Petrova, the Czech housekeeper, who had worked for ‘Herr Doktor’ for more years than anyone could remember, shuffled toward the door to check out the unexpected arrivals.
“Herr and Frau Doktor have gone to the market. Nearly an hour ago - shouldn’t be much longer.”
She had recognized Hedi as a close family friend and ushered us into the library overlooking the market square; little had changed in a room where we had spent many happy hours since we first visited years back. We had just started to scan the hundreds of titles along an entire wall of the room, when we noticed them through the window. They were crossing the town square diagonally from right to left. Sam was pushing a carriage, vainly attempting to control it’s galloping bounce across the cobble stone pavement. Hedi went to the door to meet her old friend. She was greeted with surprise, but little joy. I followed her slowly and studied the faces of our involuntary hosts. I had the feeling of looking at two people, who had faced a sense of discrimination all of their lives. Perhaps I was only imparting my own feelings on to them.
Despite great efforts toward casual demeanor on everyone’s part, there was an undertone of discomfort in the air. Once settled in the parlour, Petrova served herbal tea.
“What brings you - glad to see you both. It’s been a long time,” Sam opened the conversation.
“Much too long,” Miriam chimed in looking in Hedi’s direction.
“We are, I mean I am....................”. I was struggling to find the right words.
It fell to Hedi to complete what I seemed unable to articulate.
“Walter has been troubled by the growing nationalistic sentiment spreading across the region. He has managed to detach himself thus far but you probably have an idea where others in his family stand.”
Given recent events, there simply was no room for irrelevant small talk to skirt around the raw edges of fear and suspicion of a human condition unlike any of us had experienced.
“Walter, your loyalty to all your friends is not in question,” Miriam responded softly.
I was beginning to relax, when Sam tore away the protective but illusive covering.
“The German people hate us and it is this hate from which we shall perish.”
His voice was agitated, his words a mixture of apprehension and bitter lament.
My throat was dry, temples were pounding. What could one say to something which seemed increasingly true.
“Sam, how can you speak like this. The hatred, which seems to be flowing your way, is only the hatred of some special units. And that’s only a few thousand radicals.”
I was thinking of Hitler’s ‘brown shirts’, of course. The words had barely left my mouth, when I regretted what I had said. What a rationalization! How could those words possibly offer any reassurance to old friends.
Sam was quick to seize the opening. He rose from his chair, pointing his arm toward the window; dozens of people were flocking through the square.
“Why then are millions of ordinary German citizens not rising up against growing discrimination of anything not Aryan?”
Once again I seemed to be stumped for words; and again, it was Hedi who responded.
“Yes, there are many, who do not like the Jewish people and they act as parasites on the millions of Germans, who sense the injustice being done to you”.
I couldn’t see that this was getting us anywhere.
“I have been threatened by some party members for my liberal and pacifist behaviour. Others, including Heinrich and my father have been blind to the dangerous direction in which this is all likely heading,” I added.
“And - why talk to us?” Sam wanted to know.
“We feel a collective guilty conscience, despite the position and risk we have taken ourselves personally.”
My words hung in the air for an uncomfortably long time.
“We are going to attempt to understand your point of view”. Sam’s voice was calm and reflective.
“Because you are our friends,” Miriam added.
“When you think of our friendship, did you ever have the feeling that these problems could undermine it one day?”Hedi asked.
“Not until now,” Miriam responded.
Sam expanded on Miriam’s thoughts.
“However, you have become prisoners of these problems. We are able to make that distinction. By virtue of your family’s membership in Henlein’s party, you are becoming enemies of all things Jewish.”
“The bylaws of the party program do not exclude anyone of Jewish faith from.......”
Sam waved off my awkward attempt to explain something we both knew was not there. He now sounded impatient and frustrated.
“That is simple camouflage. The Republic already has a democratic constitution, which forbids political parties, who discriminate against persons of different race or religion.”
“But Henlein has to openly acknowledge when a Jew has been denied membership”.
This was merely another futile attempt on my part. Even I knew that I was making up this last part, since it had become public knowledge that attempts in this direction had the opposite outcome. Applications were not denied, yet acknowledgments of admission were non-existent.
“Let’s stay with the truth, please.” Sam said dryly.
He had risen again from his chair and was pacing back and forth as he spoke. His voice rose another octave with the following sentence - Sam’s peculiar way of not shouting while shouting.
“You know the results well enough when attempts for membership are made. Henlein, the wolf, has lost his sheep’s clothing.”
“But I cannot believe.....”, I countered lamely.
“One can never believe that which one will not believe. We know full well that you feel disappointed, perhaps betrayed. You, as a liberal and tolerant individual has rejected the propaganda machine, unlike hundreds of thousands of Sudeten Germans.”
Sam returned to his chair.
I felt uncomfortable, my face beginning to flush. Sam’s assessment of the situation could not be denied. I dropped my feeble guard.
“Assume you’re correct, Sam, where is the way out of this dilemma?”