Out of Vienna

VIENNA: APRIL 5, 1938

It was an ordinary Tuesday morning, except that Vienna was inundated with Nazis. The sun was shining, a little snow remained on the side of the streets, and spring was not far away. My father awoke, got dressed, and went into our dining room where Katerina served him bread and coffee. With rationing, his usual breakfast of sausage, eggs, and rolls with butter and jam was no longer possible. When he finished, he said good-bye to my mother. My father left the house, got into his American made 1931 Erskine Studebaker sedan, and drove to his office. I was already at school, having been driven there by Johann, who was taking me there these days because it was safer. Johann worked full-time at my family’s shoe factory as a driver. He was not Jewish and had a red-white-and-black swastika flag on the left front fender of his car.

As she watched my father leave for work, my mother thought about her plans for the day. It was her regular Tuesday lunch and bridge day at Marianne Vogl’s. After the Anschluss, she and her friends stopped playing bridge and attending musical performances. However, my mother still planned to visit Marianne for coffee. Since Gretchen, the nanny, had left, she planned to take Peter with her.

It was 8:30. My ten-week-old brother had been up at 5:00 for a feeding and had gone back to sleep. My mother heard him gurgle in his crib and went to his room to nurse him.
Five minutes later, the doorbell rang, and my mother called to Katerina to answer the door.
Katerina looked through the security peephole.

“Yes, what do you want?” asked Katerina, looking out at several men dressed in black civilian coats and hats. They wore red armbands with a black swastika on a white background.

“Gestapo!” one of the men shouted. “We are looking for Robert Weiss. Open!”

“He isn’t here.”

“We’re coming in. We are going to see for ourselves. Open the door.”

When Katerina removed the security chain, one of the men pushed the door open and entered the house. Two others followed.

My mother overheard the conversation. She stopped nursing Peter, placed him in his crib, and went to the front door, where she was immediately confronted by the three men. Scared, she became pale and dizzy and held on to the doorframe. She recovered quickly, knowing she had to be strong to deal with these men.

“What do you want?” she asked.

“Is Robert Weiss your husband?”

“Yes,” she replied.

“Where is he?”

“He left for work.”

Two of the men began searching the apartment, room by room. Satisfied that my father was not there, they left, saying nothing to my mother. On the way out, one of the Gestapo turned to Katerina.

“Get out of here and stop working for these Sow Jews, or you’ll end up with the rest of them,” he said. “Start packing and get out!”

My mother sat down in the living room. Katerina said nothing. My mother telephoned my father. He had not yet arrived at his office.

“Please,” said my mother to the receptionist, “have Herr Robert call me right away. It is very important.” Then she cancelled her plans for the day.

She went back to Peter to continue nursing. But she couldn’t. She made several attempts and realized she had no milk in her breasts. She carried Peter into the kitchen, took some milk out of the icebox, poured some into a baby bottle, placed it in a pot of water, and warmed it on the stove. She then gave Peter his first bottle.

Katerina came into the kitchen carrying a suitcase in each hand. She said an abrupt good-bye and left. My mother sat down in the living room with Peter on her lap. She telephoned my father a second time. He had still not arrived at his office.