Iron Gustav

  ‘Are you on your own, Father? Where’s old Rabause?’

  ‘What do I want him for now? With two horses? Even if the war finished I wouldn’t have any work for you either. You’re lucky to have your war.’ Again he laughed, grimly.

  Otto sat beside him, next to the beaten man. The blue coat hung loosely on the once robust figure; the formerly solid-looking face was flabby. Otto could recollect his father as a respected visitor to the bars in the Alexanderplatz, but here nobody looked at him, nobody listened to what he had to say – he was only an old cabman nodding over his glass of beer. A stricken man – and I’m going to strike him still harder, thought Otto.

  ‘You’ve moved, Father?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, I’ve moved. How d’you like the house?’

  ‘I haven’t been there yet, Father.’

  ‘No? I suppose you were on your way. Where’s your things?’

  ‘I haven’t got them with me. This time I’m staying elsewhere.’

  ‘So you’re stayin’ elsewhere. All right, then.’ Old Hackendahl gave his son a penetrating glance. All at once he was very wide awake and suspicious.

  ‘The house, you know,’ he said abruptly in his best German, ‘… I exchanged the yard for it. I don’t need a yard with only two horses. And now I’ve a five-storey apartment house and the horses are in a workshop five steps up. But that doesn’t worry them.’

  ‘Father, just a moment! I’ve wanted to tell you this for a long time, even before the war …’

  ‘There’s plenty of time. Perhaps it can wait till after the war, anyway. As I say, my place in the Wexstrasse …’

  ‘I’m living at Gertrud Gudde’s, Father. You know, she used to be our dressmaker at the old place.’

  ‘Gudde? Don’t know her.’ The old man was pretending to misunderstand. ‘There are so many people in the new place. An apartment house, I said to myself, that’s an investment! Always brings in money – if only people pay. Bit heavily mortgaged, though.’

  ‘Father, I’ve known Gertrud Gudde for a long time. We’ve a son who’s already four years old. We called him Gustav after you. And we want to get married.’

  ‘Gudde? Isn’t she the little hunchback who did our dressmaking? Always at the sewing machine – I thought it wouldn’t do her any good. She’s a bundle of misery as it is and with all that legwork …’ The old man looked at Otto angrily.

  ‘The child’s quite healthy,’ said Otto resolutely. ‘Father, it’s no use your talking like that. For a long time I was too cowardly to speak to you about it, but now it’s different.’

  ‘Gudde!’ said the old man as if he hadn’t heard. ‘Now I remember – Mother let it out one day. Your sister Eva, who’s become a whore, lives there. It seems to be a good place of accommodation. So the child’s four, you say? Well, unwed you can go to bed.’

  Otto had turned white but he controlled himself. ‘Father, why do you say that?’ he said indignantly. ‘You’re hurting yourself most.’

  ‘And what’s that to do with you?’ cried the old man angrily. ‘Marry your Gudde and brat if you want to. Called after me – as if I’d be taken in by such nonsense! Hurting myself! Well, Eva’s a tart and I get from Sophie a letter once a month – “I’m quite well, the Senior Staff Surgeon tells me I’m capable, the Chaplain tells me I’m even more capable” and so on, all about herself, never a word askin’ how Mother’s doing. Erich – he only writes when he needs money. And after two years here’s Otto on leave and he’s actually got time to speak to his father about his marriage. Well, my boy, I’m made of iron. Even if I’m drivin’ a cab again I still say there’s something rotten about all my children. P’r’aps not Heinz, but it’s too early to tell yet.’

  ‘Father,’ said Otto, ‘you don’t know Gertrud Gudde at all. She’s capable, too, and hard-working. She’s made a man of me.’

  ‘She’s made you the sort of fellow who smacks his father one an’ then says: “Cheer up, Charlie – tomorrow you’ll be in clover!” So you’re going to marry, eh?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Otto firmly. ‘I only came to fetch my papers. It’s no use talking, Father. I can’t leave Gertrud in the lurch just to please you.’

  ‘I see – you only came because of your papers. And I, like a fool, was actually pleased when I saw you. Afterwards, of course, I could see you had something up your sleeve.’

  ‘But what can you have against our marriage, Father?’

  ‘Nothing at all – nothing. And now, my boy’ – he dived into his pockets – ‘here are the keys. You go home an’ open my desk. Your papers are inside.’

