Ein Fenster mit Blick auf den Hügel

      I drove, no, rushed home, still feeling the taste of Lorna's lips on mine. She kissed me! There on the hill, lying on the grass! When she touched me, I forgot how to breathe or think, so vivid was the sensation. My body was on fire and my eyes were blurred with the world around me. My bike raced across the square and through the streets, causing people to recoil and yell at me. But it didn't matter. I arrived at my house, which was on the right bank of the river, rode into the courtyard and left my bike at the entrance. My father and I lived in a two-storey brick house painted a bedraggled peach colour and heavily ivy-covered on the garden side. It was in a small private section of high-wage citizens and was one of the oldest houses here. Once inside, I kicked off my shoes and headed for my room, when I was called by our gardener Hans, a sixty-year-old man with a clear and lively mind.       — Herr Stelmacher, you received a letter from your father about ten years ago. It is on the table in your room. I looked at the gardener in bewilderment. A letter from my father at this hour? There was a piece of paper on my desk, folded four times. I picked it up and began to read, recognising my father's confident and sprawling handwriting at once. "There's a conversation to be had. Come to my office. Room 206. Today at headquarters." ᧁüꪀ𝓽ꫀ𝘳 𝘴𝓽ꫀꪶꪑꪖꫝꫀ𝘳 I guess it's not my fate to touch the bed tonight. Sighing, I changed into casual clothes: simple mustard-coloured trousers, black boots, a white short-sleeved shirt and a warm grey waistcoat. The NSDAP headquarters was located at 45 BriennerStrasße, I sometimes drove past this three-storey Brown House Official party name for the headquarters, but never inside. There was also the Party Administration Building, where my father used to sit and do business. I've been in it, and I don't think I've ever seen a more boring building. Just offices with boring monochrome walls, on which there were some boards with information for party members and portraits of the most important people of the Third Reich. I arrived at my destination and went inside. The room was spacious and lit by the light of chandeliers, the parquet was oak and polished. Swastika flags hung between the windows. Nothing to do with the cramped Administration. Despite the late hour, there were people sitting somewhere, phones ringing. I asked the receptionist where the 206 office was and the obliging black-haired Party man told me the exact place–go up the central staircase to the first floor and turn left. He didn't ask a single question. I walked down the black cast-iron wrought-iron staircase, went through the ajar wooden doors and found myself in a corridor with offices. Finding the right one, I knocked. "Come in," was my reply. It was a large room, practically empty, except for a couple of chairs and a large desk littered with papers, government reports, copies of party meeting reports, and various political journals. A large red flag with a black cross hung on the window instead of curtains. At the table sat my father with a stern, almost rigid expression and furiously wrote something, vigorously dipping his pen in the inkwell and not paying attention to the fact that ink stains remained on the table, the paper and his hands. In his teeth he clenched his favourite cigar.       — Hello, Ralph. Have a seat. — He said, without stopping writing. I sat down in one of the chairs, not understanding the reason for the summons. My father looked up from his work, glanced at me, frowned and rubbed the bridge of his nose.       — We are losing this war. The Russian troops are tightening their defences. German soldiers are meeting fierce resistance. There are fears that we cannot win it. But that's just my speculation. I tensed up. I was frightened by these words. Our Germany, such a powerful country with a history of thousands of years of victories, could fall? It's not right. I've been told since childhood about her strength, power and influence, and what do I hear? It's losing! Is the Soviet Union really that strong?       — It's disturbing. — I said, imagining that soon our streets would be filled with Russian soldiers, and my familiar world would come to an end. The end of the Reich, the end of Hitler.       — That's why I called you here. Your country needs you in a time of need. It's time to become a man, Ralph. You once told me you wanted to become an SS soldier, I hope you haven't given up on your goal. I shook my head, and I realised what my father was getting at. I jumped up from my chair.       — Do you really want to send me to the front? Father, I'm not ready yet!       — No. Now's the time. The Hitler Youth teaches you how to use a gun, right? -An affirmative nod, -then you'll be able to fire a rifle with a steady hand.       — Dad, don't think I'm afraid, but...I'm not going to NAPOLA, you didn't want to put me there! If I join the Waffen-SS, I'll be a common private! Also, there's a...       — Leave her alone, son. You can't give her a decent life. Don't be fooled. Don't forget, you're the son of a Nazi and you're a Nazi yourself, and you're not going to be associated with an unclean race. Imagine we lost the war and the Soviets invade Münich. Do you think they'll be nice to you, ask you questions, take an interest in your lofty goals and ideals? No. In their illiterate eyes you are an enemy of the countries, of the world, they will not hesitate to fire a dozen lead bullets at you. Let's say you get away with it, so what? You'll be a scoundrel and a murderer in the eyes of the world and you'll be travelling around with this girl, living in constant fear of being caught. Is that the best life? Don't get your hopes up. After the summer, you'll have to forget about her. There's only war ahead. And don't worry about the rank, I'll arrange it. He was right, painful as it was to admit. I'm not the man to give Lorna the right to a happy and free life. I nodded to my father, agreeing with him.       — Okay. I'll go to SS, but I still have four more months to go. — I looked at my father-he was writing something again, — Please, that's all I have. He took his eyes off the papers, but he didn't stop writing.       — All right. Four months, no more. You can go now, I won't keep you. I said goodbye to him and stepped out into the cool and empty corridor. Not a living soul. Apparently, this place didn't know what it was like to be lively. I walked down the stairs and out into the street. Darkness, moon and cold-just like in a horror film, only it wasn't monsters, but police inspectors or the Gestapo. I got on my bike and rode away from the Brown House. Sleep wouldn't come to me. As soon as I started to fall asleep, I heard my father's voice: "It's time to become a man, Ralph". The next day, looking out the window, I saw a large number of clouds floating across the blue sky-variable cloudiness. Just right. If the beginning of May was warm, then the summer would be the same. I put on my uniform and went to the meeting place. For today we were going to listen to a speech by the important Oberführer Otto Meyer at the aforementioned headquarters. He was going to talk about Jews and Gypsies as if he had ever talked about anything else. The audience knew exactly what they were about to hear, but after all, usually few people object when they are supported in their beliefs. And Herr Meyer was in good form-his high, strong voice assured his listeners sincerely how noble we were, how rich we were, and how pure our German breed was. But everyone liked it much better when he touched on the subject of the parasitic non-parasitic peoples, their disgusting habits and the diseases they spread among the true Aryans. It was for the sake of this that everyone gathered to listen to Herr Meyer, and the hated subhumans seemed to materialise out of thin air-so colourfully did he describe them: inflamed eyes, rotten teeth, greasy tresses, fleshy noses, foul smell...The audience sat holding their breath and gasping with delight and horror. Then he roused the audience even more.       — Purity! — he cried out. — Purity...That which rightfully belongs to the Aryan girl, the most beautiful thing in the German rose, the holy temple of womanhood, her most sacred diamond-this purity has been raped! Torn to shreds! Robbed and desecrated by these lustful animals and by the depravity they sow everywhere! There's nothing that gets people's attention as much as talking about sex. It's always a win-win. Against the background of the flag, his speech was spectacular and doubly convincing, and he was applauded by everyone. I was watching, but not the speaker-I'd seen him many times before; I was watching the audience. After listening to one part of the speech, I looked round the audience: the burning eyes spoke volumes. I did not like this atmosphere of general frenzy which the speaker had so skilfully incited. In the back rows I noticed Bruno Dilley and Adler, Schultz, who had returned from NAPOLA, and waving to them, they noticed me and responded to my greeting. I couldn't listen to Meyer any further, squirming in my chair, I was impatient to talk to them over a mug of beer and a cigarette in my mouth. I hadn't seen them for so long! Again the applause and cheers, I had to admit-he was good at convincing people. Two hours later we were standing at the entrance smoking like locomotives, talking about today's meeting and cracking jokes.       — He had a nose that even the ugliest Jew couldn't match. We laughed, joked, enjoyed each other. Everything was wonderful.       — Bruno, where have you been all this time?       — Well, — he scratched the back of his head, —I had things to do. I'm joining the Luftwaffe in August, like I wanted. My parents say that the situation is heating up and we need to join the army. — He sighed. Honestly, I wish it would stop. My mate died at the front recently...they sent a letter yesterday. "War spares no one. "It takes everyone indiscriminately," I thought.       — I'm joining the SS, only a month later, — I said, — we'll keep in touch. Dilley smiled sadly, threw his cigarette butt on the ground, stomped his shoe, and looked thoughtfully into the distance.       — And you, Adler, what troops have you decided on?       — I'm too young to join the SA, but I'll join the SS. I'll be with Ralph, I won't live to be old. The realisation of those words weighed heavily on the three of us. None of us could live long. None of us.       — You know, — Bruno began, — nothing lasts forever. A carefree life without worries is no exception. Everything comes to an end sooner or later. And the war will subside, I'm sure. We'll be dead, and what does anyone care about us? Three less people, that's all. Growing up, children always go away and don't hear from each other for a long time, but...there always comes that moment when they are grown up and don't expect a meeting, but it happens, and they can't guess when. I agree with my friend. He of all people could see things with amazing insight. It's better to die a hero than to sit back and wait for your time. What's the point of being a hero in war?       — I probably won't live to be twenty. - Adler Schultz said. None of us will ever know the delights of a quiet family life. That's what I've always thought.       — All right. There's no point in burying ourselves before our time. Let's go to the lake and freshen up. Well done. Thanks to the higher powers who sent Adler, who knew how to lighten the mood. We agreed and streamed across Münich to the lake. The sun was shining, sometimes hiding behind clouds, there were many people in the streets. After having a mug of beer in one of the many beer houses, we continued on our way, trying not to broach the subject of our involvement in the war and our imminent separation. Adler hummed songs like "Erika" and made us laugh with his jokes. We reached the lake, touched the warm water, stripped down to our underwear and jumped into the pond. At first it was cold, but then we got used to it and were already splashing and splashing each other.       — Let's have a race! — I suggested, — Whoever swims to the other side the fastest, Bruno buys a big cherry pie!       — Hey! Why me first?       — Because you always have money in your pocket, — Schultz laughed, — and more than anyone else.       — I don't agree! Let Ralph pay for it!       — Not today! I jumped on my friend and threw him into the water, Adler followed. Then Bruno put him on his neck and started to walk on the bottom, but he slipped, lost his balance and fell with a loud splash.              — Fucking cocksucker! — Adler yelled. I laughed so long that my stomach hurt. A flock of girls walked past us, looking at us curiously and catty. Dilley smiled and winked at them, and Schultz tensed up, showing off his muscles. The girls giggled, and one waved her hand. I rolled my eyes and wiggled my eyebrows to avoid looking like a white sheep. One of them gasped. But that was the end of it. They left, whispering, looking back at us and giggling. And we were finally able to compete. It was six rounds. I won twice, Bruno once, and Adler the other three because he was the best swimmer. I had to admit, with a heavy heart, that I'd buy a pie. Then we fooled around for a long time. We jumped from a bent tree trunk into the water as if it were a tower, climbed on rocks and parodied the Führer's speech, competed to see who could stay under water the longest (Bruno won this time, I got second place), threw our knives at a lying log, and just had fun. Before it was too late.