OUT OF THE RUBBLE - 14
Copyright 2004 by Carl Mason
All rights reserved. Other than downloading one copy for strictly personal enjoyment, no part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, except for reviews, without the written permission of the author. Comments on the story are appreciated and may be addressed to the author at carl5de@netscape.net.
This story contains descriptions of sexual contact between a young adult male and young male teenagers. Nevertheless, "Out of the Rubble" is neither a strictly "suck and fuck" exercise nor is it a story that focuses on the "love of adults for the young"...often without sex or with the mere suggestion of sex. If you are looking for these types of erotic fiction, there are fine examples of each on Nifty. Something slightly different is required here.
However based on real events and places, "Out of the Rubble" is strictly fictional. Any resemblance to actual events, or locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Further, this is homoerotic fiction designed for the personal enjoyment of legal, hopefully mature, adults. If you are not of legal age to read such material, if those in power and/or those whom you trust treat it as illegal, or if it would create unresolvable moral dilemmas in your life, please leave. Finally, remember that maturity generally demands that anything other than safe sex is sheer insanity!
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- I am deeply grateful to my friend, Ed C, who has proved to be an absolute gold mine of ideas, in addition to serving as a bulwark of support during the trials - and joys - of writing. Thank you, Ed! /cm ----------------------------------------------------------------------------
PART 14
(Revisiting the End of Part 13)
Two additional notes must be added to the telling of this happy event: First, before he left for Frankfurt, Rolf affectionately hugged his best friend, Andreas, asking him if he would be at all interested in a future dual photo shoot "up at his home." The long dark limousine pulled away from DAS HAUS with a happy young man. Finally, on the next morning, the radiant couple was asked jokingly how they had enjoyed their wedding night. "Well," purred a smiling Gretchen, "if it hadn't been for those crazy boys ringing bells all night in front of our door, I think I might have gotten some sleep!" (Ehrhardt's look did all but shout that sleep had NOT been on his menu!)
(Continuing Our Story : Dance Fantasy)
Following Ehrhardt and Gretchen's wedding, Andreas felt...disturbed. (Even a great Christmas party failed to raise his spirits.) Worse, he felt guilty for feeling that way! After all, Ehrhardt, and now Gretchen, were friends. Clearly, he WANTED them to be happy. The truth remained that he felt somewhat sour...almost cheated...and irritable as a stag in rut! Did you have to be straight to have your friends gather 'round and say, "Yeah, that's great!" and "Yeah, that's RIGHT!"? Was there anything that could top the love that Sam and he felt for each other? Why, then, were all of his friends silent? Slamming his fist against the door in frustration, he snarled, "SCHEISSE!" and strode angrily out of The House.
Aimlessly, he trudged towards town until the cold wind started to freeze the anger out of him. Damn! He should have pulled on a sweater underneath his coat. Suddenly, he found himself in front of the "Teen Club" that had been established by some of the local churches with the support of City Council. Not paying particular heed to anything special, he eyed the posters announcing "Coming Attractions" - and the cute guys and their girls arriving for the evening dance. Everyone seemed so excited...so happy! Feeling his anger beginning to return, he aggressively stomped up the steps and into the hall.
Oh, man, the place was packed! It had to have been an old beer hall - the atmosphere was so fuckin' perfect! A good smell, dim lights, a band whose music was shaking the walls... And how about that big rotating glass ball that seemed to flicker and cast moving, multi-colored lights onto the center of the room where kids were dancing? Wow! While delivering a message for Sam over at the Base, he had once looked through a barracks window and watched soldiers doing those same steps. He accepted a soft drink from one of the church ladies and wandered over to an open table in the far corner of the room. (It was really just flavored water, but it tasted good...different. It cost 5 pfennigs [100 pfennigs = 1 Mark], but it was Germany in the late autumn of 1946. Who was complaining?) Hey! There's Kurt a few tables over! Man, oh man, who's that chick with him? Oh, yeah, that's Heidi from school. Way to go, Kurt! Nothing like showing up with the prettiest and nicest girl in the whole damned school! Seeing that Kurt had spotted him, he waved - and received a wave (and, as the boy put his arm around Heidi's shoulders, a possessive smirk) in return. Heinrich, sitting at Kurt's table with his girl, also waved and received a friendly half-salute in return.
