The Voyage (28 page)

Chapte
r
102

FEBRUARY 4, 2009

FORT LAUDERDALE, FLORIDA

THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.

CAFÉ EUROPA, THE SURVIVORS’ LUNCHEON

The roar of the crowd finally died down as Anna Mittleman walked slowly up the stairs to the stage. Even though she was well past her prime, true to her nature, she still looked elegant.

“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen,” Anna said. “It is truly an honor for me to be here, and I know if Alex were still alive he would feel the same way.  I lost my dear husband a little over two years ago to cancer. Our lives were not always easy, but they were always filled with love. Alex was not only my husband, but also my best friend.  He survived Dachau, D-day and combat, but I lost him to a small tumor that formed on his pancreas. A day does not go by that I do not think of him and as those of you who have lost a spouse will understand, I find myself talking to him as I go about my daily routine. As most of you know, my husband and I co-authored the book, “A Life with Purpose,” a memoir of our voyage on the ill-fated
MS St. Louis
.  We dedicated this book to Manny. If you have read it you will understand. Without Manny’s sacrifice, there is a very good chance that neither Alex nor I would have survived. Until his death, my husband and I searched for Manny, but we never found him, nor were we able to find any information about what happened to him. However, for reasons of his own Alex kept procrastinating on publishing this book. It was on his deathbed that he finally said to me, “When I am gone, Anna, take the book to a publisher and release it to the world.” I can remember sitting at his bedside and crying because I knew that soon he would be leaving me, and the next time we would meet, it would be on the other side. On the day that I was notified that the book had become available at bookstores I remembered the last day of Alex’s live.  He refused to die in a hospital room, so I brought him home.  It was early on a winter morning and a cold front had just come through. Alex lay in bed. I lay beside him and we were watching the sunrise. “Are you cold? Should I get some more blankets or turn the heat higher?” I asked him.  He shook his head, smiled, and squeezed my hand; then he said, “Well… I think it’s time for me to go.” I sat up and looked at him and he winked at me. “I’ll see you on other side. Don’t forget. Publish the book, for me, for yourself…and for Manny.” I was stunned. Even though I knew he was dying for a long time, when the time finally arrived it felt like a knife in my heart. “Alex…” was all I could say. Then he smiled at me and said, “Don’t be afraid, Anna. This book is our reason for living. It was our purpose for being on earth. We must be sure to let the world know what happened so that it never happens to our people again. Publish it.” He kissed my hand. “Anna, my Anna…” he said, and then he was gone. 

  With all of the Holocaust survivors growing older, I feel that it is very important that we educate the young people, both Jewish and Gentile, about the Holocaust. We must tell them what happened. We must tell them over and over to be sure that they never forget.

As a special gift to each of you, I will be offering signed copies at no charge to survivors. Alex would have wanted each of you...”

The light at the front of the room began to blink, interrupting Anna’s speech. A man at one of the tables with a big sign that said “Germany” stood up.

“Anna Mittleman?” he called out.

“Do I know you?” she asked, squinting to see him in the semi-darkness. From where she stood, he didn’t look old enough to be a survivor unless he was a baby during the war.

“My name is Sepp Hahn. We have never met. I have come a long way to be here today, to see you, Anna, and to speak before this audience. I wish Alex were here as well, because I believe he would want to hear what I am about to say.”

Anna cocked her head. What was this all about? Was this someone who knew Alex?

   “So if you would like some answers to your questions in “A Life with Purpose,” if you want to know what happened to the people left on the ship that could not get into Cuba, I can tell you what happened I know the answers. I also know became of Elke and Manny after you and Alex left the ship.”

Anna studied him. He looked familiar, but she was sure she had never met anyone by the name of Sepp Hahn. Who was he and what did he know of Elke and Manny? Was he just a fan, a reader who had become obsessed with the characters in “A Life with Purpose?” Or was he somehow connected to all of this?  It would probably be best to meet with him in private. After all, he could be anyone, even the son of a former Nazi. That would be upsetting to the audience of survivors. However, it was hard to say whether Mr. Hahn would be willing to meet later, and she and Alex had spent years trying to find their friends, coming up empty handed every time. This man who stood before her claimed that he knew the answers. She could not let him leave without hearing him out; she must allow him to speak.   “Yes, please, tell me,” she said. “I would very much like to know…everything.”

