Lawrence shook his head. “Not today, Eli. The new lists won’t come out for two more weeks. But don’t lose faith. Esther could be anywhere. There are 416 camps in the U.S. zone, 272 in the British zone and 21 more in Italy. There’s more than a million displaced persons, but people do reconnect every day.”
Eli hung his head. “Thanks, Lawrence.”
“Whenever a new list comes in, I always check it for Esther. You have my word.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it.”
“You never know, Eli. Someone might show up who’s seen her or knows where she is. Stranger things have happened.”
Eli nodded and left the office, thinking, There’s one person who will have the information. A man I thought was long dead.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
FÖHRENWALD DP CAMP
AMERICAN ZONE
OCTOBER 1946
The opportunity to apprehend Max was at hand. Bernard requested that Daniel and Eli meet him at the assembly hall at 5:00 p.m. He had also summoned Olga Helstein, Chaim Warshawski, David Fromen and Zygmund Stern, the individuals who had contact with Max and his black-market visa scheme. Bernard addressed the group as a whole. “Olga has received word that Max will be coming to Föhrenwald. We’re going to work together, and we’re going to catch him and stop his schemes once and for all. Olga, tell them what you know.”
“I contacted Max through his address in Munich. I told him that Chaim and David were waiting for their visas and that Zygmund had raised the money. I also told him that two other residents were interested in talking to him and they had money as well.”
“Exactly,” Bernard said. “Those were my instructions. What was his response?”
“Well, he praised me for being such a good agent, and he promised that he would pay me my share. Hmph. Then he told me he would be coming next week and he’d send me the details. I don’t know if he plans on coming to the camp or if he wants to meet somewhere else.”
“What about the visas?”
“He said he had David’s and Chaim’s visas in his possession. He was going to bring them.”
“That’s great. When we learn the location, I’ll need all of you to be there. When the money and visas change hands, the military police will grab him, and we’ll have more than enough evidence to convict him. If we put enough pressure on him, if he sees that he’s going to prison, he’ll give up his contact in America.”
Chaim stepped forward and cleared his throat. “Bernard, I want to say something. Olga said that Max has the visas in his possession. And let’s be frank, an American visa represents liberation. Freedom. A new start. Before we destroy a person’s chance of getting out of the camp and going to America, are we absolutely certain that the visas are illegal? I mean, what if it’s not a crime to get visas for a person and charge him a processing fee, you know, for services rendered? Back in Warsaw, if you wanted to get a license, you always had to pay someone. There was always money passed around, often under the table. That was an accepted way of doing business, part of the transaction.”
“Chaim,” Bernard said sternly, “these are not liquor licenses. They’re not bakery licenses. These are United States visas that can only be issued by the Immigration and Naturalization Department of the United States through an authorized consulate. They are not sold by individual salesmen. The consulates keep careful records and they have quotas. Right now, there are three hundred thousand people in American Zone DP camps, and do you know what the immigration quota is? It’s set at a mere six thousand a year. There’s a waiting list a mile long, Chaim. If there are only six thousand visas and you buy one of them, you have deprived the person who was next in line. Don’t you see that? Visas are not for sale, and Max is a criminal.”
Chaim’s eyes were red. His voice quavered. “But he already has the visa in his possession, and it has my name, Chaim Warshawski, on it. It’s already been issued. To me! I don’t know what’s so wrong if I take it and go to my family in Philadelphia. Bernard, I’m begging you. I’ve got to get out of here. I can’t stay in a damn camp anymore. I’ve been in a camp since 1941. I’m losing my mind.” His voice caught in his throat. “Please, please, I’m begging you. Let me take the visa and go. You can arrest Max for trying to sell the other visas. You’ll still have plenty of evidence, and you will have stopped him from future violations. Bernard, I can’t go on living in a camp.”
“I’m sorry, Chaim. We can’t permit it.” Then to the group he said, “When we find out the day, time and place, we’ll contact all of you. The military police will be there, and it will be over quickly.”
