ANGEL

A Nightmare of the Holocaust

by Jo Davidsmeyer

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by Jo Davidsmeyer
5591 Shady Brook Trail
Sarasota FL 34243
(941) 355-5852

This file is a continuation from Act One, part two

ACT II

SETTING: A British prison camp in Germany. Evening, December 9, 1945.

The stage lights rise to reveal the confines of a prison cell with sandbags and barbed-wire in the distance. Shadows of cell bars cut across the stage. The cell is furnished with a bed, nightstand, a chair, and a small shelf that holds a make-up case and a hand-mirror. On the nightstand is a metal pitcher and several tin cups. The only decoration is a sprig of mistletoe suspended from the center of the cell. A prisoner is huddled asleep in the bed, with back to the audience and head hidden. IRMA is pacing about the cell. HELENE is seated downright outside the cell. She is reading aloud from a prayerbook.

HELENE:
Out of the deep have I called unto thee, O Lord; Lord, hear my voice. O let thine ears consider well the voice of my complaint. If thou, Lord, wilt be extreme to mark what is done amiss, who may abide it?

(As HELENE reads, an image of a scaffold comes into focus. Distantly, military drums begin a persistent beat)

HELENE (continued):
For there is mercy with thee; therefore shalt thou be feared. I look for the Lord; my soul doth wait for him; in his word is my trust. My soul fleaeth unto the Lord before the morning watch.

(The drums pick up intensity)

IRMA:
Not yet!

(The scream abruptly halts the drums)

HELENE:
Yea, before the morning watch.

IRMA:
It's not time yet!

(The image fades)

HELENE:
What did you say, Irma?

IRMA:
Not time yet. Save your prayers 'til after I'm gone.

HELENE:
There's still time. Irma, won't you pray with me? The Lord is merciful. Even after all that has passed, if you would lay your sins before him, take him into your heart --

IRMA:
Oh, please, Helene! Can't we just talk? Maybe share a few laughs? It's in the Bible, Helene. Let us eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow ... You're angry with me. Please don't be. Not tonight. Especially not tonight.

HELENE:
I just wish you wouldn't make jokes about it.

IRMA:
Why? Because I'm being hanged tomorrow? Best time I can think of for gallows humor.

HELENE:
I'm sure you're more familiar with that than I am ... Here, I brought the papers you asked for.

IRMA:
(Takes newspapers) My, my! Made the headlines again! "Blonde Angel of Auschwitz Dies Tomorrow." Top billing! The others being hanged barely get a mention. It seems I'm famous.

HELENE:
Infamous.

IRMA:
You always said I'd be big news someday.

HELENE:
This wasn't quite what I had in mind.

(IRMA settles into chair to read the papers as HELENE returns to her prayerbook)

HELENE (continued):
Man, that is born of woman, hath but a short time to live, and is full of misery. He cometh up, and is cut down, like a flower. In the midst of life we are in death. O Lord God most holy, O holy and most merciful Savior, deliver us not into the bitter pains of eternal death. As our Savior Christ hath taught us, we are bold to say, Our Father who art _

IRMA:
Our father ... he won't come, will he?

(HELENE shakes her head)

IRMA (continued):
You talked with him? Told him I asked to see him? ... I see. And the boys? What of them? Won't either of my brothers even come to say good-bye?

(HELENE remains silent)

IRMA (continued):
Is it because Papa won't let them, or -- or don't they want to see me again? ... Answer me!

HELENE:
I've made arrangements for the funeral. If you approve, I'll--

IRMA:
I don't give a damn what you do with my body! They won't come, will they?

HELENE:
No.

IRMA:
And you? My dear, dear sister, you really don't want to be here either, do you? You don't even want to be in the same room with me anymore. Helene...

(IRMA reaches to take her sister's hand, but HELENE rises beyond reach, noting the only decoration in the cell)

HELENE:
That's new. Mistletoe?

IRMA:
What? ... Oh, ja. Well, with Christmas coming I thought we could use a little cheer. I think I meant it as a joke at the time.

HELENE:
Haven't we had enough of your jokes?

IRMA:
Do you hate me?

HELENE:
Don't be absurd.

