The Diplomat’s Daughter Page 18

  “Of course I know,” said Leo, leaning against the cold metal wall of the Ferris wheel compartment. He thought about an article he had seen that morning about the further implementation of Aryanization laws in Germany. If the Hartmanns were there rather than in Vienna, their factory would not be in their hands anymore and his father would have been dismissed from his job at the bank. Generations of work would have been sold to a non-Jew for a song. “I know, but Hitler isn’t in Austria. Our government still wants to keep him out. So I’m focused on that. And more importantly, I’m focused on you.”

  “I need to be more like you,” said Emi, her face still contorted with worry.

  “No,” said Leo, moving to her side of the bench, even though it made their little compartment unbalanced. “You need to be you. What I care about is you. What allows me to smile as some fat brute kicks me and the teacher laughs away is you. As long as I have you, everything will be fine.”

  Emi threw her arms around Leo, kissing his face, his neck, until the Ferris wheel had come back down and she had to scoot quickly to the other side of the bench. Leo fixed his collar and paid the attendant to let them ride again. “This is what’s important,” he said and kissed Emi without stopping for two more rides up and down over Vienna. That was the day that Leo and Emi finally said the word. Love. And once it was said, it was repeated during every quiet moment, between every kiss.

  Emi had told Leo that she needed him more than he needed her when they met in 1937 and she was brand-new to the school, but things took a turn in 1938 when one word started dominating every conversation: Anschluss. Nazi Germany’s annexing of Austria. At the start of the new year, the Hartmanns and many other Jewish families were still confident that the young chancellor Kurt Schuschnigg, who was a fascist but was still pro-Austria, could preserve the country’s independence, despite the mounting power of Adolf Hitler and his determination to unify Austria and Germany. But everything changed on the twelfth of March when the Nazis plowed through the Austrian border. The fate of the country was sealed when Hitler drove through Vienna two days later.

  Leo and Emi, like all the Austrian children their age, were at school the following day when they heard the tumult in the street. They ran to the windows and listened to the mayhem of raised voices, followed by elated shouts and screams. Then they saw the rush of people. Hitler, they were told by their teachers, would be addressing the people at the Heldenplatz, one of the city’s main squares, in a few hours. It was within walking distance of their school.

  Granted an early dismissal, the students started running toward the square, including Leo, with Emi reluctantly in tow.

  “What are you doing?” she said as they ran through the crowds of people. Almost all of them were holding small red and black flags, the swastika emblazoned brightly in the center. “We can’t go to the square. You can’t go there. Hitler’s going to speak! It’s not safe!”

  “They’re all going,” he said pointing to the students from their school.

  “They’re not Jewish!” she shouted back. “Some of them are in the Hitlerjugend. Look at their armbands! And the flags,” she said, swastikas waving all around them. “They’re salivating for this moment. We should be hiding, not running toward loaded guns.”

  Leo looked out at the street they were on and noticed that in most of the shop windows, huge swastika flags hung. They were also draped across government buildings, and hanging from lightposts. The image of Nazi Germany was everywhere.

  In the days leading up to the Anschluss, the bullying that Leo endured crescendoed and nearly broke him. It wasn’t just Fritzie Dorn and the chemistry teacher, it was every child in school. His clothes were stolen in gym class, and if it weren’t for his habit of carrying so many uniforms, he would have been stuck in the changing room naked. Even some of the younger girls were spitting near his feet and then smiling at their bravery. They didn’t dare spit right on him, but as Austria changed, so did their proximity to his face. They were clearly feeling more and more confident that they should be targeting the school’s only Jew.

  “I need to see it,” said Leo, pushing past a group of laughing children. “I’m not just running away from this like a coward.”

  He felt Emi pull her hand away from his. He looked at her as she stopped in the middle of the street, which had been closed to cars that morning after Hitler drove through. “I wish you would act like a coward instead of an idiot. We shouldn’t be here and you know it,” she said. “Your parents are going to worry about you until they’re sick. They will hear what’s happening and how close we are at school.”

