Part 3 (1/2)

Paradoxically, the urgent appeals to the Allies, in particular those coming from Geneva, gave the n.a.z.is greater lat.i.tude for their actions. The information sent by telegram in March 1942 to London and Was.h.i.+ngton was so monstrous that it exceeded the ability of its recipients to comprehend it, and so the credibility of the messages was undermined-which suited the Germans just fine. It was easy for them to publicly brand such reports horror stories invented by their enemies and to turn to an old but effective instrument of their own: counterpropaganda.

What shape such counterpropaganda might take had long been decided, as is clear from a doc.u.ment issued by the Reich Security Main Office. When its head, Ernst Kaltenbrunner, suggested to his superior, Heinrich Himmler, that there be a ”dispersal of those in Theresienstadt over sixty years of age,” and requested permission to begin transporting five thousand Jews over the age of sixty, Heinrich Himmler had his secretary reply on February 16: ”The Reich Fuhrer SS does not wish these Jews to be transported from Theresienstadt, since this action might disrupt the general tendency for Jews to die quietly in the old folks ghetto of Theresienstadt.”25 Thursday, April 22, 1943I had a horrible earache and cried all night. I saw the ear doctor this morning-ear infection. I have to stop writing because it hurts too much.Friday, April 23, 1943I'm lying in sick bay. This morning they punctured my eardrum, and it hurt a lot. There are four of us in one room. I have my bed and my peace and quiet. Papa has a bad cold and won't be coming to see me for two or three days.Thursday, April 29, 1943I'm still in sick bay, there's a lot of seepage from the ear, but my fever is no longer so high. I'm reading a book of fairy tales that Auntie borrowed for me. I play with the doll that I borrowed from Trude. But most of the time I sleep. My other ear hurts a little, too.Tuesday, May 4, 1943I'm doing quite well today. They drew some blood from a vein yesterday, and twice from my finger. And again today. Dr. Stern has found something to indicate that I might have typhoid. Results will be back in a week. But I'm told that if I do have typhoid, it's almost over, since my fever has gone down.Papa received a package, but sad to say there was no fruit in it. I have such a craving for lemons and oranges. I haven't eaten an orange for a year, or a lemon in two months. I lie here while it's so beautiful outside. Everything is in bloom. The girls are still on vacation for Pesach, and Frau Prof. Brumlikova has been reading Victor Hugo's orange for a year, or a lemon in two months. I lie here while it's so beautiful outside. Everything is in bloom. The girls are still on vacation for Pesach, and Frau Prof. Brumlikova has been reading Victor Hugo's Les Miserables Les Miserables to them. They're going to draw more blood, and I will scream with pure anger to them. They're going to draw more blood, and I will scream with pure anger.I hope that the war is over in a year. People here come up with rumors that are so optimistic, and they make everybody happy. When they learn the truth, they are crushed. And in Theresienstadt that sort of news spreads like wildfire.

While Helga was in sick bay, several girls in Room 28 were making presents for Mother's Day. Ela carved the emblem of Theresienstadt out of a piece of wood. Judith would lay aside small bits of her scant daily rations, especially from the buns, in order to create a ”cake” from them. Others painted a picture or designed Mother's Day cards.

Little Zajiek-Ruth Schachter-stood sadly on the sidelines and watched her friends' activities. She had no one in Theresienstadt except her brother, Alex, who was two years older. Her parents had fled to Palestine, leaving both children behind in the Jewish orphanage in Brno-and her case was not unique. Many Jewish children ended up in orphanages even though their parents were still alive. Often the only choice adults had was to flee abroad illegally, but it was far too dangerous to take children along. And so many parents made the heartrending decision to place their children in the care of a Jewish orphanage and hope that the children would be able to follow them as soon as possible with what was called a ”youth certificate.” This hope was rarely realized. Zajiek had just turned twelve. She felt very much alone. Like all girls her age, she was at a crucial point in her development, when a mother figure is indispensable.