IRMA:
Absurd of me, of course! It's not proper to hate your sister. And you always do the proper thing, don't you?

HELENE:
I try.

IRMA:
Indeed you do. Testifying at the trial, performing the proper number of prison visits. Fulfilling your sisterly duty, whether you want to or not. Upholding the family honor!

HELENE:
It was my Christian duty.

IRMA:
Honor and duty. That at least I can understand. It's what we swore to. Honor and duty to the Reich! My, what a wonderful little Nazi you would have made.

(HELENE crosses to exit)

IRMA:
Will you be there tomorrow?

HELENE:
At the hanging?

IRMA:
Ja.

HELENE:
No! Unlike you, Irma, I have no desire to ... No, I won't be there.

IRMA:
Oh, but isn't that part of the role of the faithful sister? Standing at my side to the bitter end, nobly bearing the shame and disgrace --

HELENE:
Let's not talk about it. I've consulted with a local minister. His church has a small cemetery --

IRMA:
No. Just burn me and have done with it. I think that's fitting.

HELENE:
Poetic justice, some would say.

IRMA:
Yes, I rather like that. Scatter the ashes where ever you want. It'll be easier that way. I wouldn't want you to feel obliged to make dutiful little visits to the cemetery once a year.

HELENE:
Thank you, yes. I think that would be best. I shall pray for you, Irma. Before I go, won't you pray with me, just once?

IRMA:
Oh, will you stop hiding behind your prayerbook! I know you think you're doing the right thing. But I'd really just rather talk.

HELENE:
There's nothing to be said. I'm tired, Irma. Tired of it all. I just want it to be over.

IRMA:
And that's all?

HELENE:
Yes, that's all. Shall we pray? I believe in God the Father--

IRMA:
I don't want your damned prayers! I want my sister. I want to talk with you. To know what you think of me. If you still can love me after all this. I want the truth!

(IRMA violently knocks the prayerbook out of HELENE's hands)

HELENE:
The truth! Do you really want the truth? To hear that I can't stand the sight of you? That you disgust me? I look at you and get ill! Is that what you want to hear? The truth? The real truth is that you are not my sister!

(HELENE quickly calms herself and collects her things, putting on her cloak and veiled hat)

HELENE (continued):
No. I knew my sister. And I loved her very much. But you couldn't possibly be her. You see, she died. I'm not really sure when it happened, but it was a very long time ago. I mourn her loss. She was so tender, so loving. So much talent that just went to waste. It was such a shame.

IRMA:
My God, don't do this to me, Helene. What happened had nothing to do with you and I. What I did can't change what we had to- gether. For God's sake, won't you look at me! I'm still your sister. In spite of everything, I'm still Irma.

HELENE:
(Quietly inspect her sister) I'm sorry, but I don't know you.

(IRMA grabs HELENE's hand. HELENE screams and breaks from her grasp)

HELENE (continued):
Don't touch me! You're not human. You're just some ... some filthy, bloody beast.

(HELENE exits)

IRMA:
Helene, wait. Helene!

(IRMA stares after her for a beat. For lack of anything else to do, she sits at the table and reapplies her lipstick. Staring questioningly at her reflection, she lets the lipstick drop)

IRMA (continued):
Filthy, bloody beast ... Beast. Barbarian. Animal

(IRMA slams the mirror down on the table)

IRMA (continued):
No. I do not choose to be a beast tonight. I will be something else. I can be anything I want to be.

(Starts prowling nervously about the cell)

IRMA (continued):
Let's see now, what do I want to be this evening? I could be a-- a dancer! Yes, a few turns across the floor. One-two-three, one-two-three ... or maybe a circus performer, walking the high- wire. Dazzling the crowds! No, no, no. That's not it. What I want to be tonight _ what I want to be is ... free.

(Stops her frenetic activity and sinks to the floor)

IRMA (continued):
Free. Now that's something I haven't been in years. God, this place reminds me of Auschwitz. My room was just like this. Same size, same cot, same moth-eaten blankets, even the same view. Only difference is the prisoners are better fed.

(Leaps up and crosses to the table to fix her hair. Picks up mirror again)

IRMA (continued):
Filthy beast, huh? Well, you may be a beast, but at least you'll be the best looking beast in the cell block. Even if you are a barbarian.

