Steelie 15

The muffled rumble of trains arriving and departing, the continued hiss of steam escaping from locomotives follow them. Echoing announcements reverberate through the station’s vast hall and beyond. Von Stehle tries to be careful with the boy. His wide, frightened eye, his reluctance to speak or make eye contact gives him time to think. Crisp snow crunching softly under their footsteps. In places, where the snow had been trodden turned yellow and to slush, making their progress slightly more cumbersome, he becomes aware of his own sturdy leather boots and the boy’s flimsy footwear with cardboard soles.

Mole feels the comforting presence of his gloved hand on his shoulder. A lightening in his steps. But the darkness of not knowing what happened to his family or where he is going slows him. He flinches, falls a step behind the Baron. A twitch and shiver runs through his body. The lightness of snow rising to meet him as his legs gives way. He stumbles and falls but he doesn’t feel the cold, only the humiliation.

The Baron picks him up and hugs him close to his chest. He squirms and squeals to get away, to be put down. Von Stehle smells of hard soaps, tobacco and a whiff of cologne. He rocks him and shushes him as if he’s a child, chatters loudly in his ear to reassure him. ‘You’ll meet my manservant later,’ he tells him. ‘Admittedly, Krummer Willi is a bit Cockeyed. He’s a quick study. Not up to much. And a terrible cook. But I wouldn’t like you to confuse him with that crook, our Kaiser Wilhelm II. Although there are similarities, he is a bit stupid. But his injuries are more honourable—from the Great War.’

His breathing grows ragged as puffy clouds. The lights from the stores, restaurants and newspaper kiosks flicker like candles. He is forced to rest and to put Mole down, but pats his chest and kneels one-legged beside him and shelters him with his greatcoat. ‘As you now know some people like you don’t even get a second chance. Or even a first chance. There are few moments when your life has passed and you cannot see it because of a kind of spinelessness that shrivels your soul and leaves you blind. Other times your life becomes your own.’

He grips Mole’s hand and jerks his body along in a forced march but slows just as quickly to a staggered crawl. ‘Come, we need food. Food to sustain us.’ He stops and leans on Mole’s shoulder and searches his face. ‘There’s no escape from the past. Especially in the darkness of the present. I too had no existence. Was effaced.  Krummer Willi dug me out of my grave. A hole in the ground. And placed me in a muddy trench with the other dead. Every death is an intimacy and leaves a scar, especially when death is unconsummated.’

He points up at the sky. ‘Looking up at the moon, its touch was upon me in the snow- covered fields. Distant trees were like love letter ready to meet my gaze when I sat up. The fragility of chance had told me about the certainty of fate.’

Other pedestrians hurried past, their heads bowed against the winter chill. Some daring to risk glancing at them. The smell of coal smoke, a constant companion in the winter air with a hint of frost, lingered around them as they passed with cold faces.

‘Krummer Willi wiped dirt from my face and passed me a bottle of brandy he’d rescued from the officer’s dugout. He hadn’t been searching for bodies. As I spluttered and choked on the strong spirits, he’d laughed heartily like a man that hadn’t heard a joke in a very long time.’

Baron von Stehle’s eyes grew tearful and his Adam’s apple bobbled as his voice grew thick. ‘For another man to see me weep like a boat taking in water, creaking, groaning and going under in its own regrets.’ He gulped and took in fistfuls of air. ‘Bodies coloured by mud. Eternal mud and eternal war. The whole country one long grave filled with dead soldiers. I’ll never forget his laughing and me crying.’

The muffled sounds of a man leading a horse, made them smile. The rhythmic crunch of hoofs on the snow. He dipped his hat towards the Baron and looked incuriously at Mole, more concerned with keeping the horse moving and not slipping.

Far from the station they got lucky. They pass a gnarled old man with one arm, a street vendor, roasting chestnuts over an open brazier. The warm, nutty aroma cutting through the cold and mingling with the scent of coal smoke is an invitation von Stehle can’t resist.

He buys two small bags and chats about The Great War with the old soldier with a familiar contempt.

Mole hesitates before taking it, cupping it in his hands for warmth before peeling away the shell and devouring the soft meaty flesh inside. When the old soldier mentions Hitler’s name, the Baron cuts short their conversation.

They reach the curb at the next corner when a man lurches from the doorway of a beer hall, nearly colliding with them. His black SS uniform. The Totenkopf, death-head insignia, askew on his head, glints in the dull streetlamp. He reeks of schnapps, his breath hot and thick in the cold air.

‘Herr Baron!’ The officer slurrs blinking as if struggling to focus. ‘What’s this, then von Stehle? Picking up street rats? I didn’t think they were your type.’

Von Stehle smiles and leans forward, their foreheads almost touching. ‘You’ve got such a dirty mind. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.’

The SS man leans in, eyes narrowing. Mole trembles and makes ready to run, but the officer is armed with a Luger. Von Stehle squeezes his shoulder reassuringly. ‘Scrawny, isn’t he?’ the officer said, swaying. ‘Hope you’re not going soft on us, Baron.’ He waves an arm. ‘Come inside and have a drink.’

‘On the contrary,’ Von Stehle said smoothly, slapping him on the back. ‘Discipline builds strong men and a stronger Deutschland and I’ve got work to do.’

The SS man grunts and stumbles away.

Von Stehle guides Mole swiftly down the street, going in the other direction and not speaking until the station noises fade away.

Mole’s exhaustion became apparent after only a few blocks. His steps slow again, his legs wobble. Von Stehle doesn’t hesitate, lifting him into his arms. ‘Soon be home, little Mole,’ he says.