The penitent soldier ❹

Erik Lenzer looked around trying to find some of the victims but it was impossible because of the gunshots that they all have in their faces. It wasn't the first time that he did something similar with the dead bodies and even if his fellows thought it was something very stupid, he'd keep looking. The war had taken away everything from the people who were dead and even for them; for Erik it was the third winter far away from his home, family and friends and he hadn't received a letter in months. He didn't exactly know what was going on in the rest of the country, especially in Bavaria where he was born, but what he really knew at that moment was that he and the rest of the German army had besieged a small town called Somme.
In the centre of the city there were only three houses which remained standing next to what it seemed too had been a square with a destroyed pool of stone. The rest of the street was full with rubble, old newspapers and some belongings of the people who had left.

Walking down the street, Lenzer saw a picture in middle of the tarmac next to an abandoned suitcase full with clothes, pictures and some pair of shoes. It had belonged to a family, which were in the picture that Erik took from the street. Two boys and one little girl with their parents smiling, in what it seemed was a familiar dinner. Would they still in Somme? Would they still even alive? Erik felt pity about them and left the photograph where he had found it, next to the suitcase. One of his partners looked at him, confused. Erik knew that he would never share that new feeling that the war had brought to him; when he was younger, some years ago when everything started, he thought that his country needed him for a good reason. But now, when years had passed and nothing but death and destruction had filled the streets and corners of every city and village that they visited, his pride for his country wasn't there anymore. Was he the only one who felt the same?

The squad kept walking into the city or, what remained of it. There were some old bodies lying next to a chapel. The smell was indescribable and Erik couldn't help looking at them. Their faces were eaten by rodents; their bodies were nothing but old clothing wet and dirty. There were two, maybe men. After ten minutes walking down the street, the German squad found what it seemed to be an old school in the middle of a field. Some chickens were running in the backyards next to a cow and a pig. The school was a big country house which had been alone since the war started and the gate was opened.
As soon as they registered the entire house and had found that was empty, the captain gave the order to settle there. They were almost 15 men, counting the people who were sick and wounded, desperate for water, food and rest. Immediately, the cooker started to do something with some of the vegetables that he luckily found in the garden and others were given orders to woodcutting, divide rooms and to be awaken at any possible enemy attack.

Erik went down the stairs, looking for a place where he could sleep. He hadn't slept in some days; the last battle was exhausting and many of his fellows died in action. Originally they were 50 men, young, with experiences with guns and some battles in their bodies. For Erik, it wasn't the first one. He had already fought in Poland, when allied came. Then, he was transferred to another battalion next to Paris and finally stayed came back to Poland, near to extermination camp where he spent almost three months. He was a man-made for battle; he was tall and had athletic body, he moved fast and was a perfect sniper. Even though his reputation in the German army was worthy of consideration, he never showed his register off. On his shoulder he had carry every day the regrets of killing people in a field, but as one of his partner said one night while they were hidden near to a bridge in Paris, it was him or the people behind the enemy line.

What he saw in that camp where people gone there to die, was even more tragic. Those three months were enough to change his mind and his appreciation about war; there was nothing that could prove that massive killing of people. But who was he to do exactly the same? At the end, he was just following orders for his superiors, being the marionette of somebody else who would never get his hands dirty.
One photograph of the school made him stop. There was a man, which seemed to be a priest, in the middle of the picture next to some women and around them, there were bunches of kids, students of that institution. Where they could be? Had the Nazis killed them too? Those innocent souls? He felts worse when he entered in one of the rooms. The bed was made, followed by a wardrobe and a desk in front of the window. Erik came closer to see through the glass, watching his fellows doing their job in the garden. He even laughed when the cow kicked one of the soldiers in his lower parts. Then, Erik focused his attention in a journal left over the desk, close to some papers and wrappers of sweets. Looking one of the papers and flicking through the pages of the journal, he realized that everything had belonged to a woman, maybe a teacher of that school who lived in that room. That thought made him chills and kept the papers and the book in the first drawer of the desk.
When he opened the wardrobe, several dresses and pairs of shoes appeared in front of his eyes. Surely, the German occupation caught the earlier inhabitants by surprise, barley having time to take the most important belongings. That person, that woman, had left everything there, even jewels in a little box hidden in among some shoe boxes.

