Cimmerian: A Novel of the Holocaust Read Free

Don't say that! How can you? These people are staatsfeindlilchs, enemies of the state, or they would not be in these camps. It is the Jews who started this war! Don't forget that! Why should we be the only ones to pay?”
    Though their village was untouched, nearby Hamburg had been virtually destroyed one awful night when over a thousand British bombers rained death on it. Most of the other large German cities were largely rubble by now. Helga's opinion had hardened as the war came home to her. She had not always been like this.
    His father spoke. “You talk as if you believe everything you read in the Volkischer Beobachter . I remember some of these traitors I worked with, caught listening to a foreign broadcast. They and their traitor families were taken away. How about our ‘traitor’ priest? Surely you remember him? He denounced war from the pulpit in 1939 and disappeared in the dead of night. How many others? Are these the ‘traitors’ you mean?”
    “We agreed not to speak of these things, Jaochim.”
    “Hans,” Jaochim said, “see if you can understand what I am fearing for Peter. The Great War was terrible. Men died by the millions. But the ones I pitied most were those survivors who collapsed mentally. After an assault the bodies were piled like cord wood in front of us. It made no difference if it was their dead or the French. The bodies weren't cleared. They just rotted where they fell. The stench was unbearable. This happened repeatedly. Then there were the artillery barrages. Sometimes they lasted days. Men snapped under the tension. We had to tie many comrades up. Others just wandered in a daze until a shell got them. The horror of it destroyed their minds. I have seen it a hundred times over. And the killing. Killing raises feelings you never experience in peace. I have seen men crazed from the slaughter. Good men. I do not want Peter to live only to have him return destroyed. Surely you have seen the kind I mean. War breeds them like maggots. I do not want this.”
    “It can't be that bad,” Helga said defensively. “Hans is in the SS, look at him.”
    “Hans is in sicherheitsdienst. He pushes papers.”
    Helga spoke. “The prisoners and convict guards do the dirty work that must be done, isn't that right? Peter will be outside the camp like a prison guard. And what is this about death camps? Who have you been talking to? If people die it is because the war is hard on all of us. Do not talk to me of death camps! If you want to see a vernichtungslager, go to Hamburg!”
    “Or Berlin,” Hans said quietly.
    “We should lower our voices,” Peter’s father said. “He can hear us.”
    “He is asleep,” Helga said. “He was exhausted. You can see he is not fit for the army.” There was more conversation of his condition. His family was expert on his wounds. Cups rattled a bit later when his mother cleared the coffee and plates.
    “Consider this, Jaochim,” Hans said.. “He has already been through much. He saw almost daily action before. Surely he has told you some of it?”
    “A little.”
    “You know the signs and so do I. He has already seen too much for a nineteen year old, too much for someone as sensitive as he has always been. He nearly died. People rarely survive those kinds of wounds. Even if the Russians do not kill him, the winter will. He will never survive. He is a tough boy physically, but he has been through too much already. He will come out of this, Jaochim. I know what you think of the Party, and of the SS in particular. But this is a chance to save him. You should not question the means. We must do this. I love him as if he were my own son. Do you believe I would arrange this if it was not the only way?”
    “I know you are right. We have no choice. Not any longer. It is the war, that is all. I don’t mean to sound unappreciative.”
    Hans lowered his voice. “I am putting my life in your hands by telling you this. Now Helga, don't be a good Party member and turn your