The Shadow of War

by Jack Murray

  In a matter of a few minutes, Manfred was dressed and outside. He walked towards the main square, pretending not to notice the two girls, hoping they would shout over to him.

  They didn’t.

  He walked into a shop selling confectionery to buy a bar of chocolate. A moment of inspiration struck, and he bought three bars. Exiting the shop, he set off in the direction of the two girls.

  ‘Happy Christmas,’ he said displaying the chocolate.

  Nina’s friend, Katrine asked, ‘For us?’

  ‘Of course,’ replied Manfred with a smile that, he hoped, hid his nervousness, ‘I don’t see any other beautiful ladies around.’

  Both of the girls giggled not at the wit so much as the gaucheness of the approach and obvious terror in Manfred’s eyes. Neither girl considered the tall, blond-haired boy before them at all bad looking. In fact, he was one of the most handsome boys from the school. He was often discussed among the girls but rarely with great enthusiasm. There was always something.

  He was quiet, which they did not mind. Good looking, obviously. But there was something in his manner, an uncertainty, an awkwardness that made his company difficult. One felt uneasy with him. This was the case now. The two girls waited to see if he had anything fresh to offer beyond the chocolate and a nervous smile. This was a problem, because Manfred was right out of ideas on what to do now. A part of him wished Erich was here; he was better with girls. Having a sister seemed to make him understand how to talk to this alien breed.

  Manfred, as he stood there looking down at the two girls who were now smiling to one another conspiratorially, felt lost. Finally, he asked, ‘How was your Christmas?’

  But the moment had gone. It was too late. Several seconds too late. It was obvious he was struggling, and they had simply lost interest in him. Again.

  Katrine said hers was very good and thanked him. Nina didn’t bother saying anything. It was a dismissal. He didn’t know much about the opposite sex, but he knew when someone was closing a conversation off. He had enough experience with his mother. He wished them a good day and he returned to his house, his face burning hot in the chill morning air.

  -

  After lunch, Manfred made his way over to Erich’s house. The earlier humiliation still seared his mind. It was time to have a man to man conversation with his friend and understand how Erich managed to be on such good terms with so many girls. As much as he liked his friend, he was no Aryan ideal. Shorter by at least five centimetres, he was not fat but certainly stocky. He had a confident air about him that made him good company for both sexes.

  Along the way he passed the old house of Professor Kahn. He stopped for a moment as he realised new people were moving in. It had remained unoccupied for over three years since Kahn had been arrested. A strange day. A day he would never forget. This was not because it was a teacher. In Manfred’s experience, teachers came and went. Nor because it was someone, he quite liked. No, the circumstances were as bizarre as they were sudden. Manfred’s mind went back three years.

  -

  Spring 1935, outside the classroom window, Manfred could see the cornflowers blooming like a purple sea; the wind creating ripples on the surface that broke outward like tiny waves. As he gazed through the window, he saw a grey-brown Opel Olympia drawing up outside the school. Two men stepped out from the car. The driver was a short no-nonsense type. He wore a raincoat and a fedora. The second man was taller, fair-haired and walked with a distinct limp. Manfred guessed he would have been old enough to have fought in the war. Their arrival caused a stir in the class and Professor Kahn had to work hard to regain the attention of the pupils.

  The class continued for another ten minutes but the whispered hum did not subside. All of the boys were certain the two new arrivals were members of the Gestapo. Why had they come to the school? Manfred soon found out.

  A few minutes before the end of the class, the headmaster of the school knocked on the door and then entered. The class immediately stopped what they were doing rose from their seats as if one body.

  ‘Herr Professor,’ said the headmaster, ‘Come with me.’ It was an order, curt and contemptuous, like he was speaking to an errant pupil. Turning to the class he said, ‘Class sit down. Wait here in silence until the bell and then leave for your next class.’

  Kahn and the headmaster left the classroom. A minute later, the class rushed over to the window, scrambling to get a view. They watched Kahn being led away by the two men. The car drove off in a hurry.

