Great Short Stories

by Stan Mason

  The landlord stared at him placing one of the filled pint glasses on the bar. ‘The Third Reich was finished over sixty years ago,’ he declared bluntly. ‘What’s your point?’

  ‘We intend to come to life again,’ claimed Schwarz arrogantly, leering into the other man’s face. ‘I’ll bring it in next Monday and you can hang it up next to that rag then.’

  ‘And what if I refuse?’ retorted the landlord sullenly, knowing that he would never be able to win the battle.

  One of the members of the gang stared at him as though stunned at the negative response. ‘Are you crazy, man!’ he spluttered. ‘If you refuse, your inn will be in ruins!’ he returned curtly. ‘We’ll burn the place down... destroy everything that’s here. You won’t have a business any more!’

  ‘Just like the Germans wanted to do in the Second World War,’ retorted the landlord boldly, tiring of the threat. ‘Tell me, on which planet do you people live?’

  ‘You’ve got the wrong end of the stick!’ snapped Scwarz angrily. ‘It’s a downright lie! The Third Reich didn’t want to destroy anything. Their main desire was to create a new world... a stable one! Look what’s happened to Europe today! It’s an utter shambles. The Third Reich would have united Europe to become a great continent!’

  ‘Like hell they would have!’ reacted a customer sitting in a corner of the inn. ‘Those bastards wanted to rule the bloody world... and they didn’t care how they did it! You neo-nazis make me sick. You have no idea what it’s all about!’’

  The atmosphere hinged on a hair-spring for a moment as the gang turned their attention to the man. Other customers began muttering their dissent, throwing their lot in with him, and a fight swiftly ensued during which glasses were thrown at the bar, smashing the mirror behind it, as well as damaging many bottles of spirits. Chairs were overturned and smashed, tables rolled over and splintered, while severe damage was done to the pictures and items hung from the walls. After five minutes of desparate fisticuffs, the main room of the inn was in ruins. Shortly, the police arrived to quell the disorder. They entered the inn and started to separate the two conflicting factions. In the end, despite listening to everyone’s version of the debacle, they were forced to let the gang go free due to lack of evidence and they told the landlord to claim on his insurance for the damage done. There had been a vicious fight and lots of damage had been carried out but everyone claimed that someone else had started the conflict so the police were forced to allow provocation to rule the day.

  After going down the road, singing bawdy songs and the Horst Wessel song, the gang eventually scattered to make their way home. It was to be an early night for them as they were going to fly to Germany on the following day to watch Hamburg play Liverpool in the quarter final of the football Champions League.

  Schwarz entered the room he rented from a local landlord and looked around it with great pleasure. There was a huge red flag with a black swastika spread across one wall. On another hung a large photograph of Adolf Hitler. A third wall bore a photograph of his grandfather dressed in a high-ranking German uniform. He raised his arm in a salute calling out the old German greeting: ‘Heil Hitler!’ before going to one of the drawers of a dressing-table and removing a small box. Opening it, he stared at the Iron Cross that rested neatly inside. It had been awarded to his grandfather by the Fuehrer himself for honour on the battlefield with an inscription on the back which said “To Heinrich Schwarz for bravery”. He went towards his grandfather’s photograph, holding the Iron Cross high up in front of him.

  ‘Don’t concern yourself, Grandfather,’ he muttered solemnly. ‘I’ll get your revenge for Germany losing the war. I’ll pay them back for what they did to the Nazis. You leave it to me!’

  He moved away, placing the Iron Cross around his neck. He would take it with him on the following day to the country where it was made and first awarded. He sat on the edge of the bed thoughtfully shaking his head in amazement. How could the Third Reich, with all its military might and advanced weapons have lost the Second World War... especially when they had conquered most of Europe and occupied it. To him the end result was inconceivable! And then humiliation was poured upon the family. He had hated the decision of his grandfather to send him to Britain shortly after the war because of the devastation and hardship suffered by the Germans in defeat. Well there was nothing he could have done about that. However he recognised that now was his chance to alter the situation.

