Officer Factory

“Not much," said Krafft amiably.

“But what the hell are we doing here, then?" cried Kater in desperation.

“Well, my dear fellow," said Captain Feders, “you have, as always, a number of alternatives open to you! For example you can extend the break. Or you can postpone the funeral. Or you can find a substitute for the padre. Or you can tell the General that you have nothing to tell him. On the other hand, you can quite simply drop dead, and thus be rid of all your troubles."

Kater looked about him savagely like a wild boar at bay. The officers regarded him with considerable interest; after what had happened here at the cemetery, he no longer seemed such a formidable figure. Lieutenant Krafft, it seemed to them, had maneuvered Kater into a position from which he would find it difficult to emerge unscathed. Presumably Krafft was after his job. After all, this was the way things usually worked; one man profited from another's mistakes.

But an expectant hush suddenly settled over the mourners. For Major-General Modersohn had turned back towards the funeral party, letting his shark's eyes sweep over them until complete silence reigned. Then he stared straight at Captain Kater.

“Break over!" cried the latter immediately.

The General nodded almost imperceptibly. The officers fell in again and the cadets froze in their positions. Otherwise at first nothing else happened at all.

A silence which was not indeed without a certain solemnity now settled over the funeral party. Only Captain Kater could be heard, breathing heavily beside Lieutenant Krafft.

“For God's sake, then!" said the General.

Kater started with dismay. The ceremony was his responsibility but he couldn't think what should be done with it. Feeling increasingly inclined to hand the solution of this problem over to Krafft, he turned on him a look at once peremptory and imploring. “Carry on then, Krafft!" he whispered, and as if to give further emphasis to the order, for there could be no doubt that this was what it was, he pushed Krafft to the fore.

Once again Krafft almost stumbled into the open grave. But he pulled himself up just in time, and said to the cadets stationed beside the coffin: “Let him down!"

The cadets immediately obeyed. The coffin rattled down into the grave, and frozen earth fell on top of it, while those present followed this utterly unexpected turn of events with mixed feelings.

“We will now join in silent prayer," proposed Lieutenant Krafft. Fortunately this rather vague formula had the suggestion of an order about it. And the mourners seemed to adapt themselves to the proposal at once. They lowered their heads, stared at the ground, and tried to maintain suitably solemn expressions.

Hardly any of the officers thought for a moment about Lieutenant Barkow lying in the now almost invisible coffin, for few of them had ever seen much of him. Lieutenant Barkow, like many of the instructors, had only been at the school a fortnight. He had been an erect, rather aloof figure, with an expressionless youthful face, fishy eyes, and a mouth that was always tight shut. An officer of the sort you find in picture books: the faithful youth of Germany—resolute, prepared for anything. Even for this. What could be more logical?

One of the cadets muttered: “He asked for it anyway." From a distance at any rate, it sounded almost like a prayer. “Amen," said Lieutenant Krafft loudly.

“Dismiss!" said Major-General Modersohn.

This order of the General's caught everyone completely by surprise. It was like a pistol shot fired at point-blank range. The mourners looked up, some rather put-out, others genuinely disturbed. The order was not without its resemblance to an unexpected kick in the pants. Moreover it was issued to people who were ostensibly saying their prayers.

Only slowly did the utterly unheard-of nature of the order begin to dawn on the more experienced members of the funeral party—it was an order directed against the ceremony itself. For the earth had not been thrown in, the wreaths had not been laid, and the volley had not been fired over the grave. The procedure which had been so carefully planned and rehearsed four times had been abruptly broken off at a single word.

A word, however, to which there was no gainsaying.

"The officers are dismissed." As second-in-command, the officer in command of Number 1 Course gave the order without delay. It was a good chance to display initiative. It would not escape the General's attention, for initiative was something to which he attached particular importance. “Cadets will return to their billets. Further duty as per time-table."

