I reluctantly took my leave but before I left I went quickly to Jurgen and told him that I was interested in what he said and that I was sorry for the way Herr Lang had spoken to him.
“Thank you Ralf but don’t worry, I am used to it. Hopefully we will meet again soon. Have you heard of the Hitler-Jugend?”
I shook my head.
“You should find out more about it. There are quite a few branches in Berlin. Remember young people have a right to be heard.”
I was dying to find out more but mother was once again ordering me to my room. When I climbed into bed I began thinking of a world that lay beyond my experience, a world of excitement and mystery that I wanted to be part of. I craved a life like von Aschenbach’s, where anything was possible. Jurgen was right. We were young and old people had no right to insist that we should be like them. We wanted change and we demanded to be heard!
9.
Nuremberg, 1936
In 1933 the Französisches Gymnasium was closed by the new government and I transferred to the Goethe School with Herr Lang as my principal. This was a sad occasion, I had to say farewell to Herr Siegler but I liked the new school and was particularly pleased to see Aaron there. He became one of my closest friends. However our time together was short-lived. He graduated in 1935 and initially attended the Alice Salomon University of Applied Sciences but after the government fired all the Jewish lecturers and put pressure on Jewish students to leave, his family moved to Budapest and Aaron enrolled in Pázmány Péter University. He sent me letters from time to time but suddenly they stopped and I didn’t hear from him again.
I wasn’t too happy to see Otto Becker at my new school. Since the Sniper incident he hadn’t spoken to me nor had I retaliated. We just ignored each other and I made sure I sat as far away from him as possible. Imagine my surprise when one day he came up to me during lunch. I was discussing the forthcoming Hitler-Jugend march to Nuremburg with some boys in my class.
“Hello Ralf.”
“What do you want fat boy?” I replied?
That amused the others! There were plenty of guffaws and loud laughs! Otto though was not deterred.
“I wanted to ask you about the Hitler-Jugend. I know you are a member.”
My friends cheered and that irritated me.
“There’s an office in Ulandstrasse, but they won’t take you, you’re too fat and you don’t look Aryan.”
This was certainly true! He had thick black hair and looked Italian. In spite of that one of my friends, Reinhardt jumped to his defence.
“You are cruel Ralf. I think our Fuhrer wishes everybody to join the Hitler-Jugend. You can join in the school Otto.”
“Who do I have to see to join?” Otto enquired.
“Herr Farber in History”, someone else replied.
Otto left and I turned on Reinhardt.
“Why did you tell him that? I can’t stand him. He’s a fat slob with no manners who only messes around. I know him from elementary school. He’s no good.”
“It doesn’t matter”, Reinhardt replied. Joining the Hitler-Jugend will train him in discipline and obedience. So, what about this march?”
We assembled at the grave of Herbert Norkus in Plotzensee before marching to the bus station and travelling by coach to Leipzig where we joined other groups from around the country. Herbert had been murdered by Communists while distributing party leaflets and was a hero of our movement. From Leipzig we continued to Nuremburg walking the 270 kilometres in four days. I was so excited. This was my first time at a rally and I was only being allowed to go because mother was in Paris performing Carmen. After the rally she expected me to join her.
Our march from Leipzig was exhilarating. Led by Herr Farber we sang songs and cheered loudly as we passed through villages and towns. Our favourite song was Es zittern die morschen Knochen and we always sang with great fervour and devotion,
We will march on,
when everything has fallen to pieces;
Freedom stood up in Germany
and the world belongs to you tomorrow.
