Playing with Matches: Coming of age in Hitler's Germany.

by Lee Strauss

  He worked his eyelids open a crack, then closed them quickly. Bright light, blinding, singed his eyes.

  An itch in his throat, a dry cough.

  “Emil?” A voice. Familiar. His brain raced to place it, but drew a blank.

  Whoever it was slipped a straw in between his lips. He sucked back cool water. Eagerly. Too eagerly. He gagged.

  “Easy,” the voice said. “There’s more where this came from.”

  He attempted to open his eyes again. Images blurred against the light. Someone leaned over him.

  A girl?

  He must be dreaming. This whole thing must be a dream. He hadn’t seen a girl in months.

  Especially not this girl. She looked like Irmgard.

  A bad dream. He told himself to go back to sleep.

  “Emil?” The girl nudged his left arm. “Are you awake?”

  “Irmgard?”

  “Yes, it’s me! Isn’t this amazing? I’m an auxiliary nurse. I couldn’t believe it when they brought you and Johann in.”

  Johann. He was with him out on the front line. He remembered now. Friedrich crumbling like a used rag to the ground. Johann screaming. His bloody stump.

  “Johann! Is he okay?” Emil tried to sit up. Bad move. The pain screamed once again.

  “Shh,” Irmgard said. “Stay still. Johann is here, in the bed next to you.”

  More carefully this time, Emil turned his head to the right. His friend was there, sleeping. Head wrapped. The new form of his body obvious under the white sheet: one leg, one stump.

  “He’s lucky I was here,” she said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “We don’t usually bother attending to wounds if it’s clear the soldier is no longer able to go back on the field.”

  “You just let them die?”

  “So many wounded come in every day. But because I was here, I told them I knew him. That he was fighting in the same unit as my brother.”

  “But Rolf isn’t in our unit.”

  She winked. “I know.”

  “Why would they care what you said? It’s not like you’re a general in the army.”

  “No” she said, with a sly grin. “But I know one.” She pulled apart her cardigan, smoothing her hand over her skirt, over a barely hidden bump. She was expecting a child.

  “I didn’t know you were married.”

  “Oh, I’m not.” She covered her grin with her hand. “This is for the Fuehrer. We need new sons to lead the thousand-year Reich.”

  Was she serious? She was stupider than Georg.

  “You know,” she bent over to whisper. “I used to have a crush on you.”

  “Oh?”

  “How could you not know?” she seemed surprised. “Hey, why didn’t you like me?”

  Emil wanted to stay on her good side. He couldn’t tell her he thought she was a psychotic bigot.

  “Um, I did like you. I just, you know, wasn’t sure, uh, what to do about girls back then.”

  “Boys can be so simple minded.” she sighed “But you know, I still think you’re pretty good-looking.” She stood to go. “Maybe, after the war, we can…” she patted her stomach and winked. “You know, make good for the Fatherland.”

  Emil sighed. He dreaded the day he’d have to tell Johann that he had Irmgard to thank for saving his life.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  EMIL HAD been lucky. The bullet to his shoulder was just a flesh wound, and looked more like a bad whipping than a gun shot. The bullet to his leg had missed the bone and major arteries. There was muscle and nerve damage, and his gait had been forever altered, but at least he was walking again.

  He spent the cold month of November in the field hospital where he had decent food, warmth, and relative safety. In his mind, it was worth a bullet to get away from the horrors of fighting on the front.

  Though his injuries were serious enough to keep him away from that hell, they weren’t bad enough to grant him a trip home. Instead they shipped him back to Nuremberg.

  Because the war wasn’t over.

  Even though everyone knew that they had already lost it.

  Of course, Johann was shipped back to Passau. Emil was certain the stump would heal; he was more concerned for his friend’s spirit.

  “I wish I’d died on that field,” Johann whispered one night. “Why didn’t you leave me? Why didn’t you just let me die?”

  Emil whispered back, “Would you’ve left me?”