MENGELE:
Of course you're a barbarian.

(MENGELE steps out of the shadows)

MENGELE (continued):
We're all barbarians. The Führer said so himself. Hello, my angel. Here we are again, just like old times. Though I must admit I rather pictured you a in a gilded cage, not a barbed- wired one.

IRMA:
Joseph, must you always haunt my nightmares?

MENGELE:
Oh, Liebchen, this isn't your nightmare.

IRMA:
Go away, Mengele. I do not choose to imagine you tonight.

(MENGELE starts whistling)

IRMA (continued):
I said go away! Now. I'm dismissing you from my mind. Poof! Vanish!

MENGELE:
Oh, you are amusing at times, my dear. Come now, Irma, enough of this boring self-pity. Chin up, head high, you've a reputation to maintain. You are the blonde angel of Auschwitz. You're international news! It's what you've always wanted.

IRMA:
Right now I'd prefer to do without the attention.

MENGELE:
Nonsense! Irma, you thrive on attention. You require it, like others require air.

IRMA:
Go away.

MENGELE:
But then, my dear, you'd be all alone with yourself. What on earth would you do?

IRMA:
(Indicates the inmate asleep on the cot) I have my fellow inmates for company.

MENGELE:
Well, I'll admit you've a captive audience. But hardly an en- thusiastic one. Don't you think it's time we awoke him?

(MENGELE steps into the downstage playing area. He roughly kicks the cot, jarring awake the prisoner, who tosses the blanket aside, reveal- ing him to be the PROSECUTOR)

MENGELE (continued):
Wake up! You wouldn't want to miss anything.

PROSECUTOR:
What's happening? Where am I?

MENGELE:
Not very original, is he?

(The PROSECUTOR is confused and agitated. He moves about the cell, looking for a way out)

MENGELE (continued):
Not really your kind, dear. You should have elected a better crowd to be hung with. Not this disreputable group of yids and commoners.

IRMA:
Well, the members of the Auschwitz aristocracy were notable in their absence from the trial.

MENGELE:
Ah, yes. Daddy's very good at arranging things.

PROSECUTOR:
What is happening here? I demand to be told what is happening.

IRMA:
Don't ask me. It's your nightmare.

MENGELE:
No, no, no. This is all wrong. You should have arisen and proclaimed, _I suppose you're wondering why I've called you here._ Would you like to try again?

PROSECUTOR:
This can't be happening! This isn't real.

MENGELE:
Of course it's not real. You're not paying attention! This is a nightmare.

IRMA:
Which would make me the woman of your dreams.

PROSECUTOR:
Enough! I'm going to wake up now.

MENGELE:
Oh, I don't think so. You took a sleeping pill, remember? You could try pinching yourself.

IRMA:
Here, let me.

PROSECUTOR:
NO! Stay away from me.

MENGELE:
Is that any way to behave? Now be a good little Major and play along. You must play out the scene. That's why you've summoned us. That's why you've come.

IRMA:
You've come for the show.

MENGELE:
And we'll not disappoint you. Let's set the scene. Lights, please! Danke. Some background music. Perhaps some prisoners singing.

IRMA:
Something bawdy and off-key.

(Female voices are heard singing "In München Steht Ein Hofbräuhaus")

MENGELE:
Ah, yes, that will do nicely. Irma, down right at the make-up table. Major over here, as if you've just entered the cell.

(PROSECUTOR is in a daze and allows himself to be maneuvered down left by MENGELE)

MENGELE (continued):
No, that's not quite right. Ah, I know what's missing. You look unclothed without your briefcase. Props!

(A briefcase is lowered into the cell. MENGELE unhooks it from the wire and places it in the PROSECUTOR's hand)

MENGELE (continued):
Perfect! Now we're ready to enact your dreams. Irma! Look a bit more flustered that the Major has decided to pay you a visit. Very good. Now, go!

(IRMA instantly becomes believably meek and vulnerable)

IRMA:
You came.

(MENGELE has to nudge PROSECUTOR to get him into the scene)

PROSECUTOR:
You asked me to.

IRMA:
So I did.

MENGELE:
Your line.

