Sunlit oak tree

1935 The squelching puddles underfoot did not bother Augustine at all. He took detours to get to work because his car unexpectedly broke down this morning. Cursing to himself, he walked around the streams and the remaining snow that wanted to wet his leather boots. It was an early, slushy spring, and this also did not brighten his mood. The work he chose at the beginning of 1933 bore fruit: Augustine was paid a good salary and given social privileges, which, without a doubt, worked to his advantage. Winter dragged on this year and, in theory, should have left them by now, but in some places a cold breeze still slipped through, and the puddles froze overnight in small islands. The austere gray building, reminiscent of a temple of death, permeated the neighborhoods around it with its oppressive atmosphere. People, drawn to him like ants, entered the large wooden doors in orderly rows and disappeared there until the evening, locking themselves in their tiny offices. Without remorse, lured by good salaries and party approval, they helped the state dictate and impose its values. As soon as Augustine entered the office, his subordinates immediately attacked him with redone reports, completed documentation and suggestions for today’s summary. Augustine, actively commenting on the go, spoke flatteringly about their work, catching a flow of information from several sources at once. — Yes, you did it well. — The man ran his eyes. — No, redo this, it’s terrible! And today put it on my table. — Augustine’s stern voice succinctly conveyed information to his subordinates. “Are you a little crazy or have you forgotten who is in front of you if you’re handing this over to me?” I don’t have ten hands, where are you pushing this to me?! — he answered angrily when one of the privates gave him the altered report. Augustine only heard the annoying “sorry” addressed to him, noise and commotion arose around him, everyone wanted to get an assessment of their work — the crowd continued to surround Augustine all the way to his office; his fellow officers only looked after him sympathetically; Augustine only had time to note as he walked the appearance of his subordinates and their manners, which were not always exemplary. At such moments, he recalled how he once came to see Wilhelm, who, in the same way, sitting at his desk, was trying to sort things out. Then Augustine realized that he no longer had any options to build a good career, and with the help of Wilhelm, he was sent to a good position by recommendation. He quickly became the head of the department and was well established in this position, not wanting to go further, because he understood that there was a balance: if you go higher, they will ask more of you, and you will have to answer with your own head; if lower, they will remove it like a bipod after the first failure; if you are in the middle, then they will still think about whether to remove you or not, and it will not be your head that will fly if something happens. Having reached the office, Augustine angrily slammed the door and sat down in the chair. It was necessary to resolve the issues that had accumulated since the weekend, even though he had sat up all night doing paperwork. Alex invited him for a beer, but in the end they stayed too long, and his friend had to be taken to the other end of the city instead of finishing the accumulated work. Damn it, this car also broke down, and the grandmother who was passing in the taxi got out of it so slowly, blocking the road, that Augustine thought that he would definitely be late. The light seeped in slowly, in a trickle, through the curtains; If you looked closely, you could see dust in the air. He took off his coat and began to quickly rub his palms to warm them: it was cold in the office — again at night the heating was poor or not heated at all. Augustine glanced at his watch — it was about eight, it would start now. Boring, monotonous conversation, conditions, short deadlines. He closed his eyes. Augustine had not slept well for a long time. He took out from the diplomat a report on the cleared neighborhoods and documents that showed how many communists remained in Berlin. His work was more like paper work: he kept statistics, counted, and, locking himself in his office, did not see everything that was actually happening. Or did he not care about it? Life had changed a lot, and he was glad that Wilhelm was able to help him with a letter of recommendation, and at first Anna and he helped him get used to it. Yes, they were wonderful people, and now they lived in the north of the country, having left Berlin. The parents have been kept in a mental hospital since the trial. Augustine was relieved by the thought that they would be locked there for the rest of their days. He replayed the events of past years