The funeral party broke up almost at once. The officers moved off in ones and twos towards the entrance to the cemetery. Captain Ratshelm immediately took over command of his company.

Captain Kater stood there for a few seconds rooted to the spot. Then he moved off in the wake of Lieutenant Krafft for whom he was planning a massive rebuke. For how was Kater to continue to exist in this training school if he couldn't find a scapegoat? He had never failed to find one before.

Major-General Modersohn alone remained behind.

The General took a few paces forward and stared into the grave. He saw the dark brown wooden planks on to which the earth had fallen. All round him lay dirty, trampled snow. Somebody's heel had ground a scarlet wreath ribbon into the slush. It lay there encrusted with mud.

The hard, inscrutable face of the General gave nothing away. His lips were set in a thin, straight line. And his eyes were closed, or so it seemed. As if he wanted no one to see what he was thinking.

As the officers and cadets marched down into the valley towards their barracks they looked back from the great bend in the road and saw their commanding officer still standing in the cemetery in the distance — a clear, slim silhouette, menacing against the ice-cold, snow-blue sky, as if frozen in his unapproachability.

“There’s going to be a damned cold wind blowing in the next few days," said Captain Feders. “Because, I don't care what anyone says, there's something odd about this whole business. The General isn't the sort of man to mind about ordinary, everyday stupidity. If he shows he's angry, then it means that some really gigantic row is brewing. But what, exactly? Well, we'll be finding out all too soon."

2. A MATTER OF RAPE

“My dear Lieutenant Krafft," said Captain Kater, who was making his way through the barracks with his company officer towards the headquarters building, “a training school is a highly complex organization. And compared with our General the Sybil herself was little more than a slick fortune-teller."

“That’s why I can't understand how you of all people got here," said Lieutenant Krafft frankly.

“I didn't choose this post," said Captain Kater with a somewhat weary smile,” but since I'm here, this is where I intend to stay. Do you follow me? I wouldn't like you to build any false hopes in that respect. For that would make things too unpleasant for you and too exacting for me. If you're wise, then you'll try to get along with me."

“What else can one do?" said Lieutenant Krafft cheerfully. “I’m neither clever nor hard-working. I have no ambitions and I'm all for a quiet life."

“A bit of a one for the girls too, I dare say," the Captain suggested with a wink. He mistrusted Krafft, as he mistrusted everybody on principle. People were always trying to get things out of him. The General wanted discipline and a knowledge of the regulations, the officers wanted bottles of schnapps and extra rations, and this fellow Krafft, it seemed, wanted his job. It was difficult to hold younger, inexperienced officers back when they saw a chance of treading on their superiors' heels. And the officers of the military training school were an elite who were not only burning to make a career for themselves but also had it in them to do so. However, there were always girls.

“We shouldn't exaggerate," said Krafft. “'Girls' is going too far. One's quite enough for me. Every now and again."

“You will find me quite human about that," the Captain assured him. “And I always say: every man to his own tastes. But let's get one thing straight: I am in command of the headquarters company and you're allotted to me as company officer. We're clear about that, aren't we?"

Together they walked through the orderly room of the head-quarters company with Captain Kater leading, as was only right and proper. The clerks, a corporal and two lance-corporals, rose to their feet. The one member of the female staff, however, remained seated, and in a most provocative manner too. Kater pretended to take no notice of her.

Yet it did not escape him that this attractive girl—a certain Elfrida Rademacher—had eyes for no one but Lieutenant Krafft. She smiled at him with such direct intimacy that he and she might have been the only two people in the world. Kater looked away.

“A cup of coffee?" asked Elfrida. She said this in the direction of Captain Kater, but winked at the Lieutenant or she did so. Krafft winked back. Slowly the icy cold of the cemetery began to thaw from his limbs.

“Yes, fine, make some coffee," said Kater generously. “Put some cognac in mine, please."

In this way Captain Kater demonstrated his individuality of taste. He never let slip an opportunity of reminding his associates of his individualism—at least in respect of his choice of drinks.

