The Butterfly Boy

by Tony Klinger

  I laughed along with the soldiers. “I am a bit hungry now I think about it.”

  The contrast between the dank, cold bunker and the long disused ballroom of the seconded palace could not have been more pronounced. Now I found myself in ancestral glory brought low and mean by the terrible conflict. But the glory of what once had been was still visible to the discerning eye. How I wish I had been here to see what it once was. Now it was bedlam as the Russian’s final big barrage of heavy guns opened up. Four senior German staff officers were gathered around a large map discussing strategy. It felt unreal to me, so recently being tortured during my interrogation to be present amongst such opulence and chaos. I had been ushered into the room by my young guardian angel. He had cleaned himself off since my rescue and had taken the opportunity to render me the same service.

  He was ramrod straight as he led me into the swarming activity of the huge room, so inappropriate for its present purpose. Men and women of every rank were hurriedly gathering up everything transportable and packing the resultant bundles into crates that other soldiers wheeled away on metal trolleys in a never ending parade. The Adjutant led me through the chaos, “Forgive the mess Colonel.” He informed me with the gravity of the situation readily apparent, “Such mess seems to be following me everywhere I go these days.”

  He left me standing at the end of the room as he approached the general staff at the map table. They whispered to and fro. They all had their backs to me and I was beginning to get impatient when they all turned to face me, in fact everyone in the room turned, and all were holding a drink in their hands and beaming at me, full of good humor, General Manstein raised his glass in my direction, “The Fuhrer himself directs me to lead a toast to our honored guest, Colonel Arnulf Hessel, now Iron Cross Second Class, and the father of twin sons, the toast is Arnie Hessel!” everyone raised their glasses and toasted me and I was, for once, unable to utter a sound. I must have been smiling stupidly, having no idea that Kathrin was pregnant with twins, or that the due date had been so imminent. The Adjutant kindly held a whisky glass for me to drink from, and the hot liquid pouring into my empty stomach soon hit home hard with a lovely glow.

  The wonders of the German army and air force High Command was soon evident when they managed to extract me in one piece from the hell that was Stalingrad, returning me to the warmth and security of my own home within a day. Soon I was kneeling and cooing like a big soft teddy bear for my two lovely baby sons who were laying in their beautiful blue double pram, a personal present from Hitler.

  I realize I was prejudiced but the boys were clearly the most handsome and brilliant babies ever born. Kathrin was sitting on a stool next to the pram, rocking it with one hand and eating a ham sandwich with the other. She looked every inch the earth mother as she smiled at her babies and triumphantly to me. I kissed her cheek tenderly. I was busy making silly faces, which the boys were studiously ignoring. “Did you have a nice time when you were in Russia?” she asked me. I could happily have killed her right then, but perhaps her happy lack of knowledge was a blessing in disguise. “I’ve always wanted to visit Russia. Do you think we might go there one day, when all this unpleasantness is over? I thought this over, “I think we might be getting a visit from our Russian friends first.” I said, “That would be nice, new friends.” Kathrin said, unbuttoning her chemise and placing one of our boys at each breast where they began to suckle hungrily. These are two boys who will never suffer malnourishment I thought. “You don’t mean that the Russians are winning do you. Don’t be so silly; Herr Hitler says we’re winning so we must be winning. Where has he ever been wrong before?”

  “Oh, and the long lines outside the shops, the rationing, the shortages, the bombing of our cities, they are all part of his master plan yes?”

  “You’re such a silly boy. Open up all our cupboards and you will see they are as full as ever. It’s just a matter of knowing how to shop.” She smiled again, “and being connected, but that was always the case wasn’t it?”

  “You do realize there is a war on don’t you, and we really are losing?” She shook her head and looked down at the boys hungrily suckling from her, “Don’t you go upsetting our boys you naughty man, wars a man business, if the world was run by us women there wouldn’t be any wars. We’re not so silly.”

  I sighed in exasperation, “What shall we call our sons?” This brought a smile back to her face, “I thought the older one should be called Bertie, after your father, but what do you think of calling him Adolf?” I could barely control myself at either choice; “Adolf, no I don’t think Adolf is entirely appropriate here, can you imagine the little fellow with a silly moustache?” she chortled, “Oh you’re so silly.” She chided me, “I was thinking Eric, Eric is a good strong name.”

  Kathrin nodded her agreement, “Yes, I like Eric, you can’t abbreviate it, and I do so dislike it when people shorten a name, so Eric and Bertie it is.” I smiled because she hadn’t realized that she had already abbreviated the name Bertie. “Will you wheel the boys into the garden for us so that they can see their lovely garden.” “I’ll get the maid to do that, I could do with a little sleep for an hour or so, I’ve been so tired since I had the little darlings. Don’t let them catch a chill out there, keep them wrapped up nice and warm.”

  I nodded and added, “We can just sit in the sun and have a chat, my boys and me.” The maid, Gert, wheeled the pram out through the French windows. Kathrin left the room for her nap and I followed the pram outside to the garden.

