The Children's War (8 page)

She landed in about a foot of water and sludge and swore angrily. The old passage had been disconnected from the city’s system years before, after massive construction on the street, and she had not expected there to be more than a few inches of seepage in the tunnel. The mud had splashed her uniform and seeped into her boots, and now she would spend the rest of the time freezing cold and miserably wet. She trudged for a short distance along the sewer, swearing the entire time, until she came to the opening that she was seeking. It let her up and into the subbasement of another building, a government records office. As far as she knew, there was no direct access from that building into its cellar, and the little room was entirely cut off from the city above. That, however, was not the room’s attraction. It’s advantage lay in its location: directly next to and below an annex of the
Reichssicherheitshauptamt
—the headquarters of the Reich’s security apparatus.

In the tiny, abandoned subbasement had been placed a large wooden crate, securely locked and labeled with dire government warnings that it must not be touched or disturbed in any way whatsoever. Julia went to the box, checked the seal, and then unlocked it. Inside, it waited quietly for her gentle touch. She stroked the cold metal, breathing a sigh of relief as she did so. She inspected the data recorder, noted the readings, and then with the tenderness of a lover, began to remove the cover plate and replace the detonator with the upgraded model that she had brought with her.

As she worked, her hands were steady, her thoughts calm. There was something so satisfying in tending her terrible machines of death, or as she thought of them, her guarantors of life, that only when she was working with them did she feel at peace and unafraid.

She finished the exchange, changed a few settings, and after replacing everything, returned the way she had come. In the boiler room, she brushed off her uniform, wiped the mud from her boots, and headed back into the store. She went to a back exit, unhooked the alarm, and walked out the door without anyone
noticing. Back on the street, she breathed deeply, sending out a little cloud of steam into the night sky. One down, six to go.

The next three caused no difficulty, and she accomplished them in a matter of days. After that she went to work at the
Reichsuniversität.
She presented her papers to the secretary in charge of the library and indicated that she had been told to start work that morning helping out with the filing of archives. The university was sufficiently hierarchical that nobody thought to question the largesse, and grateful for the extra help, the secretary put her to work immediately. Julia planned to stay long enough to establish a presence, and then, when she had completed her work, she would be properly reassigned, thus leaving without causing any awkward questions to be raised.

The university itself was not a target, at least not one that Julia was assigned to, but there were laboratories in an institute associated with the university in which weapons research was carried out, and those were. For the quick work that Julia wanted to do, there was no point going through the mess of getting herself vetted and assigned directly to the laboratories. It was sufficient to be an accepted presence at the university and to await an appropriate opportunity.

Over the next several weeks, Julia finished the last two jobs and finally had an opportunity to enter the institute and access the deterrents that were hidden there. Everything went smoothly, and when she presented the library secretary with her transfer papers, she could smile with genuine pleasure as she expressed her sorrow at leaving such a friendly workplace and said that she hoped to return soon.

She was still smiling as she boarded the train leaving Berlin. Hours later, changing trains in Breslau, she shivered in the cold night air as she hustled from one platform to the next. She climbed aboard the train to Krakau and found a comfortable seat near a window. As the train sped off, she stared out into the night, watching the city as it unfolded past her. Darkness returned as they headed into the surrounding countryside, but then on the outskirts of the town the night was illuminated by the sprawling mass of a huge military installation. Julia was unable to stop herself from expertly scanning the complex for useful information, but of course there was nothing in sight of the train, just residences and the prison. She wondered briefly what was going on inside those walls, but then they were gone from view and her mind turned to other thoughts. She snuggled into her seat, opened a book and read, but she did not really pay attention to the words; rather she let them drift past her in a meaningless jumble of images.

11

T
HE WORDS WERE MEANINGLESS.
They came at him in tidal waves, slamming violently into his brain, but he ignored them and let them wash past. His
thoughts remained undamaged by the propaganda, by the idiocy they ranted at him. He heard the train whistle and he felt a surge of joy; it gave him a chance to be distracted by thoughts of that other world, the world where normal people rode on trains. He had looked forward to hearing it and was pleased that he had not miscalculated the time.

They were commanded to repeat something, and he let his voice join the othersas they shouted slogans and praise for the Reich. He bore the tedious humiliation stoically, letting his mind wander freely, sure that his demeanor and shouting would not betray the fact that he was not mentally present to even hear the words pounded into his brain. Sometimes at night, though, the words would come back to him and he knew then that they were making progress in the battle of his will against theirs.

