CASTLE MARGARETHEN - 7
Copyright 2004 by Carl Mason and Ed Collins
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 authors. Comments on the story are appreciated and may be addressed to the authors at edcwriter@yahoo.com
However based on real events and places, "Castle Margarethen" is strictly fictional. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Most of the story takes place in Nazi Germany during the year 1943. Further, the major characters are members of the SS, most young, a few older. We explore their motivations and mixed feelings as human beings for whom the Fuehrer's message was truth. At the same time, however, your authors would make clear their condemnation of the Nazi ideology and atrocities committed by the Schutzstaffel (the SS). Indeed, we condemn ALL organizations, ideologies, and individuals who do harm to humanity and restrict the growth of the human spirit.
This story contains descriptions of sexual contact between adult males and male teenagers. As such, it 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!
CHAPTER 7
(Revisiting Chapter 6)
On returning from the party, the evening ended...strangely. They should have been on high, but they just weren't. It was as if all of the tension that had built up over the last few days suddenly weighed heavily on each and every member of the company...and at the same time. (Almost everyone commented upon it the next day.) The result was a pervasive sense of emotional exhaustion, much the same as had gripped Eugen that afternoon. They fulfilled their bedtime sex obligation. There was scarcely a lad, however, for whom this was enough to relieve the great tension that had built up in their bodies and minds. Not even Jens was satisfied! The schedule...the relative isolation in the castle...the sexual demands...the troubles between Squads 2 and 4...the no rules fight...the film and the emotional singing of the "Horst Wessel Lied"...even the wild party... The result of all this was entirely predictable. Almost every member of the company ended the day by wildly beating off. With the giant explosions of cum that drained their balls and their demons, the worst of the tension passed. The young men were again ready to proceed towards mastering their new assignment.
(Continuing Our Story: A Change of Pace)
Physical Conditioning
Knowing what was coming, Sergeant Krupke's class the next morning was devoted to a long series of flexibility and stretching exercises. For example, he would bark something like, "Heads up. Listen and follow! Place one leg forward, while your knee of the other leg is resting on the floor. Good! Now, without changing the position of the knee on the floor or the forward leg, lower the front of your hip downward. Hold for 30 seconds!" (Pause) "Good!" Unlike the other exercises in which they had been engaging, most of these new exercises were pretty simple...in and of themselves. (Oh, there were exceptions such as the "High Kicks" and the "Mule Kicks," but there weren't many of those.) The real problem was that they just went on forever! The good Sergeant had stretching and flexibility exercises for the lower limbs, the shoulders, the torso, the lower back...even for the wrists and forearms! Moreover, each soldier was to permanently incorporate at least three or four of these exercises into his daily exercise regimen. You will guess that by the time the squad struggled towards the showers, every man was feeling like something between a rubber band and a limp noodle!
Sex Instruction
Sergeant Burmann grinned at Piet as Second Squad marched smartly into his classroom. "How did that butt plug work?" he asked the Big Dutchman. "Great, Sergeant! It really helped open me up. Can I get a #3 later in the day? "Yes...same time, same place," Berman retorted. "Ok, men, move it! Be seated! We've only got a half hour before something very different happens!" The boys noted that six tables had now appeared in the room - and wondered what was up.
"Your first major examination takes place the day after tomorrow. Do I need to tell you to appear with your body absolutely clean and hairless and your hair shampooed? That also means clipping and cleaning your nails and taking a full enema that morning. Questions?" the Sergeant asked. Hearing none, he continued.
"Ok, today's work is a little gut check. Thus far, you've been working with squad mates and a few other friends. Generally speaking, they've respected the troubles you've been having adjusting to having sex with males...because they've been having the same damned problems. Over the next hour and a half, however, the situation is going to be a lot more like the conditions you will encounter in the field. Men are going to come to this room in three groups. You may not know many of them personally. In any case, they've been ordered to act as if they don't know you. In half-hour segments, one man from each group is going to come over to your table and tell you what he wants. Remembering everything you've learned in this class, you will give it to him. You've got about five minutes. Get yourself lubed up...just in case.