”Although Tella was very strict,” Helga recalls today, ”I did everything I could to gain her attention. I had a pa.s.sionate need for a mother's affection. I missed my mother very much.” Her longing for her mother comes up again and again throughout her diary. On June 9, 1943, she wrote: For several days now I've been tormented by thoughts that keep circling around Mama and the question of why she divorced Papa. I plucked up my courage this evening and asked Papa. He told me that he would rather not reveal the reason for their divorce just yet. But, as I already knew, they had not separated in anger. He even bought her an apartment after the divorce, and furnished it, and bought her an entire wardrobe when she left Vienna. And they still correspond regularly. He also told me that Mama was very worried about me (but not like Papa-very few people worry the way he does).People who don't know why Mama left for England think she simply left me with Papa. I know it was Mama who wanted me to go to Auntie in Kyjov, and Papa agreed that this was better for me. Back then, Hitler wasn't in Czechoslovakia yet. Mama was to go to England first and get herself established there. Then I was supposed to follow. But war broke out in the meantime.I started sobbing yesterday, without meaning to, and Papa began to cry as well. When we calmed down, he said: After the war you'll join your Mama, and things will get better for you. You'll learn how a young lady behaves.

Utopian dreams give strength, as do memories of enjoyable moments-such as the time when Lenka's mother had bought an old guitar for herself. Perhaps this was the last time that Lenka had seen her mother carefree and cheerful. Why else would she have written, with the help of her friend Handa, the following poem for her mother, which Handa had copied down in her notebook.

Once when times were very good You bought for fun, in music mood, An old guitarAt first the urge to strum was strong And you practiced very long On your old guitarLess and less you played by choice, Weaker got the guitar's voice Sometimes in and sometimes offTime flew past, you did not play, Not even touch it every day.

”I will tomorrow,” you did sayAlas, tomorrow never came Abandoned the guitar became You never ever played againTwo years have pa.s.sed, Fast and fleet Since your guitar fell asleepWill you with this gift remember All the beauty of its song All the days when your desire To play it well was very strongTranslated by Eva Gross, nee Weiss Zajiek (”Bunny”)-Ruth Schachter Lenka clung to her mother; Handa and Helga leaned on their fathers. Just knowing that they had a parent nearby gave them a vital feeling of security. Girls like Zajiek and Muka lacked that feeling of security; they lived in Theresienstadt without their parents. Eva Landa can still picture Muka-with those thick braids that made her look like an angel-on her thirteenth birthday, on April 30, 1943. A relative came to see her with a bouquet. Muka clasped the bouquet and wept.

Zajiek and Muka looked on wistfully as their friends prepared for Mother's Day. And then Zajiek came to a decision, which she described later that year, in October 1943, in her essay answering the question ”What has made the deepest impression on you since you have been living in the Girls' Home?”