“I’m badly in need of a cognac," he continued, collapsing noisily into the chair at his desk. He motioned Lieutenant Krafft to a chair beside him. “After that farce at the cemetery I need something to fortify me. Though I say so with the utmost respect, the General's becoming a bit of a nightmare. What is it he wants? If we were to make as much of a fuss as this over everyone who got killed we'd hardly be able to get on with the war. And without cognac, life would be utterly impossible."

“Yes," said Elfrida brightly, " the war gets harder and harder every day." She spread a cloth out on top of the desk and brought in two cups of coffee. “The best thing will be if I just put the bottle of brandy down as it is."

“What do you mean by that, exactly?" asked Kater, suspicious as ever. The eagerness with which Elfrida made the suggestion led him to fear the worst. “Has something else gone wrong?"

“Trebly wrong, you might say," said Elfrida frankly, arranging the glasses and beaming across at the Lieutenant.

The Captain managed to overlook this. His seat creaked beneath him. The air reeked of old cigarette smoke, and the foul smell of soap and water and rotten floor-boards was all about him. Somewhat nervously he adjusted his stomach and folded his fat little fingers over it. Then for the first time he looked straight at Elfrida Rademacher, his excellent, multi-purpose secretary, with an expression of weary exasperation.

This girl Elfrida Rademacher was certainly not uninteresting to look at, though she was a little full in the figure and her dress bulged prominently in a number of places. She was a little like a horse, though perhaps with a rather cow like temperament. In any case there was a full-blooded rustic quality about her, suggestive of haystacks and rustling woods —all things, admittedly, to which Captain Kater attached little importance, for he was a pretty cold fish. He was, alas, no longer in his first youth, though this sometimes lent him a spurious air of virtue.

“Out with it, then, Fräulein Rademacher," he said, lighting a cigar—an especially mild Havana. “You know I'm a very understanding sort of person."

“Well, you'll need to be, this time," Elfrida assured him, winking at Krafft again, and running her tongue quickly over her lips.

“Come on, Fräulein Rademacher," said Captain Kater impatiently, “fire away."

And quite casually, if she were talking about the most natural thing in the world, she said: “Someone was raped last night."

Captain Kater winced. Even Lieutenant Krafft pricked up his ears, though he had long ago resolved never to be surprised by anything that this war for the glory of Greater Germany might have in store for him.

“It’s disgraceful!" cried Captain Kater. “Utterly disgraceful the way these cadets behave!"

“It wasn't one of the cadets," Elfrida Rademacher informed him amiably.

“Not someone from Headquarters Company, I hope?" asked the Captain, even more perturbed. Rape committed by one of the cadets would have been just tolerable, inasmuch as these were not directly under his command. Presumably the girl would concern him, for all civilian employees were his responsibility.

But if the incident should turn out to involve a member of the headquarters company, it would be disastrous. In fact it might seal his fate altogether. Coning on top of the events at the cemetery it might even get him a posting to the front.

Kater therefore glanced straight at Krafft, automatically preparing to implicate him in his troubles. The situation was grave indeed. First a man of God who sprained his ankle at the crucial moment; then a defender of the Fatherland who was foolish enough to be caught in the act of rape!

“What’s the name of the fellow who's done this to me?" he demanded.

“Corporal Krottenkopf. He's the one who was raped," announced Elfrida Rademacher, smiling with genuine pleasure.

“I’m always hearing about this Corporal Krottenkopf!" cried Kater desperately. “But really it's absurd! It's just not possible."

“It’s the truth," said Elfrida. She was obviously thoroughly enjoying herself. “The rape of Corporal Krottenkopf took place sometime in the early hours of this morning between one and three a.m. In the basement of the headquarters building too, in the communications center, by three of the signal girls on duty there."

“But it simply can't be true!" cried Captain Kater. “What do you say, Lieutenant Krafft?"

