certainly, but what's so special about that?”
“The point is why she laughed,” declared Feders. “She laughed because our friend Krafft did in fact pinch her bottom.”
With a sense of outrage Ratshelm said: “How could you do such a thing, Lieutenant Krafft? I find that downright vulgar. And in that house, too!”
“Well,” said Krafft, “maybe you do, but the little girl enjoyed it! In that house too. Quite instructive, really. Or don't you think so?”
“` Request refused,' was all the General said. Nothing else.”
Major Frey, man of the world and hero of many battles, sat there shattered. A curt rejection of this sort from the General could have quite unforeseeable consequences. The General had always been a difficult man to approach, yet he, Frey, had never before known him quite so hard and uncompromising.
“I’m afraid,” muttered the Major, “that I've just made a mistake that's going to be almost impossible to put right. And it's all the fault of this Lieutenant Krafft!”
“I had a feeling,” said his wife, with undertones of triumph in her voice, “that this man's appearance was going to lead to little good.”
“Maybe,” said the Major uneasily, racking his brains for some way out of the situation, “but at all events it would have been better if you hadn't interfered!”
“But you know my reasons for doing so,” she said in astonishment. “And you've accepted them up to now.”
“Perhaps I shouldn't have,” said the Major suddenly. Yet he quickly saw that it was pointless. He avoided his wife's eyes, for he felt that she had let him down badly.
His glance wandered restlessly over the rose-patterned carpet. He just hadn't been sufficiently on the alert. He should have taken her idiosyncrasies into account more. She was inordinately sensitive about certain things. She could talk for hours on end about illness, wounds and death, but the simplest physical contact was sometimes enough to bring her to the verge of unreason. There was nobility about her, of course, unmistakable nobility; the Major was in no doubt of that. But on the delicate subject of sex, what she liked was tenderness, the shimmer of romance, chivalrous devotion, soft music and the willing attendance of courtiers. She was deeply sensitive. And honorable too, uncommonly honorable. But she was utterly lacking in all sense of reality. Damn it, officers weren't a bunch of minnesingers—certainly not this fellow Krafft who was responsible for the mess he was in now.
“Felicitas,” said the Major, “I think you shouldn't overdo your role as a paragon of virtue, not when grim realities are at stake. My God, do try and realize that a training school like this isn't a hot-house for sensitive plants!”
Felicitas looked at her husband as if he were some workman who had forced his way into her house. She raised her great sheep's nose majestically into the air and declared: “That is no way to speak to me, Archibald.”
“Oh, really!” said the Major, who still hadn't recovered from the shock of Modersohn's two words. “If you hadn't come out with these idiotic sexual complexes of yours, I would never have incurred the General's rebuke.”
“I pity you,” she said, “and find it lamentable that you should try to shift the blame for your own ineptness on to me.” The sheep's nose rose still higher into the air, looked ever more majestic, then described a hundred-and-eighty degree turn and was borne out of the room, a convincing picture of indignant pride. A door slammed and the Major was alone.
This Lieutenant Krafft, thought the Major bitterly, is not only endangering my marriage but has brought the General down on top of me as well. To hell with this man Krafft!
8. THE CADETS MAKE A MISTAKE
“Hand-grenades ready for the new man!” cried one of the cadets brightly. “Out with bayonets and pen nibs—it's a matter of life and death! Idiots and suicides to the fore— soldiers take cover!” The speaker looked round for applause, but no one laughed. This was no time for trying to be funny. A new section officer marked a new chapter in training, perhaps even a new start altogether. And this was nothing to joke about.
The cadets of H Section were entering classroom thirteen in ones and twos. They took their places, unpacked their brief-cases, and laid their notebooks out in front of them. All this was done surely and mechanically, as when a knob is turned in a factory, or a lever's position changed at the ring of a bell.
Up to this moment in the day everything had gone like clockwork—reveille, early games, washing, breakfast, cleaning out of rooms, marching to class. But now the complications set in. Unforeseen developments might lie ahead. No one could be sure of what would happen. A wrong answer could result in a bad mark; every false move might prejudice one's chances of a commission.
“Listen here!” cried Cadet Kramer, the section senior. “This new man's name is Krafft, Lieutenant Krafft.” He had learned the name from one of the course commander's clerks. “Anyone know him?”
No one knew him the cadets had had their work cut out getting to know their former section officer, their tactics instructor, their course commander, and all the other people who had a say in whether or not they were to become officers. No other officers interested them.
“In one hour at the latest,” said Cadet Hochbauer with an air of superiority, “we shall know exactly how to behave. Until then it's best to reserve judgment. And don't let anyone try and suck up to him too soon!”
This was to be taken as not just a hint but a warning. The cadets round Hochbauer nodded. What was more; there was some sense in the injunction, since it was never advisable to put too much faith in a superior officer whose business was to put them through their paces for several weeks on end.
On this particular morning, therefore, the cadets of H Section were unusually quiet. They slipped uneasily into their places and looked nervously across the bare room towards the instructor's desk and the blackboard.
At the middle desk in the front row sat Cadet Hochbauer, and beside him the section senior. The two conversed together under their breath. Hochbauer gave Kramer advice, and Kramer nodded agreement. Cadets Rednitz and Mösler naturally sat right at the back of the room. Of all those present they were easily the calmest, for they had invested practically nothing in this course to date, either physically or spiritually, and as a result had nothing to lose.
“What are we getting so excited about, children?” asked Rednitz jovially. “It’s quite possible that the new man will be completely accommodating. It's possible too that he'll have limitations, or be blessed with more than his share of stubbornness. In any case the man's an officer, so we must be prepared for anything.”
“We’re going to wait and see,” said Cadet Hochbauer in a tone of rebuke. “It would be a mistake to jump to conclusions, don't you think, Kramer?”
“A great mistake,” said the section senior.
“But what if the new man's like Lieutenant Barkow?” inquired Mösler.
“Then,” said Rednitz, “we’ll again have to put our trust in God, our Cadet Hochbauer, and the effectiveness of a fast-burning fuse.”