It was Mother's Day. The girls were all busy making presents for their mothers. I felt so dreadfully out of place. I thought maybe I should give a present to someone I felt about the way I feel about my mother. And that someone-my subst.i.tute mother-is really two people: Frau Muhlstein and Tella! They've looked after me for a year and a half like a mother. Why shouldn't I thank them for that? I'd like to grow up to be like them.I made little gifts. When I saw Frau Muhlstein sitting at the table, I was filled with emotion. I slowly went over to her, and eventually gave her my present and a big kiss. Then I ran away. I could see how surprised and happy Frau Muhlstein was. But my joy was a hundred times greater than hers.Then I went to Tella. I was shaking all over. I wished her a happy Mother's Day and began to cry. Suddenly I felt very good.-For as long as I live I shall never forget Mother's Day in Theresienstadt.Home 28Ruth Schachter (Zajiek)My parents live in Palestine.Helga's diary continues:Thursday, May 6, 1943It is horrible here in Theresienstadt, a regular Babylon: Germans, Austrians, Czechs, Dutch, a few Danes, French; I even know a Finnish girl. There are baptized Jews and so-called Mischlinge [children of mixed religious heritage]. Mischlinge [children of mixed religious heritage]. A girl named Antonia, who bunked next to me, has had a very tough time. She arrived three weeks ago from Brno. Her father is Aryan, her mother Jewish. She's fourteen and was baptized in 1939, but her baptism is not recognized. She is here all alone and has few belongings. She feels uncomfortable in a Jewish environment. She longs to go home so terribly that she cries almost all day. Her father accompanied her as far as Prague, where they said their heartrending goodbyes. Now she lies in the bunk beside me A girl named Antonia, who bunked next to me, has had a very tough time. She arrived three weeks ago from Brno. Her father is Aryan, her mother Jewish. She's fourteen and was baptized in 1939, but her baptism is not recognized. She is here all alone and has few belongings. She feels uncomfortable in a Jewish environment. She longs to go home so terribly that she cries almost all day. Her father accompanied her as far as Prague, where they said their heartrending goodbyes. Now she lies in the bunk beside me.Monday, May 10, 1943I'm almost well again and have another reason to be happy today, too. Lea is finally healthy!! She has started to walk and she is smiling from ear to ear. She calls Papa Uncle Otto. She still drags one foot, but just one.I weigh ninety pounds. There are only two of us in sick bay. I hope I can see Lea soon. They drew blood from me two more times. Frau Professor Brumlikova came to see me twice, although she has an inflamed foot. She brought me Professor Brumlikova came to see me twice, although she has an inflamed foot. She brought me Les Miserables Les Miserables to read. Such a valuable book is a rarity here in Theresienstadt. In a couple of days our girls will be sent to work in the garden. I'm looking forward to it very much. I hope I'm all better soon to read. Such a valuable book is a rarity here in Theresienstadt. In a couple of days our girls will be sent to work in the garden. I'm looking forward to it very much. I hope I'm all better soon.Thursday, May 27, 1943I've been out of sick bay for a week now, and my ear infection is gone. For five days now I've been working in Josef's garden, but not with our girls. They work only half a day. I'm with another girl from my room. I like it quite a lot, but it's a little too much for me all the same. The nerves in my face hurt.Friday, May 28, 1943Today is my thirteenth birthday. We celebrated at Mimi Sander's. I broke down in tears, I don't know why. They prepared a little table for me with presents. Papa gave me a necklace with a silver pendant- the Theresienstadt coat of arms with a silver lion. Mimi made me a cake and gave me a bouquet of wildflowers. And from Maria I got a lovely package with birthday greetings, and thirteen little packages inside.Sat.u.r.day, May 29, 1943I'm lying in bed again, sick, and don't know what's wrong.

It was May, and spring was in full bloom when the barracks lock-down was finally lifted. For Helga, nothing really changed. She was still sick, as were many others. Judith Schwarzbart, for example, her roommate from Brno, was also on the mend from a serious illness, and was living in her father's shed in the backyard of the Girls' Home.

Before setting up a place to live in this shed, Julius Schwarzbart had slept in a little hut on the ramparts of the fortified walls that encircled the town. In the wide ditches between the ramparts he tended a large vegetable garden for the SS. It was the first garden in which young people were put to work, an arrangement that was the result of Julius Schwarzbart's initiative. In the ghetto, young people under the age of sixteen were not officially required to do their part, but in reality, many children were put to work at age fourteen, sometimes even earlier. Julius Schwarzbart had gone to great lengths to have them employed on farms wherever possible. That way, even though they were strictly supervised and could not lag behind, they could at least get a few hours of the fresh air they so badly needed.

That May of 1943 was not the first time Judith had spent recuperating with her father, who, along with her mother, took care of her and did all he could to restore his daughter to health. Her parents fretted that their previously spirited and healthy child kept falling seriously ill. Judith will never forget how she frightened her mother at one point by saying, ”Do you know what I'd really love to eat, Mama? Pumpkin soup.” Amazing! As a child Judith had hated this soup, which her mother regarded as a delicacy. Judith recalls her mother's reaction: ”And then she fell silent. I still remember it. Today I understand that my desire for pumpkin soup must have shocked my mother. She realized at that moment how undernourished I was, how terribly hungry I must be if I was demanding, of all things, pumpkin soup.”

