For Such a Time (34 page)

“Will everyone be able to go?”

Aric scanned the sea of drawn, pallid faces for the person who spoke. A thin, knobby-jointed arm shot out from one of the bunks.

“I am Leo Molski, Herr Kommandant. Friend to Morty Benjamin . . . and his maideleh.” Leo poked his gaunt face from the shadows and gave Hadassah a toothless smile. “Will all of us be able to leave Theresienstadt?”

“There isn’t enough room on the train for everyone. Just those
on the manifest.” Aric’s gaze darted to the others. “This journey will be dangerous. I can’t guarantee you won’t be captured and shot before we reach our destination. I can’t even be certain the Russians will protect you. But you must try.” He turned back to Leo Molski. “To stay here can only mean death for you.”

The room went still for several moments. Then Leo called out, “I have become . . . feeble, Herr Kommandant. I doubt I could even make such a journey.” He propped himself up on one thin elbow. “So I would give up my place on the train for another. Someone young and strong, who will live long enough . . . to enjoy freedom.”

“My place, too,” offered someone—a white-haired woman across the room whose shrunken face held dark eyes glittering with purpose. “Give mine to a child.”

Others began to murmur their agreement. Aric felt a sudden constriction against his throat as one by one the courageous held out their hands, giving up their places on the train to someone younger, stronger. Someone who would tell their story to the Russians.

He glanced at Hadassah. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. Clearing his throat, he said, “Tomorrow morning my superiors will arrive with the Red Cross. They expect to see a perfect city, filled with healthy prisoners of war. But even now, we’re torching some of the new storefronts in the ghetto to keep my soldiers occupied while we escape.”

He turned to Leo Molski. “My superiors will be gravely annoyed. Those of you who choose to stay will suffer the brunt of their disappointment.”

Leo looked to the others in the room. Each nodded at him, as if by some tacit agreement. When his gaze returned to Aric, it was bright, burning. “Then we’ll give them a disappointment they won’t forget.”

 39 

Many lay in sackcloth and ashes.

Esther 4:3

O
nce the children were included, a lottery was held for the remaining space on the train. Hundreds lined up, their steamy breath creating a fog against the frigid air. Light snow began to fall again, and with the billowing smoke rising above the streets of the Marktplatz the afternoon seemed more like dusk.

Hadassah was given a key to the Nazis’ storehouse. With the soldiers diverted, she and several others took blankets, food, clothing, and first-aid supplies before collecting all available hospital stretchers from the infirmary. Aric and her uncle stole into the armory. They retrieved armloads of submachine guns, pistols, knives, and assorted ammunition, including a kind of rocket gun, a
Panzerfaust
, which Aric explained could be used to attack enemy tanks.

The thought of having to use such extreme force gave her pause. It also underscored the real threat to them all. She could only hope Aric’s plan worked. How would they convince the guards that they were the sick bound for Auschwitz?

Her answer came when Mrs. Brenner returned from the Krematorium carrying a single box of ashes. “These must have been overlooked,” the older woman said in a quiet voice.

“I don’t think they would mind the sacrilege.”

Hadassah took the box and held it reverently. Reaching inside, she withdrew some of the ash and wiped it over her face, neck, and any other exposed skin. She thought of those who died in this place, and the many who must now stay behind to await death so that the rest of them could live. Moving from person to person, she offered each a handful of the ash, watching as they covered themselves in the only disguise that would fool the guards at the station. The souls of Jews . . .

Yaakov returned, his sooty features needing no further enhancement. Aric handed him a submachine gun and clips of ammunition. “When you depart for the train, lie on a stretcher and hide these until we board and get moving.”

He outfitted others in the same manner. As he approached Morty, her uncle said, “I should stay behind, Herr Kommandant. Give my space on the train to someone younger.”

“No!” Hadassah rushed forward.

Aric stayed her with a hand. “I believe this is yours, old man.” He withdrew from his pocket a shiny metal object—her uncle’s Grand Cross.

“Where did you find it?” Hadassah asked.

“I remembered seeing the Cross in your room this morning.” Again their eyes met as each recalled the painful moment. “I found it when I searched through the captain’s desk for my pistol and the lists. I realized it must belong to your uncle.”

