The Twisted Patriot

by Pirate Irwin

  Sebastian didn’t know whether to be relieved or even more fearful than he already was; on the one hand he had already dealt with Johns, and he felt bested him, and he didn’t really seem the type to resort to physical abuse as he had a misplaced faith in his own intelligence to wrest information out of even the toughest of prisoners. On the other, Sebastian as Johns had rightly said was in a much more uncomfortable position than when they first jousted after the “breakout” reconnaissance from the camp. Then he had something to offer and Johns could give him his life; now he was under arrest for treason and again his fate was in the hands of the smooth, callous officer circling him like a triumphant vulture. However, Sebastian also knew that Johns was an arch survivor and if he could play on his English nationality and he had been an agent all along that come the end of the war he could gain him valuable kudos with the Allies. It wasn’t much but it was something to work with and he was going to play it for all it was worth, after all, Sebastian mused, when you are battling for your life all you have is your wits, and that counted far more than any faith or courage one possessed – seeing the destroyed body of von der Schulenburg had been testimony to that.

  Johns was on his own, which struck Sebastian as strange as he had been sure more people had entered the room, but casting glances to his left and right he saw no one and though the dank large cell was only lit by one bare light bulb hanging loosely over the table he quickly ascertained there were no thugs lurking in the dark recesses of the chamber. Fortunately Johns had put on some rather strong aftershave that day –or night because without any natural light in the Prinz-Albrecht-Strasse headquarters cell quarter it was impossible to tell – which virtually erased the stench in the chamber. He was sure it was not for his benefit but nevertheless he was thankful for Johns’ vanity in this instance. The war looked as if it had treated him well as he was little different in appearance to the last time they had seen each other in Cottbus, but such thoughts were suddenly rudely interrupted as Johns halted at the table and untied a thick folder, poring over several sheets of paper before looking at Sebastian and shaking his head like a schoolteacher to a badly behaved pupil. “Dear me, Sebastian, you have been keeping bad company since you accepted my generous terms of joining the German Army,” he tut-tutted in a patronizing tone. “Let’s see, I shall name but a few, though just one name will suffice and you probably saw him on the way here. Von der Schulenburg. I will not do them the honour of voicing their ranks or first names as they are now designated non-people, though we shall still in our unerring implementation of justice give them a trial, which is beyond me. Who else? Ah yes, von Helldorf, that bisexual pervert whose title would be best abridged from Count to the removal of the o, Beckmann, thankfully already dispensed with, von Tresckow and von Schlabrendorff, as well as numerous others. So how can you explain this rather curious selection of friends and acquaintances, hmm?” he smiled.

  Sebastian opted to play for time and reflected on the list of names he had read out, which was just that, with no clear evidence he had actively colluded with them nor indeed any mention of his visit to police headquarters on the night of the coup, nor indeed that he had got completely drunk with von Helldorf at Kessler’s and nothing at all about pulling a gun on Fromm, who he had learnt was still alive and had been arrested. Nonetheless, he knew Johns had just started and he didn’t want to overplay his hand too soon because he had no idea what was to come. He swallowed and prepared himself for the start of a long session where he expected everything to be repudiated but he was not going to give in and he was certainly not going to confess. “Well, Johns, I may be guilty by association but that I believe is no crime against the state. I have made a misjudgement in whom I spent time with, but then two of those names you mention were unavoidable as I was seconded to Army Group Centre and those two men were my immediate superiors and a good example to an inexperienced staff officer. I would have no idea where their political loyalties lay as it was never discussed. Because while you may not be aware of what life is like on the front, I can tell you that things develop so fast that you barely have time to think about one’s next move and therefore none at all for kids’ games of political intrigue. Also, if one has Field Marshal von Kluge as your commander, then you have to be alert the whole time to contradict his orders or at least challenge him on them,” replied Sebastian.

