The Kommandant's Mistress

by Alexandria Constantinova Szeman

  "You love her."

  "Don't be ridiculous."

  "You're in love with a Jew."

  "Marta..."

  "Why won't you go with us? You said you'd never leave me. You promised. Even when you fell in love with that one from Munich."

  "I'm not leaving you. You're the mother of my children."

  "You promised. You swore." Marta put the damp cloth to her eyes as she began to cry again. "You said, 'Till death do us part'."

  I threw down my uniform jacket, and shoved my hands into the luggage. I yanked out my pistol, cocked it, forced it into Marta's hands.

  "Yes, yes, till death do us part," I said. "Kill me."

  She would never have shot me. I gave the girl my gun. Several times. And I always wore my service dagger. Yet she never even wanted to harm me. She was so different from Marta. She came to me when I needed her, and she didn't demand anything of me in return.

  She took the gun from my hands, her fingers stroking its warm barrel, and she laid it on the desk. Her fingers were white against the dark of the gun, against the black of my uniform. She unbuttoned my jacket, and her hands stroked the front of my shirt. Then she unbuttoned my shirt. When she undid my belt, I closed my eyes. Her hands drifted over my body, and her skin was cool on mine. Then warm. Insistent. I leaned back in the chair. I let her push my legs apart and kneel between them.

  The adjutant knocked on the door, but I didn't answer. When the girl bent her head over me, I pushed away the papers on the desktop. I heard the guards calling to each other from outside my window, but while her mouth moved, all words eluded me. The adjutant's phone rang. Once. Twice. Three times. The girl stretched one hand out to touch my face, and the other to stroke my legs. Her mouth was warm and wet and soft on me. All around me was the paper and leather and metal of my life, but when I closed my eyes and she touched me, it all drifted away.

  "I always close my eyes when I drink a fine Cognac," said Adolf, his long nose poised over the glass of amber liquid.

  "That's the best way," I said, nodding.

  "Your wife knows how fond I am of liquor," he said. "She always has a bottle ready."

  "She's always happy to have you visit. It's an honor for us."

  "She's a lovely woman, von Walther."

  "Thank you."

  "A fine cook. A gracious hostess," he said. "A faithful wife."

  "Yes, she's a good wife."

  The others drifted into the living room, settling themselves around the dessert table.

  "What's this?" said one of the officers' girls, her black dress shimmery and tight.

  "Champagne cocktail," said Marta.

  "No, the music."

  "Beethoven's Seventh," said one.

  "Second Movement," said another.

  "Are you sure it's not Mozart?" said the girl, and everyone laughed.

  "Have some strudel," said Marta.

  She passed them the filled plates. The silver clinked against the china, and their voices blended with the music. One of the young officers leaned near Marta and said something to her. She blushed, glancing quickly in my direction, but she smiled. When he kissed her hand, she laughed, gently pushing him away. He smiled at her again before drinking his champagne. Marta stood and, carrying the decanter, came over to me and Adolf.

  "It must give you extraordinary satisfaction," said Adolf. "All that you've accomplished. The life you've made for yourself. Your wife. Your family. Your home."

  "And my work," I said.

  "That's understood," he said.

  "Would you like coffee with your Cognac?" said Marta.

  Adolf shook his head, smiling up at her as she refilled his liquor glass. When the young officer leaned near the girl in the tight black dress, her fiancé crossed the room and sat on the couch between them. The young officer laughed, and slapped his colleague on the back.

  "Without my work, the rest wouldn't be as rewarding," I said.

  "Of course," Adolf said, nodding. "Having millions of Jews on my conscience gives me such extraordinary satisfaction that I could jump into my grave laughing."

  "I can understand that," I said, accepting coffee and cake from Marta. "Work makes us greater than we are."

  "Sometimes, I feel like God himself," said Adolf, and he leaned forward, his face suddenly intent. "God can't possibly be as small as in the Bible stories, can he?"

  Whose God? Theirs? I never believed in God. I didn't need him. Besides, He'd already betrayed me. No, long before the end. At the end, shells were exploding outside the camp. The building shook with each explosion. Planes whined overhead, and machine guns rattled. The girl sat huddled in my desk chair. On my desk lay three blue-white capsules.

