Men of Snow

by John R Burns

  With the rattle of the lock it was Schultz who glanced through the opening crack in the doorway before he let Franz in.

  In the room there was a double bed, a washstand and a set of drawers with a curved mirror.

  ‘You came,’ was all Schultz could say as he stepped back against the bed.

  ‘I said I would.’

  ‘This is such a mess.’

  ‘Yes,’ Franz agreed.

  ‘I just can’t believe you’re doing this, doing this for me.’

  ‘I’ve done nothing.’

  Schultz’s face squeezed up in doubt, ‘You’ve saved me.’

  ‘And you exaggerate.’

  ‘I wished I did.’

  ‘Here is some food,’ Franz mentioned as he put the knapsack on the bed, ‘And a change of clothing, and this,’ he added as he took an envelope out of his jacket pocket.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘It’s money, enough money for the ticket.’

  Schultz hesitated.

  ‘Take it. Otherwise you’ll never get out of this place.’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Don’t be stupid. Here,’ Franz persisted.

  For a few moments Schultz studied the envelope he had taken.

  ‘You...you don’t know what this is like. Why should you? I’ve....I’ve always failed. Everything I’ve tried, everything I’ve wanted. I should never have been accepted. I don’t know how I managed it. I....I was sure I would never get in. Me...me training to be an officer in the army of the Third Reich. It sounds ridiculous. It is ridiculous.’

  He sat on the edge of the bed as Franz smelt the dampness in the room overlaid with polish, reminding him of his old schoolroom.

  ‘You know the time of the train?’

  ‘They would have killed me,’ Schultz muttered back.

  There was the sound of more voices out in the street and the noise of a train’s wheels skidding on the tracks near the town’s railway station.

  ‘The timetable,’ Franz said.

  ‘I don’t understand why you are doing this, but I have to thank you, to thank you Brucker.’

  ‘You get there so you don’t have to wait on the platform for too long.’

  ‘Will they find out?’

  ‘I don’t know. No. I don’t see why they should.’

  ‘I was trying Brucker. I was really trying.’

  ‘It’s too late for that now.’

  ‘Now....now I don’t know what’s going to happen. There’s going to be a war and what will I do?’

  ‘Just make sure you catch that train,’ Franz said strongly before he turned to the door.

  ‘I....I might....might see you...sometime,’ Schultz tried.

  Out on the landing Franz waited after closing the door. The radio was still playing dance music upstairs, but something was different. He glanced over the banister to see the landlady waiting at the bottom of the stairs.

  ‘Not staying long tonight?’ Mrs Hoffner asked as Franz came down.

  ‘My brother has a headache.’

  ‘Should I get him a glass of water or something?’

  Franz looked at her, ‘No. I’m sure he’ll manage. He just wants an early night.’

  Mrs Hoffner said in an exaggeratedly concerned voice, ‘Of course. We won’t disturb him then. So he’s expecting nobody else tonight?’ she added.

  ‘No. He won’t be expecting anybody else.’

  ‘You’ve been his only visitor.’

  ‘He is only here to see me.’

  ‘His brother.’

  ‘Yes,’ Franz said.

  Mrs Hoffner half smiled as she asked, ‘Will you be visiting him tomorrow?’

  ‘Not sure yet.’

  ‘Well, we’ll all be still here if you do.’

  ‘Yes. Goodnight,’ Franz said as she opened the front door for him and watched him go down the steps of the house onto the pavement.

  ‘Goodnight,’ Mrs Hoffner called as he started off down the street.

  -------------------------------------------------------------------------

  Everything in the school, the officers, the sergeants, the recruits, the training, became more intense over the next weeks. There was an obvious mood of change, an obvious deepening of commitment by everybody. Franz felt it as though it was a hand tightening round him, squeezing him into a new, more defined shape.

  ‘Can you imagine the French if we went West first? They would wet themselves,’ Steiner joked the next time they had a pass into town and had gone to a different inn than usual.

