Читать книгу Officer Factory - Hans Hellmut Kirst - Страница 11

“Everyone here toes the line sooner or later, Lieutenant Krafft,” said Captain Feders. “Either from cowardice, discernment or plain adaptability.”

He and his newly appointed section officer were making their way together out of barracks and down the hill towards Wildlingen.

“I’m not much of a games player, I'm afraid, Captain. I've never been very good at toeing the line.”

“But you'll learn,” said Captain Feders with conviction.

Major Frey, the officer commanding Number 2 Course, had issued invitations to a “modest little dinner for a small circle of friends.” Now it's true that his dinners were always modest, but the point here was the “small circle of friends.” For Frey had a wife, and she had ambitions as a hostess, though what exactly these were remained obscure.

“She must have read about an officer's social obligations in some novel or other,” said Captain Feders. “But she must also have overlooked the fact that that particular piece of trash was written in the days of the Kaiser.”

“I don't find anything very remarkable about that, Captain. The Kaiser's days are after all half-way to modern times. When I was at the front I had a regimental commander who behaved like Attila, King of the Huns.”

This man Lieutenant Krafft began to interest Captain Feders. He seemed a decent, solid sort of fellow. But the question one couldn't help asking oneself at once was: How long would he manage to survive at the training school? Feders felt sure that the first stick was about to be broken over Krafft's back this very evening. He knew the Major's wife only too well.

“My dear Krafft,” said Captain Feders with a certain amusement. “What is the heat of battle compared with the hatching of social intrigues at home? In battle a man's life is snuffed out like a candle, and that's that. But here one is roasted over a slow wood fire to a beautiful golden brown. With kind words considerately lavished on one into the bargain.”

“And is everyone a potential victim for these primitive rites? Is no one safe?”

“Really, my dear Krafft,” said Captain Feders flippantly,” you must try not to confuse your terms. There's nothing primitive about this, it's a question of tradition.”

“Sometimes the same thing, isn't it, Captain?”

“Of course, my dear fellow, it can be. Tradition is, among other things, the finest excuse in the world for the lazy-minded, a blank cheque for those half-wits who conceal their own incompetence under the dead weight of all that's been handed down to them. But you shouldn't underestimate these people, above all in terms of numbers. Quite a lot of our educational methods date back to Frederick the Great. Clausewitz is regarded as a modern author and Schlieffen as a model of genius. And if the worst comes to the worst, even the experiences of the last war will come into their own—the war, that is, in which they say we weren't beaten, but which we indisputably lost. As for a great part of our accepted social conventions, they go back to the turn of the century!”

They kept in step as they walked along. The barracks lay behind them in the pale light of evening: a broad, bulky shadow dominating the horizon. The houses of the town looked tiny by contrast, like formations of coral that had attached themselves to a rock. The fact that the town had been there several centuries before the barracks was no longer evident. Mountains of cement had desecrated the landscape, and the modern concrete piles of a number of business houses and blocks of flats were beginning to destroy the lovable old face of Wildlingen-am-Main.

“Tell me, my dear Krafft, you're quite a dab at the hand kiss, I expect?” said Captain Feders.

“Is this a military training school or a dancing academy?” asked Krafft.

“You are naïve, my dear fellow,” said Feders with a smile. “You don't seem to realize why Major Frey, our officer commanding Number Two Course, has invited you.”

“Well, not to give any pleasure to me, I'm sure of that. But perhaps he merely wanted to fulfill his social obligations.”

“Hell!” said Feders. “The man just wants to put you through your paces, that's all.”

“And for this purpose he introduces me to his wife?”

“Exactly. He wants, among other things, to test your manners as an officer. Because in the Major's view it is only officers with impeccable manners who are fit to instruct officers of the future. But it's the Major's wife who has the last word. Which is why, my dear fellow, a full-blown formal hand kiss will be not only an act of politeness but also a first convincing proof of your social capabilities.”

“Quite funny that,” said Lieutenant Krafft cautiously.

