But the General preferred to make his authority felt by his personality, rather than by getting himself up like a Christmas tree.
Yet there was a subtle difference in the General's expression now, a bleak acknowledgment of the fact that he found himself completely alone. He seemed almost lost in thought as he gazed at the documents before him.
Carefully he read through each of the personal reports of which they consisted, before comparing them together. Then he came to the conclusion that a lot of bunglers had been at work here. For according to these reports, the man who was now Lieutenant Krafft had always been quite unexceptionable, a good soldier—almost one might say a fine one—always keen and reliable. But there must be something wrong with that.
The General read the reports through again, this time systematically searching for specially revealing turns of phrase and oblique marginal references, which in due course he found. Almost imperceptibly he smiled.
For example in his report on Krafft as a corporal he found the words: ... remarkable for his obstinacy—his feeling for discipline still leaves something to be desired—determination is his strong point ... And in the report on Krafft as a lieutenant were the words: ... good at solving problems on his own —very self-willed—plenty of energy but not always put to the best uses—a first-class leader of men with the ability to render really outstanding service under a superior officer who knows his job . . . The last report written shortly before Krafft's transfer to the training school offered the following instructive comment: ... of a rather critical turn of mind an extremely useful if not altogether comfortable subordinate with a strongly developed sense of justice ...
Only a few words extracted from a superfluity of neutral meaningless formulas, cheap generalities and empty clichés. But these few words made it clear that Krafft was something out of the ordinary. He had been posted suspiciously often, and yet almost always with words of commendation. It looked as if people had praised him highly in order to be rid of him the more easily. And now he had landed here at this training school—in the domain of Major-General Modersohn, popularly known as the iceberg or the last of the Prussians.
Modersohn closed Krafft's personal file. The notebook which lay ready to hand remained empty. The General closed his, eyes for a moment as if to rest them from the harsh light of the table lamp. His face still revealed nothing of what he was thinking. But the ghost of a smile remained.
Then Modersohn rose and went into his bedroom, where there was an army bed, a chair, a cupboard, and a wash basin—but that was all.
The General unbuttoned his tunic and pulled out a wallet, which he opened. He stared at a photograph, about postcard size, which was the portrait of a young man—an officer with an angular face and large, frank, inquisitive eyes. It was a solemn face, but one which at the same time evinced a quiet determination.
When the General looked at this picture something approaching warmth came into his eyes, and the severity of his expression was replaced by a look of distant sadness.
This was a picture of Lieutenant Barkow, who had been buried the day before.
Lieutenant Krafft was also unable to sleep that night. However, it wasn't his conscience that kept him awake, but Elfrida Rademacher.
“I hope no one saw you come," said Krafft rather nervously.
“What if they did?" replied Elfrida with apparent indifference, sitting down beside him on the bed. She thought she knew what men liked—cheerfulness, brightness, and above all no fuss and bother.
“What will the other girls you live with say?"
“Just what I say about them when they don't sleep in their own beds. Nothing at all."
Krafft listened to the night, but there seemed no risk of being disturbed except by Elfrida, who now began to take off her clothes.
Krafft found the moral atmosphere prevailing in these barracks really quite remarkable. The remarkable thing was that such an atmosphere should be possible in the domain of a man like General Modersohn.
“They haven't invented a cure for it yet," said Elfrida, pulling her petticoat up over her hips. She did this as if it were the most natural thing in the world, which, Krafft reasoned, seemed to show that she'd had a certain amount of practice.
He found it difficult to make this girl out. It was true that everything had been quite simple from the beginning, completely uncomplicated, delightfully straightforward. But Krafft could sense that she wasn't quite what she pretended to be. He was always catching himself thinking about her. Well now, he said to himself, it was possible that she wasn't so much seeking pleasure for herself as wanting to do him a favor. There was a suspicion of charity about the whole thing.
“Haven’t you any misgivings?" asked Krafft.
“Why should I have?" she replied. “We like each other. That's quite enough."
“Quite enough for me certainly," said Krafft. “But what if Captain Kater finds out how you're spending your nights? After all, he's officially responsible for you and the other girls."
Elfrida began to laugh. It was a completely frank laugh and dangerously loud at that. “This fellow Kater is the last person who can afford to set himself up as a guardian of morality!"
“Have you had some sort of experience with him then?" asked Krafft, noting with astonishment that the idea made him slightly unhappy.
Elfrida paused for a moment. She straightened up slightly, before turning her dark eyes on him and saying: “I’ve been here for two years now, ever since this training school was started. I'm living here with more than forty other girls in a special separate corridor of the headquarters building—we even have our own entrance, in fact. All day we work in the stores and in the workshops. We are women civilian employees called up for military service. We come into contact with men day after day; there are a thousand of them all round us. So it's hardly surprising that from time to time we feel the need to spend our nights with them too."
“Well, all the same, I'm glad you selected me from the thousand or so others."
“I did so for a number of reasons," said Elfrida, taking off her stockings. “First because your billet and mine are in the same building, which makes matters a lot easier. Then because the two of us work in the same place, in the headquarters company, which makes it easier for us to arrange to spend our free time together. And then there's another reason, Karl, a by no means unimportant one—I like you. That doesn't necessarily mean I love you. I'm against big words like that, and anyway they've become very small in these times of ours. But I do like you very much, and that's the only reason I'm doing what I am doing. In any case Captain Kater has no place on my list which isn't all that big—and he never will have."
Almost hurriedly, Elfrida stripped off her brassiere. Krafft looked at her longingly, burning with desire and wanting to stretch out his hands and seize hold of her at once, but she pushed him away and looked at him almost sadly.
“I’m not exactly a model of virtue," she said, “I don't need to tell you that. But I don't want you to think that my being here and the ease with which everything has developed between us is all just a matter of course. There's more to it than that."
Her breath was coming in short gasps and he misinterpreted
