Scene 1
Aloud bell clangs…Bright prison lights snap on. Helmuth sits stretches. It’s cold. He rubs his arms beneath his drab gray prison smock. He walks across the bare floor to the corner. Raises his smock, urinates into the lop bucket. For a moment the stink from the bucket grows. Becomes thick then thins, becomes ordinary again. He lifts his bed, hooks it into place. Sits on the stool. Waits.
Scene 2
Footsteps, a rustling sound at the heavy blue door. Helmuth takes a great gulp of air, his heart pounds in his ears. The small latch window slides open. Please, God, no, not the executioner. He sees an eye a nose half a mouth half a face. The morning guard. Helmuth breaths again. Part of a prisoner’s punishment is not knowing his execution date. For a second their eyes meet, the guard pushes a cup of lukewarm malt coffee and a hunk of dried bread through the window. The window snaps shut. Helmuth rejoices with relief. Gives thanks to the meager morning meal. He knows letters have been sent on his behalf, asking for clemency; today perhaps will bring good news.
Scene 3
And so the morning of day 264 begins like every other morning on the death row. Helmuth uses the slop bucket again. A hand full of cut up square news paper pieces. Picks out the ones with Hitler’s name on them to scrap himself.
Scene 4
From down the corridor, Helmuth hears footsteps. White-hot fear blazes down his back. The footsteps pass his door, it stops several doors away. The fear turns to cold sweat. The rattle of keys, a door swinging open. A guards voice “come with us, its time” that’s what the guards say when they escort a prisoner to the low red-brick execution chamber in the court yard, where the guillotine waits. A wailing sets up “NO!” Helmuths stomach turns; he hears blows, the dull thuds of truncheons, the kicks of boots, the shaking of handcuffs. A door slams, sobs, a drag of feet. A minute passes, two minutes, three. Then in the distance, metal against mental. The guillotine snaps its iron jaws with a clang that rings through the prison. Helmuths insides turn to water. He rushes to the slop bucket, throws up. He drags his arm across his mouth. He kneels beside the window and prays for the soul of his neighbor.
Scene 5
The sound of feet ring outside Helmuths cell. A key turns the lock, and the door swings open. Helmuth catches his breath, releases it slowly. It’s the morning guard. Exercise time. Helmuth picks up his slop bucket, carries it outside, waits his turn to empty it and hose it out. Every thing feels magnified in the prison yard, the crisp autumn air, the grass, the trees, the leaves, red yellow orange, the sky blue, the clouds white, the sun yellow. So much color, so much air, so much light, so much everything, it hurts. The guard barks a command. The prisoners trudge clockwise around the prison yard, marching single file on the worn path, their gray prison smocks billowing like the wings of birds. It’s verboten to speak to other prisoners. Helmuth keeps his head down, doesn’t want to see the new faces and the missing ones, after the executioner has done his work.
Scene 6
He looks down his thin legs, knobby knees, his worn leather shoes, no shoe laces. The grass, the dirt. Thinks instead of his to best friends, Rudi Wobbe and Karl-Heinz Schnibbe. Sees Rudi’s worried face and Karl’s big grin. As ace comfortable with smiling. The boys lived in different neighborhoods, attended different schools, but belonged to the same Mormon Church. Their aren’t many Mormons in Hamburg
Scene 7
Exercise time ends. The guard barks anther command. Helmuth retrieves his slop bucket, and trudges back to his cell. Sets the slop bucket in the corner. Its time to clean. Helmuth takes his time, stretch each time to pass the morning. He dusts the table, the chair, the floor, the corners, especially the corners. Dust is verboten. Helmuth winces, doesn’t want to think about the punishment that brings dust. As he cleans, he wonders about Franz Seemann, wonders if he was truly guilty, wonders how held up under the Gestapo interrogation that he certainly received. Helmuth knows about Gestapo interrogation now. He Knows the prisoners will say anything, admit anything to make the torture stop. He wishes how he can tell Franz Seemann how sorry he is. Helmuth digs vigorously at the dust in the corner.
Scene 8
Dust motes in the late-morning sunlight. Helmuth follows the swirling stream to the cell window. Stand on tip-toe, reaches to wipe the window sill. Its verboten to look out the window, but later he will listen for footsteps in the corridor, the jangle of keys and when its clear, he will stand on the table. He will gaze beyond the high re-brick wall. The red tile roof tops, the spike Church steeples, the linden and chestnut trees. A sparrow flits by, nearly tempts him to the window, but he stops himself. He wants to save the best of the afternoon for later. Doesn’t want to sit either. And so he paces. Eight steps the length of the cell. He pushes the back wall. Back and forth, back and forth. He blocks out the jangle of keys, the clang of cell doors opening, closing, the words “come with us, its time”.
Scene 9
Noon. The small window in the cell door slides open again. A bowl of watery cabbage soup is shoved through. The soup is possible to eat if you don’t stop to smell it, doesn’t stop to think about his grandmothers soup, her thick beef-and-barely soup, and the crusty bread to sop up the hearty broth. He longs for a letter. He misses his family terribly, so terribly he aches. He know he has caused much sorrow, much hardship. Especially Gerhard. That he regrets, and only that. He gulps down the thin soup.
