Volk

  “You could be an officer in the SS,” she pointed out.

  “With my incomplete education? Without NPEA or national service? I fear they would laugh me right out of the SS if I applied.”

  “But you have qualifications,” she insisted. “Your father is a Party member with good connections. He could get you a commission.”

  That was possible, Ernst realized. But he wasn’t satisfied. “I prefer to earn my own place, if I can.”

  “That’s not the way it works,” she argued. “You have to have connections. No one gets anywhere by merit alone. Do you think you were given command of your Youth group because of your ability or enthusiasm? Your father pulled a string, as mine did for me.”

  He sighed. It was true. Merit alone was not enough, because there were many meritorious young men and women. “Still, this is not an aspect of the system I like.”

  They entered a shelter. For the moment they were out of sight of anyone else, and unlikely to be disturbed by surprise. “You have to use what you have,” she said, drawing him inside and into a corner. She pressed herself against him. “I did not like having to wheedle my father into making your father invite me to your house, but I did. I did not like letting you paw me, in order to get your attention, but I did. Because it was the only way. You don’t have to like what you have to do to get your commission, but it’s the only way. So do it.”

  “I am intrigued by your logic, but not convinced.”

  She took his hand and pressed it against her blouse, and the firm breast beneath. “What must I do to convince you?”

  She had succeeded in startling him again, but he did not try to draw his hand away. That was a very fine and intriguing surface he felt. Her device might be crude, but it was effective. “You already have my attention, Krista; you don’t have to let me paw you any more.” Was she conscious of his irony? This time she was in effect pawing herself. Her objection was verbal, not literal.

  “This time I want you to do what is right. I’m sure you don’t want me to sully myself in the effort.” She pressed his hand in more securely. The delight of that soft, intimate, suggestive contact leaped from his hand to his heart, making it beat as hard as if he were running. It was hard to maintain his equilibrium.

  Was she making a promise, if he agreed to her way? It was persuasive, since he had already concluded that her course was the one he would have to follow. “Then I shall have to agree with you,” he said. “But if this is your manner of persuasion, I hope to find many more differences to reconcile.”

  She smiled. “Perhaps, in good time.” Then she gently drew his hand away and kissed him.

  She had of course been trying to make a further impression on him, so that he would not be interested in other feminine company. She was succeeding. He knew better than to let himself fall in love with her, but she did excite and fascinate him, as she intended.

  • • •

  So it was that Ernst assembled the papers and made application for an officer’s commission in the SS. Herr Best put in a quiet word where it counted, and in due course the word came: Ernst had been granted a provisional status of Untersturmfhrer, second lieutenant, in the SS, if he completed training successfully.

  Of course it wasn’t as simple as that. He still had two years of military service to do before receiving any such promotion. He would have to start in the SS VT, though he hoped not to remain there. But it did mean that his course was marked, and that it was a good one.

  In July he reported to the local SS station for training. Krista gave him a most passionate embrace and kiss, straining the limits of propriety, for it was in the sight of their families as they saw him to the building. But no one was in a position to protest, for Ernst was a good Nazi young man doing his duty, and Krista was a good Nazi young woman encouraging him in that, and their families were pleased that the two of them were keeping company. Anyway, their opportunities for further physical contact would be quite limited for the next few months.

  He was issued a fine black SS uniform without patches; he was thus without rank or association. His belt buckle had an eagle, a swastika, and the SS motto “My honor is loyalty.”

  He was given a bunk in the dormitory, and instructed in the protocol of the facility. He had no problem with it; it was similar to his experience in the Hitler Youth.

  Indeed, though he entered training well along in the annual cycle, he received a provisional SS pass, and was able to comport himself well. This was because not only had he had excellent prior experience, the instructors knew that an exception had been made for him because of a Party connection. They suspected that he was marked for some special service, and they wanted him to remember them with favor if his path crossed theirs at some later time. They knew that Reinhard Heydrich, the “blond beast” who commanded the SS, had once been cashiered as a naval officer, and now was possibly the most feared man in Germany. Surely the rotten bones of certain naval officers were trembling now! So, just in case Ernst Best was going any similar direction, they took care.

  There was camping and marching and discipline, and Ernst enjoyed it. He was not a squad leader, having come in too late, but he was competent and dependable, and the squad he was in did well. He had to scramble to complete the qualifications for his sports badge, being short of time. It wasn’t possible simply to take the examinations; he had to be personally trained by the certified instructors. Still, he managed to do well enough, because of his prior experience.

  Grenade throwing was new to him, however, because these were live. That made all the difference. One of the others armed his grenade and dropped it; the instructor immediately picked it up and hurled it into the field. That was why those in training were not allowed to proceed alone. Ernst himself performed without error, but still felt uneasy. These things were dangerous! They were called “egg” grenades, because of their shape; there was a cap to be unscrewed, which gave access to a string; when the string was pulled, detonation occurred after five seconds. The ones they used had blue caps; they were warned that if they ever saw one with a red cap, to leave it alone, because it would have a one second fuse. That was the kind left behind for the enemy to find.

