Prague, July 18, 1939
THE WILSON TRAIN STATION was bustling in the twilight of a warm Prague evening. No one paid too much attention to the attractive woman and her tall, pale son who stood together on the platform waiting for the departure of the Prague–Paris express. It was an overnight train, due to arrive in Paris early on the morning of July 19. Nazi officials patrolled the station, glancing casually at the passengers who were waiting to depart or awaiting the arrival of friends and loved ones. An uneasy calm prevailed as people went about their business and tried to avoid catching the eye of the guards. Karl and his mother were doing the same.
“I’m so proud of you, Karl,” his mother whispered, reaching up to kiss her son on the cheek. When had he grown to be so much taller than she?
Karl returned her embrace, feeling the weight of responsibility on his shoulders for what he was about to do. His mind was galloping, reliving all that had transpired in the preceding twenty-four hours.
Packing had been simple. No one wanted to attract too much attention and a large quantity of luggage could draw unwanted questions from border officials, or those Nazi guards who continued to walk past on the platform. He had only brought clothing and a few books with him from Rakovník to Prague, and he would take the same belongings, plus his precious camera, to Paris. Perhaps he would have a chance to use the camera again once the family was in a place of safety. Karl’s small brown suitcase rested next to him as he stood with his mother.
Saying good-bye to Leila that morning had been difficult. The truth was, if this escape were successful, it was possible that he might never see his nanny again. She had held on to Karl for a long time, sobbing quietly, and wishing him a safe journey and a good life. The memories of his childhood in her care welled up inside of Karl even now and he shook his head trying to regain his composure. Bidding farewell to his dog was also painful. He knew in his heart that it was unlikely he would ever see his pet again, and when he had buried his head in Lord’s neck and clung to him, the Great Dane squirmed and barked loudly, perhaps sensing that something was different in this embrace with his master.
Just before leaving the villa, Karl had had one last, brief conversation with Hana. “Do you still think this is all an adventure?” he asked.
Hana had tilted her head to one side and eyed her brother thoughtfully. “We will all be together looking back on this one day, Karl. I’m sure of it. Besides, you’re the one who always gets me out of trouble. So I’m counting on you to do that for all of us, now.”
Karl recalled all that and more as he stood with his mother waiting to board the train. “I hope it’s on time,” he said, trying to make casual conversation.
“I’ll see you in Paris in a few days,” his mother replied, reaching up to straighten his starched shirt collar.
Karl nodded. His mother’s words sounded calm and confident, but he knew her well enough to detect the worry in her eyes. This could not have been easy for Marie – to relinquish her son with no certainty that he would be safe. As for Karl, in truth he was feeling a bit like the sacrificial slave about to be thrown into the gladiator’s ring. He was hopeful that all the papers were legitimate, as the Gestapo official had promised, and that he would make it safely across the border. But they were putting their lives into the hands of a Nazi, all of whom were deceitful as far as Karl was concerned.
The fear that things might go horribly wrong crept into his brain and threatened to destroy his resolve. What if he were detained at the border and questioned? He had rehearsed the statement: I’m traveling to Paris to meet my father. It sounded innocent enough. But everyone knew that instead of regular border guards, the border was now policed by the dreaded SS in their black uniforms with the swastikas on their armbands and the skull-and-crossbones emblems on their caps. That image alone terrified Karl. He wondered if he had it in him to be as resourceful as his father, who was working furiously to bring the family together, or as his mother, who had already saved them several times over. Yes, his mother had been more of a hero than he ever could have imagined. Could he follow in her courageous footsteps? He shook his head. He simply could not let his mind dwell on the danger. He had to hold on to the belief that he would be in Paris in several hours and happily reunited with his father.
A train attendant passed by on the platform and Marie stepped out to stop him. “Excuse me,” she said. “My son has a ticket to Paris on the express train.” As she spoke she reached into her handbag, withdrawing a sizeable amount of money. She rolled the bills into a tight wad and pushed them firmly into the attendant’s hand. “You’ll see to it that he is not disturbed and that he has a safe and comfortable journey, won’t you?”
The steward looked down at the cash in his hand and then up into the steady gaze of the well-dressed woman in front of him. He glanced at Karl and then again at his own hand. Karl wondered if he suspected that they were Jewish or merely wealthy travelers. Finally, the attendant tipped his hat, bowed slightly, pocketed the money, and smiled at Marie. “Madame, if you would give me the young man’s papers, I’ll see to it that he isn’t bothered the entire journey.”
