The Boy in Black, page 29
The children were crying, their hands flailing towards the women as they, too, cried for their children. The children they had promised to protect, to nurture; they now felt impotent to the whole situation. One of the commanding officers stepped forward and shot his gun in the air.
‘Silence!’
The civilians stopped, deadly silent, and stared in horror. They shook vigorously, trying to hold back the many tears they wished to shed – even some of our soldiers attempted to do the same.
‘Our orders were no survivors. So let us show them – no survivors!’ The officer pounded a fist in the air, and the mass of soldiers roared with cheers.
Some, like me, stood at the back of the pack and remained silent. The civilians squirmed as they were held tight. One woman cried for a small boy, who I guessed was her son.
‘Dmitri! Dmitri!’
I looked over to her struggling for a young boy, who was held by his shoulders by a brutish soldier, his own shoulders broad and his face harbouring a sickly grin. The boy struggled and cried for his mother, but the soldier held on tight.
The soldier brought forth the young boy and held a gun to his head. The woman screamed, my ears ringing from the sheer sound. She cried and grabbed the soldier’s arm that held her hair. The soldier hit her hard, sending her crashing to the ground. As she looked up, the boy was staring wide-eyed at her, tears streaming down his face.
And with one pull of the trigger, the soldier had taken his life. The shot echoed on the walls of the houses. The boy dropped to the ground and the mother screamed again, wailing as she became weakened by the sight of her son’s dead body, all life now gone. She rested her head on the ground and continued to cry. We all stood around, remaining silent as we watched a mother mourn her son’s death. Not one soldier said a word, but instead all remained deathly silent. The boy’s blood filled the cracks of the already disintegrating pavement, weaving its way through each crevice.
One of the officers grabbed the woman by the hair and heaved her from the ground. She remained limp, having given up all hope once her son had gone. The officer smiled that same sickly smile, rubbing his face against hers. I looked away, feeling sick to my stomach. He had no mercy. And within seconds, the trigger was pulled again, and a thump sounded as the body hit the ground.
I looked around at the soldiers, who made no eye contact, but instead looked down at their feet. Whether it was shame, or perhaps empathic agony, I do not know. But nevertheless, not one soldier dared to look up. The officer raised his hands in the air and cheered, letting loose a victorious roar, but to no response. His face turned red with anger as every soldier remained silent.
‘And what the fuck is wrong with all of you depressed bastards?’ he said menacingly. ‘Never seen a dead body before? Answer me!’
He flung his arms through the air, his feet dancing around the centre of the circle that surrounded him. He grabbed one of the soldiers and held him by the collar, drawing a knife from his back pocket. He held it to the soldier’s neck and hissed through his teeth.
‘I should cut your neck right now, son. What are you going to do about it?’
The soldier stared at him worriedly.
‘What are you going to do about it?’ screamed the officer.
He pushed the soldier to the ground, who scurried back to the group and stood up, adjusting his uniform. Every soldier still held their tongues, staring at the officer, who had apparently gone mad.
One soldier stepped forward and faced the officer. He stood well over six feet tall, his bulky body accompanying his muscular arms, which could easily be bodies of their own. His charcoal hair was combed to one side and his face was staunch, glowering at the insane officer.
‘What are you going to do, big man?’
The officer walked up to the soldier and spat in his face. He laughed and pirouetted on his foot, ready to turn and walk away, when the soldier grabbed him by his uniform collar and threw him to the ground.
‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ screamed the officer.
The soldier approached him and picked him up, which was no large feat, and threw the officer again onto the hard ground. The officer glanced up nervously as he scuffled along the pavement, trying to get away from the soldier. But the soldier now reached for his gun and pointed it at the officer’s head.
‘This… this is treason!’ exclaimed the officer.
‘No, it isn’t,’ said the soldier, and pulled the trigger.
Chapter 30
August 23, 1942
The Luftwaffe came in full force. Mercilessly, they carried out a devastating raid on the city. They were ordered to destroy the city before we soldiers were to enter Stalingrad. By the afternoon, when the sun was settling in the west, we could see the smoke rising just miles off. The evening rays seemed to almost glimmer through the smoke.
Yesterday, the men were talking about how they were determined it was only a long, hard day’s drive from the city, and we would be there. They were no longer as adamant about this fantasy. The victory and spoils withered away – they were scared and I was just glad that I was no longer the only one.
The plumes of smoke rose steadily, the constant flow amounting to a thick, black mass in the sky. With it so heavy, the sun was finally blocked out and darkness ensued over the horizon. It was eerie, with everything suddenly going dark, but not so dark that it was difficult to see. Everything was shaded, and the sky seemed to glow red as the fired burned. It looked like a pit of lava swirling in the sky.
‘See that, boys? We’re heading straight for it,’ said our commanding officer. ‘Remember, these Russians won’t hesitate, and neither should we. Keep your gun close and shoot at anything that wears that red star.’