Handa Pollak Handa Pollak was born in Prague on November 4, 1931. She spent her childhood in Olbramovice, a small village about thirty-five miles south of Prague, where her father owned a large farm. Her parents divorced when she was four. Handa's mother, Alice Pollak, was not meant for country life. She loved to travel and preferred life in the city. She enjoyed plays and concerts, especially when her cousin Karel Anerl, a well-known conductor of radio and theater orchestras in Prague, wielded the baton. Handa Pollak was born in Prague on November 4, 1931. She spent her childhood in Olbramovice, a small village about thirty-five miles south of Prague, where her father owned a large farm. Her parents divorced when she was four. Handa's mother, Alice Pollak, was not meant for country life. She loved to travel and preferred life in the city. She enjoyed plays and concerts, especially when her cousin Karel Anerl, a well-known conductor of radio and theater orchestras in Prague, wielded the baton.Handa grew up in the care of her father, a.s.sisted by a Jewish governess named Jitka. Jewish traditions were not observed in her family of a.s.similated Jews, who considered themselves Czech first and foremost. It was not until she started school that Handa learned of her religious affiliation. On her first report card, under ”religion,” the word ”Mosaic” appeared. ”I still remember how hard I cried, and I remember asking my father why my report card had something entirely different from the report cards of all the other kids. 'Yes, we are Jews,' he answered. 'But that's not so important. We're Czechs like everyone else. This just means we are of a different religion.' ”The events that were building up to a catastrophe in Germany after Hitler took power had little resonance in Olbramovice at this time, apart from rumors, wild stories, and crazy theories, all of which were easy to dismiss.That changed when the Germans occupied the Czech lands on March 15, 1939. A seemingly endless train filled with German soldiers rode through Olbramovice toward Prague. Restrictions of human rights for all Czechs ensued, especially for Jewish Czechs. The entrance gate to the Pollak farm now bore a sign announcing in large letters: IDI VEN-JEWS GET OUT!What followed was an odyssey with a recurrent pattern: Karel Pollak sought refuge with relatives in Prague. Handa lived with her father's sister for a while, then with a brother. In 1940 she stayed with her mother in Prague-Djvice. Eventually Handa returned to her father, who was staying with his sister Hanika in the Smichov section of Prague.In the autumn of 1941 Karel Pollak was a.s.signed to Theresienstadt as part of the ”construction commando.” This first transport arrived on November 24. It consisted of 342 young men, craftsmen and laborers, whose task was to build up the ghetto. ”They told us that the men could return home every weekend,” Handa recalls. ”But that was a lie. No sooner were they there than the gates were locked behind them. We could write only an occasional special postcard, which was then censored-thirty words in German and in capital letters.”Handa was without her father for about six months. ”I missed him terribly, and longed to follow him to Theresienstadt. In July of 1942 I finally arrived there, along with my aunt Hanika.”

Anna Flach Anna Flach (”Flaka”) was born on November 26, 1930, the youngest child of Leo and Elisabeth Flach, nee Kober, in the Polish-Czech border town of Polsky Tein (now Cieszyn). When she was a year old the family moved to esk Tein; shortly thereafter they moved on to Ostrava. Anna Flach (”Flaka”) was born on November 26, 1930, the youngest child of Leo and Elisabeth Flach, nee Kober, in the Polish-Czech border town of Polsky Tein (now Cieszyn). When she was a year old the family moved to esk Tein; shortly thereafter they moved on to Ostrava.In February 1937 the family resettled in Brno, on Adler Ga.s.se 13, where Flaka's father opened a wholesale zipper business. Flaka had her first piano lessons in Brno, and along with her sister Alice attended the renowned ballet school of Ivo Vaa-Psota. In 1939 she began her first singing lessons with the great master of voice, Professor Sigmund Auspitzer, who had trained Maria Jeritza, a world-famous opera star from Brno.Shortly after the Germans marched into Brno, Leo Flach's business was placed under the supervision of two ”Aryan trustees.” ”My father worked while the Germans kept watch on him and pocketed a lot of money doing it. We had to put up with them in our house every day. And from that point on the hostility grew worse.”In August 1940 Flaka's sister Irena, a.s.sisted by the Youth Aliyah, managed to board a s.h.i.+p illegally transporting Jews to Palestine. ”I shall be waiting for you to arrive soon, safe and sound.” These were the parting words that Irena wrote in her sister's poetry alb.u.m. ”But for now-best wishes. Above all, practice your singing, because your voice is your sole possession.”26But Flaka was less and less in the mood to sing. One disheartening event followed another. Once, during the period when she had to wear a yellow star, a woman stopped in front of her, pointed to the new white felt boots that her mother had just gotten for her, and screamed, ”You Jewish pig, give me those boots. Somebody like you shouldn't even own boots like that!””It was horrible. I still remember exactly how it felt. After that I was always afraid to wear those boots. But then it turned cold and I didn't have any others.” Another time two Germans in uniform walked past her. ”What a beautiful girl,” she heard one of them say, pointing at her. ”Pity she's a Jew.” That came as a great shock to Flaka. ”What's so bad about being a Jew? I still have the same strong, bitter feeling inside me when I think back to that. Or when I hear anti-Semitic remarks. It hurts me deeply. More than hunger and the other restrictions and prohibitions, it was the hate hurled at us, the unjustified humiliation that we were subjected to. That stays with you your whole life.”