in his head many times — Maybe he was too harsh or too rude with them? But no, every time he came to the conclusion that this was not so, and he did the right thing. The meeting was boring and uninteresting. Augustine looked at the crowds of his colleagues, and they looked at him. There was nothing to do — at least it seemed so to Augustine. He remembered that the head of the second department, with whom he knew from work, had a boy of the same age as Hume, and they went to the same school. He dreamed of the buns that Agnes sometimes bakes for him when he comes to visit her after a hard day at work. Augustine finally remembered that he had not had breakfast. Julius, a workmate sitting next to him, heard the rumbling from his stomach and whispered in his ear: — Have you forgotten about food again? — he said, looking sarcastically and smiling with all thirty-two teeth. — Yes Yes. And you laugh about it again. — No, I’m just surprised every time how you don’t obey your body, and it doesn’t obey you. — It’s a long story. Julius waved his hand. This was unfamiliar to him: he really loved to eat to his heart’s content. In comparison with Augustine — slender and even a little thin — Julius was from a peasant family and grew up well-fed, eating butter and lard. Augustine rubbed his eyes. Only at the end did he make his report, and the elder called out to him when everyone was already leaving. Augustine approached carefully, feeling how everything inside was shrinking. His instincts told him that nothing good would come of this, but, as they say, change either comes to you, or, if you don’t want to wait for it, it will force you to come to it. — Hauptscharführer, do you know that your superiors are now changing? — the officer looked at the confused Augustine. — No, apparently they haven’t managed to convey this to me yet. The officer mockingly gave Augustine an icy look. — So know this — today at noon the new Standartenführer Arthur Eisenberg will arrive, you need to meet him and bring him up to date. Augustine raised his eyebrows slightly. — Why me, and not the superior? The officer snapped his fingers. — Because the higher-ups are leaving today. Don’t embarrass yourself, or your head will fly off your shoulders, free. Augustine turned and left the office, his heels clicking along the corridor. Something was wrong; the colonel couldn’t just come to them. Maybe an urgent reorganization of the department and detachment? Augustine, going into his room, began to analyze the situation, but, not finding anything to which he could cling, he realized that there was no need to build complex schemes, and dialed the number of one of his subordinates. A minute or two later, Ostman came to him, a man who is mainly involved in the demotion of officers. “Why did you call me, Hauptscharführer?” — Find me a certain Colonel Arthur Eisenberg. — Why do you need him? — Augustine realized why he asked about this. “I want to understand who is coming to us.” Ostman turned around and walked away, and Augustine got to work. Ostman was not a bad person, but he was a very slippery fish. He had worked for a lot of people before and constantly muddied the waters with his biography, and no one really knew his story. Everyone in this building had one interesting feature: everyone had a very dark past, and no one knew the whole truth about them, so when someone new came — especially from the authorities — it meant something evil. Everyone immediately became wary, knowing full well that new management would necessarily mean new dismissals or exorbitant, illogical demands. *** Augustine met Arthur, a short man of forty with barely noticeable wrinkles. He greeted him as usual and led Arthur into his office, where he settled down. However, on the way out, the Standartenführer stopped him. — Tell everyone that I want to listen to today’s reports and how things are going. “Today’s reports are on your desk, Standartenführer.” “Augustine immediately realized that he was facing a stubborn sheep and that it was clearly worth waiting for changes. “And I want to listen to how your people tell you information.” You are the one who is responsible for our analysis, right? — Arthur burned through Augustine. — Of course, I will tell my people so that in five to seven minutes everyone will be in the hall. — At this point the conversation was over, and Augustine left the office *** “Our priority tasks now are to clean up the neighborhoods in the southwest and southeast of the city. At this stage, we have cleared… — Augustine listened to the report for an hour, sitting next to the colonel. And all the time Eisenberg had questions, he clarified and clarified; Augustine’s subordinates looked in bewilderment and with a prayer for their boss to save them. The Standartenführer turned out to be a man searching for the truth, but