Andreas knew he should have felt good - this was normal...this was the way it was supposed to be - but he didn't. Intensifying his mood, the music began to fade as if caught in a cut from an impressionistic movie, the swirling colored lights began to dim, the movement of the gyrating bodies began to slow, and the bright, friendly faces began turning into something entirely ugly and repulsive. Andreas shook his head violently and the scene returned to some semblance of the expected. Hitching himself back in the chair and sipping on his soft drink, he watched the dancing crowd...and began to fantasize that he was right in there with them - but gettin' HIS fair share. Oh, yeah!
It wasn't that Andreas wanted so much! Was it a crime to want a respectful acceptance by his straight friends? Did he have to fake it as Heinrich was doing over there at Kurt's table? Did stealing a kiss from a girl certify him as a "Real Man"? Did he have to be straight to get a bunch of jocks to put up with the indignities involved in making paper flowers for a House event? My God, he was an top-notch athlete and a fine student, not unlike Ulrich! Ok, so he wasn't the goalie that Dieter#1 was, a towering German oak who could block any ball from anywhere in the stadium, but hadn't he scored more goals than all but two men on the team? And wasn't he one hell of a lot better looking than Horse Face who sat there mooning over Heidi? What was it about him as a homosexual that could lead a City councilman to scream "Schwein-Scheisse! Stinkender Abfall des Teufels! Homosexuelles Ungeziefer!" [Pig Shit! Foul Offal of the Devil! Homosexual Vermin!]? If he had brought Georg or Rolf to the Teen Club as his date - as Kurt had brought Heidi - would he have received the same easy acceptance?
Was it a crime to want as much respect from Sam as that he so easily gave to Ehrhardt? Hadn't he been Sam's "Official Assistant" since he'd arrived in Tieferwald? Ok, so he did a lot of go-fer work, but hadn't he received a scroll from the Council that referred to him as one of the "Heroic German Youths Who Saved Thousands of Their Fellow Citizens"? Even though he didn't have an Iron Cross, wasn't his loyalty to Sam - love aside - undisputed? GOD, HE'D DIE FOR HIM!
Was it a crime to want to jitter-bug with HIS love out on that damned dance floor...under that damned light...to that damned music? Why was it so wrong for him to feel Sam up just as Ulrich was feeling up that blonde? Why was it so sinful for him to reach down and hook the fingers of both hands under Sam's buttocks, drawing him closer...and closer......and closer? Only Ungeziefer [Vermin] nibbled on a nipple? And if the beat really made them horny, why couldn't they dance in the nude? (Why couldn't ANYONE dance in the nude...at least in a slow dance?) He could imagine his arms around his lover's broad back, his chin rubbing lightly against Sam's traps, the feeling of thigh against thigh, the way in which their cocks would become trapped between them...maybe even standing vertically, swollen hard against each other, pressing into the taut flesh of their lower stomachs! That image seemed to shake Andreas out of his trance-like state. In fact, he almost fell out of the chair he had originally tilted slightly against the wall.
Andreas wasn't alone. Another man - short, with weathered skin, bearded, shabbily dressed - sat at the table directly across from him. He seemed to be finishing a drawing, a painting...or something like that. The lad had seen him around town before. He was an old Italian who had been in Germany forever! The Nazis had never put him into a concentration camp - even though he had adamantly refused to conform to the Party's artistic line. (The rumor had been that he had known the wife of an important member of Il Duce's [The Leader, Benito Mussolini's] consular staff in Germany.) He just moved from town to town, club to club, picking up a Mark here and a Mark there.
"Ah, young man," Carlo said in an accent as thick as on the day he had left Sorrento, "perhaps you will like this." The small canvas was amazing! It sure wasn't in the representational/heroic style of painting favored by Hitler, but, damn!, it was Andreas! Or, at least, it was the SOUL of Andreas. And it was an impression of Andreas's face so erotic that even Andreas went hard! He must have been sitting there when Sam's Official Assistant had been fantasizing about thighs against thighs...and swollen lovers' cocks standing hard against each other! Blushing slightly, Andreas gave him a few coins and took the scrap of canvas back to Sam. He would give it to him just before bedtime!
