Gunter

                                                      Gunter

 

                           By Richard Geneva

 

 

I was thinking of Gunter Grass only today. I don't know what prompted me to think of him. I suppose it was just the fact that he was such an intelligent and entertaining man in a period of our country's history when such things got frowned upon, and he was fearless.

 

I remember now, we were in Berlin together in the spring of 1938, and the army had just marched into Austria and declared "Anschluss" incorporating the country into a Greater Germany.

 

Gunter was saying, "...that will not bode well for the Jews. I have no doubt they will be among the first to suffer" waving his arm around he continued, "You only have to look at Germany today to understand what I mean, already the concentration camp at Dachau is brimming over with those poor unfortunates who dared to stand up to the Party. And of course, the Jews, as well."

 

I replied, "It is indeed a sad state of affairs, but what are we to do? What can we do? The merest hint of dissent shown by anybody gets reported by the rogues in the pay of the government, and now Hitler is Fuhrer what opportunity do we have?"

 

It did indeed look a very dark and despairing future for most of the Germans with Jewish blood.

 

Gunter and I were walking down by the Brandenburg Gate in early April. Already the street lighting had been turned on. Trams were trundling by on their metal rails taking workers to the Messerschmitt factory on the outskirts of Berlin. Some of them were singing party songs. I cannot recall the words entirely, but I do remember thinking about how naive it seemed. The men singing were young and healthy and loud in their manner. They were full of what the future held for Germany. Its struggle to secure a place in the world beyond its borders. The song was saying they must be made of steel and crush all those who do not wish to fight. They must be triumphant in their struggle; they must be valiant in their cause and let no one dare take them away from that confrontation. And so, the tram went off into the gathering dusk their voices echoing off the tall buildings and once more the street returned to silence.

 

Very few places were safe. It seemed that out of the woodwork, a vast army of bullies dressed in brown shirts stood on nearly every street corner waiting for Jews. They loved to bait us. Goad us into such humiliating situations hoping that we would respond so that they could kick us or beat us once more.

 

By 1938 they had made us wear the Star of David on our lapels at all times. Our doors also had to be painted with the Star of David signifying to others in the neighbourhood that we were Jews. It meant that any person or group who took it upon themselves, could kick at our doors, break our windows, spit on our children, burn our Synagogues, and despise our religion. All professional Jewish people got removed from office.

 

Jewish shops and businesses were taken over by the Nazis. Jewish children got removed from all schools. Jewish students who had given so many well-educated people to the country were no longer allowed to train. Our graveyards were not left alone. They desecrated the headstones, painted slogans on them calling for our deaths.  Even those who had got killed in the First World War defending the Fatherland had their graves defecated on and in every direction, we looked, there was no one to assist, nowhere to go.

 

Both of us had lived all of our lives in Germany. Our fathers and grandfathers had also lived all of their lives in Germany. There was nothing that our families or we could do to stop the insanity and hatred of the Nazis. Already we were becoming hungry. Already we were starting to sink to our knees. Storm Troopers would come in the early hours of the morning and arrest those Jews under suspicion of harbouring feelings contrary to the Party line. Most of them were never seen again.

 

It was impossible to prove anything in those days if you were Jewish, nobody would listen. And those Berliner's who showed any kindness to us were carted off to the concentration camps. The smell of fear ran through the streets. All mail got censored. Telephone conversations got listened to; curfews got imposed in the Jewish districts of the city. They were daily reports of brutality, intimidation and the sexual abuse of our women.

 

In Berlin, the regime imposed by Heydrich was very severe. I remember Helmut Bernstein who lived in my block; he was a seventy-four-year-old man in a wheelchair who was made to get on his hands and knees by a group of Hitler's 'finest' and crawl home while they racially abused him and broke his ribs.

 

We turned the corner into Ballusplatz and ran directly into a group of Rohm's SA. On seeing us, they came running over, there was about twenty of them.

           "So, what do we have here then?" he pointed to a young brownshirt who stood by. He chirped up, "All I see is vermin, Herr Major!"

           "And what do we do with vermin Private 1st Class?"

           "We treat vermin sir with the contempt it deserves."

            "Well!"

I got punched in the face, ordered to get on my knees, and my nose was broken and gushing blood. But Gunter stood there defiant. He held his arms up.

              "Gentlemen, please!" he was saying, "Not so rough I am a poor comedian who is here to make you laugh." He was chattering. "I will entertain you; please stop pushing. I have worked in all the beer halls of Germany, from Munich to Cologne." 

I knew he was lying.

               "I have made them laugh from Prussia to Saxony, and that takes some doing." He winked at them, and they seemed to stop, completely taken aback by his antics.

                "So, you are a comedian, then are you?" said the rough-looking Major, "Because you will have to be a good comedian to make me laugh" he gestured to his fellow troops gathered around.

                "If you make us all laugh, I will spare both you and your friend the humiliation of licking the dog shit from my boots."

He looked deeply into Gunter's eyes.

                "However, Herr comedian, if you fail to raise even a small titter then I will shoot you here and now."

                 "Yes, but Herr Major I need your approval to organise your men into some audience. I need them to use their imaginations, of which I'm certain they have. So please gentlemen if you could sit on the wall and I will perform here."

 

The Major removed his pistol from its holster and pointed at Gunter. Gunter forced a smile. "It is okay Herr Major I will not try to run away." He bowed. "Please..."

 

The SA sat on the wall staring at him. Their faces were full of contempt at having been denied their spoils for the time being. Gunter stood about twenty feet away. He then went through the exaggerated motions of walking onto a pretend stage. He looked solemn.

 

He stood there for a moment in silence. The troops were also silent observing. The setting sun came out from behind a dark cloud and momentarily bathed the street corner in fading light. I was still on my knees, praying for him. Praying that this scientist friend of mine who was never known mainly for his wit could produce something to make these miserable, sour-faced bastards at least smile. I was thinking, Oh God! Oh God, please!

 

Suddenly and without warning, Gunter gave a Nazi salute. He said nothing and just stood there at attention with his right arm horizontally in front of him and stared at them, his black locks hanging down either side from under his skull cap. They looked back, and still, he said nothing. They began to become uneasy. The Major stood up off the wall and returned the Hitler salute, saying nothing. All the other troops on seeing their Major's response shuffled gradually to their feet and replacing their hats; they also stood in tribute. They must have thought that this is what he did before each performance.

 

So, there they were in a line down the side of the street. All the troops with their arms stuck out facing Gunter and all of them stood in silence, just looking at him and each other with a kind of puzzlement. I could hear the wind blowing through the treetops above my head. It sounded like the rushing noise that the sea makes when it comes ashore over the shingle.

 

I could hear Gunter's voice, he was looking at them his arm outstretched and he was saying,

               "Last winter in Heidelberg, the snow was this deep."

 

A shot rang out, and he was dead before he hit the pavement.