“You’ll be finding plenty of other things to amuse you here before you're through, you can be sure of that. Officially the hand-kissing is quite optional, but in Major Frey's eyes it is a natural obligation. Particularly where the Major's wife is concerned—she was a von Bendler-Trebitz, you know. Right, then—the charming lady will extend her tiny hand towards you. You grasp it, but without exercising undue pressure. Then you bend over it, Krafft, and for God's sake, and the Major's, doesn’t make the mistake of drawing this charming tiny hand towards you as if you owned it, this would be looked upon as little short of an attempt at rape. You bend over it then and keep yourself at a distance of at least three feet from the lady. You then click your heels and without pursing the lips or even wetting them, sketch out a hand kiss. Somewhere between a quarter and an eighth of an inch is regarded as the correct distance. Now have you got that, my dear fellow try it out today? For sooner or later you'll have to teach it to your cadets in the etiquette class, it’s all part of the curriculum, you know.”

“I’m afraid you're right,” said Lieutenant Krafft. “We’ll be having a lot of fun together.”

“I never cease to admire you, Felicitas,” said Major Frey to his wife. “It’s really fabulous the way you manage to arrange everything,”

Frau Frey lowered her eyes modestly. “Oh, it's really nothing,” she demurred.

This was true—it really wasn't very much. The table was laid, the wine stood ready, all just as usual, and, as usual, none of these preparations were the work of Frau Frey, but of her niece, as the Major knew perfectly well.

This niece, a poor relation who looked like one and on whom Frau Frey had graciously taken pity, worked in the Frey household as a servant. She was a capable, willing, undemanding sort of girl, and although Frau Frey didn't actually pay her any wages she hoped to find a husband for her, an officer, in due course.

“What sort of man is this Lieutenant Krafft?” asked the Major's wife.

Frey didn't quite know the answer to this, though this didn't prevent him from telling her. Average,” he said. “Possibly a little above the average. We'll manage to make something of him. Sooner or later everyone comes to heel.”

“Married?”

“Not as far as I know.”

“I’ll take a closer look at him,” said Frau Felicitas.

The Major nodded meekly. He knew what that meant. She would take a closer look at this fellow Krafft to see if he would do for their niece, Barbara Bendler-Trebitz.

“Barbara!” cried Frau Felicitas peremptorily, and their niece appeared at once.

She had a round, friendly, innocent moon face with shy eyes. “Here I am,” she said agreeably in a soft chirpy voice.

“For goodness' sake, take that apron off before the gentlemen arrive. You should take more trouble with your appearance, child. Wear a white apron. And try and move gracefully.”

“Yes, of course,” said Barbara, and disappeared.

The Major watched her go with a sad shake of his head, which wasn't intended as any reproach to his wife. This would have been unthinkable, for he had nothing but gratitude and respect for her. She came from a really high-class family and was the owner of a sizeable property in Silesia, which was being run at the moment by an impoverished relative who was exempt from war service.

Frey had in fact a great deal to thank his wife for. For instance it was positively touching the way she helped him in his career. No commanding officer could have had a more devoted wife. And then again, there was the loving care with which she had furnished this house: Wildlingen-am-Main, Marktplatz 7. An old, elegant, romantic building in the Franconian style, solid and sound, and yet at the same time cozy and with a charm all its own, it might have been built specially for Felicitas Frey, née Blender-Trebitz.

“This girl Barbara,” the Major ventured to remark. “She’s a nice girl, but remarkably uncommunicative, don't you find?” “She’ll make a good wife and mother.”

“Oh yes, of course, of course,” admitted the Major. “But she ought to dress with a little more style. I mean her figure really isn't bad at all—quite the contrary, in fact.”

“Archibald,” said the Major's wife, “you don't mean to say you've been eyeing the girl?”

“Not intentionally of course,” the Major reassured her. “But after all she is running around under my nose all day long. Besides, I'm thinking of her future too, and if I'm to be quite frank, I think Captain Ratshelm would be preferable to Lieutenant Krafft.”