PROSECUTOR:
You ... you wrote -- wrote me a letter. That's right, you wrote and asked to see me ... but I never answered.

IRMA:
You've answered now. But it wasn't I who wanted to see you. No, the other way around.

PROSECUTOR:
What?

IRMA:
You wanted to come, wanted to talk with me. To ask me something. And, frankly, I wanted to know what so troubled you all through the trial.

PROSECUTOR:
So, now you're a mindreader.

IRMA:
Don't flatter yourself. You have a terrible stud face ... Isn't that the right colloquialism?

MENGELE:
I believe the phrase is "poker face."

IRMA:
Ah, poker face. I don't see how you've survived as a prosecutor. Your emotions are so very transparent. It's most amusing interesting watching the conflicting thoughts flash across your features. During the trial most of the time I would just sit and watch you.

PROSECUTOR:
And what did you see?

IRMA:
Questions and ... no, I shouldn't say.

PROSECUTOR:
Yes?

IRMA:
I was probably mistaken.

PROSECUTOR:
Oh, you are good. I'll admit that. You're very good at manipu- lating people into asking the right questions. The dramatic line, the well-timed pause. "Questions and ... no!"

MENGELE:
Careful, Irma, he's on to you.

PROSECUTOR:
Stop your games. You were saying, questions and ...

IRMA:
Guilt.

(No reaction from PROSECUTOR)

IRMA (continued):
Well then, to the questions.

PROSECUTOR:
(Opening briefcase to remove his notes) Yes. We have received information that you have been secretly in communication with Mengele.

IRMA:
Mengele?

PROSECUTOR:
Have you been in contact with him?

MENGELE:
What an absurd accusation. I have better things to do with my time.

IRMA:
Who plays games now? This is not what you came to find out.

PROSECUTOR:
Will you answer the question? What are you smiling at?

IRMA:
If you insist on interrogating me, I wish you wouldn't do it while standing beneath the mistletoe.

PROSECUTOR:
(He steps downstage) Mengele. Have you been in contact with him?

IRMA:
No. I have not seen or heard from Mengele since we were together at Auschwitz-Birkenau.

PROSECUTOR:
Do you know where he is hiding?

IRMA:
No. But that's an excellent question. Well, darling?

MENGELE:
Oh, just traveling abroad, enjoying the good life.

PROSECUTOR:
Many S.S. wanted for questioning are still at large. Did you know of any plans to smuggle S.S. out of the country?

IRMA:
(Taking a cigarette) Obviously not.

PROSECUTOR:
I have some questions about Auschwitz and the --

IRMA:
Do you have a light?

PROSECUTOR:
Sorry, no.

MENGELE:
Try your breast pocket.

(Much to his surprise, the PROSECUTOR withdraws a lighter from his pocket. With cigarette in hand, IRMA crosses to him. She does not take the proffered lighter, but waits for him to light the cigarette for her. She leans in close to him to inhale, but he immediately backs away)

IRMA:
You were saying?

PROSECUTOR:
Did you assist in Mengele's experiments?

IRMA:
Ja.

MENGELE:
She was little aid. However, she was an attractive ornament to have about.

PROSECUTOR:
You always denied being in charge of work parties outside the camp. Did you supervise prisoners on work parties?

IRMA:
Ja.

PROSECUTOR:
Did you select prisoners for the gas chambers?

IRMA:
Ja.

PROSECUTOR:
Did you set your dog to attack prisoners?

IRMA:
Nein.

PROSECUTOR:
What? #12;

MENGELE:
That means no.

PROSECUTOR:
Will you be quiet!

MENGELE:
There's no need to raise your voice to me. After all, I'm only a figment of your imagination. If you're tired of me simply com- mand me to vanish, and I'll be gone.

PROSECUTOR:
Really? In that case ... Bugger off!

MENGELE:
Well! Testy, aren't we?

(MENGELE exits)

IRMA:
Alone, at last! I knew it. You have a very pleasant smile, Major. This is the first time I've seen the lines of a smile break through that stodgy British decorum.

PROSECUTOR:
Your laughter, it's pleasant. And damned if it isn't innocent and girlish. That was the only ray of sunshine in the months of proceedings, that one time you laughed.

