by Mick Hare
As Max walked to the exit the waiter approached him and blocked his path. He fixed Max with a cold stare and simply said, “Your behaviour has been noted.” He then moved on to serve drinks at a table by the window.
Sean and Raul had one more drink and then they too left for home. Raul insisted that Sean join him and his family for the evening meal and Sean consented.
Max emerged from his U-Bahn station and set off to walk the remaining mile to his home where his wife and children would be waiting for him. As he turned off the main thoroughfare he turned his collar up against the cold wind that was blowing in off the River Spree and just watched his feet as they took him homeward. The lights were on in the windows of the middle class houses he was passing and he felt warmer inside as he anticipated arriving home.
As he turned the corner of his avenue he glanced absent-mindedly over his shoulder at the sound of footsteps just behind him. He was immediately startled as a hand grabbed him by the shoulder, spun him around and pushed him into the hedgerow at the edge of the pavement. His eyes darted around taking in the scene. There were four of them and their Friekorps armbands confirmed for Max that they were the same four from the bar.
Max expected the worst. The two nearest to him punched him in the chest and then took hold of his arms and held him spread-eagled against the hedge. The third knocked his hat off and took hold of his hair whilst the fourth, the smallest of the group but obviously the leader, stepped up close and pushed his face to within an inch of Max’s.
“Jew-lover.”
Max instinctively tried to shake his head but he was too fiercely constrained. He could smell beer and onions on the man’s breath and he could see, as if magnified, the pores and pock marks on his face. Without warning the man gathered a large goblet of spit in his mouth and spat it into Max’s face. The revulsion almost made him retch. The odour assailed him and the taste and texture of the tiny amount that had entered his mouth caused him to recoil reflexively. The three others holding him snapped him back into an upright position, his face again within an inch of his tormentor’s. The saliva was running down his nose from his eyes onto his lips.
“That’s what we think of Jew-lovers, Herr Doctor. We are very disappointed in you. You have a privileged position in the Fatherland. Why would you want to jeopardise it by befriending a specimen from the most despicable race in existence? Why befriend a despoiler of our greatness as Germans?”
Abruptly, he punctuated this speech by ramming his knee into Max’s crotch. Max’s breath was stolen from him and he struggled to groan in agony.
“We don’t want to hurt you, Herr Doctor. We are just here to provide you with some friendly advice.”
Just then the front door of the house they were outside opened and a man and woman in their late forties came down the drive calling, “What’s going on there? What’s happening?”
For a moment Max’s heart lifted. But he was soon disabused of his optimism as the goon holding his hair let go and moved towards the concerned occupiers.
“I thank you for your concern,” he said in a most calm and reassuring tone. “You are obviously good citizens doing your civic duty.” He reached out and gently took their arms, turning them back towards their front door. “But you need not concern yourselves here. We are dealing with an anti-social individual. We are providing him with some corrective advice. It will not take much longer and then your peace will be restored. Please, return to your home.”
As the goon returned and grabbed at his hair, Max heard the front door of the house click shut and he was once again alone with his assailants.
“I wonder how your concerned neighbours would react to your situation if they knew you were a Jew lover.”
The two who were holding him by the arms now raised them so that he was forced to stoop lower and lower until his head was level with their leader’s knees. His shoulders screamed in agony and he made pathetic cries of pain that made him feel ashamed.
“Now, what I am wondering is if we have had any impact upon your love of Jews. Perhaps you would like to tell us what you think of Jews now.”
To help Max in his thinking processes, the Friekorps hero swung his boot into Max’s face. Max managed to turn it slightly at the last moment ensuring that the steel toecap shattered his cheekbone, but this probably saved the sight in his left eye.
“Well?” encouraged the leader.
Max spat out blood and saliva, and to his great shame cried out, “I hate all Jews. They are sub-human. They are vermin. You are attacking the wrong man here. Today, in my work I sterilised three Jews and seven other undesirables. I am a true patriot. I revere the Aryan. I hate the stinking Jew.”
Simultaneously and without warning the goons released him. Max toppled to the ground and lay clutching his face.
“We’re so glad to find that we now concur,” said the leader. “We will say goodnight and hope that from now on you practice what you profess to believe.”
With that they took turns to kick him in the chest and stomach and then they turned and walked away.
