Ashes (29 page)

After the telephone call we went to the open window and leaned on the sill, looking down. From this third-floor window, we had a good view. The scaffolding that we had watched being erected was now completely obliterated by the growing pile of books. Behind the pile of books we could see the state opera house. Perched on the triangular pediment of the opera house were three sculptures of the classical muses. They, too, looked down upon what was no longer a mere pile but at the rising mountain of books—literature and volumes of science. I wondered if its peak would reach the toes of the muses.

There was a pale pink light in the sky as the sun began to set. And from the linden trees that lined the broad avenue leading up to the square, a scent wafted toward us. I could imagine those heart-shaped leaves unfurling and trembling in the evening breeze. Everything suddenly seemed so fragile.

“Did I tell you that at Ulla's engagement party, Karl's parents gave us a signed photograph of Hitler?”

“What?”

“Yes, they're real Nazis.” My voice suddenly sounded dead and flat as I spoke. “I think he is too.”

“How can you be sure? Ulla wouldn't . . .” The words died away.

I turned to Rosa. “I'm sure. I smelled it on him.”

“What do you mean? What did you smell?”

“Ashes, smoke, chemicals, the smell of burnt paper. Karl was in the Rhineland visiting farms for part of his studies. And Ulla told me she had heard that books were confiscated from that region.”

“Ulla told you that?” I nodded. “Did she say that they burned the books or just confiscated them?”

“Just confiscated. But I smelled that scent on him when he came to dinner after his trip.”

Rosa said nothing.

“And then the other day when we were down there . . .” I nodded toward the Opernplatz. “Remember the lady with the baby in her arms who was standing next to me?”

“Sort of.”

“She said something about her son who was a member of the Student Association going to the Rhineland, and there was some sort of experimental burning—of books. It all came together for me. Karl's jacket, the smell, the fact that he had been down there too.”

“Did Ulla smell it?” Rosa asked. “What did she think?”

I sighed. “Ulla does not allow herself to think or feel anything. I think Ulla has lost all her senses.”

“Oh.” We looked at each other. It was as if in the space of a few minutes we had both grown old before each other's eyes.

The light leaked from the sky. The pink deepened to lavender and then purple. But it would be hours until the actual pyre was ignited. What did we do during that time? It was like waiting for a funeral to begin. For even though Rosa and I were the best of friends, there seemed to be an awkwardness that had never been there before. We tried to stay very quiet, as we did not want anyone to know that we were still in the office. We did not even turn on a light. Finally an acrid smell cut through the darkness that obliterated the scent of the linden trees, just as I had imagined. Petrol! They were dousing the books now with petrol. Then from a distance we saw the torchlight parade like an immense iridescent worm oozing across the city toward Opernplatz. Swelling in the night were the voices of what must have been tens of thousands of people on the square beneath us as they began to sing.

More students flooded onto the square. The mountain of books grew higher and higher. I realized I had been holding the
Homeric Odyssey
book the entire time we had been waiting. Now I clutched it closer.

“Look, there he is! On the high platform walking toward the microphones,” Rosa said.

“Who?” I asked.

“Him—Goebbels.” I had seen him before at the National Theatre, but at that time he was just another high-ranking Nazi out for a festive evening. Now I could see him at work, so to speak. Did he look like a doctor of letters, of literature? Did he look evil? I don't know. What is the face of evil? From my perch I couldn't really see his face, but I did remember it from that night at the theater, and if anything his face had been remarkable for its blandness, its anonymity. I could see his posture now as he stood on the platform, erect, and there was almost a prissiness to his gestures as he waved at the crowd. The singing wound down and he stepped up to the bank of microphones.

“German men and women! The era of extreme Jewish intellectualism is now at an end. The breakthrough of the German revolution has again cleared the way on the German path. The future German man will not just be a man of books, but a man of character. It is to this end that we want to educate you. As a young person, to have the courage to face the pitiless glare of life, to overcome the fear of death, and to regain respect for death—this is the task of this young generation. And thus you do well in this midnight hour to commit to the flames the evil spirit of the past. This is a strong, great and symbolic deed. Here the intellectual foundation of the November ‘Democratic' Republic is sinking to the ground, but from this wreckage the phoenix of a new age will triumphantly rise.”

At that very moment the first torch was thrown on the books and a claw of fire leapt into the night. There was a huge cheer.

“And now the fire oaths!” Goebbels said. Then one by one members of the German Student Association, and others as well, mounted the platform each holding a book aloft in one hand and stepping up to the microphone. Each student said the name of the author and the particular offense with which the author was charged.

“I commit to the flames the works of Heinrich Mann, Ernst Glaeser, and Erich Kästner, for crimes of decadence and moral decay. We do this to support discipline and decency in family and state.” And then the book was tossed into the fire.

“I commit to the flames the works of Erich Maria Remarque for the crime of literary betrayal of the soldiers of the Great War. We do this for the education of the nation in the spirit of standing to battle.”

The fires grew fiercer. It appeared at one point that the gowns of the three muses were actually burning! But that was, of course, impossible. They were made of stone.
Stone can't burn,
I thought. The night was torn with flames and jagged cries of triumph, and the air spun with ashes and of course there was the smell, the exact smell I had detected on Karl's jacket, the smell of burning paper. I looked up to find the stars stuttering in the night beyond the flames. Orion was rising. I tried to remember the scent of the linden trees, but the smoke was too overpowering. The heat must have been very intense, for people had backed away to the edges of the square and into the streets surrounding it.