He offered it to Morty. “Our plan will only succeed if we have the best fighters. I cannot think of anyone I would rather have at my side than the soldier who has earned such an honor.”

Morty straightened and accepted his Cross. “As you wish.”

Relieved, Hadassah listened as Aric instructed her uncle that he too would be carried on a litter the two kilometers’ distance to the station, with the Panzerfaust hidden among his blankets.

Finally, all seemed ready. “I must see to the fire damage,” Aric said with a grim smile at Yaakov. “And I’ll make certain
Rand, Helen, and Herr Buczak are ready to leave. Soldiers will be sent to escort all of you to the station at Bohusovice. When it’s time, I’ll join you.”

Morty stepped forward and turned to the crowd. “Once, long ago, we Jews fought for the right to live despite the wicked ploys of Haman. Now on this eve of
Purim
thousands of years later, we are again called, through this man and woman”—he gestured toward Aric and Hadassah—“to defend our claim. Let us take a moment to thank God for His generosity.”

A hush fell over the multitude as each man, woman, and child bowed their heads in prayer. Hadassah had changed into men’s clothing earlier and now hugged the Bible beneath her leather jacket. She gave thanks along with them, sending up a silent plea to God to deliver them all safely into the hands of the Russians.

Afterward, her uncle put a hand on Aric’s shoulder. “Thank you, my son.”

Aric threw an arm around Hadassah and pulled her close. “Thank my secretary.”

Soft chuckles echoed around them, easing some of the tension. Then Aric once more grew serious. “I let myself be blinded by a fool and his vision of glory.” He gazed down at Hadassah, then out at the crowd. “What I have allowed to happen . . . I can only ask your forgiveness . . .” He cleared his throat. “But I wish you to know that I am proud to be among you now, fighting for our chance at freedom.”

A soft murmur of approval rippled among those present, and many nodded in quiet understanding. Hadassah’s throat tightened as she squeezed his fingers. God had surely opened Aric’s heart. It was only by His miracle that they had come this far.

“I must check on the fires,” he said quietly.

She glanced up at him. “Shall I go with you?”

“Too many know of your arrest, my love. You must take Joseph and go to the station with the others.”

The gravity of their situation, and what they were about to
embark upon, struck her anew. It must have shown, for Aric led her to the side of the building where they had some privacy.

“If we get separated, I’ll find you,” he said fiercely.

“But what if the train leaves without you?” She clutched at the lapels of his coat while terrifying possibilities took root in her mind. She imagined him being arrested—or shot down—before he even made it to the station. “What if Captain Hermann returns . . .”

“You asked me earlier which woman I love.” His gentle voice cut through her fear. “I love
you
, Hadassah Benjamin.” He smiled. “So how could I ever let you go?”

Her eyes grew misty. “And I love you.”

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him with all the tenderness she possessed. He tightened his hold on her and deepened the kiss, and Hadassah drew comfort knowing his heart would always belong to her.

“I suppose this means we’ll have to postpone our wedding,” he said when the kiss ended. His smile was filled with regret.

“What wedding?” Hadassah dropped her hands to his chest.

He pulled back to look at her. “Ours. You and me. Have you forgotten?”

“We aren’t getting married.”

“Since when?”

Hadassah almost smiled at his thunderous expression. “Since you haven’t asked me.”

“I didn’t—”

She pressed a finger to his lips. “You demanded. Now ask me.”

He eyed her a long moment. Slowly he lowered himself onto one knee.

Hadassah tried to stop him. “Don’t . . .” she said, realizing how painful it would be.

“I’m doing it right this time,” he said sharply, discomfort evident in the taut lines of his face. “No mistakes.” He reached to take her hand. “Hadassah . . .”

“Yes,” she whispered, even as she tried to pull him up.

“I haven’t asked you yet,” he growled. Then he gave her fingers a quick squeeze.

Hadassah blushed furiously beneath her sooty makeup. They weren’t alone; her uncle, Yaakov, Mrs. Brenner, and dozens of smiling onlookers had come to the side of the building to watch Aric’s progress. “We have an audience,” she whispered.

