Show Me a Hero

confidential part of our talk is that I want to tell you that there is mounting and irrefutable evidence that Hitler intends a war. He intends to take over the whole of Europe. Jews will not be safe anywhere in Europe. We can’t afford to lose you. You have talents and characteristics that are rare and valuable. We have already lost two key men, one here in Berlin and one in the Ruhr. They were arrested in the middle of the night by the Gestapo and nobody knows what has happened to them. The police and the Gestapo deny all knowledge of their arrests. We have an informant in the Kripo. He tells us they were arrested because they were classed as Jewish agitators. The SA are hounding Jews in the streets, smashing up their shops and their homes. The Nazis fear nobody. Not the British nor the French. The Civil War in Spain is just a trial run for the Luftwaffe. They will have their war, believe me. And the signs are that they’ll win.” He sighed. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of such bad news.” He shrugged. “But that’s how it is. Not just my opinion but Moscow’s own analysis of what will happen. When—we don’t know. But not long now, I’m afraid. We need to look to our defences. We need your help.”

For several minutes Andrei sat in silence and then he said, “What do you want me to do in America?”

“Influence people. Organise our own people there to see Moscow as an ally. A nation wanting peace. To most Americans we are the enemy. Put our good points over. Make them like us in case our turn comes.”

“What do you mean—our turn?”

“When Hitler has conquered Europe he will turn on us. The Americans will want to keep out of any wars in Europe. Make them at least sympathetic to our own efforts to avoid war.”

“And the people in intelligence in Moscow?”

“Nothing for them. If the Nazis attack in Europe we want no sign that we are spying on the Americans. We shall order our people to stop all espionage activities.”

“You know I don’t speak English. None of us does.”

“So start learning. Leave France to Serov. He’s not a Jew. He can survive.”

“There will be immigration problems.”

“No. We shall arrange all that. You will all travel on German passports in your own names. They are sympathetic to Jewish refugees in America. We have people there who can get you in without a problem. And in the course of time you take out American citizenship.”

“That means we stay there for a long time?”

“Permanently, Andrei. Settle down and be an American family. You will have funds to do what you need.”

It was February 1938 before they moved to the USA. Andrei went first, alone. With advice from other Russian Jews he decided that they would live in the Brighton Beach area where there were so many immigrant Jews from Russia and Poland that one more Russian-speaking family would go virtually unnoticed.

It was a poor district, a few stops on the elevated before Coney Island, but living conditions were far better than in Moscow. The shops, the food, the whole atmosphere made him feel at home. He could speak Russian without seeming to be anything other than an American and he was sure that the family would settle in easily.

In the two months before the family were due to arrive he found that he missed Chantal more than he had expected. He kept himself busy, finding them a quite roomy apartment over an empty shop, checking out the shops and the possibility of jobs for all of them. It obviously wasn’t going to be easy to get jobs locally but it was only ten cents on the elevated to Manhattan and he heard that there were jobs for girls in Sheepshead Bay and further north in the Prospect Park area, without having to cross the bridge to Manhattan.

By the end of the first month he had made contact with several of the leading local communists and had talked at private meetings about Moscow’s policies. He was listened to with respect and they assumed that he was a Comintern agent without him ever saying so. They were used to hiding their allegiances but there were plenty of ordinary Party members who quite openly advocated communism. He was made welcome by several families who helped him buy used furniture and kitchen things for the apartment. And he spent at least two hours a day improving his English.

When Lensky had told him of their move to New York it seemed just part of the routine of his work for Moscow, but now he was actually in New York he was full of doubts. He realised that because of his broken English he was avoiding going into Manhattan. He had gone in twice and had found the crowds and its busyness overwhelming. It seemed preposterous that he was expected to not only survive but to influence these people.

He had a natural skill for learning and absorbing foreign languages but what you needed for shopping or talking to neighbours wasn’t enough for what he was expected to do. But if that was what the Party wanted he had to prepare himself to do his best. For the first time in his life he doubted his ability to do what they wanted. Why should these lively people give a damn about his views on how they should live their lives? Suddenly his life in Paris that had seemed so full of activity seemed to have been too casual, too easy-going. And he wished he was back there in his old routine. Sometimes when he was lonely he got near to accepting that he was scared. Scared of the task he’d been given. Unsure of how to go about it. And scared of failing miserably.

He ate alone, one meal a day, in the evenings, and then walked along the Boardwalk to Coney Island and then back