  "Kommandant, Kommandant," said my adjutant, knocking on the office door. "The car is waiting."

  I pulled the girl's hand up. She looked at me. Her hand was cold. I pressed a lone capsule into it.

  "Hurry, Kommandant," said my adjutant, his knocking more insistent, more like pounding.

  I closed the girl's fingers around the capsule, my hands around hers. Her body trembled, but not from fear. Another shell exploded, rocking the ground beneath us, dashing books and weapons from my cabinets and shelves. Shouts and screams filled the air of the camp.

  "Kommandant," said my adjutant. "Kommandant."

  "Du. Freiheit," I said to the girl.

  Then I left her there.

  "Commander. Commander."

  The knocking on the door imitated the pounding in my head.

  "I know you're in there, Commander."

  I jerked awake.

  "Let me in, Commander. Open up."

  I crept out of the bed and peered through the security hole. An unshaven, obese man stood outside the door. In the glare of the motel's lights, his suit looked rumpled, cheap. He pulled a handkerchief from his pants pocket and mopped his face. He began knocking again.

  "Wake up, Commander. Let me in."

  I was already dressed. I'd been sleeping in my clothes for weeks. I checked my pockets, shoved my gun behind my belt, and grabbed the books.

  "I know who you are," he said. "I know what you did."

  My keys and change jingled slightly as I climbed onto the bathroom sink, and eased open the window above it. He knocked louder.

  "I have a business proposition for you," he said.

  A nail in the ledge caught my trousers, scraping my skin.

  "Damn."

  I wrestled my trousers free and slipped to the ground. He was still at the motel door. I went to the car, unlocked the door, and slipped inside.

  "I know who you are. I have a solution to your problem," he said, still knocking. "I've come to save you."

  Chapter Five

  "We have a solution," said Reinhard after we had settled ourselves at the conference table.

  We all looked at him.

  "You gentlemen have been specifically chosen," he said, "based on your service to the Party, to help implement this solution."

  It was a small group. I was proud to be among them. In the distance, an approaching train blew its whistle. I sat up straighter, to hear everything that was going to be said.

  "We have to settle the Jewish question in all the territories under our protection," he said.

  We nodded.

  "This has always been one of the Party's primary concerns, and its importance has increased with each of our conquests."

  The officers murmured in agreement.

  "Now that our territory has expanded significantly eastward, our problem has become more urgent."

  He looked around the table. Several of the others leaned forward. My own heart pounded. This was what we'd been waiting for. We held our breath.

  "Gentlemen, I have been instructed to carry out preparations with regard to the Solution of the Jewish Question."

  We applauded. He nodded. The sun from the windows was bright in the room, and it shone all around him. He smiled. We continued clapping. He held up his hand. We kept clapping. Outside, the train
roared by, its smoke billowing up into the clear sky, its whistle ringing in our ears. Reinhard smiled, holding up both hands, for silence, but nothing could stop us. We clapped until our palms stung. Until our hands hurt.

  My forearm ached. It was still tender. Each time I moved and my sleeve touched the skin, I could feel the cut. I pulled off my boots, and lowered myself until I knelt before the girl, till I sat on my heels before her. I could feel the cold of the floor through my pants. I unbuttoned my uniform jacket and removed it, laying it on the floor beside me, next to the boots. With deliberate movements I rolled up my left shirtsleeve. The girl watched me in silence. My fingers got tangled in the cloth. My arm was aching, but I didn't let my face show it. Eventually I managed to fold up enough material to expose my forearm. I held out my arm to the girl.

  There, on my inner left forearm, red and inflamed, still swollen from the cutting: a triangle atop an inverted triangle, her six-pointed star.

  There was no more blood. Just the red welts of the cutting. I couldn't have been too drunk: the lines were too straight, the angles too sharp. With my service dagger. On my inner left forearm. No, that other was just a cigarette burn, from another time. No, no numbers. Just her name.

  "Jetzt bin ich ein Jude," I said.