But my joyfulness was tempered by Otto who had joined our movement shortly after our conversation in the school. He had been permitted to attend the rally even though he had attended no meetings or classes. Our corps met on Monday of each week and we were instructed in National Socialist principles and doctrine. I knew the importance of marching to Nuremburg knew the significance of our rallies and understood the depth of feeling our Fuhrer had for Germany and our people. I learned about our Aryan philosophy and was introduced to works by Grimm, Miegel and Benn. I delighted in how they described the German people as the cleanest, most honest most efficient and most industrious people in Europe and how they proudly promoted our ancestral vitality. Herr Goebels had once said that the soul of the German people must express itself again. I knew they had burnt books in the early days and this disturbed me but I was told that anything that prevented expression of our national identity must be destroyed. I felt proud to be a part of it and excited to be at the forefront of something modern and contemporary. But Otto knew nothing of this, had read nothing and learned nothing. For him everything was an adventure, an opportunity to mess around with his new found friends, meet girls and feel important.
Bayreuth was one of our stops on the march to Nuremburg and it was there that I met Leni Himmel. She was with a BDM (Bund Deutscher Mädel) group from Potsdam. They were our female counterparts, The League of German Maidens. I should have known Leni before this as she attended the Berlinisches Gymnasium zum Grauen Kloster in Klosterstrabe. It was one of the most prestigious schools in Berlin and had many links to the Goethe Institute not least in debating. Encouraged by Herr Farber I had joined the debating group and had already competed twice against Leni’s school. She told me that she had visited my school during one of our matches. How had I never noticed her? She was beautiful with ideal Aryan features.
Our night in Bayreuth was special. Alcohol was officially prohibited but some of the older looking boys managed to procure a few bottles of Schnapps and we had a little party in one of the tents with Leni and two of her friends. Smoking was also prohibited but after two bottles we didn’t care and soon the tent was thick with tobacco fumes. Leni said that she didn’t like smoke and decided to return to her tent. Night had fallen and she asked me to accompany her. I agreed immediately. Not only was this an opportunity to spend some time alone with her, but I knew that if I hadn’t left I would have punched Otto, who was now extremely drunk and annoying everyone with his pinching and swearing.
The night was cool and we walked slowly among the tents trying to drag out our time together, speaking at first about the Hitler-Jugend and our calling by the Fuhrer before discussing the Olympic Games held earlier in the year. Leni had seen some film of the games at her local cinema and said she was disappointed that some of her sporting heroes especially Lilli Henoch and Gretel Bergman had been barred from competing. I agreed that was unfair, they were our best athletes but there must have been a reason.
“I was told they were banned because they were Jewish”, Leni remarked.
“I don’t think the Fuhrer would have sanctioned that”, I replied. “He is a great fan of sport and would have known that Henoch and Bergman were the best. No, there must have been another reason. Maybe it had nothing to do with us.”
“What do you mean?”
“Other countries may have objected.”
“Do you think so?”
We moved on to talking about music, literature and art. Leni admitted that she loved the impressionist paintings of Monet and Van Gogh though she knew that the Reich Culture Chamber viewed this art as degenerate. I suggested that we could still harbour some desire for the things of the past. I for one still loved the American songs of my mother’s parties and loved listening to her practicing her operatic arias. I told her about my love for Thomas Mann but we were in a new world now, a world which demanded order and the reality was that unless we rid ourselves of impurity and
subversion we would not survive.
I must have impressed her for she smiled tenderly then took my hand and placed it gently on her breast. I was instantly overcome by desire and leaned forward and kissed her firmly on the lips. She recoiled saying my breath reeked of smoke and alcohol. I was confused. She ran towards her tent and I followed without really knowing what I was supposed to do. We reached her tent and scrambled inside. She grabbed me and kissed me with an intensity I had not yet experienced. I could not resist her, could not resist her lips, her smell and her body.
In the morning I left Leni and returned to my comrades who were sitting around the campfire eating sausages and drinking coffee. Leni’s friends were still there and one of them, Helga seemed to have taken a shine to Otto. He looked so smug and triumphant as he sat with his arms draped over her shoulders relishing his conquest. I ignored him at first until he began taunting me. The ignorant fool yapped on about my night with Leni daring me to reveal details and asking me if she was any good. When I’d had enough I rushed at him, grabbed his greasy hair with one hand and punched his face with the other. Helga screamed as she was elbowed to one side. Otto tried to free himself so I pushed him down, sat on top of him and punched him again. He began whimpering. I turned to the others and shouted.
