From the Ashes

by Sandra Saidak

  Tension was suddenly palpable in the room as the students thought about Adolf’s question.

  Then Krista said with a grin, “I don’t know, but it sounds like a great new project! Want some help with it, Ilsa?”

  “Sign me up, too!” said Adolf. After the initial shock, this new discovery was just one more daring defiance of their parents world; an attack on their stodgy sacred cows. Still, Adolf could see from several expressions, Karl in particular, that for some of his friends, this could be crossing a line.

  It didn’t matter, Adolf realized suddenly. He had crossed that line long ago.

  “How about Monday afternoons?” he asked Ilsa and Krista, who both nodded.

  The process of uncovering the changes in the Christian text proceeded slowly, but Adolf had no complaints. It kept him in close contact with two of his favorite people, and brought much of what he had learned of Judaism into a whole new light. It also left him in awe of the intellectual abilities of the women he worked with.

  Like most Aryan men, Adolf believed that even the brightest women were inferior to their male counterparts. Yet, as he listened to Krista translate Greek, Latin and English texts into German, or watched Ilsa study a two thousand page tome, and suddenly zero in on three paragraphs that were missing from a similar book she had read the week before, more than just his beliefs were shaken.

  “Oh, come now,” teased Krista, as they sat in the Judenmuseum one icy February evening. “You came here to question everything you believed in! Don’t let male pride get in the way of finding the truth. We thought you were different.”

  “I thought so too,” said Adolf. “I just didn’t realize that exploring new ideas would mean discovering that every girl I associate with is smarter than I am!”

  “Not every girl,” said Ilsa. “I’d say you and Heidi are about equal in I.Q. points.”

  “Thanks a lot,” said Adolf. He grinned, but inside, he didn’t feel very humorous. All his father’s doubts--quiet for so long--were starting to stir. I should be working harder on my studies, not wasting my time here, he thought.

  At that moment the door flew open, bringing the cold fury of a rainstorm into the room. Franz and Karl, both soaking wet, hurried inside. “You two had better get back to campus,” Karl said.

  “What’s up?” asked Krista.

  “Don’t know,” said Franz. “But the proctors are nervous, and the word is there’s going be a bed check at 2100 hours.”

  Adolf checked his watch. “We should make it if we hurry.” He stood, and helped Krista to her feet. “Any idea what they’re looking for?”

  “No, but we’ve all been told to report with our text books to the practice field tomorrow morning,” said Franz.

  “Our textbooks?” said Adolf. “All of them? Outside in the freezing cold? What for?”

  Karl shrugged. “I suppose another purge.”

  For all of Adolf’s nervousness the night before, the morning went quickly and smoothly. All five thousand University students assembled in the field, and were directed by proctors to place their textbooks in various piles, according to subject. When this was completed, the piles were bulldozed into one. The headmaster of the University, helped by two officials from the Department of Education poured kerosene over the huge mound, and then set it alight.

  Adolf watched in disbelief as the accumulated knowledge of four years of University study blackened, turned to ash and blew away. As he marched with the others to the library, not really sure what for, a single leaf from an unknown book drifted by on the wind. Adolf could not take his eyes off the singed edges; at the handful of words, still visible in the middle.

  In front of the library, the students lined up and proctors gave then new books for each subject.

  Then they all went to lunch.

  “You mean this has happened before?” Adolf asked over an untouched bowl of cabbage soup. The smell of burning paper still filled his nostrils.

  Karl nodded. “Two years ago, in my sophomore year. It was the same thing: no explanation, no discussion--”

  “And no questions if you’re smart,” said Frederick, setting his tray down and joining them.

  “Of course,” said Adolf. “But...it just doesn’t make any...how could they have had these new books ready--”

  “If you ask me,” said Franz, “I’d say the printers didn’t have much time to throw them together. They’re not very well made. Look at this Science book. The page setting is canted. And the illustrations--”

  “What illustrations?” said Frederick, pointing at the black and white sketches, which replaced the colored photographs taken with electron microscopes in the old book.