  He also learned the SS catechism:

  Why do we believe in Germany and the Führer?

  Because we believe in God, we believe in Germany which He created in His world, and in the Führer, Adolf Hitler, whom He has sent us.

  Whom must we primarily serve?

  Our people and the Führer, Adolf Hitler.

  Why do you obey?

  From inner conviction, from belief in Germany, in the Führer, in the Movement and in the SS, and from loyalty.

  It was easy for Ernst, because he needed no catechism to bolster his belief and loyalty. The ritual was beautiful and true.

  The only thing that bothered him was religion. Ernst belonged to the Church, and his family had always belonged. He was not a devoted member, and there were things about religion he questioned, but he preferred that membership be a matter of personal decision rather than dictated by the state. Yet the candidates were pressured to renounce the Christian messages of tolerance and reconciliation as an effeminate, un-German, and even “Jewish” doctrine.

  Each day on the drill field the command was given: “Anyone who has not yet left the Church take one step forward.” The first day half the candidates stepped forward, Ernst among them. They were harangued for their backwardness and given disciplinary duties.

  The next day when the call was made, only a quarter of the candidates took that step. Ernst remained among them.

  So it continued from day to day, until only a handful remained. Ernst knew it would be easier not to take the step, because he really did not care that much about the Church. But he still did not like being forced to renounce it.

  Then one day the other five candidates were put on adverse duty, but Ernst was excused. He went to the commander and inquired. “You are marked for better things,” the officer told him. “The others are
hopeless.”

  Ernst realized that the string his father had pulled was having further effect. If the authorities bore down on him too hard, or tried to drive him out, there could be unpleasant consequences for them. So they were excepting him.

  But he refused to accept this. “If the others have done wrong, I have done the same,” Ernst said firmly. “I must be punished in the same manner they are.”

  The man gazed at him for a long moment. “It is not your prerogative to establish company policy,” he said. “Dismissed.”

  Ernst had to go, because he could not disobey a direct order. But instead of reporting back to his unit for regular activities, he went to the punishment detail. No one questioned this; it did not occur to the sergeant in charge that anyone would seek punishment he had not been assigned.

  The word must have spread, however, because next morning there was no call-out. The remaining church members were allowed to proceed with the regular program.

  Later, the sergeant who had been in charge of the punishment detail came to the barracks and paused at Ernst’s bunk. “You have courage,” he remarked, and moved on. But Ernst caught the momentary, tiny twitch of his lips. The man was pleased.

  No one else said anything to him. But the subtle respect with which Ernst was treated increased. He had won the day, in a certain fashion.

  On November 7 Ernst and the other candidates from all across Germany went south to Munich for the swearing in ceremony. But something strange and significant happened while they were traveling.

  “Did you hear?” another candidate on the train demanded breathlessly. “Ernst von Rath has been shot by a Jew!”

  Ernst thought at first that he was being teased, because of the first name. He had no idea who the victim was. But in the course of the following day, as they reached Munich and found their barracks, it came clear: he was the third secretary of the German Embassy in Paris. He was not a nationally known figure, but Goebbels, the minister of Propaganda, was spreading the word throughout Germany. A prominent leader had been treacherously murdered by the foul Jews!

  Ernst was neutral concerning the Jews. He knew that Hitler did not like them, and Hitler’s logic in Mein Kampf was persuasive. But Ernst had seen in America that Jews could be much like any other people. So it seemed best to move them out of Germany and have no further quarrel. But if they were now murdering government officials, that made the matter more serious. So he paid attention, and learned the background of this episode.

  It seemed that one Herschel Grynspan was a Jew whose parents had been forcibly relocated to the Polish border, in accordance with the program to move Jews elsewhere. Rather than accept the situation, it was suggested, he had assassinated the official who had made the decision. Of course Grynspan would be dealt with. Ernst knew that these things happened. But von Rath was in critical condition, and it was doubtful whether he would live. That was unfortunate for him.

  But why was Goebbels making so much of this? It was as if the Jews had bombed Berlin and killed the Führer! Anger was building up throughout Germany. What was Goebbels up to?

  However, Ernst had more important things to focus on. He had to be perfect for the ceremony on the ninth. It was the anniversary of the Munich “Beer Hall Putsch” of 1923, when Adolf Hitler and his Nazis invaded a political meeting in their attempt to seize the Bavarian government. But the people did not support the Nazis then, and the troops of the government opened fire as the Nazis marched into the heart of Munich, killing sixteen. Hitler and other leaders were tried and imprisoned. But though their effort was a failure, it attracted a great deal of attention to the movement, and thereafter it grew. So in the longer view, it really had not been a failure, but a necessary step.