“They can wait.” Shifting his position, he looked up at her. His expression held such love that Hadassah’s breath caught in her throat. “I admit now that I was first attracted by your show of determination that day at Dachau, and to the promise of outward beauty. Yet it was your inner light that captured my heart—your strength and willingness to sacrifice all for those you love, your sense of fairness and your compassion for others. But most of all, you never doubted the goodness in me . . . so much so that I began to see it again in myself. My darling Hadassah, I
live
because of you. Your love and your constancy have made me a man reborn.”

He bent his head and kissed her palm before he said, “I cannot tell you what our future holds, only that I want to share it with you. Please be my wife.”

For several seconds, Hadassah was too overcome to speak. Finally she managed a soft “yes,” after which the spectators began to cheer and applaud. Yaakov and Morty approached to help Aric to his feet, all the while pounding his back in congratulations.

Mrs. Brenner gave Hadassah a hug. “God bless you,” she said, teary-eyed. “I wish you both a long and happy life.”

Hadassah squeezed her back. “For us all,” she said.

“All right, everyone,” Morty said as he began herding the masses away from the couple. “We have much work to do and little time.” When he looked to her, Hadassah swore she saw tears in her uncle’s eyes. “Shalom,” he called to them, before turning to leave with the crowd.

“I need to go, as well,” Aric said, though he made no move to leave. Hadassah rushed into his arms and held him tight.

“Don’t leave me,” she whispered against his chest.

He gently pried her arms from around his waist. “You and Joseph board the first car. I’ll join you there.” He tipped her chin up so as to look her in the eyes. “I promise.”

“Have you ever broken a promise?” She didn’t care that she sounded desperate.

He only smiled and said, “Hold on to these.” He withdrew four signal flares and a flare pistol from the pockets of his coat. “Once we arrive near Prerov, I’ll need them to signal Herr Buczak to switch the track.”

Hadassah nodded and took the flares. He gave her another quick kiss, one that left her afraid as he departed for the ghetto’s square, now ablaze with fire.

There was so much danger ahead that could jeopardize their happiness.

Hadassah said a prayer for their future.

 40 

Then let the girl who pleases the king be queen. . . .

Esther 2:4

S
heathed in tumid clouds, the sun spread milky rays across miles of whiteness.

Aric stood at his bedroom window and watched the headlights of his Mercedes toss a faint beam against the snow. Rand was leaving for Prerov with Helen and Lenny Buczak. He’d given his friend official orders and explicit instructions. He could only hope that, for all their sakes, the party would make it to the rendezvous point.

As the car disappeared into the east, Aric turned to stare toward Prague. He’d have liked a meeting with Hermann before the train left, face-to-face on equal ground. Aric would enjoy making him suffer—not only for Joseph’s battered face but for Hadassah’s bruises, as well.

Yet as much as he ached for a chance to retaliate, there wasn’t time. He must leave it to God to exact His own vengeance.

Aric walked to his armoire and opened a drawer that held the clips for his Browning. After retrieving the ammunition, he glanced at the extra bottle of morphine tablets. Then he slammed the drawer shut and left the room.

Downstairs, he stopped at Joseph’s room to check that Martin and Zeissen, as well as young Corporal Sonntag, were still securely bound and gagged. After finding they were, he went to the living room to survey one last time the possessions he would never see again.

His eyes came to settle on the painting of his childhood home. The country castle looked peaceful and content against the backdrop of snowcapped Alps.

He could never return; he would soon be marked a deserter—if he managed to stay alive. Yet it was such a small price to pay for his transformation to become human again.

Aric had been at Theresienstadt only two months, yet he agonized over the part he’d taken in sending Hadassah’s people to Auschwitz. Nothing in this world could ever erase his actions; he only hoped that, in time, God would offer him absolution for his soul.

He closed his eyes, and unexpected warmth, like the sun’s rays, touched his face. He envisioned his boyhood summers, the melting Alpine snow washing crystal water down from the mountains like a ribbon across the green valley. He could even smell the sweet tang of meadow grass and feel its softness beneath his bare feet. He saw then the face of his beloved, how Austria shone clear and pure in her blue eyes.
Thank you, Lord . . .

The Warmth seeped into his heart, filling the last breaches of pain.