The evening indoctrination was part of a routine. The days were spent working: from early in the morning until late in the evening he worked. Whether it was shoveling gravel or breaking stones or polishing someone’s silverware, he worked. There were manufactories on the site, and sometimes he was assigned to those. Sometimes not. The only pattern was that each day, whatever he did, he worked, sometimes alone, always in silence.

He saw the other prisoners only at certain times of the day: when they were permitted to empty their buckets, when they stripped and were searched for lice or whatever, when they received their work orders. They were not permitted to talk to or even look at each other, and so they remained in a cowed silence, only ever daring to speak when commanded to at the indoctrinating lectures. These were held in the evenings, after a long day’s work, and consisted of hours of rants and forced chants. They stood together in straight lines—men and women, but no children—in a small auditorium, staring forward, never looking either to their right or their left, never speaking a word except to shout slogans on command.

Once in a while the evening lecture routine was interrupted by a one-on-one visit with a staff psychiatrist. They seemed keen to look into his mind and study his responses, and he was put through a battery of psychological tests, drug therapies, and interviews. He did not know if this was usual or if he had been singled out, but in any case he lied consistently and outrageously. He did not know whether they noticed or expected such behavior, nor did he care: it amused him to play games with them just as they did with him, and that reason alone sufficed.

Besides the work and the interviews, there were punishments: for misbehavior,for showing independent thought, for speaking, for stepping out of line, for showing disrespect, for not working sufficiently hard, for any number of things and for nothing at all. It was part of the indoctrination of worthlessness. The punishments varied from being slapped or hit or kicked or punched to being tortured, but he was fairly adept at avoiding them.

“You’ve always been good at putting on an act,” Allison said, and he smiled in
response. He did not know for sure how she had meant it, but he took it as a compliment. It had certainly helped to get him and his friends out of trouble more than once. He lingered on that thought, on Allison, on his friends, on their good times as they had walked arm in arm through the street singing rowdy, illegal songs on their way home from the pub. At times like those, when they had brazenly snubbed the authorities, when he had constructed outrageous excuses with a straight face and managed to placate an irate patrolman, when they had had to cover their mouths to contain their laughter—at times like those, it had felt as if they ruled the night.

A whistling sound snapped his attention back to the auditorium. For the briefest moment he thought it was the train again, but then he felt the sharp pain of braided leather tearing through his shirt and cutting his skin. He swallowed a cry of pain, and suppressing an instinct to turn and confront his attacker, he immediately joined in the chant of praise for the Reich that he had so carelessly failed to shout.

He waited tensely for the next stroke, but to his great relief there was none. He had only just mentally sighed his relief when a baton was tapped against the back of his neck, pulling him out of line. He followed the wordless directions that, with taps and jabs, sent him out of the auditorium, down a hallway, and into an empty room. The entire room was white: floor, ceiling, walls. There were no windows and no furniture; the only relief from the stark whiteness was that somebody’s blood was spattered on the floor and on the walls. He looked up and was relieved to see that none was on the ceiling. He stood alone there, waiting and wondering at the severity of his punishment for such a minor offense as daydreaming.

After a long time, the officer who seemed to be responsible for his reeducation entered the room. The officer brought a handkerchief to his nose, holding it there, as if in defense against the smell, and studied him. Suddenly, the officer pulled away his handkerchief and snapped, “Eyes down! You’re in the presence of a superior! You know that!”

He dropped his gaze to the floor.

“The psychiatrists have observed you over this past month,” the officer informed him as he pulled a sheet of paper out of his breast pocket and unfolded it. “Their summary tells me that you have consistently exhibited appropriate responses to stimuli, that you have rapidly learned all that has been put to you, that you have had a minimal failure rate, and that on the rare occasions of inappropriate behavior, you have accepted punishment without protest.”

He felt a glimmer of hope.

“In other words,” the officer sneered, “they think you’re ready.”

He looked up with interest, holding his breath in anticipation.

The officer looked at him for a long moment, then said quite casually, “They’re fools. I know you’re not.”

He let his breath out slowly. He had to swallow as the meaning of the officer’s words sank in.

