“But I didn’t kill Mueller,” Neuer pleaded. “I swear, I didn’t kill him.”
Neumann pushed the escort back. “That’s enough, Seidenberg. Vigilante justice is what got us into this problem in the first place. I won’t have it anymore. You agreed that you would show honour and respect.”
“Honour and respect to those who deserve it. Not to this piece of shit. I’m sorry, Sergeant. I was glad to help in the beginning, but this is the end. That mob is going to knock you down to get at him. And they aren’t going to be nice about it. The boys are out for blood.”
Neumann paused for a moment and then turned to look at all the men in the room. Neuer wasn’t the only one who was looking panicked; most of the other soldiers were looking the same way.
“What are we going to do, Sergeant?” Corporal Knaup asked. “We’ll follow you wherever you tell us, but we’d rather not take on a suicide mission this late in the game.”
“Don’t worry, Knaup, I don’t go on suicide missions,” Neumann said clapping Knaup on the shoulder. “And I don’t send any of my men on them either, am I right, Aachen?”
Knaup shrugged. “We’re going to have to figure something out soon because those boys aren’t going to be content to stay out there for long. After awhile, a bunch of them will burst in and I doubt we’ll be able to hold them back.”
Neumann then turned to Neuer. The submariner’s eyes were wide with fear. Beads of sweat started to form on his forehead. “Well, looks like we’re stuck here. So what do you say, Neuer? Do you want to confess now or should I just leave you to the mob?”
“You can’t leave me, Sergeant. You wouldn’t. You’re an honourable man. You wouldn’t leave me to a pack of hounds like that, would you?”
Neumann shrugged. “Much as I hate vigilante justice, if I had to choose between my life, the lives of my men here, and yours, the choice is pretty easy. I have honour, but only to a point.”
“But I didn’t kill Mueller. I had nothing to do with that,” Neuer said, the fear rising in his voice. “You have to believe me, Sergeant. I had nothing to do with the murder of the captain, nothing at all.”
“Sorry, Neuer, but I hear that all the time. The fact is that the evidence is incontrovertible. You were involved in the beating and attempted hanging of Corporal Aachen. All we have to do is gather more evidence to tie you to the death of Captain Mueller.”
“I had no reason to kill Captain Mueller. No reason at all.”
“But he was a communist, your commander said so.”
“I don’t give a shit about anybody’s politics, Sergeant. That was all Captain Koenig’s beef. I’m just like you—a soldier who follows orders even if my commander is an idiot.”
“Your commander sank almost a half million tonnes of enemy ships.”
“And you think he did that all by himself? There’s more than thirty men on the average U-boat and you need everyone working together in order to sink an enemy ship. But do they get credit? No. Only the captain gets that credit. Even if one of those ships was sunk while he was sleeping soundly and I was on watch.”
“Your commander deserves much more respect than that, Lieutenant Neuer. He served the Fatherland well.”
“Koenig is stuck in the past. He is still reliving the happy time when U-boats ruled the Atlantic. And he still believes that it will come back, that one day we will be rescued by German forces and welcomed back as heroes and continue the fight for the Fatherland, ruling the waves with our wolf packs and torpedoes. But you and I both know that will never happen, don’t we, Sergeant? There will never be a rescue. The only way we’ll go home is when this damn war ends and based on what’s happening in Europe now, there won’t be many victory parades in our hometowns.”
“Your commander has punished others for less traitorous words.”
“Again, Sergeant, that was a long time ago. You forget that most of us submariners have been prisoners for several years and that is a long time to be sitting here doing nothing, twiddling our thumbs. In the early years, we still had spirit. Many of us still thought the Fatherland was the greatest country in the world, that we had the strongest forces and would, over time, overcome all our enemies. But as more and more prisoners like yourself kept arriving and we kept hearing stories of debacles and bad command decisions, we started to face reality. At least some of us did. I realized that even though there was no way I could leave the submariner group without facing some consequences, I had to plan for my future after the war. Because life is going to be very shitty when we get back home. You probably know that better than me, Neumann. I was only a kid after the First World War and from my view, things were pretty bleak during those times. And I’m betting it was worse for veterans who came back.”