Promptly at 1030 hours (10:30 am), Leif, the big, tough-as-nails leader of First Squad pounded on the classroom door and entered with his troops. Laughing and cracking some raw jokes about homos, they walked over to the tables as Sergeant Burmann watched. "Here's a pretty boy," he chortled, as he stood beside the table on which Eugen was sitting. Grabbing his genitals, he sneered, "Not bad... Turn over, queer, spread your legs, and get your ass up into the air!" Eugen scrambled quickly to do as he had been told. Leif jumped up on the table and simply TOOK him. There was no opening him up, no lubing him, no varying his strokes, or reaching underneath to fondle his genitals. There wasn't word one about how he was doing. He just slapped him hard on the butt and his back a few times...and RAPED him. When he came, he simply wiped his cock off on Eugen's butt, jumped down off the table, and walked over to Sergeant Burmann as he had been commanded. (Burmann quietly asked him if rape were the best approach to continuing a program designed to give men a little physical relief in the field. Leif flushed and went over to sit on a chair by the door.) As each of the other five men finished, he had a few words with Burmann.) As they departed, he growled, "Eugen, Nils, and Klaus! Did you check your men to see if they had any visible signs of sexual disease? And Piet - if looks could kill, your man would have been stone dead! Didn't you learn anything about making it look like the greatest thing that had ever happened to you? All of you, get yourselves together! You'll have another customer in...four minutes!" The boys scrambled to lube themselves heavily, to use some of the stretching exercises Sergeant Krupke had shown them - and to get over the shock. It wasn't easy. Eugen's body was already sore. Worse, he couldn't quite believe what had happened.
Just as the hands on the clock on the classroom wall clicked to 1100 hours straight up, the second knock sounded and the door opened to admit Third Squad. They were quieter, but just as direct. Maximilian, a fellow German, stopped by Eugen's table and grinned. "Thanks for helping us out, buddy. We've been on the line for 16 hours. Suck me off. No, not up there! Get down on the floor and take it." After checking him for anything that might have signaled disease, Eugen grinned back at him and prepared to give him one hell of a super blow job. Quickly, he began tonguing the seam and was just moving onto the frenulum, when Max started pushing into his mouth. "Sorry, man, but I've only got a few minutes and I need it...bad!" With that, Max began vigorously fucking his long, thick cock into Eugen's mouth. Scarcely able to breathe, he tried to deep throat the soldier, but he forgot to breathe through his nose and was fast running out of air. Fortunately, Max promptly exploded in his mouth, withdrawing his cum- slicked cock only to wipe it off on Eugen's face. (Burmann only nodded at him and sent him to a chair.) Still kneeling, hardly able to move, Eugen's head slowly slipped down onto the floor. After pointing out a few errors to most of the men, Burmann turned to the company, his hand on his hips. "Now you know why it is very dangerous in any man's army to volunteer for ANYTHING! Maybe you BOYS (the word spilled out of the Sergeant's mouth with unmistakable sarcasm) need to give up and go home." If you don't, you have another customer in...five minutes! That, of course, was all that was needed to bring the men of Second Squad to their feet, their faces flushed with determination, their hands hurrying to prepare for the next crew. During the process, Piet walked quietly over to Eugen, helped him to his feet, and learned him up against the table while he thoroughly lubed him. With a pat on the rump and a muttered word or two, he helped him back up on the bed, and walked away without a glance at anyone. Had he looked at the Sergeant, he would have seen approval and confidence.
As Fourth Squad entered, Eugen had a vain hope that he might get little Peder or even Joost. He also knew they were under orders and that wasn't likely to happen. It didn't. "Corporal, thanks for helping us out," a deep voice sounded off in the distance. 'Oh, God! Mikkel.' Eugen thought. "With all the shelling and everything, I haven't been able to get much sleep. I just keep thinking of my girl. I need her...real bad. Could you help?" the voice continued. "Sure thing, soldier," Eugen replied in a voice that he scarcely recognized as his own. Eugen lay on his back and reached out his arms for the big Norwegian. Saying that this was the way his girl welcomed him to her bed, he reached down, kissed Eugen, and caressed his face. "I'm grateful, Corporal," he mumbled. Noticing that Eugen's cock was still limp, he scrunched his big body down on the bed and tongued him until it began to show some life. With only a few minutes left, he heavily lubricated his humongous cock, placed it at the portal, and worked his way in. His eyes bulging, Eugen gasped at the size of the monster that was entering him. He also knew instinctively that Mikkel was making every effort to avoid giving unnecessary pain. When he came, Eugen did also...for the first time that day. "Thanks, Mikkel, for everything," he murmured as the Big Norwegian got up. "That's ok...friend," Mikkel rasped as he moved away.