“Don’t you worry your head about that,” said Felicitas Frey. “This is a woman's business. If Krafft turns out to be a man of the world with really decent manners, why shouldn't we bring him into our own little inner circle?”

“I’m afraid, though, that this fellow Krafft isn't really a man of particularly fine feelings. He's more Captain Feders's type.”

“That wouldn't do,” said the Major's wife. “And if that's so, then obviously you can't have the two together in the same section, the one as tactics instructor and the other as section officer. Anyway Captain Feders hasn't got anything to give himself airs about with his wife leading that sort of life. It's disgraceful, really disgraceful. You can't have that sort of thing in an officers' training school. But we'll have to discuss that later. We mustn't try and take on too much at once. First of all I'll take a good look at this man Krafft.”

“Welcome, welcome to my humble hearth!” cried Major Frey. “So glad you could come. Come in, gentlemen. Take your coats off. Make yourselves at home.”

The Major was wearing a simple field tunic, which both conveyed an impression of sterling worth and at the same time demonstrated the extent to which he felt at ease. His Knight's Cross with oak leaves flashed brilliantly even in the lighting of the hall, and his face was beaming with good-will.

Feders and Krafft took off their things and Krafft was introduced to the Major's niece. He shook a hot, damp hand and, smiling pleasantly, looked into a face paralyzed with embarrassment. Feders made a jovial remark or two and the girl ran off giggling.

“Captain Ratshelm was just ahead of you, gentlemen, so that now the party is complete. Do come in. My wife is most anxious to get to know you, my dear Krafft.”

“The feeling is mutual,” declared Feders, noticing with delight that at this the Major looked slightly annoyed and Lieutenant Krafft extremely embarrassed. An amusing evening seemed to lie ahead.

The Major piloted the two gentlemen into the drawing-room, where Captain Ratshelm stood gesticulating animatedly to the Major's charming wife Felicitas Frey née Blender-Trebitz.

“Right, in you go!” whispered Feders, pushing Krafft forward.

The Major's wife smiled graciously at Lieutenant Krafft and immediately held out her hand expectantly, a stately, elegant figure, standing beneath some sort of ancestral portrait. She had a face like a sheep's and the bold curve of her fleshy nose was something which was impossible to overlook. Her eyes gleamed with the weary majesty of some mountain eagle. Her skin was faded, but a lot of make-up had lent it a dull, silky gloss which gave the impression of extending over her entire body and certainly was in evidence on her hands, one of which, having been so briskly extended towards him, was now seized by Lieutenant Krafft. He gave it a relatively gentle squeeze and even shook it slightly. His bow seemed to him quite adequate. An icy glint came into her eagle eyes.

But Lieutenant Krafft merely said: “Good evening, Frau Frey.”

“Splendid,” said Feders with enthusiasm. “Quite the real thing!”

“ Our friend, Lieutenant Krafft,” said the Major, trying to act the man of the world, “ will have to find his feet here of course, but I don't think that'll be too difficult for him, with the spirit prevailing under my command. Aren't I right, my dear Ratshelm?”

“Yes indeed, Major,” confirmed Ratshelm instantly as one might have expected. “We’re very proud that we can teach the young cadets here a good deal more than the mere basic principles of their trade. We make it our endeavor to grasp and mould the entire personality. Krafft will soon get the hang of this.”

“Anyhow,” said the Major with friendly condescension, “I want to welcome Lieutenant Krafft most sincerely to our ranks, as a fellow fighter for our great and good cause under what one might call our training school slogan: Officers First and Foremost!”

“What can I offer you, gentlemen?” asked the gracious lady of the house, who had turned slightly pale but had lost none of her air of majesty. “Would you care perhaps for a small glass of port?”

Captain Ratshelm thanked her humbly, signifying that this would be most acceptable. Captain Feders announced enthusiastically that the charming lady's offer was an extraordinarily happy idea. Krafft merely managed to nod.

And Major Frey remarked: “A true German mistrusts everything foreign, unless of course it's something to drink!”

Captain Ratshelm laughed heartily at his course commander's witticism.

