Robert Lautner - The Draughtsman

‘41.’ I added nothing else but he was ready to go on.

‘And you have only just found work?’

‘There was not a lot of work about.’

‘Ah. That is true. Did you not think of joining the war? For the time being? That is duty too, no?’

‘I married that year. I thought I would get a job sooner. I thought I would be helping the country by planning fighter craft by now.’

‘As did your wife I’ll bet? Women, eh? Look at me. I am going to the Anger and using up a day’s relief to buy something I do not want. And when I have to work Sunday to make up for it she will complain, eh? Women.’

‘I have only just started work and she has already spent my wage.’

He slapped the wheel and I jumped at his laugh.

‘That is it! That is just so, Ernst! We married men only understand! Look at Klein. No wife, no children. What does he know? Something we do not for sure.’

I did not know Klein was not married. I had assumed so. It bothered me. Unsure why. I thought everyone wanted to be married. Fool. Poor fool in a damp suit again. Riding in a car with an SS captain while Klein was at home fixing himself a bath and a Martini.

‘So, when did you join the Party, Ernst?’

I had forgotten the pin, the proud pin still stuck to my lapel. I looked at it as if a scorpion had appeared there.

I could say that Klein had given it to me. Given it to me for the reason he had said. To make the right impression. But that might get him into trouble. And myself. I had thought of Klein first. I was sure I should not treat a small tin badge with such flippancy. But if I said a year, a time, committed to it, there would be a paper somewhere to confirm. Everything, even my subsistence chits, were stamped with an eagle.

‘Oh. That would have been ’42. I think. To be honest, Captain, I am not political I must confess.’ I tried to say it the way Klein had done. ‘My wife insisted. Thought it would help with my career. They always know what is best for us.’ Now I was being more than the fool. I was playing it. I did not believe such sentiments about Etta. It is just what you say when you ride with an SS officer in his car. Your opinion his opinion.

He laughed again.

‘That is the way! That is the way! Do you have children, Ernst?’

‘No, Captain. But when we have won the war we should think of it.’

‘Exactly. Just so. I have a son. My proudest gift. I envy him the country he will inherit. What is your wife’s name?’

‘Etta.’

‘A good name. My wife’s name is Emma.’ He grimaced. ‘I think it is too English.’

‘Not at all. Where are you shopping in the Anger, Captain?’

He leaned his ear to me. ‘Hmm?’

‘The Anger. For your wife’s birthday.’

‘Oh. Yes.’ He shrugged. ‘I have not thought on it. I have a few hours to waste.’

‘We do not see many SS officers in town. You will be stared at no doubt, Captain.’

He nudged me with his elbow. Like a friend.

‘But I bet I get good service, eh? Now, where do you live for me to drop you?’

I had not thought on this. An SS car to my door. The black and silver pennants flying, the runes on the licence plate, the twitch of curtains along the street. Etta watching from the window.

‘If you drive to the Anger I can walk from there. I do not want to trouble you, Captain.’

‘Nonsense. It is no trouble. None.’ Turned his face to me, eyes off the road. ‘Where do you live, Ernst?’

*

I did not mean to slam closed the door of the apartment. Etta, alarmed, staring at me from the sink as I stood with the door braced at my back.

‘Ernst? Are you all right?’

‘I’m fine.’ I went to the window, threw my hat and coat to the chair.

‘You are home early? Was there a problem at the camp?’

‘No. No problem.’ I looked through the net curtain. The black car still there. ‘But I missed the cafeteria lunch.’

‘That is why you look so pale. I will make a sandwich. What are you looking at?’

The car sat there. No blue smoke from the back. Just sat there. Its flat roof looking up at me.

‘Frau Klein. Landlady patrol again. I had to run in. She was hovering around the door.’ This was partly true. Frau Klein had seen the captain open the car door for me from her ground-floor window. He bowed to me as I passed back his cap.

A slam of a plate, the yell of my name like my mother’s scold.

‘Ernst!’

I spun from the window, sure a rat had run out of a cupboard.

‘Why in hell … why are you wearing that pin?’

I went back to the window. My eye up the street to the Anger, down to the station corner.

The car gone.

I rapped on Klein’s office door. The polite two-tone tap. A congenial pat-pat.

He called me in, sat behind his desk with pen and journal.

‘Good morning, Ernst. You have my notes?’

‘Yes, sir.’ I put the pad to his desk. Eight-thirty and I was already in my white-coat. I think he approved.

‘Sander will bring to your floor some plans for today. I will be chained to my desk, on administration for my labours. Prüfer is back from Auschwitz so we must all jump.’

‘It will be good to see Herr Prüfer again. If I get the chance, sir.’

‘I doubt it.’ He closed his pen. ‘He is in such a mood when he returns.’ He saw that I was waiting. ‘Is there anything else, Ernst?’

I brought out the pin.

‘I return this, sir.’ I placed it on his journal. ‘But I may have created a problem.’

The pin was gone, to his hand, to a drawer.

‘Explain.’

‘Captain Schwarz asked me when I had joined the Party. I did not want to lie … but I fear I have. I did not want to cause you any difficulty.’

‘Ah. I see. No. It is my fault. I did not think on it. A natural question. But it is fine that you concerned yourself, Ernst. About me. But do not worry. I have been a Party member since ’38. Schwarz knows this.’

‘But I thought … You said you were not a member? The pin just for impression?’

He went back into his chair.

‘No. I said I was not political. The badge is useful. Being in the Party is useful. I thought it would help you to wear it.’

‘But I have lied to him?’

‘I appreciate your concern. But do not think, Ernst, that SS captains spend their days trawling over paperwork checking up on junior members of staff of a factory. I should hope he is far too busy. As am I.’ He opened his pen.

‘I thought to let you know. He did ask. And I did lie. To an SS officer.’

‘I thank you for that. Your motives were for me and the company. Very good, Ernst. I am sorry you were inconvenienced. Please forgive me. I acted in your interest.’

‘I will not get into trouble?’ I changed my angle on that. ‘I would not wish to embarrass the company.’

‘No. You are right to tell me. If Schwarz should call I can explain.’

Call. If Schwarz should call.

‘I told him that I only joined at my wife’s insistence. That I was not active.’

‘So you are being too concerned. Get to your desk, Ernst. Do not worry. I can control my own department. Thank you for your help yesterday.’ His pen to his journal.

I bowed and left. Sweat in my palms.

*

Yesterday, explaining the badge to Etta, had not gone well. I tried to pass it off. As nothing. A small thing.

‘Herr Klein gave it to me.’ I plucked the pin from my jacket, pocketed it. ‘To make a good impression in the camp. For appearances sake. It is nothing.’ I moved away from the window.

‘It is something. You wore that in the street?’

‘No. I came from the car and straight in.’

‘Car?’

I needed a cigarette. The papers and tobacco pause enough.