Marie reached into her bag once more and withdrew Karl’s travel documents: his ticket, passport, and the all-important exit permit needed to get out of Czechoslovakia and safely into France. These would have to be presented at the border. She hesitated a moment, and then handed them over to the waiting steward. He accepted the documents, tipped his hat once more, and signaled Karl to follow him.
There was only time for one more quick good-bye. “I’ll give your love to Father,” Karl said urgently as he embraced his mother once more. “And I will see you in a few days.” Then, he picked up his suitcase and, with one last backward glance, he marched quickly after the attendant and jumped easily onto the train.
The attendant led Karl down the aisle of sleeping compartments and entered one at the end of the train car. As soon as Karl was inside the coach, the attendant pulled the curtain around the compartment. Before leaving, he turned to Karl. “I’ll do my best to ensure that your trip is uneventful, sir.” With that, the steward exited the car, and Karl was alone.
He took a deep breath and sank heavily onto the small bunk. He removed his jacket, laying it carefully at the foot of the bed, and took off his shoes. Then he lay back on the bed and closed his eyes, realizing suddenly how weary he was. Anxiety did that to you; it sapped you of energy and drained you of the wisdom you needed to stay sharp. And Karl needed his faculties for this journey.
He could barely wrap his head around the knowledge that he was leaving his home country, perhaps never to see it again. But he didn’t want to think about that. Czechoslovakia had let his family down, had failed to protect them when they needed that protection most. Karl had tried to tell himself that he had little regret in leaving. But that wasn’t entirely true. The sense of betrayal and the anger at being forced from his home threatened to overwhelm him. Instead, he squeezed his eyes shut tightly, trying to block the images of Rakovník, his house, and the familiar life of his childhood there. The attendant had said that he would do his best to make sure that Karl was not disturbed. Would his best be good enough, Karl wondered. With luck, he would wake to find himself in Paris. If not… who knew what his fate would be? The train pulled out of Prague station. Karl fell asleep to its rocking. He awoke with a start. Where was he? What time was it? Karl stretched his cramped legs as cloudy images slowly began to coalesce. He felt the rocking motion beneath him, remembering that he was on a train en route to Paris. How long had he been sleeping?
A sliver of light slipped through the crack in the curtains at his feet, dancing playfully on his blankets. Karl sat up and cautiously pulled the curtain to one side. Swinging his legs over the side of the bunk, he stood up, balancing himself in the swaying train, and glanced out the window, trying to determine where he was. It was dawn and the sun was rising above a cloudless blue-gray sky. The train was traveling at a high speed and the countryside rushed by in a blur. In the distance, there were small houses and colorful fields picturesquely dotting the panorama. Here and there, Karl could make out small lines of traveling automobiles, trailing clouds of dust from the country roads. This landscape could easily be Czechoslovakia, Karl thought, but it was daylight, so surely he must have left his country behind hours ago.
Karl stretched his neck, eager to see a road sign, a marker – anything that might indicate where he was. A signpost suddenly appeared, speeding by the window too quickly for Karl to see. But shortly thereafter, another one rolled by announcing the name of the town in the distance. It was an unmistakably French name. With relief, Karl let out his breath and realized that he had been holding it for some time. The train had left Czechoslovakia. They were in France. If they had stopped at the border, he had not noticed it. He had slept through the night and no one had disturbed him. The bribe had worked.
There was a soft knock at his compartment door. It startled him in the wake of his momentary relief. Karl straightened his shirt and ran his fingers through his hair. “Come in,” he said, as the steward entered his room carrying a tray with steaming coffee and a small croissant with jam.
He set the tray on a ledge and tipped his hat to Karl. “I trust you slept well, sir?” he asked.
Karl nodded. “Better than I thought I would.”
The attendant smiled. “I promised that you wouldn’t be disturbed. I think you’ll be needing these.” He held out Karl’s passport and other documents.
Karl accepted the papers. “Thank you…for your help.”
“We’ll be arriving in Paris shortly, sir.” The attendant bowed once more, then turned and left.
An hour later, the train pulled into the Paris station and wheezed to a final stop. Karl grabbed his suitcase, checked to make sure he had his documents, and descended joyfully from the train into his father’s waiting arms. Victor enclosed him in a big bear hug. “Thank God you’re safe!” his father cried, unwilling to release his son.
