The compartment was full of men in white coats with long grey beards that gently undulated in the breeze as they spoke to each other. ‘It is a hopeless case of Femiphobia acutis,’ said the eldest. ‘Sister, do the necessary.’
Christine was with me in the compartment, dressed exactly as I had last seen her in a sleeveless pinafore. Only the bonnet was different. She was now wearing the coquettish cap of the nurse's uniform. She curtsied and said, ‘Heil Hitler! Herr Maat, show me your tongue. Your tongue is white. You must have swallowed pieces of paper. Just a minute, Herr Maat.’ She bent over to retrieve the first-class spittoon which was kept in the corner of the room; her apron was tightening around her like a barrage balloon causing the seams to stretch and threatening to burst. She held the spittoon under my chin. ‘The bits of paper, please sir. The Gestapo will be able to piece it together again …’
***
‘If he is feverishly ranting and raving, we cannot leave him here on his own. This at least we owe the captain. Who knows what he might reveal.’
I opened my eyes, blinking heavily as it was now as light as day in my room. My friends the Student and the Baron were seated next to me on the bed. It still felt as though there was a piano on my breast but it was no longer a grand piano, only a little pianola. I was still finding it difficult to breathe. ‘What is happening to me?’ I asked my friends.
Both answered in unison: ‘Don't call in sick under any circumstances.’
I felt little inclination to do so after all I had discovered about the hospitals there. ‘This must be my reward for being an exemplary soldier,’ I complained. ‘Yesterday I went straight to see the captain even though my feet were ice-cold and still wet. I had to stand to attention for at least ten minutes and that must have finished me off. At home I used to be told off for coming back wet and dirty, and the first thing I always had to do was take off my shoes. If I had been able to hop around a bit or jump from one foot to the other while listening to the captain's lecture, I may not have been hit so hard. I can only say that the captain has only himself to blame if he loses one of his best petty officers as a result. And what about you two? Are you just going to hang around and watch me die?’
‘He is having a go at us so he must be feeling better,’ the Baron said in a friendly manner. ‘Don't get too close, Adalbert. Influenza is very catching. We were just debating whether it would be necessary to cut off your tongue if the harbour commando realised how ill you were and transferred you to the infirmary. We were thinking a few deep cuts might have been sufficient.’ I was feeling sick.
‘Is that the way to treat an ill person,’ the skinny Student said to his corpulent friend. ‘You forget what can happen! Ah … thank goodness, here come our saviours!’
Heavy steps could be heard outside the door and two sailors appeared, carrying an oxygen siphon from the U-boat.
‘How did you manage to smuggle that out?’ I asked, my voice still faint but full of admiration.
‘We told the sentry that it was a devil of a machine and that we had to demonstrate its workings to the officers,’ the Baron said. With that the sentry stepped aside and let them pass. Then he took it off them and, opening the valve, passed the refreshing blast of air to me and said, ‘Take deep breaths and don't forget: every quarter of an hour is worth more than two bottles of champagne. Enjoy!’
The sailors wandered off and I was hoping for some clarification with only the three of us in the room, but it was not to be.
There was a sharp knock on the door. Without thinking I called out, ‘Come in!’ I was very surprised to see a male civilian at the door, bowing elegantly in the doorway.
‘Don't disturb us! Can't you see we are busy attending a dying man,’ said the Baron. At the same time the Student called out, ‘We’re in the middle of a secret instruction, no visitors allowed!’ Unfortunately there had been no time to co-ordinate their responses, so both lacked the necessary impact.