  “I call it an improvement,” said Klaus. “This History text is only half the length of the old one.”

  “They didn’t even give us a book for Mathematics,” said Adolf.

  “Like I said,” said Klaus. “An improvement.”

  “For us it’s an improvement,” said Karl. “But what does Adolf care? With his photographic memory, books are his friends!” Karl sounded unusually bitter, Adolf thought. But then again, with his poor grades, Karl was in serious danger of not graduating.

  He shook his head, still at a loss. “All those books--”

  “Quiet,” whispered Franz, as two assistant professors walked by.

  “We should suspend meetings for a while,” said Franz. “And avoid certain...places. Until things settle down.”

  Everyone nodded reluctantly.

  Things didn’t settle down.

  Classes were held as if nothing was amiss, yet students disappeared at an alarming rate. Always, it was the same: don’t ask questions; don’t appear overly concerned; and if anyone asks, say you hardly knew him. Rumors of conspiracies and treason flew far and wide, but nothing official arrived over the daily broadcasts; no assembly was held to inform or reassure the students. Tension was heavy in the air. Adolf wondered how long it would be before one of the museum crowd disappeared, and what that would mean for the rest of them.

  A letter from home brought Adolf his first bit of happy news since the purge: Frieda was pregnant. Adolf felt almost smug as he walked off campus to a nearby toy store, his mother’s letter tucked neatly into his breast pocket along with his identification papers. If he were questioned, he needed only to show the letter, and the soldiers would have no choice but to respond with congratulations and suggestions for a gift: to do otherwise would be unthinkable for any true Aryan man.

  As it turned out, none of the half dozen soldiers patrolling the street in front of the shop stopped him, and only cameras surveyed the activity within. Maybe things were settling down, thought Adolf.

  He bought a handmade blanket and a cuddly stuffed wolf. Leaving the shop, Adolf briefly considered stopping at the Judenmuseum and seeing how Ilsa was doing. His thoughts were interrupted by screams from a nearby alley. Guards hurried over, but after a few moments, continued on their way. One appeared to be telling a joke, for a few steps later, the whole group burst out laughing.

  The screams intensified, followed by the meaty thud of flesh striking flesh, then broken sobs and harsh laughter. Against his better judgment, Adolf ran into the alley.

  A young woman lay on her back on the filthy pavement. A man was on top of her, trying to pry her legs apart. Five other men surrounded the pair, cheering on their friend, for despite her battered face, the woman was putting up an impressive fight.

  The red bar code on her arm was all the explanation Adolf needed for why the soldiers had passed by.

  Red was also the color that bathed everything in Adolf’s vision as he leapt at the rapist. He was only peripherally aware that the other young men present were known to him: all were fellow University students.

  His opponent went over with a surprised grunt, and then whirled to face Adolf. The others all stared, their laughter cut off in unison. Still, two of them recovered fast enough to grab the woman and prevent her escape.

  Then it was Adolf’s turn for su
rprise when he saw his opponent was Josef Heydrich.

  “Just what the hell to you think you’re doing?” Heydrich demanded.

  “I was about to ask you the same thing,” said Adolf.

  “All missgeburt are under a curfew these days,” said Heydrich. “We caught this bitch out on the street with no good explanation. Her papers say she works for a jeweler across town.”

  “I was sent to deliver a watch,” cried the young woman. She was in her mid twenties, heavy boned and dark haired. Not the type to catch most men’s eyes, but her vulnerability made her attractive enough. To one type of man, at least. “I was on my way back to work. Ask my employer! Ask Herr Schindler—“

  “Shut up,” said Heydrich, hitting her in the face again. He turned to Adolf. “We’re just doing our part to keep order in difficult times. Want a turn, Adolf? Upper classmen first, of course. Being a freshman, you’ll have to go last.”

  “It’s nice to know everything I’ve heard about your charm with women is true,” Adolf said, smiling over shut teeth. “Tell me, Josef? Is this how you plan to treat my sister as well? That is, if my father has failed to regain his sanity, and could still consider marrying her to the bastard whelp of a swinehund!”

