OUT OF THE RUBBLE - 6
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 shared some stories told by relatives who lived through the tribulations of 1945-46 in occupied Germany. Yarns about "special" potato pancakes and the Soviet Zone's approach to coal distribution are woven into this part; others may appear ere we are done. Thank you, Ed! /cm ------------------------------------------------------------------------------
PART 6
(Revisiting the End of Part 5)
"Thank you for my special gift, Sam. It was...wonderful." [Andreas's] eyes reigniting, he added, "It's your turn now, isn't it, buddy?" Sam grinned sleepily and allowed that the day was young and that there would be time for many more Christmas gifts. After a quick clean-up, their bodies coiled around each other and the two young men fell into a deep, peaceful sleep. The last mumbled words that could be heard were, "Damn, I love you so!"
(Continuing Our Story - Cold Descends upon the Land)
Waking in bright morning sunshine, the people of Tieferwald found that a major cold wave of far-reaching proportions had spread over South Central Germany.
"Merry Christmas, Sam" chattered Andreas, as he attempted his morning ablutions at the bathroom basin. "Am I crazy, or is it about 15 degrees colder than when we went to bed?"
Throwing an arm around the shivering youngster, Sam drew him close and mischievously rubbed his knuckles over the boy's scalp. (Nor was he above copping a feel!) "Merry Christmas, Big Guy!" Quickly realizing that Andreas was (far) more interested at that point in cuddling than in harder play, he continued, "Oh, it's c-o-l-d alright. Let's get something on our butts and move them down into the kitchen."
After throwing a couple of pieces of wood on the fire in order to reduce the amount of warm vapor still streaming from their nostrils, Sam brewed his (real) coffee, as Andreas brought milk, rolls, and a jar of jam to the table.
"I know the guys did a great job patching some of the worst holes, Sam, but what do you think it's like in the apartments this morning?" Andreas asked as he pushed some jam onto an enormous chunk of bread.
"They did do a good job, Big Guy. Given what those buildings have been thorough, however, my guess is that there the bombing opened up more cracks than our boys could possibly have plugged. Reports may not start coming into until tomorrow, but my guess is that this frigid air will have telephone switchboards lighting up like Christmas trees by morning...at the latest. And those without phones will be standing at the entry doors. Actually, I am most worried about the very young and the very old. Given a diet so limited, they just don't have much reserve energy to go on. And those poor people in the DP camp can't be far behind."
Dressing warmly, Sam and Andreas spent a leisurely Christmas Day meeting old acquaintances in the city and making new ones among those living in the city and at the camp. Sam's admiration for the people heightened. As tragic as were the circumstances, for instance, the atmosphere of Christmas Day generally remained "Gemuetlich" [comfortable, friendly]. Stories were shared on every side. For instance, one Camp mother from Danzig related how she had once gotten her hands on some potatoes and tried to make potato pancakes. The only problem was that no shortening of any kind could be begged, borrowed, or stolen. Using paraffin wax (of the type found in candles) to fry them was less than successful, but her family ate them anyway! In truth, Sam and Andreas kept both their ears and their eyes open, offering hope when hope was not completely unrealistic and noting conditions that should be addressed as quickly as possible.
As the Tieferwald area entered January, frigid cold and increasing despair became a common denominator. There were few goods available in the German stores. The Army did its best, but emergency provisions were slow in reaching South Central Germany from the Untied States. The Congress had given permission for relief agencies to ship directly to Germany as of December 1, 1945, with concurrence by the Army, but bureaucratic red tape snarled efforts to get shipments into the pipeline. The precious supply of stored laid up during the autumn began to run thin. Finally, in mid January, the first two large URA cargo planes loaded with supplies for Tieferwald landed in Frankfurt. They were met by a long line of Army trucks from General Clemens command. Had there been a German government, the day of their arrival back in Tieferwald would have been designated as a local holiday! Nevertheless, it was but a drop in an enormous bucket, and the people of the city - even more, the people of the DP camp - suffered grievously.