"Ok, men," their Sergeant Instructor growled as he dumped a small pile of hot, wet cloths on the front table. "Help each other to clean up and sharpen up. You've only got a few minutes until lunch. Squeezing the back of Piet's neck as he passed, he stood next to his still groggy Squad Leader. Taking a large towel, he quickly cleaned the cum, lube, and sweat off his body, helped him to put his shorts back on, and ran his own comb through the youngster's hair. Leaning down, he whispered into his ear: "Corporal, I need you. You WILL stand - and you WILL march proudly into that goddamned dining room. DO YOU HEAR ME, SOLDIER?" "Yes, Sergeant, I hear you, and I won't let you down," Eugen mumbled as he worked his feet down onto the floor.
Sergeant Instructor Burmann watched the last of Second Squad march off...in good order. "God, watch over those kids, and keep them from being used this way," he murmured softly.
Lunch and Officers' Training
Lunch was eaten in something of a fog, but Eugen did remember seeing Boris for the first time that day and joking with him. It seems that Boris had undergone both his dental and his nose surgery that morning. (Doctors' time during 1943 was at a premium. Unless totally contraindicated medically, multiple medical procedures tended to be performed in the same facility and as close together in time as possible.) Where there weren't bandages and braces, his face was one vast panorama of dark black bruises. "Boris, I'm a little out of it this noon, but did I get into the ring with you again during the morning?" he whispered (loudly) out of the side of his mouth. "Nah," Boris rasped through the metalwork, "the damned sawbones and the dentist teamed up and did what you could never do!" "You're never going to make it as 'Miss Bavaria of 1943'," Eugen warned. "What's this I hear, buddy, about the fact that YOU may?" Boris retorted, never the best at repartee even when unencumbered by grillwork. By this time, of course, the young men at both tables were snickering loudly, and had to be quieted down by simultaneous glares from Sergeants Bayer and Burmann.
Not expecting much from their Officers' Training class, Second Squad was pleasantly surprised. While never the most lucid instructor in the Program, Sergeant Warner did seem at least to have a theme today. Namely, while the enlisted men would often simply want to "get their rocks off," that which officers wanted could be a bit more complicated and needed to be figured out before getting off on the wrong track. Remembering their encounters with "enlisted men" that morning, the Second Squad agreed that their needs and approaches could be pretty "basic." So what was different about officers?
Warmer recommended that his charges try a little "role playing" to "tease out" the conditions under which the officer would be most comfortable and, hence, sexually aroused. ("There was sure as hell no time to 'tease' anything out of that bunch this morning!" Piet grunted to himself.) "For instance," Sergeant Warner continued, "some officers will warm up most quickly to the 'complete soldier.' Keep it formal, be impassive, let him play you as if you were a 'toy soldier'. Other officers will respond more warmly to the 'pleasant young man', the type that they might find at a caf‚ in a university town. After all," he added," other than in the Waffen-SS, many of your highest officers are still aristocrats or, at least, highly educated." "What's wrong with the Waffen-SS officer, Herr Oberscharfuehrer?" Klaus asked...a bit belligerently. "Absolutely nothing," Sergeant Warner backed off quickly. "It's just that Reichsfuehrer-SS Himmler had a somewhat different personality type in mind." (While he hadn't said much of substance, it seemed to satisfy the Hitler Youth.) "Then, too, some officers are looking for an 'eager young lover'. Show them a little interest...a little promise...and they become active quickly. "Finally," he said, warming to his theme, "you might explore the role of "the kid," either the street punk or the lad who is simply 'young and lost'. They turn on many a man, straight as well as gay, mature as well as older."
"You need practice!" he continued. "I have been fortunate to secure three guests who will work with us during the remainder of the period. Achtung!" As the young men of Second Squad snapped to attention and stiffly saluted, three SS officers in full uniform marched to the front of the classroom, an 0bergruppenfuehrer (SS-General), a Hauptsturmfuehrer (SS-Captain), and an Unterscharfuehrer (SS-Sergeant). All three men were highly decorated. Let's see how quickly you can engage the interest of the officer of your choice. I need a volunteer!" All six men were immediately at attention beside their chairs and saluting. "Toomas, front and center!" Toomas approached the General and within minutes had him panting and pawing with his brilliant portrayal of the "simply young and lost" youngster. In turn, Nils completely turned off the Captain with his "eager young lover approach," but got a much firmer nibble when he turned into the "pleasant young man." Finally, somewhat surprisingly, Eugen walked up to the Sergeant and immediately sparked his interest with the "complete soldier" approach.