  We ambled toward the rose garden, my favorite part of the estate. Gert, the nursemaid, put on the brake of the pram and made sure the boys were well covered up and then left us alone to get to know each other. I couldn’t help but smile as the two boys lay happily in the sunlit pram. It was then that I heard a low buzzing sound. At first it sounded like a very large bee but it was hard to place. I looked for a source but seeing none I almost dozed off even though the almost frosty. But that noise was getting louder and more insistent. Again I heard that sound, now closer and somehow it was becoming alarming. I studied the sky and there it was, one lone aircraft. Initially I wasn’t worried but then I understood it was coming directly for my house, the biggest in the district, perhaps a natural target of chance. I could now see it was a lone RAF Lancaster bomber, what was it doing here, in this sleepy place, coming to visit me in my garden.

  I looked from the airplane down to my two lovely baby boys, Eric and Bertie as they gurgled happily up at their new daddy. The plane was so close now, coming right for us, I looked at it, willing it to go away, but now it was blotting out the sky. “NO!” I screamed forlornly as I saw the bomb door was open and from it a deadly cargo was being unleashed on us. I don’t remember if any other sound came from me as the bomb fell towards us. I found myself racing the bomb toward the house but the bomb won that race as it fell through the roof disintegrating it as if it were some plaything made out of cardboard. The noise and the shattering impact threw me back as my home simply evaporated in a huge ball of fire, crashing and flaming in an incandescent explosion as the world changed for us in that instant, and would never be the same again.

  The next period of time was a blur for me. I was once again in mourning, and this time I didn’t know if I could ever truly recover. How many times does a man have to be struck down by fate before it is acceptable for him to simply give up? I had no one to ask but I tried to keep myself in one piece emotionally because I still had my boys, and they needed me. But every time I looked at their innocent faces I felt tears well up in me, and I wondered how I was going to manage.

  The shock stayed with me for a very long while. Burying what remained of Kathrin was so traumatic I couldn’t remember more than the sketchiest details.

  The next main event I had to force myself to organize was the baptism of my boys. Despite his many drawbacks General Kleist was a rock during this difficult time. He stood at my shoulder and served
as my stand in to hold the boys for the priest to dip their heads in the baptismal font. I almost burst into tears again as first Bertie and then Eric had their heads wetted, “Keep it together son.” He insisted to me, “I don’t understand, why would anyone want to hurt Kathrin, she never hurt anyone in her life.” He held himself straight as he stifled his own anguish in order to help me through, “The Americans just had a spare bomb left after their raid on Frankfurt, it was simply a target of opportunity, nothing personal. Just war, that’s all, just war.”

  I cried, oh how I cried that day and then the general’s words came to mind, and I cried no more, “Be strong Arnie, your sons need you now.” I looked at my boys, and I felt some of Kathrin’s sweet strength fill me, and then the general whispered to me again, “And the Movement needs you strong.” I was so shocked that for a moment I didn’t exhale, my breath trapped in my body. Kleist nodded his head and smiled, my tension evaporated as I saw in his eyes that he was telling the truth. But now that I had come out of my initial shock I was angry, “So, even my family is using me, haven’t I given enough, more than enough?”

  I looked away from the general and saw Marlene standing next to Ratwerller, “Do you want his world for your sons to grow up in?” Kleist asked, and I noticed that Ratwerller was smirking whilst Marlene was unmistakably sympathetic. “We haven’t lost yet,” I pledged to my family, living and dead, “We can still fight.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Frankfurt

  March 22, 1945

  In Frankfurt the Nazi flag still flew defiantly outside the sandbagged building, which housed the city’s Gestapo headquarters. This street, like most of the others in the ancient city centre had been recently and relentlessly bombed by the allied onslaught. I found myself alternately cursing and cheering the waves of American and British bombers. They took it in turns; the Americans were over us in the daylight hours and the British at night. Seemingly never ending waves of heavy aircraft droned over our country dropping their immense loads of destruction down on us.

  I had heard about what happened to my hometown in September of ’44, they had literally wiped Darmstadt off of the face of the map. My town, once inhabited by over one hundred thousand people had been decimated. I had seen pictures of the almost unbelievable catastrophe but it was hard to reconcile those images with the beautiful ancient place in which I had grown up. But now such overwhelming, almost apocalyptic carnage was commonplace in Germany. We were being systematically brought to our knees.

  The stench and mess of the bombs and the resulting horrific bloodbath was everywhere. Rubble was being cleared this morning like every other recent day. This revealed the gristly crop of the freshly dead and maimed. It was hard to believe that the mounds of smashed bricks were once proud buildings that had stood for so long.

  There was an air of lethargy and defeat permeating every fiber of the worn out rescue parties as they sought to find life amongst death.

  A very young blond boy drove me to the headquarters. He didn’t look more than sixteen and he was wearing an ill-fitting brown suit. The once mighty Nazi machine was really reaching down far in the barrel if they were enlisting babies like this one. As we pulled up outside the once grand building the boy opened the door for me politely enough.

  I had become middle aged without noticing I realized as I saw my reflection in the car window when I got out. Perhaps stress had accelerated my ageing. I straightened up, glad that my suit was still the finest cut and style. At least I would maintain those things I could control. I was ushered past the guards into the building and up a huge sweeping staircase to the familiar and magnificent set of double doors.

