In the Claws of the Eagle

by Aubrey Flegg

  Every clang of the bell as the tram to Mödling swayed out of town had nice associations for Izaac. He hadn’t telegraphed or phoned; he wanted this to be a surprise. His pulse was racing. He rang the bell and braced himself for Gretchen’s father, as a man’s footsteps rang on the tiles in the hall. The door was opened by a far younger man; after the bright light outside all Izaac could see was an outline, fair hair perhaps. Taken aback, he stammered:

  ‘Is Herr Wachter at home?’ He felt the man look him up and down.

  ‘No. Would you like to speak to my mother?’

  ‘Thank you.’ The man turned and disappeared down the hall. This must be Klaus, Gretchen’s half brother!

  ‘Mother, there’s a man at the door. One of Fred’s Jewish friends.’ Frau Wachter appeared, drying her hands on her apron.

  ‘Why! That’s Izaac!’ She hurried forward and joined him on the doorstep. Izaac wondered why she didn’t ask him to come in; she was usually most welcoming. ‘Izaac, how are you? You’re looking for Frederick. I’m afraid he has taken Gretchen away for the week, they … ’ She pulled the door discreetly behind her. ‘My son Klaus is here, so they know I’ll be looked after.’ Izaac understood; Gretchen and Klaus were at daggers drawn, and she absented herself as much as possible whenever he came to stay. It was a huge disappointment. He realised that Frau Wachter didn’t really want to ask him in. It was a pity; he’d have been interested to talk to the dreadful Klaus.

  ‘Thank you so much, Frau Wachter. Please give Herr Wachter my regards; I will call again later.’ As he turned he looked at his watch. It would be an hour before the next Bim.

  Klaus stepped back as his mother closed the door.

  ‘Is that Izaac Abrahams, Gretchen’s violinist?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes. We’re all very fond of him.’ It was bravely said. Frau Wachter was frightened of Klaus, the son who had been virtually taken away from her at birth by her former husband and had ended up living in Hitler’s nest of loyal followers in Munich.

  ‘I’d like to meet him,’ said Klaus. ‘Come to think of it, Erich and I are planning a visit to Vienna. I’ll call in on Erich now and we can take the Bim in together. Perhaps I’ll introduce myself to Herr Abrahams.’

  ‘Remember, he’s been very good to Gretchen!’

  ‘Good to her perhaps, but not good for her, I think.’

  Oh dear, thought Frau Wachter.

  Erich was only too glad to interrupt his studies and join Klaus on a trip into town. They had to hurry to get the Bim and then Klaus seemed keen not to be seen by some other passenger in the front compartment. What was Klaus up to? He chatted away, but when they got off, Erich got the impression that they were following someone. There were times when you didn’t ask Klaus questions.

  Izaac walked home through the Volksgarten, as he did whenever he wanted to think. How would he propose? On one knee with clasped hands, or catch Gretchen during his snake dance and propose in its coils. He loved to make her laugh, the stars laughed when she laughed like that. He smiled to himself; he must think out something special for her. All at once he realised that there was someone in his path; he stepped to one side with a murmured apology. The figure moved too, blocking his way. Izaac looked up … a friend perhaps? No, a stranger: tall, fair, good-looking in an Aryan sort of way. But there was something familiar about him.

  ‘Pardon,’ Izaac said.

  ‘No, Mr Abrahams, no pardon, not for you!’

  ‘Excuse me, I don’t understand.’

  ‘You will!’

  ‘Have we met?’ asked Izaac warily.

  ‘Unfortunately, yes.’

  It was coming back to Izaac now: wood smoke, small boys, a tall mocking youth. ‘Yid … Yid …’ it was all coming back to him.

  ‘I think our dislike may be mutual,’ he said, and noticed a flash of anger cross the man’s face, but he had stood up to hostile audiences, he would stand up to this man.

  ‘From now, Herr Abrahams, from this minute, you are to break off all relations with my sister Gretchen. That is an order!’

  Izaac almost fell back in shock. This man, the man who had opened the door to him in Mödling, the murderous youth who had ambushed him and Louise up in the Wienerwald, were one and the same: Gretchen’s half-brother Klaus!

