Men of Snow

by John R Burns

  ‘I will,’ Franz said stiffly.

  ‘Of course you will.’

  ‘And you’re right. I don’t want to talk about it.’

  ‘So long as you don’t think I’m holding something over you. That’s not what I want at all. You see this has been on my mind because I wasn’t sure whether they would accept you back or whether you’d have to start with the next recruits. I knew you’d been doing really well before....before the accident. I knew you had high marks in everything and it’s obvious that you’re officer material. That’s not me trying to sound smart or anything, I just know you have what is necessary to become a good officer.’

  ‘I’d rather leave it.’

  At that Steiner turned round, ‘There’s going to be a war.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘It seems our generals had no faith in our Fuhrer to begin with, but now that’s all changed. That’s why the next weeks are so important, for all of us.’

  ‘You have no idea what I’m thinking. You have no idea at all.’

  Steiner smiled, ‘I’m not sure that’s significant. I suppose nobody knows that about anybody. It’s the impression. That’s what counts.’

  ‘Not to me.’

  ‘But we’re not talking about that Franz.’

  ‘What are we talking about?’

  ‘Trust Franz, I’m talking about trust.’

  ‘It doesn’t exist.’

  ‘But what about the oath to our Fuhrer?’

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘Is not that a pledge of trust?’

  ‘It’s what I have to do to become an officer, a soldier.’

  ‘And that’s all?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘A means to an end.’

  ‘That’s all we are. For the greater good.’

  ‘And I suppose you’ve read so much you know what that entails?’

  Franz brushed past him to go to the door.

  ‘What happened won’t go any further. That’s all I wanted to say.’

  ‘And I heard you.’

  ‘Well that’s alright then,’ Steiner said in a strained attempt at a lighter tone as Franz went out into the corridor.

  He stopped for a moment trying to focus his anger into thought. The trick was to concentrate on the first thing that came into his mind. But instead of that he looked down the corridor at the gathering of recruits.

  ‘What’s happening?’ he asked nobody in particular when he reached the group.

  ‘Some bum fucker,’ was an answer.

  Suddenly a second year was standing in his way wanting to know his name.

  ‘Well Brucker or Fucker or whatever, have a look what happens to recruits who can’t tell the difference from front and back.’

  He was shoved through the group into the dormitory.

  In a moment there was the smell of shit and his recognition of Strauss, Winkler and Hoffenbach.

  Schultz was on the floor tied to the end of a bed. It was Strauss who was spooning the shit across Schultz’s face as Hoffenbach pulled his head back.

  ‘This is Winkler’s shit, just for you, you a disgrace to the school, to the army, to our country, you bum fucker. Have some more you cock poker, open you cock sucking mouth and have a taste of cook’s stew special,’ Strauss continued as Hoffenbach struggled to hold Schultz’s mouth open.

  It was Winkler who brought out the knife.

  ‘Because if you don’t open your sperm smeared lips of yours our friend here is not only going to shit, he’s going to cut you,’ Strauss threatened.

  Tears mixed in with the shit across Schultz’s cheeks.

  ‘I....I...haven’t......I haven’t......done anything.’

  ‘Who says you haven’t?’

  ‘Nobody....nobody.’

  ‘Well there you are then. Open your fucking mouth, open it!’

  As Schultz tried to scream Hoffenbach grabbed his nose and pulled at his bottom lip to let Strauss poke in the spoon of shit.

  The stench was strong as Franz stood there with the rest.

  ‘First one laddie, now open again. Open!’

  ‘Please....please....’Schultz muttered as a mouthful dribbled down his chest.

  At that Winkler ripped open his shirt and cut him at the base of his neck, a short, deep cut.

  ‘We’re going to make your life here such a fucking misery you’ll be begging to be discharged.’

  This time Schultz’s shirt was torn at the shoulder and he was cut again.

  As he tried to speak Strauss poked in more shit, the spoon grating against Schultz’s teeth as he pulled it out.