“I’m trying to envisage it from a practical point of view, Sir," declared Krafft, shaking his large bucolic head in amazement. “But I'm afraid my imagination doesn't seem to run to it."

“Disgusting!" cried Kater, meaning not so much the incident itself as its possible consequences. “What was this Krottenkopf fellow doing at night in the communications center anyway, even though he is the signals corporal? And how is it that three of these women were all in the communications center at the same time? There are never more than two on duty at once at night. And why did they have to pick on Krottenkopf? Aren't there enough cadets in the barracks who would be only too glad to satisfy their demands? Quite apart from which, why did it have to happen in duty hours!"

Captain Kater refilled his glass to the brim, and his hands were trembling so much that the cognac spilled on to a document on his desk, forming a tiny aromatic lake there. But Kater couldn't have cared less about the document or the lake of cognac. All he could think of was this appalling affair of the rape and the complications it was likely to lead to. He knocked back his glass, but its contents might have been water. There was nothing he would have liked better than to get drunk on the spot. But he had to take a decision first, and it had to be the best possible one in the circumstances. In other words it had to be a decision which would save him work and worry, and enable him to shift the responsibility from himself on to someone else's shoulders.

“Krafft," he said, “I hand the investigation of this affair over to you. The whole thing seems to me utterly incredible, but we've got to try and get to the bottom of it. I hope you follow me. I simply cannot believe that anything like this could possibly take place in my headquarters company. Biologically speaking its improbable enough, but militarily it's unthinkable. It must be a mistake."

Having said which, Kater prepared to leave, confident that officially he hadn't put a foot wrong so far. He had taken the requisite steps for an occasion of this sort, handing the matter on to someone else and seeing that it was properly investigated. If mistakes were made now, the responsibility would no longer be his. And if Krafft were by any chance to come a cropper in the process, so much the better.

Yet before Kater finally left he turned to Krafft and said: “There’s one point you oughtn't to overlook, my dear fellow—and that's this: why does Krottenkopf wait until this afternoon, before reporting this filthy business? Regulations say he should have done so first thing this morning at the latest. What does the fellow think he's doing? Who does he think he's dealing with? See that he's severely reprimanded! A man who breaks regulations like this is always a suspect."

Krafft felt a certain respect for Kater as he watched him go. He was certainly a cunning creature—though there was really nothing so surprising about this, for how otherwise would he have managed to hold his job at the training school?

Kater's suggestion that Corporal Krottenkopf, the plaintiff, had broken the regulations was as low as it was cunning, for it put Krottenkopf at a disadvantage from the start.

“I really feel like throwing the whole thing back in Kater's face!" said Lieutenant Krafft.

“Is that all you feel like doing?" said Elfrida, sidling up to him.

“Perhaps we ought to close the door!" suggested Lieutenant Krafft. He was standing very close to Elfrida.

“What’s the use?" she said with a slight huskiness in her voice. “It hasn't a lock."

“How do you know?" he asked quickly. “Have you tried it before?"

She laughed softly and snuggled up close to him as if to stop him from asking any more questions.

He put his strong arms around her and her body yielded willingly. She closed her eyes and leaned back against the C.O.'s desk, at the same time pushing the coffee cups to one side with an unfaltering hand to prevent them falling to the floor.

“No one will come in without knocking," she said. “And Kater's in the officers' mess by now."

Lieutenant Krafft looked down past her to the desk, where there was a writing-pad with a note scrawled on it: “Call RO 25/33." Presumably this meant: Call Rotunda, the land-lord of The Gay God, and get him to deliver twenty-five bottles of the '33 vintage. But Krafft closed his eyes as if to forget the letters and figures, as if to forget everything except the strength of the life within him.

They were soon panting desperately, while outside a group of cadets could be heard singing: “There is no finer country in the world." With its sturdy ground bass of tramping boots, this song made a good deal of noise, and this was helpful, for barrack walls, not being built for eternity, are usually pretty thin.

