Restitution (5 page)

George Popper's family came for dinner several weeks later, but food took second place to the animated conversation between George's parents and Karl's.

“I've been telling Victor for months now that we should ready ourselves in case we need to leave here,” Marie declared. “The occupation of Austria is just the beginning of Hitler's crusade. But my husband doesn't see things my way.”

“Don't be silly,” said Mr. Popper gently. “We aren't in danger here. Great Britain will always guarantee our independence and integrity against any forceful aggression from outside.” George's father sounded exactly like his own, Karl thought. Zigmund Popper was a gregarious man who believed in his family's assimilation into the country as much as Victor did.

“That's what I keep telling Marie, but she doesn't seem to want to believe me,” Victor said. “She seems bent on leaving Rakovník, whereas I believe we are safest staying right here.”

Also seated at the table was Rita Popper, George's sister and Hana's best friend. Rita was a pretty girl with straight brown hair. Her serious disposition was an interesting match for Hana's usual sense of fun. But both girls were silent that night, seemingly glued to the conversation.

“I saw one of our neighbors the other day, and she told me that her children have left for Palestine,” said Mrs. Popper. “That poor woman. She seemed so bereft without them. Can you imagine separating your family like that?” Irena Popper was quieter than her husband in these social situations, but in her work, she was a force to be reckoned with. She ran the clothing business that she owned with her husband virtually single-handedly.

“Never!” declared Marie. “If we must go, we'll go together.”

“Let me remind you that those children left for religious reasons,” Victor replied. “They are the most observant family in town and their children wanted to pursue a more Jewish life in Palestine. That's not the case for any of us.”

“I agree,” added Mr. Popper. “We're Czechs first and Czechs we will always be. There will be no restrictions on us here in our homeland.”

By now Karl had tired of this conversation. He excused himself from the table, motioned George to follow him, and the two boys made their way up onto the roof of the house where they could have their own discussion away from the adults.

“They say that we might be barred from attending school here,” Karl said, pulling his jacket tighter around his body and flipping the collar up to protect his neck. The night air was brisk, though the sky was clear and overflowing with stars. “Can you imagine if they close our school to Jews?”

George pushed his glasses up on his nose and nodded. He was a tall, stout young man, with a bookwormish look that matched his exceptional intellect. “I'll be leaving at the end of this term to go to university in Prague. I think that, with everything happening in Austria, it'll be a relief to get out of Rakovník and into the big city. It's killing my mother to see me go,” he added. “But at least it's close by. I'm sure I'll be back frequently.”

“What about the rest of your family?” Karl asked.

“They'll stay here,” replied George.

Karl nodded and said nothing. He knew he would miss his good friend – and he feared that when George left and Karl became the only Jewish student at the school, he would become even more of a target.

The ensuing days were uneventful. Everyone returned to their work or business, putting the events in Austria into the background, lulled into a false sense of confidence that no news was a sign of stability. And then one day Hana returned home from school anxious and distracted. Without pausing to say hello to her mother, she stormed up the staircase and pounded on Karl's bedroom door.

“What is it?” he asked as soon as he saw her face.

“Listen,” she replied, dead serious. “I have to tell you what happened on the way home today.”

She had been riding her bicycle home from school as she often did. The streets were quiet. “I was passing the photography shop and I saw that there were lots of pictures displayed in the store window. So I stopped to look at them.”

The previous year, Hana, Karl, and their parents had gone to this studio for a family portrait. It had taken forever for the photographer to compose the family and snap his picture, long tedious hours during which Karl and Hana had wished they were outdoors with their friends, or reading a book, anything rather than being forced to primp and pose for a camera lens. But everyone had to admit that the final result was well worth the effort. The family portrait that hung in the living room was attractive and expertly done.

“I was thinking about our portrait and I was curious to see the other family photographs that the shopkeeper had lined up in the window.” Hana paced in Karl's room as she recounted her story. “And that's when I saw it.”

In the center of this gallery, proudly displayed, was one large framed picture that made Hana's blood run cold. It was an SS officer, no one that Hana recognized, but his uniform was unmistakable – particularly the swastika on his armband that radiated from the portrait.

“I couldn't believe my eyes,” continued Hana. “He was smiling in the picture, but all I saw was the Nazi insignia on his arm. I just glared at his face.” She stopped and faced her brother. “What are they doing proudly displaying this picture of a Nazi? Don't they know what he is?”

“What did you do?” asked Karl. He felt his own blood boil.

Hana gazed calmly at her brother. “I looked around her to see if anyone was close by. Then I looked back at the photo of the SS officer and I spat directly at the shop window.” Hana finished her story. “That's what I did!”

Karl returned her gaze evenly and nodded his approval. “If I had been there, I would have done exactly the same thing, Hana,” he said. Meanwhile, in the Reiser household, more plans were being developed that would provide some safety for its members. Father Ferdinand Hrouda was a sympathetic priest in town. Victor knew this when he approached him to arrange for the priest to perform a Catholic marriage ceremony for Marie and himself. Notwithstanding his ongoing belief that Czech Jews were safe, Victor felt that Catholic marriage papers might provide some added protection in the event that they were targeted in any way. Father Hrouda obliged. He agreed to witness Victor and Marie's vows in a private ceremony. He signed the marriage certificate and provided the family with false baptismal certificates. Armed with these papers, Victor and Marie returned home to show their children.

“I always wanted to show your mother how much I loved her,” teased Victor. “I never imagined I would do it in a Catholic service. What would our rabbi think of this?”