  Regaining some of his composure, Izaac asked what he now knew to be an unnecessary question, ‘Why?’

  ‘Because you are a Jew!’

  ‘That’s no answer, and anyway Gretchen can answer for herself.’

  ‘It is an answer! It is my answer!’ The man was pushing his face closer and closer to Izaac’s. ‘Because I care for the purity of my blood!’

  ‘Only half, if I remember rightly.’

  Klaus’s face drained white with anger. ‘I will not be talked to like that by a Jew. The very thought of your polluting paws on any girl of our pure race revolts and sickens me. You have corrupted her mind; you will not have her body. I would kill her before I let you near her, and I mean it! I don’t care about you; you are untermenschen – subhuman – as far as I am concerned. It is she who I will drag through the mire for betraying our race.’ With that, Klaus turned on his heel and srode off.

  For a moment, righteous indignation rose like gall in Izaac’s throat; he would follow that man and tear him apart with his hands, but in his mind he heard a mental click. It was the click that one domino makes when it falls against another. As a child he used to make long curving chains of them, and then when they were ready, give the first one a push: click … click … click. Down they would go until the last one fell. Ever since he had first met Gretchen he had been building this chain, domino after domino, while denying that anything could topple it. He had been an Austrian first, a Jew second. He had made himself part of the Austrian dream of music and civilisation. All it had taken to topple the domino chain was to reverse the names: a Jew first, an Austrian last. Klaus meant what he said; he would go for Gretchen, not him, and feel righteous in doing so. How could he propose to Gretchen now? How could he expose her to this? The last domino was down.

  ‘Who was that you were talking to?’ Erich asked when Klaus joined him at the circular fountain in the Volksgarten. He noticed that Klaus’s face had that unpleasant death’s head look that he remembered from their first meeting in the woods above his home.

  ‘Never mind, a family matter. Come, we are going for a little walk. I have something to show you. It’s time you had your eyes opened to what’s going on in this country.’

  They set off at a great pace towards the Hofburg palace, passing the statue of Archduke Karl on his prancing horse, and then plunged through the high arched passage into the inner city.

  ‘Where are we going?’ asked Erich.

  ‘It doesn’t really matter, Erich, they are everywhere.’

  ‘Who? The Jews?’

  ‘You’re learning! Come, let’s try a bank.’

  Inside the marble interior he lowered his voice. ‘Now, look at the tellers: Jews to a man, what did I tell you? Shh!’

  A young official came up to them. ‘Can I help you, gentlemen?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Klaus, ‘I was wondering if you have any vacancies?’

  ‘I can’t say, sir; if you will follow me, I will consult with my superior.’ He led them into an anteroom. ‘He won’t be a moment. To pass the time while you wait you might like to tot up the columns on this sheet; it won’t take you a minute.’

  ‘Bloody cheek,’ whispered Klaus. Erich dug him in the ribs; there was a second candidate sitting in the room. Klaus ran a pencil professionally down the columns, entering the answers with a flourish. Erich was impressed. At that moment a more senior manager, every inch the Jew to Erich’s eye, entered. With elaborate courtesy he collected the sheets of tots from the two candidates and examined them briefly. Then he turned to Klaus and explained that unfortunately they didn’t have a vacancy at present, perhaps some other time. Then he turned to the other candidate.

  ‘Herr Korngold, this way, if you please.’ />
  ‘What did I tell you? A Jew, jobs for the boys!’ hissed Klaus as they emerged. ‘No Aryans need apply.’ As they walked down the street, Klaus managed to find a Jew in every shop they looked into. ‘Now we will have a cup of coffee.’

  Erich held back; they were outside one of the most expensive cafés in Vienna. He hoped Klaus was going to pay. As they sat with their tiny mocha coffees they gazed at the well-heeled women at the surrounding tables.

  ‘They look like overfed Vienna to me.’

  ‘Yes, but, this is a Jewish café! Do you know why they are here?’ Erich shook his head. ‘This is where Freud, the Jewish psychoanalyst, comes. These women are his patients; he tells them that they are sexually repressed, and they love it. Don’t you see, even the doctors are at it; systematically corrupting our nationhood. These women should be at home, breeding, and feeding the nation, not listening to filth in a Jew’s surgery.’