* * *
Two hours later, Eli called out, “Izzie, get your coat. It’s time to go.”
“Papa, I don’t want to go to a stupid poetry reading. Let me stay home. I’ll do my homework.”
“I thought you already did your homework.”
“I’ll check it over for mistakes. You can never be too careful.”
Eli smiled. “Izzie, you’re going to like this program. It’s not just poetry; there is a singer, a lovely woman named Adinah who sings like a bird. Beautiful music. And she knows ‘Oyfn Pripetchik.’”
Izaak’s face lit up. “I like that song! I learned it in Lublin. I used to sing it with Mama.”
“I know, and wait until you hear Adinah. She’s a wonderful singer. And she knows lots of other Yiddish songs. You’ll have a good time.”
Eli and Izaak found seats next to Bernard in the first row, right in front of the stage. News of the program had spread throughout the camp, and the assembly hall filled up quickly. There was a palpable buzz, an air of anticipation, and it wasn’t to hear poetry. Word had spread that a professional singer, maybe even Isa Kremer herself, was appearing in Camp Föhrenwald!
The poetry reading was first on the program, and unfortunately for Mr. Klyber, the audience was a bit restless. They were waiting for an evening of Yiddish music, as advertised. Finally, it was time. Myron Levy took a seat at the piano, and Adinah quietly walked onto the stage. All eyes were on this shy and modest woman. What a surprise when her perfect voice filled the hall with the familiar melodies.
She began with “Her Nor Du Sheyn Meydele.” “Just Listen, You Pretty Girl.” Almost all of the residents knew the words, and they sang along quietly. It was a touch of home in a place that would never be a home. It harkened back to a stolen youth, a lost love, a quiet village. It beckoned the heart to revisit a way of life before the cataclysm in a way that only music could.
Izaak was mesmerized, totally immersed in the melodies he hadn’t heard in years. During her performance, Adinah locked eyes with Izaak and smiled. Now he was enamored by more than the music. Throughout the performance, Izaak felt that Adinah was singing directly to him. He leaned over and said, “Papa, don’t you think she looks a lot like Mama?”
Eli nodded. “Yes, I do. I thought the same thing when I first met her.”
She closed with “Bay Mir Bistu Sheyn”—“To Me, You Are Beautiful”—an internationally successful Yiddish song written in New York and immensely popular in Germany before Joseph Goebbels realized it was written by a Jew and banned the song. The applause was long and loud, and Bernard made Adinah promise to perform again in a few weeks.
As the crowd was filing out, Adinah stepped down off the stage and sat down next to Izaak. “I saw you singing with me on some of the songs,” she said. “Did you know all the words?”
Izaak bit his bottom lip. “I knew some of them.”
“You knew the words to ‘Oyfn Pripetchik.’”
“That one I know pretty well. I used to sing it with my mother.”
“Me too. My mother taught it to me. What is your name?”
Izaak looked to his dad, then back to Adinah. “Izaak Rosen.”
“How old are you, Izaak?”
“Twelve.”
“If your father permits, would you join me on the stage next time for ‘Oyfn Pripetchik’? We’ll sing a duet. I think it would be fun.”
Izaak blushed and looked to Eli for approval. “Could I, Papa?”
“I don’t see how you could turn that down, Izzie.”
* * *
It was later than usual when Eli put Izaak to bed. “Let’s get some sleep,” he said, tucking the covers under him. “You’ve got school tomorrow and a big football practice.”
“There’s no practice tomorrow. Not enough players.”
“No? How come? Did more players get sick?”
“No. Their moms won’t let them play. They’re afraid they’re going to get sick.”
“Well, that’s a shame. I hope this strain of illness goes away soon.”
Eli turned off the lights and started to leave the room when Izaak said, “Papa, did you like Adinah?”
“Yes, of course I did.”
“She’s nice. She smiles like Mama. Could we ask her to come over for dinner someday?”
“I don’t know much about her, Izzie. She may have her own children to attend to.”