As the sound of their footsteps faded into nothingness Max was overwhelmed with first relief and then disgust. He began to cry uncontrollably and as he choked on his tears he vomited bile and blood. As he cried he was assailed by treacherous thoughts. He thought of the Germany he loved; the Germany of his childhood, his parents, his wife and children. He thought of the Germany he hated; the Germany of division and violence, the Germany that had left him behind in its move towards a brutal greatness that he was not fit for. He thought of the self he despised for his weakness and treachery; but he thought too of the weakness that had allowed him to be seduced into friendship with a Jew. He blamed Raul for the beating he had received. And then he hated himself again for thinking that thought.
In the weeks that followed Max’s return to work after the insertion of a plate in his cheek, Raul was in no doubt as to why Max no longer spoke to him. If he could avoid it he was never in the same area of the hospital as Raul and he always avoided eye contact if caught unawares. Raul felt that Max blamed him for the assault he had suffered. In truth Raul did feel guilt for the treatment Max had been subjected to. Every time he saw Max’s face, the feeling came over him. Max’s eyes never sparkled nowadays as they had once. The insertion of the steel plate which had been used to reconstruct his face had left him with an exaggerated asymmetry that unmistakably robbed him of his good looks. The surgery had also turned down one corner of his mouth, leaving him with a permanent expression of negativity.
Although, nominally still in post, Raul was now only permitted to treat Jewish patients and these were becoming ever scarcer. In truth, Raul was correct in all of these suppositions, but there was one overriding factor he could not be aware of. This factor rendered Max incapable of associating further with him. He was burdened with an unbearable shame for the things he had said that night. His crushed psyche had the notion that Raul had heard his cowardly pronouncements. Indeed, perhaps the world had heard him. Ironically, his face and his eyes now accurately reflected his inner self.
Events in the world had moved on significantly during his convalescence. Issues that had, a few short months ago, been a matter of bigotry and prejudice, were now enacted in legislation. The Friekorps, the SA and the SS were off the leash and everyone was walking in fear. A whole nation was quickly learning to adopt attitudes and behaviours it had once looked at askance from a respectable distance. Each and every one had to prove his or her loyalty from scratch.
*******
“Germans defend yourselves! Do not buy from Jews!”
This was how April 1 had been organised – The National Boycott of Jewish shops and businesses. Max had lain in his sick bed and listened to his wife Johanna describing the events of the day. One of her old Jewish school-friends, whose father owned a grocery shop, had been visited by Nazi activists. Any members of the public attempting to buy from the shop had been driven away. Those who objected had been beaten. What had been s
o upsetting was that one of the activists was a neighbour who had always bought his groceries at their shop.
“What’s happening, Max? Julia was beside herself. I’ve never seen her so upset. She said she had never seen her father so humiliated. You know what he’s like Max. He is always bursting with confidence and so optimistic.”
Max felt his shame and depression expanding as he recalled his own humiliation at the hands of the members of the Friekorps who had attacked him.
“I don’t know, Johanna. The whole situation is just too depressing.”
Johanna looked down at him and her heart was filled with a momentary dread; as if the Max she had married had vacated this man in front of her. She sat on the edge of his bed and leaned her face to kiss him.
“Listen to us,” she said mockingly. “Getting all worked up about the actions of a few thugs. Don’t you think Hitler had to agree to something as gross as this to satisfy the lunatic fringe that has helped him win power? Now that they cannot say he reneged on his anti-Semitism he will be able to sideline them and get Germany back on track. I’m sure it was just a morsel to them to prove his credentials.”
“I hope you’re right, Johanna.”
But Johanna’s concern was not assuaged by the indecision in Max’s voice and the distant look in his eye.
Sean’s April Fools’ Day had been eventful too. As he had walked to the U-Bahn he had called as usual for his newspaper and a packet of mints at his local shop. This morning however, as he had stepped into the doorway, his path was barred by two men in full Nazi regalia.
“Not today mein Herr,” one of them said politely. The other touched his shoulder and directed his gaze to the poster that had been stuck onto the glass in the doorframe.
“Germans defend yourselves! Do not buy from Jews!”
Sean read the poster and then looked back at the two Nazis. The one who had spoken to him was about nineteen years old and had traces of acne along his chin and forehead. He had mouse brown hair, which he wore with the limp fringe of his beloved Fuhrer. He was shorter than Sean but was in good physical condition. The other was a good four inches taller than Sean and he was a man of big proportions, weighing about two hundred and forty pounds.
Having taken them in, Sean slowly and deliberately said, “Fuck off!”