  ‘So why did we come here?’ Franz asked before he lit a cigarette, looking around at the empty tables and the few standing at the bar.

  ‘To avoid Frumm and Meissner and that crowd.’

  ‘What’s wrong with them?’

  Steiner looked at him, ‘You know as well as I do what’s wrong with them. They’re primitive. They haven’t a brain between them.’

  ‘And I suppose we have?’

  Steiner smiled, ‘Of course.’

  ‘According to you.’

  ‘And you.’

  ‘You sound very sure that you know my opinion about things.’

  ‘I do. I’m certain I do.’

  Franz puffed out smoke, the tension in his voice, ‘And what if I preferred the company of the others?’

  Steiner pulled a doubtful expression and then waited before he said, ‘But you don’t and I’m glad. I’m glad you agreed to come here because I started to think you were trying to avoid me. It would have been understandable Franz. I just don’t want you to think there is any reason why we can’t get on.’

  ‘Why should there be?’

  ‘Because I know something about you that none of the others do. I know what you experienced. It was a situation you could have done nothing about. In some ways it still is. You have to try and organise yourself differently now, ever since it happened. It was a stray shell. It should not have happened.’

  ‘No it wasn’t,’ Franz said, ‘They thought everybody was out of the area. I shouldn’t have been there.’

  ‘Well neither should I then.’

  Franz glanced at him, ‘No. You shouldn’t.’

  ‘And you get almost blown to bits and all I did was watched it happen.’

  ‘You didn’t just watch.’

  ‘I just wanted to clear the air between us. Mind you in a place like this I’m not sure if it’s possible.’

  ‘You’re always very confident,’ Franz mentioned, watching the way Steiner’s mouth tightened as he thought how to respond.

  ‘My God, in our school you have to be or they’d have you in pieces. Imagine Strauss and his bunch of uglies if they thought they’d found a weakness.’

  ‘So you don’t have any, is that what you’re saying?’

  ‘Depends what you think of as a weakness.’

  ‘So do I have to guess?’

  ‘I thought you already had.’

  At that Franz sat back in his chair watching a convoy of military trucks pass by the window.

  ‘I just wish the whole thing would start,’ he finally said.

  Steiner smiled, ‘You should not be so impatient.’

  ‘Everything feels ready.’

  ‘We have another year of training yet.’

  ‘But I feel we’re ready.’

  ‘To lead?’

  ‘Yes, to lead, to take responsibility, to be somebody others will follow. I know I’ve missed some of it but I still know that I would be able to do it, all of it.’

  ‘But who is there to fight now the Ruskies are out of the picture? The Dutch, the French, the Greeks, the Poles? My granny could beat that lot. It would be too easy, far too easy.’

  ‘But we are trained for war.’

  ‘Oh don’t worry,’ Steiner agreed, ‘We’ll be going to war alright. Our Fuhrer knows only one language and it’s not one of appeasement.’

  ‘You haven’t much time for the Nazis, the SS, have you?’

  In a quieter voice Steiner said,
‘They’ve brought the country together. They’ve made us strong again, but whether they have any real substance, I’m not sure. The army will go along with them so far and then take over if necessary, which I think it will be. There,’ he sighed, ‘you could have me arrested for expressing such things.’

  ‘Do you want another drink?’ Franz asked.

  ‘After you agree we have come this evening to an understanding.’

  ‘And what would that be?’

  ‘Well if you have to ask we obviously haven’t.’

  Franz got up and went over to the bar. When he came back they sat drinking their beers.

  Steiner lit another cigarette and finally asked whether they should leave.

  ‘And go where?’ Franz wanted to know.

  ‘No idea.’

  ‘Then I don’t see the point.’

  ‘Oh don’t worry about that,’ Steiner smiled, ‘I firmly believe there’s a point to everything. Everything has a reason. Like the two of us sitting here.’