“This ignorant fucker is finished here!”
Later that day Otto returned to Berlin and we continued to Nuremburg. We were overwhelmed by the numbers attending. There must have been tens of thousands filling the cafes and restaurants. We could hear singing coming from the Bierkellers and everyone appeared joyful and pleasant. Leni attended a rally of the German’s Women League on Friday morning while our group engaged in physical exercise activity. We stood in regimented lines and followed our leader as he barked out instructions over the public address system. At times I was overcome with emotion watching the thousands of arms rising and falling in unison, the multitude of bodies all working in harmony. Later I met Leni for lunch. She described the Women’s rally, how they had sung, “Our Fate was to be a free People” and how their leader Frau Scholtz-Klink spoke about being part of a new revolution that was different from what had gone before. This time there was to be no bloodshed, no uproar.
“It was so stimulating Ralf. She gave us a whole history of the struggle of European women and called our fight against Communism a battle between Good and Evil. We are the Good because we understand and accept God’s order for the world and must oppose those who want to replace eternal laws.”
And then the Fuhrer spoke. I felt so privileged. I’ll never forget his opening words,
A person who is not joyful cannot sense joy. One needs optimism in order to live and it begins with children. It takes optimism to bring a child into the world! When a child is born, the mother receives it with joy. She worships this small creature.
“He called it a gift to the German nation. Oh how we applauded and cheered. I felt so proud to be a woman. And I felt safe Ralf. He told us that no woman would ever have to hold a grenade or raise a gun because our men would protect us. National Socialism, he said, would see to that.”
“What was he like?” I asked her?
“He was lovely Ralf. Smaller than I thought but he was a long way away.”
“I can’t wait to see him.”
I was falling in love with her; falling in love with her twinkling eyes, noticing how she wriggled her nose when she became excited, how she used her hands to emphasise what she said, almost swooning with desire when she ran her long fingers through her beautiful blonde hair and laughing at her giggles and sighs. Oh I wanted her so much and she me. After lunch we ran to her tent. We couldn’t keep our hands off each other.
My opportunity to see the Fuhrer came the next day when he addressed the Hitler-Jugend. What a sight! The speaking platform was full of our leaders all smiling and waving. Draped behind were huge banners displaying our party flag. The Fuhrer walked among us waving and giving the salute. He stopped occasionally to speak to the boys and as I was fortunate to be near the front I became nervous that he might stop and speak to me. As he drew near I was almost breathless. Then he stopped and offered me his hand. I think I grabbed it a little too firmly. He smiled warmly.
“My Fuhrer I am Ralf Hartmaan from Berlin, heil my Fuhrer!” I stammered.
“Welcome Ralf”, he replied, “you are a warrior of the Fatherland.”
“Yes my Fuhrer.”
“Good! We need soldiers like you.”
With that he moved on. I was dumbstruck. The boys either side nudged me with their elbows and someone behind patted my back. Everyone was grinning. The Fuhrer approached the platform. The atmosphere was electrifying.
My German Youth!
You have the good fortune of witnessing a time of both upheaval and greatness. That is a fate not bestowed upon all generations. When I think back on the youth of my own time and on the time of my own youth, it seems truly empty to me compared to what fills today’s time; what tasks today’s time is faced with, and what tasks are facing today’s youth. It is really wonderful to live in such an age and to be allowed to grow and mature in it. And this great good fortune is yours! You are not experiencing the reconstruction of a state, for you did not know the old Reich. You are experiencing the birth of a great age…
And so it seemed. How proud I was to be a part of this. How fortunate I was to be living now. This man had transformed our lives. He gave us such hope, such respect and he was right, I didn’t know anything about the old Reich and to be honest I didn’t really care. I was young and I wanted to live. I had no interest in soldiers dying in stinking trenches other than it must have been horrible for them. I knew that the youth of the last generation had perished in that war. That was not going to happen to me. I felt strong and purposeful and something else. I felt unique. He had touched my hand.
