Hearing Stolle's name mentioned in the same breath as the Fuhrer 's was new since the failed Putsch. The Gauleiter 's status had risen as Buckliger's fell. The one was a hero, the other a victim. Even in the Reich, it turned out, there was such a thing as moral authority.
A map of Germany appeared in gray on the screen. Here and there, it was measled with green spots. There were also red spots, but far fewer of them. "Green shows pro-reform candidates with substantial leads in their districts," Witzleben said. "Red shows candidates of the other sort who are in the lead. If we look more closely at Berlin"-the map changed as he spoke-"we see that every district but one in the capital of the Reich supports reform. Rolf Stolle himself is being sent to the Reichstag by a margin of better than six to one over his foe, building contractor Engelbert Hackmann."
"Good," Susanna murmured. That wasn't a surprise, but it was a relief.
The map went back to coverage of the whole Reich. More of it had turned green. Some more had turned red, too, but not nearly so much. Then it shifted again, this time to a detailed look at the Protectorate of Bohemia and Moravia. Most of that area was green, except for a few red patches in the former Sudetenland.
Horst Witzleben continued, "Along with electing delegates to the Reichstag, the people of the Protectorate are also voting on a nonbinding referendum concerning their relationship with the Reich. Latest returns show that seventy-seven percent favor the declaration of independence proclaimed by the Unity organization in the wake of the Putsch, while only twenty-three percent wish to continue as a Reichs protectorate-in effect, a province of the Reich. Most of the delegates elected are pledged to bring this issue to the attention of the new Reichstag, and to seek relief."
That was pretty dizzying, too. True, the referendum had no official weight, any more than the declaration had. But it wouldn't have been on the ballot if those things didn't count for something. And the Czechs had shown a lot of nerve in reminding the world they hadn't forgotten the freedom they'd known between the first two World Wars. How could a Reichstag chosen on the basis of self-determination ignore it once in office?
Maybe they'll say the Czechs are only Slavs, and too ignorant to know what they're talking about, Susanna thought cynically. But in that case, why give them the chance to speak their minds? Susanna had yet to hear anyone, no matter how radical a reformer, speak up for letting Poles or Ukrainians or Russians tell the world what they wanted. Their opinions didn't matter. Why else had God put them on earth except to be worked to death?
And no one had spoken up for keeping Heinrich Gimpel and his daughters alive when they were arrested. Had the authorities decided he was a Jew and they first-degree Mischlingen, they would have been killed, and that would have been that. The Reich had come further in the past year than in the previous lifetime. It still had a long way to go. Susanna suspected neither Buckliger nor Stolle realized how far.
Maybe Charlie Lynton did, over in London. He had the British Union of Fascists out several steps in front of the German National Socialists. That took special nerve in a subject ally. And the white-haired Czech playwright who led Unity seemed to have a good understanding of where the Reich needed to go. Whether it would go there was another question.
More and more of the map filled in. There were spots where red predominated over green: Bavaria, parts of Prussia, rural Austria (Vienna was a different story). But it looked as if reformers would have a solid majority. How solid would it have been had Prutzmann not tried his Putsch? Susanna feared it would have been much less so, but nobody would ever know now.
Then the camera cut away from the map, away from the studio. There was Heinz Buckliger, walking through the little square in front of the Gauleiter 's residence with Rolf Stolle. Stolle was pointing to the makeshift memorials that had sprung up where SS panzers crushed Berliners: flowers, candles, notes tothe dead, and one big sign that said,FREIHEIT UBER ALLES!
"The two chief architects of this remarkable day confer," Horst said quietly.
It didn't look like a conference to Susanna. It looked as if the Gauleiter was lecturing the Fuhrer. And it looked as if Heinz Buckliger was taking it. He would nod whenever Stolle stuck out a finger and made a point. Once, Stolle laughed at something and slapped him on the back, hard enough to stagger him. Buckliger took that, too, though it was anything but the gesture of a subordinate to a superior. Despite their titles, it didn't seem as if the Gauleiter were the Fuhrer 's subordinate.
