The major and mayor looked at me for a second and nodded in agreement to my aforementioned question. I looked more intently at the major, I had recognized him in a heartbeat after stepping off the plane, his delay in recognizing me had me a bit perplexed and disheartened, I had known him for forty three years of my life. I had known the mayor also, but he was a much younger person than either the major or I. His youth had awarded him to the position of mayor of this town. His unquestioning arrogance growing up as a young adult in the beginnings of the National Socialism era had corrupted him. From letters I have received, I had understood that the current mayor was much worse than the previous mayor. In retrospect, it felt kind of ironic standing in front of the former mayor turned major of the Volksstrum and the current mayor of the town.
I had kind of been waiting to elicit more than a response from the two figures, and was pleased after the awkward moments of silence that had transpired, when the major began to speak. “Tristan,” he began at first. “Is that really you?”
I smiled. “Yes, brother, yes it is me.” I said with great pride and joy while displaying a calm quiet demeanor. It had been a great many months since I had last seen Josef, December 13th, 1943 to be precise. The date of my arrival back home on Norddeich occurred August 17th, 1944. The past few days had felt like an eternity, and I was not fully aware of all the events that had transpired, and would inevitably have to play catch-up to matters that would further strain my attention. But at the current time, that was an entirely different matter and time.
I could notice my brother reexamining what he saw before him. My uniform was impressive compared to his old uniform, one he had in fact I later confirmed to be his Great War uniform, with minor adjustments. The uniform of his men in the Volksstrum were far below the quality of their commander’s uniform. I had witnessed in my brief detour in Berlin, of Goebbels urging the people of all people of society to donate spare clothing to the Volksstrum to assist in the defense of the Fatherland. The drives were mildly successful from what I had heard, given the scarcity of materials for the civilian population. When clothing could not be found, the Volksstrum often wore material from their civilian jobs.
A collection station for clothing for the Volksstrum.
“My, my,” he said after taking the previous nine seconds to be shock and awed by my attire. “My, I can’t believe how far you have come! It is great to see you have not forgotten your roots,” he finished as he came closer, extending his arms to hug me. I matched the motion, and embraced my brother for a dozen seconds. After those seconds passed, my brother released his arms from around my back, and resumed his previous position, much to the relief of the current mayor. I could notice that he seemed distressed, what exactly was causing it I could not pinpoint at the current time.
“It is an honor to see that the Reichsführer can make time out of his busy schedule to visit such a remote destination in the Reich,” the mayor said. I was able to pinpoint the distress in the mayor, he seemed to be jealous, and perhaps frightened that member of the Schnack family had returned with power second only the Führer. I instantly recalled letters that Josef had sent me after the death of father and mother. They had died ten days after I had last visited home. My last memory of mother was calming me after I awoke in a dead sweat in the middle of the night. Her calm demeanor and understanding attitude calmed my nerves that night as she gently rubbed my back easing me back to sleep. No matter my age, I always felt as if I were just six or seven years old around her.
I recall at exactly 1:37 am in the morning of December 23rd, 1943, a young sergeant who I had not yet gotten to know, he was a recent transfer from what I later gathered, urgently walked into my tent and awoke me. He carried a message that had not been encoded. “Tristan, father and mother passed away during their sleep,” it read. I had heard Josef’s voice in the telegraph, and later confirmed in a separate letter to him that he had indeed written those very words. I yearned to be apart of the burial; and fought myself constantly over the next four days about abandoning my duties to return to Norddeich. I continued to battle myself until confirmation arrived on the 27th that they had been buried. Though the pain of not being there did not ease, there was nothing I could humanly do to change my actions.
After the 27th of December, news was sparse from home; the elements had decided to act against us, preventing mail from being delivered from the Fatherland. Finally on January 3rd, 1944, I received a letter from Christina and Josef, both bearing disheartening news. Josef had been removed from office by his deputy, Klemens Schultheiss, an ambitious man eight years younger than he. My brother shared a portion of the speech he had used, noting my brother had displayed a lack of “usefulness and vigor towards total victory.” I obviously could not intercede on my older brother’s behalf, but noted the transgression against our family.
Klemens continued his factious smile towards me. “Herr Mayor,” I said respectfully, after I began to see discomfort in his face due to my lack of response. “I do not appreciate your tone and find it rather disrespectful and laden with treasonous sentiment. The position of Reichsführer is a position that demands the respect, for without the contributions I have performed at this rank, the Reich would be in certain ruin. I am here on the orders of the Führer himself,” I continued as I pulled out a piece of paper from my jackets left breast pocket.
A mere three seconds passed before I pulled the document from in front of his trembling eyes. “I sense the need to repeat myself. The Führer has personally sent me on a very important mission. I expect your utmost cooperation in the matter. There shall be no questions in this matter,” I finished, placing my right arm against the right shoulder of the illegitimate mayor, and brushing past him.