Wildflowers of Terezin (39 page)

The weight of her words hung heavy between them. But still he had to know.

"I understand the why, Hanne. But how? How did they get everyone to smile and just go along with it?"

"Don't you see? If anyone doesn't do just as they're told, they know they'll be the next ones transported to the death camps. The Nazis have already transported several thousands, we think to make it look less crowded here. We've heard rumors, Steffen. Are they true?"

Steffen bit his lip, not sure what to say. He'd heard the same rumors. But who could say? Most sounded far too incredible to believe.

"I don't know. But enough of the camp. I don't care about the camp. I care about you. What about you?"

She turned away. He noticed her cheeks looked sunken, and so much thinner. And she had been slender to begin with, back home in Danmark.

"I'm fine. They treat us Danes a bit differently than they do the Czechs or the Germans and the Poles, you know. Perhaps it's because of the pressure from home. From people like you.Oh, Steffen, there's so much I need to tell you, but—"

"Petersen!" Herr Madsen's voice floated down the hallway and around the corner. Fortunately he would not be able to see them unless he ventured closer. Steffen held a hand over his own mouth, hoping it might sound like he was answering from behind the washroom door.

"In a minute!" he called back.

"We're on a schedule, you know," Herr Madsen answered back. "Let's hurry!"

"Be right there."

But the last thing Steffen wanted to do was release Hanne from his grip, and Hanne wasn't letting go, either.

"I don't know how you talked your way into this camp, Steffen Petersen, but—"

She gave him another hug, but now he had to find his way back.

"Listen to me," he told her, gripping her thin shoulders. He could feel her shoulder blades. "I'll do everything I can to get back here, again. And meanwhile we'll send more packages.What do you need most, more medicine? Food?"

"Of course." She smiled at him. "The problem is, will it get past the gendarmes? They go through everything, you know."

"The packages we've sent?"

She nodded. "Everything. They skim off what they like."

"Then I'll just have to bring it personally."

He wanted to say so much more, but now he tore himself away from the exquisite torture—hearing her voice, feeling her close—but only for a few short moments! Perhaps he shouldn't have come.

"You must go now," she told him. "They're probably wondering what happened to me, as well."

He stroked a lock of her hair with his hand and slipped quietly to the corner, just to make sure no one was watching him come out from where he should have been. Then he turned back and kissed her softly on the lips.

"I pray for you every day, Hanne Abrahamsen."

He glanced at her one more time, and she let her fingertips touch his before he slipped back around the corner. And as quickly as he could he slipped straight into the washroom for a moment, not even bothering to find a light. He simply leaned back against the door in the darkness, his head spinning, catching his breath in wild gasps.

And then someone pounded on the door once more.

"Petersen! For goodness sake, are you sick in there or something?"

Steffen wasted no more time, just pulled open the door and stepped back out into the hallway with a sheepish smile, hopefully not overdone.

"So sorry, Herr Madsen." He straightened out his shirt and tie for good measure. "I didn't mean to hold you up. I'm feeling fine. Really."

"All right, good." Herr Madsen looked him over as if trying to decide whether to believe him or not. "Let's get back on the tour, then. The obersturmführer is getting quite nervous, and there's much more on his schedule."

NORTHERN CZECHOSLOVAKIA

SATURDAY, 24 JUNI 1944

I remember my affliction and my wandering, / the bitterness and

the gall . . . / Yet this I call to mind / and therefore I have hope: /

Because of the LORD's great love we are not consumed.

—LAMENTATIONS 3:19, 21-22 NIV

S
teffen had not expected the dark cloud of his depression to descend so quickly and heavily, even before they'd left the Bogosovice station on their way back north, back home.As Herr Madsen resumed his work in the seat beside him, Steffen could not possibly pull his thoughts together.

"I said, number of beds in the dispensary?" Herr Madsen paused from his writing and looked over expectantly at Steffen. In a delayed reaction, Steffen shuffled through his own hastily scrawled notes.

"Oh, yes. I'm sorry. I wrote it down here somewhere."

Steffen finally found the figures, but Herr Madsen wrinkled his brow and frowned as he wrote.

"What's your opinion of what we saw? Quite impressive, don't you think? I was pleasantly surprised."

"Pardon?" Steffen wasn't sure if he meant the dispensary, or Theresienstadt in general.

"I mean, for example, the dispensary seemed to have all the latest equipment and very clean conditions. Honestly, I had been expecting far worse, but I thought it all rather impressive, don't you think?"

Steffen paused before he responded. How could he pass along what he knew without endangering the source?

"Pardon, but did we actually see any of the equipment in use?"

"What are you saying? That we should have waited there and observed patients being treated? You know we didn't have time for that. Besides, that would have served no purpose."

"Yes, I know. It's just that everything there may have been set up to impress us, yet it might not have actually been used there. It might be gone even now, for all we know."

Again Herr Madsen wrinkled his brow.