The dinner was, as they had been told, a modest one. Lieutenant Krafft had the honor of sitting next to the lady of the house. That was not altogether a pleasure, though, for while the other guests were able to devote themselves to their platefuls of sausage and share such butter as was available among themselves; Lieutenant Krafft found himself subjected to a barrage of questions.

“Are you married, Lieutenant?”

“No, Frau Frey.”

“I should say, from your age, you really should be by now. You must be almost thirty, aren't you? Here we always say that a family tie does an awful lot for a man's moral standing, and if it's up to an officer to set an example, how much more must this apply to those who train officers! Now tell me, are you engaged? Do you by any chance carry a picture of your fiancée on you? I always, think that's such a nice thing to do. I'd love to see it, if you have one.”

“I’m afraid I'll have to disappoint you there, Frau Frey,” said Krafft evasively, not hesitating to shelter from all this curiosity behind what he regarded as a white lie, “I was indeed once as good as engaged, and the girl came from an excellent family. But the tie was brutally sundered by the war.”

Captain Feders choked and spluttered and Captain Ratshelm regarded him with disapproval. But the Major just went on eating. Since his wife was paying no attention to him he had no need to conform to her dietary regulations.

“The young lady died, then,” declared the Major's wife. It was obviously difficult for her to imagine anything but death sundering such a tie.

Lieutenant Krafft choked on his slice of bread, which under the penetrating glance of his hostess he had dared only to spread with the thinnest layer of butter. As he choked his Head went forward, and she accepted this as tacit confirmation of her assumption. He felt certain that she would express her sympathy for him. As indeed she did. But she went further than that, for after all she was more than just a woman, she was the wife of a senior officer, and known to the cadets as “the Commanderess.” So to her conventional expression of sympathy Frau Frey added the following remark: “It must be very sad for you of course, but this mustn't make you despondent or prone to that numb state of helplessness which I believe is usual among vulgar people and ordinary rankers in their distress. However, so long as you remain one of my husband's officers and colleagues I shall of course take you under my wing.”

“I’m most obliged to you, Frau Frey,” said Lieutenant Krafft warily.

“Every week I hold a social gathering at which those officers who are still bachelors can meet the young unmarried ladies of good family of Wildlingen. You must come to them in future, Lieutenant.”

“Oh that's really too much, Frau Frey,” said the Lieutenant, overwhelmed. No woman had ever tried to assert such a vigorous and possessive hold over him before. This was more than mere friendly sympathy; it was social welfare positively being thrust down his throat. The Lieutenant swallowed the so-called pudding which followed the “cold plate,” a tart of some sort or other, and as he did so he looked irritated across at Captain Feders, who seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself. Lieutenant Krafft leant forward slightly; spread his legs apart under the table rather like a Japanese wrestler searching for a hold. As he did so his right foot struck the table leg. That's to say Krafft thought it was the table leg. But shortly afterwards he became aware of a certain warmth and then a yielding quality, whereupon he drew back sharply. It was not the table leg at all but the leg of the gracious lady herself with which he had come into contact.

Frau Felicitas never flinched. Her self-control was astonishing. She merely lifted her fine sheep's nose slightly, as if smelling a bad smell.

“So sorry, so sorry,” said Krafft in embarrassment.

“I think,” said Felicitas Frey loftily,” that it's now time for the gentlemen to have their smoke.

“A good soldier,” the Major assured everybody,” is never off duty. Which is why, gentlemen, you will hardly be surprised if I take this opportunity to talk a certain amount of shop.”

“No indeed, that doesn't surprise us at all, Major,” Feders assured him.

The gentlemen were sitting in venerable leather armchairs which creaked painfully every time anyone moved. Beneath their feet was a carpet lavishly adorned with a pattern of roses. They were surrounded by plush and excessively heavy and ornately carved dark brown furniture—no mistaking this for anything but a smoking-room.