‘Excuse me, what did you say?’ the stranger asked. He didn't understand because both had spoken at once. This was good because their messages were mixed and would have confused him no end. The gentleman was tall and broad, had a complexion of milk and blood, rosy, wonderfully smooth cheeks, flashing dark blue eyes and a blonde handlebar moustache. Despite having a bit of a belly, one could say with full conviction that he was a truly attractive man and in the prime of his life. He was dressed impeccably in a silk-lined, pale brown overcoat of the softest material which he was wearing unbuttoned over a charcoal-grey jacket of rough English cloth, striped trousers and patent leather shoes. Pale gaiters, a pearl on his silk cravat, and a solitaire on his slightly chubby fingers added further distinction. His rosy, freshly washed neck contrasted against the snowy-white collar of his shirt. His teeth flashed like chalk cliffs. The man smelt of Russian cologne and all that was good and expensive. His clothes and looks gave him an air of confidence, which made his momentary discomfort all the more comical.
‘Do I have the honour of being in the company of the petty officers from the torpedo room?’ he asked, looking from one man to the next, surveying the room containing the siphon and the man on the bed with a sore red nose. He must have been trying to piece together some sense from the snippets of information he had gleaned from the other two men. My mates remained silent to avoid further confusion so it was up to me to take control of the situation.
‘Yes, we are petty officers,’ I clarified to the intruder, ‘but as you can see, we are busy. If you have brought tokens of appreciation, please leave them on the table. You may throw my clothes on the floor as there's nothing fragile in my pockets.’ It appeared that he hadn't come bearing gifts.
‘My honoured sirs,’ he continued, in a flattering tone, ‘pray give ten minutes of your precious time so that I may explain myself and you won't regret it.’
As the others didn't say anything I responded graciously, ‘Go ahead. We are all ears.’ I deposited the siphon on the floor, being accustomed to operating a similar apparatus in my employment as a dental technician.
The tall attractive man prepared to shed hat and coat and sit down but we didn't encourage him. He was left standing awkwardly in the middle of the room and began talking, not quite at ease. ‘Dear sirs, between you, your military awards prove without doubt that you possess fine fighting spirit and exemplary patriotism. I do not need to assure you that my intention is not to question your loyalty. But there is change in the air. No one can foresee the future and those who are smart will look at alternatives to the current climate.’
The Baron was the first to lose his patience. ‘I don't know what you’re suggesting but you can stop there. You have brought no tokens of appreciation, and we’re not interested in what you have to say. We value our time on leave and don't want to waste a moment of it. Besides, any minute one of our officers could come in on an inspection.’
‘I do not fear your officers,’ said the civilian. ‘On the contrary, I invite them to join us so that they may see what I have to offer and you can witness the respect in which I am held by the command of the navy. Only last week I wrote a cheque to cover the fitting out of two U-boats, and that was without any ulterior motive; out of pure patriotism. If this fact was not well known then I would never have been able to visit you here personally. Your officer-in-command offered to show me around and introduce me, but I had my personal reasons for not doing so because I wanted to talk to you without supervision.’ He was finally getting to the point.
‘In the ’20s I had an intimate relationship with the National Liberal Party and I was very supportive of the party members. I could afford it because I am a factory owner in the tinned food and canned drinks business. But even then I had a higher aim and was weighing up my options carefully, coming to the right conclusion at the time. I supported our Führer in the early days when he still knew all the names of the other members of his party. I must say that this money was a very good investment. I have not regretted it for one minute. But now gentlemen, I have it f
rom a good source that you three are members of the opposition, intellectual leaders of the growing resistance to the current system. Please count on my support, but I will not leave the NSDAP, the Nazi Party, at this stage. You know only too well how impossible this would be because you yourselves are esteemed members of the party. I would like you to realise, dear sirs, that I wish you all good luck and success in your endeavours, and please remember that I was one of the few who showed the foresight to seek you out. I count on you to remember this conversation; have I made myself clear enough?’
‘We understand you fully,’ I responded, as the others were as silent as carps. ‘We are three educated men, even if we don't look like it in our current outfit. I myself have the gift of poetic language. To sum up, you wish to support and revere the dawn of a new beginning.’