IRMA:
Gott, that was so stupid of me. But it was funny.

PROSECUTOR:
I know. I could have shot the lieutenant who screened that testimony. You should have seen the report I wrote on that little incident ...

(He stops abruptly when he realizes he has been chatting amiably with this woman)

IRMA:
Will you join me in a glass of wine, Major? I saved it from my final meal. Please excuse the tin cups. I'm afraid they're worried I might cheat the hangman.

(He does not take the offered cup)

IRMA (continued):
If you will not drink with a murderess, will you at least drink with a young woman who is about to die?

(IRMA drinks the cup the PROSECUTOR refused. She refills cup and pours a second.)

IRMA:
Why so many questions, Major? What does it matter? I'm guilty. It is not your fault that I left few alive to testify to my many crimes. Please, will you not drink with me?

PROSECUTOR:
(Accepting the cup) What's a proper toast in such a situation?

IRMA:
L'chaim?

PROSECUTOR:
God save the King.

IRMA:
Whatever.

(They drink)

IRMA (continued):
Major, you know everything about my life, but I know nothing of yours. Are you married?

PROSECUTOR:
Yes.

IRMA:
Children? ... Would you prefer I not ask? Do you not want me to defile them by uttering their names on my sinful lips?

PROSECUTOR:
No it's ... one child. A girl.

IRMA:
A girl? Do you have a photo?

PROSECUTOR:
(First checks his pockets, relieved to find them empty) No, I don't seem to.

IRMA:
It doesn't matter.

(IRMA waves her arm, possibly to the accompaniment of a harp glissando. Picture of a woman and child appear on the cyc.)

PROSECUTOR:
Yes! That's my wife and daughter.

IRMA:
Lovely family! I believe she has your eyes. How long since you've seen them?

PROSECUTOR:
Nearly two years. How she's grown. My little baby. She played in her first recital last week. It seems only yesterday she was learning to play chopsticks. I used to love to listen to her in the evening at her lessons. She's so beautiful when she ...

IRMA:
Why do you always stop? Is it so horrible that you can actually talk freely with me? That you could possibly enjoy my company?

(projection fades)

PROSECUTOR:
What happened to him?

IRMA:
Mengele? I told you I don't know where he is.

PROSECUTOR:
No, the other. The man you followed to Belsen. Your lover.

IRMA:
Oh. I don't know. I really don't. He said we'd be together forever. We would face the end side by side. But when the British tanks rolled in, he was gone. His name hasn't appeared on the arrest lists. Maybe he's safe somewhere. But what does it matter? He's lost to me now.

PROSECUTOR:
I'm sor...

IRMA:
(Moving in even closer to him) I actually believe you are.

PROSECUTOR:
This isn't right. You have done such inhuman things.

IRMA:
(Leaning tenderly, seductively into him) Not inhuman. I assure you, I am quite human.

(They are again under the mistletoe. IRMA takes PROSECUTOR's arms and draws him in for a kiss)

OLGA:
(entering) What the hell you think you're doing!

IRMA:
Did you have to invite her?

OLGA:
You can't feel sorry for her? She's a butcher! An animal!

IRMA:
And yet, there is some pity in his heart for me.

OLGA:
Pity? For you?

IRMA:
It's only natural to pity one so young and so beautiful who's about to die. It's so tragic.

OLGA:
Oh, please. The role of tragic heroine hardly suits you.

IRMA:
Oh, I rather fancy it. Well, I'm certainly not dying for my own sins. War Crime Trials! I spit on them. It was all just a grand circus to show how properly shocked the world was over what Germany had done. And to atone for the fact that they did not do one bloody thing to stop us.

OLGA:
I seem to recall small war over the point.

IRMA:
Germany started that. They had no choice. And it is for their shame I am being sacrificed.

PROSECUTOR:
You're hardly an innocent lamb.

IRMA:
Hardly. But that's not the issue. I'm not on trial here. You are.

(Lights rise up right to reveal a judge's bench. MENGELE is seated behind it, wearing a judge's robe and wig. HELENE, dressed as the EXECUTIONER stands to his right. HELENE wears a long, hooded black cape and black top-boots. The cape is tossed back over her shoulders revealing a short, skin tight black leather skirt, a black corset, and a swastika armband)

MENGELE:
All rise! Court is now in session. Read the charges.