  All around Adolf there was total and complete silence. Even the sobbing woman caught her breath and held it.

  Heydrich released her and stood to face Adolf. “I would take that as an attack upon my honor, but you so defiled your own sister by comparing her to this missgeburt, that instead I challenge you on behalf of my bride to be!” He slapped Adolf twice across the face in the age-old challenge.

  “I will fight you only for your own honor—if you can still claim to have any!” said Adolf. “As for Leisl, you may have her over my dead body—whatever my father or yours may say on the matter!”

  Heydrich grinned. “At dawn then.” At a signal from their leader, the other men fell in step behind him, and marched away. Thus, Adolf learned that preparation for a campus duel was more important than rape.

  He turned to offer the missgeburt woman what assistance he could, but only caught a glimpse of her disappearing form as she fled down the alley.

  “Oh, Adolf, how did you get yourself into this?” asked Heidi.

  “I’ve been asking myself that all night,” said Adolf.

  They were in the practice field behind the gymnasium. Krista was lacing up Adolf’s boots, while Franz waited to take the shirt that Adolf was now unbuttoning. The chill air of the late February morning raised goose flesh on his naked arms and chest.

  “There’s two other duels this morning,” said Karl, arriving late. He rubbed his hands together, though whether from cold or anticipation, Adolf didn’t know.

  Krista nodded. “As stressed as everyone is, fights are breaking out everywhere. People are using duels to release the tension. The headmaster is actually promoting it, since it keeps them out of worse trouble.”

  “Which is a good thing for you, Adolf,” said Franz. “In the current climate, you don’t want it generally known that this whole thing started with you defending the honor of a missgeburt.”

  “It’s more than that,” said Frederic. “Josef Heydrich is a public nuisance. I wish this duel was to the death!”

  Adolf gagged on a sip from the water bottle Heidi gave him. “I assume that means you have great faith in my skill?” he asked Frederic.

  “Of course,” said Frederic, looking puzzled.

  Adolf had to smile. Here he was, about to make a fool of himself by dueling the best fencer on campus, yet he could only stare in wonder at how much his life had changed in just five short months. Last fall, no one could have penetrated his isolation enough for even an argument.

  Now he was surrounded by friends who had been willing to give up sleep and risk the scorn of the rest of the student body—all to stand with Adolf. When he had told them of the duel, everyone present had offered to be his second—including Heidi and Krista. In the end, Adolf had chosen Franz, simply because Franz had done it before. But he was touched beyond words. The support of his friends more than made up for the humiliating defeat he was about to suffer.

  But nothing could block from his mind the sight of that poor woman in the alley, nor stop the thought that had been haunting him ever since: that could have been Ilsa.

  “Herr Heydrich has arrived,” Franz said in the formal voice of a second. “We may proceed.”

  Josef, surrounded by his friends (all male, Adolf noticed) stopped midway across the field. One of them, a lanky, good looking senior, detached himself from the group, and walked to the designated area. Franz went to meet him.

  Adolf moved to follow, but Karl stopped him. “Wait until Franz gives you the signal. The seconds have to observe certain protocols.”

  “I just want to get it over with,” sighed Adolf. The duel would end with first blood. Since every Aryan man belonged to the Führer, no duel to the death could be fought without his permission. To do so was a grave offense, since it meant depriving the Führer of a valuable asset. Of course, accidents still happened.

  “Okay, that’s it,” said Krista, nudging Adolf. He had failed to notice Franz gesturing to him.

  As Adolf started across the field, his friends fell in step behind him—except for Klaus, who was asleep on the bench. Karl and Frederic went back, pulled him upright and dragged him along.

  “Why do they have to start these things so early?” Klaus muttered.

  “Because we’re not allowed to miss class for them,” said Karl.

  Adolf took his place across from Heydrich. Both men wore only black pants and boots. Legal target area consisted of all exposed flesh. For all that their dress was identical, Heydrich’s tanned, muscular form seemed to tower over Adolf. His perfectly cropped blond hair shone like gold, despite the fact that the sun wasn’t yet up.

