Nightmare in Berlin (11 page)

Things went on in this way for a while, until certain rumours began to reach the ears of the mayor, and he summoned the onetime beer wholesaler and now dairy manager Zaches to his office. ‘Look here, Zaches!' he said to the sallow-faced and still portly man, who couldn't bring himself to look Doll in the eye, ‘I'm hearing all kinds of stories about a big stockpile of goods you're supposed to have hidden somewhere. What's that all about?'

Not surprisingly, Zaches assured him that he had no such hidden stock of supplies. He freely admitted that he had had cases of wine and schnaps buried in his garden in seven different places. But these hiding places had all been discovered, he said, and now he had nothing more hidden away.

While Zaches was speaking thus, in all apparent honesty, Doll had been observing him closely, and now he said: ‘Everyone in the town knows about the seven hiding places. But there's a persistent rumour going around that what they found was just a trifle compared with the big hoard that hasn't been found yet …'

‘There is no big hoard any more, Mr. Mayor', insisted Zaches. ‘It's all been found. I don't have anything more.'

‘Repeat what you just said, Zaches, and look me in the eye while you're talking!'

‘Eh?' Zaches was thrown into confusion by such an unusual request. ‘How do you mean— ?'

‘Forget that I'm the mayor. I want you to look me in the eye and tell me again, man to man, that there is no big hoard anywhere!'

But Zaches couldn't do it. Before he'd said more than three or four words, his gaze slid away, and though he tried again, his eyes promptly wandered off once more. Zaches became confused, started stammering, then tailed off into silence …

‘So', said the mayor slowly after a lengthy pause, ‘now I
know
you're lying. There's some truth in the rumour.'

‘Not at all, Mr. Mayor! On my mother's life …'

‘Don't give me that, Zaches!' said Doll in disgust. ‘Just think for a moment, use your brain … You've always been a Nazi—'

‘I was never a real Nazi, Mr. Mayor! I only joined the stinking Party because I had a knife at my throat. I'd have had to file for bankruptcy otherwise, and that's the honest truth, Mr. Mayor!'

‘You have absolutely no chance of getting your property back again, and as for enjoying the stuff you have hidden, you can forget it! But the fact of the matter is', Doll went on, appealing to his better nature, ‘that any hidden goods I find as mayor are for distribution to us Germans, Zaches. You know as well as I do that there are hundreds of people in this town, Zaches, who lack the basic necessities of life. And then there's the newly established hospital — they've got eighty patients there already — just think how much good a glass of wine would do them, and how quickly their spirits would be lifted if we could hand out a few cigarettes! Be a man, Zaches, and don't think about yourself for once: think about all the people who are having a hard time, and do something to help them! Just think of it like this: you are making a generous donation. So tell me where you have hidden the stuff!'

‘I'd love to help all those people', replied the fat man, and there were tears of emotion in his eyes. ‘But I haven't got anything else, I really haven't, Mr. Mayor! May I be struck down dead if I have hidden anything else away …'

‘You've lived a life of plenty for twelve years now, Zaches', continued Doll, appearing not to have heard the other man's impassioned assurances, ‘and you've never thought about anyone else. Now you've found out for yourself — but only in the last six weeks, mind, only in the last six weeks! — what it's like to do heavy work you're not used to, and to feel the pangs of hunger. Just think about other people for once, who are having to go without everything. Prove to the town that you've been unjustly maligned, that you can do the decent thing! Tell me where you've hidden the stuff!'

For a moment, Zaches appeared to hesitate, but then he came out with all his protestations and beastly oaths again. The mayor kept on at the former beer wholesaler for another hour. The longer it went on, the more convinced he became that the man had hidden something else away, and possibly a great deal; but he couldn't get it out of him. He was rotten and corrupt to the core. And it made no difference when Doll told him how much trouble he'd be in if they did find something. Then the dairy would just have to manage without him; he would be thrown into a black hole and kept on bread and water, and they'd make him work all day long, lugging heavy sacks of grain. ‘You wouldn't survive that for long, Zaches, all bloated with alcohol as you are! And I gather you have diabetes, too! You'll probably end up paying for this futile lie with your life!'