  ‘That’s better, much better. So you’ll know, you’ll know won’t you?’

  ‘Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.’

  More shit was pasted over his cheeks, forehead and chin, just leaving his eyes blinking in terror as another spoonful was pushed in.

  ‘Now swallow it.’

  Schultz stared up at Strauss before he exaggeratedly swallowed a mouthful.

  The rest of them watched in silence.

  Finally Strauss, Winkler and Hoffenbach were finished, everybody stepping aside to let them pass.

  -----------------------------------------------------------------

  That night Franz listened to Schultz crying himself to sleep. He had been cleaned up and put to bed. It was Steiner who had made the story up about Schultz’s being too ill to attend evening assembly.

  As he lay there Franz started to remember how when a child he often would sit up on the first steep hill behind his village and watch what was happening in the narrow cobbled streets. It was his small domain. He knew everybody who lived there. He felt the mountains stacked up behind him like some everlasting presence.

  It was Frumm the next week who told them about Schultz’s disappearance.

  ‘The rumour is that poor Schultz got a beating from Strauss and Hoffenbach last night and nobody has seen him since.’

  Franz made no response. It was Steiner who spoke.

  ‘They had no evidence.’

  ‘Second years don’t need evidence.’

  ‘If that’s the case why aren’t we implicated?’

  Frumm pulled a doubtful expression, ‘Maybe we are.’

  ‘They think they can do anything.’

  ‘They can do anything.’

  That evening Steiner came across Franz in the library.

  ‘So what do you think?’ was his first question as he sat opposite.

  Franz pretended to read as he said, ‘About what?’

  ‘Schultz of course.’

  ‘I don’t think anything.’

  ‘And I don’t believe you.’

  ‘Suit yourself,’ Franz muttered.

  Steiner waited. There were a few other recruits in the library at tables that had electric lights at each end.

  ‘We should have a proper conversation sometime,’ he tried.

  With an exaggerated sigh Franz put his book down.

  ‘And talk about what?’

  ‘Everything, nothing. It’s not planned.’

  ‘It would be.’

  ‘The next time we get a pass.’

  ‘And do what?’

  ‘There isn’t much choice.’

  ‘So we go into town and go to the usual beer halls and ...............’

  ‘Have a conversation,’ Steiner put in.

  ‘Schultz was an obvious victim. He was never going to manage. He knew that.’

  ‘And that’s it?’

  ‘He would never have made it.’

  Steiner forced a smile and sat back in his chair staring at him.

  ‘Failures are easily exposed in a place like this. It doesn’t take the hierarchy to find them out. Strauss and his mob will do it for them. They can smell weakness a mile away. I suppose that’s being a good officer. You have to know your men. You have to weed out those who might put the others in danger. That’s part of the job, part of the necessary perception.’

  ‘But what if they make a mistake?’
r />   ‘Don’t be stupid. What happened to Schultz was not a mistake.’

  ‘You sound very sure.’

  Franz glanced back at him, ‘You have to be.’

  ‘So what about the next time we get a pass?’

  ‘We get a pass. That’s all.’

  ‘You know what I mean,’ Steiner said.

  ‘And now you sound very sure.’

  ‘That’s the problem because I’m not.’

  ‘So leave it.’

  ‘I don’t think that’s what you want.’

  ‘And how the hell would you know what I want?’

  At that Steiner pushed his chair back, the light shining on his face.

  ‘Maybe it’s a necessary perception,’ he said before tapping his heels together and giving a cursory Heil Hitler salute.

  Franz returned to his book trying to concentrate.

  CHAPTER 3

  When the next manoeuvres took place Franz was ready. He had spent weeks preparing himself. Over and over he pictured what was going to happen and how he was going to respond. He was creating a deep line of cognition to follow through, his own mind programmed to control any unwanted physical reactions. All that happened as the artillery started and planes flew low was that his scars began to feel hotter. The longer the manoeuvres lasted the hotter they became, throbbing across his cheek and down his neck. But everything else had gone as planned. There had been no other reactions. He had advanced with the rest of them, thrown himself to the ground, got up, advanced again with live ammunition clattering over his head and explosions sounding close by. His mind had tightened his resolve until nothing else was possible. He had achieved control. Consciousness had become the tool.

