The noisy rattle of the wheels is the only sound to be heard in the S-Bahn as they hurtle towards home. Doris is sitting squished against her best friend Elfie’s shoulder, is resting her head on it, and feels the comforting arm of Irma on her other side.
Those wheels are reassuring, taking her away from the scene of her awful humiliation, all that anger and reproach in the many adult faces around her back there, at the Sportpalast.
Doris and Elfie have just turned twelve. They live around the corner from each other, are the oldest of four children in each house and do just about everything together. Homework and minding siblings in the park, looking for Flak shrapnel in the early mornings to enhance little brothers’ stash, and collect photos of movie stars, still contained in cigarette packs.
Recruited into the Hitler Youth at age ten, today they had been summoned for a special service, such as today’s massive rally. Irma is fifteen, a counsellor in training, and she lives not so far away. Everyone likes Irma.
“Why does he have to shout like that,” Doris wails and leans forward against the dirty window. “And why do all the people have to scream so much! And he never stops yelling. I just, I just,” and the tears flow again. The truth is, Doris, back at the Sportpalast, has disgraced their entire unit by barfing all over the upper vestibule when she couldn’t get out of their row fast enough, looking for a bathroom. She had nothing to clean up her face, her collar or the floor for that matter, and so she ran and ran and sobbed until a kindly toilet cleaner took her inside the ladies’ room and tidied her up, dried her tears. “I feel like crying too, my child,” whispered the cleaner, “had to hide in here the entire time. Suits me fine. Migraines, but don’t tell anyone I said that. Goebbels!” She checks the stalls for spies.
When Doris emerges from the bathroom, dabbing at her eyes with a wad of toilet paper, there is a circle of accusing faces, various uniforms, men and women, and there is the regional Hitler Youth leader, Girls Section. “What on earth was this about?” she demands to know. “Are you sick or something? Do you know how many others would consider this an honour, to be chosen for this special occasion?” She is red in the face, very incensed. Doris opens her mouth to explain that she isn’t keen on this kind of honour, but she feels a pinch just above her elbow and holds her tongue.
A calm voice interrupts. A young woman Doris doesn’t recognize points to Irma emerging just behind her, and announces Irma will take Doris home, and yes, Elfie too, who is wiping her eyes a few feet away from the throng. Just as a man launches into a thunderous indictment of the sorry behaviour in a uniformed girl, the young woman leads them gently to the stairs, Irma in tow.
So here they are in the S-Bahn heading for home, Doris wringing the handkerchief in her wet hands.
“What does he mean by ‘Total War’ anyway? Isn’t it total already? I don’t understand what he is talking about. Do you?” Elfie shakes her head and Irma says, “They are always talking in symbols, have you noticed? They always remind us of the ancient sagas as examples of the heroic values we follow. I get confused too sometimes, but we get used to it, of course.” “Why ask if we want a total war? So many shouted ‘yes’ — but doesn’t he always do what he wants anyway? I mean, does it matter what we think?” Other passengers are now staring at them, and Irma places a finger across her lips.
It is a lucky thing that they have been dismissed. This train is crammed full of people. Pretty soon, when the rally will finally be over, there will be thousands more, all in uniforms of varying colour, flooding the S-Bahn platforms, the subway stations and the buses, all talking at once. Everybody so wildly ‘hectic’ as mother calls it.
What will Doris tell her parents? Should she tell them anything at all? Aren’t they worried enough about the war and everything? They will listen to the news that night and will see the newspapers the next morning. If not, she will keep all this to herself.