"Whew!" Sam had whistled on inspecting the painting. Then he simply stood up, collared Andreas, and pushed his young lover directly towards their bedroom! Later, still feeling the tingle of Sam's teeth on his foreskin and still enjoying the slightest taste of cum towards the very back of his mouth, Andreas grinned slightly to himself, murmuring, "Wow! Maybe we Vermin have something going for us after all!"
(Enter the White Monster)
All things considered, 1946 had been a pretty good year. True, the reconstruction of buildings hadn't begun, but nearly 75% of the streets in the city were reasonably cleared. Thanks to the massive relief drive, the Relocation Camp's barracks and other facilities had been significantly improved. Citizens had worked long hours to plant small family gardens that yielded goodly amounts of produce from the late spring well into the early fall. As in 1945, the countryside had been scoured for food with full support from the U.S. Army. Thus, the supply of preserved food available in Tieferwald and environs was not insignificant. Added to the slowly increasing supply of relief shipments arriving from America, the food supply appeared to at least be holding its own. Thanks to the Truemmerfrauen [women who removed rubble and reclaimed building materials for salvage] plus the efforts of countless teams of adolescents and children who worked after school in the afternoons, there were also important stores of wood and other substitutes for the region's major fuel, coal. Above all, the morale of the people had gradually risen during the year. Yes, with food shortages, the condition of housing, and the tragic lack of jobs throughout Germany, it was still a very hard life - but there were glimmers of hope.
Unfortunately, the winter of 1946-47 turned out to be one of the most vicious in memory. It began with a mammoth blizzard in late December and early January, and just kept coming. The snow lay in great blankets upon the land; frigid cold - far beyond the usual...or expected - held northern and central Europe in a vise. Even getting to Frankfurt, a trip of only modest proportions, became nearly impossible - as Andreas found out when he had to refuse the Baron's January invitation to come up for the promised joint photo shoot with Rolf. (It was promised that another invitation would be issued as soon as practicable.) As snow and ice clogged roads and rail equipment, transportation staggered and then gradually came to a near halt. Through long spells of the winter, trucks and trains simply didn't move. Given the problems in production, exacerbated by the crisis in transportation, coal became very scarce. For most Germans of that time, coal was the most common fuel, not only for industrial purposes but also for heating homes, cooking, and the like. Unfortunately, it was a very cumbersome commodity - and its transportation demanded the heaviest equipment. Securing a minimal supply became a battle that was simply being lost. Before the weather moderated, the beleaguered City Council discovered it had to order that no more than one apartment room be heated...and that only to the low forties Fahrenheit. Permission eventually had to be given to tear out all but load-bearing wood in buildings - public and private - throughout the city. Not a tree was left standing, not even the lonely tree in back of Sam's House.
Much of the momentum that the citizens of Tieferwald had achieved during the past year disappeared. As supplies decreased precipitously, they had to use the hard-won (but totally inadequate) stores of food and fuel that they had accumulated during the months past. Machinery that had received only passing care during the years when all German industry was devoted to preparing for and waging war broke down with increasing frequency. As military governments had to use their funds to procure these necessities abroad, moneys needed for reconstruction were even further depleted. A vicious cycle was developing that prophesied dire straits for the German people.
Death became a frequent visitor to Tieferwald am Main. In both the city and camp, tens of Germans perished each day from cold and malnutrition, especially from the cold. No one, however concerned, dedicated, or powerful, seemed to be able to halt the downward spiral.
(Epidemic!)
'Tis said that Death never rides alone. Never was that saying more accurate than on the mid Main during January of 1947. The dreaded influenza - the world-wide scourge that accompanied World War I - probably broke out on farms surrounding the city. Nevertheless, it quickly spread to both city and camp and throughout the area as if it were a freezing wildfire.
