Post by Dirk Riedel on Jan 21, 2011 1:07:40 GMT
In a moment she could see that softer side resurfacing as the waves crushed against the sea of his arrogance, his bloated self-esteem and apathetic vindictiveness, and her eyes gleamed at the faintest of signs of his return, when the man leaned his face ever closer to hers and his hand slowly rose to barely touch her neck with his fingertips, the sensation one which brought back distant memories of a time during which those same fingers had traced a gentle, albeit resolute, line across her skin and travelled alongside the curve of her neck to touch at the edge of her blooded lips, to bring them to a heretical, condemnable union and for the first time breathe into her being a part of his essence which now was too gruelling and exhausting, unlikely even, to dispose of, that wretched, hateful, and beautiful moment that he first appeared to her perhaps in what was his truest form, unmasked of feelings and sensations that were not his own, aspirations that were being imposed upon him from others, the contrivance and shallow relationships he was forced to maintain, all vanished beneath the genuine human being that breathed so very close to her, in an attempt to feel and understand, explore and unravel, perceive and absorb, from her, into her, and surrounding her, from within, and to the outside, in an ongoing circle of imparted sentiment and truth. She knew not why such despair had been born out of the desire to meet that man again, as if he was the only thing to clutch on to and protect herself from falling into the precipice, as if he gave any peace at all to her constant state of inner stress with regard to the secret identity and the burdensome power it held within her, as if he alone could bring safety and security, offer a meaning to her actions, a pillar of strength she could draw new resources from, so that whenever she felt weak she need only close her eyes and pull her arms around it and everything should be taken care of by his determined hand, as if she really did care – but she longed to see him again, and her eyes widened from the aching anticipation of such a need, her heart momentarily grasping at the gesture with a thirst formerly unprecedented to her. Yes, she needed to be certain, to have her confidence revived that he had not been one of the many condescending, overbearing aristocrats she had come across throughout her life, to be reassured that she could still trust him, want and think of him without guilt and irritation at her own self for being so susceptible to such unnecessary distractions.
But there came the moment that broke something inside her. Eyes of deepest green could only stare at him, confused and forlorn, as he spoke of how such a man had never existed to begin with, that if he had he was, now, dead; that what she saw in front of her was the closest she could distinguish of Hauptmann Rolf Jäger and that she was an idiot to have spared a thought for him that only cared to see him free himself from the shackles that held him hostage to his heritage. He continued to talk and tell her of how he was not the one to bring out the whore in her, but little did she pay any attention to such statements at this point when all her mind had been scorched with was the gravity of such a refusal. He called himself the villain. And to further emphasize the undeniable truth, he broke free from her at the engine sounds of distant Kubelwagen reaching her ears with a ringing quality to them as though they belonged to a reality different than the one she was presently living in, the woman entrapped into his lies, his deception, his cruelty, the wasted efforts. Everything. He was dead now. He was dead.
No, she could not hear the sound of justice being served, for it was no justice, to begin with. He was not the villain. And this was not a story. Her eyes were unable to break away from that faint, cruel smile risen across his lips, hitting her violently on her body with the ominous pain of viscera being slashed open, and she knew she had to look elsewhere if only to spare herself that pang of despair to stare at that gesture of inhumanity as the smirk offered, but completely incapacitated as she was to the most elementary form of movement, and the numbness seeping through her pulsating veins, with her arms each hanging down by her sides useless and lifeless, the woman only stared at him in wretched silence as he turned around and walked to the officers of the military police, looking crushed and injured, but there was no wound visible through her body, her bright, glassy eyes lost and forlorn as she gazed into the nothingness he had created.
And then came hatred. The next days followed with the bristly, harsh texture of uncultivated lands, the flow of time bearing the same raw, crude quality and leading them from one day to the other, the morning morphing into the clearest dark Prussian blue skies of the night, the woman pre-occupied with military duties that saw her leading her soldiers into offensives, standing next to the mechanic in the garage while he was tending to a half-track during the hours they were not battling and simply resting on top of a pile of old tyres, brooding and in reverie, her mind often catching words such as ‘retreated enemy lines’, ‘secured ground clearance’ or ‘adjusting the torsion bar suspension’ but in reality only absentmindedly agreeing to something she did not even know what it was. She welcomed the heavy line of duty and tended to each matter she was required to, gladly burning herself with overexertion. It was her own way to make herself easily exhausted through time; the more weary she was, the less her mind was prone to thoughts she wanted to avoid, the less she felt, the more her physical stress intensified and overrode any other need, and thus the less she thought of the Hauptmann. After all, had this not been the exact method she had resorted to in Hamburg? For all that, it was not an infallible method and she had only deceived herself to think it would have been effective enough in the long run, for she had been accustomed to the hard toil and interminable hours of work and duty to such a point that her body had easily adjusted to the demands of her duties and exhaustion became such an inseparable part of her that, essentially, it was exactly the same as with not being tired at all. And then, then the thoughts would return to her, and then anger would reign over all other sentiments.
She had been sleeping for one or two hours at most each night, black circles drawn underneath her tired, hollow eyes in that overexerted, fatigued face, and indeed she did appear as utterly worn out once an entire week had passed, but which to the woman had felt having lasted no more than a day, not quite distinguishing day from night, the makeshift bed within the tent to the texture of the sand, or the universal difference of dawn and dusk, her actions perfect, precise and mechanized, her lips constantly drawn into a stern, severe line, her appearance silent and forbidding, speaking only when necessary and with regard to military matters, or when she commanded orders. The soldiers in her platoon had understood that something had caused the Leutnant to act in such a way, for even if they knew his strict, military discipline and straightforward ways, even they could perceive something was, indeed, bothering him. It was a silent communication amongst each of the men under her command and a common agreement, but they did not address any issue of the sort but, rather, showed understanding at their officer’s present state, making certain that they carried out each of his orders perfectly as not to disappoint him or augment his contained wrath. It was not until the eighth day, however, that the Leutnant vented out such a strongly held feeling.
Standing alone within the garage, she kicked at the door of the half-track with an angry groan, her face distorted into a hateful expression of unprecedented rage and intolerance, the source of such now violent wrath being founded upon precisely those thoughts that were determined enough to linger, infiltrating her mind and violating the space she needed from them. They were distractions, they were hateful distractions she wanted to abolish forever, but they were also not thoughts per se but an infinite list of questions she kept asking herself. He was nothing but the faintest trace of human essence, an animal, a worthless speck of a man for whom she could only feel contempt and derision, a vain, self-centered aristocrat, a thoughtless person, shallow, selfish and imperious, and she hated him – she hated him! – therefore, why did she still think of him? Why could she not fully concentrate on the task at hand even if her fingers were with a mechanized movement tending to her duty, why did her mind wander to a different reality wholly dominated by his wretched presence? And, indeed, when one felt nothing but hatred towards another person, usually they would not spend time by themselves to live through the essence of such a sentiment but, rather, ignore them and return to being pre-occupied with different other chores or assignments and went on with their lives? So why could she not simply forget about him but instead wasted hours and hours, days, nights and even the pitifully few moments of sleep contemplating on her hatred and contempt? Why could she not go on, what was that kept her there, into that static point in time, and she, unable to move, only stared what lay behind her, the future left unnoticed, for she held no real interest for it? She hated him for violating her life, and she hated herself for having been prone to such pathetic weaknesses such as had forced her to care about the depth of his soul, the hidden motives that still were mysterious to her and traits of his character she had discovered from time to time, that she had wasted her efforts into attempting to pull out a more human part of him, which, once witnessed, could not be forgotten.
Wretched fate and wretched human nature! She did not have any time to waste or thoughts to spare for someone whose disposition was so overwhelming overbearing and self-important that it chocked her, suffocated her and threatened to drive her to the end of her wits. He did not deserve it. He did not deserve her friendship, her empathy, he did not deserve her efforts, her heart or her sentiments, her thoughts and expectations, he failed, he failed in everything, failed to prove to her why exactly he had a right to claim ownership of her, to pursue and challenge her, to violate her life and threaten her family, blackmail her, rape her and beat her to the ground, use and exploit her until there would be nothing left of her but emptiness, her being sucked out and rendered into a hopeless state of living without essence or purpose. And still, still she went back to him like the idiot she was, and she could not understand. She could not understand why she could not get rid of him. All this circled around her mind with a merciless force, and she slowly raised her previously hanging head while the palms of her hands each touched against the surface of the door, in that reclining position next to the Kubelwagen as she exercised sheer efforts to bring herself together, but as her bloodshed, worn out eyes narrowed to slits suddenly the force of her inner distress was unleashed and her clenched fist struck at the door. Get out of my head! She hit at the door, again, and again, with anger, with despair, and self-hatred, until her roughened, white knuckles began to bleed, to the point where she no longer could feel the physical pain, trapped as she was in this enclosing reality of hers. “KOMMEN SIE AUS MEINEM KOPF HERAUS!” she barked at herself furiously, eyes shut determinedly, and not quite realizing she had spoken these words out loud or how on earth they had escaped the safe chamber of her mind, but her eyes snapped open the moment they became attuned to Obergefreiter Albrecht having walked into the garage and looking at her enquiringly, worried and confused.