  ‘Yes,’ was all Franz could manage.

  ‘So if I want to go now, is that alright?’

  ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘Good,’ Steiner said firmly before stubbing his cigarette out.

  Outside it was a warm summer’s night. Swastika flags on each lamppost along the street ruffled in the breeze.

  ‘You’ve never mentioned a girlfriend,’ Steiner said, their boots sounding out on the cobbles.

  ‘Why, have you got one?’ was Franz’s quick response.

  ‘No. I haven’t.’

  ‘Neither have I.’

  Beside the trees lining the road that ran from the town to the military school Steiner stopped. The shadows of branches moved over his darkened shape.

  Franz carried on for a moment and then turned round.

  ‘I just want to know if it hurts,’ Steiner said.

  ‘What?’

  Steiner stepped towards him, ‘This of course,’ was his answer as he lightly traced his fingers along the scars, down Franz’s cheek and throat.

  ‘I don’t feel a thing.’

  ‘I’m sure that’s not true.’

  ‘It’s completely numb.’

  ‘That’s not true,’ Steiner said.

  ‘And how the hell would you know?’

  ‘Instinct.’

  Steiner lowered his hand.

  ‘We’d better go,’ Franz tried.

  ‘Of course,’ Steiner agreed, ‘It’s such a pity,’ he added before touching along the scar again, ‘Such a pity.’

  Franz stood and closed his eyes momentarily.

  ‘There,’ Steiner said, ‘there, there.’

  The school’s buildings could be seen from a mile away, a huge construction of castellated towers and lighted windows like a huge cliff against the approaching darkness.

  ‘When do you expect a weekend pass?’ was Steiner’s question as they came towards the gates.

  ‘I think in the next weeks.’

  ‘And will you go home?’

  ‘No. No I won’t go home,’ Franz answered.

  CHAPTER 4

  __________________________________________________________________________________

  Over the next days there were glimpses, moments when Franz was aware of watching Steiner more than usual as everything to do with the school became more intense. Everything was louder, harder. The sergeant majors were often furious on parade with the least example of a mistake. Increasingly their lecture periods concentrated on command structures, battle strategies, methods of communication in different situations. Morning bell was earlier so the recruits could be given an extra half hour PE session. At night assemblies lasted longer as the commander lectured them about German history and how their training was essential to the nation’s development, told them more about the main European countries’ capabilities, again went through the failures and reasons for the Treaty of Versailles, told them the psychology necessary to become a successful officer. All of this was in the commander’s tone of exasperation. As the weeks past his talks became more impatient. Several times a week there would be military cars coming up the school’s extensive driveway to park outside the commander’s house.

  ‘You are in control. You are the means to pass on orders from your commanding officer to the troops you have responsibility for. You never question such commands. Only when you are sure that all lines of communication have been severed do you take charge, do you make your own decisions. This gentlemen should be a rare occurrence. We are here to produce men who can think independently only when that is absolutely necessary.’

  Franz would watch Steiner in the showers, getting dressed, at meal times, in the assembly hall and especially when he was preparing for bed. He watched every detail of Steiner’s way of doing things. At night he would always follow the same routine. First he would unbutton his uniform and take his combat jacket off. Then he would sit on the edge of his bed to untie his boots. If they were, as was often the case, covered in mud, he would set them down on sheets of newspaper. He would pull off his socks and stuff them in the end of his boots. Franz would watch him unbutton his shirt and lay it on top of his jacket on the chair next to his bed. He used both hands to pull his vest over his head. His body was thin but muscular. When he stretched to take off his vest the shape of his rib cage was pushed out, pulling his pale skin taught. His night shirt was folded in one of the drawers of his metal cabinet. When he had pulled that on he would lift it up at the front so he could unbutton his combat trousers and pull them down with his pants that he would then step out of and fold them with the rest of his clothes on the bed side chair.