Never had an area been less prepared for a major epidemic than was Tieferwald. The one remaining civilian hospital and the smaller military facility were completely inadequate to the hordes of people who came in to be checked by a physician. When complications, e.g., bacterial pneumonia, resulted from the highly contagious infection, there was neither room in the medical facilities to admit the severely ill, nor did the weather usually allow them to be transported to Frankfurt or even beyond. Rather, they lay in beds - often the only bed - in bitterly cold rooms that often held from 6-8 other children, teens, and adults. Had it not been for the Military and for the URA that airlifted an emergency shipment including blankets, aspirin and other supplies, many more would have died.
Medical doctors were assembled from as far away as Munich and Cologne. Once they had arrived in Tieferwald - which often proved difficult - they headed teams comprised of civilian adults, soldiers, and teenagers. It was these individuals who carried supplies and medicine (rarely more than aspirin!) to the beds of the sick and, when necessary, helped with their care. The team doctor, supported as professionally as possible by technicians at Tieferwald's medical facilities, handled diagnoses,
Under such primitive conditions, the chances of spreading the infection were very high. All patients commonly suffered from shaking chills, moderate or severe muscle and joint aches and pains, sweating, a dry cough, nasal congestion, sore throat, and headache. In addition, victims commonly complained of moderate or severe malaise and fatigue. Temperatures often reached 104 degrees Fahrenheit (40 degrees Celsius). As infectious respiratory secretions were spread through coughing and sneezing, more and more people fell ill, including care- givers.
The official report stated that of the 47 people who developed severe complications, 46 died. It also stated that a total of 214 people died from causes directly attributable to the flu. (This, of course, didn't include those who died daily from, cold, malnutrition, and other diseases.)
Every boy in DAS HAUS served on a medical team. It was inevitable that not every one would be spared. Several of the boys became quite ill, notably young Horst. Thank God for the way in which Frau Luisa and Gretchen ministered to them. Sadly, the oak-hearted Dieter#1 - the finest goalie in all of Central Germany - gave his life in service to his fellow human beings.
Not long after Dieter#1 lost his battle for life, Sam remembered going into the "hospital room" (his and Andreas's converted bedroom) where Horst lay unconscious, sweating profusely and restlessly tossing to and fro. The young American couldn't stand the pain and his own sense of helplessness. Dammit, it didn't matter whether he caught the flu or not! He loved that kid - and he just wasn't going to be added to the mounds of dead bodies that were doused in kerosene and then cremated! It had already happened once to one of his; it just wasn't going to happen again! Wrapping Horst tightly in blankets, he sat down in his big chair, holding his boy in his arms the whole night through...occasionally drying the sweat off his young forehead with a cool cloth, occasionally humming a sweet New England melody, occasionally brushing the tears from his own eyes. He was such a little guy, a little colt fleeing from the Sudetenland, when Andreas found him in the Steinerwald over a year ago. Gosh, he had grown. Look at his thickening body and those even longer legs that stuck out far beyond the armrest. Look at that hair, as wild and red as ever! The light was showing in the East before he returned the boy to his bed. As he left the room, he thought - oh, Dear God, he HOPED! - that he heard a little mew and a couple of weak squeaks.
Horst recovered. As a matter of fact, on the day of the House's memorial service - for all the victims of this terrible winter, but especially for Dieter#1 - he insisted on being carried downstairs to join his friends. Strangely, it was Kurt who insisted on doing the honors.
The simple service was led jointly by Sam and Ehrhardt. After Sam's benediction, Ehrhardt stood up and asked the boys to remain for just a moment. "I've been hearing some sad things about life in DAS HAUS," he began. "I've been hearing that it matters whether a boy comes from Tieferwald or from Danzig. I've been hearing that it matters whether he has blond hair or brown. I've been hearing that it matters whether he likes girls...or kinda likes boys. I've been hearing that it matters whether he plays football or likes to play the piano. And that's sad. HAVEN'T YOU FIGURED OUT YET THAT WE'RE ALL BROTHERS?! DON'T YOU KNOW YET THAT IT'S NOT ENOUGH JUST TO LIVE AND LET LIVE? WON'T YOU HONOR DIETER BY LOVING AND SUPPORTING EACH OTHER... ALL OF THE TIME...NO MATTER WHAT?" Wiping the tears from his eyes, Ehrhardt abruptly sat down.
(To Be Continued)