Complicating the situation, and resulting in even more deaths among the very old and the very young, fuel deficiencies quickly mounted to crisis proportions. Yes, a few coal shipments made their way down the tracks from Frankfurt, but they were barely enough to maintain public utilities and the hospital. A variety of regulations were established - such as requiring each student to take a piece of wood to school in the morning - but theft became more and more common as despair mounted. Teens, especially the former Hitler Youth, became a serious problem. About all the citizens could do was to relate stories about the much greater difficulties facing their relatives in the Soviet Zone.
Unlike the western zones, "compassionate aid" (supplied by Americans to all zones of occupation) was confiscated and sent back to Russia, as were all functioning factories (even the bricks!) and anything else of any value. Sam was told by a former Luftwaffe (air force) officer about a coal mine located not far from his parents' home in an eastern city. Naturally, 100% of the output was taken and returned to the USSR. Fortunately for the local inhabitants, however, each train had to traverse a hairpin turn not far from the mine. Necessarily slowing down on rails damaged by the war, neglect, and the weather, they were besieged by townspeople who threw coal off the cars to be collected later and used for cooking and heating. Unfortunately, after some time, the Russians became aware of this practice and would have men waiting on the coal cars to defend them with shovels. Worse than being hit on the head with a shovel was being taken prisoner by the guards, as one never knew what the punishment extracted would be. One of the officer's 12 or 13 year-old nephews was conked on the head by a shovel during one of these raids and captured by the guards. Inasmuch as he was so young, they took "pity" on him. That is, his only punishment was to stand at attention with a makeshift rucksack (a burlap bag with ropes holding it onto his shoulders) filled with coal for a period of 12 hours. Years later, he still had the scars on his shoulders where the ropes cut into his flesh. Still - in all four occupation zones - civilians froze to death in their homes.
(A Sudeten Puppy)
Enjoying his first day off in ages, the powerful teen couldn't believe how good he felt! The forest was his home; he'd been doing this all his life. He had liked going into Pressburg on occasion - just as long as it wasn't too often! (True, he had loved his Uncle Erich and, if Sam were there, he'd gladly live in the biggest city on earth!) Breathing deeply, he used his walking staff even more actively and continued his vigorous tramp through the deep snow. After his wild Slovakian forests, the Steinerwald was a little tame, a little too manicured, but it would do in a pinch. Oh, yeah! Just before he was about to turn and retrace his path, he was able to shoot a couple of really nice young hares. He remembered that Sam thought that European hares were huge, insisting on calling them "Elephant Hares!" 'That's ok,' Andreas thought, 'these will fit nicely in a stew pot with some potatoes and a few other vegetables. Supper, you have arrived!'
Suddenly, the youth heard what sounded like a "mew" off to his right. "Gee, I hope I haven't killed their babies," Andreas muttered to himself. "Little leverets [baby hares] are not going to make it without their parents, especially in this weather." Again hearing the mew - and what sounded like a couple of squeaks - he started to work the nearby brush. He finally stumbled onto a large section of mammoth drainage pipe that might have been used during October's repair of a small Main River dam. Preceding cautiously, he approached the open end of the pipe and looked in. Unfortunately, the interior was so dark that he could see very little.
"HOLY SHIT!' he shouted, "Hare fur isn't red!" There at the far end of the pipe, clothed in little more than rags, he was just able to spot a young boy - a young boy surmounted by a wild bush of red hair.. Crawling, prodding with his walking stick, moving the lad an inch at a time, he finally pulled the youngster to the pipe's entrance. The lad was unconscious - and well on his way to freezing to death. Andreas hooked the young hares to his belt, slung the boy over his shoulder, grabbed his gun, and took off for Tieferwald. As he left the forest and prepared to cross the first road, an Army Jeep driven by a Corporal who recognized him stopped and gave the boys a lift home.
As he stepped in the door, the phone rang and Sam informed him that he would be around 1900 hours (7:00 pm) returning home. Problems... As Sam hurriedly hung up, Andreas continued directly to the bathroom where he began drawing a warm bath, stripping the youngster, and discarding his rags into a tightly-closed sack. As quickly as possible, he checked his pulse and ensured that his mouth and throat were clear and popped him into tub. Fortunately, the youth was still alive and even showing the slightest color.