  “I haven’t run from my aggressors yet,” said Leo, looking down at his hands, which were marked with dozens of little cuts. “I don’t want to start today. Come. We’ll be all right.” He took her hand again and pulled her into the crowd.

  They could see in the distance, a hundred yards away, a podium set up for Hitler on the balcony of the ornate Hofburg Palace, with rows of Nazi flags hanging crisply below it. Emi tried to drag Leo back toward city hall, but so many people had pushed into the square that it was almost impossible to move. There were men climbing everything that was climbable, all clambering for a view of the Führer. Just ahead of the crowd were tight rows of German soldiers, all identical with the ropes around their chests and their black helmets. Beyond them, Leo and Emi could hear a band playing, and the troops were pacing back and forth, walking with their legs straight, in perfect time to the songs. Leo felt Emi reach out for him as the crowd jostled them even more and the clanging of cymbals got louder. As the metal crashed, the crowd started screaming “Sieg Heil!” and reaching out their arms in front of them in the Nazi salute. Leo put his lips to Emi’s ear and was about to tell her not to worry, when he was drowned out by an even louder chant of “We want to hear our Führer,” and the noise of German bombers flying in formation above them.

  Leo looked at the enraptured faces, fanatical with excitement. Maybe they weren’t as safe as he thought, but it was a nightmare he couldn’t turn away from. He had to see these people—the ones who had worked in his father’s factory, who had benefited from his family’s charity—shed tears of joy over Hitler. He took Emi tightly by the hand and whispered, “No one is going to think I’m a Jew if I’m with you.” They walked through the crowd, past a large group of men, being careful not to push them, and watched as boys their age tried to climb on the statue of Prinz Eugen of Savoy to get a better view.

  Leo eased up as Emi reached for his shoulders. “You don’t know that,” she said quietly. “I am not your guaranteed savior just because I’m obviously not Jewish. People know who your father is. They might recognize you. Let’s not get any closer,” said Emi, stopping by the statue, which was already surrounded.

  Leo held Emi tight as he watched the faces of the people around them. He was trying to stay still, though he wanted to get as close to Hitler’s podium as he could. Old and young, male and female, everyone around him was rejoicing. Did they know what it meant to be German? Leo wondered. Did all these people, his countrymen, really support the Führer so blindly?

  He started to whisper as much to Emi when he felt her pinch him.

  “They’re looking at us,” she whispered, glancing very carefully over to a group of men to their right. Leo noticed that though they were wearing what was probably their best winter clothing, it was dirty and worn. Suddenly he felt very conspicuous in his cashmere coat. He unbuttoned it to show his Catholic school uniform and Emi quickly did the same.

  Leo turned his head to the side, with a happy smile on his face, and looked at the men, once his clothes were exposed.

  The oldest of the men, his gray hair uncovered, reached over and handed Leo one of the flags he was holding. “Sieg Heil!” he screamed out, his arm stretched in front of him.

  Leo took the flag, looked at it, and out of instinct dropped it on the ground, grabbed Emi, and pushed through the people as fast as he could until they were a safe distance away.

  “
Leo! What are you doing!” she screamed, ripping her hand out of his. “You’re going to get yourself killed! And me while you’re at it!”

  Leo stood with his hip against hers and suddenly the noise of the crowd drowned out his apology. The Führer had just arrived, in an imposing, stretch, white open-top car. They could barely make him out, but even from a distance Leo saw Adolf Hitler standing up in the front seat, his arm extended straight as a bayonet. He was in uniform, wearing a red armband bearing a swastika. The crowd was ecstatic, the shouts of “Sieg Heil!” nearly deafening.

  “I don’t understand why we are here,” said Emi, sounding close to tears. “You’ve seen him, now can we go? Maybe that man followed us, Leo.” She turned around, glancing nervously behind her.

