by Stan Mason
I collected Tania at eight o’clock that evening from her apartment. She was looking radiant in a stunning outfit, having embellished her natural beauty with a delicate application of expensive make-up, a modicum of alluring perfume, and an excellent hair-do which proved to be a masterful exhibition of tonsorial artistry. The ugly scene in her apartment was forgotten for the moment, even though she sported some nasty bruises about her body which I noticed during our intimacy in the draughty apartment that night. They didn’t seem to trouble her at all.
‘Where did you get to yesterday morning?’ she asked, with an amused expression in her eyes. ‘I looked all over the bed but I couldn’t find you.’
‘This early bird catches the worm,’ I related enigmatically. ‘Some of us have work to do, you know.’
‘In that case,’ she chided sweetly, ‘you shouldn’t spend so much time at play.’
We continued to banter conversation until I hailed a taxi which took us to the appointed place. This time it wasn’t the Assembly Hall in the East End of London but a large private house in Islington. In the past, the property had been owned by a wealthy doctor who had maintained servants and domestic help. Later, I learned that when he sold it a nominee had been entered in the deeds of the property for the purpose of anonymity.
We walked through the portals, which comprised a number of Corinthian columns supporting a balcony, to arrive at a large open door guarded by three bully-boys. Hesitantly, I mentioned we were guests of Conrad Hayle and a scrutineer examined a guest list carefully before marking crosses against our names. Then the path cleared and we walked the length of the massive hallway before being ushers into a large crowded room furnished with tables laden with victuals. A number of people were wearing the black uniform I had seen before, with fulgurously-designed armbands, and jackboots. The rest wore formal or informal clothing. They tended to congregate in groups of six to eight people, talking to each other seriously, and drinking well in an attempt to capture some kind of fraternal spirit. Tania and I hovered in the background where we were handed cocktails, and we stared at the groups in isolation feeling totally out of touch with the situation. Neither of us knew anyone in the room and there was the likelihood we would spend the time by ourselves without make any contact whatsoever. It would be just my luck to end the evening exactly where I had started... without a lead... without making any progress at all! My conclusion was reinforced by the fact that Tania and I were total strangers. We stood uncomfortably at the back like two lepers in society, sipping our cocktails slowly without a hope of penetrating any one of the groups in the room. We smiled at each other weakly, aware of our predicament, and continued to regard our prospects as dim for some time. Then Conrad Hayle espied us from a distance and left one of the groups. He approached with a broad smile on his face.
‘I’m so glad you could come, Mr. Savage,’ he greeted amiably. ‘Let me introduce you to some of our colleagues!’
He took my arm and led me to a group which included Harry Kirk. Tania followed and we listened to a flawed discourse on national socialism expounded by an extremely young man in a black uniform. Suddenly, I realised this was the moment I’d been waiting for... my chance had come even though I was totally unprepared to take advantage of it. I felt like an actor who hadn’t learned his lines, finding himself thrust on to the stage as the curtains opened for the first act, to face a large hostile audience.
‘I don’t agree with you!’ I blurted out, to the astonishment of the other members of the group... and also to myself! ‘You seem to bear the false impression that national socialism has developed to a degree far beyond its original concepts.’ I hesitated to gain everyone’s full attention. ‘Never forget that the basis of our ideals don’t emerge from a corruption of the doctrines fundamental to our national background, because change is not necessarily infinite. If you gnaw at the edges of specific tenets without question, one or more different trends will occur to alter the earlier patterns beyond recognition, until you create a monster totally unfit for any purpose. It’s essential to revert to the original ideas through Fichte, Hegel, Nietzsche and Spengler. Otherwise, you’re talking through your hat and, in addition, destroying the natural development of our cause.’
They were all staring intently at me by now, including some members of other groups who started to join us. I was uncertain whether my outburst made me look a fool or a rebel, but the research I had conducted that very morning was beginning to focus in my brain, enabling me to churn out tracts of texts, none of which really interested me. The important thing was for myself to believe what I was saying... even if it was only for the moment!
‘This is Mr. Savage, a banker,’ announced Hayle, introducing me to the enlarging circle. ‘He’s one of our latest recruits who delivered a short speech on his initiation which impressed us all. I had no idea he knew anything about national socialism.’
I decided it was time to play one of my highest trumps, particularly because Kirk was listening. ‘My real name is Erdbeer,’ I declared.
‘Erdbeer?’ laughed a man in a plain tweed suit, before the others followed with mirth. Perhaps I shouldn’t have been surprised they all spoke German.
‘Yes, Erdbeer,’ I repeated. ‘It means strawberry. I’m not quite sure of the derivation. Some people consider it may have come from a strawberry fool, but no one knows. I certainly don’t feel a fool... or a strawberry.’
There was laughter all round at my amusing comment after which Kirk eyed me from head to toe. ‘A banker... of German stock, eh?’ he began. ‘Why don’t you tell us more about your views on national socialism?’
