August finally brought some better news. Ella managed to get a letter out of Terezín. This letter survived. The tone is cheerful and brimming with details. She had managed to gain weight and was adapting well to her new life. She was trying to secure a job that would protect her from being transported “East” to camps that were known, at the very least, to be far worse than Terezín. She asked for the family to send twenty bekannte, a code word for German marks, as well as more clothing, and whatever food they could muster. She offered reassurance that all was fine for her and that, above all, they must not worry. However, the impression of a mother offering her family comfort is underpinned by the clearest instruction: Otto, Lotar, and Hans must do everything in their power to avoid being sent to Terezín.
Ella’s letter gave a much needed lift to the family’s mood, which had been brought close to hopelessness by the terror that followed the death of Heydrich. Together they formulated a plan to communicate secretly with Ella. It was difficult to find the right people, but some of the Czech gendarmes in the camp were open to persuasion or bribes in order to help the inmates, or at least turn a blind eye to what was happening behind the scenes.
The family started to use all the resources at their disposal to send whatever they could to Terezín to supplement Ella’s food, keep her warm, and provide her with the currency needed to obtain favors and barter. The logistics took time to establish; every link in the chain had to be infallible. Contacts had to have the necessary access to the camp and be willing to take the risk. It took weeks for the family to arrange things.
But Zdenka, being Zdenka, would not wait. She could not be dissuaded from action. As soon as she heard that Ella was in Terezín, she decided to enter the camp and find her. This was difficult, but nothing had ever seemed impossible to Zdenka. She was, at this point, already driving between the homes of various family members and friends, shuttling letters, medicines, and currency. She had already helped Lotar with the false identity card. But this idea established a new level of resistance more defiant and immensely dangerous. It could easily have cost her her life.
Zdenka during an afternoon stroll in Czechoslovakia, late 1930s
She asked questions of friends and sought advice from people engaged in resistance. It was difficult and very risky for a gentile to access the camp, but it was not impossible. Zdenka discarded her sleek modern skirt suits, covered her hair with a handkerchief, found a pair of comfortable walking shoes, and dressed in the plainest clothes she could lay her hands on. She stitched a yellow star onto her oldest coat. She had been told there were two options. She should either look like one of the few locals who entered and left Terezín, employed to do laundry and cooking for the SS, or like one of those interned. She chose the latter.
The easiest way in was to go just before noon and meet up with the groups of inmates who worked the fields surrounding Terezín. She would then walk with them as they headed back into the camp for their midday soup. The town had two main gates that were guarded on rotation by Czech gendarmes and German SS guards. Yet Terezín was self-administered, and the people responsible for counting inmates in the fields or barracks were Jews. The fieldworkers were led and monitored by a higher-ranking prisoner and usually returned at the time when the SS guards were on their lunch break. They entered via a gate near the gendarmes’ headquarters, which, rumor had it, was patrolled by friendly Czech guards. Chances were that the Jewish inmate in charge of the group of field workers would not denounce her, so Zdenka needed simply to blend in and avoid any contact with the SS.
Her knowledgeable friends had shown her a map of Terezín, upon which were marked the various entrances and barracks. She managed to locate the group of buildings that, Pišta reported, included Ella’s dormitory and workplace. Zdenka knew how to do it: she knew where to go.
She chose a busy weekday and packed an old cloth bag with items that Ella had requested: a black sweater, a wool dress, and a small pot of marmalade. She drove her car to the town of Bohušovice. There she borrowed a bicycle from a contact and cycled the remaining two kilometers to the fortified town of Terezín. When she spotted the country unit of workers in a field, she hid her bicycle in the nearby shed she had been told about. She donned her jacket with the star and joined them in their labors until it was time to go in for their lunch.
She walked into Terezín with a large group of inmates who pushed handcarts and lugged tools and sacks of potatoes. As if she entered the camp every day, she brazenly smiled when she walked past a gendarme with his bayonet. I do not know why they did not stop her. Once through the ramparts, she found her way toward the buildings that housed the workshops and eventually reached Ella. Zdenka had a limited amount of time to spare before she had to return to the fields with the agricultural workers headed for the afternoon shift. Otherwise, leaving the camp that day would be impossible. Zdenka’s written recollection paints her bold adventure as an easy feat. The reality is that there are very few historical accounts of people illicitly accessing Terezín.
Many years later, an elderly Zdenka remembered her encounter with Ella in the camp: Reunited, we touched each other’s hands and faces over and over in disbelief, we held each other and talked and wept. We cried out of joy and sorrow.
A few days after the visit, Ella sent a letter to Otto and the boys:
This encounter with my beloved Zdenka has brought me so many beautiful memories and such happiness it has shaken me out of my apathy. Today I am back at work and hopeful once more. I miss you all terribly. I live for you and pray that this will only be a short chapter and will not be in vain. I never thought I had it in me to be so brave. I’m on good terms with all and with none… I have never found so much evil anywhere before and I fear I will not be able to forget it as long as I live… It would be best if you never had to see this human misery… but should it come to it, remember to put as much as possible into the hand luggage, food, lard, soap, medicines, warm clothing, etc.
Thanks to the devoted and resourceful Zdenka, who had not thought twice about risking her life, the Neumanns once more had, albeit temporarily, a reason to be joyful.
CHAPTER 9 Vyreklamován
A delicate piece of paper headed with the word Telegramm in neat print was stored in the box that my father left for me. It is browned with time and missing a corner. To the left, it is dated November 18, 1942. The addressee is Hans Neumann. The faded handwriting, in German, is hard to decipher, but one can still make out within the body of the message the words Transport CC and the date November 17, 1942, the day before the telegram was sent.
Around November 12, 1942, a second transport notice had been delivered to the house in Libčice. This time Otto and Hans were instructed to present themselves at the deportation center in Bubny on November 17. Once more, they had less than one week to muster evidence to prove that they were indispensable in Prague.
This time, Otto, Hans, and Lotar knew the drill. They dispatched the frantic letters, made the desperate calls, and bombarded anyone with the power to help with nervous pleas. Again, Hans and Otto beseeched their employers to provide supportive letters. Hans succeeded in securing one from his boss at František Čermak. At Montana, Karl Becker, the original Nazi-appointed administrator, had left to fight with the German army. He had been replaced by the more empathetic Czech Alois Francek. Eager to help the family, Francek typed a letter emphasizing to the authorities the importance of Otto’s work. To capitalize on this momentum, Lotar took the letters straight to the Jewish Council offices himself and handed them to their friend Pišta.