The Shadow of War by Jack Murray (read this if TXT) 📕

appear inthe village street in groups. The boys soon forgot about their fears and joinedthem in the dance that has existed since the beginning of time. Some of the girlscame over and joined Danny’s group sitting in the middle of the village. Soonthe steps of the Great War memorial listing all those who had died in theprevious conflict were covered with young people. The memorial had been erectedat Henry Cavendish’s wish and expense.

‘What will you do now?’ askedMargaret Desmond, the sister of Ben who was now working at the forge.

Hugh and Tom turned to Danny,now the unofficial spokesman for the group. He told them what he had told therest earlier. Another asked when they would be leaving for the fight.

‘After I marry you, gorgeous,’came the reply from Hugh. This brought a host of jeers from the girls. But themood had been lightened and the comments took on a more risqué nature as theyoung people of the village chased away the dark thoughts of war.

In its place came a moreintense focus on the things that mattered to them. Driven by the fear for thefuture, friendships deepened between the girls and the boys. Thoughts andfeelings, once undeclared, became common currency that night. The air becamesweeter, and colours more vivid as all developed an appreciation for a lifethat once had been taken for granted.

Sitting apart from this wasDanny. His thoughts were elsewhere. A few of the girls tried to engage him inconversation but gave up and sought solace and company with other more willingboys. As the evening light was replaced by darkness the centre of the villagebecame quiet again.

For all his comments about thetime it would take before the call ups began, Danny returned to the certaintythat it was when and not if. Like his father, he would answer the call,fearfully but willingly. It was no more or less than what his country wouldexpect. It was what other young men would do. What his father had done. Thismade things explicit. The consequences of the wireless broadcast were all tooapparent, the cost incalculable, the outcome unknowable.

Danny trudged back to the houseknowing his world was going change. He had no power to direct its course. Hecould only to respond to its prompt. This, more than any sense of fear, waswhat he hated: the inscrutable uncertainty of war.

Chapter 4: Germany 1938 - 39

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Ladenburg (nr. Heidelberg): ChristmasEve 1938

 

The church hall was full ofsong and a lifeforce so strong it seemed the place would explode with theenergy within. Manfred and Erich were now the group leaders of the villageHitler Youth group. They sat in front of the boys leading the singing ‘EsZittern die Morschen Knochen’ (The Rotten Bones are Trembling).

Trembling are the rotten bones

Of the world before the RedWar.

We smashed the terror,

For us it was a great victory.

 

We will march on

Even when everything falls inshards,

For today Germany is listeningto us

And tomorrow the whole world.

 

Manfredcould see tears in the eyes of some of the children. They sang with passion,with volume and with their hearts. There was little beauty in the noise theymade. Instead, the music was more primeval. It seemed to emanate not just fromthe souls of the young people but also from the core of the building.

Allof the boys were dressed in a similar uniform: khaki shirts and black scarf.This group now included children as young as ten, members of a separate group DeutschesJungvolk in der Hitler Jugend (German Youngsters in the Hitler Youth).

Thegroup of boys marched out into the street singing, led by Manfred and Erich,holding a large flag emblazoned with a swastika. Manfred could see his fatherwatching the procession. He had reluctantly ordered the policemen to stop thetraffic in order to let the boys pass. Father and son looked at one another.Manfred felt almost drunk with power. He gave his father a brief nod as hepassed him. His father’s face was unreadable.

Snowfluttered lazily onto their faces as they marched. The pavements were blanketedby snow and the chill cut the faces of the boys as they marched through thetown singing Nazi marching songs; their hearts, as much as the drums, beat thepace of their march.

Afew women made attempts at saluting, but Manfred could see their hearts weren’tin it. This made him angry. He stopped the boys in the middle of the street,holding up the traffic behind. For a minute they marched on the spot and thenhe moved them forward again towards the market Platz.

Allaround them, the shops were decorated for Christmas. In the market Platz,alongside the war memorial, stood a very tallChristmas tree. The marchers stopped by the Christmas tree and sang the ‘HorstWeisel Lied’ (The song of Horst Weisel), a song dedicated to the memory ofa Nazi murdered by a communist. When the song finished, they applaudedtheir own efforts. Erich stood up and addressed his audience.

‘Ithink maybe it is time that we,’ he paused for effect. Then with a wide grin hesaid, ‘…have a snowball fight.’ In a flash, he bent down, scooped up a handfulof snow, compressed it with his other hand and threw it at Manfred.

This was greeted with loudcheers. Moments later, Manfred was hit on the side of the head by another snowball.Ice flowed down the side of his face like an open wound. He roared in laughterand set about avenging himself on the culprit. Snowballs whistled past him andhe felt the melted snow trickle down the back of his neck. He compressed thesnow together in his hand, the cold stinging his hands and let fly. Anothersnowball hit him and then another. He was a natural target for the small boys,and they were now liberally pelting him, emboldened by a fire within. Snowcrunched under Manfred’s boots as he sought cover, realising he was hopelesslyoutgunned.

Passers-by joined in thesnowball fight and soon battle lines were drawn between young and old. Erichstayed with the young boys, but Manfred led counter attacks by the adults. Theeffort was telling on Manfred. His breath came out in white puffs, his heartbeat fast and the cold of the snow chilled his fingers so much they could hardlybend.

The