"Well, men, our time is about up. May I introduce our guests. The portly General turned out to be one of the cooks who worked in the deep recesses of the kitchen; the Captain, a Lieutenant in the Motor Pool; the Sergeant, a Colonel who had been visiting Colonel Kreuze that day and graciously stayed to help with instruction in the new program. "You may not realize it, men, but I have also tried to teach you something else today. Would anyone care to explain the second part of the lesson? Eugen again stood at attention and saluted. On being recognized, he said, "Perhaps, Sergeant, you were trying to tell us not to be blinded by the insignia, that underneath the cloth and braid might lie some surprises. Further, we would do well to be respectful to everyone we meet in our new assignment, for...you never know." "Excellent, Corporal! Dismissed!" As the men marched out and the other "guests" had departed, the Colonel looked at Sergeant Warner with an enigmatic expression. "There is still time, Herr Oberscharfuehrer, there is still time," he murmured.
Taking Care of First Squad
Now 1500 hours (3:00 pm), Second Squad had a half hour of their normally free period before they had to go to the Sex Instruction classroom. There they would begin First Squad's introduction to the realities of their role on the battlefield. After joking for a few minutes about their last class - and agreeing that it hadn't ALL been crap - they turned their attention to their forthcoming meeting with the men who had savaged them earlier that morning. "All I want to do is get my hands on that bastard Leif," Piet snarled. "That can't be the game...not as long as we're soldiers, buddy," Eugen observed. "Rache [revenge] just doesn't cut it. Look at what's going on here. The officers are trying to teach us that our role will often be to roll over and take it from long lines of men craving a little relief. (Sure, there'll be an occasional few minutes with a person who is relatively human, but that will be the exception.) This part of the Program is trying to build up some psychological endurance, heighten our determination to honor our oath. What part does revenge play in teaching these qualities? None. Worse, it distracts our minds from the lessons we're supposed to be learning. My suggestion is that we give our boys more than they ever bargained for. If they ask for X, we give them X...times 10. We use EVERY MINUTE of our 20 minutes or so with them. WE NEVER LET UP. We tire them out, burn them out, exhaust them - but we do it as soldiers...with honor! DON'T GIVE THEM SOMETHING ELSE TO THINK ABOUT - like we're bastards or queers or whatever. JUST MAKE THEM KNOW THEY'RE TIRED...SO DAMNED TIRED! Is that revenge enough for you, Piet?" Piet just grinned wickedly and said, "Let's get downstairs!"
Poor First Squad... The interaction between Klaus and a young Hollander, Arne, will give as clear an example of what happened as is possible. Klaus went over to him and gave him a long song and dance about being on the line for two weeks, about being with a guy who simply refused to give his buddy any help (and claimed that "self-abuse" was immoral), and about how he was finally forced to fuck a Russian corpse. Thanking Arne profusely for "being there for him," he asked hesitantly if he might blow him. Exhaling with relief (for he had expected and feared worse), Arne said, "Sure." Big mistake... Klaus never performed more...professionally. His fingers stroked and tickled inexperienced Arne's young body until he was writhing with passion - even though the overture was still being played! All the surrounding territory was given a temperature-rising lick-down. As the young Hollander began to pant, Klaus moved to his nice set of cock and balls. Klaus tongued and sucked those balls until they were shiny - every vein outlined, redder than the scrotum that held them. The boy from Arnhem was ready to blow sky-high - until Klaus cupped his balls and firmly pulled them down and away from his body. Grinning innocently at the shocked Dutchman, Klaus murmured, "When you finally cum, believe that you'll remember it!" The dance began anew. Klaus played with his cock with the very tips of his fingers until Arne thought he would go mad. When he finally reached down and licked his frenulum, the youngster again began to go rigid. Unfortunately, the smiling young Hitler Youth sharply squeezed his rock-hard penis just below the bright purple glans. "OW!" the youngster screeched in Dutch [That's "OW!" in English.] and looked accusingly at Klaus. "Makes it even better when you finally cum," Klaus repeated with a "best buddy's" grin. You will guess that this went on for the next 15 minutes, for Klaus seemed to have a zillion ways to cut poor Arne off at the pass. As Klaus saw Sergeant Wagner go for his whistle, he let the poor little beast blow. Believe that Old Faithful had nothing on that young Hollander! Klaus chortled that he would be 15 minutes recovering and, then, someone from the Third Squad would be working him! After Klaus and his squad mates exited the room in proper military style, they stopped dead in their tracks and absolutely mobbed the young German. His exhibition had been far too much of a classic to miss! (Squad 3 that was waiting to enter wondered what in hell was going on.) Sitting on Piet's shoulders, Klaus shouted, "YOU ARE REVENGED, EUGEN!" That didn't explain a thing to Squad 3, but Second Squad chanted it all the way up the stairs! *** *** *** As the boys of Second Squad simply lazed in their room before the supper bell (for no one was in the mood for more sex...at least right then!), Colonel Kreuze sat in his office reading a message that he had just decoded. His informant in Berlin had notified him of two (not necessarily related) developments. First, the two lads who had rescinded volunteering for the Program had never made it back to the city. Rather, their remains had been found recently in a burned-out car, each with a bullet hole in the back of his head. This information had been accidentally released to one of the parents by a Police clerk. Secondly, signs of some kind of disturbance had been noticed in both Himmler's offices and Hitler's office in the Reich Chancellery. His informant promised to keep his eyes and ears open.