Chapter 103

The
MS St. Louis
, May 30, 1939

Elke kissed Anna and Alex goodbye. Manny waited in his stateroom, he’d asked Elke to come for him after they’d left the ship.  She knocked on his door softly. ”They just got off…” she said.

Manny did not answer right away. “Thank you for letting me know,” he said.

“Would you like to have a drink perhaps?”

“Sure, why not?”

As Elke and Manny sat on the deck, glasses in hand, Anna and Alex had just been cleared to go into the country. From their spot on deck where they sat they could see Alex carrying Anna’s suitcase as the young couple left the
MS St. Louis
behind them on their way to freedom, a freedom Elke and Manny believed that they would never know.

Manny smiled a cynical smile and patted Elke’s hand.

“Well, kid, we had fun anyway, didn’t we?  All the plans we made about this dream of freedom in America,” he said with a wry smile.

“Always the optimist,” she said, smiling.

“Yes, I suppose I am. What good does it do to cry?”

“You really loved her?”

“I did and I do,” he said.

“Enough to sacrifice your own life for her happiness…”

“What is life without love?” he said.

For a few minutes they sat in silence, staring out over the water.

“What do you think will become of us? Do you think we will go back to Germany?” Elke asked.

“Who knows? Maybe the negotiations will turn in our favor and we will be allowed off the ship. It’s possible, right?’

“Of course it is. Of course,” she said, wringing her hands together. “Manny, I am glad that we had that afternoon together. You know, when we... It was very special for me.”

“I am glad too. You are a wonderful, beautiful woman, Elke. And I will probably someday regret not having run away with you when we had the chance.”

“Yes. Thank you for the kind words, Manny. But, I’m tired. I am going to lie down for a while.”

“Good idea. “ He smiled.

“I’ll see you later tonight at dinner.”

Manny entered the room he’d shared with Alex. He looked at the blanket on Alex’s bed. Walking over he ran his hand along the coarse wool.
I am a fool,
a
n idealistic fool.  Ah, well, so what? He loved her, and she loved him. What of it? I did the only thing that I could do. I gave them freedom to live and to love.

Sitting down on his bed, Manny considered the future. Alone, he was not nearly as optimistic as he appeared to others. He was smart enough to know what was in store, and he knew he could not bear it. But Manny’s optimism came from a lifetime of living with wealthy parents who bailed him out of every mess he ever got into. And secretly he believed that somehow his family money and influence would save him again. He didn’t believe that he would ever see the camps because if things really got out of hand he would be forced to write to his father and beg for money and forgiveness for squandering the funds he’d already received. Manny hated to do that. He knew that his father thought of him as a burden. He called Manny his son without ambition or responsibility, a reckless ne’er-do-well, who would never succeed at anything. So before he would contact his father, Manny decided to try another means. He began to write a wire to his cousin in France.

Joseph,

I have run out of money. It’s a long story, I’ll explain the next time I see you.  But this is a desperate situation here on the
St. Louis
and I need you to send me cash as quickly as possible so that I can pay my way out of Germany. We passengers on the
MS St. Louis
have been denied entrance into Cuba and from the way things appear, we will be sent back to Germany. I cannot write to my father; he would complain. You know how he can rant and rave. He’d say that I should have used the money he gave me to buy my freedom. But you see, something happened to the money while I was on board. It’s far too complicated to explain in a letter. However, if you wire me the cash I will repay you as soon as I arrive in the States. Once I see my father in person, I will explain everything and he will repay pay my debt. Please help me, Joseph. I am depending on you.

