Men of Snow

by John R Burns

  It had all taken a few seconds. Franz was impressed. He had expected something a lot more amateurish. He was forced to remain flat against the seat so that he had to curl his legs and let his feet hang over the edge.

  Nothing else was said as the car was driven out of the city onto the autobahn.

  Leon tried to concentrate on the road as again the snow began to fall, this time a lot heavier as it swirled across the six lanes that were full of fast moving traffic.

  It was unreal. It was a film he was watching. Suddenly they had Brucker and it had all gone so quickly, so easily, just as they had planned. He had expected more of a struggle from the German. He still did not trust the situation. It had almost been too easy.

  After an hour of driving David pulled Brucker into a sitting position after he had untied his hands and pulled the tape from his mouth.

  Franz had thought very carefully what he would say if he got the chance. He knew they would want to speak to him, to ask him questions. It did not feel like they were just going to dump him by the side of the road without justification. But he did realise how serious this was. Looking quickly at the two of them he guessed this was father and son. He could see the old one who was driving giving him quick, nervous looks. It was the one beside him who would be the problem. This was a big, well-toned individual who seemed ready for anything. He could sense his body close to his. It was tense and prepared and very strong.

  ‘You listen,’ David said, ‘You say nothing unless it’s to answer a question. Do you understand?’

  Franz made no response.

  ‘I said Brucker, do you understand?’

  The voice was angry and on edge. Franz was worried that this one was already out of control.

  ‘You’ve made a mistake. Whatever it is you think you’re doing you’ve got this all completely wrong,’ he tried.

  It was then Leon watched in horror in the mirror as David suddenly slapped the German on the side of the face.

  ‘We don’t want to hear what you think, so shut up and just listen. You answer questions. That’s all you do.’

  ‘No,’ Franz said.

  At that David slapped him harder.

  Leon had to say something, ‘Just do it. Just do what we ask.’

  ‘And who are you?’ was Franz still persistent.

  For a few moments nobody spoke. Outside the traffic was increasing as the snow cut straight across the autobahn.

  ‘You’re Franz Brucker and you were an officer in the Wehrmacht in the war. You spent the first weeks with a unit in Poland. You.......................’

  ‘Are these questions or statements?’ Franz asked.

  ‘You were in charge of rounding up the Jews of a Polish town called Volnus and organised the extermination of the whole Jewish population. You were also in charge of a unit that sought out partisans in the forest area between Volnus and Cholno.’

  ‘I want to know who you are and what the hell you think you’re doing.’

  ‘No you don’t,’ David replied, ‘What you need to do is tell me if what I have said is correct.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  To Leon it was the same voice, pitched a little higher, but the same calm, defiant tone.

  ‘I think the best thing you can do is turn round at the next intersection and take me back to Hamburg before all this becomes even more serious. You are out of your depth I’m afraid. You’ve made a ridiculous mistake. My name is Brucker yes, but as for the rest of it, I’m afraid I recognise none of it. I’ve never set foot in Poland for a start. In the war, yes I was in the army, but I worked as a transport officer. That was not a job where you ever saw real any action. You’ve got the wrong information from somewhere, the wrong identity. Now turn round before you two both finish up in a German jail. What you’re doing is absolutely ridiculous.’

  ‘If you don’t shut up this will get worse for you Brucker, so fucking shut up.’

  ‘No, I don’t think I will, or what, are you going to beat me up. Will that be enough?’

  Leon tried again, ‘There were witnesses, people who saw you.’

  ‘What witnesses? What are you talking about?’

  ‘I’m talking about people who were in Poland, who witnessed what you did.’

  ‘Nonsense, you’re talking nonsense.’

  Franz felt the game was changing. It was the old one driving who was listening to him. He was the one who was uncertain. The son was different. He could tell this younger Jew wanted to hurt him. He was surprised at the accuracy of their information. For the first years after the war he had been prepared for something like this, but now after so long it seemed unreal. If it wasn’t for the way he’d been taken and then slapped about it would have made an amusing story. He could just imagine Wolf relishing such a tale.

