Willie's War Ch. 04

"I apologise. Sometimes I get out of step with social niceties. I am Felix Haushofer, and I know all about displacement. For many years I was a Professor of History at the University of Sonnenburg, but I wasn't the right flavour for the regime that emerged there. Four years ago I was summarily discharged from the faculty. Dumped to make way for a Nazi."

He shrugged dismally. "It was nothing unusual. Such things are happening everywhere these days. A man called Bernhard Rust is now the Reich Minister for Science, Education and Popular Culture, and he was considered mentally unstable even when he was just a Nazi storm trooper."

He led the way through the shop and they entered a small sitting room, home to a cheerful coal fire. It wasn't large, but its heterogeneous mixture of unassuming antiques and comfortable shabby armchairs, handmade rugs and books – there were lots and lots of books – rendered it pleasant enough. In an extension there was a gas-ring for cooking and a brick-built boiler, coal-fired, for washing clothes. Everything needed redecorating.

The man called Felix watched as the girl he had invited in took a series of tentative steps which reminded him of a kitten sniffing out unfamiliar territory. Eventually she paused and smiled, satisfied with what she saw.

Later they shared an evening meal of noodles with tinned herrings at a small table in the same room, and while they ate Felix Haushofer sensed that the girl was beginning to relax. He noticed how the unshaded single light bulb in the ceiling caught deep red glints in her hair, and he became quite serious. "You really are a remarkable young lady, Willie Froehlich."

"I am?" Willy asked, hoping not to hear that his host had already penetrated his disguise as a female. "I think you are the remarkable one, to take me in off the street as you have. After all, you don't really know who I am, do you?"

The man chuckled. "I'm quite good at identifying people I can trust. Would you like anything to finish your meal?" he asked, "I have no real coffee I'm afraid. The British naval blockade deprives most people of real coffee and I can only afford ersatz, the substitute stuff."

Willie said he'd prefer tea, if he had any. "I don't understand anything anymore. The British were beaten along with the French last year and they are now alone and without allies. Why do they insist on pursuing a war they cannot win?"

Felix Haushofer chewed his lip as if it were an instinctive habit. "My guess is they just don't trust Hitler, and they're frightened he will inflict fascism upon them if they make peace. After all, a fascist government was at the heart of the terms he demanded for not occupying the area of Vichy France." He rattled his cup with a spoon. "The English have only a small army, but they are strong on the oceans. Strong enough to deny Germans their coffee."

He looked at Willie again, and this time gave a little shrug. "I don't know too much about this war. I don't have any interest in it. I expect the British have their own excuses for continuing."

"Excuses don't count. War is bad." Willie proclaimed stoutly.

He caught a quick gleam in the old man's eyes at that moment, as if he wanted to elaborate on that simple statement, but was guarding himself against doing so. "I agree, Willie Froehlich. War is bad." was all he said.

Willie found his bed that night to be in a small closet room that was itself yet another bookstore. All kinds of books, piled to the ceiling, surrounded him on every side. But that didn't prevent him from sleeping like a dead person that night.

The following morning he set to work with a vengeance in order to earn his keep, dusting things and straightening them, sorting the books into neater arrangements on the shelves and organising a centre piece of choice items to catch the eye of people peeping in through the door.

The weather had turned quite bitter even when off the open street, and Herr Haushofer provided a portable paraffin heater to give the shop a little welcoming comfort. The stove brought a number of people through the door just to reap the benefit of it, but just as the crafty shop-owner had suspected many of them ended up buying something.

A pale faced young soldier bearing the rank of Captain on the shoulders of his greatcoat was one that came through the door. He didn't smile at Willie as men usually did, in fact he didn't seem to see him at all. He warmed his hands by the stove then went along the shelves, selected a book, glanced at the contents and then put it back. Then he took another, opened it and studied it briefly. After a few minutes he closed the book and brought it across to where Willie stood.

"Can I help you, Herr Hauptman?" Willie asked.

The soldier still made no effort to smile, although he was vividly Aryan and would have looked quite handsome if he'd made the attempt. But his face remained grey and gaunt. "This book is about the American Civil War." he said.