  ‘Have you ever met a Jew? Do they have such things in mountain villages in Bavaria?’ Meissner, who had been given the spare bed in their room, started one night.

  Frumm was laid out dozing. Steiner was reading and Franz was preparing his kit for the next day.

  ‘In such refined air you’d smell them miles away.’

  ‘No,’ Franz finally answered, ‘there weren’t any.’

  ‘Lucky you, I’ve seen them, seen too many, heard them, smelt them. They’re disgusting. They should have been thrown out of Germany a long time ago. A Yid. A Kike. Whatever you call them, they’re still vermin.’

  --------------------------------------------------------------

  ‘So you agreed,’ was the first thing Steiner called one evening over the throng of noise in the beer hall to Franz who was struggling his way through the crowd.

  His expression shifted when he noticed Frumm, Meissner and another recruit called Hammling, who was in a dormitory on their corridor, following behind.

  ‘It’s definitely going to be war,’ was Meissner’s opinion when they had all managed to get chairs and sit at the end of one of the long beer tables.

  ‘Here’s to war,’ Frumm said ironically before lifting his glass of beer.

  Somebody was playing a piano through the noise of voices, shouts and laughter.

  ‘Do you know, there are three versions of killing, whatever our officers might say?

  Meissner’s voice was already drawled and slow.

  ‘Do we have to?’ Steiner complained.

  ‘No, listen,’ Franz said back.

  Meissner looked from one to the other.

  ‘The first is the distance kill, the sniper shot, that sort of thing. It’s how you feel at the point of squeezing the trigger that interests me.’

  ‘And how the hell would you know?’ Frumm asked.

  ‘He knows,’ Hammling muttered, his round, red face covered in sweat.

  ‘How?’

  ‘Because....because he’s in the army.’

  ‘Jesus Christ!’ Frumm laughed.

  ‘It’s automatic,’ Meissner continued, ‘It’s just a picture in your brain. There’s something there and then it’s down. It isn’t there anymore. There’s nothing to control except keeping your arm steady and your aim focused, but the second.’

  ‘The second,’ Hammling repeated before belching across the table.

  Franz finished his beer as a waiter brought more full glasses.

  Steiner was looking emptily across the smoke filled hall.

  ‘The second is the close combat kill, the rush of blood, the pumped up action kill. It’s when it’s either you or him. No time to think or feel anything. You just go for it, shoot, bayonet them, knife them, and chew their heads off if that’s a last resort. It’s instinctive, primitive. It’s the rush of blood for more blood, to wallow in it, to smash and butcher and all the rest. There is no choice. It’s such close action you just react. Fear becomes anger becomes the lust to kill.’

  ‘Yes,’ Hammling exclaimed.

  ‘No,’ Frumm sighed, ‘But go on, what about the third?’

  ‘That’s the execution,’ Franz said.

  Meissner looked at him.

  ‘That’s when there will be time,’ he added.

  ‘Eh, this is my piece,’ Meissner complained.

  Franz pulled a doubtful expression, ‘Sorry. I thought you might need a bit of help.’

  ‘Well I don’t.’

  ‘He doesn’t,’ added Hammling.

  ‘So please, carry on. You were saying...’

  ‘The third is the firing squad, is the prisoner who you can’t take with you, is the rat Jew getting in your way, something like that.’

  ‘So go on,’ Franz interrupted, ‘Tell us Meissner how you would feel.’

  ‘I would....’

  ‘You would do your duty,’ Franz continued, ‘that’s all there is to it. There’s no emotion. It’s just something that has to be done.’

  ‘So say you.’

