Unsinkable (18 page)

Chapter One

 It had been so long since he had last been in this place, and yet it was as if he had never left. The afternoon sun cast long distorted shadows on the cobblestone streets and he realized that never once, in all the time he had spent here, had he noticed if the sun shone in this place.  In his memories, this place was dark and full of shadows. It was always night and played out like an old black and white movie.

It surprised him that so many people were here. People without ties to the past. People unlike himself who knew nothing of the horrors of this town. Nothing of what it had been like for so many people who had passed through the gates. Did they know the story of the place they had come to? Did they understand what it stood for? What had happened here?

Each direction he took brought still another memory. He had tried so hard to forget.  But how do you forget something so terrible? How do you erase a remembrance that brings pain? That stays with you your entire life?

As Max walked, he watched not only the tourists, those coming to see what this town was all about, trying to make some sense of what had happened here, but also the people who made this place their home. How did they live here day after day, knowing what it had been? How did they marry and raise families, go to work? How did they live among the ghosts of the past? Did they lie to themselves and pretend that it never happened? But then Max knew that you could learn to live with lies. That you could, in reality, even base your life on them.

He strolled along the streets, seeing it as it had been so many years ago, not as it was today. He saw the shop fronts freshly painted and waiting for deception. The playground in the park where children were only allowed to play one time. The sidewalks on which a person could be slapped for walking. How could the buildings be the same, have such a history and yet the town be so different today? He passed the star shaped walls that had once closed in on a town filled to twenty times its capacity. It looked quaint now, distinctly European, interesting, like an old movie set. Ironic that he should think of it that way, as once it had also served that purpose. He strolled on. Past the center of town and the theater where the children’s opera had been performed.  He could still hear their laughter as they captured the evil organ grinder on stage, the cheer that arose from the crowd at the triumphant finish.

He had promised himself he would come back someday. Now he wondered why he had made that promise. It had taken every bit of strength he had to walk across the moat and through the painted gate. He had lost so much here. His youth. His dreams.  And Ava.

He nearly bumped into the family in front of him, so absorbed in his own thoughts as he was. Parents and three pre- teen children. The thought that struck Max was why, why would anyone bring children to a place such as this? He hoped this wasn’t just one stop on a tour of such sites.  In Max’s opinion, these children were too young to see those horrors. There was time enough to learn about those kinds of places.

One of the children called out to his father. “Daddy, I thought you said we were going to a camp. I don’t see anybody camping.”

 “It isn’t that kind of camp,” the father replied, clearly not sure what else to say.

 “What is it then? What is this place?” the child asked.

  Max spoke. “This is Terezin.”

 The parents stopped and turned the children around. The mother looked at him for a moment and said softly, “You know about this place, don’t you?”

 All too well, Max thought, but he merely nodded.

 “Can you tell us about it? Can you explain to them what happened here?”

How could he explain so that these children would understand when after so many years he could not explain it to himself? He thought of other children who had passed through these gates, the ones who like so many others never returned. People like Ava. “It was designed to be a garrison town. That means a town for the military and their families to live.  It was meant to keep about six thousand people inside the walls.  During the late nineteen thirties and early nineteen forties, a man named Adolf Hitler turned it into a concentration camp. It was called a ghetto, but it was one of his camps. These weren’t camps for recreation. They were prisons for people who did nothing wrong. Their only crime was that their families worshipped a different way.”

The puzzled look on the children’s faces told him they still did not understand. He chose his words carefully. “At most of these camps, people were killed daily for no reason. Terezin was different, because the people were not killed in large numbers here. They were sent here, to work, and wait for the time they would be sent to the other places. There was very little food, no medicine, and the children were separated from their parents. People died here, from diseases like typhus. There were so many people it was impossible for illnesses not to spread. Many of the people who were imprisoned here were Jewish artists and writers, musicians and actors, and even the families of war heroes from the First World War. Those the world might have noticed had they simply all disappeared overnight. Because that is what happened during this time.  Because these creative people were here, there were cultural events, musicals, plays, literary groups. Art exhibits.  But do not think it was a happy place to be. The people always lived in fear.”

 “What were they afraid of?” another child asked.

“They were afraid they would be put on the trains for one of the other camps,” Max said. “They were afraid of dying. Every day they were here, they were afraid.

And they should have been. Once they left here there was very little hope of staying alive. Six million Jewish people alone died in these camps. Over a million of those were children.”

The father spoke. “So you were here?”

“Yes,” Max said. “I was here.”

“You were here because you were a prisoner?”  The children had gotten interested in his story.

“No,” Max said. “I was here because I was a Nazi.”