Neuer paused to see if there was a reaction. Neumann said nothing.
“Thought so. Anyway, when I started to think about my future, I found some people who were willing to help. You see, I don’t want to go back to Germany after all this empty-handed.”
“You sound like Heidfield. He made the same offer to me,” Aachen said. “Is he part of those people you found?”
Neuer was briefly surprised at the mention of Heidfield’s name. But then he shrugged. “So what if he is. At least he’s looking to the future, unlike the rest of you.”
“But how does the murder of Captain Mueller fit into your future plans? He was harmless.”
“I didn’t kill Captain Mueller. No one connected to Heidfield killed Mueller. And I know Koenig is trying to get control of the camp back somehow or at least get a more patriotic group in charge, especially because of the invasion—he believes there is too much disloyalty in the camp—but he is still pretty far away from that. There’s no way he’d take the chance of sticking his neck out and killing someone like Mueller. He doesn’t have the power yet, and I don’t think he’s going to get it.”
“I don’t buy it. You must have played a role in Mueller’s death considering what you did to Aachen.”
“The attack on Aachen was not connected to Mueller, at least not directly. In fact I didn’t even wish to kill Aachen. Just to hurt him. But then it got out of hand.”
“Why Aachen, then?” asked Neumann. “Why were you trying to scare him away from that investigation, if you weren’t involved with Mueller’s death.”
“Attacking Aachen had nothing to do with Mueller. It was all because of the match, of course. The plan was to injure the corporal so he would withdraw from the match, or at least make him a weaker opponent.”
“So you admit to being involved in Aachen’s beating.”
Neuer grimaced. “Only slightly. Personally, I didn’t think it was necessary. I know I can beat him. He’s strong and small, but I’m faster and have a longer reach. His only chance of winning was to drag out the match.”
“If you think you could beat him fairly, why was he beaten?”
Neuer shrugged. “I had the impression that there were other considerations involved. Like I said, I didn’t think Aachen had to be worked over so I could beat him in the match, but in the end I didn’t make that decision. I was persuaded that it would be better for the future if we did this.”
Neuer turned in his chair to face Aachen. “I’m truly sorry, Klaus. If it means anything, I only hit you once and even then I pulled my punch.”
Aachen glared at Neuer and then turned away angrily.
Just then a large rock crashed through a window on the other side of the room. It was followed by another one, and then a third. The voices of the mob outside were becoming angrier and angrier.
Neuer shrieked and ducked under the table. One of the soldiers pulled him to another table. The rest of the soldiers, including Aachen and Neumann, gathered in the centre of the room, the best place to be in case of a storm.
Aachen looked about as a few more rocks came flying in and someone started banging on the door. “We’re
going to have to do something, Sergeant,” he said. “Very soon or we’re going to be in big trouble.”
“Why not just give them Neuer? He’s the one they want,” Knaup suggested without any malice in his voice. “They’ll probably just beat him up a bit.”
“This crowd is out for blood. They’ll probably kill Neuer. I don’t think we’ll come away without a few scars of our own, if we don’t do something soon,” Neumann said.
“You can’t be suggesting we give him up?” Aachen asked as another rock came flying in, bouncing off the table under which Neuer was hiding and nearly hitting Neumann. He quickly stepped aside to avoid it.
“Why are you defending him?” Knaup asked. “I’d think you’d be keen on getting revenge. This is one way, don’t you think?”
“No, it’s not. If I’m going to get revenge on Neuer, I’ll do it myself. I’m not going to give him to a crazy mob so they can tear him apart.”
Neumann snapped his fingers as the shouting became louder and another window was broken. One prisoner tried to climb through the window but cut himself on the glass. He screamed and backed away.