  Johns had taken a seat by now, though Sebastian noticed he had not been happy with his remark about his lack of service at the front and promised to use it again should the opportunity arise, and smiled appreciatively at his sparring partner’s defiant response. He stroked his chin in reflective fashion, observing irritatedly that he had missed a section when he had been shaving this morning but he had been so excited at his interrogation of Sebastian that day that he had been in another world.

  “Ah, von Kluge, ‘Clever Hans’ as he became known. Not so clever, I would say, and very much of the late variety as he chose the coward’s way out not so long ago leaving a most obsequious letter to the Führer claiming undying loyalty – there’s an irony considering the fate he had chosen – and claiming he had never done anything to plot against the regime and yet he took his own life. Curious. Von Tresckow didn’t at least go that far in protesting his innocence – he simply wandered out into no-man’s land and blew himself up. Good riddance to that troublemaker,” said Johns without the slightest emotion in his voice.

  He noticed Sebastian blanche at the news and without waiting for him to recover from the blow he waded in. “So, you say you didn’t share any political ideas with von Tresckow’s group, and yet why did von Schlabrendorff make such an effort to follow you to Rastenburg and end up scuffling with you? You were already being sent home in relative disgrace and I cannot see what on earth a man who I have heard was no friend of yours would be doing running after you. So tell me, what was so urgent?”

  Sebastian was shocked that Johns knew such details and wondered whether von Schlabrendorff had cracked and given everything he knew, but then that would not make sense, as it was him and not Sebastian who had organized the extra strong cognac for the plane ride back to Rastenburg. It must have been the SS sergeant, who had burst in on them; in any case it didn’t really matter now. What he needed was a realistic answer. “I think I need a lawyer,” smiled Sebastian, trying to make a joke of it, but Johns remained stony-faced.

  “Well, it is true von Schlabrendorff and I were hardly on good terms and I was surprised to find him in my room when I returned from the breakfast room that morning. However, he claimed that he, too, had been rerouted to Rastenburg and had been told to wait with me as we were both to take the same flight to Berlin. As for the reason we fought, well that is a personal matter and nothing to do with any plot or conspiracy and I would venture further that I would be extremely surprised if he were involved, notwithstanding the fact he and Colonel von Tresckow were extremely close,” Sebastian said.

  Johns again smiled and proceeded to sift further through the papers before him. “What about your relationships with the von Preetz family? Did you enjoy screwing your patron’s wife and making him a source of ridicule, not to mention what you were doing to your best friend. You know, of course that he committed suicide?”

  “Of course I bloody well know that. As you fucking well know, I was serving alongside him and was there when the incident happened!” replied Sebastian angrily, wondering where this line of questioning was going.

  “Temper, temper Sebastian. Remember where you are. Raised voices are not welcome here, particularly from the prisoners. Now one thing you may not be aware of is that the reason young von Preetz ended his days prematurely had nothing to do with the pressures out in the eastern front and everything to do with you and your availing of his stepmother’s carnal pleasures,” remarked Johns in an even tone.

  Sebastian didn’t know whether to laugh or simply hit him but sensibly opted for the former. “Johns, you are very good, you are. Trying to get me back for my comments about your relationship with w
hat was her name, Inger, back in Cottbus. You really should try harder. He was very depressed by the war and the constant pressures being put on the frontline soldiers and the barbarity of not just the partisans and Soviet forces but also of the so called pure Aryan race purporting to be the knights in shining armour come to cleanse the east of those savage Slavs,” said Sebastian drily.

  Johns simply smirked, eased one of his feminine finely manicured hands through his salt and pepper hair, and retorted while flinging a piece of yellowing paper in his direction: “Maybe you should appraise yourself of the real facts, you self-centred prick.”

