Resistance Women - Jennifer Chiaverini Page 0,61

room and were seated at one of the finest tables. His wife and children exchanged amused glances as he tested his German on the waiters and staff, asking questions, making jokes, and generally not behaving at all as a properly stuffy, arrogant ambassador ought. They enjoyed a delicious, authentic German dinner, and Martha tasted her first real German beer and declared it quite perfect.

Afterward, they decided to go for a walk to stretch their legs and relax before calling it a night. They strolled the length of the Siegesallee, a broad boulevard lined with lovely trees and ponderous statues of Germany’s former rulers and statesmen. Martha’s father paused before each one and offered his family a brief historical sketch of the man, his era, his accomplishments, and his character. He seemed utterly in his element, and Martha was so happy for him that her heart overflowed with joy and love.

How thankful she was that her father had invited her to share in his adventure! It was a lovely night, the streets softly lit, and all was serene, romantic, unfamiliar, nostalgic. She delighted in the warmth and friendliness of the people, the caress of the summer air perfumed with the fragrance of flowers and trees, the charm of the Old World buildings of stone and brick, so different from the skyscraper canyons of Chicago and New York.

If first impressions counted for anything, the American press had badly maligned Germany. She could not wait to see what other unexpected delights awaited her.

Chapter Eighteen

July 1933

Greta

Berlin was sublime in summer, the Tiergarten green and blooming, the breezes soft, the sunshine warm and beneficent. Restaurants and theaters thrived; fashionable men and women laughed and drank and smoked at cafés. Neighbors gossiped and carefree children played underfoot. The poor still struggled, but there was a sense that better times lay just around the corner. As for the marching SA in their ill-fitting brown uniforms, and the SS in their more impressive tailored black, unless one was their enemy, their appearances brought a thrill of excitement to an otherwise ordinary day. The National Socialist anthems and chants raised hopes and renewed pride in a nation beleaguered by economic depression and humiliation that still lingered years after the end of the Great War.

Or so Greta observed in neighbors and acquaintances who had fallen in line with the Nazi doctrine with an ardent swiftness that defied understanding. What she felt was a vague, unsettled dread punctuated by alarm and horror. Almost daily she heard of new atrocities dealt to the Nazis’ political rivals, Jews, and unwitting tourists who had eluded the process of Gleichschaltung and did not realize they had committed a crime until a Brownshirt knocked them to the pavement with a rubber truncheon or the butt of a rifle. Attacks on Americans—Jews, or people perceived as Jews, or tourists who eschewed the Hitler salute—were reported almost every day, terrifying in their randomness and violence. Greta was deeply concerned that Mildred, in her American naiveté and optimism, would stumble into danger even though she had lived in Germany for several years.

But as dangerous as Germany had become for Americans, countless thousands of German citizens endured even worse treatment at the hands of their own government. Americans who stumbled into trouble had the influential U.S. consulate to advocate for them. German Jews, Communists, and outspoken opponents of the Reich had no one.

Although Greta had returned from London to a very different Germany than she had left, she could not agree that German theater was dead. Certainly its people had been scattered and diminished by arrests, desertions, and emigration. Yet subversive remnants persisted, not only in the irreverent, dissolute cabarets but in the most renowned theater circles. Adam introduced Greta to playwrights, actors, and producers who drank and dined with Nazi officials one night and condemned them in scathing satire and allegory the next. Offstage, Adam and some trusted friends surreptitiously produced and distributed flyers denouncing the Nazis and calling for Social Democrats and Communists to unite in opposing them. It was dangerous work, as anyone caught in possession of anti-Nazi literature was severely punished with imprisonment and harsh beatings. Although Greta feared for Adam’s safety, it was a relief to meet people undaunted and defiant when so many other Germans had fallen under the spell of Nazi propaganda or had slipped into a state of passive oblivion. As long as some Germans resisted, Nazi dominion was not absolute.

Adam urged Greta to join the fight. “Because I love you, I

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