Our Father: Johann's War, #1

Our Father

Johann’s War Book 1

Copyright © James Farner 2016

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CONTENTS

Erich Brandt 1919-1923

Johann Brandt 1925-1933

––––––––

1

May 3rd 1919

Ernst Rohm led a small squad of the Bavarian Free Corps for Border Patrol East. Fresh from the horrors of the trenches, this squad of men, newly unemployed after the standing down of the majority of the army, made their way through the centre of Munich. Amongst the neoclassical facades and the remains of the gothic buildings from centuries ago, they routed out communists and those who would seek to destroy what remained of Germany.

One of their scouts, a slip of a man, approached their car. Three streets from Marienplatz, on the east side.

Rohm’s moustache rose slightly as he sneered and ordered the car to drive on. Their convoy of three included unemployed soldiers who had refused to accept the traitorous armistice. Rohm sat back down from his standing position and adjusted his grey peaked hat.

As they drove through the almost empty streets the chugging of the engine drowned out the sound of distant gunshots. He was confident that Colonel von Epp’s men would destroy the communists and dismantle the Bavarian Socialist Republic that had been established in Bavaria, a German south-eastern state, during the chaos of the country’s surrender.

Leave no survivors. Rohm’s beady eyes looked from side to side, like he was searching for the rats themselves as they huddled in the darkest corners. He didn’t need to see if these men had heard him. They had fought with him during the Great War. He would trust them with his life.

Anton Drexler, a round-faced man with round spectacles, was the one man without any evidence of military service. Dressed in a suit, he belonged to the tiny German Workers’ Party.

Drexler is one of the few voices to speak for Germany, thought Rohm.

Will this fighting not just lead to more guerrilla warfare? I don’t appreciate being shot in the streets by some paper boy with a gun hidden in his pocket.

Rohm looked at him in disgust. You asked for a revolution and you got one. The communists have been allowed to sit here for so long because we hadn’t arrived yet. It’s not easy to bring back millions of men from the trenches when they’ve been stabbed in the back.

Drexler nodded. Will you still follow through with membership of our party?

Rohm thought about it. He would have preferred to join an already established party, but that would only last so long. His soldiers would need some sort of cover sooner or later. They were unemployed and unlikely to find work in any official military capacity anytime soon. He wouldn’t betray his men by accepting a cushy position elsewhere in Germany. He would stick with them until he died.

If you grow. Tell me, said Rohm as they continued to get closer and the gunfire grew louder. Suppose I were to join the party this moment, and you gave me a membership card, which number would I be?

Drexler raised his eyebrows out of confusion. Your number?

Yes, my number. My membership number.

Drexler looked to the overcast sky. If I remember correctly, 517.

Rohm licked his lips. He wasn’t impressed with 517 members. It was a good number for any small party in a city with hundreds of similar parties. He only wished that Drexler hadn’t so obviously told a lie because the German Workers’ Party always started counting from 500 to make them seem bigger. For now, he would watch things play out. It didn’t make any sense for him to move quickly at this stage.

Their convoy juddered to a halt and every soldier hanging onto the front of the vehicle jumped off with their rifles and raced to take aim at the communists. The communists hanging red flags from some of the buildings around Marienplatz tried to flee for cover like rats. Rohm, on the rear car, felt his heart surge as the thrill of combat and violence overtook him. He took his semi-automatic Luger pistol from his pocket and climbed out of the car. His men rushed ahead of him, eager to impress, eager to be recommended for some sort of promotion.

By the time Rohm strode towards the fallen communists lying in pools of blood, their flags scattered around them. His Freikorps stood to attention like the soldiers they were. In perfect parade formation they waited for his approval.

Rohm glanced back to find Drexler sitting in the car, crouching slightly behind the front window.

Coward.

Well done, said Rohm to his men. Well done indeed. Germany thanks you. In mere hours the rotten heart of the Bavarian socialists will be ripped out. These traitors will be nothing more than stains upon our history. He glimpsed a body out of the corner of his eye. But you have not finished the job. You are soldiers and patriots of your country, but you are not yet ruthless.

Rohm strode over to the body he saw twitch and kicked it over with his boot. The young man with a red neckerchief turned around his neck that resembled a noose. He looked up at him with wild eyes as Rohm raised his pistol and fired a single shot into the man’s skull, snuffing out his red dreams.

Ruthlessness is what we will need to win back our fatherland. The old fogies of the officer corps have no sway here. We are issuing a new order, a new revolution. First Munich and then the whole of Germany.

His soldiers cheered and saluted him before he told them to stand at ease. They began milling around smoking cigarettes and chatting over the dead bodies of their enemies. Rohm had to wait for more intelligence to filter through before his own personal convoy of revolutionaries could continue the fight. The Freikorps all over the city were winning back territory as the so-called Bavarian Socialist Republic crumbled.