-What are you doing, sir?-asked Cross, the youngest man in the squad. Erik was holding one of the dresses when the kid appeared, having a box in his hands. The box was full of children's clothing- Do you want to try that on?- he smiled, but Erik didn't. He took all the clothing of the wardrobe and left it in the box but, he kept the jewelry case, hidden in his pocket. Cross didn't even realized; he was more interest on asking things to his war hero than putting attention of what Lenzer was really doing. 

At seven o clock they had dinner. The cook made a stew, sacrificing one of the chickens that they saw in the entering door some hours earlier. They were in the paradise! The large table was full with different salads made of tomatoes, lettuces and even eggplants. Every plate was full with potatoes and beans, some of them were still eating that tasty stew and some were just devouring everything. It was the first time in months that they eaten in a table, talking and telling stories of war and life, without any threaten.
Erik, who was sat next to the captain, was cutting a potato with the knife and drinking some water, while the rest were laughing about the story that one of the soldiers was telling, apparently when they were in Poland. Lenzer, as his friends, hadn't eaten a good meal in weeks but there was something in his stomach that couldn't leave him alone. He was absent of the conversation, eating like a machine, just filling up the spoon with more beans and cutting the chicken with the knife.

-It's your turn, Lenzer- said finally the soldier of the story. The rest of the people were still laughing- Tell us one story! You have many! - They clapped and hit the tables, smiling.

-No… you are way better than telling stories, Tillman- said Erik drinking water.

-But you are Erik Lenzer!- said Cross in the contrary border of the table. The men clapped and cheer him up. Even the captain told him to tell some of his stories.

-Well…- said Erik, trying to remember- There was a town near to Warsaw, I can't remember the name… but it was destroyed. There were people there who still alive, living in their houses but the entire city was destroyed. Nobody in his right mind would ever stay there- he made a pause, remembering exactly the moment when the battalion entered in one of the houses- There was a house, near to the centre of the city… a house like this. We knew we weren't the first in that town… some battle or something had happened before we went there…- he was young at that time, only 21 years old- What I found in the second floor was a bunch of corpuses… children. 

-That's not a good story- said Tillman laughing- You have kill many people! Tell us something like a battle, when you killed some Americans or something…

- I am not proud of that- replied him looking at his partner- I've killed more than 50 men in this war… some of them were like you Tillman- said looking at that blonde man- Family parents with children waiting for them… or like you Cross- said looking at that young face in the table- Some of them were just kids who didn't even know what all this was.

-You need a drink-said the captain, laughing but Erik didn't. He filled his glass up with wine and tasted like poison when Erik drank it. He needed that, something to drown his sorrows- I want to propose a toast!- the captain stand up looking all his men- For our men who still in battle, fighting against the enemy and for our people who will finally see the results of this crusade- all raised their glasses, even Erik- And of course, I want to propose this toast to our one and unique Erik Lenzer!

-For Erik Lenzer! - Everyone drank from their glasses

-For Erik Lenzer and a thousand-year Reich! - repeated the captain. All of them toasted, included Lenzer.

Already past midnight when he was trying to get to sleep, Lenzer heard a noise coming from the first floor. The rest of the men were sleeping in the different bedrooms in the second floor and there was only one who remained in the first floor and Cross, making guard. Erik stood up and looked for his gun. The entire house was gloomy except for the first floor, where in the chimney the logs were consumed slowly. He tried to make any noise in the middle of the snoring of his partners and came to the first floor. Cross, like in other times, was asleep holding his riffle between his legs. Erik looked at him, nodding. How stupid could that kid be? Cross should never have been enlisted in the army, for his age, he would still be at school learning about mathematics and science instead of shooting people.
While he was feeling sorry for that boy, Lenzer heard again that noise. It was like when someone was slipping away, but where? He looked up to the ceiling but the noise wasn't coming from there. He searched in that it seemed used to work as a little library, but there was nothing strange there. Then, he went where the classrooms where, which were simple rooms with many tables and blackboards in it, but again he couldn't find the noise. He was giving up when he heard again the noise, but this time was clearer than ever.

The kitchen was large, with shelves and cupboards on each side. In the middle of the room, there was a table with pots, frying pans, some vegetables and the rest of the food they hadn't eaten that night. Next to the cooker there was a white furniture, which worked as a cupboard where stuffs like sugar, flour and canned food remained. A thud makes him almost jump when he put his ear near to the shelf. It just a mouse he said to himself, feeling like an idiot. A second thud made him change of opinion. What if…?  He put both hands in the borders of the cupboard and tried to move it, but it was too heavy.

-What are you doing, sir? - The voice of Cross made him jump. Erik was still holding the cupboard, but it was impossible to move- Have you lost something?

