Johann and Daniel
by Charles Lacey
Chapter 3
Johann.
My eleventh birthday came on the Twelfth of March, 1938. "Double figures at last" said Papa, and Traudl, who was a wizard in the kitchen, had baked a cake for me. But events were overtaking us, because on that same day came the Anschluss; German troops marched their horrible goose-step through the streets of Linz, and wise citizens went home and stayed there. Daniel tells me that the English writer, George Orwell, has pointed out that the goose-step is a symbolic stamping on the faces of the conquered. Whatever it is, the thought of it still makes me go cold.
We knew that Jews would no longer be allowed to own or run businesses. News had filtered through from Germany of the ever-increasing severity of the anti-Semitic laws. Mr Meyer, Papa's boss, came to our house bearing a small, mysterious box. We later discovered that it contained his wife's jewellery which he was leaving with us for safe-keeping. It says much for Papa's probity, and Mr Meyer's trust in him, that he was prepared to do that. And the distrust of the German government was such that even banks could not be regarded as secure. Nevertheless, we were very nervous. Papa took over Mr Meyer's job for the duration. We later learned that Mr Meyer had advised the Bank's Directors that this should happen if or when the persecution of Jews came to Austria.
On the surface, things otherwise went on more or less as usual. But there were underlying tensions that even we children could feel, though our parents did their best to shield us from the worst of it. Everybody, but especially the Jews, feared the Gestapo, and with good reason. We later learned that poor Mr Meyer and his wife had been identified (they were prominent people in the Jewish community in our city) and taken away in the middle of the night. We never saw them again, and later discovered that they perished in one of the death camps. Long after the War, when they were certain that the Meyers would never return, Papa and Mamma sold Mrs Meyer's jewellery and gave the money to Jewish charities. Papa kept not one pfennig of the proceeds; he even paid the expenses of the sale from his own pocket, such was his transparent honesty.
We had to be terribly careful, though, in those times. The most harmless remark, if overheard and quoted, or misquoted, to the Nazi authorities, could result in one's being arrested and sent to one of the concentration camps. It was not only Jews who were chosen; anyone who was sick, or simple-minded, or was believed to be anti-Nazi, could be deported and never seen again. In some places, I heard, such as France, even some of the people who lived in old folks' homes were taken away and quietly disposed of so that they should not be a burden on the State. But the worst of all were the concentration camps and the death camps. We knew they existed, but until after the War, when Mr Dimbleby of the British Broadcasting Corporation went into the camp at Bergen-Belsen and told the world what he had seen there, we had no idea of the horrors within them. I remember hearing his broadcast in 1945. He described the piles of unburied bodies and those starving inmates who were still just alive, and then said "May I add to this story only the assurance that everything that an army can do to save these men and women and children is being done and that those officers and men who've seen these things have gone back to the Second Army moved to an anger such as I have never seen in them before." I can understand that anger. I feel it too. Many of the people I knew as a child went into Bergen-Belsen or other camps, never to return.
As I have said, I was quick with my pencil. Once, I drew a caricature of Hitler. Fortunately my sister Ilse saw it and made me put it on the fire. I was desperately sad that my older sister Brigitte had acquired a boyfriend, Josef, who had become a Nazi, and joined the Hitler Jugend. Ilse told me never to say anything against the Nazis to Brigitte, or even in her hearing. That was good advice, and I am sure it saved my life. Under the Nazi government, children denounced their parents, or brothers and sisters one another. It was a kind of madness, I think.
That summer, I went to my senior school, the Gymnasium on Spittelwiese. The work was much harder, but I had expected that. We started to learn all sorts of new things: Mathematics and Chemistry for example. We had the choice of French or English as a second language so I chose English; and of course there were History and Literature. But that had changed a good deal. We no longer learned about our Austrian heroes and history, but about German history and mythology. The music of Richard Wagner played a good part in this as did the writings of Hitler's favourite authors such as Karl Wolff and even Niccolo Machiavelli.
But my mind and my body were changing, too. I became more inquiring and, perhaps, a little less timid. I still hated ball games, but I was becoming better at running and athletics. I remained very slim, but grew taller and stronger. And there were disturbing things happening "down below", so to speak. I would often wake in the morning to find my penis stiff and upright; sometimes it was quite difficult to pass water tidily, but until I had done so the stiffness would persist. I tried to ask Papa about this, but all he would say was "It's because you are growing up. As far as you can, ignore it." And then he would change the subject. Poor Papa! He hated to deal with anything emotional. He found his job quite difficult, too; he did not have Mr Meyer's easy manner and I think many of the bank's clients, as well as the more junior staff, must have found him rather stiff and unapproachable. But Duty was his lodestar and he would always have done his very best for the Bank and its customers.