  By the end of the day Erich was beginning to see nothing but Jews. Jews with ringlets, black hats and greasy-looking clothes standing on street corners, ‘whispering’ and ‘conspiring’, according to Klaus. They had heard a strange barbaric wailing from inside a synagogue, and Klaus suggested a human sacrifice. Erich suspected that this was nonsense but he was now enjoying feeding his prejudices; he envied Klaus’s air of superiority. What did little truths matter in the face of the great conspiracy? Just as Grandpa Veit had warned him, they were everywhere.

  Eventually Klaus took him, footsore and weary, to an unquestionably Aryan Bierkeller, and ordered schnitzel and beer for them both. They felt private in the clatter and clamour of the cellar. It was then that Klaus leaned forward.

  ‘Erich, my friend, you may not know it, but since your Adlerwand ascent you have become a bit of hero over the border in Germany. There is a call for men of steel and men with high ideals. What you said after your ascent has met with approval.’

  What had he said? Erich wondered, but he was a little drunk now.

  ‘I have a proposal to put to you.’ Klaus said, ‘have you considered joining the SS?’

  CHAPTER 17

  The Anschluss

  ‘Izaac…Izaac! Come quickly, the Chancellor is speaking.’ Lotte’s head appeared in the doorway and disappeared immediately. Izaac hastily laid his violin in its case and ran out to the kitchen where Lotte kept a watch on the world for them through her small wireless set. Louise didn’t follow him. The whole family would be leaning forward, straining to hear, through the hiss and crackle, what was happening to their country. She was as anxious to know as they, but she would leave it to Izaac to tell her about it later. She heard a general gasp: ‘Oh no!’ and then nothing until the radio was switched off. It seemed ages before Izaac reappeared, looking numb and shocked; he began to put his violin away.

  ‘Izaac, what’s the news … bad?’

  He took a resigned breath. ‘You remember we were going to vote–’

  ‘For a Free and Independent Austria?’ Louise said, glancing out of the window. ‘I’ve enjoyed the flags: Rot Weiss Rot – Red White Red – they look so brave.’

  Izaac snorted. ‘They can come down now. Our Chancellor’s resigned!’

  ‘No! Why?’

  ‘Because Hitler has moved his troops up to the border, and said to Chancellor Schuschnigg that if he doesn’t resign, and put Hitler’s own man in charge, he’ll invade Austria by force. That’s what was on the wireless just now – Schuschnigg announcing his resignation. He sounded close to tears, poor man. Now Hitler is free to walk in.’

  ‘Will that be bad … for you as Jews … for us?’ Louise asked. She had been a silent partner in many an anxious discussion as the family had watched the rise of Hitler and the progressive persecution of Jews in Germany. She knew it would be bad, but she didn’t know how serious it would be here in Austria.

  Izaac shrugged. ‘We are Austrians first, Jews second, I’m sure the people will stand by us.’ He didn’t sound convinced. Louise held up her hand. ‘Hush, Izaac … what’s that?’ There was shouting in the distance.

  Izaac went to the window and fumbled with the catch. A lorry was approaching from the distance. A huge swastika flag waved above it. It carried the most extraordinary motley of men, wearing literally any sort of uniform they could find. Some had helmets, some caps, other had old storm trooper jackets, even Hitler Youth uniforms. There were men in trousers, boys in shorts, but all of them were wearing swastika armbands, and nearly all of them brandished pistols or rifles of one kind or another. Now people were running out of the houses into the street to look, many to cheer them on.

  ‘Ein Volk, ein Reich, ein Führer!’ One People, One State, One Leader. The chanting from the lorries was being taken up by the crowd. More and more lorries streamed in to join the cavalcade. ‘Where have they come from?’ Izaac wondered aloud. Less than quarter of an hour had passed since he had been listening to poor Schuschnigg’s last despairing message. Had these people been hiding like rats in the sewers, knowing that this moment would come? Hitler had won. This was the Anschluss; Austria was being sucked into the Greater German State. The people cheering below were his neighbours! Had they no idea what they were letting into their country?

  Izaac watched in disbelief as lorry after lorry trundled past. Now there was a new chant; his stomach tightened, and his knees felt weak.