Ernst.

Josef. Rohm saluted Colonel von Epp’s intelligence officer. A pleasure for you to arrive here. I was hoping that you’d have somewhere else for us to go. I’m sure you know that my men are eager.

Joseph bowed his shaved head. I can only wish. I came on orders of the colonel. You have new orders. I hear that Herr Drexler is with you.

Yes, Rohm nodded his head in the direction of the car. Hiding like a rat. If only he wasn’t such a good speaker I would think him a communist coward.

The colonel is curious about his party, said Eckhart. The German Workers’ Party is one of the few parties that has regular speaking sessions in the beer halls. A fiery young speaker seems to be taking an interest and he thinks that he’s worth looking into.

Rohm raised his eyebrows. I’m no spy. I fail to see why this has anything to do with me.

The colonel believes that you had an interest in political matters, matters of revolution against the republic and the people who stabbed us in the back. If you have no interest, I’ll tell him that he was mistaken.

Rohm’s eyes gleamed as they looked Eckhart over. Was this upstart playing around with him?

Then I’ll take care to watch over the party. Drexler believes that I’m fully behind the cause. On the way here, he wanted me to join the party. I said that I would think about it.

Then take advantage, Ernst. It may be helpful. Revolution can come from the tiniest of seeds, no?

This fiery young speaker you mentioned. There are many of them in Germany. And none of them take any action. Men can shout and they can cry all they like, but as you can see here. Rohm gestured at the dead communists around him. If you don’t have the guns to back up your words, they are worthless.

Eckhart didn’t follow his gesture. It may well be nothing, but the colonel would appreciate it.

Very well, what’s the man’s name?

A corporal from the Reichswehr. Recipient of the Iron Cross first class for bravery. His name is Adolf Hitler.

Erich Brandt

1919-1923

2

Erich Brandt walked quickly through the passage under the old town hall decorated with figures of Morris dancers. Blond, blue-eyed, and a chin that any heavyweight boxer would be proud of, he strode with an air of confidence. Oliver Rosen hopped at his side, taking almost two steps to his one. The fourteen-year-old and his scratchy voice always bothered Erich, but his focus was entirely on the task at hand.

Will you hurry up? said Oliver. Johann’s not going to last long.

He’ll be fine. Erich turned his nose up at him. How much damage can a bunch of thirteen and fourteen-year-olds really do? Besides, it’s his own fault. I’ve had to save him more times than I can count. Erich pushed Oliver out of his path. And you are not helping.

Erich left the passenger tunnel and Oliver jumped in front of him again.

What do you mean I’m not helping? I came to find you, didn’t I?

You did. But you always tell my little brother that he can fight anyone in the world. You give him a big head and you know full well that neither of you are up to scratch. Do you really think that he’s got a chance against some of these people?

They started it. Oliver pouted.

Oh shut up. Erich pushed Oliver away and increased his pace so that Oliver had to run to keep up with him.

Around the corner he spotted the little grouping of fighters. He was not surprised to find Johann already on the floor receiving a kicking. Erich gritted his teeth and sprinted towards his assailants. They only spotted him with enough time to get their hands up before his fists broke through their defences. In mere seconds, the group was on the floor with bloody noses.

Now piss off home again. And if you touch him again I’ll break your jaws.

The cluttering of children his brother’s age nodded and they groaned in equal measure as they picked up their caps and sprinted away. Erich was only two years older than the boys, but the size difference was unheard of. Well over six foot, Erich usually fought with boys much older than himself. The same blessings hadn’t been afforded to his brother Johann.

Thanks. Johann moved out of his ball shape. Blood ran down his face and a stray knuckle had split his bottom lip.

Erich reached out a hand. Johann took it, but when Erich pulled him up half way he let go. His little brother flopped back onto the ground again.

What was that for? Johann hit the cobbled stones with his hand.

For forcing me to come running to you again.

Johann rolled his eyes. Wouldn’t call it running. I sent Oliver to get you ages ago when they came for me.

No, I didn’t run. Erich wrenched Johann up by the collar of his rough coat. I walked, a leisurely one that took a suitable amount of time for me to think about how I was going to come at them. And I’ll be even slower next time you call me until you learn that you can’t use me every time you have a problem.

Well, aren’t you nice?

I never said I was nice. But I’m not callous enough to let you get what you deserve. Come, we’re going home.

I don’t want to go home yet. Mother said we don’t have to be back until this evening.

Erich eyed up Oliver. Go home.

Oliver didn’t protest, but fled at a brisk pace with his head down and his hands in his pockets. Johann stared open-mouthed as his friend disappeared without a whimper of resistance.

There, now you have nothing to do, so you can come home with me and explain to mother and father why their youngest son looks like he’s just come back from the war. Doesn’t that sound like a good way to spend the day?

