Bluish hues of summer’s twilight infuse the City of Light as the young man enters the pearlescent lobby of the bullet pocked hotel. The host is waiting.
“Ach, here’s the young student. I am pleased that you accepted my invitation to join me for a drink. So, you liked our Panzer tanks?”
“You still identify with them?”
“It’s dishonest to deny one’s past.”
“Not even possible in your case.”
“Ira, you are not as cordial as when we met this morning before the Hotel des Invalides.”
“My name is Ezra. You mistook my curiosity for cordiality when you introduced yourself, General Vogler.”
“I was an Oberst, a colonel. Today I am merely Klaus. Please join me for that drink. Ironic, I think, that those tanks captured during the Battle of Paris now sit as guardians before Bonaparte’s mausoleum?”
“The Liberation of Paris.
“Let’s not let semantics spoil our drink.
“It’s substance, not semantics.”
“Very well, Ezra. Still, you are here to have a drink with me.”
“I’m not sure why I’m here. Perhaps it’s morbid curiosity.”
“I could have walked away when I realized that you are an American Jew and you realized that I am a former Wehrmacht officer.”
“And you’ve come back to reminisce about the old days while sitting in the hotel where you invaders lived in luxury.”
“But I am here to take stock about some days that were not so good.”
“Not so good” for you, maybe, but it was horrible for millions of others.”
“I do not deny it.”
“And I’m sure that you won’t deny responsibility for your part in the horrors as you walk about this city and sit here ‘taking stock’.”
“You are very direct, a trait characteristic of your race.”
“We got the soft edges knocked off us.”
“Garcon, we are ready to order. Ezra, what will you have?”
“Vee-shie water. Never mind. I’ll have a beer.”
“We have many kinds of beer.”
“Dry, blonde, but not a German beer.”
“And for your father?”
“Touché. Pernod, S'il vous plait.”
“So, Ezra, you are a student in America?”
“A student of modern history.”
“Are you studying at a university?”
“N.Y.U. New York University.”
“Yes, I know what N.Y.U means.”
“And yours was … Heidelberg?”
“Do you see a dueling scar on my face?”
“Nah, I was ….”
“Just speculating. Not a good attribute for a student of history, assuming you are not merely one of new breed of American polemicists.”
“I like to think I’m serious.”
“But also biased, no?”
“I don’t think so.”
“We shall see.”
“Where did you go to school, university, Klaus?”
“Karlsruhe.”
“Wow!
“So, you know your German universities?”
“I know that one. What did you study?”
“Philosophy and engineering. It was engineering that got me into trouble.”
“Meaning it made you valuable to the war effort?”
“It was not possible to avoid service.”
“You could have refused, left Germany.”
“You are revealing your naiveté, Ezra.”
“Meaning you were a willing cog in the machine of National Socialism?”
“Is that a statement or a question? If the latter, it is a legitimate question, but also a naïve one. You say that you are a serious student, but you might ask yourself if your bias as a Jew has colored your powers of analysis.”
“It’s been righteously earned.”
“Of course, but it is bias none the less.”
“What am I missing?”
“Ah, you are asking the old Oberst to be your teacher now. Spectacular irony.”
“But, Klaus, you are so well qualified and have field experience in the subject.”
“You have not lost your Jewish sense of humor, Ezra. Of course, I am qualified to answer your questions, but I will not answer them directly. Instead, I will employ the Socratic method. You are familiar with that?”
“Of course, a good Jewish discipline, employed in Brooklyn households to torment young children.”
“Perhaps Socrates was a Jew and that is what really got him killed?”
“Klaus, you’re the only German I know with a Jewish sense of humor.”
“Perhaps I could do stand-up comedy in the Catskills?”
“You’ve been to America?”
“I read. I am a student of culture as well as of history.”
“You haven’t answered my question.”
“Which is it?”
“You have not been to America, or you haven’t answered my question?”
“You should be a lawyer, Ezra.”
“My family would like that. So, have you been to America?”
“Let us move on.”
“So, what did you do in the war, Klaus?”
“Many things.”
“Characteristic avoidance of questions about the war, Klaus.”
“No, just a bad question, Ezra. Too broad for a meaningful discussion.”
“Klaus, what did you do – in Paris?”
“I will go back in time, not as a rationalization or justification, but as an explanation.”
“Can you see my eyes rolling up into my head, Klaus?”
“I see only your rapt attention. You Jews are as much voyeurs of history as anyone, especially of your own. So, are you listening?”
“I’m listening.”
“National Socialism infected the best and the brightest of my generation as fiercely as a virus invades a patient without an immune system. We were easily seduced and readily succumbed.”
“I’ve heard all of this before.”
“Many Germans believed Hitler was our savior and avenger. Everyone, including the educated class, was hungry for both. You already know all the familiar explanations for German alienation after the Great War, the Stab in the Back from the Versailles Treaty, etcetera. Everyone felt the dishonor. And it was this hunger for restoring honor which Hitler fed on. He had a vision and a plan. No other politician had anything.”
“But you, Klaus, were educated in one of Germany’s best universities, and in philosophy no less. How could you have been seduced?”