It's so easy for father to joke
, thought Karl. But he wondered if these papers would really do anything to protect the family. Were they being naive to think that a piece of paper would separate them from other Jewish families in Rakovník if the Nazis came looking? Sometimes, Karl dismissed these negative thoughts and, like his father, held fast to his belief that all would be well. But these moments of calm were followed by moments of utter anxiety. More and more, he was beginning to fear that Jewish identity was not merely about religious observance. He could no more divorce himself from his Jewish heritage than he could deny his red hair and freckles. His father could pretend that being Jewish was of lesser importance. He could proclaim their Czech nationalism; he could try to hide his family behind Catholic documents. But, at the end of the day, they were being targeted for their roots – their genetics – and theirs were clearly Jewish.

Mother was not nearly as good-humored as Father. “There's one more thing that I want you to do,” she insisted. “That villa in Prague that is owned by our friends, the Zelenkas – I want you to rent the downstairs flat from them.” Victor looked puzzled. “It will be a place to go if we need it,” she continued. “It will be easier for us to hide our identities in Prague amongst the masses.”

Even with the Catholic papers in their possession, Marie's mind was still focused on leaving Rakovník. She had not abandoned the plan of getting out of the country, but Prague would be the first step in her exit strategy.

Victor shrugged. “What if people suspect that we are trying to run away?”

“Your business takes you to Prague every week,” Marie replied quickly. It was true that Victor traveled to the capital city every Tuesday to sell his grain crops on the commodity exchange. “If anyone asks, we'll say that you are tired of staying in hotels,” she continued, detailing an explanation that sounded as if it was already well rehearsed. “People will understand that a flat is a more comfortable place to stay.”

Victor finally relented and, with his consent, it appeared as if the family might actually abandon their home and flee to a safer place.

No one in Karl's hometown suspected that his family was fashioning an escape plan. They shared no information with friends or other family members. Marie in particular did not want to implicate anyone else in their arrangements; she did not trust that anyone would be able to keep their plans a secret. As for Karl, he said nothing to any of his classmates. No one in any case would have cared about the intentions of the only Jewish boy in class. Besides, this was the
septima
, the last year of high school, and Karl's
matura
, the final exams, were fast approaching. They would be tough, a long set of oral and written tests that would determine his readiness for university. This should have been the most important time in Karl's academic life. He should have been solely focused on his studies, day and night, analyzing mathematical problems, memorizing historical dates, conjugating verbs in Latin and French. But Karl was thinking of none of this. The unrest that had begun in Austria was finally and inevitably moving inside the borders of Czechoslovakia.

The three million German-speaking citizens living in Sudetenland continued to claim that they were oppressed under the control of the Czech government. The reports that appeared in the local newspaper told of increasing clashes on the northern border between Sudeten Germans and Czechs. The leader of the Sudeten German Party was Konrad Henlein who had come to power in 1935 in an election that had been largely financed with Nazi money. On March 28, 1938, Hitler instructed Henlein to increase Sudetenland's demands for autonomy and its union with Nazi Germany. If the Czech government did not accede to these demands and turn over this part of Czechoslovakia to Germany, Hitler was threatening to support the Sudeten Germans with military force. The Czech government led by President Edvard BeneÅ¡ turned to Britain and France, hoping that these powers would come to his country's aid. But this was to no avail. Britain and France were determined to avoid war at all costs. Britain's Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain said, “How horrible, fantastic, incredible it is that we should be digging trenches and trying on gas masks here because of a quarrel in a faraway country between people of whom we know nothing…. However much we may sympathize where a small nation is confronted by a big and powerful neighbor, we cannot in all circumstances undertake to involve the whole British empire in war simply on her account.”
²

In the end, Czechoslovakia's allies did not stand up for her at all. The Munich Agreement, signed by Germany, Italy, France, and the United Kingdom, stipulated that Czechoslovakia must cede the Sudeten territory to Germany. In exchange, the understanding was that Hitler would not make any further demands for land. Chamberlain held the signed document in his hand, waving it above his head as he addressed the British public and read aloud the details of the accord. “We regard the agreement signed last night as symbolic of the desire of our two peoples never to go to war with one another again…. My good friends this is the second time in our history that there has come back from Germany to Downing Street peace with honor. I believe it is peace in our time.”
³
This could not have been further from the truth.

On October 5, 1938, as German troops were marching unopposed into Sudetenland, Beneš resigned as president, realizing that the fall of his country was inevitable. Almost a third of Czechoslovakia would now be subsumed into the growing Third Reich. The realization that the country was being pulled apart was hitting everyone in town with equal force.

Karl arrived at school on that day with his friend George. All around them, students were huddled in small groups, some talking frantically about the impact of these new developments in the north. Others stood in muted silence, absorbing the news and barely able to comprehend the impact on themselves and their country.

“Everyone looks as if they're at a funeral,” George commented as the two boys pushed their way past their classmates and climbed the steps of the school building. “The country should have seen this one coming. Sudeten Germans have been clashing with the government forever.”

“No one could have imagined this,” replied Karl. “Countries are simply not carved up like this.”

“Then you're blind, too,” said George bitterly. There was a long pause and then he added, “Hitler's not going to stop. He's got Austria, and now he's got a part of this country. It's only the beginning.”

“Stop it!” demanded Karl. “You're starting to sound more and more like my mother.”

“I think she may be the one who's got it right after all,” George replied, breathing deeply. “If Hitler can take over a third of our country just like that, who knows what else he's capable of doing. The man is hungry for more. He's like a bear that smells blood – he'll stalk his prey until he devours it all.”

Karl had never heard his friend sound so cynical or contemptuous. The two boys stood silently watching their fellow students begin to assemble for the start of classes. A strange stillness had settled on the school grounds – a sense of dark foreboding.