Willie glanced at the dustcover and nodded. "Yes. It is in excellent condition and for sale at a fair price."

The man placed the book on the countertop and slapped some money down on it. "I buy it for you." he said. Leaving the book in place and saying nothing more he then swiftly strode out from the shop.

Willie put the money into the cash register, then curiosity had the better of him and he opened the book that had been left laying there. On the first page there was nothing but a caption written by a young soldier of long ago to introduce the rest of the contents, and it was clear that the grey-faced Captain had just ringed it with his own red pencil. It read:

"War is not play. It is not pleasure. It is not sport under the greenwood trees. It is a savage encounter with desperate adversaries who deal death and grievous wounds."

Willie was under no illusion as to what that red pencil mark was intended to mean. It was that mysterious army officer's way of expressing his personal feelings; feelings that would have been derided and may even have proved dangerous to him if he'd expressed them in any other way.

Herr Haushofer smiled with satisfaction when he was cashing-up at the end of the week. "It appears that I made a sound business judgement when I involved you here, Willie. The sale of books as increased considerably since you took a place behind the shop counter. Clearly people enjoy being served by someone with a pretty face rather than the grim old one that I own."

He encountered the man's gaze again and fidgeted under it, although his voice was kind enough. "I do my best for you Herr Haushofer."

"You do more than is required. Your enthusiasm for books spills over and becomes infectious, and you never seem stuck for a comment on any subject. Customers like that kind of chatter when they are spending money."

Later he explained he wished Willie to become used to running the shop alone occasionally, to allow him to devote more time to the meetings of the local Teutonic History Society, which he had agreed could assemble in his sitting room.

***

Felix Haushofer made tea with a flourish, raising and lowering the kettle as the stream of water splashed onto the mint leaves packed into the bottom of a glass. "My tea ritual," he said with a smile, and then ..."Merde!" he cursed when he scalded his hand.

"Ah! At least you are polite enough to loose your temper in a foreign language." observed Willie as he forced the man's hand beneath the cold water tap.

"I can shout oaths in a dozen languages." fumed Felix.

"Many coarse seamen can do the same, but can you speak sense in any?"

"Yes, I speak French and English fluently and I can manage some conversation in Italian too. Have you ever wished to speak another language?"

"My father, when he was alive, insisted that I should learn another language. I chose English because I found it the easiest. But when he died my mother stopped the lessons. She said it was an unnecessary extravagance."

Felix nodded thoughtfully. "When we have cleared away our meal tonight, I think we should continue your lessons. When Hitler makes his peace with England there will be increasing work for English-German interpreters, and you could find yourself with better work than you have here."

And thereafter Willie had something else to occupy his time in the evenings.

Over the weeks he soon became used to the number of people belonging to The Historical Society who walked through the shop and went straight into see Herr Haushofer in the sitting room. He came to know some of them by name. There was Frau Ritter, Herr Ohlendorf, Herr Vockbruck and a skinny, middle-aged spinster called Fraulein Hottl. There were others too. The men drank beer, but didn't become drunk, while the women took their knitting as if they were going on a picnic.

In late 1940, Hitler postponed his proposed invasion of the British Isles and instead he impatiently turned to the east and the vast expanses of territory he had always coveted there. In June 1941, having conquered Greece and Yugoslavia, and with the armies of Hungary, Rumania and Bulgaria as obedient chattels, he unleashed Operation Barbarossa; the invasion of Soviet Russia.

On a line from the Baltic to the Black Sea the Wehrmacht relentlessly stormed forward.

During the early part of that year Willie lived unobtrusively in Heidelberg in the guise of a woman, but he was no female slave. He kept the place where he lived and worked clean, but Felix Haushofer always cooked their meals and helped with washing the dishes afterwards, and he also helped with the laundry when it needed to be done. He was sweet-natured, undemanding man, and seemed genuinely interested in helping him through an awkward phase of life. Willie was grateful to him for his kindness, which he had not expected from someone so generally at ease, but he felt no desire to know him more intimately. All physical feelings belonged to his knowledge of Eduard, to memories of his glorious naked figure striding unselfconsciously round the bedroom at Ravenskopf.