“Gaby! Your sister!” Rosa grabbed my arm as we leaned out the open window.

“Where?”

“Down there, near the statue of the kaiser.”

I spotted her. Ulla looked dazed as she had for the last several days. Her hands were lightly clasped over her belly.

“I have to stop her!”

“Stop her from what?”

“Marrying Karl! I'll tell her. I'll tell her that I know what he did in the Rhineland.” She couldn't have known, I told myself. She simply couldn't have, or maybe she buried it so deep inside her, beneath layer upon layer of denial. I ran out the office door and tore down the four flights of steps. I could hear Rosa's feet pounding after me.

As soon as I reached the square, I felt as if I were in a boiling cauldron of insane hate. People were shouting. “Heil Hitler!” “Down with obscene Jew literature!” “Slaughter the commies!” Their faces were stretched into horrendous grimaces.

“Ulla! Ulla!” I screamed. Drafts of hot air slapped around me.

“Gaby!” She wheeled around. “What are you doing here?”

I was about to ask her the same question when Karl ran up. I stepped back. He wore the Brown Shirt and swastika of the German Student Association. “Ulla, no!” I called.

“I've got it, Ulla!” he cried out, smiling triumphantly.

She gave a cry and flung her arms around Karl's neck. I didn't understand what I was seeing.

“What? What is happening?” I asked.

“Gaby,” Karl said, turning to me, “what are you doing here?”

A fury suddenly roared up in me.

“What is
anybody
doing here?” I screamed.

“I am the captain of the third division of the Student Association.”

“You're what?” I shouted in dismay.

“You don't understand, Gaby,” Ulla said. “Karl just rescued Papa's book. It took great courage. He did it for me.” Her eyes shone with tears.

“But you must be quiet,” Karl said, and put a finger to his lips. “This is our secret. I did it only because . . .” I didn't need to hear the rest of the sentence. That was enough. The picture became very clear to me.

“You did it only because you got her pregnant. But why did you join, and become captain no less of the third division of the German Student Association? How many books did you bring to this fire, and to the other fire that I smelled on you, Karl? The fire in the Rhineland?”

“Gaby, don't say that!” Ulla looked at me desperately.

“I'll say whatever I want. I'm not a book. You can't burn me!”

I turned and walked away.

Our task must be to free ourselves by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty.

- Albert Einstein

 

 

 

 

T
he next morning when I returned to our apartment, I was surprised to see Uncle Hessie's car by the curb. I knew I could not tell my parents about what I had witnessed last night. Mama and Papa would surely know about the fires on the Opernplatz. They were still smoldering and there were pictures of the blaze on the front page of every newspaper. But I would not say I had been there.

“Ah, Gaby!” Uncle Hessie came out of the apartment building. “We were about to drive by Rosa's and pick you up.”

“You were? What for? Mama said I didn't need to be home till nine.”

“This is the weekend your mama and papa planned to go to Caputh to plant the garden and open the house for summer, right?” So it was. Today was Thursday, May eleveth, and since I no longer went to school, I suppose my parents had decided to take advantage of the good weather and leave on Thursday morning rather than Friday night. “Run upstairs, dear. Tell your parents you are here. They wanted to get on the road early.”

“Yes, sure,” I said. Then I stopped and turned around. “But Uncle Hessie—where are the pansies?”

“The pansies?” Uncle Hessie looked momentarily confused.

“The flats of pansies Mama always buys to take up to plant.”

“Oh yes, of course, the pansies. They are already in the car.”

 

 

When I walked into the apartment I heard Papa shouting. I went right into the study. Ulla was collapsed in a chair, her face blotchy from crying. Papa stood over her shaking his finger.

“This is your last chance. You come with us! We beg you. We'll take care of you and the baby.”

“I can't, Papa!” Ulla shrieked.

“Ulla, he's a Nazi!” Mama cried.

“Not forever, Mama. He says that Hitler won't last.”

“That doesn't matter!” Mama sobbed. “He is a Nazi. His family are Nazis.”

“He is the father of my child, Mama.”

Suddenly they all turned and noticed me. They stopped talking immediately.

“We're leaving, aren't we? We're leaving Berlin,” I said.

“Just to Caputh,” Mama said weakly. But it was a pathetic attempt to lie.

“No, Mama. We're leaving Germany. I know.” I turned to Ulla. “Come, Ulla. Please come with us.”

She got up and ran to embrace me. “I can't, Gaby. I can't. Please understand.”

I did understand. I understood that she didn't really love Karl. She might have thought she loved him. But she didn't. I understood that she was scared to raise the baby by herself even if Mama and Papa said they would help. There was a stigma to being an unwed mother. I knew all of this. I could feel it. I knew Ulla better than Mama or Papa. That is how it is sometimes with sisters.

No one told me I was too young to be a part of this conversation. In fact, Mama and Papa looked at me as if their lives depended on something I might say or do to change Ulla's mind. But nothing could be said.

A few minutes later the just the three of us went down the stairs. Ulla stayed in the apartment. I suppose she knew it would be too hard to say good-bye outside, on the sidewalk. I led the way. I had to hold Mama's hand because she was so shaky, and Papa was softly crying. Hessie knew immediately. There were no words needed to communicate the small tragedy that had just taken place in Papa's study. He only said, “Don't worry. I'll look after her.” He put an arm around each one of their shoulders and hugged them. “Now, get in the car, all of you.”