Volk

by Piers Anthony

  mains a python, and must pay the penalty of its kind.”

  “What penalty?” she asked.

  “Well, the python caused Eve to eat the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, so that she and Adam were exiled from the Garden of Eden. For that the python is accursed among animals—”

  “I meant the Jews,” she said.

  “The Jews? Maybe they should all emigrate to America. I do not wish them any harm. I merely want my homeland pure. A Jew-free Germany.” He shrugged. He was expressing a safe attitude, rather than his own. “But this is no subject for parlor conversation! You were telling me how it is in the Youth.”

  “As if you didn’t know!” She frowned. “You think I can’t tell you anything new? I’ll show you! Have you heard about Rommel?”

  “I know of no Youth by that name.”

  “Lieutenant-Colonel Rommel, stupid—the war hero. Last year he joined the Hitler Youth.”

  “The war hero? Holder of the highest decoration, the Pour le Merite? Certainly I know of him! But the war was twenty years ago; isn’t he a little old for—”

  “As instructor, as advisor!” she said, laughing. “They decided to put in a real soldier, to give some practical military training. He was doing it too, organizing for sound education and character building. But our dear leader Schirach, who is no soldier, got jealous. He wants to run the Youth all by himself. Rommel told him right out that if he wanted to be the leader of a para-military force, he should first become a soldier himself. Oooo, Schirach didn’t like that! So he kicked Rommel out. They called it reassignment, of course, to cover up the truth. How’s that for news?”

  “It’s a scandal!” Ernst exclaimed. “A man like Rommel—I wish my troop had had his instruction!”

  “So the Youth is not perfect,” she said smugly. “There is politics there too. You thought I was too stupid to know, didn’t you?”

  “Well, a girl as pretty as you doesn’t need to be smart.” There was an art to temporizing.

  Krista struggled with that statement, but finally decided it was a compliment. “Now will you tell me about Nuremberg?”

  “Nuremberg is a famous city in the mountains of southern Germany, in Bavaria, some two hundred and forty kilometers east-southeast of here—”

  She hit him lightly with her small fist. “Will you stop that? You know I meant when you went there, four years ago.”

  “Oh, that. Four years is a long time to remember.” Actually he owed it to her; the news she had imparted about Rommel was certainly of interest to him. What a lost opportunity for the Youth! If Ernst had to enlist in the army, he’d jump at the chance to serve under Rommel.

  Of course Krista hoped to go to Nuremberg herself, for the annual festivities, and she wanted the reassurance of his prior experience. He should be happy to tell her all about it; seldom would he have a more enthusiastic audience. Yet somehow he found himself holding back. Why?

  He figured it out in a moment. It was because a substantial part of Krista’s interest had to be in him, rather than in the subject. That was flattering, but it was time to begin distancing himself from her, if he didn’t want to be pushed into more of a commitment than he desired. It was obvious that both his family and hers thought that the two of them would be an excellent match, and so they had been put together and left alone. Krista already wanted him, and she was now the kind of girl any man would want. Propinquity was bound to have effect.

  But Ernst did not want to be managed. Perhaps he had indeed been corrupted to that extent by his stay in America. He wanted to choose for himself, especially in love. Also, he had become more discriminating. He now recognized in Krista certain limitations, a narrowness of outlook, that subtly repelled him. She was beautiful, but she was not the shadow of the woman that Lane’s fiancée Quality was. He did not want to be bound to her.

  But how could he avoid it? It seemed that everyone, including Krista herself, was determined to do it. He could not simply decline; there would be repercussions and unpleasantness.

  Then he thought of a way. He would answer her, but in a way that should discourage her from pursuing him. If he could cause her to lose her interest in him, not because of any suspicion about his patriotism but for unspecified reason, he would soon be free of her without blame.

  He moved closer to her and put his arm around her shoulders. “I will be happy to tell you all about it. The very memory thrills me.”

  She turned into him, surprised and pleased by his action. He hoped that this was a superficial reaction. “You can imagine the excitement of preparation, the constant drilling, the competition with other units, the hope and fear of success, and of the enormous satisfaction of having your troop chosen to go to the Nuremberg Rally.”

  “Yes,” she breathed.

  He moved his hand down from her shoulder to her hip. “As you know, the city is almost three hundred kilometers by road from Wiesbaden, because the road follows the meandering river and the contours of the land, stretching out the distance. It was a longer journey than many of us had made before, which was part of the excitement.”

  “Yes!”

  His hand moved slowly along her thigh. “It was a glorified camping excursion; we sang patriotic songs on the way. But in time boredom set in, for we were sixteen, with brief attention spans. The songs degenerated. Finally we got to the notorious ribald Es Zittern die morschen Knochen, ‘The rotten bones are trembling,’ only certain portions were changed so that it became ‘the rotten bones are trembling in the ass.’”

  Krista tittered. She gave no sign of objecting to the manner his hand was traveling. But she would have to, soon.

  “At that point I was compelled to call off the singing,” he continued. “There could have been serious repercussions if anyone in authority had overheard.”

