The Bus

Ernst Thälmann Pioneer Organisation Parade
Leipzig, Deutsche Demokratische Republik, 1953
(Source)

If von Lüttwitz hadn't have known better, he could have sworn that he had gone back in time to the 1930s. The only difference between the youth parade marching down the street before him now, and what he remembered from his youth, was the absence of the swastika. The cult of personality in East Germany was still strong, Communist leaders had replaced the Nazi leaders, but the similarities were striking. It made him sick.

He had grown up near Leipzig, he'd gone to university here before the war started, things were somehow the same, yet different at the same time. Most of the rubble and destruction had been cleaned up, no doubt by Germans employed the same way he had been after release from the American POW cage. Not exactly volunteers but driven to return order and cleanliness to their cities and towns.

The Americans found it amusing, the Soviets used it as a tool to get the people to accept the transition to Communism. Most Germans were glad the war was over, some, like the East German leadership, were happy to help the Soviets construct what they just knew would be a worker's paradise.

Von Lüttwitz scoffed and shook his head at the thought. He better get moving, he had a bus to catch.

"Something bothering you, Comrade?" said a man nearby.

Von Lüttwitz turned abruptly and gave the man what his troops used to call his "officer's look."

"Yes, today is a work day, I'm surprised these youths have the time to parade up and down the city streets. It's frivolous." Looking at the man with disgust, he added, "Comrade."

The man lowered his gaze and muttered, "My thoughts exactly, Comrade."

Without waiting for any further interaction with the man, von Lüttwitz walked to the corner where the bus for Dresden was loading. The officials at the bus depot had assured him that the bus made a stop at Reinsberg.

"What is in Reinsberg, Lüttwitz?" The official had glanced at his identity papers when he handed von Lüttwitz his bus ticket and his papers.

"My uncle has a farm near there. I haven't seen them since before the war."

"Just how long were you in the American camps, Lüttwitz?" The man had seemed genuinely interested, he looked around cautiously to make sure no one was in earshot. "I was held in the East until '50, after Stalingrad."

"I was captured near the end of the war, damned Amis kept me in a cage until '48. Then it was clearing rubble. When the West went capitalist, I decided to come home, to Saxony."

He had learned well the lessons they'd taught him about how to get along in the DDR. Thing is, they weren't that different than when they had been under Hitler and the Nazis. The only thing he had trouble getting used to was the loss of the "von" in front of his name. No nobles under Communism they'd pointed out to him when they had given him his papers.

"Have a safe trip, comrade." The way the bus official put it made it sound like what they'd called each other in the Army, not the "Comrade" of the Soviets and Communists.

Von Lüttwitz tucked his papers away in an inside pocket and gave a brusque nod and a quick smile to the bus official, "Danke, Kamerad."

As he boarded the bus he saw a Soviet patrol just down the street, two men and an officer. It took all of his self-control to keep from staring in hatred at the three men. He knew, deep down inside, that the two men were probably conscripts, just doing as they were told. But the officer, it was him, and bastards like him, that had subjugated the eastern provinces of Germany and were diligently molding them into a Communist state.

"Is this seat taken, Comrade?"

A young man gestured at the seat next to von Lüttwitz, he had a look that von Lüttwitz was familiar with, that of the young fanatic. Youths like this had help drag his Germany down into the sewer that was Nazism, now they were intent on replacing that fanatical regime with one imported from the Soviet Union.

"No, it is not, Comrade."

The youth obviously wanted to engage von Lüttwitz in conversation, something he'd rather avoid.

"Look, sorry Comrade, but I've had a long day and I'm off to our field headquarters near Dresden. I'd rather sleep than chat. Is that going to be a problem?"

The light went out of the youth's eyes, thinking that he was dealing with a Party official or, worse yet, a member of the police, he immediately apologized. For the rest of the trip, he kept  to himself.

Von Lüttwitz was starting to doubt the wisdom of this trip.