The Auslander by Paul Dowswell Page A

indiscreet, and although Peter liked him, he sometimes wondered if his new friend would land him in trouble. Segur didn’t take the HJ too seriously, unlike a lot of these boys. But he’d stuck up for Peter when some of the others had tried to bully him. Not that he needed much help. At his second meeting Peter discovered a hidden talent for boxing, which had earned him immediate respect. Any boy who called him ‘Polack Pete’ got thumped.
    Another announcement brought the boys to their feet. ‘Atten-SHUN’ shouted a Nazi official on the podium. The trumpets blew another fanfare and the drums rolled.
    â€˜Eyes RIGHT!’
    The boys turned their heads as one. Heralded by the deafening throb of powerful engines, an open-topped Opel Kapitän accompanied by eight motorcycle outriders drove into the stadium. There he was, Axmann himself, standing in the back of the car, right arm extended in the Nazi salute. A blue haze of exhaust fumes pervaded the arena, causing some of the boys to cough. The car and its entourage circled them on the running track that ran round the outer edge of the field and then drew up at the podium.
    â€˜He’s a fat bastard,’ whispered Segur. Axmann was a little heavy around the middle and under his chin, it was true, but Peter thought he looked impressive enough in his Party uniform.
    â€˜Silence in the ranks,’ shouted Hertz. There might be trouble later.
    Peter felt privileged to see Axmann. His photograph often appeared in the HJ magazine and newspapers. And he had seen him in newsreels, usually at similar events to this. It was a thrill to see one of Germany’s leaders in the flesh. Here was a man who had been in direct contact with the great Nazi chieftains – Himmler, Göring and Goebbels, even the Führer himself.
    Axmann approached the microphones set up on the rostrum and surveyed the crowd. Peter had seen Hitler do this in newsreels, building the tension before a speech.
    Eventually he spoke.
    â€˜Heil Hitler!’
    The whole stadium roared back.
    â€˜HEIL HITLER!’
    Silence fell. Then there was just a brief whistle of feedback from the loudspeakers.
    â€˜Comrades!’ began Axmann. ‘I come to share great news with you!
    â€˜Every one of you represents, for our Fatherland on the march, the symbol of our future. Remember that the earth is in a state of unceasing evolution. Biological and physiological transformations are taking place before our eyes . . .’
    He was losing his audience. Boys snatched puzzled looks at one another, as they tried to fathom these phrases, dimly remembered from half-understood Nazi ideology classes.
    â€˜. . . These will influence generations to come. The German people are not prepared to yield to these mutations like the lower species, like unthinking beasts! On the contrary, we must master and direct this metamorphosis. We must attain that state of human perfection – the Superman!’
    He paused here, obviously expecting applause. The crowd sensed what was expected of them and obliged.
    â€˜To achieve this great revolution we must engender a German race that is mentally and physically pure. The young are the future elite of our race. So you must preserve your bodies and your minds from degrading contacts.’
    â€˜I’m all for degrading contacts,’ whispered Segur, ‘especially if they’re with our Polish maid!’
    Peter tried to keep a straight face. He wished Segur would stop being silly and shut up. He was trying to concentrate on Axmann’s speech. Segur was trying hard not to snigger.
    â€˜Segur,’ whispered the squad leader, ‘control yourself.’
    â€˜The duty of your teachers is to make you lords and rulers of tomorrow! In return we ask for your faithful submission to the discipline imposed upon you and that you obey the orders given you, whatever they may be! HEIL HITLER!’
    A roar of approval greeted the end of the speech.