Stolle pointed to the FREIHEIT UBER ALLES! sign. Buckliger earnestly nodded again. Stolle didn't really understand what the sign meant, either. Susanna had already realized that. But if you said the words often enough, didn't you sooner or later have to go where they led you?
Didn't you?We'll find out, Susanna thought.
Francesca came bounding up to Alicia at lunchtime. "Guess what!" she cried.
"I don't know," Alicia said. "What?"
"Frau Koch is gone!" her sister caroled. "Gone, gone, gone! We've got a new teacher. His name is Herr Mistele. He smiles at people like he means it. Smiles! The Beast is gone. Gone, gone, gone!"
"That's wonderful. Too bad it didn't happen sooner," Alicia said, and Francesca's head bounced up and down in unreserved agreement. Alicia asked, "Did he say why the Beast left?" With Frau Koch not there, Alicia came out with the nickname without looking over her shoulder first to see whether any other teachers could hear.
Francesca frowned. "He said…" She paused, trying to make sure she got the words just right. "He said, with the political something the way it was-"
"The situation?" Alicia broke in.
"That's right. That's the word I couldn't come up with." Francesca started over: "He said, with the political sit-u-a-tion the way it was, it was better if Frau Koch did something else for a while. As far as I'm concerned, she can do something else forever."
"Maybe she will," Alicia said. "She liked Lothar Prutzmann a lot, didn't she?" Francesca nodded again. Alicia continued, "Well, with Prutzmann dead and gone and with the Putsch down the drain, naturally they're going to get rid of people like that. She's probably lucky she's not in jail. Or maybe she is."
"Ooh!" her sister said. "Ooh! Ihope she is. She said Daddy deserved to be, back when they grabbed him and us. I hope she finds out what it's like." Francesca liked revenge.
"It could happen." Alicia didn't mind the idea of the Beast behind bars, either-far from it. And when one side won a political fight, the other side suffered. That had been true in the Reich ever since the Night of the Long Knives. Sooner or later, though, didn't revenge have to stop, or at least slow down? If it didn't, who'd be left after a while? That made more sense than Alicia wished it did. All the same, she couldn't help hoping vengeance wouldn't stop till Frau Koch got what was coming to her. She waved and called, "Hey, Trudi! Listen!"
"What's up?" Trudi Krebs called.
Alicia nudged her sister. "Tell her."
Francesca did. Trudi's eyes widened. "Really?" she whispered. Francesca crossed her heart.I don't think Jews are supposed to do that, went through Alicia's mind.She hadn't done it since she found out what she was. Then she stopped worrying about it. Trudi put one arm around her and the other around Francesca and started dancing both of them around in a circle, whooping while she danced.
"What's going on?" another girl called. Trudi and Francesca both shouted out the news. The other girl jumped straight up in the air. Then she ran over and started dancing, too. More girls heard the news, too, and joined the circle. It got bigger and bigger, spinning dizzily around the playground. A few boys even danced with them, mostly ones who'd had the Beast and knew what Francesca's class was escaping.
"Was ist hier los?" A man's voice-a teacher's voice-stopped the exuberance in its tracks where nothing else would have. "Alicia Gimpel, tell me at once."
"Jawohl, Herr Peukert." All panting and sweaty, Alicia paused. "It's nothing,Herr Peukert. We're just…happy,Herr Peukert."
Would he ask why they were happy? Would their being lou
d and disorderly count for more? It would have with a lot of teachers.Herr Peukert kept right on looking stern. But then, slowly and thoughtfully, he nodded. "Happy is not a bad thing for children to be. You may continue." He turned his back on the circle. He didn't turn around when the dancing started again.
"He knows why," Francesca whispered to Alicia. "He knows, but he doesn't care." Wonder filled her face.
"Nobody cares about what happened to the Beast." Alicia corrected herself: "Except that she's gone, I mean." She couldn't think of a better reason to dance.
When lunch ended and students went into their classrooms again, hers buzzed with the news. Nobody could hold still. Nobody could keep quiet. A lot of Alicia's classmates had suffered through a year with Frau Koch. Some of the ones who hadn't had a brother or sister who had, the way Alicia did. And all the boys and girls knew what the Beast was like.