  Sebastian snatched at the paper and scanned the handwritten letter, which was addressed to Victoria. It appeared to be Eric’s writing and he didn’t have to read it all to know what it contained which was a vicious but justified assault on her and indeed him and what they were doing to his father and by extension, himself. It ended chillingly: “I cannot go on any longer fighting this dreadful war with the thought that the man most dear to me is being betrayed in such a loathsome fashion and the thought that I am a comrade in arms of the fellow who is the other player in the foul deed. It sounds very Greek tragedy and knowing your poor appreciation of the Classics I don’t expect you to understand that, but I have decided to become the first willing victim of this appalling betrayal of trust. Maybe this will spur my father into what he should have done a long time ago and throw you out onto the streets where you can earn a living suited to your talents and I believe a lucrative one, though of course, the way the war is going you may find a diminishing return. Furthermore, one piece of parting advice, I would get out of Berlin before the Soviets arrive, as they surely will, because they don’t pay and they carry I should think all the diseases imaginable. One piece of comfort for me is that contrary to what you may believe, Sebastian does not spend his days pining for you and I certainly do not encourage him to love you any more than he should. So, sweet foulmouthed stepmother, I bid you farewell and may you prosper in Hitler’s Inferno, for that is surely where you belong. Yours, Eric.”

  Sebastian was dumbfounded and slumped back against the hard back of the poorly crafted wooden chair and slowly the tears came forth, becoming rivulets and then like waterfalls as his whole body was racked by his misery and guilt that he had been the cause of his best friend’s death. Johns stayed where he was, impassive and impervious to the sobbing creature before him. He had him now and he was going to go in for the kill, proving once again that brains could deliver much more than brawn and it was only a shame he hadn’t been allowed to interrogate the main plotters, or at least those who had survived Fromm’s panicked attempt at getting rid of evidence implicating him. “Where did you get this?” sobbed Sebastian before adding, “How should I trust you that this is authentic?”

  John heaved a sigh of irritation before replying, “You may notice there are some bloodstains on the corners. That is because he wrote it the night he died, and Beckmann picked it up. He not wanting you to be upset by the contents felt it only right to deliver it to that whore at the funeral. She gave it to us most willingly when we asked her for anything that might allow you to become more pliable. I really don’t think that woman has any human feeling in her body, not that that was what you were after, of course,” added Johns sarcastically. Sebastian saw the stains and then thought back to the funeral and how he had interrupted Beckmann and Victoria in earnest discussion and he thinking it was her trying to make him envious of her pulling power. He couldn’t believe that Eric had never talked to him about it, not even that fateful evening when they had sauntered down the street of the captured village drunk and in equally depressed moods.

  “What about you pulling the gun on Fromm?” interjected Johns brutally and taking him unawares. Sebastian shifted uneasily on his chair, almost numb to the shift in questioning but sufficiently aware that this could decide whether he persuaded Johns of his innocence or guilt. To be truthful, Sebastian didn’t know what the hell to say and decided he should just reply with the first thing that came into his head and gamble as he usually did because he was in no state to think logically about it, and in any case Johns obviously sensed victory and was in no mood to allow him time to squirm out of the situation. He breathed deeply and went for broke. “General Fromm was quite patently not following the orders issued earlier in the day and which were followed by most officers based in Berlin and who have subsequently like myself declared their allegiance to the regime and the Führer. The Valkyrie order was issued which releases us to protect the state once we were informed of the somewhat premature death of Hitler. Fromm was quite clearly incapable of following such a routine and in spite of his senior rank and that he was the commanding officer of the Reserve Army I took the decision that he was not going to fall into line and therefore was a liability, which in fact he was from the moment he assumed command of the Army, but that is another matter. I would say his behaviour when it was learnt that we had been fooled by a small number of disloyal members of the staff reflects his incapacity to command. He effectively removed vital evidence of their wrongdoing and perhaps you and your superiors should reflect on why any man of such rank should do that. Either he is incompetent and should never have reached such an exalted position of command or else there is something more sinister behind his actions. That I leave to you as I am sure you will not be calling me as a prosecution witness at his trial.”

