The Shadow of War, Jack Murray [story books for 5 year olds TXT] 📗

man doing very serious work ashead of the town police force. Whether by way of conversation or, more likely,interrogation he asked, ‘What are you doing, Manfred?’ The quietness of thevoice was the most unsettling part. His father rarely raised his voice.Instead, it was like a liquid whisper. The sound of it wrapped around your earand invaded your mind, enfolding, compressing and then suffocating it until youscreamed your confession.

‘Ihurt my hand, Father.’

Hisfather stepped forward and looked at his son’s hand. He could see the red weltacross the palm.

‘Howdid this happen?’

Manfredtold him. And then held his breath. He didn’t have to hold it long. Hisfather’s eyes hardened.

‘Comewith me.’

Theypassed Manfred’s mother on their way out from the kitchen. She sensedimmediately the anger in the eyes of her husband. She did not ask any questions, however. Instead, she watched them gointo her husband’s study without comment. The door closed behind them. Shestood in the corridor unsure of what to do.

Thenshe heard the whistling sound of a cane followed by an almost inaudible groan.Another two followed. She continued to stand in the corridor,almost frozen. Following the three lashesof the cane she heard her husband’s voice, barely audible though the thick oakdoor. Manfred’s voice was stronger. It was an apology, but the resentment andthe hatred were clear.

 2

Manfredwalked through the market Platz of Ladenburg the next morning. It felt like hecould have been in the Middle Ages. All aroundwere the bustle and noise and smells of farm and baking. The market was aliveand had been for over an hour. Wagons pulled by carthorses mingled with stallsof vegetables and fruit. Women wearing coifed head dresses of starch and blackribbon, men stamping in buckle boots trying to keep fire and warmth in theirpart of the square. Preposterous outfits, outlandish claims by the stallholders and young children playing hide and seek.

AsManfred walked up to the school gates, he immediately sensed an atmosphere. Thewarmth and the exuberance of the square had been replaced by a chill and thepinched-pain faces of the pupils and teachers.

Itwas the silence, or rather the murmur, that alerted him to the possibility thatsomething was wrong. Huddled groups of children whispered. One teacher wassitting on a bench outside the main building. He seemed to be weeping.

HerrKahn, the physics teacher, brushed past Manfred, barely acknowledging him, ahaunted look on his face. Spotting Erich, he wandered over to his often-time friend,sometime enemy, and asked, ‘Is something wrong?’

Erichlooked at Manfred in surprise and said, ‘You mean you haven’t heard, Manny?’Manfred shook his head.

‘TheReichstag was burned down last night.’

‘So?’asked Manfred, mystified at the reaction to the news around him.

Tobe fair, Erich was no wiser as to what a fire in agovernment building signified, but it was clear something was awry. The twoboys looked around for a few minutes for someone who could enlighten them. Afew fellow pupils shrugged in bemusement.

‘Herr Kahn is over there with Diana Landau. He’ll know,’ saidManfred pointing to the teacher.

Erich laughed grimly, ‘Of course, the Jews, they stick together.’

Manfredglanced at Erich but said nothing. They walked over to Herr Kahn. Manfred said,‘I apologise, Herr Kahn, if we are interrupting, but we were wondering whyeveryone is in despair this morning. What has thisgot to do with the fire?’

Diana looked at Manfred and then up at the teacher, ‘Thank you,Herr Kahn. Excuse me.’

Manfred was disappointed she’d left, a fact noticed by Herr Kahn.

‘Don’t worry, I had finished talking to Fraulein Landau anyway,’replied Kahn although Manfred did not entirely believe him.

‘So, you want to know why there is, shall we say, an atmosphere?’ Both boys nodded. Kahnlooked at them thoughtfully and continued, ‘Well, you know about the fireobviously. It seems our leader is blaming the communists for starting it. Thismay or may not be the case. There are certainly other possible causes.’

‘Suchas?’ pressed Manfred.

Kahnsmiled again, and said, ‘Well, there we come to the other thought. Thegovernment, and by that, I mean the National Socialists, may use this fire toimplement some of the policies that they have been wanting to do for a whilenow. This may result in a curtailment of some civil liberties. I’m onlyspeculating, you understand, but it is a possibility.’

Manfredthought for a moment. The implication of Herr Kahn’s statement was abundantlyclear. He looked at the teacher and asked, ‘Do you think the NationalSocialists were responsible?’

Thesmile slowly faded from Kahn and he became very solemn, ‘I think it best, HerrBrehme, that such thoughts are left unsaid, even among friends. I think classesare starting soon. Go to your class, boys.’

Manfredand Erich watched him go and then looked at one another.

‘Prettyclear what the Jew thinks anyway,’ said Erich dismissively. Manfred laughed.

‘Yes,but we should do as he says, though. C’mon, let’s go.’

Thetwo boys hurried off to class and no more mention was made of the fire fromthat day forward in the school.

Nomention was made, either, when one of the teachers, Herr Fischer, a teacherknown to have sympathies with the communist party, did not return to theschool. A veil of silence descended on any discussion about politics. Nomention was made of the disappearance that evening in the house as Manfred andhis family ate in silence.

Aroundnine in the evening, Manfred went up to his bedroom. He sat on the bed and readfor a while. Suddenly he heard a noise at his window. He looked towards it andthen back down to his book. It came again. He rose from the bed and went overto the window. Pulling back the curtain, he saw Erich down below, with someother boys. He opened the window.

‘Whatare you doing?’ he whispered loudly.

‘Come on.’ said Erich, motioning with his arm.

‘Where?’ replied Manfred, mystified. ‘It’s late.’

‘Come on, we’re having fun.’

‘I can’t. My father will kill me if I sneak outside,’ pointed outManfred in a loud whisper.

‘Growup,’ sneered Erich, about to turn away.

Thegauntlet had been thrown down. Grow up. He’d just turned twelve. Suchchallenges could not go unanswered. Yet, he also feared his father. Obediencewas everything in his family.

‘Give me a minute,’ said Manfred reluctantly. A few momentslater, Manfred climbed out of the window and down to the front garden.

‘What’s going on?’ he