  It was early December when they shipped him back to Nuremberg on a grimy, over-full train. He limped around the base with his crutches pinching his underarms, wondering how he could be of much use around there.

  A new boy was sitting upright on the lone wooden chair in the room when Emil shuffled in.

  “Hallo,” Emil said.

  “Grüss Gott.”

  “My name’s Emil. Who are you?”

  “I am Günther.”

  Like everyone else Emil knew, Günther looked as if he hadn’t eaten much lately. He was small, his skin a ghostly white. Emil guessed that he wasn't much older than his own brother Helmut.

  Günther hadn’t claimed one of the upper bunks, like Georg and Friedrich had when they had first arrived, and since Emil was unable to climb to a top bunk, he was forced to take the lower one next to Günther. They were so close they could touch each other in the night.

  “Do you want to take an upper bunk?” Emil said. “It’s okay with me.”

  “I’d rather not, if you don’t mind.” Günther laced his fingers together, staring hard at them.

  He was the polar opposite of Georg, Emil thought as he studied his new roommate. Where Georg was strong and dominating, Günther seemed frail and shy. Where Georg liked to command all conversation, Günther was reluctant to speak.

  Emil wondered what had happened to Georg? Had he fallen, or was he still alive somewhere?

  SS Officer Spiegl had moved to a new post. Albert Jäger was the new commander of the Nuremberg training camp.

  Emil couldn’t believe it. “Jäger?”

  “That’s Officer Jäger, to you, Radle!”

  Damn.

  Albert Jäger strutted around like a pompous king. He was a taller, thinner version of his father, and not that much older than Emil. Emil hated taking orders from him.

  “I’ll be watching you,” Jäger said, “I know about that traitor, that friend of yours.”

  Emil’s hands formed tight fists by his side. Leave Moritz out of it.

  “My father’s keeping an eye on your mother and brother, too. There’s something not right there.”

  “You watch it,” Emil said.

  “No, you watch it, Radle.” He snapped his heels together and saluted. “Heil Hitler!”

  “Heil Hitler,” Emil answered, hating him for forcing a show of loyalty. Albert Jäger held his gaze as they both held their salute, and Emil dared not look away first. Then Albert spun on his heels, leaving Emil to shoot daggers in his back with his glare.

  Time skidded to a near halt, the days stretching out before Emil with excruciating slowness. They did drills over and over again until Emil felt he could do them in his sleep. In fact he often dreamed about the drills, never able to get away from his captivity at the base. His mind tortured him with homesickness. The memory of a kitchen filled with his family and the heavenly smell of fresh bread.

  And thoughts of Katharina. Always Katharina.

  It seemed his only task was to wait and wait some more. Wait for the war to return to Nuremberg.

  One morning there was a knock on the bunk door, which was odd, since no one ever “visited” in the morning. Emil opened the door and Hans, whom Emil recognized from the base, walked in with his personal bag in hand.

  “Sorry to intrude,” he said, “but I’m your new bunkmate.” With that declaration he made claim to the free bunk above Günther.

  “I don’t understand,” Emil said. “What’s wrong with your own bunker?”

  “They didn’t explain. I’m just followi
ng orders.”

  Emil shook his head. He hadn't seen any new boys around, no new arrivals.

  After a short breakfast of oatmeal and boiled eggs, Albert made a show of marching to the front of the room. He straightened his lapels before making an announcement.

  “As you all are well aware, our great nation is at a critical hour.” Albert clasped his hands behind his back, his eyes darting to the side door. He continued, “Extreme circumstances call for extreme measures and in the time of war it becomes necessary to employ all resources in order to stay the course and gain victory.”

  Emil’s stomach flipped. He clenched his mid-section, nervously waiting for Albert to make his pronouncement. What was it this time, a return to the front? In Russia, perhaps?

  “So, to that end, I would like to introduce you to our new recruits.”

  And in walked a group of girls.

  The boys gasped. Emil recalled the female partisan shot down in front of him and frowned. Hitler had conscripted girls to fight his war. It had come to that for the German army now.