"Gone? Why would someone go to such lengths? As far as I could tell, everything in all the other areas of the city was of adequate quality and in good repair, as well. The schools.The recreational facilities. The café and the dining areas.The performing arts center. The library. Even the central park. Did you notice all the flowers?"

"I heard the park had been barricaded until just hours before our arrival. Off limits to all residents."

"Who told you that?"

"Just . . . chatting with people along the way. One hears things."

"I'm sorry, but that sounds rather conspiratorial. I'm much more willing to take things at their face value."

Herr Madsen returned to his report, which would apparently include glowing praise for the situation and administration of Theresienstadt. Steffen wondered how he could bring light to the lies.

"Please, Herr Madsen. Just think about it for a moment.The kommandant had us on such a tight schedule, and on such a carefully planned route. We weren't allowed to go out on our own. What if things were different in the rest of the camp?

"I wouldn't call it a camp, Steffen. Besides, we could have been days exploring every last corner of the city, and for what purpose? I believe we saw a reasonable cross section."

"I believe we were shown a façade. A false front. I don't think that conditions beyond our view were anything like what we were led to believe they were. I suspect that as soon as we left, those nice facilities were all taken away."

"Steffen, please. You're making strong accusations here that cannot be backed up with fact. This is wild speculation only. I would expect a much more levelheaded assessment from you."

"Perhaps, but don't you think we could include some of those . . . reservations in your report? At least we could raise the questions."

"I'll do nothing of the sort. All I can report on is what I observed. And all that I observed was encouraging. I cannot go spreading rumors based on things you may or may not have heard from someone on the street. Can't you see how irresponsible that would be? Unethical, even."

"Wait, wait." Steffen raised his hand as he felt his own temperature rising. "I think if we're going to be talking about unethical and irresponsible, the only unethical or irresponsible course of action right now would be to allow ourselves to be used by the Nazis, and not to report on the whole truth.That's unethical and irresponsible."

By this time Herr Madsen studied Steffen through narrowed eyes. When he finally spoke his words sounded guarded and measured, doled out for maximum effect.

"Listen, Steffen. I'm sorry if you feel I'm missing something.But you begged me to be able to come along on this inspection.You said you wanted to see things for yourself, and we accommodated you to that end. Now you were able to see for yourself, and I'm just a bit puzzled at your reaction."

"No, let me explain. I—"

Herr Madsen held up a hand to cut him off.

"I believe you have explained yourself adequately and well, and you know I have valued your opinion. Frankly, however, I'm not sure what else you can expect, because there's really very little else you can do to change this situation, one way or the other. Unfortunately these people will remain in Theresienstadt, but now we've seen the conditions, and they are apparently adequate. This is what I will detail in my report."

"And you won't even—"

This time Herr Madsen silenced the objection just by lifting his eyebrow, and he went on.

"If you feel you've accomplished your goal and you'd like to focus all of your efforts once again on your work at the
kirke,
I would fully understand. Or if you'd like to continue helping with efforts to send supplemental medical and food supplies into Theresienstadt, you're more than welcome to do that, as well. The German authorities have pledged their continued cooperation in that regard. Although quite frankly, after seeing the place for myself today, I'm much less apprehensive about the condition of our people or the critical need to send them these things."

Steffen nodded. Herr Madsen just didn't understand, and it did not appear that he would entertain any further objections.What else could Steffen do to convince the outside world something was not right in Theresienstadt?

"I'd like to continue volunteering, if I may." Steffen wasn't sure if Herr Madsen would hear the whispered words, but apparently he did.

"Good. Then I assume your representation of what we saw and experienced today will align closely with mine. It would be most confusing to our public if they received mixed messages.Do we agree?"

"I understand." Steffen understood that Herr Madsen did not want to embarrass himself or lose footing with German officials. After all, he depended on those same officials for the goodwill necessary to conduct inspections such as the one today. He had much to lose.

But then again, so did Steffen.

After the Red Cross visit Hanne stood at the door of the dispensary, watching transport after transport rumble by on the main street, rattling the windows. She choked on the exhaust fumes but willed herself not to back away. A young man caught her eye from the rear of the fifth or sixth truck, and he still wore the bandage she had wrapped on his elbow last week after a minor work accident. She caught her breath and waved.

"Jakub!" She couldn't help calling out his name, and for a brief moment their eyes met. He raised his hand in a sad goodbye, with the awful look of one who knew he was being taken to a place from which he would never return. What was he, barely fifteen years old?

"So many," she whispered, and she made no attempt to stop the tears now running down her face.

If only she could turn away from this death parade. And she would have, except that she knew she must stand as a witness. Who else would do it? No one else walked the streets and no one even dared peer out from nearby windows—as if looking at these poor souls might bring misfortune.

So by default Hanne stood like a soldier, her stomach churning at the sight of each truck in the long line. And she hated the fact that she recognized so many, like Jakub or his aunt and uncle, who had worked with him in the gardens just outside the city walls, pulling weeds, hauling manure, and tending vegetable starts for twelve hours a day.