As a pure matter of form the Major held out to the officers an ornate silver-plated rosewood box well stocked with cigars. Captain Ratshelm and Captain Feders, both of whom knew the form here, declined with thanks and asked permission to smoke their own cigarettes. Only Krafft grabbed mechanically at the box. To make matters worse, once there he seized on one of the Major's show-piece cigars. The Major managed to keep his hospitable smile intact. He merely frowned slightly at the same time. Yet as Krafft bit off the tip of the cigar with his teeth and spat it thoughtlessly out on to the carpet, the Major shuddered. Not for the sake of the carpet, but because such a degree of contempt for good manners hurt his finer feelings.

“I’m so sorry,” said Lieutenant Krafft, “but sometimes I find I completely forget the difference between a drawing-room and a fox-hole.”

“When I was at the front,” said Captain Ratshelm, “I had a C.O. who always used a snow-white napkin at meals even in the front line itself. Whatever happened he never ceased to be a man of culture.”

“When he dies a hero's death he won't exactly smell of eau de Cologne,” said Feders.

“Gentlemen,” said Major Frey, “I find that there are certain things which can't be joked about. In particular those things that are what one might call sacred to us.” And he fingered his Knight's Cross with oak leaves as if to reassure himself (a) that it was still there, (b) that it was straight and clearly visible, and (c) that it could therefore be admired.

“Let us never forget, gentlemen that the high moral purpose which is one of the fundamental tenets of soldiering should be with us at all times, for once a soldier always a soldier. And an officer of our stamp is the soldier par excellence, but to get down to business. On my course, my dear Krafft, there are three companies of three sections each, and each section has one tactics instructor and one section officer. And I may say that my officers are among the finest in the entire Wehrmacht. You are now about to take your place among them, since to-morrow morning you will be taking charge of Section H for Heinrich. And I venture to suggest that it is one of the finest sections of the whole company. Aren't I right, Captain Ratshelm? As company commander you must be in the best position to judge.”

“Oh yes, that's so, Major. I'd even say it's the finest section we've had for a long time. There are a number of first-class men in it on whom I pin great hopes. As tactics instructor, wouldn't you agree with me, Feders?”

“Oh, completely,” said the Captain. “Section H for Heinrich consists of a lot of stupid, arrogant, underhand oafs. They're lazy, greedy, cheeky, stupid, mad for women and decorations. When I'm teaching them they can't tell the difference between a hand-grenade and a field kitchen, a machine-gun and a ration pack, orderlies and orders. They're interested primarily in food, and only secondarily in ammunition. And their faith in a certain former Corporal seems more important to them than any proper appraisal of a given situation.”

The Major smiled. And Captain Ratshelm tried to do the same. Lieutenant Krafft was merely astonished. Captain Feders's utterly uninhibited statements bordered on high treason. Krafft sucked pleasurably at his cigar.

“Our beloved Captain Feders,” said the Major with a curt laugh, though his eyes were like pinpoints and his smile frozen as his voice grew sharper and sharper, “Our beloved Captain Feders is very fond of using bitter words and cutting expressions, and in fact has quite a reputation for them. But all of us who know him well realize how he means these things to be taken. He likes to pile on the irony, so to speak, rather as Blücher and Wrangel used to do. He has, however, sufficient tact to confine such remarks to a most intimate circle, which is really a sort of proof of his confidence in us. His prodigious capabilities as a tactics instructor help us to be indulgent to- wards him. If I've understood you correctly, Captain Feders, what you mean is this. The cadets of Section H, whose tactics instructor you are, are still deficient in a number of soldierly qualities and riddled with human weakness.

They're badly in need of some first-class tactical training, which after all is the point of an officers' training school. Their faith in our Führer is gratifyingly pronounced—an indispensable prerequisite indeed for their careers as officers—yet this cannot be regarded as enough in itself. Isn't that so, Captain Feders —isn't that what you meant by your remarks?”

“Yes, Major, exactly,” said Feders impassively.

The Major smiled indulgently. He could hardly help admiring himself He was more than just a soldier; he was a diplomat as well. He might well be on the threshold of a great career. His work at the training school would be an excellent first step towards it. “Well, my dear Krafft, how were you thinking of handling your cadets?”