This was the big chance I had been waiting for. It was important for me to focus all the attention within my power on an oration of some magnitude. If I failed, Ted Flanders would flay me alive for missing the opportunity. I thought of him at that moment as an irritable chimpanzee waving his arms wildly and leaping about, babbling foul language if I came to a halt in this assignment. It was sufficient to goad me into doing my very best and I stepped into the limelight. ‘Well, as everyone knows, national socialism became a profoundly revolutionary movement, although it happened mostly in a negative sense. It’s now a matter of historical record to define it rejected rationalism, the rule of law, and human rights. In effect, the replacement of such elementary features of weak government included the encouragement of instinct, arbitrary authority, and subordination of the individual to the State. Most people who define themselves as democrats are appalled at these facets of rule mainly because they themselves develop traits of self-indulgence which detracts from a cohesion of effort within the State. Democracy creates egoistic casual attitudes, laziness, waste and anti-State aggression!’ I stopped for effect... and breath... and began to remonstrate strongly with my arms to give my words more emphasis. It was also the way their Fuehrer acted in the 1930s and 1940s. ‘National socialism seeks to purge competing political, religious and social institutions which drive a stake through the heart of a nation. It’s often also necessary to suppress them. The singular purpose of the common man is spread in a variety of directions causing division and segregation by random person choice. Such actions erode the will of mankind in general as we have seen so often in the past. Which one of you hasn’t been pressed by several political organisations, each of which has developed its own brand or style to inflict on an unsuspecting and trusting public? The usual harassment at General Elections! A few years later, other parties become elected to change those policies to the detriment of the State, and this chaos continues indefinitely. Which of you hasn’t been sought out by specific religious bodies, each one claiming a new dawn or a different path to heaven? In all truth, what value are such people or religious organisations to our society at large? No my friends, the doctrine of national socialism rejected Christian and humanitarian ethics quite rightly because they were regarded as inhibitive to State rule. In their place, an ethic of reality was advanced, to
show meaning to our existence in a world deteriorating all around us. It destroyed distinctions between social class, drawing in people from all social classes. And why not? National socialism has a true value in offering every person a chance to establish themselves within our midst. Certainly it’s revolutionary in its methods of coercion and mass manipulation. Every army is governed by its leader... not from its ranks. And why shouldn’t it use propaganda through all cultural and information media?’
The young man in the black uniform clearly felt aggrieved at my challenge, and he made a brave attempt to save his face, intending to do so to the point of self-destruction. ‘I disagree,’ he countered, embittered that his thunder had been stolen by a stranger in formal clothing. ‘The underside of propaganda was its apparatus in terror, administered by secret police...... .... . .’
I allowed my temper to flare quickly and interrupted him, raising my voice for all to hear. ‘How dare you challenge the wonderful regime supported not only by my grandfather, by the German nation as a whole, and by the glorious Third Reich! Have you not seen the record of our people on film, and the way they were dedicated to our dearly-beloved Fuehrer? Are you the kind of person who disregards the lessons taught to us by our masters, or is your ambition so high you consider you are better?’ I was taking a big chance throwing all my weight behind the idea that these people intended to emulate their predecessors... the hierarchy and the officers of the Third Reich. If I was wrong, the house would fall in on me and my fate would hang in the balance. In the meantime, I rested on the horns of a dilemma. I had thoroughly enjoyed the role of demolishing the argument of the young man, much to his displeasure, noting that the crowd about me now comprised every person in the room. They all wanted to hear what I had to say. I turned to Hayle in disgust. ‘Who is this man?’ I demanded angrily. ‘Why is he allowed to preach subversion contrary to our cause? If he took the time to understand the essence of national socialism, then all of us would be that much richer!’
‘Who was your grandfather?’ asked Harry Kirk, trying to dampen enthusiasm at my rousing diatribe.
‘Heinz Erdbeer, a proud member of the Schutzstaffel... the SS. The elite corps of the Nazi party with immense police and military powers.’
‘Yes, yes, I know all about the SS,’ replied Kirk softly. ‘What rank did he hold?’ He lifted a bottle from the table behind him and filled my glass from the contents, although his eyes never seemed to leave mine.
The room fell silent as I paused to reflect an answer. ‘Colonel Heinz Erdbeer,’ I repeated proudly, clicking my heels together in true Prussian style.
Kirk returned the bottle to the table and turned back to me filled with suspicion. ‘A Colonel, eh?’ he said, almost in a whisper. ‘An eminent rank indeed. No wonder you’re so proud. You know of course that the SS were schooled in racial hatred and admonished to harden their hearts to human suffering. Do you have any idea of their chief virtue and their motto?’
His question was directed to find me out. If I failed to answer correctly my reputation would turn to dust. At the very best, the others would tend to regard me as a promotion hunter... someone with a silver tongue and little else to offer. Inwardly, I prayed my research that morning had been accurate. During the next ten seconds I would live or die by the information I had gleaned. ‘The chief virtue of the SS was their absolute obedience and loyalty to the Fuehrer who gave them their motto: “Thy Honour Is Loyalty!”
‘Which Section of the SS did your grandfather command?’ Kirk did not intend to give up easily.