“Then they could come, too. Please.”
“We’ll see. Good night, Izzie.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
FÖHRENWALD DP CAMP
AMERICAN ZONE
NOVEMBER 1946
When the last of the dinner dishes had been washed and put away, Eli said, “I have to go to a meeting for a little while tonight. Do you have homework to do?”
Izaak nodded and made a face. “English class. It’s impossible. I don’t know how American kids ever learn this language.”
Eli chuckled and said, “They might think Polish is hard.”
“No, Papa, English is harder, because they make rules and then they break the rules. You memorize one thing and then you find out it doesn’t work. Like the letter c. It can sound like a k in cookie, or it can sound like an s in center. How are you supposed to know? If you put the t and the h together, it can sound like tooth, where teacher says you put your tongue between your teeth. Or it can make a buzzing sound like a bee in that. Or an s can sound like a snake in soon, or it can be a z in because. And plurals? Forget it. They tell you that the rule is to add an s to the end of a word and then other times the whole word changes, like person and people. Who made up that stupid language?”
Eli smiled. “You can’t get by with Yiddish on the streets of America. We all have to learn the language if we’re going to live in America. You’ll surely need English if you want to play football with the other boys?”
“Soccer, Papa. That’s what they call it in America. Soccer. Do you think we’ll ever get there?”
“Absolutely. Do you know what the Yiddish expression is for America? Die Goldene Medina. The Golden Land, where all your dreams come true. We’ll get there, Izzie. And that’s a promise.”
“I hope so,” Izaak said, “and I hope that Mama gets there with us.” He turned his head and coughed.
Immediately, Eli said, “Are you all right? How long have you been coughing?”
“I’m fine. I think I have something in my throat. It’s nothing.”
“Do you have a sore throat?”
Izaak shook his head. “I’m not sick, Papa. I didn’t catch anything. I feel fine. I just had something in my throat.”
“Well, let’s keep an eye on it, okay? If you keep coughing, I want to know. It’s starting to snow outside. That wind’s whistling down from the Alps. You can already see the snowcapped mountains over Garmisch. I want you bundled up when you go out tomorrow.”
“I will, I will.”
“And tell me if you get a sore throat or you cough anymore tonight.”
“I know. I will. Go to your meeting.”
* * *
Bernard and Daniel were waiting when Eli arrived at the assembly hall. “Olga received a message from Max,” Bernard said. “He’s bringing the visas. He wants Chaim and David to personally accept their visas, he wants Zygmund to bring his fee and he also wants to meet Dr. Weisman and make a deal for two more visas. There will be two U.S. MPs standing by and watching the transactions.”
Eli’s heart started to thump. “When and where is this meeting going to take place?”
“I have instructed Olga to set the meeting at her house. It’s right in the center of the camp.”
“I have to be there, too, Bernard,” Eli said. “I have unfinished business with Maximilian.”
“I don’t like it,” Bernard responded with a shake of his head. “If he is the same man you know from Lublin and if he sees you, he’ll call the whole thing off.”
“I’ll stay out of sight until after the exchange, but when the MPs grab him, I want time alone with him.”
“Eli, I know you have some ancient vendetta going on here, but the prime objective is to catch Max and his U.S. contact and to stop the black-market visas.”
“Vendetta?” Eli said angrily. “You bet your ass I have a vendetta! But that’s not the main reason I need to confront him.”
Bernard was confused. “Then what is it?”
“It’s about Esther. Maximilian knows what happened to her. He vowed to protect her. I paid him to protect her! If I have any hope of learning what happened to my wife or of finding her if she’s still alive, that bastard will have the information, and I have made a solemn vow to get it out of him.”
The door swung open, and Olga walked into the assembly room. “Max says he wants the meeting at the café in Wolfratshausen and he won’t come into Föhrenwald. He’s skittish. He thinks it’s too dangerous for him.”
