Blood Brothers (19 page)

The inmates are already in their dormitories; Willi and Ludwig are taken in to see the director right away. The potentate first looks at the returned boys in silence. He seems to have it in for Willi in particular, since it was Willi who had given Herr Friedrich his beating. He lights a cigar, and addresses Willi: “You know, Kludas, that there’s a case pending against you for assault?” “Director, sir, you are not entitled to call me ‘
Du.
’ I will only give you a reply if you address me appropriately. In six months’ time I will be twenty-one,” Willi says with all the restraint he can muster, but the undertone of his speech is unmistakable. “Well, there’s a thing, the little lad here wants to be called ‘
Sie
’! My two layabouts!” Furiously the director shoots up out of his chair, and bangs his cigar down into the ashtray. “What were you up to in Berlin?
Don’t tell me, you were thieving and whoring. And I’m to call you
‘Sie’
for that? Would you mind telling me what you lived on, without papers? You, Ludwig, have been gone for almost two years, and you over four months.”

“Look in our files if you want to know. It’s all in there, sir. We worked honestly. And Willi even put by a hundred and fifty marks!” Ludwig pouts. Willi won’t say anything, but the corner of his mouth is twitching menacingly. The director will have seen what’s going on with him. “I’ll read the report from Berlin, everything else will be decided in the morning.” He rings the bell. The teacher Friedrich appears. “Herr Friedrich, your special friend Kludas here is to go in dorm one, and Ludwig in dorm two.”

Dormitory one is apparently fast asleep. No sooner has the sound of Friedrich’s footfall echoed away, though, than things get going: “Willi, Willi! They managed to nab you! Willi, when are you going to do a bunk next? Willi, I reckon Friedrich is due for another going over, will you help?” The questions hail down on Willi. White nightshirts cluster round his bed; four perch on the right side of his bed, four more on the left, two stand by the head, and another four at the foot. “Willi, where did you go? Tell us all about it! What’s Berlin like? Were there girls? Have you got a smoke? Go on, Willi, spill the beans! Where’d you get that silk scarf from? Look at that, Fritz, the fine gent’s suiting, and the overcoat.” And Willi talks. He talks about his escape. How, instead of waking up in Berlin, he found himself just outside Cologne. He recalls Franz, his good friend the tramp, and describes the death ride under the express train.

The boys listen with bated breath. They are with him every step of the way. They are fighting at his side, fighting
for their freedom. How Willi finally arrived in Berlin, the terrible first few days that followed. Then the meeting with Ludwig. He doesn’t mention the Brothers. How he and Ludwig got lucky, and started making a bit of money. Till an unknown party denounced them to the police. He must have been a real bastard, they are all agreed on that. “Well, six more months. Then I’m out of here,” Willi ends his account. Of course he doesn’t say anything about his compact with Ludwig either. There are spies everywhere, like Blaustein. He asks after Blaustein. “Blaustein? They let him go. He was the governor’s pet canary, after all.” That night, not much sleeping gets done in dormitory one. The boys lie awake in their beds, and relive Willi’s adventures for themselves.

“That’s why I’d like to ask you to leave Kludas relatively unscathed, gentlemen. I’d really prefer not to have to go through crisis after crisis during the few months the lout is still with us. He’s completely out of control, I could tell that right away yesterday. Why go to such lengths over such antisocial elements? He’ll be up before the court soon enough in connection with the Friedrich case. Let’s hope he gets put away for a few months, and then we’ll hardly have him here at all. At any rate, I intend to give him such a character witness as to exclude any possibility of probation. That’s it, gentlemen.” The director calls the meeting to a close.

At first, Willi and Ludwig don’t get much chance to talk undisturbed. A teacher always breaks them up immediately: “What are you two conspiring about?” Four weeks pass of the usual constant trot. Any stirrings of individuality are brutally crushed. There are no exceptions, everyone has to do as the institution says. Why treat them as individuals? When they leave, all they’ll do is go on the state anyway.

One day, Willi is sent the charge sheet from the juvenile court. Actual bodily harm. Ten days later, two masters accompany him to court. He is the only accused, none of the other identities could be established. Herr Friedrich gives evidence, and refers to “chronic impairments of health that are still with me today.” The headmaster gives the court his sense of Willi’s character. Willi is rough, stubborn, and violence is his element. He represents a constant danger to the institution.