As the boy lay before him in the water, Andreas realized that he was somewhat larger and older than he had thought at first. Here was a very early teen - with the long, thin legs of a colt. Nevertheless, Host wasn't a complete stranger to puberty, for his torso was almost back in proportion with his elongated lower body. Shadows of light red hair were to be seen under his arms, and a few lonely red hairs floated in the water above his 3.5 inch (8.9 cm) soft cock. Other than a wild shock of hair on his head and the small amount on his body, however, the boy was completely hairless. He might have been an extremely early-developing 12 year-old, but Andreas's experience with his brothers suggested that 13 was more likely. 'A cute puppy,' Andreas thought, 'a real cute Christmas puppy!'
Suddenly, the "puppy" came back to consciousness, coughing, sneezing, thoroughly disoriented. "Wha... Where? Where am I?" he choked.
"You're near Tieferwald am Main in the American Zone of Germany," Andreas answered reassuringly. "Everything is ok - and you're going to be feeling better very soon! I'm Andreas. Who are you?"
"I'm Horst. Oh, boy... I've been heading here since I left the Sudetenland about two or three weeks ago...I think. (The Sudetenland comprised the mountainous borderlands of Czechoslovakia from which the Czechs were preparing to expel their German inhabitants. The clamor of these ethnic Germans for union with the Fatherland - aided and abetted by the Nazis - precipitated the "Munich Conference." Despite the slight hope that Munich offered, Hitler's insatiable appetites soon led to war rather than to "peace in our time.") Horst went on to tell Andreas about his entire family having been lost in the War and about his 13-month stay in a Children's Home in Karlsbad [today's Kalovy Vary]. When the other boys in the Home came to hate him (to use Horst's word), he had left early for Tieferwald, having heard that chaos was diminishing in the American Zone, that DPs were treated fairly, and that there was food. As he left, freight cars were being assembled for an exodus that would begin momentarily
As Sam had cared for him, Andreas saw to it that Horst was deloused and cleansed. While Horst scrubbed - and scrubbed some more - Sam's Official Assistant warmed a thin broth. On Andreas's return, Horst, looked like a bright, shiny, new penny. He also seemed to have smelled the broth, his nose casting about for its location.
"Easy does it, young'un," Andreas chided. "You've been lucky so far. Let's keep it that way!" Drying the young pup lovingly, he wrapped him tightly in his own robe, and carried him to the couch in the living room. There, spoon by spoon, he fed Horst the broth.
His soulful eyes showing intense hero worship - and not a few tears - Horst looked up at his young savior. "Nobody's treated me this way for SO long, Andreas. You remind be of my big brother. Golly, I wish you WERE my big brother! " Andreas's tongue grew heavy and his throat suddenly felt parched as he beheld his second great Christmas gift.
Suddenly, a key was heard in the door and Sam entered. Obviously tired, he still managed a cheery greeting: "Hi, boys! Andreas, we obviously have a guest." Slumping into a chair he continued, "Please introduce us."
Sitting on the edge of the couch next to Horst, Andreas recounted the details of his discovery, rehabilitation, and background, as well as the intelligence he had shared. With increasing excitement, Andreas noted how they had already come to feel like brothers - and how, inexplicably, he saw Horst as the second great gift he had received on the best Christmas of his life. Seeing no great receptivity in Sam's face, Andreas pushed on. "Sam, we have several unused bedrooms in this house. We can buy food at the PX. Couldn't Horst stay here...be one of us? I'm sure that he would even be willing to help out in our work."
Ever the New Englander, Sam interjected somewhat stiffly, "You need to remember, Andreas, that no man is ever given to another as a 'gift' - no man BELONGS to another. We are all brothers." Turning kindly to Horst, he asked, "How do you feel about this, red head?"
Completely overwhelmed, Horst was of little verbal help, though he did display the most eloquent "puppy dog eyes" that have ever graced a young teen the world over.
