Iron Gustav (19 page)

His finger approached the bell again – then the door opened.

‘Why in such a hurry?' asked the person who opened the door in a deep voice. ‘Herr Justizrat is not yet available. Oh, it's you, Erich. Come in. I'll tell him right away.'

‘I'll tell him myself!' shouted Erich and ran straight into the deputies' room.

The heavily built, swarthy man was reading a newspaper. ‘I don't want to be disturbed just now,' he said, but already recognized the disturber of the peace. ‘Oh, Erich! Erich in uniform! You've managed that very quickly! I hear the whole army is overrun with volunteers. Where have you ended up?'

‘In a reserve battalion in Lichterfelde. Three thousand registered and they took a hundred and fifty!'

‘Including you. Excellent. I always said: you'll manage to get whatever you really want. And so you wanted to show your uniform to us Red comrades. You look good! Smart – the height of Prussianism.'

‘I didn't come because I wanted to show myself in uniform! I'm not so stupid, Herr Doctor.'

‘Perhaps, Erich, it is not so stupid after all? It must be a fine feeling
for many to wear such a uniform. After all, you're defending us. You even want to die for us!'

‘Of course, I too am pleased to be a soldier. But really not because of the uniform!'

‘And the Prussian atmosphere – you like it? Screaming orders used to be like a red rag to a bull for you! Or is there no more screaming?'

‘Yes, there is,' admitted Erich. ‘It's horrible. Sometimes I can hardly control myself. And the screaming's not the worst, but the mocking and the bullying if someone can't do what he's supposed to! Some who've never done gymnastics really cannot do things … So they come under the hammer every day for hours on end.'

The politician looked attentively at Erich's excited face. ‘Now, my dear Erich,' he said. ‘I hope you can hold your tongue, Prussian-style. The war code is very strict, and rebellion is punished by death. I did once tell you you were really a rebel,' he added. ‘You will always rage against any compulsion, to the point of your own destruction.'

‘But now I can hold my tongue, Herr Doctor,' shouted Erich proudly. ‘You can do anything when it's worthwhile. I think all the time: for a quarter of a year we'll do training, then we get to the Front and can fight!'

‘Perhaps you'd rather come out, Erich. England's declared war on us now. Did you know already?'

‘England as well?' exclaimed the young man, upset. ‘But why? Our cousins of the same blood, and the Kaiser's a close relative. Why on earth?'

‘Because we've infringed Belgian neutrality. That's what they say. And we really have.'

‘But,' exclaimed the young man, ‘England's broken hundreds of agreements in its history! It never respected the law when it was a question of the rights of its own people. And now it's a question of our rights.'

‘They speak of Christianity and mean cotton!' quoted the Reichstag deputy, with a sinister smile. ‘They say Belgian neutrality and mean our fleet and our colonies.'

‘But England owns almost a fifth of the world. What do our few colonies weigh against that?'

‘A rich man is never rich enough. We're going to have a hard time, Erich. Get it clear in your mind that almost the whole world hates Germany.'

‘But why? We only want to live in peace …'

‘Because we're divided. Because they can never understand us. They always want to, but Germany, my boy, cannot be understood. You must love it or hate it.'

‘Yes,' said the young man, ‘now I know why I came here … I was right after all, Herr Reichstag Deputy, Herr Social Democrat! You love Germany too – because you also voted for the war credits, all of you, one after another.'

‘Yes,' admitted the parliamentarian, almost embarrassed. ‘We approved the war. The Reich Chancellor's speech was lamentable. He told us the truth, but not the whole truth. Much remained obscure …'

‘And you voted Yes!'

‘Austria's position is ambiguous. The Kaiser speaks of a Nibelung oath, but those we came to the aid of haven't yet declared war on Russia. The gentlemen in Vienna want to pursue their punitive little war against Serbia, and we've got to take on the rest of the world for them.'

‘And yet you said Yes!'