  The following morning, he and his gang were destined to fly to the Continent. His main intention on arriving there was to root out all those still in favour of Nazism and group them together to fight against its German authorities with a view to returning it to its former position in 1941 in Europe. Anyone with pride and belief in Germany becoming a strong powerful independent nation again would surely consider joining him!

  The all gathered together at the airport to board the plane which would fly them to their beloved Germany. When it landed in Hamburg, they disembarked and paraded around the airport displaying a number of placards which they had folded and hidden beneath their clothing. The slogans were extremely pointed reading: ‘Bring the Nazis back to life!’ ‘Make Germany a major power again!’ ‘Europe for Germany!’ and ‘Germany and Nazism go together!’

  Naturally, as they walked around the airport displaying their placards in a peaceful protest, their actions were picked up by national television and the police were called swiftly into resolve the situation. The gang continued touring the area for a while longer, holding their placards high, as they yelled and shouted at the top of their voices proclaiming that Nazism should be allowed to rise again and that the German people should support them wholeheartedly. However it was doubtful whether anyone was materially interested having suffered the ignominy of a very vicious defeat in the past. Nonetheless, the protest managed to continue for almost fifteen minutes. When the police waded in, the gang put up a relatively weak resistance, having made their point, and at first they thought that they had all been arrested. However, after some discussion between the police and certain leading politicians, who were clearly embarrassed by the protest, they were pressed to proceed to the railway station to board a train which was scheduled to take them to the football stadium where the match was to be played.

  Schwarz smiled at the others as they made themselves comfortable in their seats. ‘Well fellas,’ he told them bluntly. ‘We showed our hand... but that’s only the start. When we come out after the match, we’ll really give them Hell! Something they won’t forget in a hurry!’

  His comment was greeted with accord from the rest of the gang for they had another, even more destructive, plan on their minds. The protest with the placards was only the start and a considerably feeble one at that. The next incident would be something much more ambitious... much more pernicious... for each one of them carried a small item on his person which together could be assembled to make two large bombs. They clearly intended to make their journey count strongly in favour of their cause.

  The train started off and shortly picked up speed as it went on its journey. Its engine committed a faint whirring sound, almost like a whisper but, some minutes later, as soon as they reached a tunnel the sound altered to a clickety-click clickety-clack as heard from the old trains in the past. When it exited the tunnel, Schwarz was stunned by the change in the environment. Everything was different! To his amazement, his gang was no longer there... they had simply disappeared from sight. About twenty passengers were sitting in seats in the carriage. They were dressed in poor dowdy clothing quite reminiscent of a past age. Schwarz tried to adjust his mind to his new surroundings as the train slowed down and stopped allowing two SS Officers dressed in black uniforms with the SS insignia on their collars and arms, to enter. Immediately they approached the passengers demanding to see the papers of each of them. When they eventually came to Schwarz, he fished into his pocket to produce his British passport. One of the offi
cers examined it carefully and glanced at his colleague.

  ‘Ein Englishe,’ he muttered grimly. He turned his attention back to Schwarz with an austere expression on his face. ‘Was machst du hier?’ he asked.

  Schwarz replied in perfect German having been taught the language by his mother after they had emigrated to England. ‘I’m here with my friends for the Hamburg-Liverpool football match,’ he stated firmly.

  ‘Football match? Hamburg and Liverpool?’ guffawed the first SS Officer rudely. ‘What football match? Don’t you know there’s a war on? And you say you’re with friends. I see no other British people here.’

