The Willow Wren by Philipp Schott (free ebook reader for iphone txt) 📕

gangster has died! You will remember from your history lessons that this is exactly like the miracle that saved Frederick the Great in 1762 when Prussia was on the verge of being destroyed by foes pressing in from all sides! The death of President Roosevelt is the same now as the death of Czarina Elizabeth was then! Fate and history will echo for a just and righteous cause like ours!” Kohl beamed at us. “Heil Hitler!” he concluded.

We responded with a tepid “Heil Hitler” and went back to our chores. Czarina Elizabeth had been succeeded by the pro-Prussian Czar Peter, who concluded a peace deal with Frederick, thus splintering the enemy alliance. Perhaps Kohl and the Nazi leadership had special knowledge about the next American president that made them so happy. I doubted it.

This fantasy lasted exactly two days.

The sound of artillery fire is different than the sound of bombs. It is a harder thudding sound, preceded by a long whistle as the shells travel through the air. It was a Sunday and I was preparing to walk to Colditz, but that was precisely the direction the sound of artillery was coming from. I was immediately panic-stricken by the thought of what might be happening to Mama and my sister and brothers. We had been hearing rumours for days now that both the Americans and Russians were getting close to Colditz. It was a toss-up which army would arrive first. I was standing at the camp gate, undecided about what to do when Hauptmann Kohl began shouting, ordering us to assemble.

“Hitler Youth! You have seen your brothers and friends depart for the front! Now the front has come to us and it is our time to hoist the banner proudly and step forward to defend the Fatherland!”

What?

“We will immediately engage the defensive plan and man the trenches! I have obtained a few additional weapons! These will be distributed to the twelve- and thirteen-year-olds while eleven and younger will act in a logistical support role!”

Most of us were so aghast at what we were hearing that we did not notice Herr Tischendorf emerge from his office and walk forward. He stepped in front of Kohl and in a louder voice than I had heard him use in a long time shouted, “I am commander of KLV-Lager Schönbach and I hereby countermand Hauptmann Kohl’s order! Boys, prepare to evacuate the camp.”

Kohl was evidently prepared for this turn of events, although he worked his jowls for a couple of seconds before responding. “And I am commander of the Hitler Youth here! This is a military matter, not a school or camp matter! The defence of the Reich is paramount, and under Emergency Decree 1945-17.3a I assume absolute control of KLV-Lager in the name of the High Command!”

“I do not accept this!” Tischendorf responded. “The war is over, so there are no longer any military matters for you to be in control of.” Tischendorf took a step towards Kohl. He was the taller man and perhaps hoped to use his height advantage to intimidate.

“The war is not over! There has been no surrender. There will be no surrender. That is treasonous talk, Herr Tischendorf! I hereby place you under arrest.” He motioned to two of the more fanatical thirteen-year-olds to seize Tischendorf.

The rest of us could not believe our eyes or ears. As nobody was paying attention to us, the great majority of us dispersed. Let Kohl believe we were following orders to man the trenches, but without saying anything to each other we quickly crammed our few sad belongings into our rucksacks and fled the camp. This might sound dangerous, but staying felt far more dangerous, and in any case the camp was in a chaotic uproar. Kohl did not have enough boy fanatics to exert his will and, as far as the rest of us were concerned, Tischendorf was still in charge and he said we were to evacuate.

I was fortunate in having somewhere nearby to evacuate to, but many others had to somehow make their way back to Leipzig or Dresden or the other cities where Lord knows what was going on. The postal system and the news (or, more rightly, propaganda) service and the trains, which had all continued to function for a remarkably long time in the rapidly shrinking sliver of a Reich, had in the last few days finally faltered. We no longer had any idea what was going on anywhere else. But evacuate and disperse we did, as the camp seemed likely to become a focus of fighting. Anywhere else was better.

I was on the road to Colditz with two other boys when Jolf caught up with us. He had been running.

“They’ve hung him,” he panted.

“Hung who?”

“Tischendorf! Kohl set up a little court with Herr Braun and Manfred.” Herr Braun was the most strident Nazi among the teachers and Manfred was the thirteen-year-old head boy of dormitory No. 4. “The three of them declared Tischendorf guilty of the capital crime of treason and with the help of Erwin and Kurt tied a noose around his neck. They hung him from the oak by the gate. He struggled and cried for help, but nobody did anything. Some even laughed. Kohl had his revolver out. I’m sure he would have shot anyone who tried to help. I just stood there.” Jolf began sobbing. “It was horrible, so horrible.”

We could hear more artillery fire ahead of us in Colditz and now we could hear shots being fired behind us, in or near camp. Jolf kept sobbing and sobbing.

We all began to run, towards the artillery and away from the shots. Artillery seemed more abstract than the shooting and it was also quite intermittent. As we approached the bridge, we could see that an enormous homemade-looking British flag was draped on the castle walls, but the castle was being hit by artillery shells. This was confusing. The town itself was weirdly calm. I invited Jolf to come home with me, but