The boy in black, p.5
The Boy in Black, page 5
Oskar’s face contorted in confusion and boiling enmity.
‘On the other side? The other side? You know, you seem to be strangely guilty about killing someone who has no trouble in taking your life away! You’re a coward, Hans! A fucking coward!’
I paused for a moment, then lowered my voice. ‘I know.’
Oskar stood with his chest protruding, breathing heavily as he clenched his fists. His face had turned crimson. He pointed at me, but stood no closer. ‘And sometimes, I hope you die knowing it.’
As strong as I thought I was in situations like this, I couldn’t hold back the tears that began to well. Blinking profusely, I tried to stop but couldn’t. I kicked the ground and held my hands on the back of my head. Oskar attempted to approach me, his hand outstretched, but I stood back. I sat down on the ground and looked up at him.
‘I’m sorry, Hans. I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean it.’
‘Go and save them,’ I said with antipathy.
‘Hans…’ he said, with an air of sincerity.
‘Just go, Oskar!’
He sighed heavily and turned. Before he left, he turned his head halfway and said softly, ‘I’m sorry. I love you, brother.’
Then he was gone.
I was now alone, atop a hill on the edge of a bloody battlefield. The wind picked up and the bitter cold made me shiver. I sat with my knees against my chest, arms wrapped around my legs, immobilised at the horror that stood below me. I reached into the inside pocket of my jacket and pulled out a piece of paper, crinkled and ripped. I unfolded and read it.
My dearest Johan,
You have no idea how much you mean to me. You are my world, as is your sister. You doubt yourself, but doubt only holds us back from our dreams. I do not know what your dreams may be, but all I wish is happiness for you. I love you more than all of the stars in the heavens, and more than anything in this world. You are a beautiful young boy, but more importantly, you are my beautiful young boy. You are destined for something great, and your father and I will stand by your side. We have never been more proud. I love you, with all my heart.
Happy Bar Mitzvah.
Love forever,
Mother
My hands began to shake. The ink smudged as tears dropped on the paper. I held it tight and looked up, pursing my lips, and shutting my eyes tight. I had kept this letter since my bar mitzvah, and every time I felt that giving up was easier than moving forward, I would read that letter. It was so easy to give up, believe me I know. To let everything go, and yourself along with it. The hardest thing was coming back from something and doing it with the love that you want to do it with.
Life offers twists and turns, and strength never comes from others – it comes from yourself. I suppose that’s why my cowardice during war had never gone – because I let it stay. But my cowardice was that I couldn’t kill someone, and that’s never a bad thing – it just showed I’m as human as the next man.
Dear Father
Father,
Everything seems so hard without you. Sometimes, I would wake in the night, thinking your death was but a dream. But dreams can sometimes be beautiful, and this was reality. Having you gone is the hardest thing. I know I can never turn back time, but if I could, I would do it in an instant. I stood there and watched you die. I just stood there. I didn’t flinch, I didn’t move. I was a coward, and for that I am sorry. Father, I am so sorry. I should have run to you; I should have helped you.
Every night I look up, hoping you’re one of the stars looking down on me. And every night, I say sorry to you, for leaving you. Mother always said I was just a boy, that you would never expect me to be humiliated or hurt for you, but I wasn’t. I wasn’t a boy. I was a young man.
I still remember when you would swing me around, holding onto your arms tightly and trusting you not to let go. How you would smile and say, ‘We’re going into the sky, hold on!’ I would laugh, and I felt nothing could hurt me. You were my protector; you were my guardian. I knew that whenever I was with you, you would always make sure no harm would come to me, as would any father. But you were different.
The bullies that tormented me, you confronted. Instead of telling me, ‘You’ve got to be tough, son,’ you went to them. I don’t know what you did, or what you said, but they never bothered me from that day on.
You did everything you could to teach me to be a man. But not just any man. A man that had the qualities of kindness, of compassion. You were my everything, and I idolised you. It took me too long to accept that you had gone. I cried each night, months after it all happened, hoping you would walk through the door and hug me once more. But you never did. And I slowly learned to accept that it was the young naivety I cherished, but knowing I had to let it go. You taught me how to do that.
I don’t think I believe in God anymore; it’s hard to, after everything that has happened. I’m struggling and I have no one. And sometimes I have trouble believing in heaven, but I’d like to think there was, for people with a beautiful soul like yours. Please Father, please help me. Whether you’re in heaven, or in the stars, just tell me what I have to do. I have never felt so alone, and I have never felt so helpless. I let you down, but I hope you can forgive me. Somehow, I know you have. You’re that type of man, and I love you for it.
I love you, Father. Always.
Love,
Johan
Chapter 6
September 28, 1941
I felt disorientated as I got up. I lay on the ground and cried for a long time after I read the letter from Mother. Even as the tears dried up, I still wept inside. I thought about what Oskar said, and I knew that sitting up here, feeling sorry for myself, wasn’t going to make the problem go away. I stood up and walked down the hill, careful not to slip. Keeping out of sight of, not just the Russian soldiers, but my own fellow soldiers – so not to direct any negative speculation – I ran around our tanks with my head down.