“Wie geht es dir, Herr Leutnant?” he asked, concerned, but Dirk only threw a brief glance at her blooded hand, and then straightened her tunic absentmindedly.
“Alles in Ordnung,” she heavily guaranteed with a grave tone, and walked past him with an impatient, restless stride.
The next two days did not go any easier on the Leutnant, but now something of a more irritating quality had entered her mind and refused to leave. Jäger had been taken to the military prison, and though she knew not whether he was still imprisoned for his knightly, brave deeds, she felt the obligation to visit him at least once considering how she had played a critical role in the events which had unfolded, and guilt had not lessened still even if a week and a half had passed. Let him rot behind the bars and have his hide roughened by the crude environment, let him forget the satin and velvet, the good life and convenience of everything he had so become accustomed to, but that small feeling nudged at her still and made her frown fiercely at first in irritation, then scoff, afterwards point-blank deny herself such an obligation, until she finally sighed wearily as she lay on the sand with her back leaned against a pile of tyres thrown outside the tents, and smoking, the platoon resting that warm, scorching morning while enjoying their canned lunch. When she could no longer hold it inside her, she turned to Reiner.
“Reiner,” she addressed him, “Lassen Sie uns eine Hypothese machen.”
The man, who was lying next to her and been resting, watching absentmindedly Kampfer giving playful punches to Kord, turned his head over his shoulder, “Ja, Herr Leutnant.”
“Lassen Sie uns annehmen dass Sie gekommen sind um diese Person zu kennen – eine hypothetische Person, Reiner. Sie werden zu ihm verwendet, alles seiend, dass Sie verachten aber dann es gibt Zeiten, wenn er Ihnen Dinge gibt, hat er nicht vorher … Er handelt auf wandernde Weisen, es ist alles sehr … in der Luft, und verlässt Sie unsicher seiner wahren Motive, wenn Sie nicht sogar wissen, was seine Meinung zurzeit durchgehen konnte. Denken Sie dass, wenn jemand Sie wissen, wen Sie Tat auf eine verschiedene Weise gesehen haben, fortsetzt, so, eine dumme Grasnarbe zu sein – dass sie noch Ihre Anstrengungen verdienen?” she asked him curiously, and looked at him as if she truly believed the comrade could provide the faintest trace of assistance through his words.
“Ich weiß nicht,” Reiner said, and slightly frowned. “Was ist diese Person zu Ihnen, Herr Leutnant?”
“Ein echter Schmerz, muss er etwas anderes sein?”
“So, Sie noch wie diese Person?”
“Nein, ich hasse ihn, Reiner,” she assured him in a strict tone, to which the soldier appeared at first slightly confused, but then he contemplated on the issue.
“Gerade wie hypothetisch ist dieser Hass, Herr Leutnant?”
“Sehr, sehr hypothetisch, Reiner.”
“So, dann hängt es ab, Herr Leutnant.”
“Auf was?” Dirk asked him, her eyebrows curving inquisitively.
“Nun … Sie sorgen sich genug, Herr Leutnant?”
The man was staring at her expectantly, but she could only stare back blankly, her expression bearing a numb quality to it as she forgot to blink for a few moments, that very question piercing through her mind with a forceful demand and called for her to yield to its sheer power simply because she knew she could not answer it. With an indifferent glance she diverted her gaze towards the horizon before them, green eyes gleaming with sunlight, and she scoffed, before taking a long sip of water from her flask.
“Wenn Sie sich genug sorgen dann wird es jede Abneigung überwiegen, die Sie für die Person haben könnten,” Reiner spoke again in his clear, low voice, and then briefly turned his attention to the other soldiers that were drinking beer or playing with cards set upon a thin pile of old papers. “Ich meine, jeder hat ihre schlechteren Tage – ”
“Wie steht’s mit Jahrzehnten, Reiner, wie steht’s mit der faulen Genetik!” Dirk cut him in briskly, her tone intolerant and her frustration more than apparent through her facial features, her irritation, that bright gleam which lightened up her eyes and filled them with life, with disappointment, with exasperation.
“Wo es Interesse gibt, gibt es Empathie,” Reiner insisted. “Ich glaube dass der Schlüssel darin besteht, dass die Reinheit der Zuneigung nicht gemessen werden kann, einfach jemanden mögend – der die leichteste Aufgabe ist! Jeder möchte irgendjemanden. Echte Verhaftung jedoch, Herr Leutnant, und Sorge wird aufrichtig gegründet, wenn Sie vollkommen gut von den schlechten Charakterzügen der Person wissen und noch fortsetzen, sie sogar trotz dieser zu brauchen.”
Dirk slowly pulled the cigarette from her mouth, her head turning to look at the man and with nothing short of influenced about her features as she stared at him, his words infiltrating her mind and the woman contemplating on them with painful understanding of their true meaning as she did so, and to hear such being spoken by a person so close to him was different than simply thinking of it herself because it proved how true and heartfelt they were. He was more than honest in his assessment, and the woman knew not how to respond to it. “Gerade wie hypothetisch ist dieser … Schlüssel, Reiner?” she asked him with a frown.
“Sehr, sehr hypothetisch, Herr Leutnant,” the man responded.
“Ich dachte so,” the woman murmured, and took another drag from the cigarette, and stayed quiet, staring ahead and yet at nowhere in particular, a weary sigh escaping her throat at these complicated matters life offered. Reiner observed her thoroughly, and only slightly tilted his head to the side while his eyes remained upon his Leutnant’s face to further examine his frustrated countenance. He had not before witnessed his superior being so troubled with regard to an issue that was not military, or even one which involved a person, and thus his interest was peaked and genuine.
“Ich meine kein Vergehen, natürlich, Herr Leutnant, aber haben Sie nicht gedacht, dass, vielleicht, diese Qualitäten dieser Person die lassen Sie ihn hassen, selbe sind, für welche diese Person Sie auch hassen kann?” he asked the Leutnant, and Dirk turned her head over her shoulder to look back at him. “Immerhin ist es unsere Fehler und Marotten, die für unsere Natur am charakteristischsten sind und uns weit mehr als die guten Charakterzüge definieren, jemals konnte. Und ehrlich gesagt, Herr Leutnant, ist das nicht wirklich über den Hass, stimmt dass? Reiner Hass ist solch ein vages Gefühl, Sie fühlen es, wenn Sie jemanden zum ersten Mal treffen, oder wenn Sie mit Leuten aufeinander wirken müssen, mögen Sie aus verschiedenen Gründen nicht – wie tut man mit ihrer Schwiegermutter! – aber Sie nahmen offensichtlich die Zeit, um mich meiner Meinung zu fragen, und Sie scheinen, sich genug zu sorgen, da Sie solch eine Meinung brauchen, sonst hätten Sie nur die Person ohne einen Sekunde-Gedanken ausgeschlossen,” he said, closely following the Leutnant’s facial features.
“Aber Sie haben die zweiten Gedanken, sind Sie nicht, und es ist diese Unklarheit, die deutlich zeigt, dass das mehr viel kompliziert ist als, jemanden einfach zu hassen. Jeder kann irgendjemanden hassen, aber Sie sind nicht bereit, irgendjemandem die zweiten Chancen zu geben. Vielleicht ist es Hass, geformt in die Sorge oder Interesse, oder was dafür Sie ist, mögen es nennen – aber dann sprechen wir auf den Hass in seiner homogenen Form nicht, um damit zu beginnen, jetzt sind wir?”
If the woman had not been affected by Reiner’s words before, now she looked more than heavily troubled and speechless as she stared at him with an unresponsive gaze, unable to say anything and her eyebrows curved into a fierce frown, her lips tightened into a straight line and her forehead wrinkled.
“Sie stören mich, Reiner,” she simply said.
“So, natürlich sollte das keine Ihrer Sorge sein, Herr Leutnant,” the man added with a small smile. “Immerhin ist es nur eine Hypothese.”