  Now it was imperative he kept on the offensive. The more unpredictable he could be the better. The worst thing was to let this younger Jew think he was getting somewhere.

  ‘So you’re Jews and you’re looking for some kind of war criminal and you think it’s me. So is that it? Is that what you think you’re doing?’

  ‘So you admit at least you were in the army?’ was David’s question.

  ‘I’ve told you that. I said I was and the rest of my generation. What is it, do you want me to apologise for what happened? Is that what you want me to do? Apologise for all the Jew killing?’

  ‘Where were you based as this transport officer?’

  ‘Depends what period of the war you’re talking about.’

  ‘The first three months.’

  ‘We were based in Frankfurt preparing plans for the invasion of France. Once the Russians had signed up that was what we concentrated on.’

  ‘And you’re a liar.’

  ‘Of course you would think that because it’s not what you want to hear. It’s you who have made the mistake, not me. Now I suggest you do as I say and get me back to Hamburg, back to my apartment and let’s stop all this nonsense. I’m not the Brucker you’re looking for.’

  It was as Leon had expected and it was only making David increasingly frustrated.

  Now the traffic was having to slow because of the severity of the weather. The inner lane was full of trucks and buses while the other two were now filling with more cars. It was the same over the other side of the autobahn. The whole thing was coming to a standstill.

  He kept looking in his mirror at the German. Now David had pulled his woolly hat off he could clearly see the scars down one cheek and part of his neck. Brucker was thinner, with age lines around his mouth, but otherwise he had hardly changed. Leon was looking back all those years.

  The night before they had agreed that whatever the German did they had to persist with the questions and see if eventually they could wear him down. Leon wanted to confront Brucker, to try and get him to admit what he had done and do this without any violence. But now he was doubtful, not realising that David, whatever he had promised, was going to use force to get some answers. That was what was the worst fear, that once he started David would not be able to stop.

  ‘People saw you,’ Leon found himself repeating, ‘There are witnesses who saw you in Poland.’

  ‘So you keep saying,’ was Franz’s response.

  Already he was looking for a way out, noticing the traffic slowing down outside and the poor visibility. This had already gone too far. He was still unsure what these two wanted as a final outcome. All his army training, even after so long, had already kicked in. He knew whatever was necessary that he was quick and fit enough. All that he lacked was the strength to take on the young one. That was why he had to out think him before he started another round of slaps and punches.

  For a few moments he studied the driver. There was an antiseptic smell coming from him. He was hunched slightly over the steering wheel dressed in an overcoat and scarf. The hair at the back of his head was curled up over the rim of his coat. The face he got glances of in the driver’s mirror was a grey colour, as t
hough this man was ill with yellow bags under his eyes and spittle dried in the corners of his mouth. The features were obviously Jewish, especially the dark eyes that kept furtively giving him a look. His breathing seemed slow and laboured and the backs of his hands had veins ridged stiffly from the wrist to the fingers. This one he was not worried about, the father making sure his overzealous son did not lose control.

  ‘You should make your decision,’ he said then.

  ‘It’s you who should be making a decision,’ David immediately replied, ‘Otherwise this is only going to get worse for you.’

  ‘Are you going to let him threaten me like that?’ was his direct question to the father.

  Leon made no response. He knew what he was trying to do.

  Franz was aware of the distance between himself and the one beside him. He glanced at the door handle as he began to calculate how quickly the younger Jew, also in a thick overcoat, could make a sudden movement to obstruct him.

  The vehicles outside had almost come to a stop. He realised that this was the opportunity that had to be taken.