“Accused, do you at least feel any remorse for your ugly action?” asks the judge. “Do you want me to tell the truth, Your Honor?” “Why, naturally!” “Your Honor, I don’t. Herr Friedrich tormented us too much,” says Willy, cutting himself off from any possibility of a lighter sentence. His outspokenness is very much to the headmaster’s liking. Now he can be sure of getting shot of the boy. “…  I therefore call for a sentence of three months in prison. Further, I would like to ask expressly that the accused — whose coarseness bears out the headmaster’s account of his character — be denied probation,” argues the prosecutor, incensed.

“The accused is sentenced to two months. The court was not able to find any mitigating circumstances, seeing as the accused expressly stands by his actions.”

Willi’s punishment begins three weeks later.

By the time Willi has served his term in prison and is returned to the care of the institution, he’s just three weeks and two days from his twenty-first birthday. Three weeks and two days till freedom! It’s getting to be time to make a detailed plan with Ludwig. During a free period one afternoon, they’re strolling across the yard together. “Ludwig, I’m going to go straight back to Ma Bauerbach’s in Berlin, and sell those shoes we’ve got left. They’ll bring in at least twenty-five
marks. We’ve still got a hundred and fifty, comes to one hundred and seventy-five. The following day I’ll come back here, I’ll rent a bicycle and I’ll wait for you at 8 p.m. You go over the wall, and we rush into town on the bicycle, give it back, and take the next train to wherever it’s going. Just to get out of the area. And then we go to Berlin. When they let me go here, I’ll get one free ticket to Berlin. The return here, and tickets for us both to Berlin will cost about sixty marks. That will leave us with about a hundred. But that’s okay, we’ll earn it back, in Berlin. How’s that sound to you, Ludwig?” Ludwig looks at his friend who, on his account, is prepared to live unregistered with him, wanted by the authorities. “Okay, Willi.” They shake on it.

The day before Willi’s departure, they iron out the last few details: where Willi will be waiting with the bicycle, what time Ludwig is going over the wall. The headmaster asks to see Willi when he is released. “Here’s your money, one hundred and fifty marks. Here’s a ticket to Berlin. And now, Herr Kludas, all that remains is for me to hope that you may still one day become a useful member of society. Goodbye.” “Bye.”

A June day, lovely and succulent, greets Willi. And Willi greets it back; but his greeting to freedom, his drowning in the incomparably lovely summer’s day, is brief and rushed. Quick, off to the city, mustn’t miss the train. Pleased? Sure, Willi’s pleased. But there’s still someone else stuck inside, namely Ludwig, and he wants to get out and feel free as well. First he wants springing. Once they’re both safely back in Berlin, then there’s all the time in the world to relish their situation. Hurry, hurry. Don’t fret, Ludwig. I’ll be there for you.

There’s the express standing there. No, no need to crawl under the wood wool this time. On the train is cushier than
underneath. Let’s go, driver! What are we waiting for? Ludwig wants to eat pea soup at Aschinger’s!

Berlin: Anhalter Bahnhof. A huge human wave spills out of the boiling-hot compartments, floods the platform, greets and is greeted, calls for porters, blubs happily into handkerchiefs, and surges noisily into the station hall. There is still a little daylight, and Askanischer Platz is flashing in the light of electric suns, and the bubbling of advertisements. A summer evening, warm but not too warm. People are in less of a hurry than usual. The air is pleasantly tiring, women and girls rest softly and warmly in the embraces of men.

What do I care about all this, thinks Willi. Got to get myself to Mother Bauerbach’s, Ziethenstrasse, Neukölln. Maybe she’ll let me sleep there, if she’s not re-let the room. Tomorrow morning, bright and early, flog shoes, then run back to the train. Ludwig will be waiting tomorrow at eight.

In Ziethenstrasse the “To Let” sign is hanging out. “Evening, Frau Bauerbach.” “Oh, it’s you, Herr … Herr …” “My actual name is Kludas, Frau Bauerbach.” “I thought you were …” “Freed, Frau Bauerbach, freed. Here’s the stamp to prove it. And I’m now adult.” Among Berlin landladies, Frau Bauerbach is such a rare specimen she probably deserves to go in a museum. Anyone else would have slammed the door in the convict’s face. Frau Bauerbach asks and asks away and she cries a nice little tear when she learns that Ludwig is still looking at a whole year in the institution. “Would it be all right if I stayed the night here? I’ll take out the shoes tomorrow, and then I’ll be on my way.” “But of course, Herr Kaiweit … Herr … Kludas, of course.”

At eight o’clock the next morning, Willi is with the dealers, hawking his shoes. Why is it so long since he was last
round, he is asked. “Been sick, master, been sick. First I had measles, then I went away as a journeyman,” Willi lies smoothly. “But now we’ll be back, regular-like. What will you give me for the whole lot?” “For everything? I’m not sure I want it. Let’s have a look.” “What about thirty marks,” suggests Willi. In the end he gets twenty-eight, which he is very happy with.

