Winfred

ix

Freidrich Von Steubon, Captain, SS

That evening, I found myself storming angrily across the compound in the pouring rain.

Dismissing the guards standing at their post in the corridor for solitary confinement, I made my way to the door leading to the Jew's cell.

The guards, seeming to think that I meant to take my anger out on the prisoner, were content to step away with no argument.

I banged open the door, and then slammed it shut behind me again, neglecting even to turn on the light and plunging both me and the cell's occupant into total darkness.

I was breathing heavily now, and my head was pounding. It was all too much...The anger...The stress...The fear...The guilt...

"How...dare you?" I demanded angrily of him. "What the hell were you thinking? You could have gotten yourself killed! You could have gotten me killed, if worse came to worse! What did I tell you at the beginning of all of this! I saved your life, and this is how you repay me? By foolishly throwing it away? Stupid!"

Silence. Then he spoke.

"Are you angry with my actions because you feel that this...that my fate...is the one fate that you can control, out of all of the others? Or is it because you are simply, as you probably are telling yourself, angry at me for 'throwing my life away'? Which begs the question then...what life does a prisoner have? Some would argue that it is so terrible that death is the favorable alternative."

I was taken aback, and glad for the cover of darkness to hide my shock.

Eventually, I took a deep breath. "Perhaps...perhaps you are right. Perhaps I am simply angry because I feel...powerless, which is something that I do not often feel. But still. Why? Why would you gamble your life when you might get the chance to see your wife again someday?"

There was a short sigh, and then...

"You want to know why I took one step to the side. Why I...moved out of the line?"

"I do."

"What do you feel when you watch those men and women...and even children...mere boys, like my son...step out of the line, and gather up, to be herded into the termination chambers? The...showers...as we call them to avoid calling them what they really are. What do you feel when you call those names, and you watch them line up?"

"I...I...Stop. You cannot question me like this."

"I don't need you to answer. I know what your answer will be. You feel helpless. I know, because it is what I felt when my own son was called to join that line."

I was silent.

"I watch you, you know. I watch you, Captain Von Steubon. You are an interesting man. I have learned quite a lot."

I frowned in the darkness, leaning back against the wall. It was complete and utter pitch dark, but somehow strangely comforting. I almost wished I could be sent to solitary confinement...away from everything and everyone...for some time. "Really," I finally responded. "What have you found out?" I questioned him, my voice holding some irritation.

"I noticed...small things. I noticed the way your voice is flat, almost sad, when you read the numbers. I notice how you scan the line, eyes lingering on certain ones for a short period of time before moving on. I notice that you pale when you do this, and that you close your eyes, and frown, and then knead your brow. I noticed that it...affects you. The death sentences...you feel something when you call the names."

"I feel nothing."

"No. You felt nothing before. Your eyes were empty when you called my son's name. But your eyes are not empty now."

Silence, the longest yet.

"I hate you," I finally said. "I hate you, because I want to hate you with no guilt and be angry at you, and I feel like that is what is necessary of me in my position. And yet you so comfortably tell me things about myself that even I don't recognize fully."

He chuckled briefly. "You do recognize them. But it is new for you, to feel this way. It will be hard..." His voice turned sad. "You will feel powerless, as you said before that you did. You will want to change things, but know that you can't. You will walk the line between what you know to be true and what your job requires of you. You will, eventually, have to make a choice. You will have to decide whether to do what is right...to face possible pain or death...Or to sacrifice your convictions on the alter of safety."

A pause. I was still digesting what he had said, and my head still hurt, which was making it rather difficult.

"You want to know why I stepped out of line today."

I did not respond this time. He knew that I wanted the answer. He would clearly wait for his own time to tell it.

"I stepped out of line, not to make you angry. I stepped out of line because I have decided to do what is right, even if it means facing possible death or beating at that guard...what was his last name again...at Dietrich's hands. And what was right, in this case, was giving you someone to come to."

I stood up straight, abandoning the leaning position against the wall. "You do not have anyone, Captain Von Steubon. Your rank already sets you above everyone else. Your...new doubts over the German army's methods...separates you in a way that you have never before been separated from the rest of your fellow soldiers. You need someone to talk to, once in a while. Dietrich is itching to throw me in solitary, and I knew that. So I did what I had to to ensure that he would."

"You did this...you took ten lashes, and solitary confinement...for me? For a Nazi?"

He laughed. "You are a person. You matter. Beyond Nazi, or Jew...behind the labels...therein lies what really matters."

I did not speak, but eventually turned to leave, after the silence grew somewhat long.

I opened the door slightly, allowing a sliver of light to enter the room.

"Do not forget that it is alright to feel powerless...to feel that you can do nothing. As a soldier, you spend your life controlling things, or at least trying to. Give in, for once. You cannot save every person. You cannot end the war just by thinking it. Remember that you are a just a man, and they are just men, and women. And in the end, you are all human. You are not all-powerful and, as painful as it might be, you cannot do anything. But it is enough that you feel. It is something. You are not empty anymore."