  His first move was a turn of the body as he grabbed the door handle with his left hand, instinctively raising his right arm ready to defend himself, all of it poised in action, all of it like some gym exercise. Then the car door was half open. Snow flurried its sudden coldness against his face as momentarily he looked across at the passenger of the vehicle in the next lane and moved his leg towards the slowly moving tarmac outside the door. His brain was telling him the more public this attempted escape was the better, that it increased his chances of success. Already he could imagine himself weaving between the cars with all the energy he had, an energy he had spent the last thirty years consolidating. His focus was on the instant it took to start shifting his right leg and bend his body with the continuing motion of further opening the car door.

  He had gained more than half his body’s freedom before the Jew reacted. It began with a loud grunt, followed by Franz’s arm being pushed out of the way and the hood of his tracksuit top being grabbed as the car suddenly accelerated and then just as quickly braked jolting both of them into the back seat, which gave the Jew the chance to bring over his hand with its large thick fingers digging now into the back of Franz’s neck.

  ‘No! Fucking no!’ David was shouting as he jerked the German back into the car.

  ‘David,’ Leon tried as his son threw himself over Brucker to grab the window winder and slam the door shut before swinging back to strike him.

  ‘Move the car! Move the car onto the hard shoulder. Move the car and put the hazard lights on!’ David was screaming at his father, ‘Onto the hard shoulder and drive, drive!’ he continued as his second blow landed and then another against the side of the German’s head.

  ‘Alright, alright,’ Franz was muttering.

  ‘You don’t fucking move now!’

  Loud words as the car skidded over the thicker snow on the hard shoulder.

  ‘Now turn back in. Indicate you’re turning back, indicate!’

  Leon swung the wheel, his chest suddenly shooting pains as the car slid sideways and then corrected itself back onto the next lane between two stationary lorries, one of the drivers blasting his horn at such a sudden move.

  ‘You stupid fucking bastard,’ David was shouting.

  ‘What’s happening?’ Leon asked as he tried to slow his breathing.

  ‘This silly bastard thought he could escape.’

  ‘I thought you locked the door.’

  ‘Don’t you realise we’re serious Brucker? This is not a fucking game. We want you to start talking and not lie your fucking head off. You know what this is about. You know what we want, so enough of the fucking innocence, of we’ve got the wrong Brucker. Just start talking.’

  ‘Or what, another smack in the face? And there was I thinking the Jews were more intelligent than that.’

  Franz immediately knew he had made a mistake.

  ‘So go on, tell us more about what you know about the Jews. You’re the expert. Go on Brucker, tell us how we are, how we live and we die. That’s what you’re best at, isn’t it?’

  He made no response. In the front seat he could tell the old one was having difficulties. He was breathing hard and in the mirror he could see the sweat dribbling down the Jew’s face.

  ‘I think your father is not well,’ he said then, hoping this might distract the other one.

  ‘I’m...I’m fine,’ Leon tried.

  Just then the traffic started moving. Leon put the car in gear and tried to focus on what was happening outside. But his vision was blurred by the steamed up windscreen and the snow on the glass as the lorry in front spewed out exhaust fumes.

  Franz was already thinking about what came next. He guessed they would have to stop somewhere. The old man looked exhausted and seemed barely capable of driving. The pain down the side of his head was only a slight consideration. Pain could be manipulated by the brain. It was something he had learnt in Stalingrad. If he concentrated hard enough everything was reduced and became like a background sound to the rest of his thinking.

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

  Even though David argued that they had not enough time Leon still turned off the autobahn, following a line of traffic into a service station’s car park. Again he felt dizzy and out of focus, but more than anything he needed to be out of the car. The whole situation was a mess. Brucker would admit to nothing. The more David tried the less he got from the German. He was being beaten and it was this that was the biggest fear. Leon knew his son well enough to know how close he was to completely losing all restraint. They had to have a break.