I crouched behind a mound of dirt and rested my gun on the top. Oskar was far from where I was, and I didn’t want him to see me, as though I was trying to make a degrading point to him. Instead, I took a deep breath and looked down the scope of my gun. I fired it. The force of the gun pushed back onto my shoulder, and I let out a painful grunt. Come on, I mumbled to myself in annoyance. I watched the Russian soldiers running for cover, springing up whilst shooting, then diving again behind the mounds of earth.
I had a clear view of the whole battlefield and, more than once, I witnessed soldiers meet Death; I had witnessed it that many times, I was sure he was waiting upon that hill, feasting with his eyes as he watched it play out. I shot, and I killed. I killed more than one. I felt sympathy, but my natural habits of freezing my muscle movement and an overwhelming sense of remorse were almost non-existent. Instead, I writhed slightly with discontent, and then kept firing.
I took a deep breath. I watched one Russian soldier advance over the open grass field, toward one of our own men with his back turned. I aimed and pulled the trigger. The bullet travelled across the field and launched itself into the soldier’s left knee. He immediately fell, screaming in pain as he dropped his gun and clutched his knee. The soldier who had his back turned, was now approaching the screaming soldier, half crouched among the grass. When the German soldier raised his hand at the Russian soldier, I winced. My eyes were shut tight, and I turned my head. I then heard a voice next to me.
‘What the hell are you doing?’
I looked to my left to see a middle-aged soldier, with a dark brown moustache and a prickled beard, staring at me. He widened his eyes, pushing for an answer.
‘Wh-what do you mean?’ I asked.
‘Why are you turning your head like that? You should be looking straight at them, and firing that gun, not flinching. Pull the fucking trigger right between their eyes.’
‘I know, I just got hit by my gun while firing,’ I lied. ‘I was in pain.’
‘You’ll be in more pain if those Russians cross that field, son.’
I stared at him, as I said menacingly, ‘I am not your son.’
The man scoffed nervously. ‘I didn’t mean it like that.’
‘Then don’t say it,’ I said, raising my eyebrows.
Stunned, the soldier turned and continued firing into the battlefield. I heard him swear under his breath, calling me names I would rather forget. I studied him up and down for a moment, then turned and resumed watching the events unfold in front of me. We had defeated many of the Russian tanks, but they had resisted somewhat and taken out seven of ours already.
The tanks continued to trade gunfire, offering enough sound to deafen a child in an instant. Our soldiers had begun to dig trenches along the north side, and that’s when I knew we were going to be here longer than expected. We had begun building up our defences. The small contours on the land had offered minimal defence, but enough for a small attack from the Russians. Our soldiers were beginning to be outflanked, and we were feeling the defensive force of the Red Army.
‘Adler!’
I turned behind to see Sergeant Shödler approach me. ‘Sergeant Shödler, sir.’
‘You are to go to the west side of our defences. Help to dig our trenches there. They need more men.’ He then turned to the soldier next to me. ‘Gefreiter Luden, you will go to the east side and help the soldiers there. Understood?’
‘Yes, sir,’ we said as one.
We both got to our feet, half crouched, and went in opposite directions. I ran to the west side, where soldiers were strenuously digging the trenches that faced southward. One soldier turned and looked at me, as I stood awkwardly watching them work hard without saying a single word.
‘You.’ He stood up and pointed to me. ‘Drop your things and help here. We’ve been given enough covering fire to dig these trenches.’
I dropped my things and leant my gun against a mound. I jumped down, into the part of the trench that had already been dug and was given a pickaxe to hack at the earth. It was cold, but the work was enough to make me sweat within minutes of starting.
‘Keep digging, men! We need to get our trenches dug and show these Russian soldiers who’s going to win this!’
The yelling wasn’t as inspiring as the soldier who did it thought it would be; rather it was an incessant rambling of who’s the man with the most testosterone raging through his body or, enough to shoot bullets into those standing on the opposing side. I was able to ignore most of what was said, and instead focus on what I was meant to do.
Don’t give up. Don’t give in. Keep going. This is in your hands, and therefore you control it. If you give up, that’s when cowardice becomes your haunting friend. When you persevere, you laugh in the face of cowardice, and embrace change. So, I say to you, don’t give up.
I mumbled under my breath, keeping myself in control of what I was doing. It was hard work, and my small body, along with low energy levels, made for a mix of desperation and suspected failure. But I surprised myself as well as the other soldiers, as I dug deep, both literally and figuratively.
We had made progress along the north trench line. Our hard work was visible, and soldiers had begun to move into the trenches, out of sight of enemy gunfire. But our work was not the only thing that had progressed – the sun was beginning to set, creating a blanket of orange and pink over the sky, with dark grey clouds beginning to dominate the lower half.
A young soldier approached me, putting his hand on my shoulder. I quickly turned.
‘We’ve been told to relieve you. You’re to move north, behind the trenches for the night. Get some rest.’
I studied his face. ‘We have to keep going. We can’t stop now.’ I motioned to an untouched area, where the trench was to extend. ‘We’ve got too much to do.’
‘You need to rest. Hans, is it?’
I nodded. ‘Yes.’