“… Ja,” the woman responded dryly, and forgot to smoke from the cigarette lifelessly hanging from the corner of her lips, before she jerked her head away and stared into the nothingness of the desert. Reiner did not break his gaze away from his superior and, rather, looked at him with renewed interest and curiosity, as if there were things he had understood but knew had to maintain silent for now, else it would stir the Leutnant’s irritation furthermore, but then again, the Leutnant must have certainly realized his hypothetical assumptions had been a little more than suspicious.
“So … diese hypothetische Person, Herr Leutnant,” he began in a seemingly innocent tone. “Haben sie sandte vielleicht irgendwelche hypothetischen Briefe?” he questioned the Leutnant with a sly, knowing smirk, his blue eyes alight with recognition and insight.
Dirk returned her gaze to his direction and arched an eyebrow. “Reiner.”
“Ja, Herr Leutnant.”
“Verschlossen.”
And so the next moments passed in silence, Dirk smoking desperately from her cigarette and with Reiner simply lying by her side, occasionally laughing whenever Kampfer and Kord did anything stupid enough to deserve his attention, the woman lost in her own thoughts and reverie seeping through her veins as her mind fed from her inner distress and restlessness, and one cigarette replaced another, the ashes falling into the sand and disappearing beneath its smooth texture. Reiner’s words were also circling around her head and disabling her from any peace of mind when she decided it was time to enjoy some, but alas, as if she could control something as unlikely as that. She breathed deeply in a sheer effort to put her thoughts in order, but when she could no longer achieve as much or even stop the continuous flow of questions to which she bore no answers, her head turned to the side once more.
“Nein, es ist unmöglich mit dieser Person zu leben, Reiner!” she rasped and fumed intolerantly. “Der Gedanke selbst ist lächerlich, ich sage Ihnen, es würde mich zum Ende meines besseren Urteils treiben, wie es bereits ist! Ist das es wert? Nein, und verdienen sie die Zeit und Anstrengung? Zum Teufel mit ihnen!”
Instead, what met her was a very triumphant – “Ha, wusste ich es! Ich wusste dass es über eine Frau war!” the man announced with a large smile, his eyes bright with amusement as he stared at her with an exultant, delighted face, for he had known from the very beginning the Leutnant was only ever concealing the ‘she’ behind the ‘he’ in an attempt to be as vague as possible about the issue, but pity that the soldier was not quite as easily tricked as one may have prefered. Dirk, naturally, frowned at this but she had no time to properly react, for, within an instant, the rest of the soldiers of her platoon who had been previously tending to various other chores and who had overheard this latest bit of interaction immediately jumped to her direction and threw their bodies downwards to sit on the sand with their knees bent.
“Ist es eine Frau, Herr Leutnant? Oh, es ist!”
“Sie sagten uns nicht, dass es über eine Frau war, Herr Leutnant!”
“Was –” Dirk began with an intense frown, but the other men almost devoured her in questions that had no such precedence to the point where she was left speechless and helpless to their sudden intrusion.
“Wir hatten keine Idee Sie wurden mit irgendjemandem eingeschlossen, Herr Leutnant, Sie erzählten uns nie über sie!”
“Ist sie Blondine, Herr Leutnant?” Schütze Menner asked her, and the woman’s head jerked to the right at the soldier looking at her enquiringly, her perplexity more than obvious, as was her disorientation by everyone having taken their positions around her and each having his own question to pose. It might have appeared comical to anyone witnessing this situation from afar – and Reiner was already laughing, as it was – but the woman’s face looked both horrified and confused as she looked at them.
“Braun – ”
“Mit blauen Augen, Herr Leutnant?” Obergefreiter Kord Albrecht demanded with a large smile from her left.
“Nein, sie sind grau – ”
“Hübsch, geschmeidig und schlank?” Jürgen Kampfer requested to know.
“Nicht … ganz.”
“Sorgt sie sich?” Reiner wished to know.
“Ich … würde das nicht sagen.”
“Sorgen Sie sich um sie, Herr Leutnant?”
“Nein, sie macht mein Leben eine jämmerliche Hölle.”
“Wie alt ist sie, Herr Leutnant?”
“Ich weiß nicht!”
“Vermissen Sie sie?”
“… Nein.”
“Wie war Ihr letztes Gespräch wie, Herr Leutnant?”
“Sehr … anatomisch.”
“Wie lange kennen Sie sie?”
“Ich würde ungefähr zweieinhalb Monate sagen.”
At this, the soldiers remained quiet and looked at her with perplexed curiosity, their stern gazes demanding and the woman swallowed down in her dry throat.
“Es war sehr … stürmische Beziehung.”
“Wie ist ihr Name?” Albrecht inquired curiously.
“Ich … nie …”
“ – Gefragt?” Unteroffizier Alfred Gartman interrupted him.
“Log sie zu Ihnen darüber?” Kampfer proposed with a sly smirk etched across his face.
“Log sie über ihr Alter? Sie alle tun das!” Siegfried Waisner remarked, and if Dirk had not been entirely disoriented by this point, then this was the perfect time to be so.
“Ich werde Ihnen erzählen was zu tun, Herr Leutnant,” Unteroffizier Mathias Plesner said from the near distance, a half-emptied beer bottle hanging from his left hand as he stumbled to his Leutnant. “Sie werden sie erreichen, nah genug hinaufgehen und weich Ihre Hände um ihr Gesicht stellen,” he said, taking Kord’s face into his hands, and his friend could smell the reek of alcohol in his mouth, “schauen auf sie tief in den Augen und sagen … ‘ich hasse Sie, Sie Hure stinkend!’ Oh Ja, hasse ich Sie! Sie sind eine Hure, und ich habe genug Zeit mit Ihnen, Sie dumme fette Kuh vergeudet!”
Frowning, and feeling the man’s hands pressing against his neck, Kord turned his head over the others and asked, “Wie ist sein Problem?”
“Die Hure ist mein Problem!” Unteroffizier Plesner barked, and he let go of his comrade to tilt his head backwards and finish the beer. Once he had gulped down the remaining of its content, he threw the bottle angrily on the sand, glaring at the otehrs. “Ich bin hier, meinen Arsch in diesem Stapel der Scheiße riskierend, während sie trinkt und mit beliebigem Schwein tanzt, kommt ihr Weg mit!”
“Eine Kuh, die sich mit einem Schwein fortpflanzend, Mathias, sieht aus dass die Nachkommenschaft, verformte kleine Mutanten einbeinig sein wird,” Schütze Menner remarked, and the others smiled.
“Seien Sie nicht absurd,” a frowning Plesner said, appearing confused, “sie ist nicht alt genug um Ihre Mutter zu sein.”
In a moment Menner had jumped up from his position and attacked his friend, throwing him on the sand to fight him; their comrades were too busy bursting into hysterical fits of laughter to separate them, and it was only when Reiner Luhmann finally sat up and strode to their direction that the two of them were set apart.
“Seien Sie nicht so melodramatisch, Mathias!” Kampfer told him with a laugh.
“Ich werde Ihren Gesichtsblick alle melodramatisch machen wenn ich mit beendet werde, Ihnen Dummkopf!” Mathias warned him, fighting against Reiner’s grasp, and the others roared with laughter once more.
“Ich werde ihr wieder nie schreiben!” Kampfer announced with a growl, and threw himself next to the other men by the tyres but in the next moment he sat up again, murmuring something about a pencil as he searched around for any.
“Ich denke, dass Sie ihr schreiben müssen, Herr Leutnant,” Reiner addressed his superior once the situation had calmed down a little.
Dirk frowned, and gazed at the man curiously. “Und erzählen Sie ihr was, Reiner?”
“So, Sie konnten anfangen, indem Sie sie unter der Hypothese fragten, hasst sie Sie, so viel wie Sie sie hassen, was ihre sehr hypothetischen Motive schließlich sind,” he responded with a smile, his tone amused and more than clearly showing his subtle, harmless mockery.
“Reiner.”
“Ja, Herr Leutnant.”
“Wie viel schätzen Sie Ihre Zähne?”
The smile vanished from the man’s lips.
“Ziemlich viel, Herr Leutnant.”
“Ich dachte so, Reiner. Ich dachte so.”
