Hans Hellmut Kirst - Officer Factory

“Foul!” cried Cadet Hochbauer, springing to the Captain's defense at once.

Cadet Weber (Christian name: Egon) was a broad, burly fellow, as solid as a well-made piece of furniture. Panting heavily he now pushed his way forward, laboring somewhat with a sense of insult, for he too had his ambitions as a sportsman.

“How would you know what was foul," he said to Hochbauer, “since you don't know what's fair?"

For a moment it seemed as if Hochbauer was going to spring at him. But then he looked across at the Captain, who, though still nursing his head, was not prevented from doing what he conceived to be his duty as a sportsman.

“Weber," said Captain Ratshelm severely, ”no arguing while the game's in progress. You're sent off!"

“Greetings, fellow sportsmen," said Cadet Weber, trotting over to Rednitz and Mösler. “Have you heard? I've been sent off. Not a bad trick for getting a spell of rest, eh? I'm going to patent it."

“I’m afraid," said Cadet Mösler, “that if your friend Hochbauer has to choose between you and the Captain there's little doubt where his choice will lie."

“Who cares?" said Weber indulgently. “The main thing is I managed to catch Ratshelm a crack on the head—all in the spirit of the game of course—and I've earned myself a breather as a result."

“All the same," Rednitz reminded him, “Hochbauer did say it was a foul."

“He’s right too," said Weber, quite unabashed. “I have no hesitation in playing foul in that sort of game, but I'm not going to admit it to those bastards."

This was typical of Cadet Weber (Christian name: Egon), whose imperturbability and disarming frankness allied to a bulldog-like temperament made him the least vulnerable of men. With such a remarkably thick skin he could count himself a useful soldier.

“What about a go with the medicine ball?" he suggested.

Mösler and Rednitz agreed—medicine ball was easily the best way of avoiding trouble; it kept one warm without requiring any effort, rather like the friendly sort of games that children play.

The three cadets retired from the game of handball altogether, without anyone noticing them. Ratshelm was still in the thick of things, playing with great abandon and setting an example which he felt sure everyone else would follow. He didn't exactly suffer from a sense of inferiority.

“Heard the latest?" Cadet Weber asked.

“What’s that?" asked Rednitz with a smile. “Apart from the fact that your friend Hochbauer thinks you don't play fair."

“Oh hell," rejoined Weber good-naturedly,” I know you can't stand Hochbauer, but I can't think why!"

“You know quite well why," put in Rednitz.

“My dear fellow," said Weber calmly,” my sole purpose here is to survive the course, not to go around awarding people marks for character. As far as I'm concerned, anyone here can be as pure or sink as low as he likes—all I care about is becoming an officer. To hell with everything else!"

Rednitz smiled. He picked up a medicine ball and threw it across to Mösler. Their evasive action was already under way.

“Well," asked Mösler, “what’s new on the Rialto?"

“Something pretty big!" Weber assured him. Rednitz looked at him curiously, and he added: “Or so it seems to me. It looks as if the women have got out of hand!"

“That’s nothing new," said Mösler speaking as an expert,” but which particular women do you mean?"

“Those here in the barracks!“ said Weber. “It’s said they're rushing about naked all over the place."

“Only in the showers, surely," said Rednitz. “Where else?"

"You may well ask! “Said Weber.” In the basement of staff headquarters—in the communications center, I'm told. Rows of them. Three at least, if not five. No one's safe, they say. Further information later. Makes you think, though, doesn't it, fellows?"

“Man!" said Cadet Mösler with something like solemnity. “This seems to demand a maximum effort on our part. I suggest the formation of a raiding party for to-night!"

“Carry on without me, fellows!" Captain Ratshelm called out to his cadets.

“We’ll manage," Cadet Hochbauer assured him. “Thanks to you, sir, we can't lose." And several of the cadets nodded enthusiastically.

Captain Ratshelm had scored enough points. His companions had the right to score too, and he wasn't the man to spoil their fun. Besides, he was feeling rather tired. He was panting hard and had a slight stitch in his right side—life at the front, it seemed, had taken its toll on him. He withdrew to the rear—not far enough to disturb Cadets Mösler, Weber and Rednitz, but far enough away to be able to watch Cadet Hochbauer.

In Ratshelm's eyes Cadet Hochbauer was the very model of what an officer should be. He already possessed an outstanding personality, and his mind was alert and precise. He had plenty of energy and endurance, and was both keen, resourceful and respectful. In short, this fellow Hochbauer was endowed with all the qualities of a born leader of men. The inevitable callousness of youth would fine down in time, and his idealism, which was rather lacking in sophistication at the moment, would learn to make the unavoidable compromises.

Ratshelm paused to look across at the two other sections, G and I, where a familiar sight met his eyes. Lieutenant Webermann was circling his flock of cadets with the tireless energy of a sheepdog; Lieutenant Dietrich on the other hand had so positioned himself that he could take in all his cadets at a glance. They used different methods but achieved the same result, keeping their cadets on the move without setting any particular example themselves. This was why they were wearing thick track suits, whereas Ratshelm, stripped for action, was a true sportsman and a fitting companion for the cadets.

Thinking along these lines, Captain Ratshelm suddenly noticed that it was extremely cold in the gym. He was even shivering himself, so he decided to order a run round the hall.

He beckoned the section senior over to him and said: “Kramer—in five minutes we'll bring the games to an end and finish with a general run."

"Hear that?" said Cadet Mösler to his friends Rednitz and Weber. “They’re off on the Idiot's Handicap in five minutes. They can leave us out, though, eh?"

This went without saying. A run round the hall wasn't for old soldiers like them. This wretchedly taxing marathon trot was part of the Captain's basic routine, the principal item in his act, in fact. Captain Ratshelm stood in the center of the ring, while they all trotted round him for at least fifteen minutes on end.

To avoid this, Cadets Mösler, Weber and Rednitz went up to Kramer, the cadet who at present held the post of section senior, and Mösler said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world: " Kramer, we'll see to the equipment—all right?"

“What, again?" demanded Kramer irritably. “All three of you? You three always want the cushy jobs! I won't stand for it indefinitely, you know; people will start asking questions."

“If that's all they start asking questions about," said Rednitz amiably,” you can count yourself lucky."