  ‘It won’t do, Father,’ said Otto resolutely. ‘Give me a real objection – not merely that you don’t like it.’

  ‘You want me to say something, eh? Here are the keys – take ’em! And if you think I’m going to say I agree to your marriage, Otto, then let me tell you – never! Not even to save you from death and damnation. I’m of iron in that. “Yes, Father,” it’s easy enough for you to say that! Like one of those dolls you press in the tummy. And if you press yours it only ever said “Father” because you were hungry and I had to feed you.’

  ‘Just tell me, Father, what you really object to in this marriage. I’m twenty-seven …’

  ‘I don’t object at all. What I say is, if you go to bed with a woman I’m not particular, I don’t take offence; all I say is, get on with it if it gives you pleasure. But to wait till your child’s four years old before you’ve got the pluck to tell your father about it and then only in a pub because he’ll keep quiet in front of people – well! But Gustav doesn’t keep quiet, he’s made of iron …’

  ‘Yes, you really are, Father. From the neck upwards.’

  ‘Made of iron is Gustav! Calls a milksop a milksop an’ a coward a coward. And he’s not sitting at the same table as a coward, that’s certain. I was glad to see you swaying towards me through the tavern, but now I’m taking my beer glass and I’ll sit at another table.’ He looked at his son bitterly, picked up his glass and rose. But he did not go at once. ‘You’ve got the keys,’ he said. ‘At eight o’clock I’ll have finished with the horses and you’ll be gone by then. And if you want to visit your mother I’m out most of the day.’

  ‘But, Father, what does it all mean? Please be sensible …’ asked Otto once again.

  ‘Sensible? Am I sensible? Are you? Neither of us knows that! But how you can ask me to be sensible? That I can’t understand. If I’m not sensible, so be it, but I still remain iron all the same. I remain iron, and you’re a milksop, and that’s why I drink my beer alone …’

  And with that Iron Gustav left. He did so with his glass of beer in his hand, but he didn’t go through the whole tavern, only to the next-door table. There he sat, his back to Otto, and shouted: ‘Landlord, gimme another, since it tastes so horrible.’

  Otto sat there for a time, brooding. Now and then he looked at his father’s back, and at the keys. But finally he remembered Gertrud waiting anxiously, and picked them up. Rising, he looked for a moment rather uncertainly at his father and then said: ‘Goodnight, Father.’

  ‘Goodnight,’ said Hackendahl indifferently.

  Otto waited but the old man merely picked up his glass and drank.

  So Otto went.

  § XIII

  The tree had been transplanted from the nursery and flourished in fresh earth. It grew new branches and was stronger. The transplant had done it good. True, some roots had been torn off – it still pained Otto to think of his angry, incomprehensibly stubborn father, or his mother who, in a crowded, noisy house, longed to be back in the big, clean coaching yard.

  Yes, these roots and been torn up, and such memories were painful. However, by and large, the tree flourished. For lack of light, it had not done so in the shadow of its father tree. Now it grew apace. Tutti was often surprised to see with what assurance this formerly weak man now went through life. He has become quite changed, she thought almost happily.

  For she was happy – almost. Only occ
asionally did anxieties and doubts arise in her mind. Once she had the courage to say to him in the darkness before sleep: ‘I used to be able to help you and make things easier. But what can I do now?’

  He knew she was thinking of her deformed body and her little, sharp-featured face. After a moment he took her hand. ‘In the trenches, whenever we spoke about home I thought of you.’

  She said nothing in reply, but her heart beat quicker. And she felt a sensation of happiness pass right through her.

  ‘When you think of home you don’t ask what it is or what it gives – home is home,’ he added.

  She had felt like begging him to say no more – this happiness was too much. Or of saying: go on. Why are you silent? Go on speaking – I have never been so happy.

  But she, as he, was silent. That moment might vanish, its emotion never.

  One day Heinz visited the two of them – or rather the three, for Gustäving was inseparable from his father. During Otto’s two years of absence Heinz had shot up unbelievably; his limbs were overlong, a crooked nose jutted out of a pale face and he spoke in a ridiculously deep bass.

  ‘Well, Defender of the Fatherland,’ he growled, ‘Corporal and holder of the Iron Cross Second Class, when are you getting the First Class?’