  They wore trousers. Besides the partisan, Emil had never seen a lady in trousers before; he didn’t think any of the other boys there had either. They all had their hair braided and tied up.

  Their chaperone instructed them to line up against the wall. Emil groaned. The fourth one from the end. She lifted her chin and turned her face towards Emil. She found his eyes and offered a soft smile.

  Katharina.

  Albert cleared his throat. “I’ll leave you to get acquainted for a few minutes before the training session begins.”

  Hans grinned and started chuckling. “Thank you, Hitler,” he said and walked toward the small group of girls. He wasn’t alone. With the exception of Günther, all the boys sauntered over, looking to make a good first impression.

  Emil was amazed at how fast his bad leg could go when he was motivated to move. In an instant he was standing before her.

  He grabbed her wrist and pulled her away from the crowd. “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

  The sparkle in her eyes dimmed. “You’re not happy to see me?”

  “No, I’m not!”

  Her jaw tightened as she turned her face from him.

  “It’s not that,” Emil said, longing to pull her close. “I am happy to see you. Just not here. Not like this. It’s not safe.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t have a choice.”

  Emil regretted his harshness. Of course she hadn’t chosen to come. And if she was to be conscripted, he wanted her with him. He was thankful Passau fell into the Nuremberg jurisdiction.

  He let out a long, slow breath and said, “I’m sorry. Can we start again?”

  Katharina nodded.

  Emil wanted to kiss her, but he didn’t dare in front of the others He shook her hand and didn’t let go. “Welcome to Nuremberg.”

  “Thank you. It’s a pleasure to be here.” She smiled, sharing his joke.

  “Who’s that?” she said, looking over his shoulder.

  Emil turned around. Günther was there, hovering.

  “That’s my shadow, Günther.”

  “Introduce me.”

  Emil called him over. “Günther, meet my, uh, good friend, Katharina. She’s also from Passau.”

  Günther tentatively shook her hand.

  “There’s Fraulein Hanenberg,” Katharina said, after a moment. “She’s our officer. I have to go.” She squeezed Emil’s hand again before leaving. “I’ll see you later.”

  That evening Emil took Katharina on a tour of Nuremberg. He was used to seeing bombed out buildings, and holes in the ground filled with rubble, but Katharina hadn’t seen anything like it yet.

  Her eyes were bright with horror. “This is terrible.”

  In the light of early dusk, the broken buildings stared down on them like wounded giants; half their large bodies ripped away, their eyes dark squares of broken glass.

  “Not all of Nuremberg is destroyed,” Emil said. “There are still a few streets that remain fairly normal.” They turned down one of them and passed by the pub where some of the other recruits were hanging out. Hans spotted them and motioned for them to join.

  Emil tapped the small of her back. “Do you want to go in?”

  “For a little while, just to warm up.”

  It was a small, smoky room, with dark wood beams and exposed brick. Albert was there, and Emil almost spun around and left. But Katharina was cold so they sat at a table across from each other and ordered coffee.

  “As much as I hate that you’re here,” Emil said, “it is so great to be with you again.”

  “I know,” she said. “I moped around for days after you left. My mother threatened to tie me up.”

  “How is he, how is Johann?”

  Katharina let her gaze drift to the window. “I don’t know. He’s alive on the outside, but on the inside…I can’t find him. He was furious when he found out I was being sent here but relieved that at least I would be with you.”

  She looked back at Emil. “How are you? Does your leg hurt you terribly?”

  He’d grown accustomed to the chronic pain, and didn’t want to burden Katharina unnecessarily. He shook his head. “Not much.”

  She lifted her cup to her lips and Emil saw the blue thread around her finger. He hadn’t noticed it before, and felt glad that she had left it on. He remembered their time together in the park, how he professed his love, lost himself in her kisses.

  When she put her cup down, Emil grabbed her hand. “So, we’re still engaged,” he said, grinning, wanting to change the mood of their conversation.

  “Of course!” she smiled. “You didn’t think you could get rid of me that easily, did you Emil?”

  “I never want to get rid of you.”