he dug in the wrong places, he slowed down where the information was true, and dug where there was nothing dark. Augustine rolled his eyes; It will be hard with him, very hard. A stubborn and difficult person who changes his mind every five minutes. After the report, they talked face to face in the colonel’s office. — Hauptscharführer, your people are working poorly and your actions are ineffective. You understand why they sent me here, right? “His cold voice had no effect on Augustine. — Yes, I understand, Standartenführer, but our department is recognized as the best. Besides, don’t jump to conclusions: if we didn’t work well, we would be removed before your appointment. And do not forget that I am responsible for the analysis and collection of information and for conveying this summary to the authorities, and what information they bring to us — you need to ask other departments,” Augustine watched as Eisenberg was infuriated by his words, “ but this is no reason to relax. If that’s all, can I go? — No you can not. Don’t worry, Augustine, I’ll get to the others, I just started with you. I’m not accusing you of anything, I’m just saying that you, as a final department, need to demand more information, facts and more, your reports are very poor. “But we don’t have water.” — Augustine was ready to win back his department, but Arthur quickly surrendered. “Bring me some coffee,” Arthur said irritably. This impudent Augustine still dares to say anything to him in response? “I will give orders,” Augustine ended their conversation and left, clenching his fists with great force. Damn Eisenberg. Augustine exhaled and glanced at his watch—it was approaching evening. He lost the whole day because of his superiors, what a shame. Yum and Yunna stayed with Agnes and Alexander today, so today he didn’t have to rush home. How is Ostman, did you find out anything? He looked in, quietly knocked on the door with his fist and received a positive answer. — Did you find out anything? The man casually handed him a thin folder. Augustine opened it and read it briefly. He studied in France, served there in the preparatory troops, tried to enter the naval academy, but did not pass due to his fragile health and entered the architectural university, from where he was expelled due to drunkenness. — And it’s all? — Yes, that’s all. — Ostman further buried himself in the file cabinet, and Augustine walked away, thanking him. As Augustine suspected, something is fishy here. And somehow his dossier doesn’t look very truthful, maybe it’s fake? *** The quiet evening passed as usual. Until twelve o’clock Alex and Augustine discussed agrarian reform, new debilitating taxes and official matters. Agnes did not interfere with their conversation — she put away the washed dishes and put on the kettle. Alex had changed a lot since he and Agnes became engaged: he constantly talked about work and took a lot of overtime, got along well with the younger ones and was very interested in politics and business. Alex complained about his boss, Augustine supported him in this. Alex worked in the same field as Augustine, just in a different department. - What are you talking about, Alex, you have no idea what they sent us! — Augustine was indignant. — Arthur Eisenberg, Standartenführer, not only did he simply drive my people, but in the end he expressed his empty opinion to me. — Arthur Eisenberg? — Alex stood up in surprise. “Is this really the same one who was removed from the air force?” He then left in great disgrace. — Augustine moved closer to Alex. — Wait, do you know about him? Alex, sipping from a mug of hot tea, nods. — Yes, I know, a lot of people know about him. — Augustine is silent, as if asking for clarification. “He began his career in the Air Force, was an excellent pilot, he was predicted to become a colonel, but was kicked out in disgrace after it turned out that he, being an inveterate womanizer, had knocked up the daughter of one of the generals and refused to marry her. He, without thinking twice, immediately removed him from there, and few people heard about him anymore, but now you can see where he went. Augustine whistled. — Wait, I know that he was kicked out of the university and grew up in France, which is also strange, and then he tried to enter the naval academy, but was unable to because of his health. “Yes, he’s been around a lot, and no one knows anything about his childhood, they say he’s half French,” Alex said with a chuckle in his voice. “And now such a moral monster is my boss, you can’t say anything…” Alex tried to cheer up his friend, but he just waved him off. Alex attached little importance to his story, but Augustine thought seriously. Agnes would also not say that you should pay attention to this, besides, bosses always change and there is nothing more fickle than people.