I endured this imbecilic drivel in the hope of picking up a morsel about developments in Nazi technical capabilities. I tried to get her to move on from her racial pontification and talk more about her boss.
“Von Straelborn seems worried lately. You are always working late. I hope he is not making your life too difficult. Is he all right?”
“He is just busy and under a lot of pressure. They are in the middle of developing some finishes for new planes that will fly faster than anything before.”
Having gotten my morsel, I immediately started rambling on about office gossip. I did not want her to think I was too interested in her boss. And then, as usual, I escaped as quickly as I could.
* * *
I asked Dr. Högn what innovations the Germans were accomplishing in aviation. He got so excited he decided to draw me a diagram of a jet plane. I kept this paper and put it together with some notes of the new camouflage system that the company was developing and passed it on to the Dutch contact after work the next day. He seemed very pleased. He never spoke to me much, to avoid arousing suspicions, but I could see gratitude in his eyes.
With Traudl in Bavaria, it was easy for me to stay late at the factory and try to get more details for the Dutch student. Dr. Högn was so pleased with me he almost treated me like one of them. One evening as we were finishing, he announced proudly: “Now it is true that we are going to win this war. The führer is finally going to have vengeance weapons that will make us unstoppable, and we are working on their development. You will work with me on this project. We must develop a finish for the weapons that will only allow high-pressure gases to escape from the exhaust.”
A few days later some men that I had never seen before brought a cylinder containing a dark solid mass. We covered it with our experimental concoction, leaving the bottom part uncovered. We left it to dry. The next day when I arrived, the men were already there, chatting with Högn. The youngest held a notepad and looked at me studiously. The other brusquely asked me to light up the uncovered base of the cylinder. They took a step back as I held out the flame. As I focused on the cylinder, they disappeared from my sight. The cylinder seemed to need a lot of heat and initially would not ignite. As I looked around, I realized that I was standing alone. The two men and Dr. Högn, the brave Germans, were in the corners of the room, on their knees, crouched under tables. I was aware of the danger of an explosion and the fact that I was being used. Being a Slav made me disposable. For a second, I hesitated. Could I refuse the role of guinea pig? But of course, I didn’t have that choice. I pretended to be calm and lit the flame. The cylinder finally ignited with a flame so intense the whole thing propelled forward and fell with a crash to the floor. It hadn’t lit properly and yet the force was extreme. I turned off the gas ignitor that was still in my hand. I spoke loudly with an attempt at authority.
“It is clear that this is an effective coating for a propellant rocket with liquid fuel.”
The other men rose to their feet and walked grandly toward me, somehow inflated by my assertion, as if they had never been cowering on the ground. “This is excellent,” the one with glasses boasted. And then to Högn he said triumphantly with a chuckle: “Wernher von Braun was correct. We will carry out proper, bigger tests in Peenemünde. Perhaps your team will be sent to help with the application of the lacquer there.”
That same day at lunch I signaled to my Dutch friend to meet me. As we walked aimlessly on the Berlin sidewalks, I told him about my morning. I had no papers for him, but it was the first time that his face betrayed intense surprise and interest. We agreed that next time I would obtain whatever documents I could and pass them to him folded inside a book.
A portrait of my father, composed and elegant, was among the papers in the box. A historian in Berlin in 2018 pointed out the pin on his lapel. It was the official corporate insignia of Warnecke & Böhm that was positioned to the left above his heart. The photograph was taken in 1944, when Hans was twenty-three years old. It would have been the photograph for his employee file with the firm. His head is held upright and proud, and he wears that perfected half-smile of Jan’s.
It seems to me, though, that if you look closely, you can see fear in his eyes.
CHAPTER 15 Charades
One document from my father’s box seemed problematic as I worked on a time line of his life during the war. The yellowing form, issued by the German District Court in Prague, stamped with the swastika on October 5, 1944, made no sense. It was addressed to Johann (the Germanized version of Jan) Šebesta, chemist at Tassostrasse, his registered address in Berlin. The form stipulated that a fine was to be paid as a result of the court case against him. Jan lived in Berlin from 1943 onward. Why would a case have been brought in Prague in 1944 against a man who did not officially exist?
His writings explained.
Dr. Högn called me into his office. As I entered, I was struck by the bumptious grin. His chubby fingers clasped in self-importance, he seemed very proud as he muttered, “Ahh. I have a task for you that will bring you great pleasure. We have some issues with suppliers in Prague. This is not really your field and I’m sure they could be sorted out by someone else here, but I thought you’d like to take the opportunity to visit your home.”
I tried to absorb the news with the open joy that he expected. In reality, I was terrified. I could not go to Prague and pretend to be Jan. There were lots of people there who would recognize me. Under what name would I stay and where? I could not possibly spend time near the factory. I could not risk being seen. People there knew I had absconded from a transport. They knew I was wanted by the Gestapo. There would probably even be a reward for information on my whereabouts. Someone, anyone really, could turn me in. But I couldn’t betray my terror, so I smiled broadly and countered, “Dr. Högn, thank you, it is truly so kind of you. But I don’t think it’s my area of expertise. I am no good with people.”
“I know,” he said, coming toward me. “But you’ve been doing a good job, and I think you’ll enjoy going to see your old Bohemian friends.”
He patted my back. I felt like I was going to collapse.
“You will travel as the company’s official envoy next week and you can stay for a whole week.”
“Thank you, Herr Dr. Thank you for the great news.”
I could see no way out. I had to go. I shared my fears with Zdeněk. He was scared for me too but agreed that there seemed to be no avoiding it. Jan Šebesta would have to return to Prague.
As before, I decided to travel on the night train. This time, though, I could not travel first class. The carriages were more than half-empty. People didn’t really want to move unnecessarily in the middle of a war. It was safer to stay close to home. When I had taken my seat, I put my head down and then strained to peer up to scour the other faces for familiarity. I grew calmer as I realized that I had not seen any of the people in my compartment before.
I had an official travel permit and a German identity card. I kept on telling myself there should be no problems this time. There was no need for the cyanide capsule to be taken out of my briefcase. Everything went smoothly, and I managed to sleep a little after we had passed through border control. As we had agreed in our brief telephone call, Míla was waiting for me at the station. She tried to embrace me. I pushed past and grabbed her hand to leave the terror of a public space as quickly as possible. She drove me directly to the small apartment where I had hidden with my brother and Zdenka after my parents had been sent away. There, Zdenka met us and greeted me with an enormous embrace. She handed me a bundle of letters and assured me that my parents, Lotar, and she were all fine. She whispered over and over that I must be careful. We determined it would be best if she and Lotar stayed away. We were desperate to see each other, but simply could not take the risk of someone following them or spotting me. I phoned them every morning and evening, to reassure myself that they were well and close.