CHAPTER 16

FATAL MISCALCULATION FEBRUARY 1939

Things are in order for the first time in a long while. We have our tickets and the bags are packed. Our trunks have already been approved and sent on ahead, and soon I will see Poldi again in Italy. My sisters are on their way to Shanghai. I am as relaxed as the current situation can allow.

There is a ring at the door one cold afternoon at the beginning of February. When I answer I am shocked to see Herr Berger standing there, his overcoat speckled with bits of newly fallen snow.

“Please, come in. You look upset. Is everything all right?”

My heart is throbbing so hard that I can hardly breathe. Could the Nazis have changed their minds and revoked our passage? What could have happened that would drive Herr Berger to come to the home of Jews in the daylight, endangering himself in this way? Neighbours are looking as they pass, pointing at the strange sight of a well-dressed Austrian standing in the doorway of a Jewish family.

He comes into the entranceway and closes the door behind him. “Here is the story, Fraulein,” he begins, taking a deep breath. “Your friend’s parents have decided to return the tickets that I was able to get for them. I had a call from someone whom I trust in the office. They had a call from Herr Kosiner that he was planning to give the tickets back. He enquired about their value, how much he could get for them and he is on his way to get the refund.”

“No, no,” I say in disbelief, “that can’t be right. Are you sure? What is there to do now?”

“I have a taxi waiting outside. I think we should get to the ticket office immediately and maybe it will not be too late to stop him.”

I pull on my coat and hat and follow Herr Berger out into the street, nearly falling on the snow-covered steps in my hurry.

We insist that the cab driver rush to the shipping company. Engrossed in worry I am silent as we speed through the city. I can scarcely believe this latest development in the continuing trial of nerves and patience. As we approach the curb, I see Herr Kosiner walking towards us. He is leaving the shipping office, and when he sees me jump out of the taxi he waves. He is smiling broadly, surprised and pleased that I have come.

“What has happened, Herr Kosiner? What have you done?”

“Why, Nini, it’s wonderful,” he answers. “You won’t believe how much money they gave me for these tickets.”

“But, no, you can’t have returned them for a refund. Don’t you know how valuable they are?” I am shaking with frustration and dread.

“Nini, you don’t understand,” he says, “they had an expiry date, and we still don’t have our exit visas confirmed. We would have lost the money within a few days. This way, I have it all so I can repay Herr Berger here, and then when we get the visas we can purchase new tickets.”

“No, my God, no.” Suddenly I notice several Gestapo soldiers heading our way.

“Fraulein Karpel,” Herr Berger says, taking me by the arm. He apparently has seen them as well. “It’s not safe for you to remain on the street here. Please, Herr Kosiner, I have a taxi. We must go. Kindly come with us and we will take you home.”

“Yes, of course, Herr Berger, only please explain to Nini that I did the right thing.”

After we have got into the cab again, Herr Kosiner takes his wallet from his inside jacket pocket and hands Herr Berger a roll of bills. With a satisfied grin he says, “You see, I can repay you now. This must have been the right thing to do.”

Herr Berger takes the money, shaking his head. “It would have been better, sir, I’m sorry to say, if you had exchanged them for another departure date. It was so difficult to get passage confirmed on any vessel for Shanghai. I don’t know how I can manage to do it again. As for the exit documents, I am processing them despite Nazi interference and will have them done in a day or so.”

Herr Kosiner hangs his head. He meant to ease the situation but instead he’s complicated it in a possibly irreparable way.

“Please, Herr Berger, please, I beg you to try again.” I turn to him in desperation.

This day has become one of the most sorrowful yet. Within just a week, we are planning to leave Vienna and now Poldi’s parents will not be able to join us. Every day I go to Herr Berger’s office and plead with him for news. Every day I return home dejected and miserable. When I see the Kosiners I have to tell them that there are no tickets to be had. Every vessel to leave for Shanghai is fully booked and despite Herr Berger’s best efforts we have no way to get them out.

At home we are prepared for our imminent departure, and Mama asks me constantly what will happen to the Kosiners. Then one day, just a few days before we are to leave for Shanghai, I am home alone. Mama and Willi have gone out just for an hour to get some food. There is a knock at the door. One of the Kosiners’ neighbours that we know very well is on the doorstep. My heart sinks.

“They have been taken away, Fraulein,” the young woman blurts out as soon as I open the door. She is shivering from the cold and distress as I show her in. “The Nazis, miss, the Gestapo. They had no papers, you see, nothing to prove that they were going to leave and the orders are in effect. Any Jew still remaining here with no evidence of immediate departure, well, you know, they are all being hauled away.”

Despite my distress, I remember to thank her – she is Gentile and even this visit to us was a danger that she did not have to take. “Helga, thank you for coming – you are brave.” But I need to know about the Kosiners. “Do you know where they have been taken?” I ask, trying to think clearly, my hands shaking so badly when I reach for her hands that we are both trembling together.

“Some camp called Dachau, one of those Nazi work camps where they have already sent so many. Maybe you can get them out, miss,” she suggests weakly.

“I don’t know, Helga, I don’t know.” I can scarcely think.

When she leaves, I collapse into Papa’s big chair. I am distraught and my mind seems paralyzed. For ten minutes or more I sit there, frozen. What to do? What to do?

Finally I call a taxi. Ordinarily I would not squander money on a cab when I could walk or take a streetcar, but this is a disaster. Jews with no designated departure arrangements are being taken away each day, dragged out in full view of the general population.

I head over to Herr Berger’s office. When he sees me, he knows the situation is dire. As soon as I walk in, my legs buckle beneath me and I lose consciousness. When I am revived, I see Herr Berger standing above me, obviously very worried.

“What, my dear, what has happened?”

“The Kosiners have been taken away. To Dachau. We can’t leave now, you understand? We can’t leave now.” I start sobbing and can’t catch my breath.

Herr Berger insists that I take a drink of cognac and I force it down.

“Now listen to me, Nini,” he says, using my name for the first time. “You and your mother and brother will be leaving as planned in three days. You will get out of Vienna. You cannot stay or all of you will be arrested. Do you understand me?”

I nod my head.

“I will do everything possible to get the Kosiners back from the camp, everything that influence and money can do. I will get them out, I promise you. I will get them out,” he says, determination in his eyes, his lips tightened in anger and frustration.

I go home once more, dreading having to tell Mama and Willi what has happened today.