“I am merely trying to explain how many Germans were seduced into joining what appeared to be a patriotic nationalist movement. After we were in, we could not get out. Many of us had to remain to preserve lives in the hope of building a better future after the war. And we did so at the sacrifice of our honor and humanity. I assure you that my passion was nationalism, not racial politics.”
“And what about all your good buddies in the Army? What about the SS?”
“Do equate me with the SS.”
“History has already done that, Klaus.”
“No, Ezra, propaganda, the movies, and the hubris of the victors have done that. Tell me, do you believe in the doctrine of collective guilt?”
“I’m guilty of it when it comes to the Holocaust.”
“If it is a doctrine that applies to Germany in the war, does it not apply with equal force and validity to other circumstances where the same behavioral dynamic is at work? For example, when it comes to Israel’s behavior towards the Palestinians.”
“I’m not going there. Let’s move on.”
“Okay. How is this? Some of my best friends are Jews.”
“I can’t believe you just said that!”
“Yes, it is a cliché, but in my case, it is true; for you, an inconvenient fact.”
“Come on. What self-respecting Jew is going to have a Wehrmacht Oberst as a best friend?”
“We will come to that, Ezra.”
“When did the Resistance and Free French fighters kick you all out of this hotel?”
“They didn’t kick us, or me, out of this hotel. I surrendered with the help of my French friends.”
“The French saved your asses?”
“Some French did. As I said, I was a soldier who wanted to live for a better future.”
“Most Jews hearing you would be reaching for their revolvers, to paraphrase a famous remark by Herr Doctor Goebbels.”
“Not if they knew my history in the context of my stay here and my surrender.”
“My stay here?” A quaint euphemism for the occupation., and a feint to change the subject.”
“I did not change the subject; I merely broadened the scope. The occupation would not have been so easy had it not been for the collaboration of the occupied.”
“Right, blame the victims.”
“Not all French were victims. Many collaborated with the occupation but not all. The French shout Liberty, Equality, Fraternity, but beneath the slogans the French care most about their creature comforts, including their national religion – Art. To the French it is eternal, not ephemeral. Individual people can be destroyed, but the French nation, the French identity will live forever through its art. The French were willing to surrender their honor to prevent the destruction of their art, their way of life, and especially for the preservation of Paris.”
“Is that why they collaborated?”
“Their desire to save and preserve their civilization was a great asset to us during the occupation.”
“What about the Resistance?”
“That will be for you to discover. And then you will meet another Frenchman, a French woman actually.”
“Another collaborator?”
“No.”
“A member of the Resistance?”
“No, she was not yet born.”
“More enigma stuff, Klaus?”
“No. You may yet learn something about the war, about this German and about yourself.”
“Listen, Klaus, we’ve been all over the map with questions about the war, but I feel I don’t have many answers. We started out with the tanks at Les Invalides, and now a drink but I know less than when I came in.”
“You think I have all the answers? I don’t and neither do you. You will finish with more questions than answers and you will be disillusioned about some of your old beliefs. That is healthy.”
“Can we meet again before we leave Paris?”
“It will not be possible.”
“Why, are you returning to Germany?”
“I will not be returning to Germany.”
“Why not?”
“I did not come here from Germany.”
“You said you had not been back to Paris since the war ended?”
“I did not go back to Germany after the war. My family was dead. The country was in ruins. There was nothing to go back to.”
“So where did you go?”
“I remained in France and worked.”
“Doing what?”
“I am a professor of philosophy at the university in Lyons.”
“Now I feel like a fool.”
“You will get over it.”
“Why did the French let you stay?”
“The French are a very malleable people. One day I am a villain; the next day I am a hero. Whichever least disrupts their comfort.”
“Here comes Pierre. Bon jour, Pierre, Ca va, mon ami?”
“Ca va, Klaus. It’s been a long time. Who is this?”
“A student from New York City.”
“Yes, I can see.”
“Sit down, Pierre.”
“So, what is the occasion?”
“A reunion. This is my first time back to Paris since we worked together.”
“Perhaps this is not such a good time for a reunion, Klaus.”
“Perhaps not, Pierre. Ezra here is engaged in research about the occupation. He is trying to separate fact from fiction.”
“Klaus, why here, why now?” Pierre implores. “I have not seen you for thirty years, and have just met you, young man. Allow me to give you a hearty Gallic hug. We French are all hands when we embrace.”
“Now that you are satisfied that Ezra is not wearing a recording device, Pierre, perhaps we can resume our discussion.”
“What are we discussing, Klaus?”
“The old days. Ezra is investigating the role of the some of the French in assisting the Germans with removals of Jews from Paris during the war.”
“Surely, young man, some of the French are accused of doing this, as you must know from biased studies and inflammatory cinema.”
“Ezra has done his homework. He wants to eliminate rumor where it may defame the reputation of the French. After all, it was the French under Napoleon who abolished the prohibitions against the Jews in the professions and the civil service.”
“But the occupation is such a delicate matter, Klaus.”
“Delicate for those who were in a position to know the facts.”
