Unteroffizier Heinz Schneider.
And Lance Corporal Leo.
Of course, his name was not really Leo, but the priest thought it suited him, with his slow-burning fierceness.
It was so heartbreakingly sad, the priest thought, to see the youth and strength of Europe sacrificed to the vast indifference of war. All the talents and potential of these young men, their futures, their children: thrown away, lost. He couldn’t put faces to the other names, but to this last one he could. He recalled the brightness and passion of those blue eyes, the penetrating gaze. He’d seen pride there, single-mindedness, and driving ambition.
Standing by the graveside, head bent, he wondered what this man’s destiny would have been had fate not dealt him such an early death. Who could tell how much had been lost? Who could guess what he might have achieved, in ten, or thirty, or fifty years’ time, this Leo, this – to give him his real name – Adolf Hitler? He might have become a great artist; the whole world might have recognized his genius.
The workings of God, the priest reminded himself, cannot be known to mankind. We cannot begin to understand; we can only have faith.
As he walked away, he looked back at the three stark crosses, and rain started to fall.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: Lance Corporal Adolf Hitler was treated for an injury in the crypt of Messines Church, Belgium, in the winter of 1914. Shortly after this he was awarded the Iron Cross for bravery, for rescuing an officer under heavy fire. Hitler is known to have produced many drawings and paintings during his time as a soldier, one of which shows the ruined cloisters at Messines.
ECLIPSED
Matt Whyman
The nuclear stand-off between the United States of America and the Soviet Union, part of what was known as the cold war, dominated global politics for more than four decades after the end of World War Two. By the 1980s, people lived with the very real fear of a nuclear Armageddon…
I missed the moment that the moon exploded. Like so many people, I was fast asleep when it happened. According to my friend Maisie, whose neighbour works a night shift, it looked just like a mothball fragmenting into the void.
The morning after, I discovered my father staring out of the kitchen window. He was barely blinking. On the radio a news report claimed that America was demanding some explanation from the Soviets. At a time when the world lived in fear of a nuclear strike from one side or the other, it seemed like an act of madness for Russia to launch a lunar attack. My father didn’t appear to be listening, however, and at first I didn’t realize the enormity of what was being broadcast. It was only when I sneezed on account of my hay fever that he noticed me.
“Sleep well, cupcake?” he asked.
“Sure,” I told him, looking around. “Where’s Mum?”
As he pressed his lips into a smile, I noticed his eyes shine over. “She’ll be back later,” he said after a moment. “I promised her I’d tell you that.”
At school I found everyone talking about the same thing. At first I thought I was the victim of a grand hoax. How could the moon just cease to exist? I had only been alive for fourteen years. Considering a lifetime without it seemed unthinkable. I remember that first day was clear and bright. The sky, as blue as a lagoon, had not a cloud in sight. During a special assembly, our headmistress explained that with the loss of the moon we faced a time of great uncertainty. Nobody knew for sure what effect its disappearance would have on everything, from the ebb and flow of the oceans’ tides to the rate at which the earth revolved. Still, she assured us that nature would adapt and survive, as would mankind.
Throughout each lesson that followed, we kept turning our attention to the window. Even the teachers couldn’t resist looking, despite the fact that there was nothing unusual to see.
Come dusk, as we made our way to our homes, stars began to prick the twilight. I kept looking up and around. I wasn’t sure what I was hoping to spot. The moon might have sailed through every night sky for billions of years, but sometimes clouds, tall buildings or trees conspired to cover it up. Everything just looked so normal up there, so peaceful and serene. I saw no smouldering remains or hole torn out of the heavens. Had I spent the day in my own company, without news or gossip, it would not have struck me that anything was different. Still, as an urgent breeze picked up all the litter in the streets, I couldn’t help feeling that perhaps we had taken things for granted.
“Come and sit with us, cupcake. There’s something we need to discuss.”
I had found my parents facing one another at the kitchen table. Like everyone, they appeared a little shell-shocked and bewildered. They looked up when I came into the room. As soon as my father invited me to join them, I realized I had just killed a conversation.
“What’s the latest on the moon?” I asked, noting the television switched on in the corner. The sound was muted, but the footage of the rockets climbing into the sky looked ominous.
“The moon?” My father paused and gazed at me. It left me feeling like I hadn’t returned home in years. “I’m not sure,” he said, and cleared his throat. “What did they tell you at school?”
I drew a chair from the table and sat with them. “The Russians are claiming a test firing went badly wrong. That’s what our form teacher told us before the bell rang. They’re suggesting the target coordinates were changed as an act of sabotage by the United States.”
Mum clasped her mug with both hands. Not once did she take her eyes off it. “The last time I looked at the moon,” she said, “it was on the wane.”
I glanced at Dad, confused by her comment. “Mum,” I said, “it isn’t coming back.”
Outside, the wind had strengthened so much that it began to moan and whistle. Only then did I notice that the curtains had been closed against the night sky. I looked at my dad, and found his focus upon me once again.
“This isn’t about the moon,” he said. “It’s about us.”
Until they told me Mum was moving out, I really hadn’t known that my parents had been having problems. As it turned out, I don’t think my dad had either. Sure, Mum would sometimes say that he loved his work more than he loved us, but we’d never taken her seriously. Looking back, I suppose this was her way of quietly convincing herself that the changes in her heart were for the best. I didn’t cry when Mum revealed that she’d met someone else. I just nodded when she promised me that everything would be OK, and stared at the table when Dad began to weep.
“I should go,” my mother said. “I would ask you to come with me, Lottie, but space is an issue and this is only for the very short term. Your father and I have a lot of sorting out to do, but we’ve agreed that you come first. Once we sell this house, we’ll have enough money to provide you with two places you can call home.”
“But I don’t want to move,” I said. “And I don’t want you to go.”
My mother rose from the table. She circled behind my father, touched his shoulder for a moment and then headed for the door. When she opened it, the howling I could hear out there sounded like another world entirely.
The first few nights were the worst. I suppose we had to get used to the loss and what it meant for us all. The winds struck at sunset and only calmed as dawn broke. In the darkest hours gusts would rampage across town and country with such violence that I couldn’t sleep. The experts explained how this was due to the absence of a gravitational pull. As I looked at the impact around me, it seemed more like the loss of a calming influence.