Gertruda's Oath: A Child, a Promise, and a Heroic Escape During World War II (7 page)

“They’re following us,” Jacob said to Lydia with a worried expression. “They apparently saw the police come into our house.”

“Or somebody told them about it.”

“Who?” he asked in amazement.

“Any of the workers in the house. The servants, the gardeners, the cook … Every one of them could be a partner in that plot.”

“We’ve always treated them like family. It’s troublesome to think that one of them is plotting to harm us.”

“What do you plan to do now?” she asked.

“Of course, I’ll give this letter to the police. There is no way I’ll give in to these criminals.”

The windows of the mansion on Ujazdowska Avenue overlooked lively Chopin Park. Parents strolled with their children, nannies
pushed baby buggies, happy families spread blankets on the lawn and feasted on delicacies.

Michael begged Gertruda to take him for a walk in the park. Ever since the blackmail letters had come, they had been warned not to leave the house. But weeks passed and nothing happened. It was hard for Michael to be cooped up inside, and Gertruda consulted with his mother.

“Take him for just a short walk,” Lydia agreed. “But on condition that Emil watches you.”

Emil was relieved of all his work. The sky was clear when they left the house and entered the park. In the chauffeur’s pocket a gun was hidden, given to him by his employer. Jacob Stolowitzky demanded that Emil stay very close to the nanny and the child.

The three of them ate ice cream in a café on the shore of the lake. Gertruda saw nothing suspicious. She shut her eyes and dozed off in the sun. Michael licked all his ice cream and Emil lit a cigarette.

Soon they headed home. Gertruda and Michael strolled arm in arm and Emil walked behind them. As they were walking, a mass of bushes suddenly loomed up at the side of the path and a man and a woman darted out of it. They attacked Michael and tried to get him out of Gertruda’s arms. The nanny hugged the child with all her might and shouted for help. The man punched her in the nose, and he and the woman continued to pry the child from his nanny’s arms. A few men walking nearby ran up to Gertruda and Michael. The two kidnappers let go and started fleeing. Emil pulled out his gun, shot at them, and started chasing them. Gertruda clutched Michael to her heart and he burst into tears. She asked the men who surrounded her to walk them back to the mansion. When they got home, Lydia gave her son and the nanny one look and was in a panic. She quickly bolted the door behind them.

“What happened?” she wanted to know.

Gertruda told her.

“You’re hurt.”

“It’s nothing,” said the nanny. Her nose was bleeding and her body ached from the blows, but she didn’t complain. The important thing was that Michael was safe. She wouldn’t have forgiven herself if the kidnappers had won.

Lydia brought bandages and antiseptic.

Emil came back some time later. “I chased the bastards, but they were too fast for me,” he said sadly. “I couldn’t catch them.”

The police inspectors heard Gertruda and Emil’s story. The two of them were questioned at length and asked to describe the two kidnappers. “Was it the same woman who gave you the letter for Mr. Stolowitzky?” one of the inspectors asked Emil.

“Yes,” he replied. “It was the same woman.”

“Did you see where they escaped?”

“They left the park and ran to a car that was waiting for them. They got into it and drove off. I shot at the car but it disappeared.”

“What kind of car?”

“A black Mercedes.”

“Did you see the license number?”

“I didn’t have time.”

The inspectors came to Jacob Stolowitzky in the middle of a business meeting downtown. They closed themselves up in his office and told him about the chain of events.

“Somebody apparently revealed to the kidnappers that your child was about to go to the park,” they said. “They laid in wait to kidnap him. Who could have told them about the planned walk?”

“Only the nanny, Gertruda, and the chauffeur, Emil, knew in advance about the walk,” he said.

“How long has the nanny worked for you?”

“More than a year.”

“You’re satisfied with her?”

“Very.”

“And the chauffeur? How long has he worked here?”

“Six years.”

“Who hired him?”

“I did. We put an ad in the paper and he came with good references.”

“Have you had problems with him during the time that he’s worked for you?”

“Never.”