It was only fifteen minutes later when the last cigarette had been smoked that the Leutnant suddenly sat up from his seat and let the tobacco roll drop to the sand, whence she extinguished it with her boot. She shoved her hands through the pockets of her trousers and began to walk away – at which point she stopped dead in her tracks when she heard the soldiers mockingly singing to her in a choir:
“Liebling, mein Herz läßt dich grüßen, nur mit dir allein kann es glücklich sein! Alle meine Träume, die süßen, leg ich in den Gruß, den Gruß mit hinein! Las nicht die Tage verfließen, bald ist der Frühling dahin. Liebling, mein Herz läßt dich grüßen, und dir sagen, wie gut ich dir bin!”
She turned around, and arched an inquisitive eyebrow as she stared at them with an expression that suggested they were the most ridiculous beings in this world, before she turned back around with a scoff of disbelief and walked away from them. Still, even as she had now become a mere ink blotch in the distance the men continued in their laughing, jeering tones.
“Noch verknüpft uns nur Sympathie noch sagen wir ‘Sie’ und küßten uns nie! Doch im Traume sag’ ich schon ‘Du’ und flüstere leis dir zu: Liebling, mein Herz …”
The time was around two o’clock when she pushed the door open and entered the room underground, wasting no time in approaching the officer behind the desk. “Hauptmann Rolf Jäger, der Gruppenkommandant der Dritten Gruppe, hier vor eineinhalb Woche gebracht wurde, ist er noch innen?” she inquired.
“Er ist, Herr Leutnant, und ich denke nicht dass er irgendwo in den nächsten zwei Tagen auch geht,” the officer told her in a grave tone, and then in the next few moments that passed Dirk was walking alongside him across the narrow corridors at each side of which stood the cells, small and suffocating, the bars rusty and the walls only ever enriching that sense of claustrophobia as they walked further along the passageway. Once they had finally reached Jäger’s cell the officer motioned to unlock the door, but then Dirk grasped hold of his arm to prevent him from doing this, assuring him it was not necessary. The man appeared momentarily confused but then briskly nodded, walking away to leave them alone.
The woman turned her head and looked at the cell, inside which stood a creature unrecognizable to her, a man who appeared homeless and rugged, a thin beard decorating his face, his hair greasy and untidy, with a constant sneer etched across his lips, and that was the only characteristic of him which proved to the woman he was still the same man. She remained silent and only ever observed him closely from her superior position, tall and imposing, dressed in her military uniform and staring at him with a stern expression and eyes that distantly gleamed in the dark atmosphere surrounding them. Something tugged at her heart when she saw him like this, but it was not an unpleasant feeling – rather, it was the satisfaction at watching him experience what he had never before, shoved from his safety zone and into the wolf’s mouth where family contacts and heritage had no significance or meaning. Yes, let him live through such wretchedness, as he properly deserved, then he would know what it meant to be a person of no privileges and no support whatsoever apart from one’s own strength and resilience. The silence was unbroken and her arms remained hanging down each by her side, before she suddenly took a step closer.
“Ich kam, um mein Beileid für den Verlust auszudrücken,” she spoke softly, her eyes gleaming as they stared through his own grey countenance. “Sie sagten dass er tot war, und ich kam um Ihnen zu sagen, dass …” She hesitated for a moment; “… ich um ihn trauerte. Wenn nur er wusste, wie viel ich ihn vermisste. Wenn nur er wusste, wie ich … wie ich ihn in der Nähe von mir hätte bleiben lassen mögen. Wie ich wollte, dass er zu mir zurückkam. Dass ich an ihn trotz meiner besten Anstrengungen dachte und ihn gut trotz meiner Wut wünschte. Wenn es irgendetwas gibt, dass ich bedauere ist, dass ich ihm nie erzählte, wie viel ich ihn brauchte. Wie viel ich mich wirklich sorgte,” she whispered, and it was with a pained sigh that she said, “Nun, es ist jetzt spät.”
Her gaze sharpened, and she took a step backwards as she created that distance between them.
“Ich glaube dass ich nichts anderes habe um mit Ihnen jetzt zu tun,” she announced in a resolute tone, eyes harsh and determined. “Nichts überhaupt. Nichts,” she assured him through gritted teeth, before she turned around and began to walk away.
Translation
GET OUT OF MY HEAD!
Are you all right, Herr Leutnant?
Everything is in order.
Reiner, let us make a hypothesis.
Yes, Herr Leutnant.
Let us assume that you have come to know this person – a hypothetical person, Reiner. You are used to him being everything you despise but then there are times when he gives you things he hasn’t before … He acts in erratic ways, it’s all very … up in the air, and leaves you unsure of his true motives when you don’t even know what could be going through his mind at the time. Do you think that when someone you know, whom you have seen act in a different way, continues being, well, a stupid sod – that they still deserve your efforts?
I don’t know. What is this person to you, Herr Leutnant?
A real pain, to begin with.
Well, do you still like this person?
No, I hate him, Reiner.
Just how hypothetical is this hatred, Herr Leutnant?
Very, very hypothetical, Reiner.
Well, then, it depends, Herr Leutnant.
On what?
Well … do you care enough, Herr Leutnant?
If you care enough, then it will outweigh any aversion you might have for the person. I mean, everyone has their worse days –
How about decades, Reiner, how about rotten genetics!
Where there’s interest, there’s empathy. I believe the key is that the purity of affection cannot be measured by simply liking someone – that is the easiest task! Everyone can like anyone. Genuine attachment, however, Herr Leutnant, and concern are truly founded when you know perfectly well of the person’s bad traits and still continue to need them even despite these.
Just how hypothetical is this … key, Reiner?
Very, very hypothetical, Herr Leutnant.
I thought so.
I do not mean any offence, of course, Herr Leutnant, but have you not considered that, perhaps, these qualities of this person that make you hate him are the very same ones for which that person may also hate you? After all, it is our flaws and quirks that are most characteristic of our nature and define us far more than the good traits ever could. And to be honest, Herr Leutnant, this isn’t really about hatred, is it? Pure hatred is such a vague sentiment, you feel it when you meet someone for the first time or when you have to interact with people you dislike for various reasons – like one does with their mother-in-law! – but you obviously took the time to ask me of my opinion and you appear to care enough since you need such an opinion, otherwise you would have only shut the person out without a second thought. But you are having second thoughts, are you not, and it is this uncertainty that clearly shows it is far more complicated than to simply hate someone. Everyone can hate anyone, but you aren’t willing to give anyone second chances. Perhaps it is hatred, moulded into concern or interest or whatever it is you wish to call it – but then we’re not talking of hatred in its homogeneous form to begin with, now are we?
You disturb me, Reiner.
Well, of course this should be none of your concern, Herr Leutnant. After all, it is only a hypothesis.
… Yes.
So this … hypothetical person, Herr Leutnant. Have they, by any chance, sent any hypothetical letters?
Reiner.
Yes, Herr Leutnant.
Shut up.
No, it is impossible to live with that person, Reiner! The thought itself is ridiculous, I’m telling you, it would drive me to the end of my better judgement, as it already is! Is it worth it? No, and do they deserve the time and effort? To hell with them!
Ha, I knew it! I knew it was about a woman!
Is it a woman, Herr Leutnant? Oh, it is!
You didn’t tell us it was about a woman, Herr Leutnant!
What –
We had no idea you were involved with anyone, Herr Leutnant, you never told us about her!
Is she blonde, Herr Leutnant?
Brown –
With blue eyes, Herr Leutnant?
No, they’re grey –
Pretty, lithe and slender?
Not … quite.
Is she caring?
I … wouldn’t say that.
Do you care for her, Herr Leutnant?
No, she makes my life a miserable hell.
How old is she, Herr Leutnant?
I don’t know!
Do you miss her?
… No.
What was your latest conversation like, Herr Leutnant?
Very … anatomical.
How long do you know her?
I’d say about two and a half months.
It was a very … stormy relationship.
What is her name?
I … never …
– Asked?
Did she lie to you about it?
Did she lie about her age? They all do that!
I’ll tell you what to do, Herr Leutnant. You will come up to her, walk up closely enough and softly put your hands around her face, look at her deeply in the eyes and say … ‘I hate you, you stinking whore!’ Oh yes, I hate you! You are a whore and I’ve wasted enough time with you, you stupid fat cow!
What is his problem?
The whore is my problem! I am here, risking my arse in this pile of shit while she’s out drinking and dancing with whatever pig comes along her way!
A cow breeding with a pig, Mathias, looks like the offspring will be one-legged, deformed little mutants.
Don’t be absurd, she’s not old enough to be your mother.
Don’t be so melodramatic, Mathias!
I’ll make your face look all melodramatic when I’m finished with you, bonehead!
I’ll never write to her again!