The officer began pacing. “You think you can fool everyone, you think that by playing along, we’ll figure you’ve learned your lessons. But I know; I can tell. You’re not ready, not at all. You still think it’s a game, don’t you?”

An image of Allison’s shattered body came to mind and he shook his head, replied ruefully, “No, I know it’s for real.”

The young man walked up to him and reached out to touch his monthlong growth of hair. “You think this makes you different, this blond hair.”

“No,” he said in response to the officer’s touch.

The officer misunderstood. “Oh, yes, you do. Your blue eyes, your blond hair, your fancy language—you think you’re one of us! You think you’re special! But you’re just as foul as any long-nosed Jew. Worse even, because you’re a traitor and you choose to be what you are.”

He did not respond and the young man spun away to continue his lament, more to the walls than to his captive audience. “Four years! Good God, nearly four years in a labor camp and look what they managed to come up with. They haven’t a clue about discipline! How in God’s name do we let such things happen?”

Still he could think of no cogent response, so he remained silent. His trainer walked back up to him, grabbed his sleeve, crumpling the insignia in his fist. “Look at this profanity! Criminal, ha! Whatever they had to hide with you, we all know what you are, you pervert. You may have escaped being marked for what you are, but I’ve read your file, I know, and I don’t want you alive in the same world with my children.”

Knowing that it was his own words that had condemned him to this man’s judgment, he did not debate the charge; instead he said, “I’ve done you no harm.”

The officer sputtered, “Harm! Your very existence fouls this planet, and we’d all be better off with you dead. You disgust me!”

He considered for a moment telling the truth to the officer. He regretted his cover story now and he doubted that revealing the existence of blackmail information against the
Kommandant
would have caused his comrades too much difficulty, but it was too late. The officer would not believe him and would certainly not change his opinion even if he did. Indeed, if he revealed that he had convincingly lied under interrogation, then he might never win his freedom from this hellhole. With that in mind, he tried a different approach. Summoning up every bit of acting ability that he had, he said, “I admit my actions in the past have been evil, but I can change. Please give me a chance.”

“Change!” his trainer mocked. “A snake remains a snake and a pig remains a pig. You’re a swine. You have these misleading physical traits, your hair, your eyes, but I’m not that naive, I’ve handled your type before. Many of you have had to be crushed.” He closed his fist as if crushing something. “You are not the first nor will you be the last. You have ideas about yourself and therefore it will take a little longer to beat some respect into you, but believe me, we will do it, because it’s your natural place to serve at our feet. We are the master race, we are the
Übermensch!
You are born to serve and we are born to rule and you will only attain true peace and happiness when you realize that. It is written—”

“You know,” he interrupted impatiently, “you could at least read what you are wont to quote. You do know how to read, don’t you?” Even as he said it, he regretted his reckless outburst. When, he wondered, would he ever learn to keep his mouth shut?

The officer walked right up to him and struck him. “So you cannot help but show your true colors! I’ve known it all along! I was right! They’ve gone easy on you because they like you, because they thought you were civilized, but that’s going to change. They’re not in control, I am. You
Engländer,
I have no respect for you or your people! Their methods have failed and now it is my turn. You see, I know there is a type of person, snakes like you, who learn early in life to lie and camouflage themselves and to get by in any situation. Over and over again they deceive everyone with their acts, but as soon as the pressure is off, they return to their native habits. They never learn. They can’t learn. There is nothing to do but remove them entirely.”

He looked at his tormentor questioningly.

The officer laughed. “No, I don’t mean that I have to kill you. I have better methods than that. I’m going to remove every trace of your personality. You’re going to feel so much pain, you will be so disoriented, that you’re just going to leave and there will be nothing left but a very well-trained body. By the time I am through with you, you will truly regret your behavior, or rather, you won’t even be capable of such behavior.”

“Mein Herr,
I’m not like that. I can learn. Forgive my mistakes, please . . .”

“Ha! Good try!” the officer scoffed. Then tapping him gently on the skull, the officer explained, “You see, you’re still in there. That won’t do. As long as you’re in there, you will stay in here.”

The intelligent and cultured young man then turned on his heel and headed toward the door. He opened it and two men entered. One carried shackles, the other a heavily laden burlap bag. As the two men tromped in, the young officer hissed a warning to them under his breath, then turning to smile at him, said, “You like games, see how you like this one.”