The Bible of Clay (15 page)

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"alfred, no! i will not allow you to enlist in the

army. Continue with your studies; you can be just as useful as a civilian." "Father, Germany needs me," the young man insisted. "But not as a soldier on the front lines. You will do your part once you complete your education."

"Georg is going to sign up this week; Franz and Heinrich too." Herr Tannenberg held his head in his hands. "Come, son! You don't think their parents are going to allow that, do you?" His stern gaze fixed on his son. "We've all agreed: The four of you must complete your doctoral studies."

"Germany needs men who are ready to die for the Fatherland." "Any idiot can die, but Germany cannot afford to lose the best of the nation's youth. Who do you think will run the country once we've won the war?"

Herr Tannenberg knew that his headstrong son remained unconvinced. He would obey, of course, but never surrender.

"Very well, Father, I will do as you wish, but I hope you will reconsider your decision."

"I will think about it, Alfred. Now go talk to your mother. She is making arrangements for a party, a refined evening of music here at

home, and she wants you to attend. The Hermanns will be coming with their daughter, Greta. We want you to become acquainted. She will make you the perfect wife. You are both pure, strong, intelligent Aryans and will be able to give Germany fine, strong children."

"I thought you wanted me to concentrate on my studies."

"You're also old enough to find a wife. We'd like that wife to be Greta."

"I have no interest in marrying."

"I understand that at your age you may not wish to marry yet, but in time you'll change your mind. You must begin to think about the future."

"Did you choose my mother or did your father choose her for you?"

"That question is impertinent."

"I just want to know whether it is a tradition in our family for the fathers to decide who their sons will marry." Alfred calmed down and lowered his voice. "But don't worry; I like Greta as well as any other girl. She's pretty enough at least, even though she's perfectly stupid."

"How can you say that? One day she will be the mother of your children."

"I didn't say I wanted to marry an intelligent woman. I do prefer Greta, really. She does possess one excellent quality: She almost never talks."

Herr Tannenberg had had enough. He would hear no more slander against the daughter of his friend Fritz Hermann.

Hermann was a high-ranking officer in the SS, a man who had spent many days with Himmler himself at Wewelsburg Castle, near the historic city of Paderborn, in Westphalia. There, twelve elite officers of the SS, who comprised the chapter of Himmler's "Germanic Order of the Round Table," gathered once a year to perform their secret rituals, the details of which were unknown to Herr Tannenberg. Each member of the group had a chair with a silver plaque on which was engraved his name. Herr Tannenberg was well aware that Fritz had his own chair.

Thanks to his friendship with Fritz Hermann, Herr Tannenberg's small textile factory was doing extremely well, unblemished by the economic crisis that was now crippling Germany. Fritz had recommended to his superiors that they order military uniforms for some units from his friend Tannenberg's factory, and Tannenberg was now also manufacturing ties and shirts for the SS.

But Tannenberg wanted to seal his relationship with Fritz Hermann. How better than a marriage between his son Alfred and Fritz's oldest daughter?

Alfred was right, of course. And although tolerable, Greta was not the most attractive of young women: blond, with blue eyes, though they bulged a bit, and lily-white skin. But she tended toward the
zaftig,
as one could see in her pillowy white hands. Her mother, Frau Hermann, subjected her to strict weight-control measures, and her father required her to perform physical exercise daily, in the vain hope that she might become slim and graceful.

There were no longer any Jewish professors at the university. By now most had fled the country, leaving behind all their belongings. Those who had stayed believed that, in time, reason would prevail—after all, they'd done nothing and were loyal Germans like everyone else.
They
were now housed in concentration camps. Thus, it mattered to no one that neither good Professor Cohen nor good Professor Wessler had ever returned from Haran. Although they were two of the world's leading experts in the Sumerian language, even before their unfortunate deaths they had not been allowed in the classroom. They found work in the expedition to Haran only because the chancellor of the university, who was suspected by many of having Jewish blood himself, had aided their departure from Germany two years earlier. And so they had remained in Haran, staying on even when the other members of the team had returned when the time allotted for excavation was over. Unfortunately, Syria was even less kind to them than Germany would have been.

Alfred had invited his three friends to the evening of music arranged by his mother, hoping they would make the obligation a bit less tiresome. He enjoyed music, but not these concerts at home, when his mother sat at the piano and her friends took up other instruments and "surprised" their guests with pieces they had been rehearsing for weeks on end. He did admit to himself, though, that Greta was a virtuoso on the cello.

He admired his mother. Tall, thin, with chestnut hair and hazel eyes, Helena Tannenberg was a woman of natural grace and elegance who inspired murmurs of admiration wherever she went. There was no woman in the world more beautiful than she.

Seeing her beside Greta reminded him of the story of the ugly duckling and the swan.