What’s the time now? Just a bit to eat, then back to Mother Bauerbach’s, to pick up his baggage and say goodbye. Then leave the suitcase at the station, and get on the express. Ludwig will be trembling with impatience. You reckon I might not make it? That’s all you know, chum! Hope I can get a bike in that dump.

He does. “What’s the deposit on a bicycle?” “Fifty marks.” “Got it here. Can I have a receipt …? Now, I aim to be back in three hours.” He gets on the old boneshaker and sets off in Ludwig’s direction. It’s getting to be time. Ludwig will be sniffing to see if the coast is clear. Get on over the wall, Ludwig! I’m on my way! Come on, come on! The bike’s going nicely … Cut through the village, and then the borstal heaves into sight. Come on … come on! There at the back, under the clump of trees, that’s my spot. Stand the bike against the tree, ready to go. Look out for Ludwig …

Here he comes! He’s running! Look at him go! He’s racing … and racing! “Ludwig!” “Willi!… Willi!” The tears are streaming down his cheeks. “Get on the luggage rack, Ludwig! You ready?” “Yup.” “Okay! Go, go, go!” “Willi …” “Save it for later, I need to pedal!” And push … and push …

“There’s your bike back, chief. Went like a dream …” The station. When’s the next train? It’s eight-oh-… In six minutes. Wrong direction. Who cares? Get out of here. They’ve got the
compartment to themselves. “All aboard!” “Here you go, Ludwig, ciggy to chomp on.” Rat-ta-ta-TA, rat-ta-ta-TA … They have to spend the night in the place the train ends up. They eat dinner in a simple restaurant, raise a glass to health and happiness, and then go to sleep. Early next morning, there’s a train to Berlin.

And then it’s Anhalter Bahnhof again. Once again, they spend the night in a small hotel, and propose to look for a room the next day in the area of Görlitzer Bahnhof. They will claim to be the Kludas brothers; no hope of any police registration, of course. Too bad, really, Ma Bauerbach was such a nice landlady … On Wiener Strasse they find something suitable. A half-deaf tailor, another basement flat. The room is so big that they can use a corner of it as a workshop. “How much is the room for the two of us?” they yell into the tailor’s ear. The old fellow doesn’t want much. Eight marks a week. And Herr Kratochvil has no objection to their profession as boot-buyers. They go back to Anhalter Bahnhof and pick up Willi’s suitcase and their gear. Of course, Ludwig has had to leave his clobber in the institution. “We’ll buy new stuff,” Willi comforts him. They spend the day straightening up the room and setting up the workshop. In the evening they sit up for a long time in their new home, wondering which streets they will go to tomorrow, to relieve them of their old footwear.

20

COMPREHENSIVELY POWDERED
with the fine dust of country roads, hungry and thirsty and falling-over tired, a young lad slinks along Linienstrasse at midnight, turns down Rücker, and slopes into the Klause.

It’s Fred, who seven months ago was picked up in Magdeburg, along with Jonny and Frenchy Felix. The juvenile court in Magdeburg sentenced Fred — who had no prior convictions — to eight months in prison. Then he was taken to the Berlin authorities. For a car theft. He was suspected of being involved in many other crimes. But, in Berlin, Fred had a great stroke of luck. The people in Leipzig who had watched Fred weren’t able to maintain with hundred percent certainty that this was the man who delivered that car to the garage. Since Fred denied everything, had seen Jonny but didn’t know him, and had never been a member of any gang, the court had to acquit him for lack of evidence. Thereupon the court in Magdeburg gave him half his sentence off on probation. Fred did four months and was then shipped on to a juvenile detention center outside Berlin.

From his first day there, Fred thought of nothing but getting out. It took him two months before he could. And now, back in Berlin, he is looking for his gang, for the Brothers.
There’s no one in the Rückerklause. The place is almost empty. The regulars are dotted about the woods and lakeshores around Berlin. Only when their tummies rumble do they visit the city and spend a day or two scrounging food. No Blood Brothers at Schmidt’s on Linienstrasse either. Finally, in Max’s next door, there’s Konrad on his tod with an orangeade. “Hey, Konrad …” “Fred …! Fred! Where’ve you sprung from?” Fred picks up Konrad’s glass and empties it. “Where from? What do you think, I made a break for it!” “From jug?” “No, welfare. Have you got funds, Konrad? I’m starving …”