Volk (10 page)

But soon this became academic. The new bureaucracy caught up with this minor aspect of things, and the Quakers were no longer allowed to distribute food directly. They had to turn their supplies over to the state relief organization,
Asistencia Social
. The state had to be responsible for everything. The canteens and shelters faded away. Quality was allowed to give parcels individually, and did what she could, but it was sadly inadequate.

Where was her idealism now? She had no suitable answer.

There was no appropriate opening at a University at this time, as Ernst had expected; he had returned to Germany too late for a normal admission, and there were many applicants. He might have been eligible for a transfer from the American college, but his abrupt departure had rendered his credits there incomplete, and in any event they would have been regarded as inferior. So he would join military service, and he was satisfied to do this.

He did Krista the courtesy of discussing it with her. It was not that she had any better information than he did, or that there was any reason for her to have any control over his life. But he was seeing her now, and he wanted to work it out in his own mind, and she was happy to discuss anything with him. Her opinions were readily formed and fairly predictable; any exceptional thinking would have to be done elsewhere. But her actions were not at all predictable, and could be quite intriguing.

They walked through a park, having ridden their bicycles there and parked them at the edge. This was midsummer, and it was hot. They did not hold hands or otherwise touch. In America couples were frequently observed in physical contact, even kissing in public, but this was not that decadent land and the two of them were not creatures of the lower class. Both his family and hers were properly conservative. Public displays were not expected, and intimate contacts were properly reserved for marriage and privacy. Ernst had been taking a risk when he put his hand on her in the foyer, and she had been taking more of a risk by allowing it.

Now their game of daring was over, and no contact since had been that extreme.

Krista was lovely in her light blouse and print skirt. He remained amazed at the transformation in her. It was not just that she had filled out spectacularly; she was hardly the only girl to do that. It was not that her face had cleared and become alluring in a way hardly hinted at before, though that certainly helped. Perhaps it was because of her change in hair style. Her fair hair now framed her face on its way to her shoulders, flattering it, almost molding it, and hiding its weaker aspects. But mostly it seemed to be her attitude. She had been eager and open; now she was more assertive and suggestive. That did wonders for her personality.

“So it must be the
Wehrmacht
or the SS,” he said. “Which is better?”

“The
Schutzstaffel
,” she said immediately “The SS, as it is called, the Order of the Death's Head. Its classy black uniform is wonderful, and it carries a tantalizing aura of mystery, power and terror. It is the organization that most specifically safeguards the welfare of our brave new Reich, and the very best people are members. But not the SS VT, the
Verfgungstruppe
, the troops. That's the lowest form of it. I don't think that's any better than the regular army. I don't want you marching through mud and getting your ears shot off.”

He was impressed by her knowledge of the subject. He had not heard of that VT branch of the SS; it must have come into existence relatively recently. “I must admit that the notion of physical combat and random extinction on the battlefield does not appeal to me either,” he said wryly. “I know that war will not be the civilized situation of a college wrestling match, wherein combatants shake hands at the finish. I prefer to serve in some capacity that utilizes my mind more than my muscles. Yet my choices are limited. If I join the elite SS, the lowly SS VT may be what they put me in. In that case, I might be better off in the Wehrmacht, the regular army, where I should qualify for officer's training.”

“You could be an officer in the SS,” she pointed out.

“With my incomplete education? Without NPEA or national service? I fear they would laugh me right out of the SS if I applied.”

“But you have qualifications,” she insisted. “Your father is a Party member with good connections. He could get you a commission.”

That was possible, Ernst realized. But he wasn't satisfied. “I prefer to earn my own place, if I can.”

“That's not the way it works,” she argued. “You have to have connections. No one gets anywhere by merit alone. Do you think you were given command of your Youth group because of your ability or enthusiasm? Your father pulled a string, as mine did for me.”

He sighed. It was true. Merit alone was not enough, because there were many meritorious young men and women. “Still, this is not an aspect of the system I like.”

They entered a shelter. For the moment they were out of sight of anyone else, and unlikely to be disturbed by surprise. “You have to use what you have,” she said, drawing him inside and into a corner. She pressed herself against him. “I did not like having to wheedle my father into making your father invite me to your house, but I did. I did not like letting you paw me, in order to get your attention, but I did. Because it was the only way. You don't have to like what you have to do to get your commission, but it's the only way. So do it.”

“I am intrigued by your logic, but not convinced.”

She took his hand and pressed it against her blouse, and the firm breast beneath. “What must I do to convince you?”

She had succeeded in startling him again, but he did not try to draw his hand away. That was a very fine and intriguing surface he felt. Her device might be crude, but it was effective. “You already have my attention, Krista; you don't have to let me paw you any more.” Was she conscious of his irony? This time she was in effect pawing herself. Her objection was verbal, not literal.

“This time I want you to do what is right. I'm sure you don't want me to sully myself in the effort.” She pressed his hand in more securely. The delight of that soft, intimate, suggestive contact leaped from his hand to his heart, making it beat as hard as if he were running. It was hard to maintain his equilibrium.

Was she making a promise, if he agreed to her way? It was persuasive, since he had already concluded that her course was the one he would have to follow. “Then I shall have to agree with you,” he said. “But if this is your manner of persuasion, I hope to find many more differences to reconcile.”

She smiled. “Perhaps, in good time.” Then she gently drew his hand away and kissed him.

She had of course been trying to make a further impression on him, so that he would not be interested in other feminine company. She was succeeding. He knew better than to let himself fall in love with her, but she did excite and fascinate him, as she intended.