“Strictly, but fairly,” said Krafft, unable to think of any other platitude just at that moment.

“What methods of instruction were you thinking of employing?”

“Whatever methods are currently in use here and you consider correct, Major.”

The Major nodded. The last part of Krafft's answer was particularly gratifying. The fellow was adaptable or at least was prepared to be, which was always the essential prerequisite for good, fruitful co-operation. But what the Major liked to think of as his restless spirit of inquiry wouldn't leave him alone. “Which method do you prefer, Krafft?” he asked. “Skillful persuasion, instruction by example, or drilling things into people by force?”

“Whichever seems suitable in any given instance, Major.”

Again the Major nodded. This time he wasn't exactly displeased by Krafft's answer, but he wasn't particularly happy about it either. The fellow was suspiciously evasive and simply wouldn't allow himself to be pinned down. The Major would have to be careful. The existence of one Captain Feders among his officers was unsettling enough. Two such people in one and the same section spelt trouble.

However, the Major was spared further speculation, because at that moment his wife, Frau Felicitas, poked her by no means insignificant sheep's nose into the room, smiled, and said quite brazenly: “What a pity you gentlemen have to leave so soon! But of course you have a heavy day tomorrow.”

“Archibald,” said the Major's wife, “I don't like this man at all.”

“I can't say I'm exactly enthusiastic about him either, Felicitas dear,” agreed Frey with alacrity. “But unfortunately I can't always choose the people I work with. And the fellow has been positively forced on me.”

The Major suppressed a yawn and tried to look interested. -He usually took notice of her advice, though it wasn't always possible for him to follow it. But one thing was clear: Felicitas was remarkably good at sizing up how useful and valuable a subordinate was going to be. The quality was inbred in her, so to speak, for several of her ancestors had been generals, important landowners and ministers of state.

“The man has no manners, Archibald. He doesn't know how to kiss one's hand, and he has no conversation. He eats untidily, scatters ash all over the place, and never once addressed me as ' ma'am '.”

“Most regrettable,” said the Major.

“Not that I overestimate the value of social conventions, Archibald. But you know my view: people with properly trained minds have good manners as well. This man Krafft may well be very capable, but then so are a lot of artisans. A true officer needs to be more than just capable. In short, Archibald, I have considerable misgivings.”

“So have I, Felicitas, my dear! But what am Ito do?”

“You could talk to the General; it's still not too late. To-morrow, though, when this man takes over the section, it could be too late.”

The Major lowered himself heavily into an armchair. The telephone stood just beside him. He had a problem to wrestle with now. He certainly wanted to protect himself from harm and also not to disappoint his wife. But it wasn't so easy to get the General to change his mind, for he always required absolutely conclusive arguments.

“Did you notice how he looked me up and down, Archibald?” the Major's wife now asked with a shudder of indignation.

“He looked you up and down?”

“Almost as if I were one of those terrible women. I felt utterly ashamed. A positively animal look, Archibald. I regard him as quite shameless and utterly degenerate.”

“But my dear Felicitas,” said the Major in some confusion, “he probably only wanted to flirt with you a bit. You should laugh at that and take it as a compliment—an unfortunate compliment perhaps, but at least the right idea was there. He simply tried to make eyes at his commanding officer's wife, in order, in his rather clumsy way, to get you to like him.”

The Major took one look at his wife and felt sure that he was right. Her qualities were unmistakably more of a spiritual nature. But then he began to have slight doubts. Not everyone, he told himself, was made like himself, with his sense of duty, his moral irreproachability. He had known how to sublimate his instincts in action. But even among his own officers there might easily be people who were inclined to go astray. He had even read of a singular addiction in some young people for older women, and there was nothing he would put beyond Krafft.

“He looked at me as if he wanted to undress me!” insisted his wife with a great show of indignation.

The Major shook his head sadly. “You must be mistaken, Felicitas,” he went so far as to say.

“I don't make mistakes about that sort of thing,” she insisted. “And if all that isn't enough for you, then I won't keep the rest from you: the man tried to molest me in an unbecoming manner under the table.”

