That evening they open a window and let the air come in. The days are warm but at night it gets damp. There’s no kindling left to feed the feeble dysfunctional potbelly stove even for moments.
“Feel free to disagree, but I say we find the Lieutenant’s diary, his bible and his fine black boots and burn them. The bastard’s not coming back at all. I’ll bet he’s taken a powder,” says Eddie.
“You’re kidding! You really think so? If he gets caught…”
“He probably went for that hearing, remember, Hansi’s accident,” says Gus.
“If he gets caught, it won’t be pretty. The supply truck driver says there are rows of men strung from lamp posts and trees with signs around their necks, ‘I was too cowardly to fight for my country’.”
“Something like that. A new sport,” Eddie says.
“This is horrible,” says Lilly, covering her eyes.
“It’s the end. We hit bottom,” says Anna.
“If Axel was here, he’d suggest we burn the piano.” That’s Chris’s voice, glum.
“I am here, and I was just thinking — how about some music?”
Axel has come in, sets down his freshly rinsed lunch pail, dusts off the dented metal box that serves as a stool, rubs his hands together and begins to play. He offers pop, tunes they all know and they sing along at various levels of proficiency and enthusiasm. Lilly, with her clear and lilting alto voice, joins Axel in the sad and romantic, “Auf der Brücke Thule-du gehn die Mädchen ab und zu… nichts ist für die Ewigkeit,” which states that nothing is forever, and in a minor key, from a new movie called UNTER DEN BRUECKEN. They all notice Lilly's beautiful hand on Axel’s shoulder, but no one says anything.
The girls bring some bread the widow had sent, and they hum and eat. And then someone does find a few things to burn, not entirely suitable, and smelly, but the room feels almost cozy. They sit on the floor, leaning against each other in the twilight, spreading breadcrumbs.
They tell ‘A Russian Soldier, an American Soldier, a French and a British soldier flying on a plane’ jokes, and laugh uproariously. Then Motz says, “Julius Caesar, Frederick the Great and Napoleon, in conversation. Caesar says, ‘If only I had had the tanks, I would have conquered all of Germania; Frederic says, ‘and if I had had the planes, I would have conquered all of Europe’. Napoleon says, ‘If I had only had that Goebbels, the whole world would believe to this day that I won the battle of Waterloo’.”
“Is it true, do you think, that nothing lasts forever?” Chris asks, when no one has said anything for a while.
“No, it’s not true,” says Ulli. “Take poetry. It’s immortal.”
“Like Ringelnatz,” says Toni dryly.
“What’s Ringelnatz?” asks Henning.
“Oh Ulli,” says Anna, “good point. The old Greeks, Romans. For myself, I was just wondering about the oceans.”
“Toni was joking, Henning,” says Axel, “but I’ll venture humanity is forever, though I’m not sure I’m exactly advocating it, seeing how we absolutely messed up the first half of this century.”
“I know the mountains are forever,” says Toni. “To me they are a symbol of eternity, of majesty, of faith.”
“There he goes rhapsodizing,” says Eddie, “auditioning again.”
“How about fire?” says Motz. “With the sole exception of this one. It’s about to go out. Will anyone contribute a spare birdfeeder, love letters, surplus underwear…”
“If the pianist is quitting, I’m going to bed,” says Eddie. “I need my beauty sleep. I want to look gorgeous when they find me dead.” But he stays.
“My mother believes some people fulfill their purpose on earth in a very short time, like a couple of years, or even a few months, and then, you know, they go,” says Chris.
“What do you mean by ‘purpose’?” says Motz. “We don’t arrive in the world with a tag or chart attached.”
“Don’t you believe we’re here for a reason? I’m not religious or anything but I can’t imagine that all this, the universe, is here by accident,” says Ulli, “you know, without purpose.”
“The idea of the Big Bang makes it sound pretty much like an accident to me,” says Emma.
“Then again,” says Eddie, “maybe it was God’s bowling night and he lost it.”
“You don’t like the wonder of nature?” asks Toni.
“I don’t like this world,” says Eddie, and then he leaves, followed by an entourage.
No one had heard the scuffle outside, and by the time Anna opened the door, it was difficult to see who was fighting whom. Like viewing a detail from a Laokoon group. But the swearing, the insults flying with the punches were so fierce, the girls shrank back to avoid being kicked in the head. Axel, Motz and Ulli all stood in the doorway, trying to make sense of the situation, when the Sergeant appeared with a bellow and flung himself full-tilt at the bundle of arms, legs and torsos, and grabbed Toni, while Tom staggered backward, wiping his bleeding nose, keeping a watchful eye on Eddie. Eddie, still swearing loudly, was being led away towards the shelter now by Rainer and Emma.