  Her mouth opened as if she were going to speak. Finally, we might understand each other. Finally, we might be able to touch each other. Her brow furrowed, and she trembled. I nodded, and stroked her thigh. I moved closer to her, to see her better. I took her hand and placed her fingers on my forearm, on the scar. She raised her head. Her eyes, when she looked at me, were like nothing I'd ever seen.

  "Jetzt bin ich ein Jude."

  She slapped me.

  "Now you're one of us," said the officer as he shook my hand, then he turned to the small, thin gentleman with wire-framed glasses. "This is von Walther."

  "Von Walther," Heinrich said, nodding. "Welcome. What did you think of the rally?"

  "Excellent, sir. And your speech was very inspiring."

  He smiled, nodding to several other men after they hailed him.

  "Von Walther. That name sounds familiar."

  "I've mentioned him to you before," said my sponsor, and his hand on my back urged me forward.

  "Have you?"

  "Not only does von Walther have his baptismal certificate and those of his parents and grandparents, but he's proven his non-Jewish descent from 1750."

  "Do we have an officer candidate?" said Heinrich.

  "I hope so, sir," I said.

  Heinrich stepped closer, peering up at me from behind his glasses. When he motioned with his hand, I leaned nearer.

  "This is a page of glory in our history which has never been written. It may never be written," Heinrich said. "Do you have the strength for that? The hardness? Do you have enough heart?"

  "'He has the requisite hardness'," I wrote, and the office door opened.

  "Kommandant, there's a problem with..."

  "Josef, I asked you to knock before you come in."

  "I thought that was only when..."

  "Whenever you come in," I said, "if you don't mind."

  He glanced around the office for the girl. She lay on the cot, covered with a thin blanket.

  "Of course not, sir. I didn't realize I was disturbing you."

  He came over to the desk and held out a letter to me.

  "There's a problem with the shipment, sir."

  When I accepted the letter, he looked down at what I had been writing. I rested my forearms on my papers. I folded the letter he had given me and laid it aside.

  "It's important, sir."

  "I'll take care of it."

  "It's urgent, sir."

  "Yes, I'll take care of it."

  My adjutant stared at my papers. I shuffled the handwritten pages into a stack.

  "Is there anything you need me to help you with, sir?"

  "No, thank you."

  "Shall I type up some of this extra work?"

  "No, thank you, Josef," I said, stopping his hand when he reached for some of the pages. "That will be all."

  "I'll be at my desk when you're ready to answer the letter, sir."

  "Thank you, Josef."

  "Sorry for disturbing you, sir."

  I nodded.

  "I'll be sure to knock in the future, sir."

  "Yes."

  "After I knock, shall I wait for you to answer before I..."

  "Yes. Yes. Dismissed."

  He saluted. I picked up the letter and glanced at it until he closed the door. I was always being interrupted, if not by the camp's routine or its problems, then by Marta or the children. I often got up in the middle of the night, just to have some time to myself, to be free of the constant demands. As soon as my adjutant closed my office door, I put the letter aside, and spread out my papers. Then I returned to my writing.

  Ilse spread some papers in my lap after dinner.

  "Look, Daddy," she said. "Mommy made me some dolls out of paper."

  "That's nice."

  "Some boy dolls. And some girl dolls," said Ilse.

  She reached over the newspaper I was reading to show me. I nodded at them.

  "Yes. Very nice."

  "And they can play with my real dolls. Even though they're only paper."

  "That's nice, Ilse. Now let Daddy read."

  "Not so close to the fire, Ilse," said Marta, and Ilse settled herself at my feet. "It's almost bedtime."

  "I know," said Ilse.

  "Say 'good-night' to your brother," said Marta.

  "Good-night, Hans."

  Marta held Hans down in front of my newspaper.

  "Say 'good-night' to Hans, Daddy."

  "Good-night, Hans."

  "Good-night, Daddy," said Marta.

  She touched the baby's wet mouth to my cheek, then went upstairs. Ilse leaned against my legs as she arranged her dolls into two groups. I drank some of my coffee, and turned the newspaper page.

  Ilse's stuffed doll knocked aside one of the paper dolls.

  "Out of my way, Jew," said Ilse in a deep voice.