Herr Peukert put up with it longer than Alicia thought he would. At last, though, he said, "Enough. If you want to dance at lunch or after school, that's your business. When you're here, though, we have work to do. You may not care about it now, but some of it will be important later on. Kindly buckle down and pay attention."
And they did, or most of them did. The bargain seemed fair to Alicia. The boys and girls-mostly boys-who kept on being noisy were the ones who were always noisy in class.Herr Peukert had a lot more patience than Herr Kessler had, but he didn't own an infinite supply. He gave the loudest, most obnoxious boy a swat. The whack of paddle on backside did an amazing job of calming the others down.
Nobody on the bus going home told the children to be quiet. They giggled and squealed and sang songs, most of them about the things a Beast did in the woods. They would have danced in the aisle, but that was too much for the long-suffering bus driver. "You got to stay in your seats," he shouted over the din in the bus. "You got to. Them's the rules, by God."
The children did sit down. Maybe that was simply fear about what would happen to them if they didn't, but maybe it was something more, too. In the Reich, few arguments carried more weight thanthem's the rules. The rules and good order went hand in hand, and German children learned to obey along with their other lessons.
But we wouldn't obey Lothar Prutzmann, even if the Beast thought we ought to,Alicia thought. Then something else crossed her mind-what do you mean, we?She couldn't automatically think of herself as a German any more. That was what being a Jew did to her: it made her an outsider in her own country.
Part of her still wished for the feeling of belonging she'd had before she found out what she was. But, considering a lot of the things Germans had done, maybe being on the outside looking in was the better part of the bargain.
Had Lise Gimpel expected miracles from the new Reichstag, she would have been disappointed. Since she expected very little, she found herself pleasantly surprised every now and again. The delegates chose Rolf Stolle as their Speaker. The Gauleiter used his new bully pulpit to go right on slanging Heinz Buckliger for not doing enough, and for not doing it fast enough. That didn't surprise Lise at all.
Laws cutting back the powers of the SS did. So did the public hangings of a couple of Lothar Prutzmann's chief henchmen. The dangling bodies-shown on the evening news-declared the new laws had teeth. The lesson was unsubtle and thoroughly Nazi, but no less effective for that.
Holland held elections, too, and chose a parliament with a non-Fascist majority. Panzers didn't roll. The German Foreign Ministry said not a word. Dutchmen didn't dance in the streets. They didn't seem to want to give the Reich any excuse to change its mind. Lise couldn't blame them.
As summer gave way to fall, Heinrich said the Americans were getting friskier than ever. "What will they do?" Lise asked him. "Will they try to rebel?"
"I don't think so. I hope not," her husband answered. "That would be just what…some people needed." He still spoke carefully. The house might be bugged.
"How hard would the government…the way it is now…try to stop them?"
"I don't know that, either," Heinrich said. "But if the government…the way it is now…didn't try to stop them, I don't think it would be the government for very long."
"But they really have put a boot on the SS's neck," Lise protested.
"I wasn't talking about the SS. I was talking about the Wehrmacht, " Heinrich said. "The Army won't put up with weakness here, and it won't want to let the Yankees get too strong. They aren't like the Dutch or the Czechs. They could be rivals. They could be worse rivals than the Empire of Japan, because they're more like us. The Wehrmacht wouldn't like that at all, and how can you blame it?"
Lise eyed her husband before answering. He'd tacked on the last half dozen words, she judged, to keep anyone on the other end of a bug happy. "Who possibly could?" she said in the same spirit. "After it broke up the Putsch, who could blame it for anything?"
Heinrich started to nod, then caught himself and wagged a finger at her, as if to say,Naughty, naughty. Lise stuck out her tongue. Maybe she'd meant you couldn't blame the Wehrmacht for anything because it hadn't done anything blameworthy. Or maybe she'd meant you didn't dare blame it for anything, because it was the greatest power in the land. Which? Her green eyes dancing, she shook her head. She was a woman. She was entitled to her mysteries. And she wasn't altogether sure herself.
"What about the Czechs?" she asked, changing the subject a little. "Will the Reich let them go?"