I think you need to write to her, Herr Leutnant.
And tell her what, Reiner?
Well, you could start by asking her, under the hypothesis she hates you as much as you hate her, what her very hypothetical motives are, after all.
Reiner.
Yes, Herr Leutnant.
How much do you value your teeth?
Quite a lot, Herr Leutnant.
I thought so, Reiner. I thought so.
Hauptmann Rolf Jäger, Group Commander of the Third Group, was brought here a week and a half ago, is he still inside?
He is, Herr Leutnant, and I don’t think he is going anywhere in the next two days, either.
I came to offer my condolences for the loss. You said he was dead, and I came to tell you that … I mourned for him. If only he knew how much I missed him. If only he knew how I … how I would have liked to have him stay close to me. How I wanted him to come back to me. That I was thinking of him despite my best efforts and wished him well despite my anger. If there is anything I regret is that I never told him how much I needed him. How much I really did care.
Well, it is late now.
I guess I have nothing else to do with you now. Nothing at all. Nothing.
But there came the moment that broke something inside her. Eyes of deepest green could only stare at him, confused and forlorn, as he spoke of how such a man had never existed to begin with, that if he had he was, now, dead; that what she saw in front of her was the closest she could distinguish of Hauptmann Rolf Jäger and that she was an idiot to have spared a thought for him that only cared to see him free himself from the shackles that held him hostage to his heritage. He continued to talk and tell her of how he was not the one to bring out the whore in her, but little did she pay any attention to such statements at this point when all her mind had been scorched with was the gravity of such a refusal. He called himself the villain. And to further emphasize the undeniable truth, he broke free from her at the engine sounds of distant Kubelwagen reaching her ears with a ringing quality to them as though they belonged to a reality different than the one she was presently living in, the woman entrapped into his lies, his deception, his cruelty, the wasted efforts. Everything. He was dead now. He was dead.
No, she could not hear the sound of justice being served, for it was no justice, to begin with. He was not the villain. And this was not a story. Her eyes were unable to break away from that faint, cruel smile risen across his lips, hitting her violently on her body with the ominous pain of viscera being slashed open, and she knew she had to look elsewhere if only to spare herself that pang of despair to stare at that gesture of inhumanity as the smirk offered, but completely incapacitated as she was to the most elementary form of movement, and the numbness seeping through her pulsating veins, with her arms each hanging down by her sides useless and lifeless, the woman only stared at him in wretched silence as he turned around and walked to the officers of the military police, looking crushed and injured, but there was no wound visible through her body, her bright, glassy eyes lost and forlorn as she gazed into the nothingness he had created.
*
And then came hatred. The next days followed with the bristly, harsh texture of uncultivated lands, the flow of time bearing the same raw, crude quality and leading them from one day to the other, the morning morphing into the clearest dark Prussian blue skies of the night, the woman pre-occupied with military duties that saw her leading her soldiers into offensives, standing next to the mechanic in the garage while he was tending to a half-track during the hours they were not battling and simply resting on top of a pile of old tyres, brooding and in reverie, her mind often catching words such as ‘retreated enemy lines’, ‘secured ground clearance’ or ‘adjusting the torsion bar suspension’ but in reality only absentmindedly agreeing to something she did not even know what it was. She welcomed the heavy line of duty and tended to each matter she was required to, gladly burning herself with overexertion. It was her own way to make herself easily exhausted through time; the more weary she was, the less her mind was prone to thoughts she wanted to avoid, the less she felt, the more her physical stress intensified and overrode any other need, and thus the less she thought of the Hauptmann. After all, had this not been the exact method she had resorted to in Hamburg? For all that, it was not an infallible method and she had only deceived herself to think it would have been effective enough in the long run, for she had been accustomed to the hard toil and interminable hours of work and duty to such a point that her body had easily adjusted to the demands of her duties and exhaustion became such an inseparable part of her that, essentially, it was exactly the same as with not being tired at all. And then, then the thoughts would return to her, and then anger would reign over all other sentiments.
She had been sleeping for one or two hours at most each night, black circles drawn underneath her tired, hollow eyes in that overexerted, fatigued face, and indeed she did appear as utterly worn out once an entire week had passed, but which to the woman had felt having lasted no more than a day, not quite distinguishing day from night, the makeshift bed within the tent to the texture of the sand, or the universal difference of dawn and dusk, her actions perfect, precise and mechanized, her lips constantly drawn into a stern, severe line, her appearance silent and forbidding, speaking only when necessary and with regard to military matters, or when she commanded orders. The soldiers in her platoon had understood that something had caused the Leutnant to act in such a way, for even if they knew his strict, military discipline and straightforward ways, even they could perceive something was, indeed, bothering him. It was a silent communication amongst each of the men under her command and a common agreement, but they did not address any issue of the sort but, rather, showed understanding at their officer’s present state, making certain that they carried out each of his orders perfectly as not to disappoint him or augment his contained wrath. It was not until the eighth day, however, that the Leutnant vented out such a strongly held feeling.
Standing alone within the garage, she kicked at the door of the half-track with an angry groan, her face distorted into a hateful expression of unprecedented rage and intolerance, the source of such now violent wrath being founded upon precisely those thoughts that were determined enough to linger, infiltrating her mind and violating the space she needed from them. They were distractions, they were hateful distractions she wanted to abolish forever, but they were also not thoughts per se but an infinite list of questions she kept asking herself. He was nothing but the faintest trace of human essence, an animal, a worthless speck of a man for whom she could only feel contempt and derision, a vain, self-centered aristocrat, a thoughtless person, shallow, selfish and imperious, and she hated him – she hated him! – therefore, why did she still think of him? Why could she not fully concentrate on the task at hand even if her fingers were with a mechanized movement tending to her duty, why did her mind wander to a different reality wholly dominated by his wretched presence? And, indeed, when one felt nothing but hatred towards another person, usually they would not spend time by themselves to live through the essence of such a sentiment but, rather, ignore them and return to being pre-occupied with different other chores or assignments and went on with their lives? So why could she not simply forget about him but instead wasted hours and hours, days, nights and even the pitifully few moments of sleep contemplating on her hatred and contempt? Why could she not go on, what was that kept her there, into that static point in time, and she, unable to move, only stared what lay behind her, the future left unnoticed, for she held no real interest for it? She hated him for violating her life, and she hated herself for having been prone to such pathetic weaknesses such as had forced her to care about the depth of his soul, the hidden motives that still were mysterious to her and traits of his character she had discovered from time to time, that she had wasted her efforts into attempting to pull out a more human part of him, which, once witnessed, could not be forgotten.
Wretched fate and wretched human nature! She did not have any time to waste or thoughts to spare for someone whose disposition was so overwhelming overbearing and self-important that it chocked her, suffocated her and threatened to drive her to the end of her wits. He did not deserve it. He did not deserve her friendship, her empathy, he did not deserve her efforts, her heart or her sentiments, her thoughts and expectations, he failed, he failed in everything, failed to prove to her why exactly he had a right to claim ownership of her, to pursue and challenge her, to violate her life and threaten her family, blackmail her, rape her and beat her to the ground, use and exploit her until there would be nothing left of her but emptiness, her being sucked out and rendered into a hopeless state of living without essence or purpose. And still, still she went back to him like the idiot she was, and she could not understand. She could not understand why she could not get rid of him. All this circled around her mind with a merciless force, and she slowly raised her previously hanging head while the palms of her hands each touched against the surface of the door, in that reclining position next to the Kubelwagen as she exercised sheer efforts to bring herself together, but as her bloodshed, worn out eyes narrowed to slits suddenly the force of her inner distress was unleashed and her clenched fist struck at the door. Get out of my head! She hit at the door, again, and again, with anger, with despair, and self-hatred, until her roughened, white knuckles began to bleed, to the point where she no longer could feel the physical pain, trapped as she was in this enclosing reality of hers. “KOMMEN SIE AUS MEINEM KOPF HERAUS!” she barked at herself furiously, eyes shut determinedly, and not quite realizing she had spoken these words out loud or how on earth they had escaped the safe chamber of her mind, but her eyes snapped open the moment they became attuned to Obergefreiter Albrecht having walked into the garage and looking at her enquiringly, worried and confused.
“Wie geht es dir, Herr Leutnant?” he asked, concerned, but Dirk only threw a brief glance at her blooded hand, and then straightened her tunic absentmindedly.
“Alles in Ordnung,” she heavily guaranteed with a grave tone, and walked past him with an impatient, restless stride.