  “I have heard of that song,” Krista said. “I don’t know the words, of course.”

  “Of course,” he agreed with a chuckle. He gave her thigh a squeeze through the cloth of her skirt. Still she did not object. Could she be unaware?

  “Then we encountered a contingent traveling south from Leipzig, and one of my boys yelled ‘Beefsteak!’ and almost started a pitched battle between groups. For it is known that in the larger cities a good many Communist youth groups had converted to the Hitler Youth under pressure, and many Communists had joined the Nazi storm troopers. Thus we referred to them derisively as ‘beefsteak Nazis’: brown on the outside, red on the inside. It takes more than a brown shirt to make a good Nazi.”

  “Beefsteak!” Krista exclaimed, giggling. “That’s good! You should have fought them.”

  His hand continued past her knee and made the turn. He found the hem of her skirt and touched her bare leg. “But what kind of a marching exhibition would my troop have put on, if it had gotten beaten up by beefsteaks?” Ernst inquired. “They outnumbered us, and some were pretty large steaks.” But in truth he was rather proud of the episode. He hated Communism.

  “True,” she said with similar regret.

  “The Rally was phenomenal. It lasted almost a week, with different programs scheduled each day. There were so many people there that they filled the streets and courtyards. All day there were marches and parades, with banners and standards, the magnificent black swastika symbol of the Volk set in a white circle against a bright red background. There was singing and cheering in unison, a mighty chorus from thousands of throats. Bands played stirring military music; drums beat out the thrumming cadences. Emotion built up. It was terrific.”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  His hand was now sliding back up her leg, taking the skirt with it. Still no protest. Where was her limit?

  “Then the Führer spoke, thundering out his enthusiasm for Germany, for the great ideals of this great nation, for the thousand year empire of the Third Reich. The crowd responded passionately, and I was one with it. ‘Ein Reich! Ein Volk! Ein Führer!’ over and over, louder and louder. The Nation, the People, the Leader— what inspirat
ion! The emotion of the occasion charged the air; it was as if the very soul of the Volk issued forth from these massed bodies. Individual response no longer existed; there was only the passion of the moment.”

  “Oh,” she said, her eyes shining. How could she be oblivious to the progress of his hand? He was now passing the knee again, inside her skirt. He had expected her to balk before this, to start drawing away, to be repulsed by the discovery that he was only interested in forbidden touching. That he was, in short, a typical young man. She was supposed to be turned off by this revelation, and to lose her fascination with him.

  “At night there was a torchlight procession. The drumbeat grew deafening, compelling every foot, even among those who only watched. I had never experienced a more moving demonstration. The beat and image pulsed in my brain long after the marches passed. I could hardly sleep.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then came the Party Day of Unity, and the Youth Rally. This was the biggest moment of all. My troop was one of those privileged few to march in the sight of the Führer . And Adolf Hitler spoke directly to the Youth, praising the boys for their past achievements and for their attainment of the important goal of discipline. Only discipline and obedience, he said, would make us fit to issue orders later in life.”

  “Yes,” Krista repeated. Then, as his hand crossed the top of her bared thigh and headed inside: “Someone might see.”

  She had finally balked! He had been getting worried.

  Then she stood, adjusted her skirt, and sat sideways on his lap, her skirt falling down outside. “But now they can’t,” she murmured, and leaned in to kiss him.

  Ernst stiffened his jaw to prevent it from dropping. She was not objecting. What was he supposed to do now?

  She had to be bluffing. She was too conformist to break with convention. She was trying to make him back off. Where would he be, if she succeeded? So it was a contest between them, and he had to win it if he wanted to be free of her.

  She was right about one thing: no one could see his hand under her skirt now. The contest would be invisible. Where would she stop? He would find out. He moved in and touched the slick satiny surface of her buttock.

  But meanwhile he talked, because it was the sound of their voices that reassured family members elsewhere in the house. Silence would occasion an investigation. “I remember the very words Hitler spoke. ‘We want to be a peace-loving people, but at the same time courageous,’ he concluded ringingly. ‘That is why you must be peaceful and courageous too. Our people must be honor-loving; you must learn the concept of honor from earliest childhood.’ For all of us in the audience had learned the consequence of dishonor, as practiced by the Allies after the War. The Volk would set a new and perfect standard for all the world to behold and try to emulate. ‘You must be proud,’ the great man continued. ‘Proud to be the youthful members of the greatest nation in the world. But you must also practice obedience. You must learn to overcome hardship and privations. There must be no class distinctions among our people; never let such notions take root among you.’ And, with a flourish, he finished: ‘All that we expect of the Germany of the future, we expect of you. We shall pass on, but Germany will live in you.’”

  “Oh, yes!” Krista agreed. Ernst wasn’t sure whether she meant agreement with Hitler’s words, or with the progress of his hand, which was now far beyond the bounds of propriety.