“Inconceivable!” said the Major. “An unfortunate accident, perhaps.”

“It can't all be accident!” cried Frau Felicitas bitterly. Then she walked over to the door, opened it, and called: “Barbara!”

Barbara, the girl who was both niece and maid, appeared at once. A shabby apron was tied round her, for her day's duties were by no means over. She blinked and looked past the Major at Felicitas. She waited.

“Barbara,” said Felicitas imperiously, “what was the matter when you were helping the officers into their overcoats just now? You let out a shriek and then giggled like an idiot. Why?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing at all,” said Barbara, blushing.

“Aha!“ cried Frau Felicitas. “Lieutenant Krafft was standing just beside you. Did this man pinch you by any chance? And if he did, where?”

“It was nothing,” Barbara insisted. “Really nothing.” She looked down.

“That’ll do,” said Felicitas Frey. “You can go back to your work now.”

Barbara left with visible relief. The Major watched her go, thoughtfully. She did indeed have a remarkably fine figure. And Krafft had noticed the fact on the very first evening, the depraved fellow.

“Well?” asked Felicitas insistently. “Aren’t you going to do anything about it? It may be too late by to-morrow.”

Major Frey nodded gloomily. Then with an air of determination he picked up the telephone and had he put through to the barracks. When after a slight delay the switchboard at the training school answered, he gave his name and rank. Then, clearing his throat, he asked to be put through to the General.

“Modersohn,” said a clear, quiet voice almost at once.

“I’m terribly sorry to trouble you at such a late hour, General . . .”

“Don’t waste time explaining,” said the General. “Get to the point.”

“General, on mature reflection I have decided to request you most earnestly to countermand your appointment of Lieutenant Krafft to be section officer of my Number Six Company.”

“Request refused,” said the General, and hung up.

“What always fascinates me,” said Captain Ratshelm, “is the elegance and sophistication one finds in Major Frey's house.”

“And what fascinates me,” said Feders, “is the colossal narrow-mindedness that prevails there.”

They were walking up the hill towards the barracks, a picture of harmony, it might have been thought. In the center walked Captain Ratshelm, to his right Captain Feders, to his left Lieutenant Krafft—men engaged in the training of officers, striding easily along, in amiable conversation.

It was a bright, clear night and the snow crunched beneath their feet. Everything around them seemed mildly enchanted—the sharp outlines of the trees, the houses like dolls' houses, a sky full of twinkling stars. A typical German winter's night, thought Ratshelm. Then he turned to Feders again and said cordially: “You’ve got it all wrong, Feders my dear fellow. Our Major and his worthy wife are cherishing eternal values. They are upholding all those things that it is so essential to preserve—home, dignity, social intercourse.”

“Nonsensical sham, nauseating twaddle, an eye on the main chance!“ declared Feders. “These people are living in a mad world of their own, and of course they're not the only ones.”

“Excuse me, Feders,” said Captain Ratshelm indulgently but in a mild tone of rebuke, “you’re talking about your own Major, you know.”

“I’m talking about a state of mind that I call narrow-mindedness,” said Feders stubbornly. “It’s a widespread defect, like short sight. No one with it sees further than his own limited horizon.”

“My dear Feders,” said Ratshelm, trying to calm him down, “we should strive to live our lives in a spirit of loyalty, humility and unselfishness.”

“Tripe ! “ cried Feders abruptly. “What we should do is keep our eyes and ears open and see this world as it really is, with all the muck that's in it, and all the blood. What matters is to be able to see beyond the horizon. Over there behind Hill Two Hundred and One lies Berlin, and a few thousand human beings die there almost every night, torn to shreds, suffocated, burning and bleeding to death. A few hundred miles further on is the eastern front. While we're busy kissing hands and grinning inanely, thousands of men are dying there, crushed by tanks and burned by flame-throwers—and here we are entertaining ourselves with polished social conventions.”

“You’re a bitter man, Captain Feders,” said Ratshelm. “I can understand why.”

“If you're going to harp on my marriage, then I'll really go to town on you.”