  “I need to see it, to hear them,” said Leo. “I need to know how much hate there is in this country for me. Not just in the chemistry classroom, or in the little hallways of our school, but here on the street. I want to see the people who are going to try to kill me. Your words, right?” He knew he was scaring Emi with the determination in his voice.

  “We’ve seen it!” she screamed.

  “Yes, we are seeing it,” he whispered. “All these people who want me dead. We are seeing it right now.”

  He knew he sounded bold and careless to Emi, but what else could he be? There would be time for panic and fear later.

  “I’ll never let anything happen to you,” Emi said, as she gripped his arm. He reached for her hand, trying to reassure her.

  “Until today, I believed that. But now . . . Do you think you can do anything against all this?” They watched as two women in front of them threw flowers in the air and wept happily.

  Emi said yes, but Leo could only see her mouth move, unable to hear her over the ecstatic screams of the men and women around them. He closed his eyes and kissed her forehead. After that, he finally let her pull him out of the crowd and straight home.

  Leo knew that Emi was desperate to make good on her promise of keeping him safe, but as the difficult year raged on they both knew it was almost impossible. And after November 9, the first night of the horror that would become known as Kristallnacht, they agreed that no one could keep him safe. In the two days of anti-Jewish violence, the Hartmann chocolate factory was set on fire and almost every window broken with rocks or hammers. The manager of the factory disappeared that night, and though Leo’s parents had their Hungarian staff search the city for hours, there was no trace of him.

  “He is one of what?” Hani had screamed to her husband as the terror raged on. “Dozens? People are being taken already, Max! Abducted from the streets. We have to think about leaving. No, we have to leave. Immediately.” She started running around the house, putting her things in suitcases while Max tried to calm her, but Leo could tell no one was calm.

  Jewish homes and businesses were being destroyed one after the other and the synagogues were burning like haystacks, the firemen doing nothing to save them. They just stood and watched them, consumed by flames, sometimes trying to save a Christian-owned business if it was being affected by the blaze. When the spontaneous mobs of SA and citizens weren’t breaking glass and lighting fires, they were arresting Jews like the factory manager.

  “Dachau, Max,” said Hani, crying, Leo sitting at her feet. “That’s where they’re all going.” They heard a pounding on their door, shouts, and they all ran up to the top floor of the house, locking themselves in the attic as they had done the night before.

  When the sun had set on the second night of violence, though they were too terrified to leave the house, the Hartmanns opened their doors for Jews trying to escape the street. The factory manager’s wife, Lina Kofman, was one of them.

  “Egon was taken to Dachau, I know it,” she said, gripping Leo’s shoulders when he’d opened the front door just enough to let her inside. Her black hair was covered with a scarf that was tied so low that he had to ask her to raise it, to see her face, before he let her in. “He will die there!” she yelled when she’d reached the Hartmanns’ stairs. Leo gave her his arm, which was shaking.

  “People aren’t dying in Dachau,” said Leo, repeating what his father had told him. “It’s a work camp.”

  “A camp where they work you to death,” said Lina, breathing heavily. “They say it’s for communists and socialists. Egon isn’t one of those things! But now they hate the Jews even more. I know he’s there, he will die there,” she said, crying as Leo led her upstairs.

  That night, the Hartmanns’ synagogue, Leopoldstädter Tempel, was torched. Hours after that, the word Juden was painted in black, tarry letters on the side of their house. Max had the Hungarian driver paint over it in white the next day, but it didn’t stay covered for long.

  Against his family’s wishes, Max went outside the next morning to inspect the damage to their house, and seconds after he was on the street, he was pulled to the ground by the Sturmabteilung, the Storm Troopers. Leo and Hani watched from the window as they threw him against the still-wet paint. Four men circled around him and forced him to clean it off to expose the word Juden again, only allowing him to use a toothbrush and his tongue to do so. They then beat him and left him on the sidewalk unconscious.