The parents each took one their children into their arms, as if to protect them from being in the presence of a Nazi, as if somehow the evil of the past would somehow be extended to their family.

“I wore the uniform, but I was not a fan of Hitler by the time I got here. Please, let me tell you my story. Let me tell you the truth about what happened within these walls.”

The mother saw something in his eyes. Knowledge, kindness, unspeakable sadness. “Okay. Tell us.”

“It is a long story.” Max said, a hint of a smile playing across his still handsome face. “And it all starts in Berlin, with a very beautiful woman.”

Chapter Two

 Ava Weiss walked across the street and sat on a park bench. She never paid any notice what so ever to the signs that forbade Jews to sit on benches or enter businesses. She never incurred anything other than admiring glances from the men in their Nazi uniforms. After all, she was the picture of Aryan perfection, with her blond hair and blue eyes and beautiful face and figure. For that matter, she refused to wear a yellow star, dismissing it all as a phase that would surely pass.

After all, Max had joined the Nazi party, hadn’t he? Her family had never been particularly religious. They had, at her mother’s insistence, always celebrated Christmas and Easter, as
her
family had been Lutheran. Grandfather always said he did not even think anyone knew he had been born Jewish, so why announce it now? Her grandfather was a well- respected hero of the Great War. The things that threatened others in Berlin did not apply to her.

 Politics was not something that especially interested Ava. Max and his friends talked endlessly about what Hitler was going to do for Germany. Ava kept quiet when the talk turned to what Jews were doing to German society. When the discussion got too intense, when she was afraid she might be found out to be one of them, she always managed to change the subject or convince Max to leave.  She felt certain that no one, let alone Max, suspected her of being a Jew. Most of the time she didn’t even feel Jewish herself.

 She looked up to see Max crossing the street to join her. He looked handsome in his uniform, tall and blond and blue eyed as well. They made a strikingly beautiful couple.  Ava stood as Max reached her and went into his embrace. He kissed her and stepped back to look at her.

 “So, my beautiful Ava,” he began.

 “Oh no. I know what that means,” she said. “Every time you start a sentence with ‘so my beautiful Ava,’ something has come up. We aren’t going to dinner are we?” She had been looking forward to an hour or so alone with him.

“Dinner, yes. But after, I wanted you to come with me to the meeting.”

 For some reason she felt a sense of warning. “What meeting?” He knew she did not get involved in politics.

 “The party has called a meeting. Not a meeting really, but the Fuhrer is going to speak in the amphitheater. I want you to hear him Ava. I want you to understand.”

 “I don’t know, Max.”

 He brushed a stray curl off her face. “Please Ava. I know politics isn’t a big interest for you. But this goes beyond that. It’s about our country. Our future.”

 “Our future? I thought our future was just about us.” She tried to make a joke. Why did she feel this way? Almost…afraid.

 “Of course our future is about you and me. But our future is also about making a better Germany. Come with me, Ava. Come and listen. It all makes so much sense. You’ll see.”

 “All right. I’ll go. But only this once. I can’t see myself making a habit of attending your political rallies.”

 He took her hand in his and they began to walk toward the café where they had planned to dine. They talked of trivial things. Ava kept up with the conversation but her mind wandered too. Max was so excited about the Nazi party these days. It was almost all he ever spoke of. Her days were spent teaching young children and taking care of her elderly grandparents. When Hitler had come to power she had hardly noticed. Her free time was spent with Max and planning their future together. She seldom saw the friends she had once spent time with before falling in love with Max. Her world had shrunk to a very few people.

 They were joined by Dieter, one of Max’s closest friends and his date, Ingrid. Like Ava, Ingrid was blond and blue-eyed and lovely, but unlike Ava she was very aware of the political scene in Berlin. In fact, she was as pro Hitler as Max and Dieter. “Ava, don’t you just
love
to hear the Fuhrer speak?” she raved over dessert.

“Actually I’ve never heard him,” said Ava.

“Not ever?” Ingrid was shocked.

 “Ava isn’t interested in politics,” Max said.

 “But not to listen to such a man! Not even on the radio? Ava, if you aren’t careful, they’ll send you to Dachau!”

“Ingrid,” Dieter said sternly, “One does not speak of such things in public. And of course Ava is going nowhere such as that. Why, she typifies everything the Fuhrer embodies.”

Ava wondered what he was talking about, but said nothing as they went on to the amphitheater. She was surprised how many people had gathered. It seemed almost as if the entire city had turned out to hear Hitler speak. It was dark, but as they approached, Ava saw a huge bonfire that illuminated the space.