You’re only two years older than me. I don’t know who you think you are.

Erich cuffed him around the back of the head. His cap flew off his head again. I’m looking out for you. One of these days you’re going to get yourself into trouble, and I don’t want to have to explain to mother why we have to visit you in hospital. Erich planted his foot on top of the cap as Johann tried to pick it up. Do you understand?

God, will you stop?

Erich took his foot off the cap. One day you’ll learn that I won’t always be around to clean up your mess.

––––––––

The Brandt family lived on the east side of Munich, close to the banks of the River Isar. The apartment blocks of the east were far from the political unrest gripping the centre of the city. Erich kept glancing at Johann to make sure that he didn’t try to break away and run. He wasn’t in the mood to chase Johann again, not after the previous time where he had spent three hours hunting him down on orders from his father.

Erich kept a hand on him as they walked down Glockenbach Street. The 19th century apartments all looked the same, with multiple floors and dull exteriors. High windows shot up into the sky and steep steps made the thighs of every resident strain.

Erich –

No I’m not coming up with a story for you to get away with. You think I’m going to jump in for you all the time?

Johann stayed silent as he made his way upstairs. The Brandts lived on the third floor, which gave them a view over the river a few streets away. Erich had loved it when the family had moved here during the Great War. His father had fought at the front as a reserve called in to man the Hindenburg Line when the Allies were threatening to cross the border of the old German Empire.

When Bruno Brandt returned from the war, Erich barely recognised the man. He had started to grey, even though he was barely forty, and he seemed quieter, more pensive. In the three-room apartment, Bruno Brandt normally read the paper or prepared for work at the BMW factory, which had since had to wind down since the Treaty of Versailles banned it from making aeroplane engines.

Oh my god. Julia Brandt fell to her knees before Johann. What happened to you?

She reached out to touch the dried blood on his face. He grimaced when her finger brushed his cheek. Don’t touch it, mother. It’s nothing.

Julia’s face became a mask of stone as she recovered from her brief hysteria. She grabbed him by the ear and dragged him into the little kitchen, a tiny room just off from the living room. Erich didn’t follow as the sounds of torturous cleaning began.

Johann screamed as Julia began the usual process of wiping him down and scolding him for getting into yet another fight. It all happened so often that none of them needed an explanation any longer.

Good afternoon, father. Erich approached Bruno, who hadn’t looked up from the newspaper once since they returned home. How’s work?

Bruno removed the pipe from his mouth and puffed out a clump of smoke. How’s work? What do you mean how’s work? Versailles put an end to all that. They sent me and the rest of the boys home. Nothing for us to do until they find something else.

I’m sure they’ll find something for you to do. This is only temporary.

Bruno scoffed. What are they going to build now? Automobiles? Don’t make me laugh. I’ll be out of a job within six months, just you wait. And that means me and your mother are going to need you to find something. Can’t be feeding you without bringing anything into the house.

Oh come on, father, you know there aren’t any other jobs in this city. The war’s destroyed everything. If a business doesn’t have money, it isn’t hiring anyone. If a business does have money, Versailles stops it from producing anything. Where am I going to find a job?

Bruno shook his head. Well, keep trying. I’m sure something will come up.

Johann shouted again as Julia pushed him out of the kitchen. His blond hair had gone askew and his piercing blue eyes contrasted with the bruises that had already started to blossom on his cheeks.

He must have taken a hell of a beating, thought Erich.

Who was he fighting? said Julia to Erich.

Erich shook his head. I didn’t recognise them. I don’t think they came from this part of Munich. I doubt it was anyone special. I fought them off and they didn’t say anything.

Did you hurt them? Julia narrowed her eyes at him.

What sort of a question is that to ask me, mother?

Erich, she growled through clenched teeth. Did you hurt them?

No, mother. I only scared them away.

Julia sighed and had to steady herself against the cabinet that held all the best china. It had come from his mother’s grandmother and he had never seen it leave that cabinet yet. Even Christmas wasn’t good enough to bring it out.

Bruno cleared his throat and removed his pipe from his mouth. Everyone went silent. Who started the fight?

The question was one that Johann should have answered, but everyone in the family knew that Bruno was directing it at Erich. He was the only one they assumed wouldn’t lie. The silence passed between them as Erich thought about what to say. Of course, Johann started the fight. Johann always started the fights. Never in any scrap had he not started it.

Right. Bruno put his paper aside and heaved himself out of the armchair. He unlatched his belt and began to uncoil it.

They did, Erich started quickly. Oliver will tell you the same thing. I was standing across from them when they attacked him for no reason. Johann never said a thing to them. There were three or four of them and they attacked him like vultures.

Bruno stopped running the belt out of his loops and nodded. The tension seemed to flow out of Julia as Bruno inspected the faces of both his sons, before returning to his pipe and paper without another