By this time I realised I had dug a pit for myself and I was sinking deeper and deeper into it each moment. There was no end of questions he could ask me to challenge my validity. I was walking the tight-rope because my knowledge of the SS was relatively shallow. It was essential to draw on memory as hard as possible. ‘At first, he was in the Allgemeine SS dealing with foreign intelligence and espionage. Then he was transferred to the Waffen SS to command a division in the Verfugunstruppe... the Disposition Troops... serving alongside the regular army. They had a reputation of being fanatical fighters.’
‘Did he survive the war?’
I knew it was impossible to answer affirmatively, for that would lead to a whole series of new questions which would finally sink me. ‘Sadly, he was killed defending Berlin from the enemies of the Third Reich.’ That answer would have to suffice. I wasn’t going to be drawn any further into the game and paused to take a sip from my glass. ‘But surely we’re here to discuss the campaign. I’ve been guilty of boring you with my idle talk for far too long!’
‘Not at all,’ replied Kirk, seeking the attention of all the guests. ‘Damen und Herren! I think we owe a debt of gratitude to our new colleague, Mr. Savage... Herr Erdbeer... who has shown us, in just a few words, how our thoughts should be aligned. Too often we forget the true nature of the old ideals which could easily have encompassed Europe in a relatively short space of time... and then the world. But it’s of no consequence, because we have learned much from previous errors to establish our own plan of campaign. We are practically guaranteed success over a period of time to win Europe by peace instead of war, and I’m personally grateful to Herr Erdbeer for imprinting on our minds the need to conduct our lives by instinct and subordination of the individual to the State. We have to bring good order to society and some of you will be aware of the formation once again of the Geheime Staatspolizei... the Gestapo!’
I froze where I stood, recalling the text I had read that morning about the Gestapo. It was a section of the SS which ruthlessly eliminated all opposition to the Nazis in Germany and its occupied territories. The agency operated without civil restraint, with the authority of preventative arrest, and its actions were never subject to judicial appeal... similar to the case of Albert Henley. Thousands of leftists, intellectuals, Jews, trade unionists, political clergy and homosexuals simply disappeared from society, most of them turning up in concentration camps. But most horrific of all... the Gestapo had mobile killing squads, and they laid claim to their victims without conscience! I began to cringe inside. To any outsider I was as evil as the men and women I intended to expose. Instead, this quirk of circumstance had turned me into a hero and, before I knew what was happening, everyone had raised their glasses in a toast to my good health. Everyone, that is, except the young man in the uniform whom I had defeated. He stared at me with half-closed eyes as though he could cheerfully strangle the life from my body. I had made a true enemy within!
After Kirk’s simple speech, the gathering broke up into smaller groups again. I looked at Tania and shrugged, wishing I could tell her the truth about me, but I couldn’t take a risk of that magnitude.
‘So your grandfather was German,’ she said, allowing me to notice an icy tone in her voice. ‘Colonel Heinz Erdbeer.’
‘A person can choose his friends but not his relatives,’ I responded. ‘The trouble is that the legend follows. I could never live up to his reputation.’
She let the matter drop and I sought a reason for her quietness from that moment on. Perhaps she felt inadequate in the presence of all the people at the party, or she had reason to dislike me knowing I was of German descent... which I wasn’t! I had no idea what she was thinking and alerted myself to the fact that she had willingly allowed herself to be recruited to International Three Thousand. She either supported the cause or had joined it for some other purpose.
It was nearly two hours later when the party began to fold. Many guests started to leave and the number of people in the room reduced substantially. I looked at Tania as if to enquire whether she wanted to go and she took my arm readily. We offered our farewell and walked to the door to find ourselves confronted by Hayle and Kirk. They both wore serious expressions on their faces.
‘You never fail to surprise me, Herr Erdbeer,’ began Hayle.
His words sent terror through my heart for I believed he was now going to u
ncover me as an infiltrator. ‘I had no intention of causing you embarrassment, Herr Hayle,’ I replied, waiting for the axe to fall.
‘On the contrary,’ he smiled. ‘I meant surprise... not embarrassment. I’m proud to have recommended you personally.’
‘Tell me, Erdbeer,’ intervened Kirk. ‘Which bank are you with... and what’s your position there?’
Hayle was a tough character but Himmler’s grandson was much harsher, and far more direct in his attitude. The game was to be played with full effect now! ‘I’m the senior executive in Demby Banking Corporation. It’s a private bank with a branch in Switzerland.’ Fortunately, I had sufficient nous to prepare myself before the party search at Companies House would corroborate my statement, albeit no financial details would be revealed... because none existed.
Kirk examined the business card carefully. ‘You may be assured we shall check out all the facts,’ he told me, almost reading my thoughts. ‘You see, we search very hard for people like yourself... those able to command respect, dedicated their thoughts to the movement, and who show an aptitude for leadership. If everything’s in order, we may be able to find a well-appointed position for you in our new society. Would that be in accordance with your own wishes?’
I pretended it was a thought which had never cross my mind and paused for a few moments wearing a doubtful expression on my face. ‘This is all rather sudden,’ I replied. ‘But I’m sure I’ll be able to reconcile with it in due course.’