‘Yes, because we love Germany, Erich. Endless mistakes have been made by the Kaiser, by this philosophizing Chancellor – by everyone. But you can't leave a child in the lurch because of mistakes – or its mother … We voted Yes. We couldn't do otherwise. The whole people said Yes, Erich. And we didn't want to be different. Let's just hope against hope that our rulers will be different in war from what they were in peace …'

‘Everything will be different,' said Erich.

The parliamentarian looked doubtful.

‘You'll be doing square-bashing on the barrack parade ground, as ever, Erich. And behaviour in government offices won't change. Now the
will
and the
faith
of the people are
one
, and they'll stick together. If they don't use this moment, if they don't take up their positions without stupid arrogance at the Front – if they let this opportunity pass unused as well, then, Erich, a terrible time will come. Then everything will come apart, and their time will be over.
Today everyone believes in Germany, everybody loves Germany. But if they lose this belief, this love – what then? Perhaps never again.'

‘We will not lose them,' said Erich. ‘They can make us do square-bashing, they may be arrogant. But they don't count. There are only a few of them. When I hear them shouting on the parade ground, I always think it's my father. It's his way of shouting, his expressions. I hated it so much, it was so unbearable to me, that I often shook at the sound of his voice.'

He paused for a moment, and then said quietly: ‘Now I sometimes think he can't be any different. He's become like that. Deep down he loves us – in his own way.'

The parliamentarian shook his head a little. ‘That's an excuse
we
can't accept, Erich. Like that, you could excuse every injustice and nastiness. However, I observe you've undergone a remarkable transformation, my son. Something certainly is changing in the Germans. The most rigid party functionary is changing. And it isn't just ultra-patriotism. Long may it remain, Erich. And may you not miss the moment. Perhaps it will never come again.'

The Upper Third was in turmoil. Five minutes ago the bell had rung for lessons after the Long Interval but no master had yet arrived, which happened frequently in the period just after the outbreak of war. More than half the staff had been called up and the school was compelled to carry on with the aid of a few overworked assistant teachers unfit for service; the boys revelled in an unaccustomed freedom. The war, the victorious advances in Belgium and France, the military successes encouraged them to kick over the traces. They felt themselves members of an all-conquering nation: they were the sons and brothers of heroes. When flags were displayed, when church bells rang for the fall of Liège or Antwerp, that was also their glory, their success, their victory.

The pale, bespectacled assistant teacher from the adjoining classroom popped his head through the door and said imploringly: ‘Boys, boys!'

‘Be quiet a moment! He wants something!'

‘My brother wrote that in one cellar they found so many barrels of wine …'

‘Boys!'

‘Do be quiet.'

‘They simply knocked the bottoms out …'

‘Silence, I tell you! Silence!' The teacher was purple with rage.

‘Are
you
taking us, Herr Professor?'

‘No, but I should like to take the class next door and with the noise you are making that's quite impossible.'

‘Nobody is making any noise here.'

‘Who's making a noise? I'm not. You, Hans?'

‘You're the only one making a noise here, Herr Professor.'

‘You ought to be ashamed! You call yourselves Germans? A German lad does what he is told. Only those who have learned to obey can command.'

But the unfortunate man had struck the wrong note – they turned spiteful.

‘You've no right to give us orders.'

‘Why aren't you at the Front?'

‘At the Front you can order people about as much as you like.'

‘If you're unfit for active service you've got no say.'

The assistant teacher turned very pale. ‘To be ashamed,' he murmured. ‘It's horrible …'

He took a few steps towards the dais, thought better of it, turned quickly round and left the room.

For a moment there was an awkward silence – and they felt a little ashamed after all.

Then a voice shouted: ‘The German says Auf Wiedersehen and not Adieu.' Laughter. ‘Gott strafe England,' shouted another. More laughter. ‘And all teaching swine!' Thunderous applause. Two or three then started the song at that time on everybody's lips, the song of revenge:

What do we care for Russian or French?

Bullet for bullet and blow for blow
.

And more and more joined in till they came to the refrain, when all took it up, the boys marking time with the lids of their desks.

We have one foe alone – England!