“Olga,” Bernard said, “when we spoke…”
“I did what you told me to, Bernard. I told Max that it’s too hard for everyone to get out of the camp and get transportation into Wolfratshausen, but he said he’s not coming into Föhrenwald. He’s going to do it his way or not at all. If they don’t like it, they don’t get a visa.”
“When does he want to meet?”
“Next Thursday night. Nine p.m.”
“He’s bluffing,” Daniel said. “He won’t cancel; he wants the money. It’s much easier to arrest him here in the camp. The military police don’t have jurisdiction in Wolfratshausen.”
“Yes, they do,” Bernard said. “It’s in the American occupation zone. I don’t want to take the chance of losing out on this opportunity. Olga, confirm the meeting at the café for next Thursday at nine. I will arrange for the MPs to locate themselves in and around the café. I will also talk to Chaim, David and Zygmund and arrange for their transportation. We will all meet here at Olga’s at eight p.m. Daniel and Eli will ride with me.”
* * *
A silver Volkswagen and an army jeep sat outside Olga Helstein’s residence with their motors idling on Thursday night. Bernard and Eli stood on the sidewalk waiting for the participants to take their places.
“I see David and Zygmund,” Eli said. “Where are the rest?”
“Olga’s inside the house. Daniel is bringing Dr. Weisman and should be along at any time. I don’t know about Chaim. I stopped by his house, and he wasn’t at home. I hope he hasn’t backed out of the meeting.”
“He’s not essential, is he? If Maximilian brings the visas, the others can make the exchange. That should be sufficient evidence.”
“It would, but I’m concerned about Chaim. At our meeting he was so desperate, so distraught.”
Joel Weisman and Daniel approached. “Are we all here?”
Bernard shook his head. “All but Chaim. I don’t think he’s coming.”
“I understand,” Dr. Weisman said. “It’s too emotional for him to see a visa with his name on it and know that he can’t have it.”
“The visa shouldn’t have his name on it,” Bernard said. “It’s there because he paid a criminal to put it there. I feel bad for Chaim, but I feel bad for a lot of people who are stuck in this camp. You can’t buy your way out.”
They waited fifteen more minutes. Bernard checked his watch and said, “Chaim is obviously not coming; we need to leave.”
As they drove through the night toward Wolfratshausen,
Bernard glanced at Eli, who was nervously opening and clenching his fists. “Do you really think he has information about Esther?”
Eli nodded. “Oh, yeah. He would know.”
The group rolled into Wolfratshausen and stopped a block from the café. Olga, David, Zygmund and Dr. Weisman walked into the restaurant. Two plainclothes MPs were already sitting at the bar. Daniel pulled his collar up, hung an unlit cigarette from his lips and took a position at the corner. Bernard and Eli remained in the jeep, out of sight.
At 9:30 Zygmund stepped outside to smoke a cigarette. He and Daniel strolled over to the jeep. “Max hasn’t come in yet,” Zygmund said. “How long do you want us to wait?”
“We wait a while longer,” Daniel said. “He could have been delayed. From what I hear, he’s a moneygrubbing thief. He’ll be here. Let’s wait.”
At 10:30 they called it a night. Max was a no-show.
“It was Chaim,” Bernard said. “There’s not a doubt in my mind. Chaim tipped him off in exchange for his visa, and he’s on his way to America. And I doubt we’ll ever see Max at Föhrenwald again.”
Eli slammed his hand on the back of the seat. “Damn! I really thought, after all this time, I’d get closer to finding Esther. Bernard, if Max is still in Germany, we’ve got to catch him.”
“Olga said he was just in Landsberg or Feldafing, and if so then he’s still in the Munich area. Unfortunately, I have no connection with the administrators of either of those camps. I’m going to have to contact OMGUS.”
“Who?”
“Office of the Military Government. General Lucius D. Clay is the acting American military governor and chief administrator of occupied Germany. I met him at his office in Berlin. I’m sure he’ll be happy to shut down a black-market visa operation. If anyone can throw a dragnet over Max, it’s General Clay. I will try to arrange something in the next few weeks.”
Eli's Promise Page 11