“He may well have cooperated with the kidnappers,” said the inspector. “Remember that he was the person who brought you the two extortion letters. He also knew in advance about the visit to the park. He did shoot at the kidnappers but didn’t hit them. He may have missed on purpose. I think we should arrest him.”

“Do you have any proof?”

“We don’t have any proof, but we do have our suspicions.”

“That’s not enough,” Stolowitzky insisted. “Emil is a devoted and loyal employee. He wouldn’t dare do something bad to us.”

“People are willing to do a lot for money,” said the inspector. “Nevertheless, we do have to consider the possibility that he’s involved in it. Trust our instincts. After he sits in prison awhile, he’ll tell us everything. To be on the safe side, you should look for another chauffeur.”

“Absolutely not,” protested Stolowitzky. “I guarantee that Emil wasn’t involved in this. We’re very satisfied with him and have no doubt that he’s loyal and honest.”

Nevertheless, the police decided to hold Emil for questioning. Bowed and sad, he went with them and came back only two days later.

“They picked on me for no reason,” he complained to his employers. “They threw me into a cell with common criminals and questioned me day and night. But, in the end, they didn’t find anything against me.”

The meeting hall of Karl Rink’s SS unit was packed with men young and old, all wearing black uniforms. Outside was early November cold, and inside the hall, dense with clouds of cigarette smoke, a tense expectation prevailed.

Rink, however, was relaxed and at ease. Ever since he had joined the SS, he had mainly provided security for the senior members of the party. No one mentioned his Jewish wife and he was sure that fact was forgotten. To his great joy, Mira’s fears had also subsided a little over time.

At seven on the dot the commander of the unit, Reinhard Schreider, stormed into the hall. He climbed onto the stage and raised his hand. “Heil Hitler!” A forest of hands went up and the hall echoed with shouts of “Heil!”

A silence fell when Schreider, his face enraged and his voice thundering, began his speech about an incident that had made headlines: a few days earlier, a Jewish student named Hershel
Greenspan had entered the German embassy in Paris and shot to death the diplomat Ernst von Rath in revenge for the Nazis’ expulsion of his family from Germany.

“We’ve all heard about the awful crime in Paris,” shouted the commander hoarsely. “And you know who’s guilty?”

“The Jews!” the hall thundered unanimously.

“If the Jews think we’ll ignore what happened,” added Schreider, “they’re very wrong. We will give them what they gave us. Tonight, all over Germany, demonstrations are being held against the Jews, and I call on every one of you to recruit as many friends as possible and go out into the streets.”

He gave clear orders: to destroy the shops and apartments of Jews, to burn down synagogues, to locate Jewish businessmen and outstanding figures in the community and arrest them on the spot. Thousands of other activists of the Nazi Party all over Germany received similar orders at the same time from their district commanders.

Karl Rink went out into the cold street, into the night that would be remembered as the abomination of “Kristallnacht.” He knew he was expected to act as a loyal SS man, that his comrades were relying on him to carry out the order to strike the Jews. His commanders appreciated his devotion, his obedience, his loyalty to the principles of the organization. He had been promoted faster than others, got a job in SS headquarters, a good salary, and a motorcycle. As a loyal member of the party, he always carried out every order from his superiors. Now, on the evening of a pogrom against the Jews, he hesitated for the first time.

He thought of Mira, her parents, and her family. Ever since they had gotten married, he treated her family like his own flesh
and blood. When he was with them, he didn’t talk about his work, never said a word against the Jews, never harmed them or their property, as his companions did, and he was offended when the family broke ties with him when they learned of his activity in the SS. This evening, he was ordered explicitly to commit acts he had never thought of doing, but he was part of a unit whose members had sworn to obey orders and he had no idea how to avoid carrying out the mission.

He was forced to go with them that night when they assaulted Jewish shops in Berlin and smashed display windows, had to watch them burst into the apartments of terrified Jews, beat them up, and destroy their furniture. He tried to stay as far away as he could without arousing suspicion, and he breathed a sigh of relief when things returned to normal in the morning. He made his way home slowly, past heaps of smashed furniture thrown out the windows of Jewish houses. He tiptoed inside, careful not to wake his wife and daughter. He got into bed silently but couldn’t sleep, picturing the pale faces of the Jews who were victimized by the Nazi thugs. He knew he wouldn’t dare tell Mira and Helga about it.

