I knew that despite his fervent nationalistic deportment, my father was basically a good and honorable man. His stern and rigid demeanor seemed to be as much a product of the times and environment we were in as anything else. In the face of simple human interaction, he had the capacity to show his other side. For my part, I refused to become politically engaged. I wanted my life to take a course of pursuing individual thought and liberty, free from the dogma of narrow ideologies. A course, where I would not be told, whether I could talk to Czechs or count Jews among my friends.
One day, the elegant wife of a well known local industrialist came into the store. With her was her attractive daughter Hedwig, who left an indelible mark on me. I had not seen her in more than a year and was stunned by her transformation from giggling high school senior to a young woman with poise. Her mother temporarily distracted, I mustered the courage to ask her for a secret rendezvous. Her grandfather Benjamin Simon had been a prominent town magistrate and her family did not subscribe to the nationalistic German fervor unfolding around us; a liaison between us would not have had her or my father’s blessing.
We agreed to meet at the ‘Artist’s Masquerade Ball’, a major annual social event, the following Saturday. Cupid’s arrow had struck and I was counting the hours.
Entering the festively decorated ballroom, my eyes began to feverishly search the costumed throng of party revelers. So intent was my search that I missed the white cossack uniform with saffiano boots materializing in front of me. A hand reached out and pulled me toward the dance floor. The cossack’s slender but shapely figure revealed Hedwig’s presence. A Viennese Waltz, whispered sweet nothings and the world around me had vanished into obscurity. That evening I knew that the woman I had not searched for, fate had brought into my life. I was smitten by her indisputable charm, her mental agility and last but not least, her natural beauty.
The weeks that followed were heavenly. Given her family’s views toward mine, the secretive nature of our encounters added romantic spice, but also a measure of tension from the outset. It reached its peak the day we decided to get married. Our clandestine civil ceremony took place without the blessing of our fathers. However, with support of her kind and understanding mother, we managed to get through it. The animated and jovial Otto Huebner, by then a doctor of philosophy and working at the paper in Prague, was our only witness at the civil ceremony. He joined his two friends in Prague, from where we started our wedding trip into Italy and Austria to spend four blissful and precious weeks. Late summer days revealed the beauty of those countries to us as seen through the eyes of two lovers lost to the world around them.
Returning to our new home in Reichenberg, Hedi made our friends feel welcome as the lady of the house. In neighboring Germany, Hitler had promised the people to lead them out of despair, if entrusted with the reigns of power. His magic and growing spell over the minds and hearts of the German people began to spill over into our region as last hope for some form of recovery from the horrific Depression we found ourselves in.
It was in this setting that Konrad Henlein entered the political stage. His call to unite into the ‘Sudeten German Home Front’ was greeted with unbridled enthusiasm. He was respected for his upright and uncompromising character, his community record, a page untarnished by political baggage. His messianic oratory brought out thousands wherever he appeared in public. Many, including my father and older brother Heinrich were drawn to the man and his appeal to re-assert a modicum of German equality with the Czechoslovak rulers in Prague. Yet despite my respect for the man’s character record, I could not reconcile becoming part of a movement that was quickly gaining momentum.
There was an immense rush to every one of Henlein’s assemblies throughout the region. Wherever he and his followers appeared, they were surrounded by waves of euphoria. The older established parties resented being abandoned for this newcomer and worked hard to thwart his success. Yet Henlein and his close circle of advisors were tough and indefatigable. Some parties started to crumble under the force of his movement while others decided to join.
And it was then that more pangs of conscience began to surface within me. Even though I had resisted membership, some of my Jewish friends knew that other members of our family had embraced the new movement where Jews were not welcome. Although bylaws prohibited exclusion of ethnic and racial minorities, applications from Jews never seemed to reach the finish line; and if they did cross the threshold, they were promptly ostracized by other fellow members. All this was becoming patently clear to me. I felt betrayed and angry.
Years earlier, I had rejected membership in the ‘German Nationalistic Social Worker’s Party’ only to be trapped in the fangs of a potentially much larger and virulent entity.
I was becoming distressed from what I now observed around me. Party members began to openly question Heinrich and my father about my lack of allegiance to the ‘German cause’ and continuing to befriend Jews. Feeling at a loss, I unburdened my feelings to Hedi one evening. I needed to get the perspective of others - such as Sam and Miriam, Hedi’s Jewish childhood friends. And yet, was it all getting too complicated? The words slipped out without my thinking.
“I’m afraid they won’t be able to understand our family situation.”
“Not hardly as tough on you as myself. I have known Miriam since Kindergarten and some fifteen years of school, including Prague University," Hedi responded.
“Has she made any remarks to you that could be interpreted as resentful toward us?”
“No, decidedly not - which would have perhaps made everything easier to bear. My heavy heart is with the thoughts not spoken - to me her long-time friend.”
“Perhaps, if she truly remains your friend, we are going to find mutual understanding.”
The following Sunday, a bright early fall day, we decided to hike to their home on the other side of the Jeschken mountain separating our towns. A twenty minute ride on the tram took us to the foot of the mountain. Many town folk had embarked on the same journey on this beautiful day. Yet within minutes, we found ourselves alone on one of the narrow paths winding its way up the Eastern slope of the mountain. In days past, we had scampered upwards, giddy, feeling the all consuming innocence of young lovers, shouting, laughing, holding hands to brace each other’s fall, falling ever so softly. The fluffy brown earth was covered by a thin coat of needles. Wild blueberry plants, many still yielding their sweet offerings under a tight cover of leaves and thigh high fernery flanked the sides of our path. Gnarled roots of majestic fir trees stretched across it, helping to reinforce the grip of our hiking boots, as we started the climb toward the top. Thirty minutes later, we had reached our favourite spot - a mid-level plateau, where the green cathedral of towering firs opened its door to a panoramic view of the valley below. This view always brought serenity and joy to our hearts. Yet today, these sentiments eluded us.
“I think appreciation of nature’s beauty reaches beyond our eyes into the depth of our soul.”
Hedi nodded, acknowledging my sentiments.
“I cannot remember being here without being in the grip of this incredible scenery - until today”, I added.
We continued on the moss covered path, which snaked it’s way upward in widening serpentines and soon reached the top. For a long while, we stood motionless at the shoulder high iron railing barrier, our gaze fixed westward. Through the greyish silvery haze, illuminated by the glistening rays of sunlight, out there somewhere was the border between us and Germany. Our unspoken thoughts likely were those of gut churning