The Führer had spoken to his field marshals back in March about what this battle would entail, and it was then sent via letter to our commanding officers. The Führer knew more than we did, even so far away, and I didn’t like it. I was tasked with taking it to the next officer, as I was apparently one of the few trustworthy soldiers who would do it without opening it and reading it – they were wrong. On my way through the camp, during the darkness of night, I was carrying it to another officer, by immediate request of my commanding officer. He urged me to take it quickly, and without reading it. Curiosity had got the better of me and I opened it, only to catch a short glimpse at what it had contained. I remember reading the quote the Führer had apparently said in one of the meetings. It read:
The Fuhrer was expressly clear as to the details outlining what is to happen. He is quoted as stating in the Fatherland:
‘The war against the Russians cannot be conducted in knightly fashion. The struggle is one of ideologies and racial differences and will have to be waged with unprecedented, unmerciful, and unrelenting harshness. All officers will have to get rid of any old-fashioned ideas they may have. I realise the necessity for conducting such warfare is beyond the comprehension of you generals, but I must insist that my orders be followed without complaint. The commissars hold views directly opposed to those of National Socialism. Hence, these commissars must be eliminated. Any German soldier who breaks international law will be pardoned. Russia did not take part in the Hague Convention and, therefore, has no rights under it.’
By this decree, may their blood be shed with no mercy.
When I had read it, my stomach twisted inside, and I felt physically sick. I ran to the officer’s quarters and delivered it, without saying a word, and left immediately after.
No choice was given when it came to the brutality against the Russians, and no justification for our brutality was needed, other than it was by order of the Führer. I had mentioned it to Earnst, who looked horrified to begin with, and then sighed as he simply replied, ‘We have orders.’
The war had drained everything from us – our minds, our dignity, our life. I didn’t even know how much more we could endure. Soldiers quarrelled far more frequently; they cried more, though it was always in secret – we were all breaking. We all wanted it to be over.
Up until now, I never imagined what the city looked like. It was simply a name with no image, a city without people. But as we saw the smoke rising high above the horizon, for the first time I began to think about what it was like.
I imagined it to be like Berlin, with the old architecture still intact and standing storeys tall, boasting beautiful craftsmanship throughout history. I imagined a large central fountain that was surrounded by thousands of bricks neatly placed along the ground, with trees that surrounded it and children playing nearby. I imagined it all, and with one quick blink of reality, the realisation that imagining it now was futile, had hit.
My chance to dream of the city had long gone, with it amassed in ruins miles away as the Luftwaffe continued their ferocious assault. I was supposed to be happy, rejoicing. I was supposed to be glad that our mighty force in the skies had gone ahead of us to clear the way that we may be safe. I was supposed to feel a lot of things in this war, but I felt none of them. Nothing had ever felt true.
The first time I had killed a man, I didn’t feel like more of a man myself, as I was supposed to. It was supposed to be the true time I would be a man, and yet it was the true time I felt like a monster. And even though I felt heinous after the ordeal, the trigger on my gun was pulled from then on, with the scope aiming at a human being, not the clear air. I was everything I despised, and since then, I’ve never stopped hating myself.
‘Up ahead!’ yelled our officer. ‘Russian soldiers up ahead. Formation!’
I blinked and watched other soldiers rushing past me, clutching their guns as they found their positions. I stood there, dazed for a moment, before finally shaking my head, blinked a few times and then quickly moved to position.
We crouched low behind a mound. It was silent. The only noise was miles off, and even that seemed like a faint whisper. I looked around and saw every soldier poised, resting with their backs against the mound, or lying on their stomachs in the dirt.
After a few minutes of silence, a gunshot sounded, and a piece of the earth shot up only a few feet away from us. The rain of gunfire ensued as a sea of men poured out and headed toward us.
‘Hold your position!’ yelled the officer. ‘Do not let them push us back. Hold your ground!’
We began to fire on the Russians as they found positions which were low enough to avoid the oncoming bullets from our end. I glanced to my right and saw the officer yelling at some of the soldiers, barking orders and waving his hands northward. They nodded and moved further east, behind the shrubs and trees until they were out of sight. I squinted in curiosity, wondering what they were going to do, but dismissed it and turned to face the Russians’ defensive line.
After almost an hour of fighting, with our men only advancing a few feet, some of the soldiers, including myself, spotted a group of our men rearing behind the Russians’ defensive strip. There seemed to be more than what I had seen disappear.
The Russians turned in surprise and yelled, shooting aimlessly into the distance. They were surrounded, and one by one, their soldiers fell. Some sprinted to the east and others to the west, but those that chose the east were cordoned off and slaughtered. Blood sprayed as the bullets perforated their skin – for a moment, a red curtain of pure blood covered the air.
Only a small number still stood, with what I assumed to be one of the commanding officers, yelling to his soldiers, snapping his head rigorously left and right in a panic.
‘Move up!’ yelled our officer. ‘Move up!’
Our soldiers stood and moved over the mound, following the road that continued to lead up to the city. We moved slowly, dropping to the ground and crawling while trying to aim and shoot at the same time.