  ‘Probably never,’ smiled Otto.

  ‘Disgusting! I don’t count at school now. Two brothers and neither of them with the Iron Cross First Class! Just don’t take it badly, Otto. I was only joking. So you’re my nephew Gustav, eh?’ And to hide embarrassment he laid his hand in a fatherly way on the child’s head and from his enormous height regarded him as though he were some sort of ant.

  ‘Too pale and thin,’ he decided. ‘Yes, yes, beloved brother, war kills the strong and spares the weak. I’m saying that quite impersonally, you understand?’

  Otto nodded with pleasure.

  ‘So at school we decided to despise war. We rejected it root and branch, because it gave the wrong options. What do you think? What’s your opinion?’

  ‘Weak in the head,’ replied Otto gently.

  ‘Why? What do you mean “Weak in the head”? Our decision is naturally only valid when we’ve won this war. That’s obvious. We’ll see it through.’ And he went on patronizingly: ‘And how are the works on the Western Front? Air not too healthy, eh? I can well believe it.’

  ‘Middling,’ said Otto, grinning. ‘We’re only waiting for you to help us.’

  ‘What rubbish! The war’ll be over this winter. Definitely! You can take it from me – I had it from someone who’s in touch with Hindenburg’s staff. Vigorous old boy, what?’

  ‘Listen,’ said Otto, having acknowledged that Hindenburg was indeed a vigorous old boy and moreover understood his business, ‘listen. Have you seen or heard anything of Eva at home?’

  ‘Eva?’ The lad’s face clouded; he became reticent. ‘No. Nothing.’

  ‘Do you know anything about her? Don’t look down your nose, Heinz – we’re a bit worried. It might help if you told us what you know.’

  ‘I only know she had a terrible row with Father. Mother told me – I know nothing otherwise. Wait – I saw her in the street once with a swell. Proper swell. Of course I didn’t acknowledge her.’

  ‘When was that?’

  But it emerged that this had been when Eva had still been living with her parents. ‘And I don’t want to hear anything more about her. When she went Mother found a whole pile of pawn tickets for articles she had popped on the sly. Tablecloths, sheets – Mother still cries her eyes out when she thinks about it. I consider that’s low, Otto.’

  ‘I, too, Heinz, believe me. All the same we can’t leave her in the lurch. That chap you saw, he’ll be to blame. Eva was seduced, and that’s the truth.’

  ‘Seduced!’ Heinz turned crimson and threw a glance at his sister-in-law. ‘Does it mean anything, that word? Some of us at school have been reading a book by Wegener called We Young Men, enormously frank but utterly clean. Well, we’ve made a resolution to remain clean ourselves. You understand, Otto! Before marriage – nothing! That’s the only clean thing.’ At this point his eye fell on Gustäving and he turned a still-deeper crimson. ‘Well, you know what I mean, as a principle. Naturally there are always exceptions.’ He was silent for a while. ‘Otto, let me tell you I’m sometimes afraid we are a decadent family.’

  ‘A what?’ asked Otto, amazed.

  ‘Well, decadent … You don’t know what I mean? If a family … Well, it’s difficult to explain … But you know what happened with Erich. And now with Eva. Sophie’s also a bit queer. And sometimes I can hardly sleep for thinking of what’s going on in myself.’ In a low voice: ‘You’ll hardly believe it, Otto, but sometimes I downright hate Father.’

  ‘And that’s decadent?’

  ‘Well, it’s just an example. If the family disintegrates, well, the family is the pillar of the State and if nobody achieves anything worthwhile, if everybody’s rotten … What do you think?’

  ‘I don’t know if we’re rotten or not. Perhaps the times in which we lived were rotten too, and infected us. Can’t something that’s healthy also be infected by a rotten environment? I at least became quite healthy again at the Front.’

  ‘Absolutely. I can see it immediately. It’s made you look terrific. Well, we won’t lose hope, Otto. It’s done me a lot of good, this talk with you. But I must be off now. You’ve no idea how hard I have to work. Simply colossal. You can’t imagine it. Auf Wiedersehen, sister-in-law. Good luck, Otto. I don’t know whether I’ll see you before you go.’

  ‘Don’t forget your parcel, Heinz,’ Gertrud reminded him.

