of the officers themselves.
‘What can I do for you?’ he asked in English.
They both saluted him. He tentatively returned the salute.
‘Sir, we know who you are. British Intelligence sent us some photos of men and women they’re looking for. They haven’t heard from you for a long time. Our orders are to take you with us back behind the front line and escort you to Florence.’
Levi frowned. ‘Why?’ he asked.
‘They want you to take a steamer back to London and to be debriefed. If, after that, you want to return to partisan activity, they will parachute you in. But the war is coming to an end, possibly only another six months.’
‘And if I refuse to come?’ Levi asked.
‘They are orders sir, you would be best to obey them.’
Levi turned to Peter. ‘They want to take me to Florence and ship me back to London,’ he said in Italian.
‘How did they find us?’ Peter asked.
Levi turned back to the soldiers. ‘How did you find the camp?’ he asked in English.
‘We’ve been airdropping supplies to these partisans for months. Reconnaissance followed the trail to the mountains, and we did the rest on the ground,’ the officer said.
Levi shrugged and looked at Peter. ‘Airdrops, reconnaissance and they seemed to have scrambled around in the mountains until they found us,’ he said in Italian.
‘It’s not a hardship, sir. We’re offering you a hot bath, good food and a ticket home,’ the officer said.
Levi smiled. ‘Well, I’m certainly prepared to go as far as Florence and sleep in a real bed.’
Both men looked intensively relieved.
Levi extended his hand to Peter. ‘I’m going to go with them,’ he said in Italian, ‘at least as far as Florence. I’ll find out what they plan for the spring and summer. If I can, I’ll come back.’
Out of the corner of his eye, Levi saw movement. Before he could brace himself for the impact Roza threw herself at him. He caught her.
‘You can’t leave!’ she cried out in German.
He held her at arm’s length. ‘I’ll come back,’ he promised.
She shook her head and tried to fling her fists against his chest.
‘No, you won’t. You say that now, but once you get to Florence you’ll forget all about us.’
He let go of one of her arms and ran a hand over her hair.
‘What makes you think I’ll forget you, Meine Geliebten?’
She looked up at him, desperation on her face. One eye was blackened and nearly closed and she had a red mark on her cheek where she’d been slapped hard.
‘Please, Wolfie, just come into the cave and talk to me. It won’t take long,’ she pleaded.
‘Of course.’
He followed her into the sleeping cave. Two men were resting there and she shooed them out.
‘What is it, Roza?’ he asked.
She balled her hands into fists and pressed them to her eyes. ‘They . . . they hurt me.’
Her voice was small and full of pain.
‘Who hurt you?’
‘Those German soldiers.’
He gathered her into his arms. She was shaking.
‘What did they do to you?’ he asked gently, stroking her hair.
‘I wasn’t going to say anything — Papa will be so angry and I’m afraid of what he’ll want to do. Most of them were killed anyway.’
She gave a huge sob and seemed to gulp air into her lungs. Then she looked at him. ‘But I thought, if I’m pregnant I’d ask you to marry me. So you can’t go away.’
He wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumb. ‘Did they rape you?’ he asked gently.
Her head dropped down and she nodded. Her body was wracked by a low moaning sound, grief and pain and fear. He held her until she was spent, then he lifted her away from him.
‘Sweet Roza. I’m not the marrying kind. But Mikel, he thinks the world of you and if you —’
‘I don’t love Mikel, I love you!’ She was half-pleading and half-angry at him for even suggesting it.
‘I have to go. I have no choice. For the safety of everyone I have to go with them. But if you do find yourself pregnant, you make sure I hear about it. Tell your mama, Roza, she will take care of you.’
She pulled away and stood up. ‘Well go then, see if I care,’ she said not looking at him. He hesitated.
‘Please, Wolfie, just go!’
He stood up and walked out of the cave. She stood with her back to him, her arms wrapped around her slight body.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Florence
March 1945
The only bridge the retreating Germans had left standing over the Arno River was the Ponte Vecchio. The historic centre of Florence had been badly hit, but stonemasons had removed the remaining blocks and numbered them so that buildings could be reconstructed in the years ahead. As they passed the Uffizi gallery, Levi could see parts of it open to the sky, parts covered by a makeshift roof and corridors stripped of art works.
The officers took Levi straight to the Eighth Army offices. He sat in an empty room and sipped a cup of tea while he waited for his superiors to interrogate him. His mind wandered back over the past six years, the flight from home, the relative safety of England, the peril of life in Berlin, Erik, the partisans, Assisi and the heroics of the Italian clerics, and now this. What would be next? he wondered. Where were his family? Were any of them still alive?