“That’ll teach you to insult my country,” yelled Toni over his shoulder, “there’s plenty more where this came from,” which propelled Eddie out of the arms of the two peacemakers and right in the face of the Sergeant.
When the mud had been scraped off all the surfaces, it became clear that it wouldn’t be safe to let Toni and Eddie fight the war on the same side. Ulli was put in charge of Toni in his bunk, a job Ulli clearly resented, and Motz was to nail down Eddie, seeing the two had known each other since kindergarten. According to Motz, their mothers had attended Communist party gatherings together as girls (and both women were secret but proud card-carrying members to this day). A big problem in his household, as his father was a member of the defunct Social Democrats, while he, Motz, was in the Hitler Youth, a bone of great contention with both parents and the rest of the residents in their tenement apartment block, but most of all with his sister, who thought politics confused the mind.
When this information was gleaned one night during an air raid, the girls had stood speechless, uncomprehending how adults in this day and age could still be card-carrying members of obsolete political entities, things of history, and fight over issues left over from the past. Motz noted with a tolerance aided by his imposing 6’4” frame, that there was a certain information gap here, and so it seemed.
“A thing of the past it isn’t,” said Motz. “More like a thing of the future. They’re working on it as we speak.” And, “Eddie, stay put or I’ll kill you.”
That settled it. Motz was bigger. If only by an inch.
“Just cool it,” shouted Eddie, “or I’ll tell everybody what your real name is.”
So Anna and Motz stood guard outside the Berliners’ barrack I.
“You two are always fighting.”
“Of course, we’re best buddies,” said Motz.
“Can I ask you a question?” said Anna. “I think I have a pretty good idea of what Communism is about, but what did the Social Democrats believe in? What did they want?”
“Well, they have some ideas in common with the Commies, of course, in that they’re looking for equal rights for all working people across the world…”
“Aren’t we?” said Anna. “In theory, I mean — like for the future?”
“No. Hell, NO. We Nazis are a National Socialist Party, remember? National. It ends right at the border. Those guys don’t give a shit about what happens to working Poles or Africans!”
“I see. Yes, I see. Of course, I’ve been wondering lately whether they care all that much about Germans either. Sounds terrible, I know,” said Anna.
“Because we’re dealing with a tyrant, let’s face it, a tyrant who hasn’t been playing on his own team for a while. For quite a while. A vegetarian, abstaining, non-smoking tyrant. Yeaaah! Where were we? Oh, right. Now, the Social Democrats are taking a global approach to human rights, and the word ‘democracy’—”
“I know what ‘democracy’ means. I like it a lot. The Weimar Republic and that. Like the sound of it. Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt,” said Anna.
“I’d say people were too pre-occupied with their own misery, the collapsed economy and all that, the inflation — you know —”
“YES! My mom told us she was paid twice a DAY, and ran out at lunch time to buy half a pound of butter at the milk store, because for the afternoon pay she would only get a bottle of milk.”
“That’s it. And people didn’t spot any signs for improvement.”
“But Motz! None of the other parties had rich cousins either — the country was bankrupt after the World War. Why the NSDAP? Why did he win that one election? My parents were Liberals, the Farmers’ Liberals —”
“Okay, Anne, here it comes: My Dad says that a— that bastard won with something like 37% of the vote, because the 63% of voters that hated him were split into 18 opposition parties. Insane but that’s how the system worked.”
“Motz! I had no idea. Never asked the question either, and I find it crazy: 18 different political belief systems? How could these people expect to defeat each other?”
“There was a Christian party, if you must know, Zentrum …”
“Lights out. NOW,” yelled the Sergeant, motioning with his thumb and Anna turned and furiously walked back to the mess hall.
“See you in a couple of hours,” Motz called after her. He went inside, sat on his bunk and removed his shoes and jacket. The others were awake, tense, Tom and Chris whispering.
“I’m so nervous. Someone tell an anecdote from his past,” said Eddie. “You mean a bedtime story?” asked Gus, and shook his head.
“My turn?” said Motz when no one responded.
“Oh, alright. A short one. A while ago, on the subway, I stepped right square on this little guy’s shoe,” he began. “What could I do?” Motz paused.
“I had to slap him.” When no one laughed, Eddie finished the story.
“Like hell you did. You practically carried him off the train, examined his dainty foot — you’re a teddy bear, man, and as your buddy I’m obliged to tell the embarrassing truth.” Motz held up his hand but was denied the last word.
In the girls’ room Lotte, minus boots and jacket, stood in the door, hand tragically raised to her forehead.
“I can’t do this any more,” she intoned.
“Heil Hitler!” shouted Emma, only half kidding. And so they went to bed.