Men of Snow

by John R Burns

  Finally he stopped like the others. The missing bar left a gap to the next that seemed impossible. He wanted to let go, to sink into the flames. His arms were stiffening, his grip loosening. Again there was Steiner’s image before he started back into motion, aware of the others watching, swinging himself backwards and forwards until he stretched out, suspended for an instant before his right hand smacked onto the next bar. Immediately he went for the next and again until it was over and he was laid out on the grass coughing with the fumes, turning over to try and cool the front of his body. He could smell the burnt hairs on his legs and feel his blistered feet.

  Nobody paid him any attention. They were already watching the next recruit.

  The first who had fallen into the flames was crouched nearby, still wrapped in a blanket, sobbing and coughing, the skin darkened in patches on his face.

  Later back in the dormitory Meissner was helping Frumm fold wet towels around his legs as Steiner lay on his bed saying nothing.

  ‘At least we managed,’ was Frumm’s comment.

  ‘The last tradition,’ Meissner added.

  Franz carefully sat on the edge of his bed glancing across at Steiner.

  ‘You’re still burning.’

  ‘So light a cigarette,’ Frumm muttered back at Steiner’s remark.

  ‘As if that would make any difference.’

  ‘So shut up.’

  ‘Of course,’ Steiner sighed.

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

  The canteen next morning was half empty. There were no officers at the high table. Outside there was a convoy of trucks into which anything that could be used from the school was being taken. The whole building was full of the sounds of everybody preparing to leave. The previous night was already subsumed under this wave of activity that echoed down the corridors and out over the parade ground where a new and much larger swastika flag had been raised earlier that morning.

  ‘I know you’re not going home,’ Steiner mentioned, glancing across the canteen table at Franz, ‘So I’ve booked us a meal tonight at the AK hotel. It might be the last good food we come across in a long time.’

  There was nobody else at their table. Frumm and Meissner from their dorm had already left on their two day passes.

  ‘And what are you going to do?’

  ‘Prepare for war,’ Steiner joked.

  ‘Yes. I suppose that’s all there is now.’

  ‘What, preparing for war?’

  Franz forced a smile, ‘No. No. I meant having a meal tonight.’

  ‘Well it has to be better than last night.’

  ‘They just took their chance,’ Franz said.

  ‘So tonight is alright?’

  ‘Yes,’ he answered as recruits started leaving the hall, ready to pack up the last of their equipment and be given instructions on their new regiments and what the transport plans were going to be.

  That evening they strolled into town in their civilian shirts, slacks and sleeveless jumpers. The streets were busy with people out in the warm summer evening air, sitting outside the cafes in the central square.

  The AK hotel was on one of the corners of the square, its balconies full of bright flowered window boxes.

  ‘We might as well just go straight in unless you want a drink somewhere,’ was Steiner’s suggestion.

  ‘No. That’s fine. I’m hungry,’ Franz answered, noticing a few other recruits crossing the square, looking odd in their civilian clothes.

  The hotel’s restaurant was shuttered against the evening light. They were shown to the last empty table before ordering their drinks.

  ‘Maybe we should have ordered something different, our last chance.’

  ‘Well I’m hoping at some point we are in Paris. Then it will be drinking all the champagne there is,’ Steiner answered.

  ‘You think that’s possible?’

  ‘I should think it’s certain. Our Fuhrer’s outrageous deal with the Russians is to have nothing to worry about when we finally turn west. Poland is just the bait.’

  For a moment Franz again experienced the sudden sense of the coming war, a cold, formless sense where there were no sounds. All the rest, the armies, the fighting, the planes, the tanks were in complete silence like a mime which only he was watching.

  The waiter brought their beers.

  ‘Here’s to us and victory,’ Steiner laughed as he raised his glass.

  ‘And to all the medals we’ll receive.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘And promotions.’

  ‘Why not?’

  Through the restaurant’s open windows came the sound of a band starting up in the square.

  ‘You’d think it was all over already,’ Steiner continued, ‘we’re celebrating and it hasn’t got started yet.’

  ‘That’s because everybody is confident.’

  ‘So they should be.’

  ‘Not like last night.’

  Steiner paused and then said, ‘Strauss, Winkler, Hoffenbach. They all could be dead in a month. The rest of them were just the usual followers. It’s not worth thinking about.’

  ‘You made it look easy.’

  ‘Well so did you.’

  ‘I thought you’d gone.’

  ‘I watched.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I just wanted to see how you’d get on.’

  ‘I was scared.’

  ‘Understandably, that’s what they were doing.’

  ‘And you?’

  ‘Of course, I thought I was going to soil myself. Thank God I never gave those morons the pleasure.’

  They waited while their cutlery was set out and they ordered more beer.

  ‘I can’t imagine you being scared by that much,’ Franz eventually mentioned as he glanced across the busy restaurant.

  ‘You’d be surprised.’

  Then he turned back to look at him, ‘No. I don’t think I would.’

  ‘That’s because we hardly know each other.’

  ‘So what else makes you scared?’

  ‘Lots of things. I fear dying too soon.’