After the Rally we took the train back to Berlin and boys and girls were permitted to mix freely. I sat with Leni and enjoyed feeling her head on my shoulder as we chatted about the weekend.
“Will you still want to see me when we return”, she asked me?
“Of course”, I replied, “but you know I have to go to Paris tomorrow to meet my mother.”
“Yes, you told me. I wish I was going with you.”
I wished it too. I didn’t really want to listen to mother and her friends telling each other how wonderful they were but I did want to see Paris and experience its beauty, admire its buildings and marvel at the sights. It also meant a few days off school. That night I lay in bed unable to sleep, my head full of the weekend, the grandeur of the rally and my time with Leni. It was a perfect combination and I felt so happy to be alive. I wanted so much to have her lying beside me.
The following evening I caught the sleeper train to Paris. To pass the time I began reading a new book entitled Crusade towards the Grail by Otto Rahn. It fascinated me. Rahn had travelled to the South of France in search of the Holy Grail and unearthed information linking it to the Cathars, a medieval sect who were persecuted for their heretical beliefs. They guarded the Grail in their castle at Montsegur and when they were attacked by crusaders sent to destroy them, some managed to escape from Montsegur and hide the Grail in a local cave. Reichsfuhrer Himmler had sponsored Rahn to search for it but he was unable to find anything. As I read the story, I imagined myself as the intrepid adventurer fearlessly scouring the mountains and fighting off bandits until I found the cave that housed the Grail. I fought the forces of evil in one final battle before returning triumphantly to Berlin.
When I arrived at the Gard du Nord the next morning, mother was waiting with her friend Alex. She gave me her usual extravagant welcome fawning me with kisses and hugs and speaking much too loudly. She insisted on showing me around Paris immediately. We went straight from the station to the Eiffel Tower where we had photographs taken, followed by a dash to the Louvre for more photographs. I glimpsed the Mona Lisa in a tiny room crammed with tourists, was told how wonderful Monet was and suffered mother’s excessive
praise for Van Gogh. It may have been the journey but I was low on appreciation. It seemed the beauty of these paintings had been destroyed, hung on walls and surrounded by a thronging mass of people whose only purpose for visiting was to say they saw them.
Back in her apartment mother announced that I could have the night to myself as she and Alex had to perform in Carmen, but I could join them in La Coupole later. This was a trendy restaurant she and her fellow actors attended quite regularly. I told her I was tired and needed sleep. She left me some money and told me I could eat in a small restaurant a few doors up from the apartment. When she and Alex left I ran a bath. I wasn’t that impressed with the bath. It was old and stained but I used some of mother’s Rose bath salts so at least the water smelled nice. After the bath I went into the street and quickly found the restaurant. It was a pleasant enough place. I had Schnitzel and some wine. The owner Louis praised mother to the rafters and spoke about how he loved Berlin. After the meal I decided to go for a walk. The streets were narrow and I realised I could very easily become lost so I didn’t venture too far and was careful to memorize the route I was taking. Eventually I came upon a small square full of beech trees. I sat on a bench and immediately noticed how clean the square was, a sharp contrast to the streets that stank of sewage and were littered with empty boxes and rotting food. The buildings surrounding the square were quite old with some faded frescos and paint flaking from the walls. I noticed a man approaching me. He was having difficulty walking and used a stick. I recognised him immediately as a Jew probably a Rabbi. He looked exactly like the pictures Herr Farber showed us at our class. He had a whitish beard and wore a long black coat and a wide brimmed hat. As he passed me he bid me good evening. I stood up and even though I felt nervous and a little frightened I asked him if he needed any help.
No Light Page 8