"I can't wait for to-night!" said Elfrida.

But all Karl Krafft could do was nod.

Corporal Krottenkopf, the alleged victim of the rape, was waiting for Lieutenant Krafft in the corridor. He gazed up at his superior officer with a tortured expression, and then, stooping slightly, bowed his head in shame.

Yet this Corporal Krottenkopf was no sensitive plant, no delicate youth or mother's darling. He was a man with a protuberant nose, full fleshy lips, apelike hands, and the powerful hindquarters of a stag.

“They called me up in the middle of the night," he related mournfully and with a great show of indignation. “They called me up and told me that the external exchange was out of order. I told them they could go and get—well, you know. . . . They said: Well, not down the telephone. That should have put me on my guard. But I was thinking solely of my duty, of the fact that the exchange was out of order, and of what the General might say if he wanted to telephone. It just didn't bear thinking of. It's the sort of thing that can get a man sent to the front. Well, anyway, along I went, for duty is duty, after all. No sooner had I reached the basement, though, than they set upon me. All three of them, like wild animals. They simply tore the clothes off me, boots and all. And that had them panting a bit, because my boots are damned tight—anyone who hasn't the knack has to pull like hell to get them off. But these women stopped at nothing!"

“All right, all right," said Krafft, who had no wish to go into any further details. “But why are you only coming to me now? It must have occurred to you first thing this morning that you'd been the victim of a brutal rape?"

“Yes, well," said Krottenkopf, grinning to show that he was speaking as man to man, “I’m not inhuman. I'm not a petty-minded sort of fellow, you know; never have been. I enjoy a visit to a decent brothel like the next man, and when these women set upon me like this I thought to myself: Now then you're not going to have any hard feelings about this. When someone's had more to drink than is good for them, it works on the brain and makes them randy as a rattlesnake. Right, then, I said to myself, forget all about it. It's a hard war, and casualties are inevitable in war. I'm an understanding sort of fellow, you see. The unpleasant part of the business only developed later. Now these beauties won't address me by anything but my Christian name: Waldemar they call me! And that's going too far. They've lost all sense of discipline. They spend their whole time giggling and making personal remarks and actually laughing at my orders. They call me darling! Would you believe it? They call me darling in front of the rank and file. And not just the three who were involved yesterday evening either, but all the rest of them as well! The entire communications section! And as a corporal, even as a man, I'm not prepared to stand for that."

“Right," said Lieutenant Krafft, " look into it, that is if you really insist on pressing the charge, Krottenkopf."

“I’m not insisting on anything," the corporal reassured him. “But what else am I to do? The whole barracks is laughing at me, and calling me Waldemar! . . . And my real name's Alfred! Please do something about it, Lieutenant."

“You don't think you might possibly have made a mistake?"

“You’d better ask the three harpies themselves about that. They know best, after all."

Captain Kater had retired to the officers' mess in search of strength and succor. The mess was his own undisputed territory: kitchen, cellar, and all the personnel here, were his direct responsibility in his capacity as the officer commanding the headquarters company. Apart from him, the only other person who had the right to give orders here was the General—though there was little danger of his putting in an appearance during the afternoon.

“Well, now, gentlemen," said Captain Kater briskly,” what can I offer you? Don't be shy; just tell me what you'd like. A funeral like that takes it out of you—you need something to pull you round afterwards. Personally I'd suggest an Armagnac, straight from the cask—twenty years at least in the wood."

The officers took his advice, for at least Kater knew something about drink, having spent a good deal of time in France.

Kater insisted on paying for the round. It didn't cost him much, for there weren't many officers in the mess at the time, only a handful of tactics instructors and a few company commanders. And, in addition to them, the training school's guest of the moment: a certain Wirrmann, judge-advocate by profession, temporarily seconded to the Inspector of Training Schools and posted to Wildlingen-am-Main to investigate the death of Lieutenant Barkow.