-I… can't sleep-lied Erik, taking one of the tin which contained gherkins- Do you want some?

-You look… weird- declared Cross, rubbing his eyes.

-What do you mean? - asked Lenzer, trying to open the tin with a knife. The taste of that gherkin was horrible, even though he tried to swallow it.

- This morning you were looking that dress… and then when we're having dinner, you were talking…- started to say Cross- I don't understand… I thought you were proud … like me, like the rest of the team.

-And I am-replied Erik, lying- I am just a bit tired- he smiled offering a gherkin- Can I ask you a question, Cross?- The young man smiled, nodding happy holding his gun. It was the first time that the great soldier Lenzer paid attention in the insignificant Cross-How old are you?

- I'm 17, sir- replied the kid, proud- They take me to a training camp when I was 12.

- You still under age- Erik looked amazed.

-I know- Cross kept smiling- I was the best of my class… So, my superiors decided to send me to Paris…and then I joined to your squad, sir.

-Wouldn't you like to be in somewhere else, Cross? With your parents, maybe. Tell me about them- Lenzer had forgotten the strange noise for a minute, looking at that young soldier.

- My mom died when I was 8. I was left in an orphanage and I went to a Christian school- he made a pause- I never met my father. I don't have brothers… I have nothing to lose in this… that's why I joined! - Smiling again- and what about you, sir? Do you have family? Are you married?
Lenzer smiled. Many people in the army thought that Erik was older than he really was and maybe that he had a family back in Baviera, but not of that was true.

-No- Cross looked surprised- And my parents… I don't know if they still in the city or if they have gone. You see, I had some differences with my father about all this conflict…

-Was your father a traitor? - asked the young man, disgusted.

-He's more man who I could ever be- Erik smiled vaguely, remembering the face of his father- I was more like you, Cross. I used to believe in the national dream… - Cross felt proud- I was proud of join to the army and fight for Germany, but soon I realized that it didn't matter how many excuses I could make up, every time I was going to sleep my mind was asking me a reason why I was doing that- he made a pause. They could hear the crackle of the logs- I never understood why my father was so embarrassed of what he had done years ago, during the Great War… but now I do.

-What?-asked Cross, anxious.

-You'll find out soon, kid- said Lenzer after leaving the kitchen.

Cross went back to his place, sitting in an armchair in front of the principal door. Erik sat on the bed, trying to organize his thoughts. Remembering his father was very painful but in the last days, he had brought him back to present many times.  He didn't know anything about their parents and had begun to believe that maybe they were dead.  The possibility that they parents could be in a labor camp was even more horrible. Maybe, if they were lucky, they would be in other country like Switzerland or Denmark. The possibilities were infinite.

The reflection of his face in the mirror next to the closet  reminded him of how much time had passed since he left home. The memories of that village were vague as their parent's faces. Many of the people he knew was then dead or disappeared and the majority of the men of his age were recruited in the army, just as he. Life had changed much in the last years and nothing was as he would ever expected.
When he was at school, he was a brilliant student and many of his teacher thought that Erik would go to college. He was a natural leader who used to believe in rights, equality and in the values of the society, but when all the propaganda about the new emergent savior of Germany appeared, everything in what he believed and strongly defended, was forgotten. He was blind by the national euphoria and he didn't even think it twice when the War began.

His parents begged him not to go to the war but it was impossible, he would never change his mind. The last memory of his parents was a day very early when a truck full of young soldiers appeared in the little village. He put his name and signature and was given a gun. His mother cried just like his father but Erik was mad with his parent, for not believing in the truly cause that he was fighting for.
The past blurred his vision.  He lied back in the back, focusing in the ceiling trying to sleep and for an instance he remembered the small jewelry case that he put in his pocket that morning. He took out it, vacating the jewels in the sheets of the bed. There was a ring, two sparkling earrings and a necklace, but what called his attention was a simple choker made of gold.  He took it in his hand, looking the small heart which had engraved a figure of pigeon in his front part.   When he opened it, he found out a quote engraved. Reading carefully he could finally distinguished "Annie, life always offers you a second chance. It's called tomorrow''.  Who was Annie? Would Annie have been the person to whom the necklace belonged? Where was she now? Was she at a concentration camp or was she abroad?  While he was thinking about the dedicatory, he read the initials R.F.G and 1926, engraved in the back part of the necklace.  That was the last thing he did that night before falling asleep in the bed, holding that strange piece of jewelry.