He woke up late in the morning. Helga had already gone to school and his wife looked dejected.

“I heard about what happened last night,” she said. “Tell me the truth, Karl. Were you there, too?”

“I was, but I stood aside.”

She looked at him directly.

“How long will you be able to stand aside, Karl? How long before you’ll have to hurt Jews yourself? I could still somehow understand your motives when you joined the party. Many unemployed people had to do that. It was a time of great dreams, of belief in
Hitler’s power, even though I knew and told you explicitly that someday the Jews would fall victim to the Führer’s lunacy. You don’t fit that group of thugs. You don’t fit because you’re my husband and the father of our daughter. Don’t forget for one moment, Karl, that I’m a Jew, and Helga is a Jew like me according to Nazi law. For her sake and mine, promise me you’ll leave the SS.”

Karl was perplexed. He was torn between his wife and the party, but his faith in Hitler was still strong, in spite of everything.

“The party has done a lot for us,” he said. “I was unemployed, we didn’t have a penny, and suddenly Hitler came and everything changed. There are also decent people in the SS, Mira. What they did to the Jews was the result of anger about the murder in Paris. Everything will calm down, I promise you.”

“Don’t you understand that the situation will only get worse?”

“You see things in the wrong light, Mira.”

He was pouring himself a cup of coffee when, suddenly, the doorbell rang. Karl went to open it and stood face-to-face with an SS man he didn’t know.

“Schreider wants you to come to him,” said the messenger.

“When?”

“Right now.”

Ever since he had joined the SS, Rink had never had a chance to meet the commander of his unit in person. He wondered why Reinhard Schreider had summoned him to an urgent meeting.

“What could he want with you?” Mira wondered. “Maybe he wants to punish you for not taking part in the destruction?”

Karl didn’t reply. He left the house, started his motorcycle, and went to SS headquarters.

Life in the Stolowitzky mansion went on as usual even as war clouds were lowering over Europe. The rapid development of the German army, the annexation of Austria to the Third Reich, and Hitler’s rule over the entire Sudetenland in Czechoslovakia did stir concern in Poland, but the Stolowitzky family continued going to the summer estate, entertaining guests, and skiing in the mountains. Business was flourishing and money flowed in. There were no more blackmail and kidnapping attempts. “There’s no reason to worry,” Jacob would say to soothe those around him and himself. “In the end, Hitler won’t dare go to war.” He was optimistic about the future. He knew that even in the worst case, he wouldn’t be especially hurt. Most of his money was in a safe place—in the armor-plated vaults of the banks in Switzerland.

Meanwhile, every afternoon, when it wasn’t too cold or rainy, Gertruda went for a walk with Michael. Before they left they would report to Lydia for a final check. Michael would ask his mother seriously: “Are we dressed properly for the Stolowitzky family?” And Lydia would smile and reply: “Of course, you’re dressed just fine.” She would give Gertruda a few zlotys and wish them a nice time.

Gertruda and Michael would go out the gate, usually accompanied by Emil, cross the street, go into nearby Chopin Park, pat the peacocks walking around freely, eat ice cream or cake in Café Belvedere, and sail in the colorful boats on the lake. They also loved to ride downtown on the trolley, watch the trains coming and going at the busy station, and look into the display windows packed with goodies.

Emil occasionally drove them out of town. They went to little villages whose residents looked admiringly at the rich people from
Warsaw, bought apples and cherries from farmers at the side of the road, and strolled on paths among the vegetable plots. Emil didn’t hide his attraction to Gertruda. He courted her ardently and showered gifts on her, which she politely refused. She continued to ask him to leave her alone.

On a spring day in 1939, when Gertruda and Michael went out as usual, the sky was blue and a bright sun stood overhead. They strolled on Yeruzalimska Street, and at a small kiosk Gertruda bought chocolates for Michael and herself. When they sat down on a bench and munched on the treat, a brown puppy came to them, wagging his tail. Michael patted him and the puppy licked his hand.