The Evening
For the first time in some days, the evening at Schloss Margarethen was relatively uneventful. Naturally, Second Squad delighted in refining their new and universally accepted approach to that which had come to be known as the "Reality Check." What could they do to make it even more effective with Squads 3 and 4 tomorrow? It was a most "creative" discussion! One might guess that their new friends in Fourth Squad were very curious and made every effort to penetrate the shroud of secrecy that had been drawn over plans for them! Alas, no informer stepped forward.
Piet had secured a #3 butt plug from Sergeant Burmann after supper and, frankly was having some problems with it. Burmann had earlier suggested that butt plugs sometimes cause additional hard-ons, but the #2 version had presented few difficulties. The #3, however, was something else again. Simply put, Piet inserted it...and Piet developed an instant hard-on. He had twice had Klaus, his bedmate, help him take it out, lubricate it (and him) and reinsert it. As discussion of their "secret plans" faded, the other squad members became increasingly interested in Piet's dilemma and offered all sorts of suggestions. Nothing helped. Piet had begun wondering how he could move about the building preceded by a quite impressive rod of steel. Knowing young men of this age, you will guess that the comments became increasingly bawdy. The Dutchman only hoped that others would not hear of his troubles.
Technically speaking, the only other event of note took place in the early hours of the next day, 0210 hours (2:10 am) to be exact. Unable to sleep for two nights, Jens had gotten up and padded out into the corridors. Before he was really aware of where he was going, he found himself in the staff corridor. In fact, he found himself in front of Sergeant Burmann's door! Even days later, he could not explain - to himself, let alone to his Sergeant - why he had twisted the knob to an unlocked door and walked in. As the lights suddenly came on, Jens found himself on the business end of a black, very large Luger.
"Jens, what in hell are you doing here...and at this hour?" "I...I...I don't know, Sergeant," the terrified, half-awake boy answered. His body shaking violently, he stumbled over to a nearby coat stand, almost falling in the process. "I think I'm sick. May I lie down, please?" Burmann, who obviously slept in the nude, leapt out of his couch bed and made his way to Jens' side. Supporting the boy, he helped him over to the couch, smoothed the covers back, and helped him lie down. "Would you like something to drink, Big Guy...some water, maybe something hot. Nervously, he strode over to a cabinet that doubled as a pantry and searched for some aspirin...or something to eat - or, in truth, ANYTHING that would make everything stop whirling and return to normal! It didn't help his blood pressure when he turned towards Jens and found him stretched out on his side, looking straight at him. The look in the young man's eyes was feverish, but, clearly, it was NOT a fever fed by a standard virus! Burmann swallowed convulsively. The body - forged in the fires of gymnastics - was magnificent. Even lying down, his torso, his shoulders, the glorious thighs... And that burnished gold hair on top of a hairless body that cast every muscle and vein into high relief! Oh, God! He was a Technical Sergeant in the Waffen-SS! He could look forward to a fine career in a victorious and secure Third Reich. If the war continued for long - and Stalingrad and Kursk said it might - he might even earn a battlefield commission! As he took a step closer to the couch, he noticed that tears were pouring from the lad's eyes. Scheisse! He LIKED Jens. Were the truth known, he liked him very much. And he was so fuckin' beautiful that he made his head swim. He felt dizzy, and his stomach seemed to be resting against his Adam's Apple. "KARL," the boy cried out piteously as he extended an arm towards him. "KARL, PLEASE HELP ME!" The Sergeant was just about to say something very stupid (right out of the Manual)...something like, "Mit uns ist es 'Jawohl'," ["Around here, we say, "Yes, sir!"], but he caught himself. 'Sheer garbage,' he thought. 'It doesn't even make sense!'