  ‘Did you see that?’ exclaimed one pupil, ‘His wife was in the car, too.’

  ‘I know, I saw Julia Kahn there also,’ said one of the girls, referring to the young daughter of the Kahn’s.

  ‘It’s the Gestapo, no question,’ said Erich, voicing everyone’s thoughts at that moment.

  The class returned to their seats but moments later a voice said, ‘Look! There’s another car.’

  Several boys left their seats and went to the window. It was another Opel Olympia. A man in a trench coat stepped out from the back. He walked in through the front entrance.

  ‘More Gestapo by the looks of things,’ said one boy. By now the whole class was balanced precariously by the window, fascinated by the events.

  Moments later the man stormed out shouting at the head teacher who was following him. The class was stunned. They had never seen their head teacher looking so meek. It felt like he was now the naughty schoolboy. Manfred wasn’t sure if he was enjoying the spectacle or uncomfortable with the fact that he did not understand what was happening. In fact, the whole class was wondering the same thing.

  ‘What’s happening?’ asked a girl, a little fearfully. The car door slammed shut and within seconds roared away from the school. Manfred glanced at Erich, who merely shrugged.

  A new teacher arrived the next day. The fate of Professor Kahn was never mentioned again. To talk of the professor openly was to risk punishment; everyone understood this. Manfred felt uneasy about the arrest. Although no one spoke of Kahn in public, in private the boys came up with ever more viciously implausible theories on why Kahn had been arrested and also the mystery of the two cars.

  One boy blamed him for the murder of a local SS man that had taken place a day earlier. Manfred almost laughed when he heard that. Whatever Professor Kahn was, he was certainly no murderer. But Manfred remained silent and let the stories career wildly along. All of the boys knew the real reason why he had been taken. It was as obvious as it was simple. Except for the second car. No one could explain this mystery.

  Professor Kahn was a Jew. All across Germany it was well known that the Jews were being rounded up and deported. This was all that had happened. Nothing to be excited about. However, Manfred remained uneasy. He had liked Professor Kahn. His last thought of Kahn as he left the group to return home that night was the look exchanged between him and Diana Landau a few years previously.

  -

  Manfred stood and watched the house from a distance. Workmen moved furniture from a lorry while other men arranged things inside. A man and a woman appeared. Both seemed to be about the same age as his own father and mother. Then a young girl appeared. She was about thirteen, perhaps older. Manfred smiled and thought about how she might look in a few years. Quite something, he concluded. Before he became too conspicuous, he decided to continue on his journey. It was also too cold to be standing still. Better to keep moving. Slowly, he felt some semblance of circulation return.

  The snow underfoot was beginning to turn icy and he made his way carefully along the footpath to avoid falling. As he walked home, he saw a car accident. There was ice on the road. A small lorry failed to stop in time and bumped lightly into the car in front. A few passers-by stopped to look.

  The man in the lorry got out. He was small, middle-aged and quite wiry. From the car a younger man got out. He was irate and began yelling at the lorry driver who held his hands up to apologise. The younger man was having nothing of it, though. He pushed the older man and then hit h
im. The lorry driver collapsed to the ground. The passers-by shouted at the younger man to stop and he began to remonstrate with them also. Then he heard screams.

  Manfred pulled the coat up around his neck and walked on.

  3

  January 1938

  The wood was covered in perfect white. The snow lay thick on the ground shining brightly in the morning sun. The shatter-brittle silence in the wood was broken by the delighted screams of young boys, at first a few and then many. All were bare-chested in the numbing cold yet delighted to be so. Their roars were a release, a yell of defiance against the elements. They would not submit. They would not be seen to acquiesce to its icy tendrils. Onwards they ran; every step a triumph of their will over themselves and Mother Nature.

