They stood in a dark hallway for a minute, listening to the sounds of the night outside. The dog grew quiet; no steps could be heard echoing off the walls of the narrow street, smelling of cabbage and rotten water.
“You think they’re gone?”
“I sure do hope so.” Willi stuck his head outside, turned it left and right. “Come, let’s go. I know a girl who’ll let us in for the night. Can’t go back to school now; they’ll be waiting for us on the way there, that’s for sure.”
“What about the girl’s parents?”
“She lives with a friend.”
“What girl is allowed to live with a friend?”
“A young woman, all right? Stop it with the third-degree!”
Johann would find the situation amusing if it weren’t for the very real danger of the troopers expecting them somewhere in the darkness. Much to his surprise, they made it safely to a small house facing the river bank.
A dark-haired girl opened the door to Willi’s persistent knocking, rubbing her eyes and all of a sudden conscious of the rolls on her head, at the sight of Johann.
“I’m so sorry,” she laughed, pulling the ends of her robe together. “I didn’t know you were bringing company.”
“Johann, this is Maria. Maria, this is Johann. I told you about him.”
“Ah, yes, you did.” Maria grinned, motioning them into the kitchen. “I don’t want to wake Greta. Where are you coming from?”
“I’ll tell you later,” Willi promised. “But can I please use your phone first? I need to call my father.”
“Of course, by all means. But… at this hour?” She flipped the light on, which Willi turned off at once, but not before his black-eyed acquaintance had caught sight of his face. “Oh, Willi! What did you get yourself into this time?”
“We got into a little scramble with the SS. Hence the light. Better leave it off; they may be looking for us.”
Maria only pointed to the table. “You know where the phone is.”
After General von Sielaff made the necessary calls, Herr Hauptmann’s driver collected the boys from Maria’s house and brought them back to the school, only to escort them straight to the Hauptmann’s office. Inside, next to a familiar couple of SS troopers◦– one still nursing his bloody nose with a stained handkerchief◦– a black-clad officer stood, the head of something judging by the insignia, which couldn’t possibly signify anything good, Johann silently concluded.
He pulled himself up and clicked his heels nevertheless. Surprisingly, Willi followed suit.
“Here they are,” the Hauptmann announced in a dejected tone, gesturing toward the boys. “Cadet Brandt and Cadet von Sielaff. Was it them, who assaulted you?” He turned to the SS men.
“Jawohl,” both replied in unison.
“What do you have to say for yourselves?” the Hauptmann sighed, rubbing his forehead tiredly.
“It’s all my fault,” Willi started speaking before Johann even had a chance to open his mouth. “I snuck out at night to see my girlfriend, saw these gentlemen…” he shot a pointed glare in the SS men’s direction, “beat a Jewish man with their batons and went to the police to report it. They, however, refused to do a damn thing, after which I decided to bring my friend along, thinking that maybe together we’d be able to help at least someone. But when we arrived at the scene, these fine gentlemen grabbed us in the most insolent fashion, taunting us in a very unseemly, for uniformed men, manner. As I pointed it out, that gentleman hit me across the face, after which Johann, in his desire to protect me, hit his comrade in his face. Since we were very much outnumbered, we fled the streets and hid in my girlfriend’s apartment until Herr Hauptmann’s driver was kind enough to come and collect us. I apologize for my behavior and I am ready to face any consequences of my actions, that is, my sneaking out at night; I, however, will not apologize for any altercations with these two men since, as you can see, they’re just as guilty as us.”
Judging by the manner in which the Hauptmann pinched his nose, it was not the response he expected to hear. With a pained look on his face, he turned to the black-clad SS officer, started saying something quietly into his ear, making motions with his hands… An old friend’s son; a brat, yes… Something about Reichsmarschall Göring himself… The black-clad officer’s face remained positively unchanged, as unyielding as a wall. He nodded slowly, solemnly; whispered a question. The Hauptmann replied something in jest; the black-clad officer finally grinned.
“The boys seem to have misunderstood what they saw,” the Hauptmann started in his regular voice, sounding this time very much like a bad actor, with a warning glance in the boys’ direction. “Perhaps you’d be so kind as to explain it to them, Herr Sturmbannführer?”
“Of course.” The officer’s voice betrayed a Viennese accent, just as noticeable as Willi’s Berliner’s one. “I suppose you two have heard about that outrageous assassination of our Foreign Office diplomat, Ernst vom Rath, committed in Paris by a Jew, Grynszpan.”
He held a pause, expecting an acknowledgment. The Hauptmann next to him cleared his throat in a particular manner. Johann mumbled a quiet, “Jawohl.”
“Cadet von Sielaff?”
“Yes, I did hear that story. Grynszpan was living with his uncle in Paris from what I understand, while his family was expelled from the territory of Germany in police trucks, jeered at and abused by the SS and SA men. I can see how it would move him to retaliate.”
“If you can see how it would move him to retaliate,” the SS officer mocked, “you can certainly see how it moved us to retaliate. And where did you learn that information about Grynszpan anyway? It wasn’t in the official state newspapers.”
Willi remained silent.
“Well, never mind that. I just want you to tell me if you understand our reasoning, apologize to the men in my charge for assaulting them and let’s forget the whole thing. No one needs to be expelled from a school for some silly misunderstanding, does he?”
Johann swallowed his pride, as he had already done once before when he surrendered to his teachers’ demands for him to become a member of the Hitlerjugend. He knew that it was wrong, so very wrong and unjust, this entire damn situation but at the same time he realized, with painful clarity, that nothing could have been done about it and that his pigheadedness, no matter how justified it was, would only get him expelled from the school and that◦– throwing away his dream of becoming a fighter ace solely due to some principle◦– he simply could not afford.
“I apologize, Herr Sturmbannführer.” He looked into each of the SS men’s eyes. “I apologize to you too, comrades.”
“Apology accepted.” The officer inclined his head; turned to Willi expectantly.
Please, don’t be daft and just say it, Johann implored him silently.
“I apologize,” Willi finally offered.
The Hauptmann appeared to release a breath that he was holding.
Hands were thoroughly shaken, right arms raised in the necessary salutes and the black-clad procession left the office.
“Get out of here, you two,” the Hauptmann muttered right after, gesturing the boys to the door. “I don’t have the strength to deal with you right now. Go to your room, stay there until your morning roll-call and think about what you’ve done. If it weren’t for your father, Wilhelm, you would have long been not only kicked out of here but incarcerated in the Gestapo jail, that’s for sure! Get out, I said!”