  We entered and I was whisked past the busy office staff straight to Ratwerller’s office. He stood and personally pulled a chair back for me opposite his own across his vast desk. He sent the boy out and asked how I was. “What do you want?” I asked, he made a tutting sound and shook his head. “No one is all bad,” he admonished me, “the way you seem to think I am. I could be so insulted. But of course you’re right about one thing. I did ask you to visit me for more than social purposes.” “Get on with it Ratwerller.” I growled.

  “Perhaps the problem is that we’re just too familiar with one another, you know the saying, familiarity breeds contempt. All these years we’ve been friends, sharing so much, in every regard, we should be the very best of friends, almost like brothers yes?” I waited, knowing that he would soon get tired of his baiting. “For example here I am seeking your advice, your guidance, your succor.”

  “Nervous that the Russians might get here before the British or the Americans? In that case I would recommend you follow the cyanide option for yourself, save everyone the trouble of a trial.” “Do you think they’ll be particularly bothered by me, a petty bureaucrat, I haven’t be so bad, not when compared to some of my colleagues? My position was often misconstrued and misunderstood. I was just following orders. Like all soldiers must. My heart was always with the Movement. You’ll recall how you and your associates were repeatedly allowed to carry on your noble resistance thanks to my personal intercession.” I smiled, “And the fact that you were creaming off so much money from me. I’m sure that the Russians will be most understanding and sympathetic to all this rubbish. Are you rehearsing this for me? How charming.”

  “No, I think perhaps its time I went on a nice long vacation. I’ve not been allowed the luxury of a holiday in so long. Everyone needs a break, don’t you think?”

  “You didn’t get me here to recommend a hotel did you, if the rat’s are going to scurry away just go into the nearest sewer where you belong.”

  “Arnie, you really don’t like me very much do you? Despite the fact that with my protection you’ve become one of the wealthiest men in this city.”

  “What is it, have you spent all the money you stole from me? I will gladly give you a bit more if it guaranteed you would vanish forever.”

  “Such hate,” he hissed, “Can’t we be friends, now it’s nearly all over?”

  “I prefer being your enemy.” I looked into his eyes and as usual the dark pools gave nothing away. “We need each other, even now Arnie, we need each other. I made it possible for your genius to flourish, to leave questions unasked, questions that would have led, could still do, to a firing squad. You don’t get it do you. I knew that with you I was always at a big disadvantage. You might not have the use of your arms, but you do have talent, look at how you can paint and draw. Me, all I can do is destroy and pull things down. I knew from when we were boys that my only real talent was to recognize the gifts of others, and to capitalize on them. We are inseparable; I think the correct word is conjoined. Two bodies feeding on one heart, and that heart would be yours.”

  “Are you really going to wait here to test your theories in front of a Soviet firing squad, I don’t think so.” Ratwerller smiled mirthlessly, “We still need each other. I have to get out of Germany and you will assist me.”

  “Why should I, our pasts have cancelled each other out.” His smile grew wider, “I’m like a magician, remember that, I always have something up my sleeve.”

  “For this trick, to get me to help you when I am enjoying watching you squirm, I don’t think you have anything left.”

  “OK, let’s try this one on for size. I know where your friend Helmut is, do you?”

  “He’s at our headquarters.” But I could see that my information was out of date, “Not any more.” He told me, “Now he’s at one of those awful camps. You know what they’re like, not very nice, not too many people use the exit door.”

  “You’ve put Helmut into an extermination camp, is he all right. I will go straight to the Fuhrer himself about this. You forget I have the ultimate ace up my sleeve.”

  Ratwerller pulled open the central drawer of his desk and held up a piece of paper and examined it, “No you won’t, and you’ll read this note.” He placed
the paper in front of me on the desk. “So you forced a confession out of him. Hitler knows what such confessions are worth, do you think he’ll believe this shit?”

  “Well it was the best I could do at short notice, and you must admit it’s very plausible. You sound like a very naughty boy, taking advantage of the Fuhrer’s kindnesses. And it doesn’t mention me once, did you notice that?”

  “What will happen to Helmut?”

  “If we co-operate, then nothing will happen to Hynie, nothing at all.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “Well you won’t have long to find out, I think he’ll be having one of the camps special showers in;” he looked at his watch, “one hour, give or take a few minutes. And for sure I can arrange some nasty little car accident for you just to make it a perfect day. Who knows what would happen to those charming little fellows of yours in that situation. I suppose they would be taken into care. It’s as I told you, we really do need each other.”

  “Is it for pleasure that you do this to me? You don’t need me any more. You’ve got more money than you could spend. I’m sure you must have prepared your escape route long ago organized with your pals in the SS.”

  “I’m a businessman remember.” He sighed, “haven’t I proved that in our partnership? You will go on earning for me long after this nasty war is finished. Besides which you’re a much better ally for me than the SS. You have credibility with both Hitler and the Movement. That’s a win win.” I tried not to allow a flicker of emotion show on my face now that Ratwerller had revealed that he knew I was with the resistance, but I had to know what he know, even at the cost of my own security.