  ‘When is too soon?’

  Steiner sipped at his beer.

  ‘I suppose it’ll always be too soon. I just find it difficult to imagine that at some point in the future medical science will have advanced so far that death will become only an option. It will be no longer inevitable. I think at some time in the future people will manage to defeat death in many ways, but us, we’ll miss out. It will become a matter of choice but not in our lifetime.’

  Franz stared at him.

  ‘I know for somebody who is about to go to war it is....well I suppose it is unexpected.’

  ‘We’ll be in the same regiment,’ was all Franz could think to say.

  Steiner answered lightly, ‘It’s alright. I’m not a coward.’

  ‘I wasn’t thinking that. I was just wondering what the point of wars would be if nobody was killed, if death was, as you say, avoidable. ‘

  ‘The threat would dissolve.’

  ‘But if there was no escape from pain and mutilation maybe the threat of war would be even greater. You don’t die. You just suffer.’

  ‘Sounds worse.’

  ‘Because,’ Franz went on, ‘it’s likely we’d still be in the caves without the pressure that death produces. That pressure is the source of the creative process. I think it was Nietzsche who said we have to be affected. Without that our species would not survive.’

  Steiner looked at him, oblivious to the sounds of the restaurant.

  ‘I can never tell when you’re being serious,’ was finally his remark.

  ‘That’s because you know nothing about me.’

  ‘But I think I do.’

  ‘Well that’s your problem.’

  ‘It’s not a problem Franz. It’s the complete opposite.’

  They waited then while their meal was put down before them.

  ‘Looks good,’ Steiner commented to the waiter. />
  ‘Thank you sir, I hope you enjoy the veal.’

  ‘We will.’

  ‘Yes,’ was Franz’s empty agreement.

  For a few minutes they concentrated on the food.

  ‘So, what about you, what about your worst fear?’ Steiner finally asked.

  Franz thought for a moment.

  ‘I suppose it’s being in an empty room.’

  ‘An empty room?’

  ‘Yes, with no sound, no light, nothing.’

  ‘Why would that..................’

  ‘Because I would be immediately bored,’ Franz cut in, ‘I would be emptied out quickly and then, then I think I would go crazy. Even thinking about it turns me cold.’

  ‘What a pair,’ Steiner joked.

  ‘Yes. Officers of the Wehrmacht, ready for everything except nothing.’

  ‘Because here is the opposite. I don’t care if it’s all superficial. It’s here, this restaurant, the people, the food, the furniture, the band playing, other noises from outside. This is how it should be.’

  It was then they both became aware of a well-dressed, middle aged man standing next to their table.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind young sirs,’ he said, ‘But at our table we were just discussing whether there really was going to be a war soon and we thought you looked like you might be from the military school so we were wondering whether you might have some idea about what’s happening, that is if you’re allowed to say anything at all.’

  ‘Is it that obvious we are from the school?’ Steiner asked lightly.

  ‘It was meant as a compliment.’

  ‘And that’s how it’s been taken.’

  ‘So what is the consensus on your table?’ Franz asked.

  The man glanced over to the group of men and women at his table, ‘We thought the Poles needed to be taught a few things.’

  ‘And we think you’re right.’

  ‘But they don’t seem to be listening.’

  ‘They’re just playing for time,’ Steiner mentioned.

  ‘You see, the man said, ‘It’s makes us proud. We whole heartedly agree with the Fuhrer.’

  Steiner raised his glass, ‘So let’s drink to that.’

  ‘I hope all goes well for you and apologies again for interrupting your meal.’

  ‘Not at all,’ Steiner said as the man returned to his table.

  ‘Our people are ready it seems,’ was Franz’s remark.

  Steiner paused before saying, ‘You don’t think much of our people, do you?’

  ‘They are necessary.’

  ‘Necessary?’

  ‘To produce children who will become soldiers.’

  ‘Cannon fodder.’

  ‘That’s the Russian way, not ours. We need to take care of what we have.’

  They stopped again while the waiter set down two more glasses of beer.

  ‘I have some brandy upstairs,’ Steiner said when the waiter had gone, ‘I’ve taken a room here.’

  Franz looked at him.

  ‘I just thought I’d mention it.’

  ‘Yes,’ was his empty response.

  ‘Nothing more. You don’t mind?’

  ‘Why should I mind?’

  ‘I wasn’t sure.’

  ‘You were planning.’

  ‘Plans that to an extent depend on you.’

  ‘Only to some extent?’

  ‘Unlike you, I don’t mind my own company,’ Steiner tried.

  ‘Good for you.’

  ‘Although I’d....’

  ‘Of course,’ Franz interrupted.

  ‘Good,’ Steiner said.

  ‘It might not be.’

  ‘That again depends on you.’

  ‘And again.’

  ‘The immortal repetition.’

  ‘How boring.’

  ‘Reassuring.’

  ‘I’d like some coffee,’ Franz put in.

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

  After the meal they climbed the stairs to the third floor of the hotel.

  ‘Is this alright?’ was Steiner’s question as he closed the door of the room.