  Johns looked baffled at this reasoned response from his prisoner and amazed that he had the wherewithal to come up with such a defiant stance against what he termed incontrovertible evidence. He did not like Sebastian and he desperately wanted to have him condemned, but he had to concede that the evidence against Fromm was similar and the way it had been put to him just then was convincing and he reflected the scalp of a general was somewhat more rewarding than that of a major, even if you detested him for his arrogance and his superior airs. Still, it didn’t mean Sebastian was going to earn a reprieve and walk out of the building a free man; there was enough to convict him on and lesser evidence had already accounted for others of nobler stature than this Englishman. Whatever happened, he would eventually have to account for himself in front of his peers and whether they be German or English, he couldn’t care less. Johns rose and put on his black leather gloves and placed his SS cap on his head, tipping it back slightly so Sebastian could see he had not beaten him. “Herr Sebastian it has been a pleasure, as always. You were right about one thing and it has nothing to do with that rather painful self-serving monologue you just bored me with. You will need a lawyer and a bloody good one at that,” he said triumphantly and as he left the chamber he twisted the knife for good measure. “By the way, as an act of former comradeship, or should I say, during my brief stay in the British Army, you can keep that letter. It is of little interest to me with its tawdry details and could prove useful for your defence. That is, once you reach the gates of heaven and they decide whether in fact adultery is still a cardinal sin and send you to where you belong along with that whore – Hell!”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  It wasn’t Hell to where Sebastian went, but it just as well might have been. Flossenburg concentration camp soon took away any joy he had felt at escaping the death penalty, as he knew each day in the place he risked summary execution, though less so than the Soviet prisoners of war who regularly featured as target practice for the brainless guards that swaggered round the vast encampment, barely acknowledging the fact they were playing out the last dying days of their baleful regime and soon enough they would be having to account for their crimes. Some days Sebastian thought Hell would have been better or at the very least warmer, as his threadbare clothes couldn’t withstand the icy winds that blew in and even inside his cell – for they were kept separate from the other benighted prisoners who had to live in overcrowded huts – there was little protection as the wind seeped through the many cracks and whistled round as if it was the regime inflicting its wrath on those who they deemed Untermenschen or who were enemies
of the state. He would lie shivering on his straw matted bunk and try and keep his mind off the dreadful events he had witnessed during his incarceration in Berlin, the trial if it could be called one, for all its bias and the subsequent executions of his friends and comrades. A few like him had got off the ultimate sentence, heaven knows how, but then it all seemed like a lottery and if you happened to get the judge Roland Freisler on a good day, which was rare, and it was more likely to be a few minutes of each day, then perhaps you got the winning numbers.

  That went for relatively lowly members such as him, but for the likes of von Helldorf and von der Schulenburg there was no hope, even von Witzleben didn’t escape despite his swift departure from the Bendlerstrasse that night and his subsequent attempts to disassociate himself from the plot. For them it became a question of shall we go meekly or shall we resist to the end by statements or plain rudeness. Sebastian couldn’t speak on behalf of von Helldorf as he had not been tried with him, but for von der Schulenburg he could, as he had been in court the day he was tried and the man had only got bigger in his eyes. Despite having to hold onto his trousers as they refused to allow the plotters any belts so they looked even more ragged and down at heel primarily for the cameras which were churning out the propaganda turning them into figures of hate, he stayed dignified and his rhetoric was explosive, provoking Freisler – who made England’s infamous Hanging Judge “Jeffreys” seem like a pussycat – into ever more frenzied bursts of abuse. Drawing himself up to his six feet and something the ramrod-backed von der Schulenburg left his lasting legacy to the German people and declared amazingly without being interrupted by Freisler: “We resolved to take this deed upon ourselves in order to save Germany from indescribable misery. I realize that I shall be hanged for my part in it, but I do not regret what I did and only hope that someone else will succeed in luckier circumstances.” Freisler was furious but those of the plotters present in court had to be restrained by their guards from standing up and applauding him.