•  •  •

So it was that Ernst assembled the papers and made application for an officer's commission in the SS. Herr Best put in a quiet word where it counted, and in due course the word came: Ernst had been granted a provisional status of
Untersturmfhrer
, second lieutenant, in the SS, if he completed training successfully.

Of course it wasn't as simple as that. He still had two years of military service to do before receiving any such promotion. He would have to start in the SS VT, though he hoped not to remain there. But it did mean that his course was marked, and that it was a good one.

In July he reported to the local SS station for training. Krista gave him a most passionate embrace and kiss, straining the limits of propriety, for it was in the sight of their families as they saw him to the building. But no one was in a position to protest, for Ernst was a good Nazi young man doing his duty, and Krista was a good Nazi young woman encouraging him in that, and their families were pleased that the two of them were keeping company. Anyway, their opportunities for further physical contact would be quite limited for the next few months.

He was issued a fine black SS uniform without patches; he was thus without rank or association. His belt buckle had an eagle, a swastika, and the SS motto “My honor is loyalty.”

He was given a bunk in the dormitory, and instructed in the protocol of the facility. He had no problem with it; it was similar to his experience in the Hitler Youth.

Indeed, though he entered training well along in the annual cycle, he received a provisional SS pass, and was able to comport himself well. This was because not only had he had excellent prior experience, the instructors knew that an exception had been made for him because of a Party connection. They suspected that he was marked for some special service, and they wanted him to remember them with favor if his path crossed theirs at some later time. They knew that Reinhard Heydrich, the “blond beast” who commanded the SS, had once been cashiered as a naval officer, and now was possibly the most feared man in Germany. Surely the rotten bones of certain naval officers were trembling now! So, just in case Ernst Best was going any similar direction, they took care.

There was camping and marching and discipline, and Ernst enjoyed it. He was not a squad leader, having come in too late, but he was competent and dependable, and the squad he was in did well. He had to scramble to complete the qualifications for his sports badge, being short of time. It wasn't possible simply to take the examinations; he had to be personally trained by the certified instructors. Still, he managed to do well enough, because of his prior experience.

Grenade throwing was new to him, however, because these were live. That made all the difference. One of the others armed his grenade and dropped it; the instructor immediately picked it up and hurled it into the field. That was why those in training were not allowed to proceed alone. Ernst himself performed without error, but still felt uneasy. These things were dangerous! They were called “egg” grenades, because of their shape; there was a cap to be unscrewed, which gave access to a string; when the string was pulled, detonation occurred after five seconds. The ones they used had blue caps; they were warned that if they ever saw one with a red cap, to leave it alone, because it would have a one second fuse. That was the kind left behind for the enemy to find.

He also learned the SS catechism:

Why do we believe in Germany and the Führer?

Because we believe in God, we believe in Germany which He created in His world, and in the
Führer
, Adolf Hitler, whom He has sent us.

Whom must we primarily serve?

Our people and the
Führer
, Adolf Hitler.

Why do you obey?

From inner conviction, from belief in Germany, in the
Führer
, in the Movement and in the SS, and from loyalty.

It was easy for Ernst, because he needed no catechism to bolster his belief and loyalty. The ritual was beautiful and true.

The only thing that bothered him was religion. Ernst belonged to the Church, and his family had always belonged. He was not a devoted member, and there were things about religion he questioned, but he preferred that membership be a matter of personal decision rather than dictated by the state. Yet the candidates were pressured to renounce the Christian messages of tolerance and reconciliation as an effeminate, un-German, and even “Jewish” doctrine.

Each day on the drill field the command was given: “Anyone who has not yet left the Church take one step forward.” The first day half the candidates stepped forward, Ernst among them. They were harangued for their backwardness and given disciplinary duties.

The next day when the call was made, only a quarter of the candidates took that step. Ernst remained among them.

So it continued from day to day, until only a handful remained. Ernst knew it would be easier not to take the step, because he really did not care that much about the Church. But he still did not like being forced to renounce it.

Then one day the other five candidates were put on adverse duty, but Ernst was excused. He went to the commander and inquired. “You are marked for better things,” the officer told him. “The others are hopeless.”

Ernst realized that the string his father had pulled was having further effect. If the authorities bore down on him too hard, or tried to drive him out, there could be unpleasant consequences for them. So they were excepting him.

But he refused to accept this. “If the others have done wrong, I have done the same,” Ernst said firmly. “I must be punished in the same manner they are.”

The man gazed at him for a long moment. “It is not your prerogative to establish company policy,” he said. “Dismissed.”

Ernst had to go, because he could not disobey a direct order. But instead of reporting back to his unit for regular activities, he went to the punishment detail. No one questioned this; it did not occur to the sergeant in charge that anyone would seek punishment he had not been assigned.

The word must have spread, however, because next morning there was no call-out. The remaining church members were allowed to proceed with the regular program.

Later, the sergeant who had been in charge of the punishment detail came to the barracks and paused at Ernst's bunk. “You have courage,” he remarked, and moved on. But Ernst caught the momentary, tiny twitch of his lips. The man was pleased.

No one else said anything to him. But the subtle respect with which Ernst was treated increased. He had won the day, in a certain fashion.

On November 7 Ernst and the other candidates from all across Germany went south to Munich for the swearing in ceremony. But something strange and significant happened while they were traveling.

“Did you hear?” another candidate on the train demanded breathlessly. “Ernst von Rath has been shot by a Jew!”

Ernst thought at first that he was being teased, because of the first name. He had no idea who the victim was. But in the course of the following day, as they reached Munich and found their barracks, it came clear: he was the third secretary of the German Embassy in Paris. He was not a nationally known figure, but Goebbels, the minister of Propaganda, was spreading the word throughout Germany. A prominent leader had been treacherously murdered by the foul Jews!