"So your father wants you married off to Greta. Lucky man!" joked Georg, pinching Alfred.

"We'll see who your father chooses for you."

"He knows it's no use. I shall never marry, never," Georg declared defiantly.

"You'll have to; we all have to—the Fiihrer wants us producing children of pure Aryan blood," Heinrich said, laughing.

u
Ja,
well, you can have as many children as you want, and one more for me," insisted Georg.

"Come, Georg, surely one of these lovely young things catches your eye! They're not all bad," chided Franz.

"Have you not yet detected my absolute lack of interest in the female sex?"

The others diverted the conversation toward other, less delicate subjects. No one wanted to hear Georg again explain the inferiority of women to men.

Alfred's father joined the young friends; with him was Fritz Hermann.

Colonel Hermann asked after the boys' studies and encouraged them to start thinking seriously about their contribution to Germany's war effort.

"Study, but don't forget that the Reich needs young men like you on the front lines."

"Could we get into the SS?"

Alfred's question took his father aback; his friends, too, were a bit startled.

"You, in the SS? That would be wonderful! Our Reichfiihrer would be so proud to have dedicated young men such as yourselves. I will see to it that you are accepted at once. Tomorrow afternoon I'll expect you in my office—you know where the headquarters of the ESHA are, on Prinz Albrechtstrasse. Already this fine evening has turned out to be even better than I expected!" Fritz Hermann exclaimed delightedly.

Just then, Herr Tannenberg and Colonel Hermann were called away to another group, and Georg quickly rounded on Alfred.

"What the hell are you doing? I don't want to join the SS or the Gestapo or any other of the Reich's glorious organizations. What I want to do is continue our excavations in Syria. I want to be an archaeologist, not a soldier, and I thought the rest of you felt the same."

"Come on, Georg! We're going to have to join the army sooner or later—we can't hold out forever. My father is losing patience with me; he doesn't want me in the army, so fine
—
I'll join the SS, where my future father-in-law will find me a comfortable desk far away from the front lines. The rest of you should do the same, or you'll wind up in a much less desirable position," Alfred told them.

"You know, my friend," Heinrich spoke up, slightly inebriated, "you're right. I'll go with you to Hermann's office tomorrow. I could use a nice comfortable spot in the SS. I'm tired of depending on my father's largesse, anyway."

"So the SS it is," Franz said, by way of joining the other two.

"What better way to go!" Alfred said, clapping him on the back.

"Absolutely. I'm with you." Franz nodded again.

"What idiots you three are! Where has all this come from?" Georg's voice betrayed desperation.

"From being at war and our duty to the Fatherland. My father is right—any fool can die. We should go where we can do the most good, far from any real danger. Not to mention, we might be able to do some good for ourselves on the side. I think I'll ask Hermann to send me to one of the camps, perhaps Dachau. Seems like a fine place to spend the war."

Colonel Hermann's aide asked them to wait in a room next to the office and told them that as soon as the colonel finished with Herr Himmler, he'd see them.

The four friends looked at one another with smiles and raised eyebrows, then settled in to wait patiently. A half hour later, Colonel Hermann himself came out to greet them.

"Come in, come in! I'm so delighted to see you all. I have spoken to the Reichfuhrer, and as soon as you've completed the formalities and been sworn in to the SS, I'll take you to meet him."

Fritz Hermann listened as the young men explained their ambitions for service, and he agreed fully: When it was time, Alfred and Heinrich would be sent to the political office of one of the work camps where enemy prisoners and undesirables were held; Franz would be deployed to the front with the Waffen; and Georg would enter an intelligence unit.

"Perfect! Perfect! In the SS you will be able to develop your native intelligence and character to its fullest potential."

That afternoon, the four friends left Hermann's office as members of Hitler's elite SS. Fritz Hermann had most certainly been efficient, and in just slightly over two hours he had found each one a place at headquarters; that way they could finish their studies at the university while they were serving the Homeland.

"To Germany!" said Alfred, raising his stein aloft. "To us," Georg toasted.

It was a long night; the four didn't return home until the sun had begun to creep above the housetops. They were beginning a new chapter in their lives, but they had each sworn that nothing would destroy their friendship, no matter where the future took them.

Two years later, after their education and service in Berlin were completed, Fritz Hermann sent them on to their respective destinations. Franz was sent to one of the SS's special commando units, while Georg was taken into the Reich Main Security Office—the RSHA, as it was commonly known. The intelligence service was under the direction of feared SS Obergruppenfiihrer Reinhard Heydrich, the "Blond Beast." Alfred would be in Austria, as liaison officer with Reich Security Headquarters, where Heinrich would accompany him as supervisor of the SS Headquarters for Administration and Economy, a unit in charge of supervising the work camps.

In Austria, the major work camp was Mauthausen, one of Himmler's favorites.

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