Page 10 of The German Mother

‘My dear fellow,’ interrupted Viktor, ‘I didn’t know they had attacked your offices – what exactly happened?’

‘It’s not really suitable party conversation,’ said Auer. ‘I don’t want to alarm the young lady.’

‘I don’t mind, sir. Please tell us,’ Leila insisted.

‘Well…on the night of the putsch a group of Hitler’s thugs arrived at our offices, demanding entry. My business manager, Ferdinand, who lives in the flat on the top floor, came downstairs and was held at gunpoint until he agreed to open up – the poor man was terrified. Once the gates onto the street were unlocked about two hundred of Hitler’s storm troopers poured into the courtyard, armed to the teeth with pistols, rifles and even hand grenades. The place was completely surrounded and Ferdinand had no choice but to open the main doors. Once inside, they ransacked the place – cutting the phone lines, smashing desks, knocking over filing cabinets, and throwing ink on the walls. After smashing all the panes of glass in the windows with their rifle butts, they threw our papers and files – even our records with details of our subscribers – out into the street and set fire to them. They stole our typewriters and quite a lot of cash. Then they broke into the garage and tried to steal the car. Fortunately they couldn’t get it started, but they took the tyres.’

‘What about the printing presses?’ asked Viktor.

‘Ah…well, they tried to take them – I hear they were intending to hand them over to a more sympathetic newspaper, but a policeman finally turned up and interrupted their orgy of violence. After that they decided to storm my apartment.’

‘No!’ said Leila.

‘I was not at home that evening – I’d been tipped off they were looking for me, and was staying with my lawyer that night. But my wife and family – two daughters and my grandson – were at home. Naively, I had assumed that if they found I wasn’t there they’d leave. But I underestimated them. They held my poor wife at gunpoint, demanding to know where I was, and where we kept valuables – that sort of thing. They ransacked the apartment, and woke up the little boy who was terrified. My daughter kept asking them, “what are you looking for? Tell me, and we’ll give it to you.” They opened the safe but there was nothing in there except a few papers – at least nothing of any real importance. Nevertheless, they seized everything they could and left, shouting at my daughter, “We are the masters and we govern now.”’

‘How awful,’ said Leila, ‘your poor family. My father’s neighbour was attacked that night too. His shop was all smashed up.’

‘Was he taken hostage?’ asked Auer.

‘No, fortunately.’

‘He was lucky. Sixty-four Jews were taken that night – and held at the bierkeller.’

‘I didn’t know,’ said Leila, shaking her head. ‘I’m just grateful that Hitler is in prison now. Surely, he’ll be tried, found guilty and put away forever. Won’t that be an end to it?’

Auer smiled. ‘I don’t think it will be quite that simple. He has amassed a big following. People are angry – they have no jobs, they feel dispossessed, voiceless. It’s easy to blame others – in this case, the Jews. Hitler represents something they want to say, something they feel…almost viscerally.’

‘But not everyone feels that way, surely?’

‘No. The intelligentsia don’t agree with him. But things are finely balanced. His popularity has grown remarkably since he first came on the scene. He’s got the judiciary in his pocket. You know his other name for us – at thePost?’

‘No…’

‘“The Poison Kitchen”.’

‘But why?’

‘I think he’s trying to suggest we’re mixing up a brew of poison against him.’

‘And are you?’

‘No, not really. When I began in journalism, I thought it was so simple. Basically, one just tells the truth. But Hitler and his followers lie all the time, and, in order to fight back, I too have had to lower my standards slightly. Sometimes a story comes my way that I know will damage Herr Hitler. In my youth I’d have looked for a second or third source to confirm it. But nowadays I’ll just print it. I have to use everything I can to fight that man and his thugs. If that’s poison, so be it.’

‘He often uses that word – poison – about Jews, doesn’t he?’ said Leila quietly. ‘The eternal poisoners of the world – that’s what he calls us.’ She fell silent.

Viktor took her arm. ‘Come on now, Leila, none of that. Hitler’s just one man – a nasty, vicious little crook of a man, but still just one man. We can’t let him intimidate us.’

‘But he’s not just one man, is he, Viktor?’ said Auer passionately. ‘He’s a movement…and it’s growing, believe me.’

Leila could feel tears welling up in her eyes, and wiped her cheek with a finger.

‘Perhaps we ought to change the subject, old boy,’ said Viktor, ‘this is supposed to be a party.’

Auer nodded. ‘Of course – forgive me.’ He smiled sympathetically at Leila.

‘So, tell me, will you give Leila a job?’ asked Viktor enthusiastically.

‘Viktor!’ Leila blushed. ‘You shouldn’t…’