  In the morning everything was in reverse. Steiner’s dark brown hair would be flopping over his eyes when he pulled back the bed clothes. He would sit, yawn, rub his face and glance around the room. Before anything else he would clean and polish his boots. Frumm and Meissner would be still trying to rouse themselves as Steiner made his way off to the washroom. Franz could smell him pass by his bed, watching the toes of his bare feet splay slightly on the linoleum floor of their small dormitory room.

  ‘You will command your men to attack, to kill in any way they can. It might be you will have to kill civilians as collaborators, spies, hostages, anything that is necessary. There is no morality to war other than that demanded by those who are victorious.’

  -----------------------------------------------------------------------

  ‘What do you think happened to Schultz?’ was Frumm’s question as they were preparing for sleep one night after being on the assault course for most of the day?

  ‘No idea,’ Franz quickly responded.

  ‘He should never have been here,’ was Meissner’s opinion.

  ‘At least he was willing to try,’ Steiner added.

  ‘He was certainly trying alright,’ said Frumm, ‘Schultz was just a mummy’s boy.’

  Meissner stretched, yawned as he spoke, ‘He was a bum fucker.’

  ‘There was never any evidence of that,’ Steiner argued.

  ‘Strauss and his second year gang don’t need evidence. The merest suspicion, that’s all they require.’

  ‘So why did we not have the same suspicions?’ Steiner asked Frumm.

  ‘Maybe it takes one to find one,’ was from Meissner.

  Franz was inspecting his boots as he said, ‘So go and tell that to Strauss. I’m sure he would appreciate your comments.’

  ‘Fuck off Brucker.’

  ‘No, I don’t think I will.’

  ‘So stop sounding so smart because you aren’t.’

  At that the lights out bell sounded which brought on a gradual quiet along the dormitory corridor. Franz glanced over at Steiner who was pulling the sheet up to his chin. Every sound he made was accentuated as though Franz could hear the sheet moving and folding and being stretched again.

  For a few moments he considered the other two sharing the room. Frumm was always sarcastic, as though everything was there to be defied. With that attitude Franz
wondered how he would cope with implicitly obeying orders when it came to the real thing.

  Meissner who had taken Schultz’s bed was more obscure. There was something limited and hidden about him. When he was in a group he was always looking from one to another as if to ensure that what he was saying was acceptable. Franz tried to imagine him leading his troops into battle when there was nobody else on whom he could depend.

  -----------------------------------------------------------------

  ‘He doesn’t like punishing you,’ Franz remembered his mother once telling him, ‘He just feels, we all feel that sometimes it is necessary.’

  He asked why she was telling him this.

  ‘Because you’re growing up.’

  He told her he was always growing up.

  ‘But so quickly Franz, soon.....soon you won’t be with us. We are just proud of you, your father, your grandmother and auntie and me. We are proud of who you are turning out to be. There might be something go wrong and then.....then.’

  ‘My father has to punish me.’

  ‘For your own good.’

  ‘No mother, for his good.’

  ‘Your uncle Gerhard was a great man, a hero.’

  ‘And that’s what you want me to be?’

  ‘It was only circumstance that gave him the opportunity.’

  ‘To die.’

  ‘To die heroically.’

  ‘So you would wish that for me.’

  Mother’s face had flushed slightly,’ Of course not. You’re our child for goodness sake.’

  ‘All I hear is how I have to respect my father even though it was his generation who betrayed the fatherland, not motherland, fatherland.’

  ------------------------------------------------------------------

  ‘The cook has definitely left us,’ said Frumm next morning in the noisy dining hall, ‘Whatever this is it is not like it used to be,’ he added as he spooned up a mouthful of porridge and then let it dribble back into his bowl.

  ‘Interviews today, so you’ll need it,’ Steiner mentioned.

  ‘What, so I can be sick before or afterwards?’

  Meissner belched and said, ‘So is this when we find out what our prospects are?’