'Das Haus' the House and the Son of the Rabbi. Sean Ryan Stuart
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is there, please?” When no one answered, he asked again.
“Hello, who is there?”
“Machen Sie auf! Geheime Staatspolizei (Open up, German Secret State Police, AKA GESTAPO).” Answered the rather subdued voice from the other side of the door.
Franz was horrified, but he could not figure out what they wanted with him at this hour of the night? Franz attempted to peek through the peephole, but the porch light was not working. Strange he thought. Why is the light not working? He eventually mustered up enough courage and opened the door.
Johann Krieger who was hidden in the shadows, immediately shoved his way past Franz, the porch light bulb still clutched in his hand. His actions were so swift that Franz was unable to react until Johann was well in to the hallway. Johann instructed Franz to quietly close the door and turn off the hallway light. When this was done, Johann turned and faced Franz, handing him the outside hallway bulb as he did so. Franz was totally taken aback by this strange action. Both men looked at each other for a few seconds, and Franz finally murmured.
“Who are you and what do you want?” Asked a now trembling Franz.
The mysterious figure stood in the frame of the doorway and glared at Franz. “How dare you speak to me that way?”
“Shut up you fool, you are going to wake up the dead!” Answered the Gestapo man.
Franz noticed that the stranger was wearing a black leather trench coat, a Nazi party officials pin and had a white and black swastika armband around his left arm. This Gestapo agent impressed Franz. He looked the part, thought Franz as he glanced up and down. It took Franz a few more seconds to completely gain his self-control. When he did, he observed a tall blond man in his early forties, with striking blue eyes. Good looking at one time, but he now carried a horrible seven-inch scar from the corner of his left eye, downwards to his jawbone, and series of smaller scars radiating from his eyes upwards towards his hairline. The disfigurement was so complete that Franz could not help, but stare at him. Franz thought, he had experienced war, but this man had experienced hell!
Before Franz could do or say anything else, the figure reached in to his coat pocket and pulled out an oblong metal disk and flashed it before Franz’s face. The sudden motion made Franz jump back in terror. He thought the man might be pulling out some type of weapon.
“I said Gestapo, and that should be enough reason to let me in, you fool.” Blurted out the Gestapo agent.
“Please forgive, Sir. I was a little surprised by your actions and this late visit. What can I do for you?” Asked the rabbi.
“It’s not what you can do for me, but what I can do for you.” Replied the still unidentified man.
“Do you think, we could perhaps go into your living room and talk?” Asked the Gestapo man.
“But of course Mein Herr, I am terribly sorry.” Answered Franz as he pointed to the living room.
Franz led the way down the hallway into the living room. It was small, but yet cozy. The large metal potbelly stove was still purring heat, and it gave the room a warm and comfortable feeling. The Gestapo agent looked around the room and noticed several interesting items on the far wall. On top of the cupboard were several military decorations, photos, awards and two regimental battle flags. Additionally in a glass case, there were two high ranking German medals and the written citations to those medals.
“So you are a veteran? Are you?” Asked the Gestapo man with a sneering tone in his voice.
“Ja, that is correct. I served from 1914 to 1918 as a Regimental Sergeant Major in France.” Replied Franz, his chest expanding with pride.
“I see you were awarded the Iron Cross First class?” Asked the stranger.
“As a matter of fact, I received that award twice.” Replied the now boasting Franz, as he waived his hand over his many awards.
“Quite a honor for a Jew. Don’t you think?” Mocked the scarred man.
“I am a German citizen first, and a Jew by birth, religion and heritage. What does my religion have to do with my military service? My family has lived in this area for almost three hundred years, and many of my ancestors also served in the armed forces with distinction.” Stated Franz in a rather forceful tone.
“You are still the same stubborn Sergeant Major, I knew in France.” Replied the now smiling Gestapo man.
“France? France? Do I know you? Did we serve together in Reims?” Asked Franz.
“Yes to all the above. As a matter of fact, I am the reason you won that second Iron Cross, you fool. Don’t you remember the last attack on Fort La Bombelle? It’s me! Dieter Krieger, your lieutenant!” Stated the scarred stranger.
“Oh my God! It’s been so long. I did not recognize you. We, we, had heard you ended up in a French P.O.W. camp after the war.” Replied Franz.
“No news from you in nearly twenty years, and now this?” Stuttered Franz, as he extended his arms out towards his old comrade.
“Well it’s true. But they treated me pretty good, except for the scars. I guess I can’t complain, they saved my life after all. After the war and the long stay in their hospital, I just did not want to come back looking like this. I ended up in Munich, and drifted around until I met some old friends from the 316th Bavarian Reserve Regiment. They helped me out, and eventually I joined the National Socialist German Workers’ Party, AKA NSDAP. Later to be known as the Nazi Party, of course.” Finished Johann Krieger, almost out of breath.
“Well it sounds like you have had an exciting life, but what brings you back home to Niedergeyer this evening?” Replied Franz as he pointed to the large overstuffed leather chair near the stove.
Johann took the hint and made himself comfortable.
He seemed to be at a lost for words, until Franz reached into the cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Dornkaart corn liquor and offered some to Dieter.
“Here my old friend, this should help warm you up.” Quipped Franz as he poured a generous portion of the powerful drink into a large tumbler.
“Thank you, I needed that.” Offered Johann as he raised his glass towards Franz.
“Prosit (cheers)!” Replied Franz, as he stood up.
“Cheers to you my old friend. I am really happy to see you again, but I am sure that this nighttime intrusion is not a social call? Is it now?” Asked an inquisitive Franz, his eyes looking straight into Johann’s face.
“No, you are correct in your assumption. I don’t know where to begin? I am actually stationed at the party’s headquarters office in Dueren. We received orders today from Berlin to take action against all Jewish agitators, their businesses, homes and synagogues.” Stated a somewhat subdued Johann. His voice quivering with emotion.
“What do you mean? Take action? Asked a troubled Franz.
“Where have you been for the past six years? Don’t you know what is going on in Germany? Our Fuehrer has ordered us to round up all the Jewish troublemakers, and that includes you Franz!” Stated an obviously distraught Krieger.
“What are you talking about? Troublemaker? I am a loyal German citizen, and I have never done anything wrong, or for that matter caused any trouble in my entire life.” Complained Franz, as he suddenly sat down to catch his breath.
Johann stared at him, knowing full well that his old friend was right, but there was nothing he could do about it, other than to warn him.
“Franz, get a grip on yourself and face reality. No matter what you say or believe, the powers to be are going to take action. You are powerless to stop them! Listen to me! Tomorrow, I will be back with some of my comrades, and I will be forced to burn down your synagogue and arrest anyone who gets in our way!” Stated a somewhat reluctant