“That’s it. Brilliant idea, Aachen,” Neumann said. “If it’s a fight they want, it’s a fight they’ll get.”
“Are you insane, Sergeant? If we fight this mob they’ll kill us.”
“We’re not going to fight—Aachen is.”
“But he’s only one man. He can’t tame this whole crowd.”
“Don’t be an idiot, Knaup,” Neumann snapped. “Aachen’s not going to fight the mob, he’s going to fight Neuer.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Knaup shouted.
Neumann ignored Knaup and looked at Aachen who had turned to face him. Slowly, they smiled at each other. “So what do you say, Klaus?” Neumann asked.
Aachen nodded.
“You sure? He’s a tough sonofabitch, wasn’t going to be an easy fight in the first place. But now you’re pretty beat up. Think you can beat him?”
Aachen’s smile became brighter. “Always,” he said. “Never a doubt.”
28.
Aachen and Neuer stood in the middlfire of a dusty field normally used for football, just to the east of Recreation Hall 2, about five metres away from the eastern perimeter fence.
Neumann had chosen the site himself after convincing the mob outside the classroom to let the much-anticipated match between Neuer and Aachen occur a couple of days earlier than expected. To have it outside added even more to the drama. The site was no chance selection, either; it was one of the football pitches which had rafts of bleachers along the west and north side, so while a good number of prisoners did crowd around the wrestling area, many of them decided to use the bleachers so they could have a better view over the top of the heads of those on the ground. The set-up also allowed for the east side to be open, so the Canadian guards who were interested in the match could watch from the fence or up in the nearby towers. Neumann made a point of showing all those guards to Neuer.
“Take a good look at all those Canadians over there, Lieutenant,” he whispered. “They are all watching the match, many of them with their Enfields loaded and ready to shoot.”
“Yes, but they are always there with their guns. What difference would they make?”
“They make a lot of difference. I wish you well in your match, but you and I both know that when it ends, no matter who wins, this mob is going to come after you. I want you to understand that.”
“I do. So why are we doing this, if it will end that way?”
“To help you escape, of course. When the match ends, win or lose, I want you to run as fast as you can, jump the fence, and go into No Man’s Land. Don’t stop until you get to the tall fence. And don’t look back either. Keep looking at the Canadians.”
“But they’ll shoot me as soon as I jump over.”
“No, they won’t. Not if you have your hands in the air and you are yelling for help. Remember to yell for help, something like ‘Save me, they will kill me. Save me.’ And shout it like that in English. You can speak some English, can’t you?”
“Of course.”
“Good. The Canadians will help you and put you in protective custody.”
“But that’s for traitors and informants.”
“You may be neither, but at the very least you’ll be alive. And when this war ends, no one will care anymore who’s a traitor or not. We’ll all just go home.”
“But why are we doing it this way, Sergeant,” Neuer asked. “What’s stopping me from running away to the Canadians now?”
“Your honour, of course,” Neumann said, slapping the submariner on the back. “Everyone’s been looking forward to this match for a long time, especially you and Corporal Aachen. Don’t you want to prove who’s the better wrestler before you run over to the Canadians?”
Neuer smiled. It was the first time Neumann had ever seen him smile. “Why are you doing this, Sergeant?”
“Because I want to see the match as well.”
“No. Not that. Why are you helping me?”
“To save your life, of course. Although before the match begins, I hope you will tell me who put you up to attacking Corporal Aachen.”
Neuer looked about nervously and then leaned in close. When he whispered the name, Neumann nodded. “Not that much of surprise,” he said.
29.
The match didn’t last long. Neuer started with some passion, but that quickly faded as the crowd moved in for a better look. He made a few quick shots against Aachen, trying to use his speed and height for advantage, but they were only half-hearted attempts. His eyes were unfocused, darting back and forth between Aachen and the mob that surrounded him, the mob that stared angrily at him, accusing him of killing Mueller and calling out for his execution.
