Paving the New Road (28 page)

It was hot by the flames, which roared up in a multistorey furnace. Periodically the Stormtroopers would let a few citizens approach the inferno to throw in books and declare their animosity to the un-German works which they cast into destruction.

“My God!” Milton said, as a misaimed book landed near their feet. “That’s Hemingway. They’re burning Hemingway!”

They started now to note the titles which littered the fringe of the fire. Among the works of notable Communists such as Trotsky
and Lenin were the works of Jews who had no connection with Communism whatsoever. Books by the renowned psychoanalyst Sigmund Freud were heaped upon the flames, and the words of the scientist Albert Einstein were also apparently dangerous to Germany.

Rowland placed a warning hand on Milton’s shoulder as the poet spied Proust among the ashes. “It’s not the only copy, Milt,” he said, worried the other would attempt a rescue of the novel.

Milton swore.

They slipped into the crowd as the Hitler Youth led the people of Munich in singing
Deutschland, Deutschland über alles
.

Some of the cordons had now been breached as the crowd disintegrated into a kind of ordered chaos. Rowland watched as a small girl with golden curls hurled books into the fire screaming “Burn Jew!” while her father laughed approvingly. The more sedate parts of the crowd were now becoming caught up in the dark euphoria, rallied into a fury against what they were being told was un-German.

He glanced at Milton. The poet seemed bewildered more than anything else.

They stood back as the crowd surged towards the stage, and used the movement to slip unnoticed in the other direction. Having abandoned their greatcoats earlier, they would have to return to the car as members of the
Leibstandarte
.

“Stop! I know you!”

21

BONFIRE OF BOOKS

Nazis Clean Up In Germany

JEWS DERIDED

BERLIN, May 10

Berlin’s greatest bonfire of books since the middle ages occurred in Opera Square at midnight. While searchlights played on the crowded square, university students led by Nazis committed 20,000 Marxist, pacifist, Jewish, and other “un German” books to the flames.

Thousands of students bearing torches escorted the condemned books.

They passed the books from hand to hand and then hurled them amid wild cheers on to the blazing pile. The flames luridly lighting the cathedral of the old Imperial Palace heightened the barbarity of the scene.

As the books were destroyed the authors’ names were announced … The wildest applause greeted the destruction of works by Remarque, author of “All Quiet on the Western Front” … As Dr. Goebbels hurled works by Karl Marx into the flames he said: “I herewith bequeath to the fire all things contrary to German culture.”

OTHER BOOK BURNINGS

Similar book burnings occurred in other German cities. In Munich 25,000 books were destroyed. The burning was preceded by a patriotic demonstration at the university, where Herr Schemm, the Bavarian Minister of Education, said that all Germans should go down on their knees and thank Almighty God that they lived in an age which so reflected the fatherland’s ever-increasing glory. The Nazi revolution, he said, would fit Germany more than ever to lead the world.

Barrier Miner, 1933

T
he words were English, and shouted from behind them.

“Keep walking,” Rowland murmured.

“Stop or I’ll scream for help!”

They stopped. Rowland turned slowly. He squinted into the press of people to see who’d discovered them.

Nancy Wake walked angrily up to him.

“I knew it,” she spat. “It’s you! I couldn’t believe it when I saw you just now in that … that uniform! But it’s you.”

“Miss Wake …”

“Don’t you Miss Wake me … pretending to be a friend of Peter’s. You’re not even Australian are you? You were just trying to get information for your superiors. You’re a spy, aren’t you? Good Lord! I’d been told the Nazis were spying on everybody … How dare you! I am a member of the free press! Were you spying on Mr. Göring too, you two-faced, despicable …” She reached up and slapped him.

Rowland blinked.

People were beginning to turn. Nancy continued to berate him. She did so in English but it was clear to the German-speaking crowd that she was immensely displeased. Rowland clutched for some way, any way, of silencing her.

He seized the journalist in his arms and kissed her on the lips, hard. For a moment she stopped shouting. Even after he’d pulled away, she gaped mutely, stunned. There were snickers in the surrounding crowd as the exchange was transformed into what appeared to be a lovers’ tiff.

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” Clyde breathed, sure that Rowland had lost his mind.

“How dare you!” Nancy was suddenly in full voice again but now people laughed. An old woman shouted, “
Wieder schmusen ihr!
” and cackled. A couple of young men cheered.

Rowland caught Nancy’s hand just as she was about to slap him again. He spoke loudly in German. “I’m sorry, darling … It won’t happen again … She meant nothing.”

It was probably fortunate that Nancy couldn’t understand him. Nor the shouts encouraging her to forgive him. Holding tightly to her hand, Rowland proceeded to pull her away with him. She began to fight.

“Miss Wake,” he said under his breath. “Would you stop before you get us all shot! I’ll explain as soon as we can get out of here.”

At first it seemed she would not desist, and then, still seething, she stopped struggling. Behind them there was laughter and even applause. It appeared that the errant Nazi officer had brought his foreign sweetheart under control. It was a testament to German manhood.

As the ceremony had not yet finished, the street in which they’d left the car was quiet. The occasional couple sat embracing in a vehicle, but they were disinterested in the uniformed men who accompanied a young woman.

Edna had not yet arrived when they reached the car. Rowland glanced at his watch. She still had a few minutes.

