A Perfect Madness (36 page)

Julia turned away from Django quickly,
not wanting him to see her own tears, because she had left her love
with Erich when the first spring rains came to Prague.

As this strange bond between them grew
over the weeks, Julia would hike with Django through the mountains
a day’s distance to a small village, which held few folks and had
no name. There they would bargain for vegetables and a pig or a
goat, and sometimes for woolen yarn that had been dyed bright
colors. Accessible only by a dirt road full of deep potholes and
ruts and rocks, the German patrols had come but a few times to the
village since the war began, taking what they wanted in food or
livestock and sometimes home-brewed beer.

But the last visit they stayed longer
because the Gestapo was with the patrols. Watching from the hills
above the village, Julia saw their autos and knew more than Django
that something serious had happened to bring them to such a remote
place. Eva had come with them this day to carry a second pig back
to the camp, which had grown by three more gypsy families, who
wandered in unannounced as she and Julia had.

Had she and Julia been there to meet
the newcomers, they would have known then who the Gestapo was
looking for. Twilight would settle in before the Germans would
leave and they could come down from the hills. It was then that
they learned from a friendly farmer that Reinhard Heydrich had been
assassinated in Prague by Czech intelligence. The countryside was
crawling with soldiers and the Gestapo arresting and killing anyone
they thought might be involved. Julia listened to the sadness in
the man’s voice, as he told them of his own loss. His two sons were
visiting kinfolk in Lidice when the Germans came, and had been
executed along with every man and boy in the town. When the
horrific slaughter was complete, the village was burned to the
ground, leaving nothing but an echoing silence for those that would
later come there.

Julia and Eva glanced quickly at each
other as the farmer talked. The secret operation Anthropoid
connected to their own mission had been successful, and that was
good, but at what price? More would die soon in the days ahead,
they knew, from the Nazi’s means of exacting revenge. Julia walked
over to Django, who had separated from them to watch the emerging
red colors of the setting sun bounce wildly across the rocky hills
above the village.

“
We must return to the
camp tonight, Eva and I, to get Josh. We will gather what food we
can here, and go immediately,” Julia said.

Django seemed surprised at her words.
No woman had ever told him what he must do, because he was a person
of consequence, a don among the gypsies. Women had always sought
his permission, rather than taking it upon themselves.

“
Trying to make our way
through the hills without light will be too dangerous for us. There
are deep drop offs. No, when morning comes we will
leave.”

Django’s words fell on deaf ears. Eva
moved quickly to select a small pig from the farmer’s sty, tied its
legs together, and hoisted the squealing animal across her
shoulders. Without bargaining the price as she had enjoyed doing
with Django by her side, Julia paid what the farmer asked, filled
her backpack with carrots and potatoes, and followed Eva, who was
starting up the first of many steep inclines ahead on the mountain
trail. Angered by Julia’s sudden display of independence, and what
he thought was a crafted insult to him, Django watched them for a
few minutes as they climbed higher into the hills, disappearing
from view. He would soon follow though, and learn of their deftness
at navigating through the blackness that now surrounded them. They
were better than he was and he didn’t know why, which disturbed him
even more.

Stopping only twice to rest, the three
travelers ended their fourteen-mile journey as dawn came to an end,
lifting the darkness from the trees. Looking ahead to where the
camp should be, Julia slowed her pace, then stopped. There were no
camp fires to be seen, no voices to be heard, only a stillness so
soft she could hear the early morning dew dropping from the leaves
to the forest floor. For a moment it was as if she were walking
once again as a child through the Old Jewish Cemetery, because the
smell of the dead was all around.

Julia signaled for Eva and Django to
wait hidden in the trees while she entered the deserted camp alone.
No sign of life could be seen. Unable to stay back any longer, Eva
and Django rushed forward and joined her in the broad opening of
the camp. Julia saw it then, as if she knew it would be there:
Josh’s woolly toy dog. Julia picked up the toy dog, lying alone on
the ground next to the cold fire, and held it close to her cheek,
stroking it gently while trying to get a sense of what might have
happened. There was no real solution before her, other than that
the camp had been vacated hurriedly by the gypsies. They had been
eating, was all she knew. How else could you explain the pots and
pans and plates strewn throughout the camp, some still full with
roasted cabbage and pork slices.

Julia circled the camp to a smaller
opening that led to several family huts. Seeing nothing to alarm
her, she walked back to where Eva and Django were standing, who
seemed puzzled by the empty camp.

“
There is no ready answer
for what happened,” she said. “Unless they are scattered in the
woods hiding, they have been taken by the Germans.”

“
The Germans will come
back again, I’m sure. We should get the hell away from here,” Eva
said.

Julia nodded and knelt down by the pig
they had brought from the village and cut the twine binding its
feet, setting it free to roam the forest and root for food like its
ancestors once did. Scampering away, the animal set its course
towards the woods near the small opening where Julia had been.
Waiting for the pig to disappear among the trees and brush, now
grunting happily, Julia walked around the empty camp once more to
breathe in the warm joys that had captured her heart here. What
memories and stories they would make someday when she was back with
Anna. Though the grunting of the pig could still be heard, now deep
in the woods rooting for acorns and black walnuts along the forest
floor, Julia looked no further. Picking up the backpack full of
potatoes and carrots, she started back through the woods in the
direction from which she emerged two months back with Eva and Josh.
Had she gone farther, deeper into the woods where the pig was
grunting loudly, she would have seen the bodies, all naked and
dead.