  ‘Juda verrecke! Juda verrecke!’ Die Jew! Die Jew! The chanting got louder and louder, the syllables spat out with machinegun precision, ‘Ju-da ver-re-cke!’ He drew back involuntarily. While others were throwing their windows wide, Izaac was struggling to close his. As the windows closed the sound was suddenly muted, he turned his back to the glass and looked at his hands; they were shaking with a fine vibrato.

  ‘Oh Louise, I never dreamed that this would happen here.’

  By evening, tales were spreading that, everywhere in the city, Jews were being dragged out of their apartments and being made to pick off with their fingernails, the posters advertising the vote that had never happened. Only Lotte, who was fair haired and clearly not Jewish, had dared to go out. Within a few minutes, however, she was back, panting. She rushed into the music room.

  ‘Izaac! Open those curtains quick, quick! And a window or two!’ She was struggling with a latch. ‘They are looking up at apartments to see where the curtains are drawn and the windows closed. That’s how they’re trying to spot Jewish families or their sympathisers!’ So, thanks to Lotte, and perhaps good neighbours who didn’t betray them, there was no knock on their door that night.

  The following morning Izaac began work as usual, feeling that this alone would blot out the madness of last night. He had a concert that hadn’t yet been cancelled, so he set about preparing for it. He paused, his bow hovering over his strings. Suddenly he felt a sound so deep that it seemed to be rising through his feet. He noticed Louise look up too. It was as if a crack in the earth was opening … a sound swelling louder … and louder. He looked at the piano in amazement; a snow of white petals was drifting down from a branch of cherry blossom that Lotte had placed there yesterday. Now even the strings of the piano were resonating.

  ‘What’s happening, Louise? Is it an earthquake?’ He moved to the window; when he touched the frame he could feel it vibrating under his fingertips. Immediately a line of black shadows swept overhead; he ducked involuntarily, like a bird below an eagle. A flight of German bombers was sweeping over, all in perfect formation; black crucifixes against the clouds. Another roar, and another line of crosses swept to join the massed tombstones in the sky. On they came, line after line. He could see the swastika markings clear on their wings, even the heads of the pilots. Suddenly it was all over and all that remained was a sky full of leaflets, fluttering and falling over the city like the petals from the cherry branch on the piano.

  There had been real snow, a late fall, during the night. Hunched over Lotte’s wireless, the family had heard the adulation of the thousands who welcomed Hitler when he crossed the border from Germany and drove in triumph int
o his home town of Linz. Now when he looked along the street, Izaac noticed a change; the black and red of Nazi flags had joined the red and white of Austria, ‘Free and Independent’ no longer. Overnight even these had been defiled: hastily stitched swastikas strutted over Austria’s flags like crow’s feet. Stitched in fear or in triumph, he wondered?

  Lorries were approaching, grinding through the slush, but what a contrast to yesterday’s rabble. These vehicles passed with military precision: lorry after lorry, their open backs crammed with soldiers all staring straight ahead, shoulder to shoulder, their rifles vertical between their knees, helmets looking like eggs in an egg-box. It was terrifying, but magnificent in its way. At least with the German army here, surely the rabble would be dispersed. There was nothing Izaac could do, so he turned back into the room.

  ‘Where were we, Louise?’ he asked, hoping to lose himself in music.

  CHAPTER 18

  Untersturmführer Erich Hoffman

  The summer following the Anschluss passed in a strange limbo. Izaac still had professional engagements. When he crossed the border into Switzerland to play the Brahms Violin Concerto in Geneva, he found himself part of a stream of Jews fleeing west. They were all urging him to leave while the border was open; he would be welcome anywhere because of his talent. When he got home he tried to persuade his parents to go, but his mother, whose health was failing, wouldn’t even contemplate moving.

  ‘Izaac, you go,’ she said. ‘I am too old, too sick to face the journey.’ The family discussions went on and on. Only Uncle Rudi seemed to sense any real danger, and he was voted down. Louise, listening to the family discussion, wanted to scream: ‘Go, go. Pick the old lady up and carry her, but go!’ She had been through a pogrom in France and knew its horrors. Time slipped by and a strange lethargy settled over them.