Manny

Manny left the note on the table beside the bed. He’d take it upstairs and send it in the morning. A flask of whiskey lay hidden in the bottom of his suitcase; Manny brought it out and took a swig, and then another. The more he drank the more he regretted his decision. What was he thinking? Of course, he wanted to be noble, to do the right thing, to behave like one of the heroes he admired in books and films. But deep inside Manny knew he was no hero, in fact he was a coward. He had proved that to himself once long ago. An incident that made him ashamed… An event that he’d buried but could never forget.  And, now…now it could be possible that he might pay for his rash behavior with his life. Why did he always act first and then think things through afterwards?  This was not the first time he’d made an error that had cost him. He’d lost count of how many times. However, if his family did not come through, this one might cost him more dearly than he’d realized when he had made the gesture. Could that happen? Was it possible? Could Manny get caught up in a web with no way out? He took another swig of whiskey and glanced over at Alex’s bed. Manny liked Alex, but it was more that he wanted to show Anna how decent a man he was. It felt crucial to his self-worth that she see him as a hero. But now that she had left the ship, her importance in his mind had diminished. Anna was just a woman, and there were millions of women. If he’d gotten off the ship in Cuba, he’d have forgotten her in time and even eventually erased the connection she sparked to that terrible secret memory of what he had done. But when he went to the captain and paid for the freedom of the two lovers, he’d seen himself like the hero in “A Tale Of Two Cities.” It had all been so romantic, so dramatic. For a moment Manny was not the weak, spoiled rich boy who ran from danger; he was the knight who rode in on a white steed to save the damsel in distress. It had felt so good to see himself that way. However, now, with the glory and romance gone, he wasn’t sure he had ever loved Anna. He loved the idea of being desperately, hopelessly in love, and of courting the woman he loved in a way that Alex could not. But most of all, she reminded him of Libe, the girl who haunted him. The girl whose shame he hid deep inside of his heart. Manny had never actually admitted it to himself before, but he always knew it: Anna and Libe could have been sisters. Their eyes, their smiles, the bone structure of their faces… That face, that face… Those eyes, Libe’s eyes… He saw those eyes in his mind…pleading with him. Raising the flask, he toasted aloud, “To Libe… To Anna… To guilt… And to the man I am not and never will be because of my own fucking weakness.” Then he gulped down another swig of whisky and got dressed for dinner.  Manny hated himself, but he wasn’t ready to die, not now, not yet.  Well, if his cousin didn’t come through, his father would.  In the end they would bail him out; they always did.

No music played in the dining room that night. Where the band had once been an empty space now stood.  Manny drank incessantly, until he lost comprehension; then he began to tell Elke how he felt.

“I think I made a mistake, giving them all my money. I could have been off this godforsaken ship. Ah, shit… Well, anyway, it doesn’t matter. My family will get me out of this mess. They’d better get me out,” he said, smiling as he took another gulp of straight whiskey.

“Maybe you have had enough to drink, Manny,” Elke said. “Let’s go up on the deck and get some air.”

“Yes, if you would like…”

They walked on the deck.  A warm tropical breeze danced through Elke’s golden hair.

“You know, you’re much prettier than Anna. But there was just something about her.”

Elke didn’t answer. Manny was stumbling on the deck.

“Let’s sit down,” Elke said, taking his arm and leading him to a chair.

Out of nowhere Manny began laughing, laughing so hard that tears fell on his cheeks, and then suddenly he was weeping, choking with out-of-control sobbing.

Elke reached up and touched his head.

“Manny? Manny?” She didn’t know what to say, so she tried to hold him close to her to ease the pain inside of him.

Manny pushed away. “I don’t deserve to be comforted. Do you want to know a secret, something I have never told anyone before? I’ll bet when I am finished you won’t think I am so wonderful anymore.” His head was bobbing up and down like a marionette.

“You don’t have to tell me. Perhaps you should go to bed. You’re tired and you’ve had a lot to drink.”

“No, I want to tell you. I want to finally tell someone what I did. The world should know that Manny is not the man he pretends to be.”

She looked away from him. His nose was running, tears stained his face, and he looked as if he’d been struck with insanity. Elke glanced out over the ocean, the water black under the night sky, the land barely visible.

Then Manny began to speak, slowly at first...

