Men of Snow (10 page)

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.

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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 were 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.

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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.’

Franz took his men across the road in single file, down a ditch and along the edge of a line of trees that lead to the first buildings of the village.

He ducked into a crouch, fully conscious of what he was doing. His awareness was a part of the excitement he felt.

As they came to the first fence around some kind of small holding he held up his hand to stop the line. He had never felt so physically and mentally alert, totally focused. These were his moments. He was defined by them.

He could hear his breaths and the shuffling of his men, could hear a few hens and a goat bleating somewhere. He could smell the grass and a pile of wood chippings near a shed that was leaning to one side, shafts of light coming through the gaps between its rough slats of wood.

Franz glanced at his watch as more planes droned through the blue sky directly above them. The sun was making him sweat. Momentarily he wondered about Steiner, how they had come to be in the same action. 

Behind the shed he could see part of the village street and an upper window of a house that had a white sheet hanging out of it.

His legs were beginning to ache in their bent position. For an instant he was unsure as to whether they should stay where they were and wait.

Sturmann, his corporal, joined him.

‘Sir, a few of us could go round the farmhouse and see what there is.’

Franz tilted his head to look at this twenty three year old soldier, half his face shadowed under his helmet.

‘Carefully then, no charging in, just very slowly. This place is too quiet.’

He watched Sturmann and three others as they went along beside the fence and then disappeared around the end of the shed, their bodies all leaning slightly to one side.

A few seconds later came the first gun fire.

Franz and the rest of his men squeezed through the wooden fence and in a crouched run crossed the area of rough grass, down the side of the farm house to the corner of the only street.

The firing had stopped and again he could hear the hens, a distant plane, the buzzing of insects, could feel the sweat trickling down his face and his feet already heating up in his thick socks and boots.

The street was heavily rutted between a few low built houses that had their shutters closed except for the one upstairs window with the sheet hanging out.

With quick hand signals he had his unit divide and start down both sides of the street. Then at his command they started kicking open doors and firing a quick burst into each house before moving to the next.

It was then he noticed Sturmann and the three others laid out near the last building at the end of the street.

He signalled for his men to stop and keep low.

He could see the blood of the fallen men pooling over the dry baked mud of the road. Sturmann had his mouth slightly open with his teeth sticking out. It appeared he had been shot several times in the chest.

A whistle blew as the unit from the other side of the village came under fire.

‘Keep moving forward!’ Franz called, ‘Forward but steady.’

As they came to the last corner the bullets started whining around them.

‘Take cover! Cover!’ was his next command before he shouldered in a door, half falling into what was a small kitchen.

It was dark and smelling of animals and burnt fat. He pushed over a table to get to the window, smashing through the shutters and glass.

Suddenly he was alone as outside the firing became intense from both sides of the street. An explosion ripped a louder sound, its reverberations creating a fall of dust from the kitchen’s old beams.

He tasted it in his dry mouth, smelt the mixture of old cooking and animal dung, felt the machine gun shake as he fired off a burst through the shattered window.

He noticed two of his men rush out from one of the houses across the street and immediately come under fire that had them scrambling back inside.