Scene 10
And so prison day number 264 passes slowly, the same as every other Tuesday, until five minutes past one o’ clock. It is then that Helmuth hears several footsteps outside his cell and the rattle of keys. His heart beats rapidly. He leaps to his feet, stands at attention. Four uniformed prison officials enter his cell. They loom inside the small space, taking up all the air. Two guards accompany the officials, their hands gripping their clubs. Ready, always ready, that’s what guards are. Helmuth barks his name “schutzhaftgefangener Hübener!” prisoner Hübener! Even after all these months, Hugos name “Hübener” fells strange to his mouth. Six pairs of eyes study him. “Helmuth Hübener,” says one of the men. Helmuth’s heart pounds in his ears. He doesn’t know this man, but to hear him say his name so formally, makes his skin tingle. This is an official visit. He knows important people have written letters on his behalf, people like his attorney and his senior district Hitler Youth leader and even Hugo, asking for clemency. He’s afraid of hope, but he can’t stop hope from beating inside his chest. Helmuth nods “yes, sir!” he answers, his mouth as dry as sand. “I am First State Attorney Herr Ranke,” the man says. “Executor leader.” He pause, lets the title settle over Helmuth. The title injects Helmuth with white heat. This is the man who observes all the execution. Helmuth sways, puts his hand on the wall, to keep himself from melting. Herr Ranke continues “I am appearing by instruction of the Attorney General of the People’s Court.” Helmuth straitens himself, stands tall. He looks Herr Ranke in the eye. Doesn’t dare breath, must keep hope from fly out of his chest. He hears Herr Ranke’s pocket watch. Tick. Tick. Tick. Between each tick a thousand images flash through Helmuths mind.
Scene 11
With each tick of the pocket watch, Helmuth’s heart pounds harder. Herr Ranke glances down at the official-looking paper. He begins to read slowly and clearly, enunciating each word importantly: “‘On the eleventh of August 1942 the court found Helmuth Hübener guilty of listening to a foreign radio station and distributing the news heard in connection with conspiracy to commit high treason and treasonable support of the enemy.’” must not breathe, must keep hope swallowed inside, must not let hope fly out of throat. “‘He is sentenced to death and loss of civil rights during his lifetime.’” The words begin to shoot out of the cell, exploding of walls, striking Helmuth like bullets. Bang. The National Minister of Justice has decreed that there will be no clemency. Bang. Justice will run its course. Bang the execution will take place on October 27 1942 after eight P.M. tonight. The floor buckles beneath Helmuth and the walls waver. The single light bulb over head throbs hurts his eyes, burns into his skull. He closes his eyes, squeezes them shut, wont let the tears escape, wills them way. Helmuth opens his eyes. The men are still there. The prison guards grip their truncheons, pulsing, pulsing, pulsing. “Have you any final requests?” asks Herr Ranke. Helmuth licks his dry lips. “Yes,” he whispers hoarsely. “I would like to write letters to my family.” “So be it,” says Herr Ranke. Their job done, the men to on their heels and, one by one, leave the cell. Single file. Slam. Click the cell door bolts shut. Helmuth reaches for the wall behind him, sinks to the floor, clutches his belly, lets out a deep wail. Hope flies from his chest, flutters around the room, beats against the window.
Scene 12
Helmuth sits on the floor beneath the window in a square of sunlight. He can barley breathe when he thinks about what lies ahead. He focuses his mind, doesn’t want to be numb. Want to think to, feel. He listens to the sound of prison. From the hall, a metallic clattering sound, doors opening, doors closing. From another cell sobs. From a passing guard, footfalls. From the prison yard, a tramp of feet. From the city, sirens. The square of sunshine moves, defuses, grows faint yellow. Helmuth feels lost in a dream. Karl and Rudi enter the dream. Their faces float in front of him, then fade out, and enter again, first one, then the other, and then the three of them together.
Scene 13
Six P.M. A prison guard brings Helmuth paper, a fountain pen, blue ink. For his final letters. Helmuth pulls up his stool to the scratchy table, he spreads out the first sheet of paper, smooths it with his hand. He knuckles away tears. What will he tell hi family? That he was foolish to think that he could wage battle against such evil? No. Helmuth does not believe he was foolish. He did not risk his life in vain. God can bring good out of evil, but god can’t do it alone. God needs people. People who stand up. People who will dare to speak out. For what has a man profited, if he has gained the whole world and lost is soul? That’s what the Bible says. Helmuth feels something. His chest swells. A warm calmness fills him, and he knows that he has lived a life that stood for something.
Scene 14
Helmuth huffs the ink dry on the last letter. It is 8:05 P.M. he reads it again, wonders what his family will think. He knows it will be hard on Gerhard. He hopes his letters comfort him. Bring him solace. The brusque pound of feet. The jangle of keys. The scrape of metal against metal. Helmuth stands, ready. He has made up his mind to go quietly, with dignity and courage. The door swings open. Two guards enter. “prisoner Hübener come with us” says one “its time.” The other shackles Helmuths hands behind his back. Helmuth walks without stumbling, down the long corridor, outside in the court yard, he draws in the crisp night air. It feels good. Above the tall redbrick execution shed, between the leafless tree branches, the moon is full, opalescent. Helmuth enters. Later, a Snap rings through the corridor.