“On the night of
Kristallnacht
, I was out painting the town. Oh, yes, I did that quite often. You see nobody knew what was coming. I had this girl with me; her name was Lieb. We grew up together, but she was always the reserved one. That night I wanted to show her some action, so I took her out of the Jewish section to a nightclub in downtown Berlin. A wild place, filled with decadence and excitement. I liked it. I went there pretty often. I talked her into having a few drinks, and we danced. I’d been trying to convince her to spend the night with me for years. But on this night, although it took a lot of convincing and quite a bit of liquor, she finally agreed. As we were walking back toward my apartment we saw a terrible sight in the distance. Flames filled the sky, coming from the Jewish Temple… I could hear the noise and chaos: people shouting, glass breaking, but I thought it was all due to the blaze. I looked over at Lieb. ‘The synagogue is on fire. Hurry, maybe we can help.’ I said. And so we both ran headlong right into the claws of the Nazi persecutors. Once we saw what was happening, it was too late; we were too close.  Angry German boys ran down the streets smashing windows with clubs. I saw people being torn out of their homes and thrust onto the street, then kicked and beaten, and sometimes killed. It was a bloodbath.”

“Come on, run...’ I said to Lieb. ‘We’ve to get out of here fast. But she couldn’t run, you see. She was wearing high heels. I grabbed her arm and tried to pull her along, but Lieb kept tripping on her shoes. ‘Take them off,” I said. Hurry, get rid of those damned shoes now.’ She had to stop to undo the buckles in order to get them off. ‘The streets are filled with broken glass. I’ll cut my feet to shreds.’ She hesitated, looking at the glass. ‘I don’t know what to do,’ she said. The angry mob surrounded us on all sides, closing in quickly, like predators coming in for the kill. I wanted to stop, to help her, to wait for her, I really did, but my feet wouldn’t let me. My feet wanted to fly, to escape. I ran, like the coward that I am. I ran as fast as I could and I left Lieb behind. I heard her scream. I turned around and I saw two hefty boys grab her and throw her on the ground. She was screaming for me, ‘Manny! Manny, help me!’ But you know what I did? I kept running, Elke. I kept on running.” Manny was choking on his words. “Only once more did I stop for a brief second to look back. She saw me stop, and I still remember the hope and desperation in her eyes, those eyes that still haunt me… She thought I was going to come back and help her. She called out my name. It was all a matter of seconds. Then I saw the boy raise a club, and Lieb let out a blood-curdling scream. The club came down, and her screaming stopped, but I still heard it in my mind. ’Manny, help me! Manny!” I gagged and vomit spilled out of my mouth as I ran past a pool of blood filled with blood-drenched human tissue. Then, as I raced by, I caught the stinking odor of the spoiled garbage of the fishmonger. I slipped into the alleyway behind Avram’s fish store. Everyone in the neighborhood knew that the smell of the rotting fish was unbearable. It wafted out on to the street just enough to discourage anyone from venturing too close to the discarded refuse. I hid under the back stairs right by the garbage can. Heads of fish with black and accusing eyes glared at me under the streetlight. I hoped the attackers would avoid searching this area because the odor was so foul. And I was right; it was the stench of that garbage that saved my life. They ran past the storefront cursing the odor. I heard the glass window next door shatter, and the animal cries of the mob. My heart pounded. I thought of Lieb, but I didn’t’ have the guts to go back and help her, not even to see if she was alive. I am a coward, Elke. I am nothing but a coward. All I could think of was my own safety, my own life. The following morning, I found out that Lieb had died, all alone on the street that night. It was my fault, all my fault…” 

An old man with hair as silver as the moon and skin that matched his hair walked slowly by them. He turned to Elke and Manny, his eyes rheumy and yellowed; he spoke like the voice of doom.

“We’ll never leave this ship safely. We are all going back to Germany, to Hitler, to die...just the way Hitler always wanted it to be… He tricked us; he gave us hope.”

“Shut up, you old bastard,” Manny said.

“Manny, he’s just an old man,” Elke said.

“You mark my words; you’ll both see what happens. You’ll see that I am right.” The old man pointed his index finger at Manny.