But it was no use: no amount of persuasion could get the man to reveal his hiding place. He sat on his hoard like a malevolent little hamster, and would rather be beaten to death than give it up. A wasted hour behind him, Doll shrugged his shoulders and had the man escorted back to the dairy. He didn't doubt for a moment that this hiding place existed, quite possibly stuffed with very valuable goods. And then, with a hundred other matters to attend to, the mayor gave no more thought to the beer wholesaler.

Just how large and well stocked the hoard in question was, Doll learned only a few days later from his police constable. ‘You should get along to Seestrasse, Mr. Mayor, and see for yourself what the Russians are loading up from the cellar of Zaches' place!'

‘Is that right?' replied Doll, acting all indifferent, although his heart was already aching with grief and anger. ‘So they've found his hiding place, have they? I always knew there was one, as soon as I started questioning the man. I thought I might go and poke around over there myself, but I never got round to it …'

‘You wouldn't have found it anyway', said the police constable by way of consolation. ‘Zaches bricked up an entire coal cellar over a year ago — those Nazis, it just goes to show you again how deeply they believed in their precious Führer's victory! But nobody would have found this hiding place — someone spilled the beans, of course.'

‘Who was that?' asked Doll.

‘A servant girl who used to work for Zaches. She thought the Russians would let her have some of it, of course. But they told her to get lost — they've got their own views about informers like her!'

But when Doll learned in the course of the day how large had been the stockpile of goods stashed away by this lowly, rank-and-file member of the National Socialist German Workers' Party, he was overcome with anger again, and he gave orders for Zaches to be fetched from the dairy there and then.

‘Well, Zaches!' he said to the fellow, who knew everything by now, of course, since news like that travels fast in a small town. ‘Your storehouse has been busted, and how many days ago is it since you were standing right there and swearing on your mother's life that you hadn't hidden anything away?! You've been lying through your teeth!'

Zaches said nothing; he stood there with bowed head, his gaze wandering back and forth, but never looking the mayor in the face. ‘Do you realise how much damage you've done to the town and to all Germans everywhere?!' And the mayor began to list the haul: ‘One van packed with tobacco, cigars, and cigarettes. Two vans filled with wine and schnaps — and those are all goods that have been stolen from the German people, because they were supplied to you for distribution to the trade. But you just lied about it, of course, and claimed you hadn't received any deliveries, and kept it all for yourself instead, true to the good old Party principle: private greed before public need!'

Looking even more sallow and ashen than usual, the man just stood there and let the tide of anger wash over him, saying nothing in reply. ‘But that's not even all of it', said Doll, and went on with his list. ‘One van full of linen — and I don't have a single sheet, a single towel, left for the hospital. Five large wireless sets, three typewriters, two sewing machines, one sun lamp — and a whole van full of clothing and other stuff. Shame on you, you degenerate, for betraying your own people like that. I can't believe all the stuff you've stolen and hoarded!'

Doll was getting more and more angry as he looked at the man, his impassive silence driving him to distraction. The time before, he had not succeeded in getting any reaction out of him, any sign of human feeling, and it was just the same this time.

‘And another thing', Doll went on, collecting himself again, ‘hasn't it occurred to you how much damage you have done to whatever might be left of Germany's reputation! If I have to go cap in hand to the town commandant because I've run out of food again for the babies, the tuberculosis patients and the seriously ill, or because I can't allocate any beds for the hospital, do you know what they'll say to me? “Mayor must go find himself! Germans still have everything, only hidden! All Germans lie and deceive. Mayor, go find!” And do you know what? The Russians are right! How are they supposed
not
to think that, when they find something like they did at your place, you scumbag?! And now hundreds of people will carry on freezing, because you didn't speak up at the right time, you scumbag!'