EXECUTIONER:
If it please the court, the accused stands charged with war crimes. Criminal negligence resulting in the deaths of eleven million men, women, and children.

PROSECUTOR:
I don't understand. Why am I dreaming this?

IRMA:
Because of your guilt. You're guilt haunts your dreams. Being a barrister --

MENGELE:
-- your nightmare takes the form of a trial. Complete with judge --

IRMA:
-- jury --

EXECUTIONER:
-- and executioner.

PROSECUTOR:
Ridiculous. I have nothing to feel guilty about.

OLGA:
True. But the guilt is still there. That is good, Major. You cannot so easy sentence someone to die, even when justice cries out for it.

MENGELE:
That is your weakness.

OLGA:
It is our strength.

(OLGA crosses to stand by side of PROSECUTOR)

MENGELE:
Do you speak in his defense?

OLGA:
Yes.

MENGELE:
Since the court is now assembled, let the prosecution present its case.

IRMA:
Your honor, it is the position of the prosecution that the Allied nations conspired tacitly to aid Germany in its final solution to the Jewish problem. By their inaction they enabled the Reich to proceed with the exterminations and thus should share equally in their punishment. Not one nation intervened to prevent Germany from interring Jewish citizens. Oh, they did protest, quietly. But ultimately, they did nothing.

OLGA:
And what could they do?

IRMA:
They could have opened their doors to the poor wretches they accused us of abusing. Before the war, many Jews were free to emigrate. We did not want them. But neither did anyone else.

OLGA:
I object to these charges of

MENGELE:
Overruled.

IRMA:
When Jews tried to escape, the Allied nations slammed the doors in their faces. England, America, even Cuba, you sent them back to us. And we had told the world what we would do with them.

PROSECUTOR:
We had no idea what they were being sent back to face.

OLGA:
No sane nation could envision a place like Auschwitz.

MENGELE:
Ah, but they knew.

IRMA:
Churchill, Stalin, Roosevelt, they all knew.

PROSECUTOR:
There were rumors, of course, early in the war.

IRMA:
Was no credence put in these rumors?

PROSECUTOR:
The sources were considered unreliable.

OLGA:
Why?

PROSECUTOR:
The information came to us primarily from Zionist groups, zea- lots. The rumors were put down to sensationalism.

IRMA:
But proof came later, did it not?

PROSECUTOR:
Eventually proofs of the wild stories started filtering out of Germany.

IRMA:
And still you did nothing?

PROSECUTOR:
Nothing could have been done! The camps were deep inside German territory.

IRMA:
Oh, really? And where the hell was the R.A.F.? We waited for you. We expected the bombing raids. Olga, do you ever remember an air strike near the camp?

OLGA:
No bombs fell on Auschwitz.

PROSECUTOR:
It is most certainly not the policy of his Majesty's government to bomb prison camps.

IRMA:
But railways were fair game. All it would have taken was one bomb. Just one strike on the railstation and you would have put us out of business. No more human fuel for the fires. But you never came. What were you waiting for, an engraved invitation?

PROSECUTOR:
There were difficulties. Technical problems. Priorities had to be established--

OLGA:
Technical problems?!

IRMA:
I see. Perhaps these difficulties arose from your alliance with the Arab nations? Your treaty for Palestine?

PROSECUTOR:
That has nothing to do with this. You're twisting things. I object to --

MENGELE:
Overruled.

IRMA:
And this is the government that so piously sat in judgment of me.

OLGA:
Difficulties ...

PROSECUTOR:
Olga, there was nothing to be done. We could not help you. You must know that. My God! You couldn't even help yourselves.

OLGA:
What?

PROSECUTOR:
It's just -- there are many missed opportunities -- courses of action we might have taken, but didn't. Maybe things could have done differently. But dammit! We had a war to win! And you win wars by killing the enemy, not by trying to save innocent lives.

MENGELE:
Don't be ungrateful, Olga. They destroyed Hitler for you. They liberated you from the camps. What did you do?

OLGA:
We did the dying. Wasn't that enough?

