A new boy had arrived around noon. Toni.
He looked clean and urbane and right-at-home when the others returned from their grunt work.
“So where are you from?” asked Anna, spooning up the delicious soup, thinking they could have added a little more salt.
“Austria.”
“‘Austria,’ he says. ‘Austria’ not ‘Ostmark’, the baby Reich. I’m impressed. But don’t let our Führer hear you,” said Eddie testily.
Toni shrugged. There followed an uncomfortable pause.
“You sound just like a soldier who stayed with us a few years ago,” said Anna.
“Really?” said Toni.
“The question may come as a surprise,” said Eddie, who wasn’t finished, “but what are you doing in Berlin?”
“Just lucky, I guess,” said Toni, deadpan.
“Hey, just like the rest of us, lucky, lucky, lucky,” said Motz.
Toni turned back to Anna.
“So who was this soldier?”
“He was like a saint, a beauteous saint from a mountain village, where people are ‘born on skis’,” said Anna.
“Ugggh,” said Emma.
“Several others stayed in our neighbourhood as well. All tanned, curly dark hair, soulful brown eyes and teeth like our nutcracker.” She winked.
Eddie asked, “Then what? I bet I know.”
“One day they suddenly pulled out, and a few days later they had landed in Narvik.”
“Did they warn you they were going to start a shooting war in Norway?”
“My parents thought that the soldiers had no idea where they were deployed to.”
“Adolf, Adolf, Adolf, count on him to come up with a brilliant scheme every other minute, billeting the flying mountain marines with the Berlin plutocrats, weaving bonds across the hills and valleys as it were. So did you ever hear from him?” Eddie again.
“We heard from his mother. He lost a leg right away, came home, is a skiing instructor for amputees, thinking of going into the priesthood.”
“Those are not my career goals,” said Toni. “This is where the comparison ends.”
“Now, show us your teeth,” said Eddie. “say aaaaah! Oh boy, sensational! And you have career goals. Heavy, heavy …”
Toni shrugged. Ulli put a hand on his arm. “Where are you bunking? We’ve got some room in barrack four.”
“A preferred, exclusive location,” said Eddie, “right across from the galley. Ulli switched barracks with Henning to be closer to the fleshpots…”
“Just leave him,” said Motz quietly.
As they spilled out of the Mess Hall later, sirens started wailing and they showed Toni where the shelter was, in case he was interested.
The next day everyone learned that Toni had arrived equipped with nail clippers, scissors, file and fine hair brush.
“Did anyone know birds have fleas?” he asked, examining his handy work, sitting in the Mess Hall.
There was a pause. The boys had been talking about school, relaxing after another day digging trenches.
“Non-sequiturs are not always easily dealt with,” Axel finally said, “but yes, back in East Prussia the pigeons did.”
“That’s why they take these crazy, wiggly sandbaths,” Toni said, with an unfortunate urge to tell.
“That’s sensational, my man,” said Eddie from the door. “Do go on. Solid information here. What happens to the fleas after the purging sandbath? Do they lie in wait for a passing dog?”
“No,” said Toni, attempting to extricate himself, “different fleas.”
Emma had come in and held up her hand.
“I hear you have clippers. Would you lend those for five minutes?”
She grabbed them, “one of the guys can’t get his boots on. Too tight. Maybe just long nails.” And she went.
But Toni was in the dog house this second day as well. Cpl. Alfred Albers, the Medic, had suffered a head injury in 1942, with a medal to show for it. When Toni referred to him as ‘Al Dente’, he wanted to put the words back into his mouth, but Axel heard and reacted.
“You I would hesitate to even take to a barber shop,” he said.
“This one’s not house-broken,” Eddie mumbled, taking his leave.
A moment later the Sergeant passed by Lilly and Anna who were permitted to probe for a first harbinger of stubble on Motz’s tender cheek, and muttered, “Manhood approaching. Turn around NOW, kid, or you might get addicted.”
“Sounds good to me,” said Motz, “I’ll take my chance and run with it.”