He squeezed my shoulder. ‘Get some rest, Hans. You need as much as you can get.’
‘Okay, but make sure you finish the job.’ I was adamant.
He chuckled. ‘I will, don’t you worry. And you make sure you get some rest. Got it?’
The thought of him laughing because someone of my stature bellowed an order, irritated me, but I suppressed the feeling and replied, ‘Don’t worry, I will.’
We nodded and turned in opposite directions. I made my way northward, to where a few of the other soldiers had dropped back and where our command post was. There were trenches already dug here, in case our soldiers had to unexpectedly drop back. Tents were set up for the soldiers, but no fire pits had been made; my guess was because they would easily give away our position during the night.
I was walking toward the tents to the east side when I was called by an unknown voice.
‘Adler! Hans Adler!’
I turned to see a younger man, probably in his twenties, running toward me. He stood before me. He was extremely tall, over six feet, and his body bulged from his uniform. I stared at him for a moment, then replied, ‘Yes?’
‘You’re wanted in the commander’s tent.’ I sighed and looked up momentarily. ‘Is there a problem?’ he asked.
‘No,’ I said quickly. ‘Of course not. I’ll go now.’
He nodded and walked behind me, all the way to the commander’s tent. I felt uncomfortable. I could feel his constant presence near me but couldn’t see him. I arrived at the tent, but before I entered, the younger soldier, who had followed me, brushed past and stopped me, his hand on my chest.
‘Wait here,’ he said firmly.
When he turned, I pulled an infantile expression. It was a moment of immaturity, but by the way he had spoken to me, and for someone as young as he, to which I wasn’t accustomed, I had immediately taken a disliking to him. I knew I shouldn’t immediately judge as soon as he opened his mouth; he was probably just attempting to act more like a soldier than before.
I made sure to smile at him when he poked his head out of the tent and signalled me in. It didn’t go as expected; rather he just gave me a questionable look and then rolled his eyes.
I entered the tent, and before me was the commander sitting at a table facing directly toward the entrance, along with two other men. On his left sat a thin middle-aged man, with a long face that highlighted his protruding chin and sharp cheekbones. He had a long, curved nose, and his greasy brown hair was combed to one side. To his right was an elderly man, almost sickly-looking, who had a bleached white moustache down to his chin, and a large frame accompanied by a bulging stomach.
The commander looked at me. ‘Adler. This is Colonel Hirsch.’ He pointed to his left. ‘And this is General Koertig.’ He pointed to his right. I stood tall and saluted. ‘I’ve asked you in here to give a report on the battlefield. You’ve worked hard. What did you see?’
‘Me?’ I began to stutter. ‘What… what do you mean?’
‘Adler, I’m not blind. I saw you and Bauer make your way up that hill. You’re a smart and trustworthy soldier – an asset to us all. Now I’m asking you, what did you see?’
His voice was stern, something I hadn’t experienced before. I supposed he was doing it for show to the others present, but nevertheless, it scared me enough to begin sweating while the temperature had dropped fast since the sun had set. I had never been called an asset before, which made me more anxious. Was it naivety, or hopeful vanity that I be called such a thing?
‘The Russians have more tanks than we do, but only just. Their army was larger but guessing by the events I saw in the trenches, I would say their numbers have deteriorated, sir.’ I took a deep breath and stared at them while I waited for a nod or any sign of life. None of them did. They kept waiting for me. ‘I… I think that’s it.’
‘That’s it?’ General Koertig spoke up. ‘You were on that hill for a lot longer than usual, and that’s all you have to say? An asset to us, you say, Commander? Was that an attempt at humour, or genuine drivel dripping from your mouth? What exactly were you doing up there?’
Looking down at my feet, I closed my eyes and inhaled. I then exhaled slowly. Breathe.
‘I went up there to…’ I thought about what I was going to say. ‘I went up there to get a clear view of the Russians’ movements, but I was distracted.’
‘Who ordered you up the hill?’
‘I didn’t have any orders, sir.’ I knew I was treading dangerous ground and thought rapidly. ‘It was too chaotic at the time.’
‘What made you decide that a walk up a hill was a better tactic than firing on the enemy?’
Beads of sweat slowly dripped from my brow, but I suddenly became inspired.
‘Sir, the enemy tactics in the other battles were to attack us on one side, while a flanking group used the distraction to come at us from another. When I looked round, I realised we couldn’t see over the hill, which meant the enemy could be creeping up to catch us by surprise. There was no time, and no supervising officer nearby to tell, but I felt it was important to know whether the enemy were approaching over the hill or not.’
General Koertig nodded, seeming to be satisfied by this, allowing me to relax a fraction.
‘I see,’ he began. ‘Appropriate thinking in what could have been a disastrous situation. But you said you were distracted – by what, exactly, Private Adler?’ Colonel Hirsch had remained silent throughout the whole questioning process.
What was I supposed to say? I thought for a moment. ‘Oskar Bauer.’
‘Private Bauer? What did he do to distract you?’ Colonel Hirsch finally spoke. His voice was deep, almost menacing. He stared at me with his head tilted slightly downward, and I could feel his eyes studying me. He knew if I was lying, he could tell.
