“What if Germany loses?”
Colonel Brinkmann allowed a small smile to play on his lips. “We both know that cannot happen, Frau Blackwell. The United States is wise to stay out of Europe’s business. I hope it continues to do so.”
“I’m sure you do, Colonel.” She leaned forward. “I’ve heard rumors about Jews being sent to concentration camps and being exterminated. Is that true?”
“British propaganda, I assure you. It is true that die Juden are sent to work camps, but I give you my word as an officer that they are being treated as they should be.”
Kate wondered exactly what those words meant. She intended to find out.
The following day Kate made an appointment with a prominent German merchant named Otto Bueller. Bueller was in his fifties, a distinguished-looking man with a compassionate face and eyes that had known deep suffering. They met at a small café near the bahnhof. Herr Bueller selected a table in a deserted corner.
“I’ve been told,” Kate said softly, “that you’ve started an underground to help smuggle Jews into neutral countries. Is that true?”
“It’s not true, Mrs. Blackwell. Such an act would be treason against the Third Reich.”
“I have also heard that you’re in need of funds to run it.”
Herr Bueller shrugged. “Since there is no underground, I have no need of funds to run it, is that not so?”
His eyes kept nervously darting around the café. This was a man who breathed and slept with danger each day of his life.
“I was hoping I might be of some help,” Kate said carefully. “Kruger-Brent, Limited, has factories in many neutral and Allied countries. If someone could get the refugees there, I would arrange for them to have employment.”
Herr Bueller sat there sipping a bitter coffee. Finally, he said, “I know nothing about these things. Politics are dangerous these days. But if you are interested in helping someone in distress, I have an uncle in England who suffers from a terrible, debilitating disease. His doctor bills are very high.”
“How high?”
“Fifty thousand dollars a month. Arrangements would have to be made to deposit the money for his medical expenses in London and transfer the deposits to a Swiss bank.”
“That can be arranged.”
“My uncle would be very pleased.”
Some eight weeks later, a small but steady stream of Jewish refugees began to arrive in Allied countries to go to work in Kruger-Brent factories.
Tony quit school at the end of two years. He went up to Kate’s office to tell her the news. “I t-tried, M-mother. I really d-did. But I’ve m-made up m-my mind. I want to s-study p-painting. When the w-war is over, I’m g-going to P-paris.”
Each word was like a hammerblow.
“I kn-know you’re d-disappointed, but I have to l-live my own life. I think I can be good—really good.” He saw the look on Kate’s face. “I’ve done what you’ve asked me to do. Now you’ve got to g-give me my chance. They’ve accepted me at the Art I-institute in Chicago.”
Kate’s mind was in a turmoil. What Tony wanted to do was such a bloody waste. All she could say was, “When do you plan to leave?”
“Enrollment starts on the fifteenth.”
“What’s the date today?”
“D-december sixth.”
On Sunday, December 7, 1941, squadrons of Nakajima bombers and Zero fighter planes from the Imperial Japanese Navy attacked Pearl Harbor, and the following day, the United States was at war. That afternoon Tony enlisted in the United States Marine Corps. He was sent to Quantico, Virginia, where he was graduated from Officers’ Training School and from there to the South Pacific.
Kate felt as though she were living on the edge of an abyss. Her working day was filled with the pressures of running the company, but every moment at the back of her mind was the fear that she would receive some dreaded news about Tony—that he had been wounded or killed.
The war with Japan was going badly. Japanese bombers struck at American bases on Guam, Midway and Wake islands. They took Singapore in February 1942, and quickly overran New Britain, New Ireland and the Admiralty and Solomon islands. General Douglas MacArthur was forced to withdraw from the Philippines. The powerful forces of the Axis were slowly conquering the world, and the shadows were darkening everywhere. Kate was afraid that Tony might be taken prisoner of war and tortured. With all her power and influence, there was nothing she could do except pray. Every letter from Tony was a beacon of hope, a sign that, a few short weeks before, he had been alive. “They keep us in the dark here,” Tony wrote. “Are the Russians still holding on? The Japanese soldier is brutal, but you have to respect him. He’s not afraid to die…”