Read Online Munich Signature by Bodie Thoene, Brock Thoene - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Bodie Thoene, Brock Thoene
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that night at the theater. The dark shadow of memory was still on the face of Beneš as he reached for Murphy’s hand in firm greeting, and then bowed to kiss Elisa’s hand.
The music began again as Beneš straightened and gestured toward the guests. “Are you enjoying the celebration?” he asked kindly. “Our way of saying thank you. Also our way of letting the Nazis know we are still very much alive, yes?”
“They must be quite certain of that after finding the Czech Army waiting at the border, Mr. President,” Murphy said in grim acknowledgement of the recent crisis. “You are the one nation in Europe that has faced down Herr Hitler and won.”
“I regret that our military action on the frontier forced us to delay this party for so long.” Beneš turned and addressed Elisa. “If I had been aware that you were so very beautiful, we would have abandoned everything else to offer you our hospitality.”
Elisa smiled in thanks. “Hitler has declared that he never intended to invade the Czech frontier,” she said quietly. “But my brother Wilhelm is a pilot. He saw the German divisions. You must be quite proud that you have faced the dragon and he has backed down.”
Beneš did not seem to hear her words. His face clouded for a moment. “The dragon is still a dragon, Mrs. Murphy,” he replied with a frown as the orchestra played the “Blue Danube” waltz. Then, catching himself, he extended his hand to her. “Would you honor me with this dance?”
Murphy stepped back as Elisa danced away with the president of Czechoslovakia. This was one dance Murphy would not attempt to cut in on.
“A beautiful woman, your wife.” The wounded officer, arm in a sling, smiled admiringly toward Elisa and the president. Elisa stood several inches taller than the diminutive Beneš, and this disparity in height made her stand out all the more. “He dances with his savior,” said the officer.
“How is your arm?” Murphy was not really interested in talking to the man, but felt cornered.
“A slight wound. Grazed the bone. Only my arm, and not our lives.” Now the officer clicked his heels and bowed slightly. “I would shake your hand in gratitude for that, but as you can see—”
Murphy cleared his throat self-consciously. “Sporer was only one man. Your army stood up to the Reich, and Hitler backed down. That is quite an accomplishment.”
The officer gave a short, bitter laugh and slid the fingers of his good hand beneath the red sash of his uniform in a pose that made him look like Napoleon. “Not such an accomplishment, John Murphy. Hitler still has his eye on our frontier in the mountains of the Sudetenland. He will not attempt to cross our border if we let him know we will fight for our line of defense.” He shook his head. “No. Herr Hitler will attempt to win our Sudetenland by using men like Albert Sporer. By stirring up riots with the aid of his Nazi stooges. Then, with the performance of such fellows for the whole world to see, he will claim that the Sudetenland people have wanted to belong to the Reich all along. Only when he has convinced the world of that will he dare to march.”
“No one will buy that,” Murphy said, but he did not believe his own assertion.
“Oh? Did the world not believe it about Austria? How many Austrians voted for the Anschluss according to Hitler? Ninety-nine percent, they say. Of course there was only one name on the ballot. Only one choice, and that was ‘ ja ’!”
“Most intelligent people know the truth.”
“The problem is not in knowing the truth. It is in acting on it, Herr Murphy.” He grinned. “At least we have one Nazi criminal where he belongs. Albert Sporer is imprisoned below us, you know.”
Murphy looked at his feet and the polished parquet dance floor. “Just like the devil.”
“Chained in the dungeon of Hradcany Castle. Beneath the lights and the music of the very men he might have murdered. Fitting, I think.”
With that, the
The music began again as Beneš straightened and gestured toward the guests. “Are you enjoying the celebration?” he asked kindly. “Our way of saying thank you. Also our way of letting the Nazis know we are still very much alive, yes?”
“They must be quite certain of that after finding the Czech Army waiting at the border, Mr. President,” Murphy said in grim acknowledgement of the recent crisis. “You are the one nation in Europe that has faced down Herr Hitler and won.”
“I regret that our military action on the frontier forced us to delay this party for so long.” Beneš turned and addressed Elisa. “If I had been aware that you were so very beautiful, we would have abandoned everything else to offer you our hospitality.”
Elisa smiled in thanks. “Hitler has declared that he never intended to invade the Czech frontier,” she said quietly. “But my brother Wilhelm is a pilot. He saw the German divisions. You must be quite proud that you have faced the dragon and he has backed down.”
Beneš did not seem to hear her words. His face clouded for a moment. “The dragon is still a dragon, Mrs. Murphy,” he replied with a frown as the orchestra played the “Blue Danube” waltz. Then, catching himself, he extended his hand to her. “Would you honor me with this dance?”
Murphy stepped back as Elisa danced away with the president of Czechoslovakia. This was one dance Murphy would not attempt to cut in on.
“A beautiful woman, your wife.” The wounded officer, arm in a sling, smiled admiringly toward Elisa and the president. Elisa stood several inches taller than the diminutive Beneš, and this disparity in height made her stand out all the more. “He dances with his savior,” said the officer.
“How is your arm?” Murphy was not really interested in talking to the man, but felt cornered.
“A slight wound. Grazed the bone. Only my arm, and not our lives.” Now the officer clicked his heels and bowed slightly. “I would shake your hand in gratitude for that, but as you can see—”
Murphy cleared his throat self-consciously. “Sporer was only one man. Your army stood up to the Reich, and Hitler backed down. That is quite an accomplishment.”
The officer gave a short, bitter laugh and slid the fingers of his good hand beneath the red sash of his uniform in a pose that made him look like Napoleon. “Not such an accomplishment, John Murphy. Hitler still has his eye on our frontier in the mountains of the Sudetenland. He will not attempt to cross our border if we let him know we will fight for our line of defense.” He shook his head. “No. Herr Hitler will attempt to win our Sudetenland by using men like Albert Sporer. By stirring up riots with the aid of his Nazi stooges. Then, with the performance of such fellows for the whole world to see, he will claim that the Sudetenland people have wanted to belong to the Reich all along. Only when he has convinced the world of that will he dare to march.”
“No one will buy that,” Murphy said, but he did not believe his own assertion.
“Oh? Did the world not believe it about Austria? How many Austrians voted for the Anschluss according to Hitler? Ninety-nine percent, they say. Of course there was only one name on the ballot. Only one choice, and that was ‘ ja ’!”
“Most intelligent people know the truth.”
“The problem is not in knowing the truth. It is in acting on it, Herr Murphy.” He grinned. “At least we have one Nazi criminal where he belongs. Albert Sporer is imprisoned below us, you know.”
Murphy looked at his feet and the polished parquet dance floor. “Just like the devil.”
“Chained in the dungeon of Hradcany Castle. Beneath the lights and the music of the very men he might have murdered. Fitting, I think.”
With that, the
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