“Klaus, I don’t think….”
“Remain seated, Pierre. I am old and ill, but my memory remains vigorous. I am about to reveal certain events that occurred during the occupation. Here comes another guest. Ezra, Pierre, my wife, Estelle Lazarus.”
“I came as soon as I could.”
“Perhaps Pierre can tell us why I have chosen the Hotel Meurice for this reunion.”
“No!”
“Then I will tell you, Ezra. Pierre came to me here one day in July 1944. The Allies were breaking through at Normandy. The German Army was preparing to defend Paris. Pierre delivered an order from Wehrmacht headquarters ordering me and the troops to the train station in the eastern part of the city to establish a “defensive position.” My men and I went to the station. Pierre left before me and went ahead.”
“Klaus, stop this!”
“Silence, Pierre. I found Pierre at the station with a few Gestapo goons, and many Jews. There was no need for ‘defense.’ Pierre approached me. Pierre told me that he had orders from the SS before they moved west to stop the Allied advance.”
“Enough, Klaus. Not with the Jew here!”
“Sit!”
“The SS and the Gestapo had ordered Pierre to meet me at the station to deport the assembled Jews. I told him that was work for the SS. Pierre said he was just the messenger. Several Gestapo and a few police stood around, but there were not enough of them to carry out the deportation orders.
“Do not get up, Pierre. Ezra, you look fit, for a Jew from Brooklyn, so stand behind Pierre’s chair to assure that he does not bolt.”
“Gladly.”
“Pierre was zealous in his work. He scurried about under the watchful eye of the Gestapo and massed all the Jews close to the train carriages, without discriminating as to sex, age, or fitness. The sooner out of Paris the better. After the Jews were assembled on the platform, I ordered my men to make a devil’s inventory. Pierre stood fuming at the edge of the platform, much as he sits fuming here now.”
“You bastard, Klaus!”
“Shut up, Pierre. Ezra is not recording.”
“What about her?”
“My wife? I should kill you for impugning her honor.”
“But she’s a Jew.”
“Yes, Ezra, she is a Jew. You are surprised. We made the inventory. Only the oldest and the very fragile were selected for deportation because those would not survive the journey. Adults of childbearing age, the ‘fit’, were held back. I declared with great authority that these “fit” persons were prisoners of the Reich, to be put to work by the Army for the defense of Paris. The trains were loaded with the old and infirm and pulled away.”
“Why did your men go along with your ruse, Klaus?”
“You may find this difficult to understand, Ezra. My kamaradin were honorable men when it was dangerous to be honorable. For them, there was a difference between pledging loyalty to the army in defense of the Fatherland and doing what they saw as dirty racial murder. They remained loyal to me and to the ideals of an honorable Germany, no matter how many horrors had already been committed during the war in the name of German honor.
“Pierre did not report me to the SS, but later continued to round up and deport Jews without involving me. Thousands of Jews, including children, were deported, and murdered with his zealous assistance, before that day and after. And now you may go, Pierre. No, Ezra, lower your hands. You are a scholar, not an avenger.”
“Good riddance to all of you. I hope you rot in hell, Klaus. And you too, Jew boy!”
“The air is suddenly fresher. Just the three of us now. Two Jews and the old Oberst.”
“Klaus, a Jew married you?”
“Yes, Ezra, I am married to a French woman who happens to be Jewish. The legacy of Napoleon. Citizens of France first, and Jewish by faith.”
“She converted?”
“No, neither she nor her parents were religious Jews. They were secular French Jews.”
“You married a Wehrmacht officer?!”
“He saved my parents to be. My parents and I owe our lives to him. I found a mensch, an honorable man who happened to be German. My parents introduced us. Klaus protected my parents and other Jews he had rescued until Paris was liberated. My parents stayed upstairs in this hotel with Klaus and his men. They could see Pierre down on the street telling my murderous countrymen to go upstairs and kill the Germans, to eliminate witnesses. The French fighters learned that my parents and other Jews were upstairs with Klaus, assumed they were hostages, and thought it was wise not to attack. So, the French fighters waited until the Americans came. My parents went to the Americans and arranged a surrender. Klaus was responsible for saving the lives of many American soldiers. The French realized this and arranged for Klaus to remain in France to help find collaborators. It was not long before my country tired of the effort and buried the entire affair. Pierre eluded us until recently.”
“And that, Ezra, is the story. Did you get it, Estelle?”
“Yes, all of it, on tape.”
“What?”
“Klaus’ recital of the facts of what happened at the railroad station and Pierre’s role. And Pierre’s protests and non-denials.”
“My last gesture on behalf of justice, Ezra.”
“There’s so much more I want to know.”
“Ezra, we will not meet again. I am ill and will soon die. You have your dissertation. Additional information is in my office at the university in Lyon. I ask only that you dedicate your dissertation to the victims, and to the truth. And now I have one last act to perform as a soldier. I am going to Pierre’s apartment and with the last strength remaining in my body I am going to kill him with my bare hands. On my way I will salute those tanks at Les Invalides that brought us together. Auf Wiedersehen.
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