  ‘What else is there?’

  ‘Maybe a momentary consideration,’ Steiner put in.

  Franz glanced at him, ‘I don’t think so. If it’s a situation where you are in command then you just do whatever is necessary.’

  ‘Just like that.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said to Steiner, ‘Just like that.’

  ‘So what about the Russians?’ was Frumm’s loud question, ‘The Ruskies.’

  ‘Ribbentrop is an arse. He’s probably promised them half of Europe,’ said Meissner as he unbuttoned the collar of his uniform, ‘What a heat in this place.’

  ‘It’s hot,’ Hammling muttered.

  ‘Does he have to agree with everything you say?’ Steiner asked.

  Meissner started laughing and raised his glass, ‘He’s a follower. He knows who knows what there is to know. Cheers to all those in the know.’

  ‘I know,’ Hammling added.

  ‘Of course you do!’ Meissner shouted as he slapped him on the back.

  ‘So it’s the Poles first.’

  ‘It will be,’ Steiner said back to Frumm who had lit another cigarette.

  There was a general movement in the hall that had recruits falling over each other and pushing against their table before it settled down again and the piano started up.

  ‘And why not?’ Franz asked, ‘We need their space. They waste space. They’re only Slavs for God’s sake.’

  ‘Poland is full of Yids,’ Meissner mentioned.

  ‘All the more reason to take their bloody country.’

  ‘And then we’ll keep going.’

  ‘East,’ said Steiner.

  ‘East, West, North and South. We’re the army of the third Reich. It doesn’t matter what direction so long as we make it ours. That’s why you don’t have to feel anything for any of them. They’re not worth it, Yids, Slavs, Greeks, whatever. Here’s to wiping the shits out!’ exclaimed Meissner as he raised his empty glass.

  Steiner looked at him and then at his own glass of beer. Franz watched him for an instant and then stood up.

  ‘Yes. Good idea,’ said Frumm, ‘Let’s move.’

  ‘Already?’ asked Meissner.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘You’ve all just got here,’ Steiner put in.

  ‘Good nig
ht,’ said Franz before he turned to start to struggle his way through the crowd.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Meissner wanted to know when they were outside and Franz had started off down the cobbled street.

  ‘To see somebody,’ he called back.

  ‘Oh yes. Lucky you,’ Frumm laughed, ‘give her one for us old boy.’

  ‘For all of us,’ added Meissner who had Hammling staggering beside him.

  ----------------------------------------------------------------------

  Franz walked quickly to the end of the street before turning down an alleyway. This area of Meiteldorf was usually deserted after dark. He turned into another narrow street where the buildings from opposite side were almost touching overhead. He cut down the side of a building to where there was a low wall. Against it were several small outhouses. He went into one of them and came out with a knapsack that he slung over his shoulder.

  Five minutes later he was knocking at the door of a tall tenement building on one of the larger side streets that lead to the centre.

  After waiting and knocking again a woman opened the door.

  ‘Yes Herr Brucker, good evening. I suppose your brother is expecting you.’

  ‘Thank you Mrs Hoffner,’ Franz said as he stepped into the hallway, nodding at the stout, middle aged landlady.

  ‘Do you want me to show you up to his room?’

  ‘No. I don’t think that’s necessary. I can find my own way now. Thank you,’ was his answer as he started up the carpeted stairs, smoothing his hand up the wide, polished bannister rail.

  ‘I’ll leave you to it then,’ the landlady added as he went up to the next floor.

  He waited to hear the door to her room close.

  For a moment he stood there listening. There was a radio on upstairs. A truck rattled past outside. There were voices from the street and then quiet again.

  Finally he tapped on the door.

  There was little lighting on the stairs as he waited, hearing somebody change the radio station from one of the upper rooms.

  ‘Who is it?’ came a voice.

  ‘It’s Brucker. Open the door.

  ‘Are....are you by yourself?’

  ‘Of course I am. Hurry up and open the door.’