Order of Wors.h.i.+p, Rosh Hashanah, September 1941 The Jewish New Year had arrived, but people barely risked going to the synagogue. The admonition to the congregation after wors.h.i.+p to ”behave with calm, restraint, and dignity, and not to create a stir” only added to the anxiety and fear during that September of 1941. If the Jewish community had been able to do so, it would have made itself invisible altogether.On November 26, 1941, Flaka's eleventh birthday, came the directive to ”join the ranks for transport.” ”That was my birthday present! I can still see my father bursting into tears. It was the first time I'd ever seen him cry.” Three days later the family set out for the a.s.sembly point. From there they were put on the first family transport from Brno, which arrived in Theresienstadt on December 2, 1941. Flaka was among the first children in the ghetto.

Judith Schwarzbart Judith Schwarzbart was born in Brno on March 2, 1930, and was a year old when she moved to Mrtikova 13 in Jundrov, on the outskirts of Brno, with her parents, Julius and Charlotte Schwarzbart, her sister, Ester, and her brother, Gideon. It was a large house with a garden that bordered on the woods. She loved it with all her heart, and even now has fond memories of it: ”There were so many trees in our garden, with all sorts of fruit: white, black, yellow, and pink cherries, apricots, and two kinds of plums. There was also a fruit that I've never found anywhere else in the world. My father called it mischpulle mischpulle, which was some sort of medlar. It was a brown, round fruit with one or two pits, not very large. The flesh tasted wonderful-a little like honey. Then there were currants-white, red, black. All kinds of apples. It was a garden of Eden-marvelous!”

This photograph was taken in Israel in 1948.

For Judith's father, the large lot was a dream come true, and also the ideal spot to pursue his interests. He was an inventive man, a pa.s.sionate do-it-yourselfer. One of his inventions, insulated bricks, guaranteed the family a steady income for several years. Judith's parents were Zionists, but they were not religious in any strict sense.”'You don't need to go to a synagogue to pray,' my father used to say. 'If G.o.d exists, he is everywhere.' ” Still, Jewish holidays were always celebrated, because Julius and Charlotte Schwarzbart believed strongly in making their children familiar with Jewish culture and tradition. Judith's mother, who was born in Vienna, saw to it that a holiday atmosphere prevailed and always served the most delicious foods. ”She was a wonderful cook-an artist. Her food was a dream come true!”In those days, a lovely old clock stood in a gla.s.s case in the living room, and engraved on it were these words in Hebrew: ”May this hour be a blessed hour in this home.” That clock and a beautiful Pesach plate are all that remain of her parents' possessions. Today they symbolize everything Judith had lost-childhood, parents, happiness, and the dreams of the first nine years of her life. Then the expulsion from paradise began. ”It started when someone at the Sokol Athletic Club27 said to me, 'You can't come here anymore.' Then my best friend, Teresa, came to me and said, 'My father won't let me play with you anymore. We're not allowed to speak to each other.' She came from a very pious Christian family, and we had often visited each other. Everything changed from one day to the next. I cried all the way home, asking myself, why? Why is this happening all of a sudden?” said to me, 'You can't come here anymore.' Then my best friend, Teresa, came to me and said, 'My father won't let me play with you anymore. We're not allowed to speak to each other.' She came from a very pious Christian family, and we had often visited each other. Everything changed from one day to the next. I cried all the way home, asking myself, why? Why is this happening all of a sudden?”School grew more difficult for Judith with each pa.s.sing day. She was the only Jew in her cla.s.s, and the animosity of her fellow students became increasingly blatant. Before the occupation, she had occasionally attended Catholic religious in struction, since the cla.s.s was held between other cla.s.ses. ”One day our religion teacher, a priest, said that Jews kill their firstborn sons to make matzos with. I stood up and said, 'That's not true. We have never killed a boy and we eat matzos every year!' But the other children believed the teacher, not me.

