Read Online Ashes by Kathryn Lasky - Free Book Online Page A

singer and dancer, was one of the most famous entertainers in Europe. I had heard that Uncle Hessie was very, indeed very good friends with her. Although just a few years before she had danced in an infamous nude revue, she somehow was not considered just an ordinary, vulgar chorus girl. She had become a symbol of erotic Berlin and yet was never considered crude. Naughty, yes. But lewd? Smutty? Never! That was most people’s opinion, including Baba’s. But I doubted Mama and Papa had ever gone to see her. Einstein had—with his wife, Elsa, no less! But I could hardly believe that I was about to wear the scarf of the Creole Goddess, the Black Pearl. Those were nicknames that celebrated Josephine Baker ’s exotic beauty.
    â€œAre you sure she won’t mind?” I asked as I finished tying it over the straps of my goggles. I felt fabulously glamorous.
    â€œNo, of course not. She left for Paris three years ago and swears not to come back until the little corporal and his ‘naughty boys,’ as she calls Hitler and the SA, are gone.”
    First Josephine, now Vicki , I thought. Who’s next?
    We headed south, down the wide avenue of the Aschaffenburger Strasse. But we had only gone a block and were at Bayerischer Square when I heard Uncle Hessie sigh. The leather seats of the sports car were so deep that I could not quite see what had provoked this sigh. I rose up a bit to tuck my knees under me just as Hessie began to slow the car. Like sludge running from a river’s mouth, hundreds of SA were moving through the street. I didn’t know how our car would get past them—traffic had nearly come to a complete stop. Flags with swastikas stippled the air. It was a parade! The men wore high black jackboots to the knees. Above the top of the boots, their brown pants flared absurdly so that it appeared as if the men had wings attached to their hips. No wonder they called the stiff-legged march der Stechschritt , the goose step. They looked like a bunch of stupid geese coming down the street. As we got closer to the parade, the stomping boots were deafening. It was as if the pavement groaned beneath them.
    â€œNot to worry, Liebchen .” Hessie patted my knee. I scanned the spectators on the sidewalk. Their faces were wreathed in some sort of anticipation. I couldn’t help but remember Hertha’s words: “Now there might be a chance.” Was this why they were cheering? This chance they all anticipated. The rambunctious boys, as Hertha had called them, were thickening into knots on the streets.
    We soon had to halt, as many of the Brown Shirts seemed to have broken away from the parade formation and were now wandering through the street. Some of the geese appeared quite wobbly and I could see they carried beer steins.
    â€œ Mein Gott! Are they drunk, Uncle Hessie?”
    â€œAs I said, not to worry, dear.” He patted my knee again.
    A young, smooth-faced SA approached the car with his friend. He slapped the hood hard with his hand. His eyes were sliding about in a frightening way. A string of foam from the beer threaded down his chin.
    â€œSo you like my car!” Uncle Hessie said brightly.
    â€œYes, yes!”
    â€œWon’t find a red Commie having one of these, will you?” Uncle Hessie said. The fellows were obviously drunk, and I sensed that the situation could turn ugly in a split second. Maybe Uncle Hessie was pretending to share their opinions. I knew he’d never really say something like that.
    â€œ Nein, nein! ” the SA trooper replied.
    â€œBut maybe a Jew,” said his friend. He cocked his head at Uncle Hessie.
    â€œAh, maybe a Jew,” Uncle Hessie said. “And if it’s a Jew, I would sell it to him. Perhaps you’ve heard of the PAW.”
    I had no idea what the letters PAW stood for.
    â€œPAW?” The man wiped his mouth on his sleeve.
    His friend, who was not quite as drunk, leaned forward. “PAW. Yeah, I