  Manfred and Erich followed along behind the group. They were responsible for the village group. At this moment they were happy to trail behind. It always interested them when the parents of the children urged them to ‘tire the boys out’. It was a universal desire, it seemed to Manfred and Erich, that parents wished their children to be in a permanent state of exhaustion. The mystery was never explained to them. Their job was to follow orders.

  They reached the brook and the group stopped. It was a small clearing and the boys filled most of it. Erich leapt onto a log and shouted, ‘Jogging on the spot for one minute.’

  Almost as one body they did as they were ordered. Erich encouraged them, through insults and coaxing, to go faster and faster. For the next half hour, the two dozen boys were led through a series of exercises, finishing off with a particular favourite.

  ‘We’ll finish now with a competition,’ announced Erich. This brought a loud cheer from the boys. He reached into one of the two bags that he and Manfred had carried with them. From the bag he extracted a wooden club.

  ‘We are going to see who can throw the gren..., sorry, I mean club,’ this brought another loud cheer and Erich had to wave his arms to quieten them. ‘I mean, wooden club,’ shouted Erich over the noise.

  Manfred began to hand out the clubs. One by one the boys launched the clubs into an open space on the other side of the brook. Each new extension to the distance was greeted by cheers. Anyone falling short was met with good-natured abuse. At the end the boy who had won stepped forward to be met with acclaim from the rest of the group. Neither Manfred nor Erich, as the eldest at seventeen, participated.

  ‘What is your name?’ asked Manfred of the fourteen-year old boy who had stepped forward. He was obviously new.

  ‘Heinrich Mayer,’ responded the boy. Manfred shook his hand. The boy could barely be described so. He was as tall as Manfred and equally well made.

  ‘Congratulations, Heinrich, and welcome to our group.’

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ replied Heinrich.

  It was the first time anyone had called him sir. To the rest of the boys in the group he was just Manfred or Manny. He liked the sound of it.

  The three boys who had fallen shortest in the competition were delegated to go and collect the clubs, while the rest of the boys sang songs. When the three boys returned, Manfred shouted, ‘Right, boys, last one back to the hall is a rotten egg.’

  Cheers greeted this order and the boys tore off in the direction of the town. It was two miles away.

  -

  The meeting broke up an hour later and the boys went their separate ways. Manfred joined Heinrich as they were heading the same direction. The two boys chatted amiably, white vapour coming from their mouths, cloaking their faces. They trudged through the snow, both wearing their Hitler Youth uniforms, both saluting young boys who saw them.

  ‘That was an impressive throw back there. You’ve obviously had practice,’ observed Manfred.

  ‘Yes,’ replied Heinrich, ‘I was a member of a Hitler Youth group in Dortmund before we moved here.’

  ‘I imagine that was a bigger group,’ laughed Manfred, ‘We’re probably a bit small for you.’

  Heinrich shook his head, ‘No, I like it here. It’s very friendly. But yes, the other group was very large, and I certainly was nowhere near being the best at throwing. There were some very big boys in that group.’

  ‘What does your father do?’ asked Manfred.

  ‘He works for the government,’ answered Heinrich, after a moment of hesitation.

  Manfred noted the hesitation and did not ask anything more on the topic. Instead, he responded by saying that his father was the head of police. Heinrich looked at him and nodded. There was something in the look that was unaccountable to Manfred. It was almost as if Heinrich knew this. Any further thought of this was ended when they arrived at his new friend’s house. It was the same house once occupied by Professor Kahn. Heinrich saw the look of recognition when as they slowed down.

  ‘You knew the previous owner?’ asked Heinrich.

  Manfred was about to say yes when he changed his mind, replying instead, ‘I was passing a few days ago when I saw the lorry outside and the people moving furniture. I didn’t realise it was you.’

  The door to the house opened and a man in his early fifties stepped out. He was taller than Heinrich and very lean. His suit was clearly expensive, and he held himself with the confidence of authority. He smiled when he saw Heinrich.

  ‘You’ve finished.’

  ‘Yes, Father, this is Manfred. He’s the group leader.’