  He carried on. “The applause interrupted the great man frequently during his speech. Now the cheering was deafening. The Hitler Youth anthem played, and the Führer shook hands with the most favored Youths. Among those was mine. I was afraid the very bones of my fingers would shake apart as I shivered with excitement. I remember thinking The rotten bones are trembling, and being horribly embarrassed at the very notion. I didn’t matter, but I would have hated to soil Hitler’s hand with rotten bones. But his grip was firm, and mine seemed so too. ‘Fine job!’ the Führer murmured, giving me a brief, meaningful glance. Then he went on, leaving me half stunned. The great man had spoken personally to me, and looked me right in the eye!”

  “Oh, that must have been Heaven!” Krista agreed enviously, the muscles of her legs tightening against his hand. “To shake his hand!”

  It had been, indeed. Yet this present moment had a certain devious similarity, for her body was also having an electrifying effect on his hand. He was beginning to hope that she wouldn’t balk.

  “It was,” he agreed. “I was half-dazed in off-moments for days thereafter. That was when I read Mein Kampf and learned about the Jews.” He didn’t say that he had since had cause to doubt that all Jews were of that nature.

  “More,” she said.

  Yet again he was surprised. Did she mean more about his life, though the high point of it had passed with that meeting with Hitler, or more of what he was doing under her skirt? Or both? He was about to have to concede defeat, because there was not much farther he could afford to go without hopelessly compromising himself as much as her.

  “There is not much, and I think you know it already. I graduated from the Youth at age eighteen, and was ready for my national service. But then my father was transferred to America. That was a separate experience, and one I value.”

  “And now you are back, and I am so glad to have you back,” she said. “As I have been trying to show you.”

  She had indeed. “Now I am twenty, and am subject to military service,” he said. “Later I can complete my education at a University, perhaps at Frankfurt.” Actually the Führer despised those who studied as weaklings, unfit for the Volk, unless they specialized in something technical or agriculture. While Ernst would never criticize Hitler, he hoped that his own interest in higher education would not be considered too large a blemish on his character. “I will seek a term in the regular army or the SS. Unless my father is able to exert influence and get me into a university immediately. It is not that I am unpatriotic, but that I think I can best serve the Fatherland by completing my education first. So it seems likely that I will not be here at home long.”

  “Is this a polite riddance?” she asked.

  “I thought it might be,” he said, taken aback again by her candor.

  Krista turned her head to face him, and spoke with intensity. “I have gone as far as you dare, right here in your straight-laced uncle’s foyer. I have matched you in this game of touching, Ernst. I know you thought nothing of me before, and I knew I did not have much time to make an impression on you. But I have changed in everything but this: I still love you. I think I can be good for you, if you will let me. But I will let you go without a murmur, and not bother you again, if you can tell me right now that you will never, under any circumstances, love me back. Speak those words, Ernst, and you will be rid of me forever.” She gazed into his eyes, challenging him directly. Her thighs squeezed his hand.

  Ernst returned her gaze and opened his mouth. She had offered him exactly what he wanted. But he found that he could not speak the words. She was beautiful. She was ardent. His hand was captive between her legs, and his eyes were captive to hers. “You have not matched me, Krista, you have beaten me,” he confessed. “I am interested in you, now, and can not say I will never love you.”

  “Then will I be your Mädchen ?”

  He shrugged, not because of indifference, but because he had no way to deny her. “If you wish. For now.”

  She leaned over and kissed him. “Then I am yours. For now.”

  He remained surprised at this development, but oddly satisfied. His family would be pleased at the success of their ploy, but that was the least of it.

  Then there was the tread of someone approaching the foyer. They sprang apart as if there had been an explosion between them, and were abruptly decorous.

  CHAPTER 3

  SPAIN

  “I’ve got to do it,” Lane said.

  “But thee knows I can not support thee in this,” Quality protested. “To go needlessly to war—”

  “Would you prefer to have Hitler take ove
r all of Europe and then threaten America?”

  “I have no liking for the Nazis, as I have said. But there must be a better way than war. Even should it come, thee has better things to do than to get involved in the quarrels of others. Thee has another year to go to obtain thy degree. With that, thee could do far more good in the world than thee could ever do by pointless fighting.”

  “Not if Hitler overruns the world while I’m studying!”

  She paced the floor of the lounge. “We do not know that Hitler truly seeks world conquest, or that he could be successful if he tried. But if war should occur, there are others already under arms. Thee has no need to seek combat.”

  “How does that saying go?” Lane asked rhetorically. “All that is necessary for evil to flourish is for good men to do nothing.”

  “But thee can do something! Thee can complete thy education, and then work with greater effectiveness for peace in the world.”

  He gazed somberly at her. “You can’t concede that maybe prevention is better than cure?”

  “It is bad education that leads to much mischief. I prefer to deal with the underlying problems of society before they lead to war. Fighting is not prevention; it is a sign that the wrongness has proceeded too far. I would have preferred to have treated other nations in such manner that they never experienced the frustration that caused them to turn to their worst elements for salvation. Perhaps even now there can be amelioration and healing.”

  “I think it is way too late for that. Hitler is a cancer that will kill the body of Europe. Now he must be cut out, painful as the process may prove to be.”