It was at this point that the man who had been hauled before him and berated opened his mouth for the first and only time, and what came out was a classic piece of National Socialist thinking, which perfectly exemplified the mindset of Party members: ‘I
would
have told the mayor about my hiding place if he had let me keep a share of the stuff, however small …'

Mayor Doll stood there motionless for a while, shocked by this shameless display of heartless egoism, which was not in the least bit troubled by the sufferings of others, just as long as it didn't have to suffer itself. And he was reminded of a conversation he had had recently with an adjutant in the town commandant's office. The adjutant had told him how the ordinary rank-and-file soldiers in the Red Army had pictured the German people living much like their own people: frequently enduring abject misery because of the war, facing starvation … That was the only way they could explain the way the Germans had so ruthlessly despoiled the Russian homeland. But then, as their armies advanced, they had entered German territory and seen with their own eyes farming villages amply supplied and provisioned, the like of which simply didn't exist any more back home, cowsheds bursting with well-fed cattle, and a rural population that was healthy and well nourished. And in the solid stone-built houses of these farming families they had found not only huge wireless sets, refrigerators, all the comforts of life, but also, in among these things, cheap, basic sewing machines from Moscow, brightly coloured scarves from the Ukraine, icons from Russian churches, all of it stolen and plundered: the rich man, who had plenty, had robbed the poor, who had nothing. And the soldiers of the Red Army were consumed with rage at these Germans, and felt utter contempt for a nation that had no shame, that could not control its greed, that wanted to grab up everything, possess everything for itself, without caring whether others perished in consequence.

Here was a perfect example of that nation, standing before his mayor. And they were exactly as described — in the end, it was all the same to them whether Russians or Germans perished. The very people whose Party principles put the good of the nation first did not have an ounce of fellow feeling in their bodies. They had an eye to the main chance in everything, and didn't care if thousands perished as long as they got what they wanted. The man who was standing there now was just one of many. Doll told the police constable to take him away and bang him up in jail on bread and water; they'd find someone else to take his place at the dairy. He gave orders for him to be put to work carrying sacks all day long under strict supervision, and with any luck this creature who had betrayed his own people would soon be done for!

With that, the former beer wholesaler Zaches was led away. Doll never saw him again, and never found out what became of him. Shortly afterwards, Doll became seriously ill, the outbreak of his illness brought on, or at least hastened, by this whole episode.

The man had been led away, and the mayor was sitting alone in his office. He was sitting at his desk, his head resting on his hand. He could feel that the anger inside him had completely subsided, and he was filled with a deep, nameless despair. The anger had been easier to bear than this despair, which was devoid of any hope. He suddenly realised that in this despair his hatred, too, had gone. He struggled to recall all the things the Nazis had done to him: years of persecution, arrest, surveillance, threats, countless prohibitions. But it made no difference; he felt no more hatred for them. And he also realised that he hadn't hated them for quite some time now. If he had come across as harsh and abrasive when carrying out these confiscations at the homes of Party members, it was only because he felt duty-bound to act like that. He was slightly shocked to realise that he wouldn't have behaved any differently in the homes of non-Party members. He found them all equally contemptible. He couldn't hate them any more, they were all just vicious little animals — which was exactly how the first Russian soldiers had looked upon him and his wife, and exactly how he now saw the Germans himself — all Germans.

But he was one of those Germans, he was born a German — a word that had now become a term of abuse throughout the world. He was one of them, and there was nothing that made him any better than all the others. It was an old saying, but no less true for that: if you fly with the crows, you'll get shot with the crows. He too had eaten of the bread stolen from nations they had plundered and looted: now it had come back to haunt him! Oh yes, it all made perfect sense: he couldn't hate them any more, for the very good reason that he was one of them. All that was left to him was a feeling of helpless contempt — contempt for himself as much as for anyone else.