The next two days did not go any easier on the Leutnant, but now something of a more irritating quality had entered her mind and refused to leave. Jäger had been taken to the military prison, and though she knew not whether he was still imprisoned for his knightly, brave deeds, she felt the obligation to visit him at least once considering how she had played a critical role in the events which had unfolded, and guilt had not lessened still even if a week and a half had passed. Let him rot behind the bars and have his hide roughened by the crude environment, let him forget the satin and velvet, the good life and convenience of everything he had so become accustomed to, but that small feeling nudged at her still and made her frown fiercely at first in irritation, then scoff, afterwards point-blank deny herself such an obligation, until she finally sighed wearily as she lay on the sand with her back leaned against a pile of tyres thrown outside the tents, and smoking, the platoon resting that warm, scorching morning while enjoying their canned lunch. When she could no longer hold it inside her, she turned to Reiner.
“Reiner,” she addressed him, “Lassen Sie uns eine Hypothese machen.”
The man, who was lying next to her and been resting, watching absentmindedly Kampfer giving playful punches to Kord, turned his head over his shoulder, “Ja, Herr Leutnant.”
“Lassen Sie uns annehmen dass Sie gekommen sind um diese Person zu kennen – eine hypothetische Person, Reiner. Sie werden zu ihm verwendet, alles seiend, dass Sie verachten aber dann es gibt Zeiten, wenn er Ihnen Dinge gibt, hat er nicht vorher … Er handelt auf wandernde Weisen, es ist alles sehr … in der Luft, und verlässt Sie unsicher seiner wahren Motive, wenn Sie nicht sogar wissen, was seine Meinung zurzeit durchgehen konnte. Denken Sie dass, wenn jemand Sie wissen, wen Sie Tat auf eine verschiedene Weise gesehen haben, fortsetzt, so, eine dumme Grasnarbe zu sein – dass sie noch Ihre Anstrengungen verdienen?” she asked him curiously, and looked at him as if she truly believed the comrade could provide the faintest trace of assistance through his words.
“Ich weiß nicht,” Reiner said, and slightly frowned. “Was ist diese Person zu Ihnen, Herr Leutnant?”
“Ein echter Schmerz, muss er etwas anderes sein?”
“So, Sie noch wie diese Person?”
“Nein, ich hasse ihn, Reiner,” she assured him in a strict tone, to which the soldier appeared at first slightly confused, but then he contemplated on the issue.
“Gerade wie hypothetisch ist dieser Hass, Herr Leutnant?”
“Sehr, sehr hypothetisch, Reiner.”
“So, dann hängt es ab, Herr Leutnant.”
“Auf was?” Dirk asked him, her eyebrows curving inquisitively.
“Nun … Sie sorgen sich genug, Herr Leutnant?”
The man was staring at her expectantly, but she could only stare back blankly, her expression bearing a numb quality to it as she forgot to blink for a few moments, that very question piercing through her mind with a forceful demand and called for her to yield to its sheer power simply because she knew she could not answer it. With an indifferent glance she diverted her gaze towards the horizon before them, green eyes gleaming with sunlight, and she scoffed, before taking a long sip of water from her flask.
“Wenn Sie sich genug sorgen dann wird es jede Abneigung überwiegen, die Sie für die Person haben könnten,” Reiner spoke again in his clear, low voice, and then briefly turned his attention to the other soldiers that were drinking beer or playing with cards set upon a thin pile of old papers. “Ich meine, jeder hat ihre schlechteren Tage – ”
“Wie steht’s mit Jahrzehnten, Reiner, wie steht’s mit der faulen Genetik!” Dirk cut him in briskly, her tone intolerant and her frustration more than apparent through her facial features, her irritation, that bright gleam which lightened up her eyes and filled them with life, with disappointment, with exasperation.
“Wo es Interesse gibt, gibt es Empathie,” Reiner insisted. “Ich glaube dass der Schlüssel darin besteht, dass die Reinheit der Zuneigung nicht gemessen werden kann, einfach jemanden mögend – der die leichteste Aufgabe ist! Jeder möchte irgendjemanden. Echte Verhaftung jedoch, Herr Leutnant, und Sorge wird aufrichtig gegründet, wenn Sie vollkommen gut von den schlechten Charakterzügen der Person wissen und noch fortsetzen, sie sogar trotz dieser zu brauchen.”
Dirk slowly pulled the cigarette from her mouth, her head turning to look at the man and with nothing short of influenced about her features as she stared at him, his words infiltrating her mind and the woman contemplating on them with painful understanding of their true meaning as she did so, and to hear such being spoken by a person so close to him was different than simply thinking of it herself because it proved how true and heartfelt they were. He was more than honest in his assessment, and the woman knew not how to respond to it. “Gerade wie hypothetisch ist dieser … Schlüssel, Reiner?” she asked him with a frown.
“Sehr, sehr hypothetisch, Herr Leutnant,” the man responded.
“Ich dachte so,” the woman murmured, and took another drag from the cigarette, and stayed quiet, staring ahead and yet at nowhere in particular, a weary sigh escaping her throat at these complicated matters life offered. Reiner observed her thoroughly, and only slightly tilted his head to the side while his eyes remained upon his Leutnant’s face to further examine his frustrated countenance. He had not before witnessed his superior being so troubled with regard to an issue that was not military, or even one which involved a person, and thus his interest was peaked and genuine.
“Ich meine kein Vergehen, natürlich, Herr Leutnant, aber haben Sie nicht gedacht, dass, vielleicht, diese Qualitäten dieser Person die lassen Sie ihn hassen, selbe sind, für welche diese Person Sie auch hassen kann?” he asked the Leutnant, and Dirk turned her head over her shoulder to look back at him. “Immerhin ist es unsere Fehler und Marotten, die für unsere Natur am charakteristischsten sind und uns weit mehr als die guten Charakterzüge definieren, jemals konnte. Und ehrlich gesagt, Herr Leutnant, ist das nicht wirklich über den Hass, stimmt dass? Reiner Hass ist solch ein vages Gefühl, Sie fühlen es, wenn Sie jemanden zum ersten Mal treffen, oder wenn Sie mit Leuten aufeinander wirken müssen, mögen Sie aus verschiedenen Gründen nicht – wie tut man mit ihrer Schwiegermutter! – aber Sie nahmen offensichtlich die Zeit, um mich meiner Meinung zu fragen, und Sie scheinen, sich genug zu sorgen, da Sie solch eine Meinung brauchen, sonst hätten Sie nur die Person ohne einen Sekunde-Gedanken ausgeschlossen,” he said, closely following the Leutnant’s facial features.
“Aber Sie haben die zweiten Gedanken, sind Sie nicht, und es ist diese Unklarheit, die deutlich zeigt, dass das mehr viel kompliziert ist als, jemanden einfach zu hassen. Jeder kann irgendjemanden hassen, aber Sie sind nicht bereit, irgendjemandem die zweiten Chancen zu geben. Vielleicht ist es Hass, geformt in die Sorge oder Interesse, oder was dafür Sie ist, mögen es nennen – aber dann sprechen wir auf den Hass in seiner homogenen Form nicht, um damit zu beginnen, jetzt sind wir?”
If the woman had not been affected by Reiner’s words before, now she looked more than heavily troubled and speechless as she stared at him with an unresponsive gaze, unable to say anything and her eyebrows curved into a fierce frown, her lips tightened into a straight line and her forehead wrinkled.
“Sie stören mich, Reiner,” she simply said.
“So, natürlich sollte das keine Ihrer Sorge sein, Herr Leutnant,” the man added with a small smile. “Immerhin ist es nur eine Hypothese.”
“… Ja,” the woman responded dryly, and forgot to smoke from the cigarette lifelessly hanging from the corner of her lips, before she jerked her head away and stared into the nothingness of the desert. Reiner did not break his gaze away from his superior and, rather, looked at him with renewed interest and curiosity, as if there were things he had understood but knew had to maintain silent for now, else it would stir the Leutnant’s irritation furthermore, but then again, the Leutnant must have certainly realized his hypothetical assumptions had been a little more than suspicious.
“So … diese hypothetische Person, Herr Leutnant,” he began in a seemingly innocent tone. “Haben sie sandte vielleicht irgendwelche hypothetischen Briefe?” he questioned the Leutnant with a sly, knowing smirk, his blue eyes alight with recognition and insight.
Dirk returned her gaze to his direction and arched an eyebrow. “Reiner.”
“Ja, Herr Leutnant.”
“Verschlossen.”