“Suppose you tell me what’s going on, you insufferable cad!” Nancy demanded, hitting him again, this time with her bag.

Rowland opened the door and stood out of her reach, following only after she’d climbed into the relative privacy of the automobile. He removed his cap. Now that the immediate danger had passed, Clyde and Milton were trying hard not to laugh. He introduced them as Joseph Ryan and Albert Greenway.

“We’re not spies, Miss Wake … well, not for the Nazis, anyway. We’re here trying to stop the spread of Nazism to Australia.”

“By joining them?” she accused, looking pointedly at his uniform.

Rowland looked down. “Oh, these … No, they’re just borrowed. Believe me, Miss Wake, I am spying on neither you nor Mr. Göring. I quite like the chap, for one thing.”

“Whatever you were doing, you had no right to take the liberties you did in the square!” Nancy looked like she might hit him again.

“Yes … of course, you’re right. And I apologise unreservedly.” He kept a wary eye on her hand.

Nancy was not satisfied. “What on earth did you think you were doing?”

“The only thing I could think of to prevent us from being shot.”

“Why, that’s ridiculous!”

Milton laughed. “Miss Wake’s got a right to be upset, Robbie. A book burning is hardly the most romantic venue. Dancing would have been more appropriate … or the theatre.”

Rowland’s mouth twitched upwards. It would not do to laugh at Miss Wake’s indignation. Clyde reached over and clouted Milton on Rowland’s behalf. There was nothing for it but to tell Nancy Wake what they were doing in the Königsplatz masquerading as members of the
Leibstandarte
.

She listened with progressively less belligerence and then turned to Milton. “You just walked up to him and told him to go back? Why, that’s extraordinary!”

Milton puffed. “You know, Miss Wake, I like to think that there is a tide in the affairs of men, which when taken at the flood, leads on to fortune.” He winked. “I took that flood.”

“That’s not all he took,” Rowland murmured, keeping his eyes
on the road through the back window. “Shakespeare …” He relaxed suddenly. “There’s Millie.”

He stepped quickly out of the car to meet her and bundled her into the back seat between him and Nancy.

Edna was, of course, not a little surprised by the presence of the young journalist. Rowland introduced them.

“Miss Wake recognised me in the square,” he explained. “We were forced to bring her with us.”

“You weren’t the one being forced!” Nancy corrected sharply.

“You kidnapped her?” Edna stared at Rowland. “Why, that’s not very polite.”

Rowland groaned. They were joining forces.

“And where were you, dear sister?” Milton came to Rowland’s aid. “Robbie was starting to worry … It’s not safe for women out there—all sorts of blokes taking liberties.”

“Oh yes … I’m sorry,” Edna said, heaving her large handbag onto Rowland’s lap. It landed there with a thud.

“What in heaven’s name have you got in here?” he asked.

“Did you know they were burning Hemingway … and H. G. Wells?” She opened her bag and took out a singed volume of
Farewell to Arms
. “I saved a few.” She extracted several sooty books from the handbag, murmuring, “There’s even a Proust in here.”

Milton turned and, leaning over the front seat into the back, he kissed Edna on the forehead.

Clyde was less impressed. “Are you mad? If they’d caught you …”

Edna dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “Between the smoke, and the singing and the “heiling”, nobody was paying any attention to me. I had to do something.”

Nancy was quick to agree. “When you can do something, you must,” she said vehemently.

Rowland glanced at Nancy hopefully. “So I’m forgiven?”

Edna looked up. “What did you do?”

“It would be ungallant to say.”

The journalist met his eyes. “Since it was a matter of life and death, I will excuse you this time.”

“I assure you it will never happen again,” Rowland replied soberly.

Nancy Wake smiled. “There’s no need to go quite that far, Mr. Negus.”

They drove again to a secluded lane in the industrial part of Munich where they were unlikely to be noticed by passers-by. Edna and Nancy sat on the hood of the Mercedes, chatting as the men changed out of their uniforms within.

“They smell a bit smoky,” Clyde said dubiously. “You don’t suppose that Richter might notice?”

Milton shrugged. “Even if the old man notices, he’s hardly going to imagine that they took themselves out to a book burning.”

They emerged from the car looking themselves, if a little crumpled. Nancy and Edna were laughing as they perched shivering on the warmth of the black hood.

“What’s so funny, ladies?” Milton asked.

“Nancy was just telling me what exactly happened at the Königsplatz when she came across the three of you,” Edna giggled. “Gracious, Rowly, I didn’t know you had it in you.”

Rowland started as she used his real name.

“Nancy knows what we’re doing here, Rowly,” Edna said calmly. “There’s really no point in pretending with her.” She smiled at the journalist.

Milton looked from Edna to Rowland. “You’re bloody hopeless spies, the both of you,” he said in disgust.

Rowland smiled. “Perhaps, but we did manage to stop Campbell speaking at the Königsplatz. And on that note, I think we should find somewhere to celebrate.”

Clyde glanced at his watch. “What’s going to be open at this time of night?”

“I know a place,” Nancy volunteered. “It’s a little rough, but it’s open till dawn.”

As none of them was inclined to sleep just yet, in the wake of what they had done, Nancy’s suggestion was heartily adopted and they drove to the very outskirts of Munich, to a wine bar which seemed the only sign of life and light in a grimy street.