He repeated the phrase. ‘Well put,’ he said, obviously moved by the words. ‘Our beloved Führer or Bismarck himself would not have been able to express it in finer words. Yes, gentlemen, that is indeed my intention. Make me your supporter and benefactor. Every idealist movement needs cash’ – and here he took out his cheque book – ‘and I am not one who puts things off, especially when it comes to paying out money. What shall I put on the cheque to enable me to become a member and sponsor?’
Before any of my friends could say a word I stepped in quickly. ‘This is something we will need to discuss privately.’ I pulled the heads of my mates close together, regardless of the danger that one of them might catch my strain of influenza. It was one of those cases where one had to throw caution to the wind. We could not talk out loud with him present but I was also reluctant to let him out into the hallway. He might have a run-in with the sentries or change his mind about the donation. In my pocket there was a folded piece of brown paper and the end of a pencil. I said to the others: ‘Write down what you think is a fair amount so that we can come to an agreement.’ The Student was the first to get the pencil and wrote 25 marks. Without batting an eyelid I passed the paper on to the Baron who wrote down 400 marks. Then it was my turn and both watched me over my shoulder.
I wrote down 36,500 marks, then corrected myself and changed one of the digits, making it 36,600 marks. I wasn't sure what we were going to do with all the money but it seemed to make sense to have a sum that was easily divisible by three.
My friends were too shocked to protest. I said to the fizzy drinks tycoon: ‘We have agreed on the sum of 36,600.’ As his face grew longer, I added: ‘You are under no obligation of course. If your circumstances do not allow it, then we can forget everything that was discussed in these four walls.’
‘No, no, don't be so rash. Do you think I'm a small child? I'm a factory owner and in charge of more than 12,000 workers!’ He seemed mildly offended and started scribbling away in his cheque book. ‘One more thing: I would be very grateful if you did not go to the bank and cash it straight away. A sum like this would be a little unusual and could lead to unwelcome attention which we all want to avoid. It would be best if you went to the cashier at my factory. I will arrange for enough money to be available for you in the morning. They are used to me requesting such sums as I often require them for loans.’ He seemed proud of this fact. ‘Here is your cheque,’ he passed it to me since I had been the one conducting the negotiations. ‘No, please don't bother writing a receipt. I don't have a safe on the moon and I don't know anywhere on this planet safe enough for such an item. I only ask that you remember me once you are in power. Very kind of you, dear gentlemen, to offer me a seat now but I was just about to go. I am pleased that we understood each other so well. Farewell and all the best. Do you have a special salute or slogan yet? … No? Well for the time being, heil Hitler and God bless.’
Once he had left the room we didn't open the window, as all the pleasant smells that surrounded him would have disappeared within minutes. Since I was still recuperating, the windows remained closed and the smells of expensive hair pomade, expensive soap and expensive cologne lingered in my room for at least an hour.
NOTE
1 From The Cranes of Ibycus, a ballad written by Friedrich Schiller.
10
DIVISION OF THE LOOT
If there had been a clock in the room we all would have been able to hear it ticking, we were all three so very quiet. I turned the cheque around in my hand and studied the date, the signature and the fantastic sum. Then I passed the slip of paper to the Student, saying, ‘Here you go. You look after it!’ The Student gave it to the Baron: ‘No, you take it. I don't have a briefcase and my pockets are full of holes.’
Many a young man from a humble background like me has become rich and powerful. That was nothing new. But the new thing was to become rich and powerful without being aware of it and having put no effort into it. Perhaps I, who was lying feverish and shivering on a simple straw bed, was destined for greatness and did not know it. Perhaps there were already hundreds or even thousands of fearless soldiers who saw in me their new leader, the organiser of a second, more ground-breaking revolution? In the old days many great men were led away from their ploughs while fate bestowed on them a crown and sceptre. Was my background as dental technician not just as worthy as a farmer's in a muddy field? But as always when I was painting too rosy a picture of the future, doubts and reservations began to take hold. If I really was this revolutionary sailor, this born-again Spartacus, then where were the clues in the diaries of my predecessor? Where were his hidden funds without which one shouldn't enter into a revolution?