A number of men who came into the shop flirted with him and he often flirted back, but he maintained a life of celibacy. Homosexuality was considered an unnatural sexual deviance everywhere, and would warrant imprisonment, and there were disturbing stories being whispered around that in some parts of Hitler's Germany sexual deviants and feeble-minded people along with disfigured and permanently crippled children were being given lethal injections as part of a racial cleansing programme.

He concentrated on work and from it drew the bonus of learning. The range of books in the shop covered every imaginable subject and gave him the chance to keep abreast with the studies he had started at university, and he also took very seriously the language lessons with Herr Haushofer each evening.

On Sundays the shop never opened, and Herr Haushofer allowed Willie to spend the whole day to do as he wished. Willie always took him at his word and one day in June after they had taken lunch, he went down to the Neckar and walked along the path by the river that he's so often walked in the past. The bell in the spire of the church of the Holy Spirit tolled crystal clear over the water. The summer sunshine was cool that day so he thrown a shawl over the top of the blue dress he was wearing and he had put on a broad brimmed hat.

The river bank was a familiar place to him and conjured up many memories of his early days as a student. Things had been much freer in those heady, sunny days. None of those in his social group had cared about what was legal or illegal. They pleased themselves like buccaneers and took their pleasure where they found it.

Willie too had been quite shameless. Drawn by his good looks and his effeminate ways a good many handsome youths had courted him. It had been a time of experimentation, and he had discovered that he enjoyed the taste of men. He enjoyed their attention and he enjoyed having sex with them. He had allowed a great many of them to use him in their beds, and some of his tutors had taken advantage of his generosity too.

Being effeminate at heart he had always been a bottom; always a receiver rather than a giver, but as time went on he had become increasingly choosey about who he went with. Exasperated by the frailty of casual sex he had sought out relationships that provided elements of true affection and commitment. That had been an exercise that had culminated in his affair with Eduard, and after a year, only now was he beginning to overcome the loss of that man.

Head down and lost in his thoughts he was humming to himself as he strolled along. Most other people were lounging on the grass away from the river and he had the path to himself. A sound behind him made him glance up, and he was startled when a tall young man came striding briskly past, going in the same direction he was. He went by with such a rush that Willie took a step sideways, stumbled, and for a moment felt he was about to go hurtling into the water.

The man's hand reached out and caught him before he toppled. "I'm so sorry. I didn't intend to knock you over."

He looked instantly apologetic and concerned, and Willie noticed he was astonishingly good looking. Tall, fair, with eyes the same colour of his own, and he had long powerful arms and athletic shoulders. He kept a firm hold on him as he spoke, and Willie asked him to let go so he could straighten his hat. While he did that he gave the stranger a surreptitious glance from under his eyelashes. He looked older than he was himself, and he was wearing a dark blue suit and a red necktie, and on his head he wore a brown trilby pulled over at a rakish angle.

"It was silly of me. I didn't see you soon enough to get out of your way." he said.

The man smiled. He looked polished and well-bred, and he radiated uncompromising masculinity. "It was entirely my fault. I shouldn't have been in such a tearing hurry. Are you all right? Would you like to sit down for a moment?" He pointed to a bench near them that offered a good view of the river.

The stranger was treating him with the same kind of polite attention he would offer to a girl, and Willie was susceptible to that sort of thing. The prospect of sitting next to him was appealing, and he saw no harm in sitting and chatting for a while before they went their separate ways. Just for a little while anyway. Although he realised that the young gentleman, who was clearly very well off, would probably throw up his hands and scream if he realised he was associating with a cross-dresser.

He let the man lead him to the bench and sit beside him with a respectful distance between.

"I'm Viktor Schacht," he said, "My father owns an iron foundry in Mannheim but he keeps his family here – you know, away from the smoke."

"You are very lucky. Heidelberg is a delightful place to live. My name is Wilhelmina Froehlich, but everyone calls me Willie. I moved here recently from Silesia, but I'm nothing special. Just a shop assistant."

