Chapter 4
KLAUS SCHMIDT
31st January 1933
The day has finally come. Germany will once again be great!
“Klaus! Can you help me send this letter?”
Sergei had his hands stretched out, holding onto an envelope, desperation and some sense of joy sparkling in his eyes. I took the envelope from his hands and read the address, somewhere in Poland. Addressed to an ‘Andrzej’.
“Don’t you know how to send a letter?” Chuckling, I held the envelope to his face, “Who’s your Polish friend?”
His cheeks seemed to warm up and he turned away, “Well, I don’t know where to go.”
He avoided my question. Interesting. Nevertheless, I took the envelope with me, as I stepped outside and smelt the new, prosperous air. That’s when Erik stumbled into me, crashing straight into my chest, where I caught him. His dark, coal-coloured hair swooped over to one side of his face and his cheeks and nose were as red as ever. There’d never been a day he hadn’t had a red face. At least today he had gotten into his uniform. And he had wrapped up in his signature thick, blue scarf and a massive coat. Glancing down, I also noticed thick socks spilling over his boots. Finally, he had energy to at least get dressed.
“Where are you off to, Erik? Siberia?”
Erik continued to lean on me, grumbling, “I don’t think I’ll make it today... Or make it back home...”
“Sick again?” Pressing a hand to his forehead, I was proven correct instantly. “Go on inside then. You know where to go. I’ll check on you when I’m back.”
I heard a whispered “thank you” and walked on to post this darn letter.
*~*
SERGEI VOLKOV
There was a quiet shuffling downstairs. I assumed it was Klaus’ mother again, before it moved upstairs. Cautiously, I poked my head out the door, where a rosy-cheeked boy stared my way. His eyes widened with almost horror.
“Oh! Are you... with Klaus...?” He asked quietly, his voice quivering.
“With Klaus? He’s not home if that-”
“You can tell me.” He carefully stepped forward, holding a hand out, a nervous, weak smile on his face, “I’m a homosexual too. My name’s Erik.”
I took his hand, but hesitated on shaking it. Did he think we were together like that?
“Oh, you’ve got it all wrong, I’m not with Klaus! I have... another...”
Erik nodded slowly, then stumbled off into Klaus room. Quickly I scrambled after him.
“Wait! Are you two...?”
He laughs, climbing into Klaus’ bed, still in his outerwear. “I wish. He’s got his eyes on a girl, though. Unlucky me. Don’t tell him about what I told you, okay? He’d kill me. He’s a crazy man.”
Gently sitting down on the edge of the bed, I tilted my head at him. “Actually kill you? He’d probably kill me even harder then, seeing what he reads...”
Erik coughs out a laugh, “Did he get you to read Mein Kampf too?”
A small smile creeped onto my face, but my heart twisted at the thought of what I had read. “It’s horrible. It’s so... wrong,” I shuffled up the bed, “It’s hard work being a ‘parasite’. Do people really believe a small country like this will dominate the world? They dominated banks before the war, that’s for sure, but countries?”
Erik’s eyes slowly widened, drifting to meet mine. “Parasite? You’re Jewish?”
His small red nose twitched like a rabbit, before he curled up tighter under the covers. I just nodded and we sat in silence. Erik’s eyes fluttered shut with a small groan as he reached for his head. Noticing the beam of light on his face, I tugged the heavy curtains shut, earning a sigh of relief.
“What’s wrong with you? Are you sick?”
Apparently, that wasn’t the nicest way to phrase it, as Erik rolled his eyes, “I’m sick, yes. It’s a sickness that probably won’t ever leave me. I’ll have to learn to live with it.”
I swooped his hand into my own, grinning, “I have one of those too! Mine’s in my brain, though. It’s called childhood schizophrenia! Apparently it’s scary, but I don’t think it’s that scary, usually! The doctors said I had it because Mama didn’t raise me properly!”
He narrowed his eyes slightly, a slow, pained chuckle escaping his lips, “That’s... great... buddy...! How are you... holding up?”
“Great! I’ve been writing so many poems! Germany is a great inspiration!”
“Really? I think Germany’s a great dump.”
“Germany is complicated.”
“Germany is cumbersome.”
“We should write together!”
*~*
KLAUS SCHMIDT
Making my way back to my room, I saw Erik curled up in my bed and Sergei sitting by his side, mumbling under his breath as he read.
“You met Erik already, I see. You like him?”
Sergei’s eyes shone like new bronze and his head bounced in agreement.
“He’s great! Is he staying here?”
“That’ll depend on him. He’s hard to predict.”
----------------------
Wilfred Owen – Smile, Smile, Smile
Head to limp head, the sunk-eyed wounded scanned
Yesterday's Mail; the casualties (typed small)
And (large) Vast Booty from our Latest Haul.
Also, they read of Cheap Homes, not yet planned;
“For,” said the paper, “when this war is done
The men's first instinct will be making homes.
Meanwhile their foremost need is aerodromes,
It being certain war has just begun.
Peace would do wrong to our undying dead,—
The sons we offered might regret they died
If we got nothing lasting in their stead.
We must be solidly indemnified.
Though all be worthy Victory which all bought.
We rulers sitting in this ancient spot
Would wrong our very selves if we forgot
The greatest glory will be theirs who fought,
Who kept this nation in integrity.”
Nation?—The half-limbed readers did not chafe
But smiled at one another curiously
Like secret men who know their secret safe.
(This is the thing they know and never speak,
That England one by one had fled to France
Not many elsewhere now save under France).
Pictures of these broad smiles appear each week,
And people in whose voice real feeling rings
Say: How they smile! They're happy now, poor things.