  The New Fuehrer felt alone and lost as he tried to rally his thoughts. It was as though he had ventured back in time to the year 1941. Yes... he had gone back in time! At that moment, a passenger at the other end of the carriage started to panic for he clearly had no papers to show them. He stood up quickly and began to run for the door, emerging on to the platform where he tried to escape up a flight of stairs which led to the other side. The second SS Officer drew a revolved from its holster, stepped out of the carriage, aimed carefully, and fired at the running man who fell into a heap. The officer calmly returned the pistol into its correct place and re-entered the compartment joining his colleague as though nothing had happened. Before their interrogation of Schwarz could continue, the sound of marching feet could be heard to reverberate along the flagstones of the platform as a contingent of soldiers moved forward with regular precision. At that moment, a train pulled in slowly on the opposite line stopping at the station. It comprised a number of wooden compartments, some of which were illuminated only by bars fixed to a place where the window should have been. Schwarz looked across at the compartments to observe the faces of mournful desperate people which were pressed against them. It was quite obvious that each carriage was vastly overcrowded.

  ‘What’s going on?’ he asked with a puzzled expression on his face although he already believed that he knew the answer.

  ‘Juden,’ returned the first SS Officer turning up his nose in ostensible disgust. ‘They are being sent to a concentration camp where they will work for sixteen hours each day until they are no further use to the Reich.’

  ‘What happens to them then?’ came the question.

  ‘They will be taken to the gas chambers and killed of course,,’ responded the second SS Officer as though it was a natural consequence. ‘What use is a Jew who cannot work?’

  The sound of Kaddish, the Jewish prayer to the dead, could be heard to be sung from one of the carriages and a voice screamed out: ‘A woman is dead in here. Can you take her off the train?’

  The plea was ignored by the soldiers, one of whom waved an arm towards the train driver. Within seconds, the carriages were wending their way out of the station towards the horror faced by the saddened passengers on their arrival at the concentration camp.

  Schwarz had read the history of the German attitude towards the Jews and other nationals and he had watched films on television on the subject. However he had adamantly refused to believe that such atrocities had ever taken place. He was convinced that it was the work of Allied propagandists intent on influencing the public against the German nation. Now he was witnessing the true situation first-hand. He suddenly realised what it meant to be a Jew in Germany during the war. They would be worked mercilessly like dogs, fed scraps of food, and after three months would end up like skeletons unable to work any more. Then they would be carted to a building inside the concentration camp and gassed there like animals. It was a moment of truth which started to cause him to waver about the rise of Nazism in Germany and the actions of the authorities at that time.

  A tiny child, two-and-a-half years old, in the carriage broke free from her mother and ran towards the first SS Officer. When she reached him, she grasped his leg and held on to it firmly as though it were a toy doll. Without hesitation, the officer dislodged the girl, kicking her fiercely in the head so that she fell unconscious a short distance away. The child’s mother rose in anger to attack the officer who drew his revolver from its holster and, without hesitation, shot her between the eyes. After that, he turned to the young child and kicked her so hard that she sailed to the other end of the carriage smashing her head against the wall. Schwarz was revolted by the action. He had formed a gang which terrorised a neighbourhood and, indeed, they had hurt some people physically, but this form of activity, murdering women and children, without cause, and taking off Jews to concentration camps to be gassed, was far beyong any remit he wished to pursue. It was as though a magic wand had been passed over him for it was eminently a moment of truth as to what had really happened when the Nazis were in power.

  The situation turned very nasty against Schwarz as his mobile telephone suddenly started to bleep in his pocket. The expressions on the faces of the two SS Oficers became extremely stern and they hauled him out of his seat, searching through his pockets. One of them seized teh mobile telephone, pointing it directly at the traveller’s face.

  ‘What is this?’ he shouted above the ringing tone.

  ‘It’s a mobile telephone,’ explained the New Fuhrer weakly.

  ‘And where is the bomb it will explode?’ came the question in a very sharp form.

  ‘It’s not to explode a bomb! It’s for communicating with other people!’

  ‘Other spies, you mean!’ savaged the second officer bluntly.

  ‘If you let me press that button... ’

  ‘Do not touch it!’ yelled the first officer at the top of his voice. ‘Keep your fingers away!’ He placed the telephone in his pocket. ‘I will keep this machine and we will find out what it does.’