  In the crowded toilets he held onto the edge of one of the sinks trying to steady himself. What was left of his strength was draining away. He took out a selection of his pills and gulped them down with a mouthful of water. His face was covered in sweat and his hands were trembling from the effort of the driving. He was more than ever terrified that his son was going to kill the German. There seemed no other outcome. Brucker was forcing them. All their plans and promises were disintegrating into this sickening conclusion. Leon was lost to it. None of this was what he wanted. To think that the years of searching was going to end in more violence. He did not believe this was what his family would have asked for. But now there was only the equation of death leading to more death. Rachel was right. He had produced a son who saw a killing revenge as the only answer.

  After filling up with petrol immediately he got back in the car he could tell something had happened. Brucker was sitting stiffly, his arms pressed down by the side. David looked even more grim and angry.

  Again they had to queue to get back on the autobahn. The snow was increasing and was being whipped across the six lanes of slow moving traffic.

  They had only been driving a few minutes when Franz said, ‘Why don’t you tell him?’

  Leon glanced in the mirror at David’s pale, stiffly set features.

  ‘Go on, tell him.’

  ‘Tell me what?’ Leon wanted to know.

  He thought he was ready for anything but not the fact that David had a gun.

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Shut up,’ was all David could manage.

  ‘He’s got a gun. Didn’t you know that? When you were in the washroom he threatened me with it, said if I didn’t start talking he was going to use it, and he told me how, one bullet in one leg and then the other and so on until I started telling him what he wanted to hear. I don’t mind doing that. I’ll tell you anything you want to hear. It doesn’t bother me. But I just thought you should know that your son has a gun and is quite likely to use it.’

  Leon could hardly breathe. He realised then that David had had a lot of time by himself back in Hamburg, time enough to organise anything he wanted.

  ‘You promised,’ he finally said.

  ‘Just concentrate on the road,’ he was told.

  ‘He has a gun in his coat po
cket,’ Brucker put in.

  ‘Is that true?’

  ‘What if it is? Do you think there’s any other way?’

  ‘But you promised.’

  ‘Circumstances have changed.’

  ‘I don’t.......don’t see how.’

  ‘Just drive father.’

  ‘You can’t do this David.’

  ‘Tell him,’ Brucker tried, only for David to pull out the revolver and hit him with it across the head.

  ‘Stop it! Stop it David! Stop this!’ Leon was shouting, the strain of it hurting his throat as the vehicles in front of him started to accelerate.

  ‘Just watch the road. Watch the road,’ David was telling him.

  He looked in the mirror to see the blood trickling down the German’s face. Brucker appeared untroubled. There was even the hint of a smile on his lips.

  ‘I’m going to pull over,’ Leon said.

  ‘You keep driving,’ David insisted.

  ‘I’m going no further.’

  ‘Just keep going father. This is what he wants. This is just what he wants.’

  ‘You have to stop him,’ added Franz.

  ‘Nothing has happened,’ David said.

  ‘You promised me.’

  ‘Show him the gun.’

  ‘I want you to keep driving father.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You keep driving.’

  ‘No David.’

  ‘I’ll shoot him if you don’t keep driving.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘I said keep driving or I’ll shoot this....this thing.’

  ‘David, what are you saying? What are you saying to me?’

  ‘I mean it. I will. I’ll shoot him.’

  His son’s voice was unrecognisable. Leon had lost him. He was doing the one thing he had promised he would not do.

  ‘I want to know where you are taking me,’ was Franz’s new attempt.

  There was no response so he repeated his question, ‘Where do you think you are taking me?’

  Leon felt weak and emptied out. There was nothing left, no energy. All he could do was try to keep the car in its lane as the lines on the road disappeared. The lorries sprayed wet snow over the windscreen so the wipers could hardly cope. Outside was a grey confusion of sky and land merged into the snow storm. He could feel the cold sweat down his face. His arms were aching as he gripped the wheel. The situation was beyond him. Now when he glanced at the German it hardly mattered what happened to him. For a few moments his mind was filled with the images of what Brucker had done and from them came a resignation, a sense that he could do more. He was tired and aching and filled with a sudden disgust.