The man grinned and purred as he turned his head and allowed a slow, knowing gaze to run over the newly met young lady, lingering at the V of her well used suit jacket. There was nothing provocative about the cut of his clothes, but all at once Willie felt almost naked.

"Hmm, I think Willie Froehlich is probably a very special shop assistant." said Viktor.

A rush of heat made Willie's cheeks burn, but he couldn't help but laugh. The man's way with a girl was wonderfully undergraduate, and though he was obviously middle-class, perhaps even upper middle-class, there were no airs or pretensions about him. He seemed completely at ease talking with a shop girl.

With his mind in slight disarray Willie gazed at the river. A white paddleboat with a tall black funnel was wending its way upstream, and on the opposite bank, in the oldest parts of the town, great spreading poinciana were breaking out in sumptuous orange-red blossom, the radiant colour enhanced by bright green fronds and the intense blue of the sky. Everything, the water, the trees, the paddleboat and the old buildings, shimmered in the soft luminosity of the afternoon. It was a lovely scene with the great bulk of an old castle set on the hillside as a backdrop.

He gave the stranger a long hard look, and received a long hard look in return. "Are you married, Herr Schacht?" he asked.

"You must call me Viktor," he said. "No, I'm not married. My family would like me to marry, of course. They expect me to take over my fathers business eventually and do things in the time honoured style. I've thought about it a few times, but I've never felt it was the right thing to do. I don't want to make the mistake of settling with the wrong woman. That would only lead to a life of misery for everyone."

"Are you not likely to be taken for the army?"

Viktor shook his head. "No, I oversee the iron-ore imports from Sweden on behalf of my fathers firm. The production of iron is of vital importance to the Third Reich at this time." He pulled his jacket straight and sat square. "Look, I would enjoy making amends for the rough way I treated you. Would you like to have tea?" he suggested.

Willie's eyes lit up at the idea. "That would be nice, thank you."

Viktor led him onto the terrace of a nearby hotel where they were serving tea, and where elegant women were sitting together and chatting and prosperous-looking couples were eating little sandwiches and speaking in hushed tones.

They shared a proper high tea and finally, unable to drag things out any longer, Viktor walked Willie into the lobby, and stood looking down at the girl he had encountered on the river bank. She seemed tiny and appeared fragile to him, but in fact after talking to her, he knew she was spirited and more than capable of defending her own ideas. She had strong opinions about some things, and so far he agreed with most of them. He found her incredibly exciting and breathtakingly beautiful. He didn't wish to leave her and he would have lingered if he had not made previous arrangements to meet his family for dinner. But he knew he had to see her again.

"I love talking to you." he said.

Willie smiled shyly at him." I like talking to you."

They stood in silence for a moment longer, and then Viktor said. "Would you have lunch with me sometime? Next Sunday perhaps?" he looked hopeful, because he longed to touch her hand but didn't dare. Even more he would have loved to touch her face. She had exquisite skin.

"I'm working most of the time, but Sunday would be okay. I could meet you here, by the river."

"No, no. I shall collect you. Where is the shop that uses you so hard?"

"If you insist in collecting me, you should call at the bookshop on Dresdener Allee."

They were suddenly allies in an unspoken conspiracy, the continuation of a friendship, or whatever it was. Willie knew that Viktor had been flirting with him and he realised that he had been flirting back, but he just hoped they could be friends too. He didn't dare imagine more, but he wanted to know more about him. He wanted to know where he lived and what his home was like, what food he enjoyed and if his parents were still alive.

When he wandered the streets on his way back to the bookshop, Willie realised he felt happier than he had done for a long time. Since Eduard had died, he thought. His mind lingered on the man he had recently met, and he imagined that the world was not such a dismal place after all.

***

He was not prepared for the reaction of Herr Haushofer when he mentioned his meeting with Viktor, and how they had spoken for a short while and had planned lunch for the following Sunday. It came as a surprise. In the time they had been together the old man had begun to look upon him as a daughter, and now he began showing the concern of a fussing mother hen.