  Ernst was among those who watched the solemn ceremony as the remaining survivors of the Munich Putsch silently re-enacted their march through the city. Fifteen years had passed, but the solemn memory had grown rather than fading. Today the sixteen martyrs were interred in state in the colonnaded Temple of Honor beside the ill-famed beer hall. The survivors marched by it, followed by a phalanx of those who had received the “Blood Order” award. Ernst felt a tear at his eye as the procession silently passed. This was a fitting recognition of those who had risked or given their lives on behalf of Nazism in the troubled early years.

  Adolf Hitler himself was in Munich with the “Old Guard” leaders for the traditional dinner celebration in the town hall after the ceremonial re-enactment of the Munich Putsch. But in the afternoon the news came that Ernst von Rath was dead. It was reported that the Führer left the hall, visibly upset, without giving his address. Goebbels had to fill in. He gave a rousing speech urging the Old Guard fighters to start spontaneous demonstrations throughout Germany.

  That evening was the official swearing in, at the Beer Hall itself. But as they marched there, they heard shouting and saw crowds roving through the streets. There was the smell of smoke. What was happening?

  The commander halted the troop. “There are riots in the city,” he announced. “Loyal citizens are destroying the property of the Jews.” He scowled. “I have no sympathy for Jews, of course, but I dislike allowing mobs to rule. Our troops are forbidden to take any notice, either to participate or to resist the activity. Therefore we shall march on past without observing anything.”

  The march resumed. They went right past a store whose broad glass front had been smashed in, and whose contents had been strewn half across the street. “Looters!” the commander muttered with deep disgust, but the march did not pause.

  By the time they reached the Beer Hall, the directive to restore order had gone out. The police were finally in the process of protecting Jewish property and businesses, and arresting looters. But of course it was too late; the damage of what was to become known as Crystal Night had been done.

  The ceremony itself was deeply moving. It was by torchlight in front of the hall, and on each of the sixteen smoking obelisks was the name of one of the martyrs of National Socialism. A voice intoned each one of those names, and was answered by the chant of a thousand voices: “Here!”

  Ernst felt the tears in his eyes again. Surely those heroes were indeed here in spirit, and had not died in vain.

  I swear to thee Adolf Hitler

  As Führer and Chancellor of the German Reich

  Loyalty and Bravery

  I vow to thee and to the superiors whom thou shalt appoint

  Obedience unto death

  So help me God

  Ernst received his collar patches and permanent SS pass. Now he was ready to complete his term in the SS VT, before becoming a “full candidate” and taking the final oath to obey the law restricting marriage that the Reichführer SS had issued. He was granted leave, and went home to renew acquaintance with his family and Krista.

  • • •

  “You are so handsome in your dress uniform!” Krista exclaimed in the company of their families. “Let me take you out on the streets of Wiesbaden and show you off to all my friends.”

  But when she got him away from home, she took him instead to the park, which was deserted at this hour. In the shelter they had paused at before, she embraced him and kissed him passionately. “You really are stunning,” she breathed. “We have so little time together.”

  He smiled. “Most of our association has been apart, anyway.”

  She drew her blouse from her waistband. “But much can be accomplished briefly.”

  What was she up to this time? “There is something to be accomplished?”

  She took his hand and put it against her breast, under the loose blouse. The touch was electrifying. “There is something I want from you, Ernst.”

  “I fear it is something I will not want to give, or you would not be taking this approach.”

  She let his hand go and reached behind her back. Something loosened. Then she took his hand again and moved it to bare flesh. She had undone her halter. “I want to marry you,” she said.

  Yet again she had startled
him. “Marriage! I’m not ready for that!”

  “When you are allowed. I know you must complete your training. But when you do—”

  “Krista, I love the feel of your flesh. But that is not reason to marry. The commitment—”

  “I will give you the feel of all my flesh,” she said evenly. “All that you want. Immediately. Here. If you will agree.”

  He was suspicious of this, despite the amazing effect of her breast in his hand. “Why?”

  “Because I love you, as I always have.”

  He gave her a little squeeze, not so much for the pleasure of it but as a negation. “Your love is qualified. I ask again: why marriage?”

  “As the wife of an officer, I will have status. I will not have to endure more training or to take some dull job to support myself. I will not have to remain in this dull town.”

  “You could marry some other officer.”

  “Oh come on, Ernst!” she snapped. “I gave you a practical reason because you asked for it. You’re the only man I want. I’m afraid you will go away and meet someone else, who won’t be as good for you.” She took his hand again and moved it down to her waistband.

  “So you will make a down payment on me now, to secure me for later marriage,” he said. It did make a certain sense. It was not that he might meet another woman, but that she might not meet another man who suited her fancy.

  “Anything you want, if you will commit,” she agreed. She used her free hand to draw the waistband out, and started his hand down under it.

  “But I might get shipped far away for years,” he protested. “Perhaps killed. Where would you be then?”

  “Then at least I will have had your love for this moment.”

  He stopped his hand. “No.”

  “I will do it,” she argued. “You do not have to take my word. Everything is yours. Only promise.”