"I get the picture," Sam commented dryly. "Well, we have some things to discuss further, but not tonight. Come on, Horst..." he continued and, with that, picked the young Sudeten refugee up in his arms and headed upstairs. All went well until he went to tuck the boy into a small bed in another bedroom. Continuing to display his mastery of teen "adult-management" techniques, Horst immediately displayed an archetypal look of liver-lipped disapproval.
"Something is wrong, Herr [Mister] Horst?" Sam humorously enquired.
"Herr Sam, could I sleep with you, at least for tonight?"
Exhausted, close to laughing hysterically, Sam turned to Andreas, saying, "Alright, 'Big Brother,' take care of this guy!"
The widest of grins upon his handsome face, Sam's Official Assistant lugged Horst into their bedroom and unceremoniously dumped him into the very middle of the bed. His eyes clearly saying, 'That's more like it!', the red-haired young puppy stretched luxuriously, scratched, and burrowed his way into the covers - all the while watching Sam and Andreas like a hawk. Prepared for bed, the light extinguished, the three comrades settled down for sleep. In the frigid air that quickly reclaimed that dark room, little could be heard other than a "mew" - and, occasionally, a few "squeaks."
(Open Arms - and Hearts)
The situation in the Camp steadily grew even more tragic. The Army truck that patrolled its frozen streets daily returned with an ever-increasing number of rough, dark sacks. Vowing that they hadn't liberated Buchenwald and other Nazi horror camps only to be taking on SS duties, soldiers began complaining bitterly. Tearfully, representatives of the Camp Council begged the Buergermeister's office to do something...anything. When the full dimensions of their pain could no longer be ignored, the Buergermeister called a meeting of the City Council. Sam attended, in his own right and as the General's unofficial representative.
Fearing a strongly negative reaction from Tieferwald's citizens - for much the same thing had been done during the War as bombing and destruction mounted - the Buergermeister decreed that each dwelling would be inspected, the number of inhabitants recorded, and a "minimal living space" calculated for each resident. When "excess space" was determined, assignments would be made from the Camp population and that of the worst city dwellings. The inspection was completed in just over four days. On the fifth, with Army trucks lending their support, people began moving into their new homes. While no one expected to hear sounds of rejoicing - from the new tenets or the old - everyone was amazed by the quiet determination and open hearts with which most of the weary, cold, and starving citizens of Tieferwald received the new arrangements. Many an American even began to believe the stories they had heard of how citizens had reacted to the devastating bombing of great cities across the Third Reich. While they commonly believe that their families would have reacted in exactly the same manner, their respect for the people of Tieferwald deepened perceptibly. Respecting honest effort and good will, the people's view of Americans mellowed even more.
Only days after the move had been effected, Sam, Andreas, and Horst asked Ehrhardt to join them for supper. (Once Horst had gotten some rest and filled his thin frame with a never- ending supply of victuals, he had proved to be a good natured, loving little guy, as well as a highly intelligent and amusing addition to the "family.") After supper, Sam explained to Ehrhardt that Army homes were exempt from "The Assignment." Nevertheless, their house, owned in the past by clearly well-to-do German Buergers, had (in addition to the middle-sized bedroom occupied by Sam and Andreas and a small room occasionally occupied by Horst) one additional small bedroom and two very large ones, all furnished. There was also a tightly sealed attic. Under crisis conditions, they could not In good conscience allow the appealing space to go unused.
With the General's and the Buergermeister's concurrence, they had decided to temporarily open this space to a dozen German teens. Proposing room, board, basic clothing, and a small salary as remuneration, the boys offered Ehrhardt the afternoon and evening job of "Sargent and Big Brother" to the newcomers. A live-out German matron would be hired to cook and to clean the public rooms. She, along with Andreas, would occasionally provide a day's relief to Ehrhardt. When the young man accepted...on the spot...it was difficult to tell who was most joyful!
Later that evening, Sam and Andreas lay side by side, whispering about the day's developments. Giggling, his Official Assistant asked if Sam if he could really stand 15 teens cavorting about the house.
Sam merely grunted, whispered, "We done right, pahdnuh," and intensified toying with Andreas's nether parts.
(To Be Continued)