  Franz looked at the high bed and the armchair near the window that was open letting in the sounds from the square, the noise of tables and chairs being shifted, voices of people on their way across the square, a lorry rattling over the cobbles. When he looked out the first thing he saw was another huge Nazi flag hanging from the next balcony. Every hotel and restaurant around the square had several, hanging there in the thick night air, deep red, white and black against the russet brown of the other buildings.

  ‘I like it,’ he finally answered.

  When he turned round Steiner was stood with two glasses of brandy, saying, ‘I want to know what you want to do.’

  Franz went and sat in the armchair, resting his legs over one of the heavily cushioned arms.

  ‘I don’t want a drink.’

  Steiner set the glasses down.

  ‘Alright, that’s what you don’t want.’

  ‘That’s easier.’

  ‘It shouldn’t be.’

  ‘Well it is.’

  ‘I suppose at the moment I find that disappointing,’ Steiner said as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

  Franz glanced at him, ‘You shouldn’t.’

  ‘I have too many images, too much imagination. That’s the problem.’

  ‘And why should it be a problem?’

  ‘Because of you.’

  ‘So it’s my fault.’

  ‘Yes it certainly is.’

  ‘I just want to watch you. I want to watch you doing it to yourself,’ Franz said.

  ‘At least that’s a start,’ was Steiner’s ironical response, ‘I hope that I can do the same.’

  ‘We’ll have to wait and see.’

  ‘My God, now he’s really teasing me.’

  ‘It’s alright Steiner. I want it to be alright.’

  ‘Well if that’s what you want.’

  Franz sat back, resting his arms on the chair and clasping his fingers together.

  Steiner started taking off his clothes, looking at Franz the whole time.

  When he was naked he laid out on the bed.

  Franz absorbed everything, every part of his body and the movement of his muscles, the whiteness of his skin and his hand gently working at his cock. Quickly he felt his own stiffening as Steiner started to work harder at himself, his thigh muscles tightening and his feet pushing forward. He could hear Steiner’s fast breaths, watching him so closely, his erection, his fingers, his mouth slightly open. He wanted this to go on, to feel this, the dry, coming pulse that was tightening as Steiner began towards his climax. There seemed no hotel room, only a pool of light around Steiner’s long body that quivered slightly with the effort of his action. Everything was centred here in these moments.

  As Steiner came he felt himself come as well, both together as Steiner moaned out, turned over and pumped it out onto the bed, his buttocks tightening and quickly moving up and down, followed by another groan as he finally finished, spreading out his arms and legs. His body was offered, was totally exposed, a fine sheen over its back and shoulders.

  For several minutes neither moved until Steiner roused himself and said he was going for a shower.

  ‘You can join me if you like because it looks like you couldn’t control yourself,’ he added, noticing the wet patch at the front of Franz’s trousers.

  Later in the night Franz was sat in the armchair watching Steiner sleep.

  He watched his soft mouth pucker slightly as he breathed slow and deeply.

  A scene appeared, something he had never imagined before. It was a large ploughed field with frost crusted in the furrows and snow on the edges. The winter soil was almost grey. The ploughed lines stretched off into a misty distance. There was no noise. It was a place of emptiness, of life frozen and waiting for a renewal that would never come. It was then that the figures emerged out of the distant mist. They wer
e like men of snow trudging slowly forward, old snow, crusted and darkened with age. They were soldiers lost in this winter eternity. They would be always coming, always approaching but never reaching the end of the frozen field set out in lines of dead earth reaching off to a cold, shrouded horizon.

  Carefully he got out of bed and took up his clothes into the bathroom to dress. When he was ready he took a last look at Steiner before shutting the hotel door behind him.

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

  It was a few days later when he saw him again. He was part of a unit that had joined up with Franz’s infantry corps that was advancing into Poland with the rest of the German army.

  ‘We go in two directions,’ his commander was having to shout at them all as planes screeched low overhead.

  Franz and his men a few minutes before had climbed out of the back of their trucks. It was then he had noticed Steiner coming along the road with a group of soldiers.

  ‘Brucker, you take your men to the left and the rest of you will follow me.’

  Machine gun fire sounded out in sporadic bursts as artillery boomed in the far distance. The sky was a clear blue against which the planes of the Luftwaffe glistened.

  ‘If you hear any shots Brucker you move into the village with your men.’

  Steiner was standing stiffly behind the first line of listening troops. His features seemed changed. There was no acknowledgement that he had seen Franz.

  ‘There might be nobody there. Maybe they’ve all pissed off to Warsaw, but we’re not trusting that. I want you sharp and ready. So far it’s been too easy. This might be the place where that changes, so be alert.’

  The first small shocks of fear tingled across Franz’s chest. This was his first action. He and his men had only had a few days to get to know each other and all he had managed so far was to remember most of their names.

  ‘If you’re not nervous then you must be dead already,’ their weapons instructor had once said, ‘That’s the engine beginning to warm up, the blood beginning to flow. It’s how you deal with it that matters. After the first moments of action there’ll be no time for nerves, no time for anything except what you have to do.’