  Leo had tried to run out of the house, to help his father, but Hani would not let him, instead closing the curtains and forcing them both to stay in the attic until it was quiet outside. Ten minutes later, Leo checked the window and ran out to get his father, who was badly beaten but alive. It was a miracle, said Hani, crying over her husband’s raw face, that he was left there and had not disappeared like the factory manager. They must have thought he was dead.

  That was the last day Leo went to school. The last day of Emi and Froschi in the music room or waiting for the black car driven by the nine-fingered Hungarian.

  CHAPTER 17

  EMI KATO

  NOVEMBER 1938

  After Kristallnacht, Emi was forbidden to set foot in Leo’s house.

  “It’s too dangerous,” her father had explained after he’d spoken to Max Hartmann. The two men had met several times before when the Katos, realizing that Emi’s best friend in Vienna was an Austrian boy, had invited the Hartmanns to dinner to make sure there was nothing untoward going on between them. The Hartmanns had returned the gesture, inviting the Katos not just to dinner, but to several of their musical soirées. To no one’s surprise, everyone got along very well, as anti-Semitism had not gripped Japan and certainly held no sway over the Katos. As for the Hartmanns, they were already taken with Emi and pleased to be able to host a prominent diplomatic family. The Katos figured out quickly that Emi had a romantic relationship with Leo, but they were relieved to find in him a boy who was thoroughly respectful of their young daughter, even in awe of her.

  “It wasn’t my doing, Emiko. Leo’s parents don’t want you in danger. They’ve forbidden you to visit them at home, for your own safety,” Norio told his daughter, who had spent the three days after Kristallnacht alternating between stunned silence and tears, though she had tried not to break down too often in front of her parents. “You’ll have to practice the piano at school or here, never at the Hartmanns’. And you’re not to walk in the city alone anymore. You will always have to be with your amah when you’re not at school.”

  “But then I’ll never see Leo,” Emi said, her brow creased with worry. “His parents have taken him out of school. When will I see him if he’s not at school and I can’t visit them?”

  “Your seeing him is not the Hartmanns’ concern right now,” said Norio. “Don’t be so selfish. They need to figure out if they can save their family’s business and how they will manage without Mr. Hartmann’s salary, as his employment at the bank has been terminated. Their house could be seized, their assets frozen, their possessions stolen. Mostly, they need to determine how they can leave Austria. The situation for the Jews in this country has become dire, Emiko,” Norio went on. “Their companies are being liquidated, they are being banned from public places and worse. They
are simply disappearing. It’s no longer about mistreatment, it’s a matter of life and death. I hate to speak so somberly, but you should be aware of the horrors that are occurring around us.”

  “I am aware!” said Emi, getting more upset. “I saw what they did during Kristallnacht.”

  “Then please, let the Hartmanns take care of their affairs without having to worry about you running around their house crying,” he said firmly. “When they have things in order and are leaving Vienna, we will find a way for you to say goodbye to Leo. Maybe at the consulate, where we can have some measure of protection for them. And you.”

  “I need to see him again,” she said, trying to keep herself together. “Please help me. You can arrange it, can’t you?”

  “I just said I would! Things are going to get so much worse, Emiko. This part of the world, it’s starting to scare me. You’ve seen the lines of Jews desperately begging for exit visas in front of the police stations, the foreign consulates. Not all of them will be able to leave. Nazis have even blockaded the University of Vienna. The Jews are all over the streets, being forced to do the most terrible things. And what can I do? Yesterday, I spoke to Ambassador Togo in Berlin about the situation here and there. In October he was replaced as ambassador to Germany by Hiroshi Oshima, who is very pro-Nazi.”

  “Replaced? But what will happen to Ambassador Togo and Edita?” asked Emi, anxiously.

  “He’s been reassigned to Moscow,” said Norio. “Which is fine. Not a demotion. But Oshima, he is an army general. A hawk. He’s been in Berlin since 1934, serving as the military attaché when we were there, and he met with Hitler personally the following year. I remember the pride he took in his tête-à-tête, speaking about it for months afterward. He will be no friend to the Jews.”

  “Why would anyone replace Togo with a man like that?”