The Schwarzbart family home in Jundrov In 193940, after Jews were excluded from public schools, Judith attended the Jewish high school in Brno-an hour's walk each way. Home did not ease her sadness; her parents' anxieties were inescapable. How were they supposed to live? Julius Schwarzbart had his business license revoked and his car confiscated. Hoping for better times, he tinkered with his inventions and developed a shoe-polis.h.i.+ng machine. But no one showed any interest in it.Judith's happy childhood was turning dismal. Nature, which had once buoyed her youthful exuberance and dreams, became a refuge from her hurt and disappointment, and a place of increasing isolation. The only thing still holding her fragile soul together was her love for her sister and brother and for her parents, especially her father. ”I idolized my father. He was a calm, quiet man-he spoke only when he had something to say. When he saw people chatting for hours about silly things, he would say, 'They're just flapping their jaws!' ”One day neighbors denounced Julius Schwarzbart to the Germans, claiming that he was making brandy and doing other forbidden things. ”Men in uniforms and clanking boots came to our house three times, turning everything upside down-they didn't find a thing. Once my father showed them his medal from the war and the Germans just laughed at him. I can still picture them laughing. It was horrible. Nothing happened at that point. But our fear just kept growing.”In May 1942 the Schwarzbarts ended up on a transport. ”I still recall it exactly. I was glad to leave. The atmosphere was so charged-like dynamite. We were living on a powder keg. When we received our deportation orders, I told myself that now at least there would be peace and quiet.”* What Helga could not possibly have known at the time was that a large portion of the items sold in these stores had been confiscated by the SS from the deported Jews upon their arrival at the Theresienstadt checkpoint, the so-called sluice. Some also came from the possessions of those who had died, or from prisoners who had been sent on to the death camps. What Helga could not possibly have known at the time was that a large portion of the items sold in these stores had been confiscated by the SS from the deported Jews upon their arrival at the Theresienstadt checkpoint, the so-called sluice. Some also came from the possessions of those who had died, or from prisoners who had been sent on to the death camps.

CHAPTER FOUR.

Island in a Raging Sea.

Helga has chosen a lighthouse as her symbol for her Home,” Otto Pollak wrote in his calendar diary on July 5, 1943. ”She says it represents her life. The lighthouse is meant to light the way amid the stormy waves of life and lead her out of the darkness and into the light. I surprised my girl today with a drawing done by my comrade Bauer, the engineer, at the Home for the Invalids, showing the silhouette of a sail-boat approaching a lighthouse. Helga was overjoyed, hugged me, and told me that I understand her so well. This new emblem will adorn the wall beside her bed.”

This expressive drawing of Helga's personal emblem came at the right moment. The ”stormy waves of life” had churned up a worldwide typhoon of death and destruction and hurled Europe into darkness. In Warsaw and in Bialystok (Poland), in Kolomyja, Ternopol, and Lvov (Ukraine), in Skopje (Macedonia), in Lemberg (eastern Galicia), in Novogrudok (Belorussia)-wherever their war of conquest brought them, the Germans engaged in horribly b.l.o.o.d.y ma.s.sacres. On May 16, 1943, after several weeks of battle, the Warsaw Ghetto uprising was put down. The factories of death were running in high gear- Auschwitz-Birkenau, Chelmno, Belzec, Sobibor, Treblinka.

On the Russian front, near Kursk, the largest tank battle of the war had begun; the British and American armies were about to land in Sicily, while Allied bombardments of German cities began to intensify after May 30, 1942, when the English flew their first thousand-bomb attack on Cologne. Events were coming to a climax, and the tremendous tension that hung in the air was palpable even in Room 28.

Tella chastised her wards at a meeting of Ma'agal on July 9, 1943, for the lack of discipline in their room. ”If you don't pull together soon, there will be a catastrophe, and we shall have to introduce more severe punishments. Each of you in Ma'agal has slipped back by several points. You are inconsiderate and uncooperative, and some of you are egotistical as well. Be more tolerant and gentle with each other, but stricter with yourselves!”

Helga had crept back into her sh.e.l.l: ”Somehow I've become a bit of a loner here in Theresienstadt,” she brooded. ”I know that I've become careless, that I must improve. Am I weak? Ela is at her singing lesson now. It's already ten o'clock and she'll be back any minute. I'm going to say to her: I need a friend. Maybe it could be you! Do you want to be? I'll see how that goes.”

