36
Steamship Gneisenau, Port of Venice, Italy
March 2, 1939
3:45 p.m. (Ora Italiana)
From the top deck, Josef observed the SS Gneisenau’s roster assemble. On the wharf below, black cars and carriages shuttled to and from the distant arches of the Port of Venice railway station like beetles. With every arrival, another group of passengers would emerge, momentarily uniting to take their first excited look at the great steamship until the unexpected chill of the easterly wind pushed them quickly into the offices of Norddeutscher Lloyd.
Josef had been on board since the morning. The day before, Pfeiffer had delivered him to Professor Schmidt in Munich, departing with a pat of a leather-gloved hand on the side of his face to reinforce his final words. “You know the rules, Josef Becker: summit or die in the attempt. Those are the only circumstances that will let your family live. Good luck. I will await the news of your success.”
Left alone with the professor, the corpulent man was quick to establish his own complicity in the threats of Operation Sisyphus. “Soldier, mountain guide, smuggler, prisoner, whatever it is you really are, let us be clear about one thing from the start. If you go missing at any time during our long journey ahead, I am instructed to telegram the information directly to Obersturmführer Pfeiffer. We are both aware of what instructions will be given as regards your mother and sisters should you not return. You should know that it has taken me three years to organize this expedition, the last ten to earn the trust and respect of the superiors who now reward me with its leadership. I will do everything in my power to assist Operation Sisyphus, and you in return will do nothing to jeopardize the opportunity I have been given.”
During the preparations for the departure of the 1939 Combined German Universities Himalayan Expedition on the night train to Venice, Schmidt had introduced Josef to the rest of the assembled team, describing him as a noncommissioned army mountain guide assigned to the expedition by the reichsführer-SS. He pompously embellished Josef’s cover story by saying it was a clear demonstration of the esteem in which the reichsführer held both him and his expedition, before warning there could be no further discussion of Becker’s role with anyone as any military presence on a civilian expedition was classified. Soon after the train departed, Josef excused himself to sleep, silently irritated by the group’s boisterous braggadocio; the loudmouthed Schmidt always at the center of the selection of smug, self-satisfied students from elite Nazi families. Josef didn’t think there looked to be a climber amongst them.
He slept well despite the sleeper carriage’s cramped cot but awoke early to a misty Italian dawn, feeling anxious for his family yet unable to remember the details of the dream that caused it. Trying to shake off his anxiety, Josef watched the passing flatlands of the Veneto emerge into another day, envying the freedom of the farmers already tending the wide tracts of land. With a heavy heart, he mourned simpler days when he too worked in the high pastures and climbed for amusement, not mercy.
The train reached Venice at 9:00 a.m. precisely. With all the equipment on board by lunchtime and the rest of the day to enjoy before the ship set sail, Schmidt loudly invited the team to visit the watery city with him. Under his breath he said to Josef, “You, on the other hand, will remain on board until we leave port.” Josef didn’t care; he was glad to be free of them. He unpacked and then set off to explore the ship, the first he had ever been on, finally settling against that rail on the highest deck to smoke and watch the preparations to sail.
His last cigarette finished, Josef grabbed the polished brass handle of the door to return inside.
Opening it, he found his path blocked by a woman. Seemingly a few years younger than him, she was wearing a long, dark blue coat with a bright scarf tied over her glossy, dark brown hair. On a thin leather strap around her neck hung a silver Leica camera.
The surprise of the girl’s beauty combined with the shock of seeing a camera identical to the one that he had been supplied with for his mission stopped Josef in his tracks. Unable to pass, his thoughts returned from a momentary recall of being relentlessly drilled in photographic techniques at Wewelsburg to consider the gentle contours of the face before him, the soft curls pushing forward from the red and gold silk scarf, the jade green of the eyes looking back.
Moving aside to let him enter, the girl said in Italian, “È freddo là fuori?”
Josef stepped inside, missing the question but excusing himself in German as he entered.
“I asked you if it was cold outside,” she replied, switching to fluent German. She smiled as she spoke, thinking to herself that he had a kind, handsome face, but one that looked tired, heavy with cares.
Her eyes met Josef’s, pulling his glance into hers for a split second. “Yes … it is,” he replied, rendered unsure of himself by the girl’s scrutiny.
He could feel the details of her face—the long eyelashes, the gentle downward curve of the bright eyes, the fuller upward sweep of her mouth—etching themselves into his brain as she responded, “Good. Then I must make the most of it. I think the cold is going to be one of the things I will miss most where I am going.”
“And where are you going?”
“Hyderabad, India.”
“That’s a long way away from Germany.”
“It is,” she replied, a little pensively at first before seeming to remind herself of something happier, “but it is for the best. My father is building a factory there with an English business partner. We are moving there permanently so that he can supervise its operation. Hopefully the light is good enough for me to take some last photographs to remind me of chilly old Europe?”
“It is,” Josef replied, well aware of the conditions necessary to take the perfect photograph.
Looking directly at Josef again, the girl asked, “So were you saying farewell to the cold as well?”
“Not exactly.” He paused before adding, “I don’t think I am destined to escape it so easily.”