And so the next moments passed in silence, Dirk smoking desperately from her cigarette and with Reiner simply lying by her side, occasionally laughing whenever Kampfer and Kord did anything stupid enough to deserve his attention, the woman lost in her own thoughts and reverie seeping through her veins as her mind fed from her inner distress and restlessness, and one cigarette replaced another, the ashes falling into the sand and disappearing beneath its smooth texture. Reiner’s words were also circling around her head and disabling her from any peace of mind when she decided it was time to enjoy some, but alas, as if she could control something as unlikely as that. She breathed deeply in a sheer effort to put her thoughts in order, but when she could no longer achieve as much or even stop the continuous flow of questions to which she bore no answers, her head turned to the side once more.
“Nein, es ist unmöglich mit dieser Person zu leben, Reiner!” she rasped and fumed intolerantly. “Der Gedanke selbst ist lächerlich, ich sage Ihnen, es würde mich zum Ende meines besseren Urteils treiben, wie es bereits ist! Ist das es wert? Nein, und verdienen sie die Zeit und Anstrengung? Zum Teufel mit ihnen!”
Instead, what met her was a very triumphant – “Ha, wusste ich es! Ich wusste dass es über eine Frau war!” the man announced with a large smile, his eyes bright with amusement as he stared at her with an exultant, delighted face, for he had known from the very beginning the Leutnant was only ever concealing the ‘she’ behind the ‘he’ in an attempt to be as vague as possible about the issue, but pity that the soldier was not quite as easily tricked as one may have prefered. Dirk, naturally, frowned at this but she had no time to properly react, for, within an instant, the rest of the soldiers of her platoon who had been previously tending to various other chores and who had overheard this latest bit of interaction immediately jumped to her direction and threw their bodies downwards to sit on the sand with their knees bent.
“Ist es eine Frau, Herr Leutnant? Oh, es ist!”
“Sie sagten uns nicht, dass es über eine Frau war, Herr Leutnant!”
“Was –” Dirk began with an intense frown, but the other men almost devoured her in questions that had no such precedence to the point where she was left speechless and helpless to their sudden intrusion.
“Wir hatten keine Idee Sie wurden mit irgendjemandem eingeschlossen, Herr Leutnant, Sie erzählten uns nie über sie!”
“Ist sie Blondine, Herr Leutnant?” Schütze Menner asked her, and the woman’s head jerked to the right at the soldier looking at her enquiringly, her perplexity more than obvious, as was her disorientation by everyone having taken their positions around her and each having his own question to pose. It might have appeared comical to anyone witnessing this situation from afar – and Reiner was already laughing, as it was – but the woman’s face looked both horrified and confused as she looked at them.
“Braun – ”
“Mit blauen Augen, Herr Leutnant?” Obergefreiter Kord Albrecht demanded with a large smile from her left.
“Nein, sie sind grau – ”
“Hübsch, geschmeidig und schlank?” Jürgen Kampfer requested to know.
“Nicht … ganz.”
“Sorgt sie sich?” Reiner wished to know.
“Ich … würde das nicht sagen.”
“Sorgen Sie sich um sie, Herr Leutnant?”
“Nein, sie macht mein Leben eine jämmerliche Hölle.”
“Wie alt ist sie, Herr Leutnant?”
“Ich weiß nicht!”
“Vermissen Sie sie?”
“… Nein.”
“Wie war Ihr letztes Gespräch wie, Herr Leutnant?”
“Sehr … anatomisch.”
“Wie lange kennen Sie sie?”
“Ich würde ungefähr zweieinhalb Monate sagen.”
At this, the soldiers remained quiet and looked at her with perplexed curiosity, their stern gazes demanding and the woman swallowed down in her dry throat.
“Es war sehr … stürmische Beziehung.”
“Wie ist ihr Name?” Albrecht inquired curiously.
“Ich … nie …”
“ – Gefragt?” Unteroffizier Alfred Gartman interrupted him.
“Log sie zu Ihnen darüber?” Kampfer proposed with a sly smirk etched across his face.
“Log sie über ihr Alter? Sie alle tun das!” Siegfried Waisner remarked, and if Dirk had not been entirely disoriented by this point, then this was the perfect time to be so.
“Ich werde Ihnen erzählen was zu tun, Herr Leutnant,” Unteroffizier Mathias Plesner said from the near distance, a half-emptied beer bottle hanging from his left hand as he stumbled to his Leutnant. “Sie werden sie erreichen, nah genug hinaufgehen und weich Ihre Hände um ihr Gesicht stellen,” he said, taking Kord’s face into his hands, and his friend could smell the reek of alcohol in his mouth, “schauen auf sie tief in den Augen und sagen … ‘ich hasse Sie, Sie Hure stinkend!’ Oh Ja, hasse ich Sie! Sie sind eine Hure, und ich habe genug Zeit mit Ihnen, Sie dumme fette Kuh vergeudet!”
Frowning, and feeling the man’s hands pressing against his neck, Kord turned his head over the others and asked, “Wie ist sein Problem?”
“Die Hure ist mein Problem!” Unteroffizier Plesner barked, and he let go of his comrade to tilt his head backwards and finish the beer. Once he had gulped down the remaining of its content, he threw the bottle angrily on the sand, glaring at the otehrs. “Ich bin hier, meinen Arsch in diesem Stapel der Scheiße riskierend, während sie trinkt und mit beliebigem Schwein tanzt, kommt ihr Weg mit!”
“Eine Kuh, die sich mit einem Schwein fortpflanzend, Mathias, sieht aus dass die Nachkommenschaft, verformte kleine Mutanten einbeinig sein wird,” Schütze Menner remarked, and the others smiled.
“Seien Sie nicht absurd,” a frowning Plesner said, appearing confused, “sie ist nicht alt genug um Ihre Mutter zu sein.”
In a moment Menner had jumped up from his position and attacked his friend, throwing him on the sand to fight him; their comrades were too busy bursting into hysterical fits of laughter to separate them, and it was only when Reiner Luhmann finally sat up and strode to their direction that the two of them were set apart.
“Seien Sie nicht so melodramatisch, Mathias!” Kampfer told him with a laugh.
“Ich werde Ihren Gesichtsblick alle melodramatisch machen wenn ich mit beendet werde, Ihnen Dummkopf!” Mathias warned him, fighting against Reiner’s grasp, and the others roared with laughter once more.
“Ich werde ihr wieder nie schreiben!” Kampfer announced with a growl, and threw himself next to the other men by the tyres but in the next moment he sat up again, murmuring something about a pencil as he searched around for any.
“Ich denke, dass Sie ihr schreiben müssen, Herr Leutnant,” Reiner addressed his superior once the situation had calmed down a little.
Dirk frowned, and gazed at the man curiously. “Und erzählen Sie ihr was, Reiner?”
“So, Sie konnten anfangen, indem Sie sie unter der Hypothese fragten, hasst sie Sie, so viel wie Sie sie hassen, was ihre sehr hypothetischen Motive schließlich sind,” he responded with a smile, his tone amused and more than clearly showing his subtle, harmless mockery.
“Reiner.”
“Ja, Herr Leutnant.”
“Wie viel schätzen Sie Ihre Zähne?”
The smile vanished from the man’s lips.
“Ziemlich viel, Herr Leutnant.”
“Ich dachte so, Reiner. Ich dachte so.”
It was only fifteen minutes later when the last cigarette had been smoked that the Leutnant suddenly sat up from his seat and let the tobacco roll drop to the sand, whence she extinguished it with her boot. She shoved her hands through the pockets of her trousers and began to walk away – at which point she stopped dead in her tracks when she heard the soldiers mockingly singing to her in a choir:
“Liebling, mein Herz läßt dich grüßen, nur mit dir allein kann es glücklich sein! Alle meine Träume, die süßen, leg ich in den Gruß, den Gruß mit hinein! Las nicht die Tage verfließen, bald ist der Frühling dahin. Liebling, mein Herz läßt dich grüßen, und dir sagen, wie gut ich dir bin!”
She turned around, and arched an inquisitive eyebrow as she stared at them with an expression that suggested they were the most ridiculous beings in this world, before she turned back around with a scoff of disbelief and walked away from them. Still, even as she had now become a mere ink blotch in the distance the men continued in their laughing, jeering tones.
“Noch verknüpft uns nur Sympathie noch sagen wir ‘Sie’ und küßten uns nie! Doch im Traume sag’ ich schon ‘Du’ und flüstere leis dir zu: Liebling, mein Herz …”
The time was around two o’clock when she pushed the door open and entered the room underground, wasting no time in approaching the officer behind the desk. “Hauptmann Rolf Jäger, der Gruppenkommandant der Dritten Gruppe, hier vor eineinhalb Woche gebracht wurde, ist er noch innen?” she inquired.