Within the next hour, the small group of Russians was all but defeated. Their dead bodies, smeared with blood and dirt, sprawled across the land. Their eyes seemed to follow us as we marched – watching us destroy their homes. We had reached where they had planted themselves and witnessed an elaborate set of trenches that moved fluently with the earth. Wooden beams were planted across the walls to prevent the dirt from collapsing, and small tunnels had been built to attach each segment of the branched-out trenches together.
‘Clear out the trenches,’ commanded our officer. ‘Some Russian soldiers may still be hiding in there. We don’t want any calamities in the event they escaped and decided to bring back more soldiers with them.’
Every soldier nodded, and we made our way into the trenches with our guns poised. I crept slowly into one of the tunnels, my back arched over as I tipped my head down to avoid hitting it on the beams above. A small doorway was dug to my right, and I stopped for a moment. I placed my ear to the grated tin that ran along the wall and listened. Nothing. Cautiously stepping, I made my way around the corner and walked through the doorway into a small room. It contained two rickety beds, a table with papers on it, a lantern and a wooden box filled with food and ammunition.
A small noise came from underneath the furthest bed, in the left corner of the room. I turned quickly and held my gun up, aiming directly beneath it. I walked toward the bed and crouched down slowly, seeing a young soldier hiding. He held his hands up to the base of the bed. I stood back and he crawled out from beneath the bed.
His face was covered in black soot, and his uniform was dirty and ripped beyond repair. He would have been no older than me, and he had seen far worse than I had. His blue eyes stared at me, and his body, well built, shook.
He closed his eyes and turned his head to his side, expecting me to fire. I walked over to the wooden box and looked through it, seeing a small tin can of food. I grabbed it and put it in the soldier’s hand. He stared at me with a blank expression. I pointed him to the bed and ushered him to crawl back underneath. Once he was under, I grabbed the thin blanket from the other bed and took it to the soldier, awkwardly putting it over him to hide as much as I could.
He looked at me, and I gave him a nod, to which he then did the same. I held my index finger to my mouth, making sure he remained silent while he was in hiding. He nodded.
I stood up and walked back through the doorway and out of the tunnel. I was walking through the trench when I saw Sergeant Shödler standing in the middle, blocking anyone from getting past. He looked at me and gave a cold smile.
‘Hans Adler,’ he exclaimed, ‘Well, well, well. Isn’t it a shame that we haven’t seen each other in months?’
‘I liked it like that,’ I hissed.
‘There’s no need to be like that. It is our reunion after so many months without each other’s company. It was my fault, however, I must admit. I was sent for back in Berlin. Only a week, but it was still better than this shit show. It was so good to be home, away from all of this. But I feel at ease, knowing that you’re still alive and we can enjoy what time we have together left.’ His voice was sarcastic, and every word he spoke felt like Death had personally chosen not to take him; to torment me for a little while longer.
‘Now, did you find anything in that little tunnel?’
‘No,’ I said, defiantly. ‘There was nothing.’
He smiled wryly and cocked his head to one side. ‘And I don’t believe one word that comes from your fucking mouth.’
He put his hand on my shoulder, and I quickly smacked it off.
‘Don’t touch me.’
‘I did miss our times together. But you know what I think was the best thing? I visited a concentration camp when I was back in the Fatherland. And all I was able to think of, was the fact that you should have been in there. I can imagine your family in there – all of them. Your father, mother, and whatever siblings you may have. You belong there with them, you filthy little rat.’
‘My father’s dead.’
‘Dead? Already? Was he sent to the extermination camp? That must have been a terrible thing to have to go through.’
‘He was never in a camp,’ I said angrily. ‘He died before the war. None of my family are in any camps.’
Sergeant Shödler leaned in closely.
‘Listen here, you pathetic piece of filth. You may be able to fool the officers and the soldiers you fight alongside, but you cannot fool me. I know who you are. I know what you are. And when I have my way, and believe me, I will soon enough, you’re going to wish you were never born.’
‘And I hope that if anyone is going to die in this upcoming battle, it will be you. Bloody and gruesome.’
Sergeant Shödler’s eyes widened, and he flung his hand up, slapping me across the cheek.
‘Don’t tempt me, Adler. I will kill you and make it look like it was a Russian soldier.’
Shödler was about to continue speaking, but was cut off by a soldier who stood above the trenches, on solid ground.
‘Let’s get moving!’
Shödler turned to the soldier.
‘Speak like that again to me, and it will not be the Russians that you will have to worry about.’
‘Sergeant Shödler,’ exclaimed the soldier, ‘I apologise, Sergeant. I didn’t see that it was you.’
‘What do you think this is, a fucking private uniform?’
The soldier stood there in stupid silence, and Sergeant Shödler turned back to face me.
‘It looks like it’s time to go.’
He smiled again at me, the same macabre smile that he gave every time, and then turned and walked away.
I was left in shock. After months of not having to see him, I had attempted to forget about him completely, and succeeded for a small while. He had no longer occupied my mind and I had felt a little safe, in the broadest context of this war, that is. I had no idea where he went, and to be perfectly honest, I didn’t care. And yet, as soon as I saw him, my heart sank, and my stomach churned. Every memory of him flooded back into my mind, and I felt if anything was to destroy me, it would be him.