The very next day brought disappointment. ”Ela doesn't want to. I can sense it. She's trying to back away a little. It's probably my fault.”

The truth was that Ela simply had other things on her mind. She had a crush on Honza Gelbkopf from Home 9-a state that brought on a whirl of emotions and questions that Helga tended to shrug off. Lenka, Flaka, and Eva Landa showed far more understanding and compa.s.sion for these sorts of issues, since they had boyfriends of their own. Ela was gratified by their response.

And there was something else, too. On July 7, 1943, the last transport of children from the Prague orphanage had arrived in Theresienstadt. With it came Ota Freudenfeld, the legendary head of the orphanage, and his son, Rudolf. The arrival of this transport drew everyone's attention, especially that of the children who had lived in the orphanage on Belgicka Street prior to their own deportation. Decades later, Rudolf Freu denfeld would recall their arrival: As news spread through town that the head of the orphanage had arrived, the streets near the ”sluice” were lined with children. My father pa.s.sed through the crowd, happy to be among his children again. And they welcomed him the way you greet someone you hold most dear-with childlike love amidst all that misery.That evening, Rafik [Rafael Schachter] arranged for a concert performance in our honor, in one of the attics, of The Bartered Bride The Bartered Bride, with a piano instead of an orchestra. After the performance, I proudly pulled out the score for Brundibar Brundibar, and we decided then and there that I should begin rehearsing with the children.1 The news spread through the ghetto like wildfire, and it wasn't long before Tella sent her best musical talents to the attic of Boys' Home 417, where Rafael Schachter and Rudolf Freudenfeld were holding tryouts and making their choices among the many candidates for the various roles in the opera.

”There were three of us from our room-Flaka, Maria Muhlstein, and me. And we had to stand in a row and each had to sing up and down the scale, la la la.” Ela Stein has vivid memories of the casting of Brundibar Brundibar. ”When my turn came I shook with fright at the thought that I wouldn't sing well enough. But then Rudi Freudenfeld said to me, 'You know what? You'll play a cat.'-A cat in a children's opera? That was something extraordinary!”

Gus.h.i.+ng with joy, Ela brought the sensational news to her mother and uncle. ” 'A children's opera?' they said in amazement. They couldn't imagine what that might be. But they were so happy that I'd got the role.”

Maria Muhlstein had reason to be happy as well. She was chosen for the role of the sparrow; her brother Pit'a got the male lead role of little Pepiek. The female lead, Aninka, Pepiek's sister, went to Greta Hofmeister from the Girls' Home, Room 25; she had already sung in Smetana's Bartered Bride Bartered Bride and Verdi's and Verdi's Requiem Requiem. Zdenk Ohrenstein from Room 1, L 417, was cast as the dog.

The other roles were a.s.signed as well: a baker, a milkman, an icecream vendor, and a policeman.2 There were children who would play the people at the market and others who formed the chorus of schoolchildren. Among these were several girls from Room 28: Flaka, Handa, Zajiek, and Ruth Gutmann. There were children who would play the people at the market and others who formed the chorus of schoolchildren. Among these were several girls from Room 28: Flaka, Handa, Zajiek, and Ruth Gutmann.

The t.i.tle role of the evil organ-grinder Brundibar was given to Honza Treichlinger, an orphan from Plze. Rudolf Freudenfeld later recalled the manner in which this casting took place: ”He had virtually begged for the role. We became acquainted in the washroom. He came up beside me, pretending to wash his hands, and casually remarked, 'I've heard that you're looking for children for your opera. Can I come, too?' ”

Later, when the time came to cast the role of Brundibar, Honza came up to Rudolf Freudenfeld again and asked him in his special way, ”Could I give it a try?” From that moment on there was only one Brundibar-Honza Treichlinger.

A second and third cast of understudies were chosen for all the main roles. Stephan Sommer, the son of the Prague pianist Alice Herz-Sommer, enthusiastically practiced the role of the sparrow. Pit'a Muhlstein's brother Eli likewise studied the role of Pepiek, and his sister, Maria, rehea.r.s.ed as first understudy for the role of Aninka. ”She had a beautiful velvety voice,” Flaka recalls. ”She was so natural. A very different type from Greta Hofmeister, who was a little older than we were.”