  They then dragged him out of the carriage on to the platform, forcing him down on his knees.

  ‘You are a British spy!’ accused the first officer brutally taking his revolver from its holster. ‘I will show you what we do to spies. I will shoot you here and now!’

  ‘No!’ intervened the second officer, holding on to his colleague’s arm. ‘He’s a British spy so let’s get as much information out of him as we can. He waved an arm to the sergeant in front of the uniformed soldiers who came running forward. ‘Take this man to Headquarters immediately. He is to be interrogated as a British spy,’ he ordered in a commanding tone. ‘Do not let him escape... he’s a British spy!’

  ‘Heil Hitler,’ exclaimed the soldier giving the German salute before pulling Schwarz to his feet. He dragged him into the compartment of another train which had just entered the station, throwing him roughly into a seat. The New Fuhrer rued his situation which at that particular time looked very grave. Of one thing he was certain, he had only just managed to escape death by a fraction. The soldier sat opposite him with his rifle pointed directly at Schwarz’s head. There was clearly no means of escape... he would have to face his fate at Headquarters being interrogated and tortured, ending up being shot as a spy.

  The train started off and shortly it came to a tunnel. As it emerged, at the other end, a new light shone through the windows. It appeared that he was sitting on the same train as he had initially started with his gang sitting opposite him. His mind was in turmoil. He had apparently gone through a time shift, moving back over sixty years to the Second World War and the experience had been horrendous. He couldn’t get the anguish and desperation of the Jews in the carriages of the train taking them to the concentration camp out of his head. He could still hear their screams and moans and the singing of the Kaddish... and there was the dead woman in an overcrowded carriage that the soldiers refused to move. Until now, he had always considered Jews to be a second-class citizens at the bottom end of human life but having witnessed their plight during the war he was appalled at their fate at the hands of those in charge in Germany. It was quite clear to him that such criminal activity and war crimes started from the top and was allowed to filter down to the last German soldier who gassed the Jews
in those deadly chambers. And then there was the incident with the man who tried to escape as well as the mother and her baby child. Such actions were totally irresponsible and unnecessary. He envisaged the SS Officer kicking the child to the end of the carriage after having killed her mother and shuddered at the callousness and brutality. Subseqently, his conscience became pricked to the point where he began to despise himself for carrying on a cause which operated such evil deeds. The pictures he had seen when the American troops had opened the concentration camps after the war had ended, showing survivors looking like skeletons, had been disbelieved by him as entirely false. He considered such photographs to be propaganda against the German Wehrmacht. Now it was quite apparent that he had misled himself. The stories of cruelty and brutality by a callous and brutal regime were all true. Nazis had been sent from Hell to torture and torment the human race, some of it to extinction.

  ‘Can’t wait for the match to end,’ commented one of the gang, feeling his part of the bombs underneath his sweater.

  ‘Me neither,’ remarked another with glee showing in his face. ‘We’re certainly gonna shake up these people.’

  There had been plans to explode two bombs in the city. The first was to erupt in the St. Pauli Reeperbahn quarter, known as die Ankerplatz der Freude, which translated as the Anchorage of Joy. The second bomb would be set against the Bismark Monument close to St. Michael’s church whose greenish cupola was accessible by an elevator. Schwarz would first contact the German television networks before the explosions took place outlining their demands for the cause. Although they all expected to be arrested for the disruption, their cause would be clearly highlighted to the German nation. However, the effects of the incidents which had occurred after the first train had gone through the tunnel were sufficient to make Schwarz rethink the situation. The moment of truth had its impact on the New Fuehrer who suddenly lost his taste for revenge. He firmly believed that his grandfather had been a decent honest person who disassociated himself with the horrors perpetrated by the Nazis. He had been an outstanding soldier in the Wehrmacht, awarded for his bravery on the battlefield. There was no doubt that he had nothing to do with the evil deeds perpetrated by officers and soldiers in the SS regime. Yet the doubts continued to influence his mind.