  He’d held her hand for too long. Hans and his buddy, Franz, strolled over. “Hi lovebirds,” Hans said squishing in beside Katharina. Emil felt himself go red and hoped Hans hadn’t embarrassed Katharina. “Mind if we join you?”

  Not that Emil could have refused him. Franz pushed in next to him. He and Hans drank beer; Hans tipped his glass and took a swig.

  “You’re an old pro,” he said looking at Emil. “How long until we see some action around here?”

  “What kind of action are you talking about?” said Franz, winking.

  Hans elbowed Katharina. “I don’t know. What kind of action am I talking about, sweetheart?”

  “Hey!” Emil said. His hands curled into fists.

  “Excuse me,” Katharina said. “I think we should go.”

  “No, no, I’m just kidding,” Hans said. “Relax. Emil, come on, you know what kind of action I mean.”

  “How am I supposed to know,” Emil said.

  “I’m getting kind of bored,” Hans said. “You know?”

  “Me too,” said Franz, who was a lot like Hans. In fact, Emil thought, he probably wished he were Hans.

  “We’d be lucky to stay bored,” Emil said through tight lips, his knuckles still white.

  Hans turned to Katharina. “He’s no fun, is he?”

  “I’m warm enough,” she said, ignoring Hans. “Let’s go.”

  “Oh, come on,” Hans groaned. “You don’t really have to go.”

  “Actually, I do. I have a curfew and Fraulein Hanenberg will punish me if I’m late.”

  “Fine,” he said, getting up to let Katharina out, touching her shoulder and her lower back as he did so. Emil felt like punching him in the face.

  Albert watched them leave.

  “Sorry about them,” Emil said as they walked back to the base. “They had too much to drink.”

  She sighed. “Boys will be boys.”

  Emil dropped Katharina off at her bunker and this time he kissed her, long and lingering.

  “Good night,” he said.”

  “See you in the morning.” She blew him a kiss as he walked away.

  Günther was already in his bunk when he got back. Emil crept into bed, clothes on. He did this f
or two reasons. One, it was cold, and two he had learned from his last duty to always be ready for anything.

  “I’m not sleeping,” Günther said. “You don’t have to be quiet because of me.”

  “I’m tired. I want to go to sleep now,” Emil said. Then he grew curious. “What’d you do tonight?”

  “Not much. I have some books. I read a bit,” Günther said. “How about you?”

  “I showed Katharina around Nuremberg.”

  “Is she your girl?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Is she your girlfriend or just a girl you’d like to be your girlfriend?” Günther rolled onto his side. “I’d say she’s already your girlfriend, or you plan on making it that way real soon.”

  Emil would’ve liked to tell Günther the truth, that Katharina was his girlfriend, fiancé, and so much more. That she meant everything to him and that he planned to marry her as soon as the war was over. But that kind of information loose in these barracks would just cause them trouble.

  “That’s the most I’ve ever heard you say at one time,” Emil said instead. “When did you become a relationship expert?”

  “I’m just good at observing people.”

  “I see.” Emil turned over and faced the wall. “Then you should be able to tell what I’m doing now.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  EMIL WAS gratified the next morning to see that Hans and Franz were looking a bit green and didn’t have much of an appetite for breakfast. That meant there would be more for the rest of them, and that maybe it would shut them up for a while.

  After breakfast, during Flak training, Albert called on him.

  “Since apparently you are skilled and experienced on Flak, I would like you to instruct some of our new recruits. I’ll send over two.”

  He recognized Katharina’s gait as her silhouette broke through the sunlight. “Good morning,” she said when she reached him.

  It certainly has gotten better, Emil thought, smiling at her. A ginger haired girl followed behind. “I’m Bettina,” she said, lowering her chin, her eyes wide and flirty.

  Emil cleared his throat. “Well, let’s get started.” He ran his hand along the barrel of the gun. “This is an 88 millimeter heavy Flak gun. There are smaller versions of this out on the field. The first one I trained on in Passau was a small, one-man Flak.”