Of course, one subject which all the boys in my class discussed was Girls. I joined in, of course, and made up a few things to try to impress them. I said I'd kissed a girl at my birthday party (it was quite true, but the girl was my older cousin Lotte). I'm quite sure most of the other boys told fibs like this too! But in truth I could not understand what all the fuss was about. I was very fond of my sisters, of course, though less so of Brigitte since she had joined forces with a Nazi youth. But the idea of embracing or kissing a girl was if anything faintly distasteful. On the other hand, there was another of the boys that I did feel strongly attracted to. His name was Gottfried Federlein. He was a little taller than I, and quite broad shouldered and deep voiced, with fair hair and blue eyes. He too joined in the talk about girls, but I often wondered if it was just bragging in the way we all did.
But I was becoming known for my drawings. I drew pictures of many of my classmates, though if they had known they were really caricatures. I also drew caricatures of some of our teachers, including Dr Aschenbach, who taught us Chemistry. He was a tall, thin man with pince-nez worn astride a great eagle nose, who was very easy to caricature Unfortunately Dr Aschenbach caught sight of it when it fell out of my notebook during one of his lessons, and I was thoroughly scolded and the picture torn up and thrown in the litter bin. You may be sure that I was more careful after that!
But I did work hard and kept a good position in my class in most subjects, even Chemistry which I found very difficult. At the end of the year when the examination results came out I had done quite well, and Papa gave me a present of some real artist's paper and pencils. He said he would have liked to give me paints, but like most things they were becoming more and more difficult to find. Most pre-War stock had gone, and it was forbidden to import or manufacture anything that did not contribute to the War effort.
During that summer holiday I was out one day when I met Gottfried Federlein. We didn't have a family holiday that year due to the Occupation, so I had a good deal of spare time to dispose of. Gottfried greeted me warmly. I was flattered that someone like him, who was popular with everyone, should bother with me, but he walked some distance with me and even invited me to his house. Well, Papa and Mamma had no objection, as his parents were quite well-to-do. In fact, I think Herr Federlein was probably one of the Bank's clients. So I went to Gottfried's house, and he met me at the door. I don't think we did more than talk, and drink Frau Federlein's home-made lemonade. We met quite often during that Summer. Sometimes we would walk together in the Bauernberg Park, or go to hear the band playing. Once we went to the cinema to see a film, but it was all about the good things that the Nazis wanted us to know that were doing. I had the sense to keep my opinions about that to myself, but I noticed that Gottfried kept quiet about it, too.
Then one day I came to his house and we went into their garden and sat in a little summer-house that they had. It was very quiet, well away from the road and hidden behind some bushes. We sat down and talked about school for a while, then Gottfried suddenly said, "Do you ever.... you know... play with your...?"
"No," I replied, "at least, I don't think so." I was really not sure what he meant.
"Well, do you... go stiff sometimes? You know, down below?"
I was in a quandary. I was beginning to take his meaning. On the one hand, I made a point of always telling the truth. It was one of Papa's favourite sayings, Tell the truth and shame the Devil. On the other hand, I had never talked about anything so intimate, even with Papa. In the end, no doubt blushing furiously, I said, "Well, yes, sometimes."
At this point I caught sight of Gottfried's trousers. There was an unmistakable bulge in the front. Suddenly he stood up, unbuttoned his trousers and slid them down his hips, together with his drawers. His penis stood out from his body. It looked huge to me, with a ring of brownish wiry hair around it. But to my extreme embarrassment, my own penis immediately stiffened. I tried to hide it by leaning forward, but Gottfried reached out and put his hand upon it. "Take your trousers off," he said, "and I will show you something that you can do."
So off came my trousers and my drawers, and I watched as Gottfried rubbed himself up and down, getting quite red in the face, until he suddenly stiffened and some drops of fluid appeared at the end of his shaft. By now I was very excited indeed and rubbed myself, conscious of completely new sensations. Before long I experienced my first orgasm. It frightened me to start with, until I reflected that Gottfried had done the same thing, perhaps many times, and he was certainly healthy and strong enough.
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