  ‘Hello, Herr Mayer,’ said Manfred.

  ‘’Hello, Manfred.’ He appraised Manfred for a moment and appeared to like what he saw. Manfred held the eye of the older man. They were of a similar height. The handshake was firm.

  ‘Are you still at school, young man?’

  ‘Yes, Herr Mayer, but I finish this summer.’

  ‘What will you do then?’

  Manfred hesitated a moment before saying, ‘My father and mother would like me to attend the university in Heidelberg.’

  The older man looked at him shrewdly and then said, ‘I sense this is not your wish.’

  ‘I wish only to please my family and make them proud,’ replied Manfred.

  Mayer nodded, ‘Good answer, young man. It is the duty of every son and daughter to make their family proud of them. I think you will.’

  ‘Thank you, Herr Mayer.’

  Manfred left them at this point and went back towards his house. He didn’t see from the upstairs window a face looking down and following him until he was out of sight.

  4

  September 1939

  Manfred sat in the dining room of the Mayer family. The only sound was the clink of cutlery on porcelain. It felt so much like his own home. The room was decorated sparsely. Heavy oak furniture supporting two large silver candelabra were about as far as the family stretched for ornamentation. There was a large picture; the only one in the room. It was of the Führer. This was, perhaps, the only difference noted by Manfred from his own house. The family also had a maid. Marita had been with the family for years according to Mayer. Centuries more like, thought Manfred.

  Manfred had become a frequent guest in the house over recent months as his friendship with Heinrich grew. Mayer was happy that his son had developed a group of friends that he approved of and encouraged Manfred in particular. There was something of the mentor in Manfred which he quickly recognised. The arrangement suited Manfred as well. It gave him a chance to get to know Heinrich’s sister Anja. With something approaching joy, he noted the arrangement seemed to be welcomed by Anja , too. Although she was fifteen, the age gap was immaterial. Manfred was prepared to play a longer game.

  The conversation around the table inevitably turned to the one topic upper-most in the minds of every family in the country.

  ‘They will declare war. Both France and Britain. They have to, or they are even more dissolute than I thought,’ declared Mayer as coffee was served.

  Frau Mayer and Anja looked at one another unhappily. Manfred noticed this and decided against becoming too ardent in favour of such an event. Fortunately, Heinrich was eager to declare his readiness.

 
; ‘I hope they do. We’ll show them. They couldn’t beat us last time, they won’t this.’

  This seemed to please his father, who smiled indulgently. Mayer turned to Manfred and asked, ‘What do you think, young man?’

  Manfred thought for a moment and said, ‘I hope they will see sense. The Führer does not seek war. He just wants what is rightfully ours.’ He looked Mayer in the eyes as he said this. The older man nodded but it was difficult to read if this was in approval. Manfred continued, ‘War will demand a high price of our country. I do not underestimate our enemies or their determination. But they shouldn’t make the mistake of underestimating us. If the time comes for war, they will find us ready. I will be ready.’

  Throughout, Manfred’s voice was soft, steady. Unlike Heinrich, there was neither stridency nor certainty as he spoke, just a quiet determination. When he finished, he glanced at Frau Mayer. Then he turned to Anja; her eyes were red. Finally, he looked at Mayer.

  From the drawing room he could hear the wireless playing music. Manfred recognised it as the prelude to ‘Lohingren’. There was purity in the melody, a nobility that made Manfred’s heart swell.

  Mayer continued to look at Manfred and then slowly he lifted his hand and held it out to the young man before him. They shook hands. Finally, he spoke.

  ‘Well said, young man. The future of Germany is safe, I know, because we have young men like you to carry the vision of our Führer forward.’

  Manfred looked at Mayer and realised something had been decided. He would tell his father that he was not going to the university. It was a conversation he had avoided for too long. The time spent with Mayer had shown him where his heart lay. Over the previous months Mayer had never asked him directly what he wanted to do but, in conversation and without words, Manfred had revealed himself all too clearly to the older man.