In the days that followed, boys and girls came streaming from all corners to gather in the hot, sultry attic of Boys' Home L 417-Danka, Daa, Raja, Hanka, Sonja, Ruth, Eva, Lilian, Lisa, Hana, Drixi, Renate, Zdenka, Marta, Jii, Frantiek, Hanu, Petr, Pavel, Rudi, Karel, and Zdenk. For some of these children, the world suddenly seemed to revolve around nothing but rehearsals-and around Batik, their nickname for Rudolf Freudenfeld, who often arrived at rehearsals exhausted and bathed in sweat after a hard day's work in a stone quarry in nearby Litomice. Still, nothing could keep him from dedicating his evenings to Brundibar- Brundibar-although it certainly was not all that easy, as Rudolf Laub wrote in the newspaper Vedem: Vedem: Have any of you ever been a director and had to deal with fifty strapping boys and charming girls who are convinced that the more noise and fun during the rehearsals, the better? No, it's not easy, and I take my hat off to Rudi Freudenfeld, because throughout the rehearsals he got angry only a few times, and then calmed down again immediately. I would not have had that patience, and I doubt whether anybody else would have either.But some sort of aura held us together, the feeling that ”when it's finished, it'll be super.” We made progress, we got a better rehearsal room, and interest grew. Everybody began to look forward to rehearsals, and would tell his acquaintances with a certain pride, ”We're rehearsing a children's opera.”3 Of course the people who had taken on these young actors were themselves outstanding personalities who lent a special l.u.s.ter to the enterprise. Along with Batik, Rafik, and Gideon Klein, there were the play's set designer and artistic director, Frantiek Zelenka, and Brundibar's Brundibar's composer, Hans Krasa. The two of them kept a close eye on the rehearsals of the children's opera, and while Hans Krasa set to work reorchestrating the music according to the instruments and musicians available in Theresienstadt, Frantiek Zelenka prepared a modest set design and a poster announcing the upcoming premiere. composer, Hans Krasa. The two of them kept a close eye on the rehearsals of the children's opera, and while Hans Krasa set to work reorchestrating the music according to the instruments and musicians available in Theresienstadt, Frantiek Zelenka prepared a modest set design and a poster announcing the upcoming premiere.

Hans Krasa. ”His creative process seems effortless, somewhere between check and checkmate, but the result displays uncanny sureness.” These were the words Viktor Ullmann chose to praise the composer in 1928.

The rehearsals for Brundibar Brundibar generated considerable excitement-and disappointment as well. ”I remember feeling very hurt,” Eva Landa says, ”because I didn't get the role of the schoolgirl who throws her book in the air. I wanted so much to play it. But another girl, Hana Vohryskova, was chosen.” generated considerable excitement-and disappointment as well. ”I remember feeling very hurt,” Eva Landa says, ”because I didn't get the role of the schoolgirl who throws her book in the air. I wanted so much to play it. But another girl, Hana Vohryskova, was chosen.”

Eva was not the only girl who was feeling out of sorts in those days. Helga was crushed when out of the blue Rita Bohm, their new counselor, scolded her, saying, ”You are one of the first girls that I shall think badly of if you don't settle down at once.” All Helga had done was chuckle while Rita was talking about England. In reality she was hardly in the mood for laughter-Rita's descriptions of England had awakened a dreadful longing for her mother.

”Should I tell her?” she asked in her diary. ”I've got to explain it somehow. I really do like Rita an awful lot, and that's why this hurts even more.” Helga made herself talk it over with Rita. ”A quarter to eleven in the evening: Rita is no longer angry at me.”

Others were experiencing some of these same feelings, these emotional ups and downs. Friends.h.i.+ps formed, encountered their first snag, broke apart, and were then renewed. Jealousy played no small part in this carousel of friends.h.i.+p. No sooner had a girl shown another more attention than her old friend felt rejected, no longer loved. Misunderstandings, taunts, and defiance followed. Then came attempts at renewing the relations.h.i.+p and reconciliation. Friends.h.i.+p was everything for these girls-life, love, the future. A girl's own visions, dreams, and hopes were reflected in the eyes of her friend. They both drew energy from their relations.h.i.+p, took heart from it.