They came to kill, that was all. It
was their only duty as Einsatzgruppen, chosen to kill the Jews and
Gypsies and anyone else Himmler and the Reich Ministry decided must
die. And that is what they did, coming unexpectedly from the woods,
descending on the camp like an ancient Mongol horde. Within minutes
the small band of gypsies, with little Josh among them, were
marched naked into the woods, lined up in a row, and shot in the
back of the head. Taking the gypsies’ sparkling bracelets and
rings, Einsatzgruppen left singing, because it had been a good
morning for the chosen.

No one would ever know what they did
here. The bodies would soon be food for the animals of the forest,
including the lonely pig set free by Julia. Nor would it ever be
known how the chosen knew the gypsies were there. But one might
suspect they knew from Django’s many shopping visits to the village
with no name. How else could you explain the strange man who would
carry a pig strapped to his back and disappear into the
forest?

At first he had refused to leave the
camp, certain all of the gypsies would soon return. But it was Eva
who cut through his quick denial of what had happened, pushing
aside the curtains hiding his grief with her strong voice so that
he might at least hear the truth. His family would not leave
without him, and if the Germans took them, they were dead or soon
would be. Django only nodded, as if he understood, then waved them
on without him.

“
You must wait for me when
you are outside the forest and I will tell you my plan. But right
now I want to look at the emptiness around me and listen to its
silence for a few moments—some precious souls may be waiting still
to say goodbye,” he said, turning and walking back to his
cart.

Julia hesitated for a second, then
motioned for Eva to follow her as she continued on into the forest.
When they emerged, Julia and Eva sat down on a large rock to wait
for Django, who was following slowly, crying aloud for his family
with every step taken. Looking back east across the long rolling
hills and summer-brown fields, Julia felt like the world had
suddenly shrunk in size a million times over. Everything and
everyone seemed much closer now, leaving little room to hide in.
Heydrich’s death had put the Germans everywhere, in every village
that lay before them.

“
There is no place for us,
Eva, no place. Pilsen and Prague are out,” she said, openly
despondent over their situation.

“
Bratislava should be
open. Hitler gave Slovakia its independence from Czech rule when he
took Prague,” Eva said, eyeing Django, who was stepping from the
edge of the woods to join them.

“
No, the Nazi puppet
Father Tiso is there, and he is delivering Jews to the Germans as
quickly as he can find them. We would be captured in no
time.”

“
It’s my home, I know the
people,” Eva said loudly, exasperated with Julia’s
indecisiveness.

“
You are still a Jew and
loyalty is a rare virtue in wartime, especially when one’s own life
is at stake.”

Eva knew Julia was right and said
nothing more. With a Slovakian government as Hitler’s ally, they
would easily be trapped by the Gestapo in Bratislava. Django had
listened with interest to their words, shaking his head all the
while in disagreement.

“
We should go north to the
tall mountains around Banska Bystrica where there will be friends
and few Germans,” he said, smiling proudly with the solution he had
offered.

Julia had thought of the Carpathian
Mountains, too. The partisans were strong there and they could
reestablish contact with intelligence in London. But to travel
across the open country that lay distant before them would be no
different from playing Russian roulette with six bullets instead of
one. Yet to stay and not try would be just as suicidal.

“
How far are the
mountains, Eva?” she asked.

“
Depending on how far
north we head from here, seventy-five miles, maybe a little more.
There will be nothing to hide us. The land will be open clear up to
the arms of the mountains.”

Django began to shake his head again
listening to Julia and Eva’s words. “There is a way—an old Romani
road used by my people many times when they would go and hide back
in the valleys of the mountains as we wish to do now,” he said,
smiling sadly.

Julia looked into Django’s eyes, as
she had the first night sitting around the campfire. Black as round
bits of coal anchored deep in the sockets of his face, they could
never look at you but through you, as if you carried a shallow and
empty soul. How fond she was of him. He was more a man than her
Erich; he had cried unashamedly in her arms the night they sat
together deep in the woods, speaking of his dead wife. But the
passion she felt for Erich had wrapped itself around her soul the
first night each gave their love to the other. Only time would
loosen such a passion, and time no longer existed. All that had
been lived, all that had happened in these years of a terrible war
would be spoken of with the voices of storytellers, rich with
disbelief in what had passed. There was nothing that seemed real
around her now except death. Django’s way would have to be their
fairy tale gamble. Had she still been a child, the golem would be
here to carry her away.

“
Show us the road and we
will follow,” was all Julia said as she stood, waiting for Django
to begin the long trek to the mountains.

Django smiled and beamed with pride.
He was in charge again, as a man should be.

“
We will go south a few
miles to find the old road, then turn north for the mountains.
Perhaps my family is walking on this road also,” he said, motioning
for Julia and Eva to follow.

***

TWENTY-FIVE

Erich, Brandenburg, 1943

A
s each week passed
the gray buses came more often to Görden, bringing many patients
from distant villages, crowding the examining room and courtyard at
times. Long days became the standard for Erich and the rest of the
medical staff. At the beginning, his examinations of the patients
were far more thorough than anyone else’s. He often dismissed
patients from the walk down the hall to the gassing room,
scribbling in their charts, “Capable of working.” None escaped
their fate, though. As soon as he dismissed them, they were quickly
returned to the line waiting before Franz, who took no longer than
one minute, often less, to pass them on to their deaths. In time,
Erich saw what was happening but continued his ways in examining
his patients, as a good doctor would, until fatigue finally
deadened his mind. He would leave then to go and sit, and sometimes
read, next to Mother Mary, one of the statues that greeted the
crazies from her place in the garden.