‘Mr Horowitz.’ The door had opened and shut so quietly that it hadn’t disturbed his reverie. The officer held out his hand and Levi shook it. He was about Levi’s age, shorter, balding, with lines of exhaustion at the corners of his blue eyes. It felt strangely comforting to be addressed by his real name.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘We’ve been looking for you for quite a while. My name is Major Harrison. Please take a seat.’
Harrison sat behind the desk, while Levi sat opposite him.
‘I know. I wanted to tell you w
here I was, but it was simply too dangerous. I went on holiday to see the parents of a friend of mine and left from Munich for Italy.’
‘Why Italy?’ Harrison asked.
Levi hesitated. ‘It was a chance to fight. Berlin was becoming more treacherous as the madness of impending defeat seemed to be descending, I wanted to help the partisans.’
Harrison nodded. ‘No one can accuse you of shirking your duty. The government thinks it’s time you went back to England. Had a breather for a few months and then made some decisions.’
‘About what?’ Levi asked.
‘We have a unit in the Eighth Army called the Jewish Brigade, made up of men such as yourself. There will be a fight for liberation in British Palestine soon. Once the war is over there will be hundreds of thousands of people who will need help to find their way home, or to a new home, all over Europe. There will be Nazis who may escape legal justice, and Jewish groups who want to make sure they don’t escape moral justice. Whatever you choose, your skills will be much in demand. You will be able to make better decisions about what to do next from London. And you deserve a rest.’
Levi didn’t answer for a long moment. ‘Major Harrison, what can you tell me about the campaign in Northern Italy?’ he asked.
‘The rain and mud are slowing us down. The mountain ranges sit horizontally across the country with a river between each range. The Germans appear to have heavy artillery guarding the ridges, with panzers and pillar-box artillery behind it. We bombard the first defence, then swim the swollen rivers under cover of night, split into two flanks and circle around to take out the tanks and pillar-boxes. Then we finish them off with grenades and flame-throwers. It is slow, difficult fighting, but we are making progress. In the summer we will break through and join up with the partisans.’
Levi nodded. ‘Can I take some time to consider my options?’ he asked.
‘Of course. There’s a train for Rome on Monday, and from there you’d go to Bari and by truck down to Taranto. The steamer leaves from there for Southampton.’
Levi was in no doubt that the suggestion that he had a choice was an illusion. If he told them he’d rather return to the partisans, the gloves would come off and he would experience the resolve of the British Army. If he’d gone outside for a cigarette and melted into the populace of the city, with the intention of making his way north, he would be rounded up before he had the chance to leave Florence. He wondered how Roza was and if she felt abandoned. He hoped she’d taken his advice and told her mother what had happened while she was in the German transit camp. She was yet another victim he’d encountered and left behind as the war progressed. He wished he had the opportunity to tell Peter what Major Harrison had told him about the plans for the summer campaign in the north. Still, if it was time to follow orders, so be it.
London, December 1945
Levi shifted uncomfortably on the seat and gestured towards the officer off-screen.
‘Can I have another cigarette, please?’ he asked.
‘Of course, sir.’
The hand leaned in and gave him a cigarette and then proffered the lighter. Levi took a deep drag and closed his eyes.
‘Please continue when you feel ready, sir.’
He looked at the camera, scratched the back of his neck and frowned.
‘By the time I’d gone to Rome, seen Don Aldo, some of our families and the bishop, who was there to see the Pope, taken a train to across the country to Bari and then caught a truck to Taranto it was late April. The trucks were full of Italian women, war brides. They’d married their army and air force sweethearts in Florence, travelled with them to Bari and then said their goodbyes. For some it would be months before their new husbands were sent home. Any who found themselves in a truck with me, a man both able to speak Italian and to tell them what England was like, didn’t stop asking me questions all the way south.’
‘How long did it take you to get to England?’ the voice off-camera asked.
‘About five weeks. We sailed around the bottom of Sicily, along the coast of North Africa, through the Straits of Gibraltar and out into the Atlantic. At times the sea was very rough and everyone suffered with sickness; other times it was calm and sunny and we played deck tennis and spent hours in the sunshine reading books.’
‘Did you know that Germany had surrendered?’
He nodded. ‘Yes, the news came through in May. Hitler was dead and the war in Europe was over. Everyone celebrated. I took myself off to the quietest corner I could find and said some silent prayers for my parents, my siblings, Erik, Eva, Sandro and all the others who had died.’