‘Silence, please!' It was a quiet but very distinct voice from the dais.

In front stood their teacher, who had entered unnoticed during the singing – an elderly man with a high, bulging brow and a mane of red hair streaked with grey. His blue eyes flashed. Professor Degener, teacher of Latin and Greek, a pot-bellied little man, poorly dressed. ‘Go to your places!'

Shamefaced, they pushed themselves through the benches, cursing under their breath. ‘Make room, stupid.'

‘Stupid yourself – just don't go to sleep.'

‘You'll be for it!'

‘Oh lummy! If I get jankers, they'll throw the book at me.'

‘Degener's in a rage!'

‘The class has behaved atrociously,' said the teacher amid a deep silence. ‘Not only is it un-German to reproach someone else with a physical defect' – he spoke German as if he were translating from his beloved Latin – ‘but it is regarded as disgraceful by all the nations of the world, even by the English. Indeed, it is disgraceful anywhere. Herr Tulieb is suffering from an affliction of the lungs and ought to be in a nursing home. But he is instructing you instead, because at present there is a shortage of teachers. One can die for one's country in other ways than on the field of honour. Shame on you!'

He stood over them like a flame. They sat below. Some hung their heads, others looked glumly out of the window. A few, however, looked straight at the angry teacher.

‘Three of you,' said Professor Degener, ‘the three who regard themselves as the most guilty, will now repair to the next room and apologize to Herr Tulieb in front of his class. They will request him to forgive them. Understand, boys, this is to be no mere form of words but an expression of your guilt and repentance. Your repentance!' He looked round the class. ‘I shall leave you for five minutes.
During that time the class will decide upon the punishment to be self-imposed for its disgraceful behaviour.'

‘That's one to the jaw!' came a whisper.

‘Five minutes!' repeated the teacher, running his eye over his flock before hurrying out of the room, his little thin legs supporting his egg-like pot belly.

‘One up for the old beast!' someone said.

‘Choose your words, man,' said another, hitting the first boy on his biceps. ‘Degener's quite right. Who's going to apologize?'

They looked at one another, embarrassed.

‘Well, me to begin with,' said Hoffmann. ‘Then – how about you, Hackendahl?'

‘I don't mind. But I won't do the talking.'

‘I'll go too,' said Porzig.

‘No, not you, Porzig, you'll have to confer here about our self-punishment. But think of something that's going to satisfy Redhead – it'll have to be pretty stiff. You'd better be the third, Lindemann.'

They hurried away and knocked. ‘Come in,' croaked Tulieb. Then he recognized them. ‘Leave this room at once,' he cried.

The other class looked in delighted malice at the three penitents.

‘Hoffmann and Hackendahl in Canossa!' shouted someone quite loud. ‘Fetch some snow. It'll make kneeling cooler.'

‘Sir, we've come …'

‘Will you do what I tell you here, at least? Get out of this room! I don't wish to see you.' Herr Tulieb was not a magnanimous victor.

‘We behaved like swine,' said Hoffmann hoarsely. ‘We beg you to forgive us.'

‘Forgive you? That's easily said. You disparaged my honour.'

‘Do forgive us, Herr Tulieb,' cried Heinz. ‘From now onwards we'll behave decently.'

‘Will you?' Herr Tulieb smiled. ‘I want this class to look at you lads and take an example from the melancholy results of disobedience … You're not going to be let off as easily as this, however. Has Professor Degener punished you?'

‘No.'

‘Naturally – he has left it to me. I can see in your faces that you're the three ringleaders … You're to write out three hundred times the line
Sunt pueri pueri, pueri puerilia tractant
. Translate, you!'

‘Children will be children and do childish things,' said Heinz.

‘Children, yes! That's how I regard you. Now go!'

Silent and furious, the three boys stood in the corridor.

‘I could see you hesitating, Hackendahl,' whispered Lindemann. ‘You were absolutely furious.'

‘I certainly was! But I thought how as a soldier you had to let yourself be shouted at without pulling a face. I only wobbled a little.'