Her husband shrugged. "Beats me. They have the vote last summer to back up their declaration of independence. And if anybody can outfinagle the Foreign Ministry, it's the fellow they've got leading Unity. He can make you feel ashamed when you do something that isn't on the up-and-up, and how many people are able to do that? But…"
"Yes. But." Lise knew why Heinrich hesitated. The Czechs were Slavs, and Slavs, even Slavs like the Czechs who'd been entangled in German affairs since time out of mind, were in the National Socialist way of thinking Untermenschen. If you once started making concessions to Untermenschen, didn't you acknowledge they might not be so inferior after all? And if you acknowledged that, how did you justify the massacres and the slave labor that had filled the last seventy years?
Even more to the point, if you acknowledged that Slavs-or some Slavs-might not be Untermenschen, didn't you take a step towards acknowledging that Jews also might not be Untermenschen?Could a National Socialist government take a step in that direction?
"the Fuhrer has said mistakes were made in years gone by," Heinrich said; if the Fuhrer said it, it couldn't possibly be treasonous-as long as he stayed Fuhrer. "If we decide to set some of those mistakes to rights, that wouldn't be so bad."
"No. Of course it wouldn't," Lise answered. Even though the Czechs were doing most of the agitating these days, they'd got off relatively easy. How could the Reich make amends to the relative handful of Poles and Russians and Ukrainians who still survived?
And, for that matter, how could the Reich make amends to the handful of Jews who, in spite of everything, still survived? Lise knew an impossibility when she saw one. Come to that, she didn't want a parade of blackshirts and Party Bonzen clicking their heels and apologizing to her. That sort of spectacle might appeal to Susanna, but then Susanna reveled in opera. All Lise wanted was to be left alone, to get on with her life regardless of what she happened to be.
"We're asking questions we couldn't even have imagined a couple of years ago," Heinrich said. "Next to the questions, the answers don't seem quite so important."
"Says who?" Lise inquired sarcastically. "If the Security Police had come up with a different answer to their question a few months ago, you wouldn't be here trying to come up with answers to yours."And the girls wouldn't be here, either, she thought,and it wouldn't matter whether I was here or not because I'd be dead inside.
After a brief pause, her husband nodded. "Well, you're right," he said. One of the reasons they'd stayed pretty happily married the past fifteen years was that they were both able to say that when they needed to.
&nbs
p; "Politics!" Lise turned the word into a curse. "I wish politics never had anything to do with us. I wish we could just go on about our business."
"Part of our business is making the Reich better. That's part of everybody's business right now, I think," Heinrich said. "If we don't make it better, what'll happen? We saw before the election-other people will make it worse, that's what."
Lise wanted to quarrel with him. But she remembered too well the horror that had coursed through her when Lothar Prutzmann's tame announcer started going on about the State Committee for the Salvation of the Greater German Reich. And, remembering, she too said those three little words almost as important as I love you: "Well, you're right."
Heinrich, Lise, and the girls closed their umbrellas when they came up onto the Stutzmans' front porch. The walk from the bus stop had been wet, but not too wet. Winter was thinking about making way for spring. It hadn't got around to doing it yet; still, the worst of the nasty weather was probably past. Heinrich dared hope so, anyway.
All three Gimpel girls raced for the doorbell. Francesca rang it a split second before Alicia or Roxane could. Heinrich and Lise smiled over the girls' heads. They would do that at elevators, too, which made their parents require that they take turns pressing those buttons.Anyone would think they're children or something, went through Heinrich's mind. He smiled again.
Esther Stutzman opened the door. "Come in! Come in! Welcome! Welcome!" she said, and stood aside. Delicious odors wafted out of the doorway: cooking meat, new-baked bread, and something else, something spicy, Heinrich couldn't quite place.
"Oh, good-you've got a mat out," Lise said. "We don't want to drip all over your front hall." She wagged a warning finger at the girls. "Don't you go running all over till you get out of your raincoats, do you hear me?" The warning came just in time. Alicia was trembling with eagerness to charge up to Anna's room.
In The Presence of mine Enemies Page 53