‘Did you take Erik’s parents to see his grave?’
Levi hesitated, then nodded. ‘It wasn’t easy, but the chaos in Europe helped. I flew to Paris and then got an army transport, by Jeep, to Munich. They were surprised and delighted to see me. But their grief was intense and raw. Herr von Engel used his brother’s influence to get us permission to travel to northern Italy. It was late summer and still warm. With an army escort I took them up to the treeline and found the site beside the river. They stayed at the grave for some time. Herr von Engel said they would organise for him to be dug up and brought back to Munich for burial near them. I assume they have done that, or will when transportation is easier.’
‘That was a huge thing for you to do.’
‘It was a promise I made. You don’t break promises to the people you love.’
There was a moment’s silence.
‘What have you been doing since your return?’
‘I couldn’t be officially discharged from the army as I never enlisted, but they gave me a letter thanking me for my service and offering me the George Cross for my bravery.’
There was an awkward pause. Levi looked at the ground.
‘And, for the record, what was your response?’
‘I turned it down.’
‘Why?’
‘Because the British government is acting like a bully. Other refugees who have given just as much as I have are being repatriated to their country of birth, even though they had official refugee status. They are being made to go back to countries like Poland or Hungry, even though they have been liberated by the Soviets.’
As he said the word ‘liberated’ he made the sign of quotation marks with his fingers.
‘And others are being sent back to live among the ruins of Germany. I have a trade that is deemed essential to the restoration of the British economy, I’m a banker, so I am allowed to stay.’
‘So you have returned to your job at Mr Dickenson’s bank?’
Levi nodded. ‘I was considering selling one of my diamonds and funding my own travel to the British Mandate of Palestine. There is a lot of work to be done there to establish the Jewish state and they need the talents I have. But just recently I have received news that has changed my mind.’
‘Would you like to share that news with us?’
For the first time, Levi smiled directly at the camera. His eyes glistened for a moment with what looked like unshed tears, and then he blinked and they were gone.
‘I received an official letter from the Red Cross. My younger brother, Simon, is in a displaced persons camp in Germany. He was interred in Dachau. He must have been there at the same time as Erik. He has nowhere to go so they will send him to London to be with me. I need to be here when he arrives. I remember the state that Erik was in when he was smuggled out of that place, and Simon will have been there a lot longer than Erik was. He’ll have suffered, and I must take care of him.
‘When he is strong enough I am hopeful we will go to America to live with our Uncle Avrum. He is our father’s eldest brother and he immigrated to America in 1925. He works in banking too.’
‘You must be delighted to know that another of your family has survived.’
Levi said nothing, and then he shrugged. ‘So much death and so much loss. “Delighted” is not a word I would use. It doesn’t explain how it feels. It is too frivolous. “Lucky” is
a better word. So many families have been completely destroyed because of the beliefs and actions of men I saw and listened to and tried to understand. Monsters like the Führer and Himmler and Goebbels.
‘Families that lived and worked and owned property and contributed magnificently to the world for hundreds of years, and in one short period they have been totally obliterated. The fact that we don’t share their fate is more good fortune than something we deserve. That is all I have to report. The war of Levi Horowitz is consigned to history.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The National Archives
Kew, London
September 2017
‘At least you know he was pleased to find out you had survived. Look at his eyes, he’s more deeply moved than he wants us to know.’
It was Cindy who spoke first. Simon gave her a gentle smile.
‘He’s right when he says “lucky” was the correct word. I have always felt it was some kind of karma. Good people died, bad people lived and vice versa. Levi understood that,’ he said.
‘Do you remember your reunion?’ Daniel asked.
‘Oh, yes. I was in a displaced persons camp near Munich. Conditions were still harsh, there was little food and they had to impose restrictions on us because there were so many to house and feed.’
‘What was the camp like?’ David asked. ‘I’ve always wanted to know, but you’ve never talked about it.’
Simon sighed. ‘I remember we used to say we were liberated but not free. Most of the people were sick, malnourished and exhausted, some were dying. The hardest thing was to find the energy to do anything.
‘But we formed an orchestra and started a newspaper, and I spent hours with the children, teaching them basic Hebrew and telling them stories about the great prophets of our people. Most of them under seven had no memory or concept of what it meant to be Jewish.’
‘How did they find Feter Levi?’ Daniel asked.
‘We had to fill out registration cards, and the Red Cross started to collate the hundreds of thousands of people who had been forcibly moved and were still alive. On my card I listed my family, and they traced Levi in London.
