Sleeping in Flame

"Benedikt!"

"Yes, sir!" My palms were flat down in the dirt. I could feel the warmth of the earth through them. We'd been walking all day, and the warmth which had felt so good in the early morning was no longer friendly by three o'clock. All our uniforms were sweated through; we smelled hot, rank, and bitter. Marching, the rucksack I carried felt like a bag of cement against my back. I wanted to throw my rifle away and never pick it up again. Never shoot it, never carry it, never see it. What I had seen that day made me tired of everything, including myself.

I wanted to go home. I wanted to sit in the Cafй Central and read the Vie

But I wasn't home. I was a German soldier in southern France in the middle of a war that meant nothing to me. Every day we marched from one small village to the next, scaring these quiet farmers for no reason other than malice. If they gave us trouble, we shot them.

That morning someone shot back. We were standing in the middle of a country road, waiting for our lieutenant to finish pissing, when we heard that high skak of a faraway rifle shot. A fat chip flew off a stone wall nearby, along with the ping of the ricochet. The entire troop went down and started firing everywhere at random.

An a

"Benedikt, take two men and go down to the school. Get that Jew teacher and whatever kids there who are Jewish. Take all of them to the mairie. Make sure to get all the Jews, so if anyone checks, we'll be okay. We'll meet you there in an hour. The trucks should be here by then to take them. And be careful! Whoever shot at us is still around, and I'm sure he's got friends. These people are going to shit when they see their neighbors get trucked out of here."

"Lieutenant, the kids, too? Can't we just say –"

He looked at me coldly. "No. Do you want to ask headquarters that question? I don't. Do you think those assholes give a shit if it's a little Jew or a big one? Especially after this morning?

"Benedikt, I want to go home when this war is over. I also want to have all my arms and legs when I get there. I don't give a shit who wins. As long as they leave me alone, I'll get their Jews and shove them on trucks and even wave good-bye when they drive off. You know that couple Korbei killed this morning? It made me sad, but not as sad as if that sniper had shot me and I couldn't fuck, or walk, or see, or live anymore. That would make me sad! So we'll all follow orders while I'm in command.

"Today's new orders are to get the Jews in that school and bring them to the mairie. You want to talk some more about it? Too bad, because I don't. Finished. Go to the school and be nice to those kids when you get them. Get going."

I had no idea where they would take the Jews after we brought them in. We'd seen kilometer-long freight trains in the railroad yards at both Avignon and Carpentras, but were they for these people? I knew they were sending Jews to work camps in some parts of Europe, but did that mean all of the Jews in Europe? We'd also heard terrible, unbelievable rumors about what went on in those camps, but who knew if they were true? There was too much propaganda about everything these days. You never knew what to believe, or whose word to trust. Everyone had a story, even the stupidest person had "just heard something incredible." At first, we believed everything because everything was possible then, but now it went the other way – believe nothing until it happened or you saw it for yourself. Besides, there was too much to think about right where we were, especially now that these French farmers had begun shooting back at us.

I took Peter and Haider with me because they were smart old-timers who didn't need to be told to think before acting. If something bad happened while we were at the school, they would at least react coolly.

As we walked down the hill out of town, I thought of my father in Vie

He also said it was so hard getting good shaving material now that he'd decided to grow a beard and see how it looked. He knew people would laugh at a midget with a beard, but my father had been laughed and pointed at all of his life, so it made no difference to him what the world thought.

What would he say when I told him about what had happened with Elisabeth? How he disliked her! He disliked any girlfriend I had, but Elisabeth was truly his enemy. He had tried every trick he had to undermine our relationship, but she saw through them all and ended up laughing in his small face. He was nothing to her except the father of the man she wanted to marry. She didn't even bother to laugh or be shocked by his size. Maybe that was the greatest affront to him: her indifference to his freakishness. She wasn't kind or pitying about it, nor did she overlook it. It simply was, but since she didn't care about him, she didn't care about it either.

"There's the school."

Haider unslung his rifle and began loading it as we walked. Peter adjusted his rucksack.

"How do you want to do this?"

"I don't know yet. Let's talk to the schoolteacher first."

"You think he's going to help us? You're crazy."

"Let's just see."

The school was low and. made of stone. As we approached, we heard children singing inside. Their voices were all sweet and high and happy. The three of us exchanged looks.

"That fucking lieutenant! Why'd he send us to do this? The teacher is one thing, but little kids? I don't care if they're Jews. Listen to that! They're little kids."

The veins stood out in Peter's neck and his face was tomato red when he said it.

"How do you know it wasn't a kid who shot at us this morning?"

"Don't be an asshole, Haider. You know what they're going to do with these kids. You saw all those empty trains in Avignon. My brother lives in Linz. He told me they've got one of those camps out in Mauthausen. There's a stone quarry there a couple of hundred feet high. They set them to work cutting rock. If they mess up, the guards throw them off the top of the quarry. You don't think they do that to kids, too? The lieutenant was right about one thing – those assholes in Berlin don't care what kind of Jew it is – little or big. They kill them all the same."

I looked at him. "You don't know that for sure. I never heard about a camp in Mauthausen."