Slowly, as if a trance, Karl Burmann - a newly promoted Technical Sergeant in the Waffen-SS, 24 years old and at the height of his physical glory - walked over to the couch and sat down beside the youth. "Karl, please don't hate me." "There's no way under the Hakenkreuzfahnen [Swastika banners] (That sounded stupid to him, too!) that I could ever hate you, Jens. To the contrary." As the boy rested a hand on his thigh - a hand that felt like nothing other than a glob of molten steel - he fearfully murmured, "Is there any chance that you have some of the same feelings for me that I have for you? I love you, you know?" "Yes, I know," Burmann replied.
Doing something for himself for one of the first times in his life - casting the "whole," the "group" into a psychological garbage can - Karl Burmann reached over and took the unbelievably beautiful young man into his arms. Flesh on flesh...lips on lips...heat on heat...love on love... Jens ran his fingers through the light, strawberry-blond hair that dusted the Sergeant's arms and heavy, muscular chest. You're beautiful, you know. You're so beautiful!" "Strange," the Sergeant responded, "I was just thinking the same thing about you. Kiss me again, you crazy Dane!"
Both young men suddenly realized that they were as hard as steel and ready to spring to their feet and start hopping around the room. "You know, Jens, I have always been known as a 'thinking man' - and I've been preaching to you guys forever about 'warming a guy up' and 'preparation' and 'relaxation'. But I've got to tell you that I want you...NOW! Jens giggled hysterically and replied, "Well, Sergeant, you named the 'When'; now all you have to do is name the 'Where'." "You asked for it!" Burmann growled. "Lock your legs around my waist and hold on!" With that he carried Jens over to an overstuffed chair - the only chair - in the room. (Holy shit! He was as heavy as lead! Solid muscle...) Sitting down, he looked at a golden- haired boy whose grin seemed so wide that his face risked shattering into a million pieces - and, thus, ending one hell of a dream...if all this WAS a dream. "This ought to be duck soup for a gymnast!" he burbled. "Oh, shit, you've got to get up and get that lubricant in the cabinet." "Forget the lubricant, Sergeant." Jens growled. "Just fuck me!" Karl Burmann insisted on a little (actually, a lot of) saliva, but he wasn't about to wait any longer than it took to apply it. "Ok, lift that hunky body up into the air and come down onto papa! " And so began a dance of love that lasted two lifetimes.
(Notes from the Next Day)
The second day of the "Reality Check" went much the same as the first. Yes, Third and Fourth Squads wondered what had hit them after their half-hour with Eugen and his boys, but there are limits to repetition even when many funny (and, sometimes, touching) incidents are omitted.
There was, however, something that happened in their Sex Instruction class that bears mentioning. As expected, Sergeant Instructor Burmann was preparing his men for tomorrow's first major test, a test that would demand they have sex with - and, perhaps, even make love to - an older man, a man who was often an officer. We listen to his comments from the point that he introduces the subject:
"Before we get into something more difficult, I have another question for you." (Groans, most half in jest, filled the air. Burmann knew that he was allowing a degree of informality on the outer edge of what was possible for an SS Non-Com, but he plowed on. Besides, he was still a little dazed from last night!) 'You have just learned that a beloved uncle is dying of an inoperable tumor in his brain. This man was as important to your growing up and becoming a respected member of the Waffen-SS as your parents...as anyone. You love him and respect him beyond anything that words can convey. You come into his hospital room where he lies dying. Question: What would you do?" There were several suggestions, a common one being that the young man would show him how much he loved him and try to make his life easier. "Question: Would it matter if his illness had made him fat?" No...of course not! "Question: Would it matter if one side of his face was sagging due to the tumor?" No...of course not! "Question: Ok, men, think on this. What if your Uncle were your COUNTRY? Would his appearance put you off - or would you still HAVE to show your love for everything it has done to make you the upstanding young men you are? Would you, no matter what, try to make its life a little easier? I don't want an answer to that question right now. It's called a 'question for thought.' Just know that by tomorrow morning, you must have answered that question for yourself. Dismissed!"
(To Be Continued)