Karl returned the embrace before stepping back to look at his father, startled at his appearance. Victor had aged dramatically in the four months since they had last seen one another. He was barely forty, yet he looked much older. Karl could see the signs of the stress and fear under which his father had been living in the deeply etched lines around his dull eyes, his graying and thinning hair, his stooped shoulders, and the slight tremor in his hands. Karl tried hard not to stare, but he was shaken by how worn his father looked.
If Victor noticed that Karl was taken aback by his appearance, he did not show it. He clasped his son’s face in his hands. “I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again.” His voice caught in his throat. “Come,” he said, pulling Karl by the arm. “I must call your mother immediately and tell her that the papers are good. She’ll be anxious to hear that you’ve arrived safely.”
A few days later, a jubilant Marie and Hana arrived in Paris to a joyful reunion with Karl and Victor. Their journey had not been without its drama, which Marie recounted when the family was settled safely into the small Hotel la Boétie where Victor was staying.
Two days after receiving the good news that Karl had arrived in Paris, Marie and Hana went to the Wilson train station in Prague to catch the overnight express train. Marie sought out and found the same steward who had attended to Karl on his journey. She spoke quietly to him while Hana looked on, and then handed over her travel documents and another substantial sum. The attendant happily accepted the cash and led mother and daughter to a private sleeping compartment on the train.
“I took care of the young man and I’ll do my best to take care of the two of you,” he said before tipping his hat, closing the curtains to their compartment, and withdrawing.
Marie felt confident that all would be well. “I knew that you had gotten through easily, Karl, so I couldn’t imagine that I would have any trouble. Besides, who would want to bother a woman like me traveling with my daughter? I was looking forward to waking up in France.” She and Hana began to settle into their small room and prepare for sleep when suddenly the attendant reappeared with Marie’s documents in his hands.
He hesitated at the doorway of their compartment and looked terribly worried. Marie couldn’t imagine what had happened. “Is there a problem?” she asked.
The man nodded, looked over at Hana and then back at Marie. “The passport is fine,” he began. “Your daughter is listed here as your dependant.” As Marie already knew, Hana did not require a passport. At only thirteen years of age, she could be listed on her mother’s papers. Marie waited impatiently. “It’s the Gestapo exit certificate,” the attendant finally continued. “There’s no mention of a daughter here. It could cause problems at the border….” His voice trailed off, leaving the rest to their imaginations.
Karl was stunned as he sat listening to his mother tell this story. This was just the sort of tight spot that he himself had dreaded might happen on his journey here. But true to form, Marie was undaunted by the predicament. She had faced innumerable obstacles in the past year and had surmounted them all. This one would not stop her.
Without blinking an eye, Marie reached into her handbag and pulled out a fountain pen. Then she reached for the Gestapo document and with the stunned attendant looking on, she wrote the words, “und Tochter” – and daughter – next to her own name on the papers. “And then I handed the document back to him and said, ‘I trust that will do.’”
The attendant stared down at the papers. Marie’s handwriting was in blue ink. The rest of the certificate was written in black. The blue letters stood out, unmistakably distinct from the rest of the document. It was like waving a flag above their heads and telling the enemy to come and get them! “I asked if there was another problem and the attendant didn’t answer. I kept my voice even and firm and I didn’t flinch. I wouldn’t let him see that I was the slightest bit worried about this.” Moments passed while Marie and Hana waited to see what the attendant would do. Finally the man, nodded, bowed slightly, and walked out of the compartment, leaving Marie and Hana alone.
“I have to admit, I didn’t sleep much on the train,” Marie concluded. “I was overjoyed to see the French countryside early this morning. And now, we are here!” She grabbed each member of her family in a fierce hug, her face exploding into the broadest smile Karl had seen in months. The family had been reunited. They had left so much behind in the country that had forced them out. But for the time being, none of that mattered. They were safe, they were free, and they were together.
A day after arriving in Paris, Marie and Victor received word that the Gestapo had come looking for Marie at the villa in Prague. Leila was taken into custody, threatened, and harshly interrogated about the whereabouts of the Jewish woman who had lived there. Leila had feigned ignorance and appealed to the Gestapo as an ethnic German from the recently acquired Sudetenland. She managed to convince the officials that she did not know what had become of Marie and she was released with only a verbal warning.