  Several of the other paper dolls scrambled to my feet. They hopped onto my shoes. They slipped off. The stuffed dolls formed themselves into a straight line at the side of the chair, then marched closer to my legs.

  "We've got a problem, sir," said Ilse in her play-voice. "What? An escape. How many? Two or three. How? Cut the wire. Call out the dogs. Yes, sir."

  Ilse barked softly as the little paper dolls jumped onto my legs, as they climbed up my trousers, as they hid themselves behind my knees and under my thighs. The fire hissed and sparked as I turned the pages of the newspaper.

  "Bang. Bang," said Ilse.

  Several of the paper dolls fell, screaming, from my legs to the wooden floor. The stuffed dolls rushed over and stamped on the fallen paper dolls.

  "There's another one. Don't let him go. Get that Jew with the baby. Bang. Bang."

  When the paper dolls crashed into my newspaper, I shifted it away. I drank the last of my coffee. The paper dolls bumped into my newspaper again. I crossed my legs, crushing several of the paper dolls who were in hiding.

  "Oh, no, the Kommandant," said Ilse. "Help us. Help us. Too late for you Jews. Bang. Bang."

  The paper dolls bashed into my legs. They bumped into the newspaper, making me lose my place. I started the article over.

  "Oh, no. Save us. Save us, Kommandant."

  The paper dolls threw themselves over the newspaper, landing in my lap.

  "That's enough, Ilse," I said.

  I gathered up the dolls that had jumped the paper and handed them to her.

  "It's time for bed."

  "But we didn't get all the escaped Jews back yet."

  I extricated paper dolls from around my legs and from beside the chair cushions. I passed them to her.

  "Yes, you did. Bedtime."

  Ilse gathered up the scattered paper dolls. There were faint cries as she crumpled some of them, as the stuffed dolls mar
ched over and punched some of the paper dolls, as the rest of the paper dolls crashed to the floor.

  "That's enough now, Ilse. Bedtime."

  She knelt in front of the fire screen, and tossed the paper dolls into the fire.

  "Into the gas with you," she said.

  "Time for bed, Ilse," said Marta, coming downstairs.

  The paper dolls, screaming faintly, blackened and curled in the flames.

  "Kiss Daddy good-night."

  The papers in my office were scattered on the floor. I dropped my briefcase and rushed over to my desk, without closing the door. I looked over at the girl. She sat in the corner. She was chewing a crust of bread. Her breathing wasn't heavy. Her cheeks weren't flushed. But the papers were all over the floor. I knelt and gathered them up.

  "Josef," I said, and my adjutant entered. "Has anyone been in my office?"

  "I don't know, sir. I was with you."

  "I mean earlier."

  "Not that I'm aware of, sir. Is there a problem?"

  "No. No problem. Just some disarrayed papers."

  "I'll help you, sir."

  "No, that's all right. I'll get them myself."

  "Shall I close the windows, sir?"

  "No. That's all right."

  "Are you sure you don't want me to straighten the papers for you?"

  "No. That won't be necessary. I'll take care of it."

  "Yes, sir. Anything else?"

  "No. Thank you, Josef."

  My adjutant righted my briefcase and moved it slightly so he could shut the office door. I looked at the girl. She didn't move. I looked at the papers. I must have forgotten to put them away. Without going through them, I arranged them into a stack and put them into my desk drawers. I turned the key. I tugged at the locked center drawer. It didn't open. The girl bit another corner of the dark crust and chewed steadily, watching me as I moved to the window. I put my hand on the wooden frame and closed it.

  I closed the window and pulled the drapes. I locked the motel door and put on the chain. I pushed the chair to the door and shoved its back under the handle. Not that it made any difference. My hand was trembling when I turned on the bedside lamp. The room stank of cigarette smoke. There were holes burnt in the carpet. The wall next to the bathroom door was stained, and the wallpaper beside the bed was peeling. When I sat on the bed, the mattress sagged. In the next room, the couple started their nightly argument. I turned the envelope over and over in my hands: it was from the publisher. Her publisher. Holding my breath, I opened the envelope. As slowly and carefully as possible, I opened the letter.