As he spoke he barged between them, knocking them both off balance as he entered the shop.
“Good morning, Gunther,” he said to the man behind the counter.
Gunther looked extremely worried.
“Good morning, Sean,” he replied. “Are you sure you want to buy your paper and sweets here today? It could get you into trouble.”
“What, with those two specimens of Aryan superiority? The day people like that tell me where I can and cannot spend my money, is the day I give up the ghost. My paper and sweets please, Gunther.”
Gunther’s gratitude at this display of kindness and support was painful for Sean to observe. What was going on in the world to reduce such men of experience to these childlike levels of gratitude?
“Thank you so much, Sean, thank you. You must accept them with my compliments today.”
“I will not,” retorted Sean. “I’ll pay for them the same as I do every day. Otherwise those bastards out there will have won.”
“Well, all right,” conceded Gunther. “But at least you can let me throw in an extra bag of mints.”
Sean laughed and Gunther made an attempt to laugh along with him.
“I never could say no to a bag of mints. Listen, are you going to be all right today? What will you do if those bastards turn nasty?”
“Don’t worry about me,” said Gunther. “I am an old soldier. If they come in here I’ll show them my Iron Cross. That will put the young thugs in their place.”
“Well just take care and don’t let them get to you. Remember, you’ve done nothing wrong.”
As Sean stepped out of the shop the Nazis were not in the doorway barring entry. They were at the far side of the pavement looking back into the doorway. He stood opposite them. The younger of the two raised his finger and shook it at Sean.
“You have made a grave mistake today Herr Jew-lover. We will not forget you. You will have to answer to the party one day.”
Sean felt his anger rising but made a powerful effort to control it.
“Is that so?” he said, advancing on them. “Well listen to me spotty. You’ve made a big mistake too.” As he advanced they retreated half a step, informing him that they were not prepared to back up their arguments with force. “I won’t forget you. And I know where you live,” he added, inventing the fiction as he spoke. “Be certain my young friend, if anything happens to the man inside that shop today, I will hold you personally responsible.”
He stared at them, inviting their response, but they had nothing more to say. With a disdainful look he turned on his heel and continued on his way to work.
By mid-day Sean had completed his shift for he was due to commence a week of night duties from the following evening onwards. As he left the hospital he decided to go round to see Raul and Grete. The nature of the day had placed a dead hand over his feelings and he needed to reassure himself that everything was fine with them.
On reaching their apartment he was met at the door by Lisa.
“Hello, Lisa,” he said. “What are you doing here? I thought you’d be at school.” You’re not ill are you?”
“No I am not ill,” replied Lisa. “We were at school but we were sent home.”
Just then Grete emerged from within the apartment and welcomed Sean.
“Come in Sean. I am so pleased to see you. Lisa, let Sean come through. You go back to your room and continue your studies.”
“Yes Mama. But can David and I come through and talk to Uncle Sean before he goes?”
“We’ll see. Come through Sean.”
Through all of this interchange, Sean could see that Grete had been crying. He had never seen her face so reddened by tears before. When they were alone in the sitting room he asked, “What on earth is the matter?”
Grete looked at him as if dreading to answer in case she was overcome with sobbing. And then as her mind played over the morning’s events she burst into tears. Sean instinctively went to her and put his arms around her, attempting to soothe her. Eventually she regained control and began to recount her morning’s experiences.
That morning Raul had not been going into the clinic. As Sean knew, Fuchs was not including him in the rosters unless he was forced to by an unexpected level of cases coming through the door. So the day had begun well. The children got up and the family breakfasted together. Then, because he was free, Raul volunteered to walk the children to school. They left the apartment together at about 8.15. By 9.15 Raul had returned and after about twenty minutes he had decided to go out for a walk in the Tiergarten. He hoped to bump into some old acquaintances, share experiences and talk politics.
About five minutes after he had left, Grete was surprised to hear the key turn in the door to the apartment. When she walked into the hall she saw David and Lisa coming in, she was puzzled but not worried because, although she could not understand why, at least the children were here.
“Lisa,” she asked. “What are you doing here? Why are you not at school?”
Lisa simply replied, “We’ve been sent home.”
“Well, what for? Who sent you home?”
“Our teachers.”
“Well what for?” Grete repeated. “Have you done something wrong?”
“I don’t think so,” replied Lisa.
“Well then, tell me,” asked Grete again, trying not to sound impatient.