“I shall take care not to do that, Feders,” Ratshelm hastened to reassure him. “I merely wanted to try and explain my point of view. But sometimes, you know, you really are a difficult person to get along with.”

“Only sometimes, unfortunately,” said Feders. “Most of the time I am paralyzed by weakness, fatigue and disgust. Above all I am quite unlike our friend Krafft here, who seems able to walk in his sleep. Or do you have a melancholy streak in you?”

“A streak of something or other,” said the Lieutenant, “but I'm afraid it doesn't run very deep. Do you remember that girl Barbara—how she laughed!”

“So she did!” said Feders, suddenly recovering his spirits. “I’d almost forgotten about it. The little thing squealed like some kitchen slut who's had her bottom pinched.”

“I don't understand,” said Ratshelm in bewilderment. “I imagine you two gentlemen are talking about Fräulein Barbara Bendler-Trebitz, Frau Frey's niece. She laughed, certainly, but what's so special about that?”

“The point is why she laughed,” declared Feders. “She laughed because our friend Krafft did in fact pinch her bottom.”

With a sense of outrage Ratshelm said: “How could you do such a thing, Lieutenant Krafft? I find that downright vulgar. And in that house, too!”

“Well,” said Krafft, “maybe you do, but the little girl enjoyed it! In that house too. Quite instructive, really. Or don't you think so?”

“` Request refused,' was all the General said. Nothing else.”

Major Frey, man of the world and hero of many battles, sat there shattered. A curt rejection of this sort from the General could have quite unforeseeable consequences. The General had always been a difficult man to approach, yet he, Frey, had never before known him quite so hard and uncompromising.

“I’m afraid,” muttered the Major, “that I've just made a mistake that's going to be almost impossible to put right. And it's all the fault of this Lieutenant Krafft!”

“I had a feeling,” said his wife, with undertones of triumph in her voice, “that this man's appearance was going to lead to little good.”

“Maybe,” said the Major uneasily, racking his brains for some way out of the situation, “but at all events it would have been better if you hadn't interfered!”

“But you know my reasons for doing so,” she said in astonishment. “And you've accepted them up to now.”

“Perhaps I shouldn't have,” said the Major suddenly. Yet he quickly saw that it was pointless. He avoided his wife's eyes, for he felt that she had let him down badly.

His glance wandered restlessly over the rose-patterned carpet. He just hadn't been sufficiently on the alert. He should have taken her idiosyncrasies into account more. She was inordinately sensitive about certain things. She could talk for hours on end about illness, wounds and death, but the simplest physical contact was sometimes enough to bring her to the verge of unreason. There was nobility about her, of course, unmistakable nobility; the Major was in no doubt of that. But on the delicate subject of sex, what she liked was tenderness, the shimmer of romance, chivalrous devotion, soft music and the willing attendance of courtiers. She was deeply sensitive. And honorable too, uncommonly honorable. But she was utterly lacking in all sense of reality. Damn it, officers weren't a bunch of minnesingers—certainly not this fellow Krafft who was responsible for the mess he was in now.

“Felicitas,” said the Major, “I think you shouldn't overdo your role as a paragon of virtue, not when grim realities are at stake. My God, do try and realize that a training school like this isn't a hot-house for sensitive plants!”

Felicitas looked at her husband as if he were some workman who had forced his way into her house. She raised her great sheep's nose majestically into the air and declared: “That is no way to speak to me, Archibald.”

“Oh, really!” said the Major, who still hadn't recovered from the shock of Modersohn's two words. “If you hadn't come out with these idiotic sexual complexes of yours, I would never have incurred the General's rebuke.”

“I pity you,” she said, “and find it lamentable that you should try to shift the blame for your own ineptness on to me.” The sheep's nose rose still higher into the air, looked ever more majestic, then described a hundred-and-eighty degree turn and was borne out of the room, a convincing picture of indignant pride. A door slammed and the Major was alone.

This Lieutenant Krafft, thought the Major bitterly, is not only endangering my marriage but has brought the General down on top of me as well. To hell with this man Krafft!