  ‘Parcel?’ Heinz slapped his forehead. ‘What a fabulous fool I am. Simply phenomenal. That’s why I came round, because of the parcel. Mother sent it because she couldn’t be present at the wedding. By the way, my hearty congratulations. I also was prevented from coming as you may have noticed – school, you understand.’

  ‘Many thanks,’ said Otto, while Tutti opened the parcel. ‘It was only at a register office – over in five minutes.’

  ‘I understand. What’s your attitude towards the Church, Otto? We at school …’

  But he got no further, for Tutti had unpacked six silver tablespoons, six forks, six knives, six teaspoons, a couple of tablecloths, some sheets and pillowcases … ‘But it’s too much,’ she cried. ‘Your mother is robbing herself.’

  ‘That stuff?’ Heinz snorted. ‘We don’t need it – there are only three of us now, and Father rarely comes home for meals. Mother’s keeping the other half of each dozen for herself.’

  ‘We can’t take them,’ said Tutti, but her eyes shone. ‘You tell him, Otto.’

  ‘What’s he to tell me?’ growled Heinz. ‘He should say “Thank you”. It makes Mother happy to be able to give you a wedding present at least. She would have come to see you long ago, only the distance, you know, and her legs … And then Father …’ He looked at both of them questioningly. Then he thought aloud: ‘I won’t permit criticism of my creator. Only say: if I were a father I would do it differently. Wouldn’t you, Otto?’

  ‘There,’ said Otto and threw his laughing little boy into the air. ‘That’s what I’d do.’

  ‘Well,’ said Bubi. ‘It wouldn’t be very easy for Father to do that with me. Well, cheerio. I’ll come back, Gertrud, but perhaps not for a while. You know – school!’ And with a dignified nod he went. But almost immediately his head appeared in the doorway again. ‘One more question, Otto. Blade or cut-throat?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’m always quarrelling with Father about shaving. Well, safety razor or otherwise? Father of course swears by the cut-throat.’

  ‘But you don’t need to shave yet, Heinz.’

  ‘Have you no idea? A beard like King Barbarossa!’

  ‘Let it grow.’

  ‘All right – safety razor! I’ll tell Father from you. Many thanks.’

  And this time Heinz – so justifiably called Bubi – disappeared for good.


  § XIV

  As happy as this visit by the youngest Hackendahl had been, it had not thrown any light on the whereabouts of Eva. During the next few days Otto, acting on Gertrud’s suggestion, made many calls. He even dared to visit Police Headquarters at Alexanderplatz towards which he had the good Berliner’s attitude of respect mingled with fear. But he learned nothing, they had too many Eugens on record, and Eva Hackendahl was – thank God – absolutely unknown to them. And waiting about in the Andreasstrasse and the Lange Strasse proved just as unsuccessful. In the end Otto overcame himself so far as to go to the last address Gertrud knew of – the Oriental Hotel. But there he was met by Frau Pauli, who was not disposed to give any information about her clients. She knew neither a Herr Eugen nor a Fräulein Eva. No, she was sorry, but the gentleman must have made a mistake – some confusion in identity perhaps. There were so many hotels in Berlin, the Adlon for instance, the Kaiserhof, Esplanade, Bristol – perhaps his friends had put up at one of these. And she practically laughed in his face.

  A little crushed, Otto reported failure. Tutti was now of the opinion that he had done enough. ‘For you to have gone there at all, Otto! For you to speak with such a woman! No, drop it now. Tomorrow we’ll take the train to Strausberg again. They say the villages haven’t yet been stripped around Strausberg.’

  However, if Tutti thought the villages beyond Strausberg were still unscathed, she was mistaken. Or else the people out there were particularly hard-hearted. All day she and Otto wandered about in an icy wind; unwearyingly they picked out the remotest, most isolated farms, those lying on the worst, the most impassable roads. But when they knocked at the door, when they asked for a drop of milk, a few eggs, even a few potatoes; when on behalf of their child at home they humbled themselves (and this with difficulty); when they had offered double or treble the usual price – all they got was a rude refusal. The door was slammed, and if they did not leave at once they heard the people inside talking about ‘everlasting begging’ and ‘hungry rabble’. And yet they had been very moderate; not a word about butter or bacon, the things missed most.