The Student broke the silence first. ‘Do you think they have a psychiatrist in the navy commando? I think I may have lost my mind!’ He put his hands on his head.
The Baron interjected, ‘That's so typical of you, looking for help in the wrong faculty. We don't need a doctor. We need a lawyer. Someone who can tell us what needs to be done with the money. What do you think, Gotthold?’
I made as if I was about to answer and tried to sit up straight but then let myself fall back as if lacking strength. With a faint movement of my hand I gestured that I was too weak to answer. As I was going through these motions I noted with satisfaction that I was indeed finally feeling a little better.
The Student answered on my behalf: ‘I don't think Gotthold will come up with any explanation. I have a much more urgent question: How did this man find us? Do you think he knows of our connection to Leo?’
The Baron answered with some irritation, ‘The Geheime Macht is a fairly secret and private operation with purely practical aims. Nothing to do with this dawn of a new beginning that so captured the man's imagination. But if you really think we should act like crazy people then we may as well send Leo the money so he can spend it all in the expensive nightclubs of London. That good-for-nothing doesn't deserve it. He promised to get us all out of here and now it's autumn and we’re still sitting here waiting.’
He was right, I thought: Leo was useless and I also didn't think we should send him the money. I was very doubtful that the Reichsbank in Kiel would allow a transfer of that kind of sum in any case. But the fact that all three of us were still waiting to be helped was not quite true in the sense they thought. However, this was something I could not explain to them or to elucidate further.
‘Mates!’ the Baron exclaimed, after some time considering the situation. ‘I think I know what has been going on. Psst! Come here! Come a little closer.’ He checked under the bedspread to see if there was a hidden microphone or bug. ‘Last night U-boat XYZ arrived from the Baltic. I was speaking to Anton who happened to overhear that their petty officers in the torpedo room really are connected to …’ His voice became so low that I could no longer understand anything. I did, however, have a good idea of whom they were referring to.
‘And you think that the man with the super-clean neck just got us mixed up?’ the Student asked, almost holding his breath.
‘Do you have any other explanation?’ the Baron retorted.
It seemed plausible to me, but sadly it had also put an end to my dreams
of becoming a revolutionary with thousands of followers. At least I still had two mates and a few sailors on my side, although Anton was not showing due respect of late. I was disappointed, very disappointed. I was not destined to play the role of a hero such as Francis Drake or Klaus Störtebecker. Even if my plan did come to fruition my name wouldn't make it onto the billboards. It was possible that I might get a small mention at the very end, thanks to a friendly unnamed consultant or such like. I drew a breath and asked the Baron: ‘Getting back to question number one – what do you think of our situation in your capacity as a legally trained person?’
He sat down comfortably, stretched his legs and began to expatiate. ‘It is very likely that the money isn't meant for us but the petty officers on our sister ship, the U-XX. It is probably a case of the beneficiary being mixed up; an error in persona so to speak. If it had been a simple donation then we would have been committed to returning the money or passing it on to the correct party. As this was not a donation as such, but a gift that necessitates a service in return, then do ut des – I give that you may give, as one would say in Latin. The case is further complicated by the fact that we, or should I say you, set out the sum to be paid thereby acting as a director without authority. This also poses the question of whether we are indirectly obligated to the donator and have committed ourselves to a service in return? This is further complicated by the fact that the expected service was linked to a condition. You heard with your own ears how our odoriferous patron said if, meaning, only in the case that we (or rather, the other U-boat) should come to power. This leaves us with the following conundrum: If we give the money to the swine on the other boat, are we not thereby harming our benefactor? He is an amateur in all matters pertaining to the military and would not understand the ignominy of being the sponsor and donor to a U-boat that constantly misses its aim.’
Any Survivors (2008) Page 13