Aachen tried to return Neuer’s focus to the match, slapping the submariner across the head a couple of times, whispering words of encouragement as well as jibes to keep him interested. But even though he did make some attempts to wrestle, everything Neuer attempted was half-hearted and ineffectual.
This lack of effort only further incensed the crowd which began to inch even closer, jeering at the two men for turning a highly anticipated event into an anticlimactic one.
While the two of them were seemingly working to lock in, Aachen dropped to his knees, raising a small cloud of dust off the hard prairie ground. Neuer lost his balance, arms flailing at nothing, and fell forward against Aachen’s shoulder. The corporal then tucked his head to get under the submariner’s arms and wrapped his arms around Neuer, locking his hands together. He screamed with effort and pushed up.
Sensing what was happening, Neuer regained his balance, also wrapping his arms around Aachen and locking his hands. He pushed down with his weight, stretching his legs to keep his feet from leaving the ground.
But Aachen kept pushing up. Neuer tried to spin to get away from the lift and to throw Aachen off balance. It was too late. The corporal was in complete control; he simply moved with his larger opponent. They struggled for a couple of seconds and then Aachen screamed again. In one fluid movement, he arched his back, pushed up from his knees, and lifted the submariner off the ground, spinning into a half turn to throw Neuer to the ground.
The submariner fell first on his shoulder and then onto his back. An instant later, he pushed himself half up, but Aachen was on top of him. He released his grip around Neuer’s waist, bringing his arms up to wrap around the man’s neck, also locking an arm in a submission hold. He squeezed, his arm muscles bulging.
Neuer struggled, wriggling to break free, even slapping against the bruises on Aachen’s body, the reminders of his beating, but Aachen refused to let go, increasing the pressure of the hold. Neuer struggled only for a moment before relenting. He paused, tapped Aachen twice on the shoulder, and then went completely slack, the signal that he had given up
.
A second later, Aachen released the submariner who fell to the dust gasping for breath. The corporal also gasped and sat back on the ground with his arms raised in victory, but only for a second, because he was unable to hold them up any longer.
Since the majority of the crowd was made up of Wehrmacht prisoners, the crowd cheered the win with approval. That joy, however quickly disappeared and crowd turned ugly. “Come on!” someone shouted. “Why did you let him go? You should have killed him!”
“Yeah, grab him again and choke him to death!”
There were more shouts for death and soon a chant started. “Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!”
Aachen gave Neuer a quick nudge to get him off the ground. But Neuer didn’t move. He was looking around in fear, freezing at the sound of the crowd calling for his death, unable to get up, unable to catch his breath, unable to move. The Canadians also looked about in fear, bringing their rifles up, but unsure of what was going on and how they could stop it.
Aachen pushed himself up and moved to help Neuer get to his feet. “Get up, you fool, and run,” he hissed at him, yanking on the man’s arm and pulling him to his feet. Neuer was unsteady and almost fell back down again, but Aachen caught him and started pushing him towards the fence. “Run! Run! They’ll kill you if you don’t!”
Neuer began to run towards the fence but stumbled, landing on his hands and knees in the dust. He tried to get up again, but his arms were too weak and the dust was too loose for him to get his footing.
“He’s trying for the fence!” someone shouted.
“Get him!”
“Kill him!”
Neumann tried to rush forward to help Neuer get up, but the crowd surged forward, knocking him back. Aachen again grabbed Neuer by the arms and pulled him up. He pushed him towards the fence and the submariner half-ran, half-stumbled forward. He frantically waved his arms in the air, shouting at the Canadians. “Help me, help me, they’re trying to kill me!”
But he shouted in German and the guards pointed their rifles at the lieutenant as he fell over the three foot barbed wire fence. He flipped over and the back of his pants got caught, leaving him hanging.
The Traitors of Camp 133 Page 21