MENGELE:
You could have fought. How different things might have been if every Jew had met us with a bullet instead of meek submission. #12;

IRMA:
If only you'd resisted.

OLGA:
How dare you! How dare you accuse us. Even though we were imprisoned, starved, beaten, still we fought! Your R.A.F. never touched Auschwitz. Only ones ever to strike camp were the pris- oners themselves. Hard it was, risky to conspire against them. But we stole supplies, built a bomb, and we destroyed one of the crematoria. And they never rebuilt it. And many died for it. I risked my life to hide those explosives, and then to pass them to those who could do the most good with them. We did that little bit to stop the slaughter. What did you do? What did you risk?

IRMA:
I seem to recall small war.

PROSECUTOR:
It was most important to strike at the heart of Germany. At Hitler himself. We ended the war for you and for everyone.

OLGA:
How thoughtful of you. You congratulate yourself on decency, bravery to defend the helpless, while at same time smirking at our weakness.

PROSECUTOR:
That's not what I meant. You must believe that.

IRMA:
Who are you trying to convince, Major?

OLGA:
How brave you all were. You who attacked the monster with guns, and tanks, and planes. So easy to be brave with a nation behind you and a full arsenal. We should have met them with bullets? What bullets?! We were thrown in the middle of hell with nothing but the clothes on our backs, and even those were stripped from us.

PROSECUTOR:
I know, I understand --

OLGA:
You have no idea. You think you know what bravery is? You think your soldiers were brave? When they fought the most they risked was their lives. But when we fought, when we resisted, we risked not only our own lives, but lives of our families. Our children.

PROSECUTOR:
Olga, please --

OLGA:
But still we fought! In Warsaw, with our bare hands we fought and with what guns we could steal because the resistance wouldn't sell us any weapons. And at Sobibor. And anywhere we could fight without risking the lives of the innocent. You see, we could not always afford the luxury to die fighting. Not when we knew a hundred lives would be taken as a payment, as an example.

MENGELE:
(Banging gavel) Enough. This has been most illuminating. But would the defense care to present its case?

OLGA:
How can I help him, when he can't even help himself?

(OLGA exits)

MENGELE:
In lieu of a defense, let us proceed to the execution.

PROSECUTOR:
Wait! I petition the court for permission to present my own defense.

MENGELE:
Petition denied.

PROSECUTOR:
I move that the case be dismissed due to lack of counsel for the defense.

MENGELE:
Motion denied. Does the accused wish to accept court-appointed counsel?

PROSECUTOR:
What choice do I have?

MENGELE:
None. Your counselor.

(DEFENSE enters carrying briefcase)

PROSECUTOR:
Oh, bloody hell, not him!

DEFENSE:
I've reviewed the proceedings thus far. Up until this time the prosecution has been light with you. Since incidents of mass murder are well established, it would be best for your case if you admit to them under my questioning, before the prosecution has a chance to --

PROSECUTOR:
I'm doomed.

DEFENSE:
If you could please attend to the matter at hand. After all, it is your defense I am trying to prepare.

PROSECUTOR:
Defense? In this kangaroo court? The outcome's already been decided.

DEFENSE:
Naturally. For yourself there's nothing but the rope.

PROSECUTOR:
For what? Mass murder? It's they who are the murderers, not us.

DEFENSE:
You cannot deny the crimes. Millions of defenseless civilians slaughtered.

PROSECUTOR:
That was them! They did it!

MENGELE:
And what of Hamburg?

IRMA:
Dresden.

EXECUTIONER:
Berlin.

(projections of devasted Hamburg, Dresden, and Berlin accompany the following speeches)

MENGELE:
You condemn us for killing 2,000 an hour at Auschwitz, while at Hamburg 30,000 died in the span of a few hours -- mostly women and children -- from Allied bombs.

IRMA:
And what of Dresden? Leveled, with all its people.

EXECUTIONER:
Three-quarters of Berlin destroyed. 80,000 civilians dead.

MENGELE:
And let us not forget our own allies. What of Hiroshima and Nagasaki?

DEFENSE:
I object. These were clearly acts of war.

MENGELE:
Overruled.

DEFENSE:
I tried. Good luck, old man.

(DEFENSE exits)

..... this ends the sample of "Angel."
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