  Adolf raised the special student’s dueling sabre and saluted his opponent. A fraction of a second later, Josef did the same. They dropped into en garde and took each other’s measure. Josef lunged, almost lazily. Adolf parried easily. Too easily. Heydrich was playing with him.

  After a few more exchanges, which served only to tire Adolf, Heydrich lunged, panther quick. Adolf retreated, and barely got the parry in time.

  Heydrich recovered from his lunge, slowly. Without thinking, Adolf attempted a riposte to the head. Too late, Adolf saw Heydrich spring his second intention attack. At the last second, Heydrich sped up his lunge recovery and retreated just out of Adolf’s reach. Adolf instinctively leaned forward in a vain attempt to connect with Heydrich’s body. Off balance, Adolf could only swear as Heydrich finished him off, with a moulinet as the parry, and the final insulting move as the moulinet finished with the blade cutting Adolf’s back.

  The game was over, Adolf realized. Heydrich’s plan had been to amuse the crowd, then cut Adolf on the back—a legal target, but not a normal place for a dueling scar: it would look as if Adolf had been running away.

  Adolf, to his and everyone else’s surprise, hadn’t stopped moving. He fell back to the classic en garde, stopping his blade’s motion a centimeter from Heydrich’s throat. Had Adolf kept moving, his blade, dulled as it was, would have slashed the carotid artery, killing his opponent. Heydrich’s second screamed “Halt!” trying to prevent Adolf from hitting Heydrich, but Adolf had already stopped moving.

  Both men leaned over, panting heavily. Franz hurried to bandage Adolf’s back, which stung fiercely, but the cut was not dangerous.

  Heydrich raised his arms to the ragged cheering of the small crowd. The sun had risen without Adolf being aware of it. They had all missed breakfast, and would have to hurry to get to morning classes on time.

  “You could have killed me,” Heydrich whispered, before his friends pulled him away.

  “That wasn’t allowed in this contest,” said Adolf.

  Heydrich laughed harshly. “What you mean is that you didn’t have the stomach for it! And you never will. Face it, Adolf, you’ll never be one of us; the M
aster Race has no use for cowards.”

  Josef was carried from the field on the backs of his minions, while Adolf’s friends surrounded him.

  “That was amazing!” said Krista.

  “You should have killed him when you had the chance,” said Karl.

  “Then what would have happened to Adolf?” demanded Frederic. “Scum like Heydrich isn’t worth a black mark on his record.” He turned to Adolf. “For what it’s worth, I’d rather loose like you than win like him.”

  “Same here,” said Franz.

  “I’ve heard that watching a duel causes sexual arousal in the spectators.” Klaus draped one arm each over Krista and Heidi. “Care to comment?”

  Adolf took time for a shower and arrived late to class, but it didn’t matter: he didn’t hear anything his teachers said all day.

  And that afternoon, despite the risk, he went to the Judenmuseum.

  It looked the same as ever, despite the political turbulence that churned the world around it. The entire district seemed even more run down than it had when Adolf first saw it, or perhaps it was just the dark gray clouds of February.

  Few soldiers patrolled this nearly deserted part of town, and Adolf was allowed the luxury of his own thoughts as he made his way down the crumbling stairs to the tiny building.

  Ilsa was mending socks at her desk when he stepped inside. She jumped at the sound of the door, and then relaxed when she saw who it was. “Shabbat Shalom, Adolf, though it’s not quite sunset.”

  That it was Friday took Adolf by surprise. He’d been away from the rituals of this room for too long. “Are you all right?” he asked Ilsa, feeling a bit foolish, since she obviously was.

  “Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You’re the one who fought a duel today.”

  “How did you know that?”

  “Word gets around, even here. It was wrong of me, since it exposes you to danger, but I was hoping you’d come by. I haven’t seen many friendly faces since the latest assassination attempt, or whatever’s happened to get everyone so riled up.”