“Er ist, Herr Leutnant, und ich denke nicht dass er irgendwo in den nächsten zwei Tagen auch geht,” the officer told her in a grave tone, and then in the next few moments that passed Dirk was walking alongside him across the narrow corridors at each side of which stood the cells, small and suffocating, the bars rusty and the walls only ever enriching that sense of claustrophobia as they walked further along the passageway. Once they had finally reached Jäger’s cell the officer motioned to unlock the door, but then Dirk grasped hold of his arm to prevent him from doing this, assuring him it was not necessary. The man appeared momentarily confused but then briskly nodded, walking away to leave them alone.
The woman turned her head and looked at the cell, inside which stood a creature unrecognizable to her, a man who appeared homeless and rugged, a thin beard decorating his face, his hair greasy and untidy, with a constant sneer etched across his lips, and that was the only characteristic of him which proved to the woman he was still the same man. She remained silent and only ever observed him closely from her superior position, tall and imposing, dressed in her military uniform and staring at him with a stern expression and eyes that distantly gleamed in the dark atmosphere surrounding them. Something tugged at her heart when she saw him like this, but it was not an unpleasant feeling – rather, it was the satisfaction at watching him experience what he had never before, shoved from his safety zone and into the wolf’s mouth where family contacts and heritage had no significance or meaning. Yes, let him live through such wretchedness, as he properly deserved, then he would know what it meant to be a person of no privileges and no support whatsoever apart from one’s own strength and resilience. The silence was unbroken and her arms remained hanging down each by her side, before she suddenly took a step closer.
“Ich kam, um mein Beileid für den Verlust auszudrücken,” she spoke softly, her eyes gleaming as they stared through his own grey countenance. “Sie sagten dass er tot war, und ich kam um Ihnen zu sagen, dass …” She hesitated for a moment; “… ich um ihn trauerte. Wenn nur er wusste, wie viel ich ihn vermisste. Wenn nur er wusste, wie ich … wie ich ihn in der Nähe von mir hätte bleiben lassen mögen. Wie ich wollte, dass er zu mir zurückkam. Dass ich an ihn trotz meiner besten Anstrengungen dachte und ihn gut trotz meiner Wut wünschte. Wenn es irgendetwas gibt, dass ich bedauere ist, dass ich ihm nie erzählte, wie viel ich ihn brauchte. Wie viel ich mich wirklich sorgte,” she whispered, and it was with a pained sigh that she said, “Nun, es ist jetzt spät.”
Her gaze sharpened, and she took a step backwards as she created that distance between them.
“Ich glaube dass ich nichts anderes habe um mit Ihnen jetzt zu tun,” she announced in a resolute tone, eyes harsh and determined. “Nichts überhaupt. Nichts,” she assured him through gritted teeth, before she turned around and began to walk away.
Translation
GET OUT OF MY HEAD!
Are you all right, Herr Leutnant?
Everything is in order.
Reiner, let us make a hypothesis.
Yes, Herr Leutnant.
Let us assume that you have come to know this person – a hypothetical person, Reiner. You are used to him being everything you despise but then there are times when he gives you things he hasn’t before … He acts in erratic ways, it’s all very … up in the air, and leaves you unsure of his true motives when you don’t even know what could be going through his mind at the time. Do you think that when someone you know, whom you have seen act in a different way, continues being, well, a stupid sod – that they still deserve your efforts?
I don’t know. What is this person to you, Herr Leutnant?
A real pain, to begin with.
Well, do you still like this person?
No, I hate him, Reiner.
Just how hypothetical is this hatred, Herr Leutnant?
Very, very hypothetical, Reiner.
Well, then, it depends, Herr Leutnant.
On what?
Well … do you care enough, Herr Leutnant?
If you care enough, then it will outweigh any aversion you might have for the person. I mean, everyone has their worse days –
How about decades, Reiner, how about rotten genetics!
Where there’s interest, there’s empathy. I believe the key is that the purity of affection cannot be measured by simply liking someone – that is the easiest task! Everyone can like anyone. Genuine attachment, however, Herr Leutnant, and concern are truly founded when you know perfectly well of the person’s bad traits and still continue to need them even despite these.
Just how hypothetical is this … key, Reiner?
Very, very hypothetical, Herr Leutnant.
I thought so.
I do not mean any offence, of course, Herr Leutnant, but have you not considered that, perhaps, these qualities of this person that make you hate him are the very same ones for which that person may also hate you? After all, it is our flaws and quirks that are most characteristic of our nature and define us far more than the good traits ever could. And to be honest, Herr Leutnant, this isn’t really about hatred, is it? Pure hatred is such a vague sentiment, you feel it when you meet someone for the first time or when you have to interact with people you dislike for various reasons – like one does with their mother-in-law! – but you obviously took the time to ask me of my opinion and you appear to care enough since you need such an opinion, otherwise you would have only shut the person out without a second thought. But you are having second thoughts, are you not, and it is this uncertainty that clearly shows it is far more complicated than to simply hate someone. Everyone can hate anyone, but you aren’t willing to give anyone second chances. Perhaps it is hatred, moulded into concern or interest or whatever it is you wish to call it – but then we’re not talking of hatred in its homogeneous form to begin with, now are we?
You disturb me, Reiner.
Well, of course this should be none of your concern, Herr Leutnant. After all, it is only a hypothesis.
… Yes.
So this … hypothetical person, Herr Leutnant. Have they, by any chance, sent any hypothetical letters?
Reiner.
Yes, Herr Leutnant.
Shut up.
No, it is impossible to live with that person, Reiner! The thought itself is ridiculous, I’m telling you, it would drive me to the end of my better judgement, as it already is! Is it worth it? No, and do they deserve the time and effort? To hell with them!
Ha, I knew it! I knew it was about a woman!
Is it a woman, Herr Leutnant? Oh, it is!
You didn’t tell us it was about a woman, Herr Leutnant!
What –
We had no idea you were involved with anyone, Herr Leutnant, you never told us about her!
Is she blonde, Herr Leutnant?
Brown –
With blue eyes, Herr Leutnant?
No, they’re grey –
Pretty, lithe and slender?
Not … quite.
Is she caring?
I … wouldn’t say that.
Do you care for her, Herr Leutnant?
No, she makes my life a miserable hell.
How old is she, Herr Leutnant?
I don’t know!
Do you miss her?
… No.
What was your latest conversation like, Herr Leutnant?
Very … anatomical.
How long do you know her?
I’d say about two and a half months.
It was a very … stormy relationship.
What is her name?
I … never …
– Asked?
Did she lie to you about it?
Did she lie about her age? They all do that!
I’ll tell you what to do, Herr Leutnant. You will come up to her, walk up closely enough and softly put your hands around her face, look at her deeply in the eyes and say … ‘I hate you, you stinking whore!’ Oh yes, I hate you! You are a whore and I’ve wasted enough time with you, you stupid fat cow!
What is his problem?
The whore is my problem! I am here, risking my arse in this pile of shit while she’s out drinking and dancing with whatever pig comes along her way!
A cow breeding with a pig, Mathias, looks like the offspring will be one-legged, deformed little mutants.
Don’t be absurd, she’s not old enough to be your mother.
Don’t be so melodramatic, Mathias!
I’ll make your face look all melodramatic when I’m finished with you, bonehead!
I’ll never write to her again!
I think you need to write to her, Herr Leutnant.
And tell her what, Reiner?
Well, you could start by asking her, under the hypothesis she hates you as much as you hate her, what her very hypothetical motives are, after all.
Reiner.
Yes, Herr Leutnant.
How much do you value your teeth?
Quite a lot, Herr Leutnant.
I thought so, Reiner. I thought so.
Hauptmann Rolf Jäger, Group Commander of the Third Group, was brought here a week and a half ago, is he still inside?
He is, Herr Leutnant, and I don’t think he is going anywhere in the next two days, either.
I came to offer my condolences for the loss. You said he was dead, and I came to tell you that … I mourned for him. If only he knew how much I missed him. If only he knew how I … how I would have liked to have him stay close to me. How I wanted him to come back to me. That I was thinking of him despite my best efforts and wished him well despite my anger. If there is anything I regret is that I never told him how much I needed him. How much I really did care.
Well, it is late now.
I guess I have nothing else to do with you now. Nothing at all. Nothing.
