Revenge by the Book

The sound Lieutenant Scheisskopf loved most in the world was that of spines breaking.

Some generals liked the sound of books being thrown into a pile, or the sound of a match as it was lighted, or even the soft sound of pages folding within themselves, slowly crumbling until their words were lost to oblivion and the ashes. Other soldiers were often mesmerized by the bright, orange light of the fire, raging in its full glory in the middle of the plaza floor, or by the sight of the books’ black remains majestically flying off into the wind. But Lieutenant Scheisskopf thought there was nothing more wonderful than to see the pages leap out of their binding, as people on a sinking ship, and hear what was once one tear into two. Lieutenant Scheisskopf liked to imagine that this was the sound the world had made when it began, and the fact that he could witness the creation of the world every Wednesday pleased him a great deal.

    Today was no ordinary Wednesday, however. Today was the day when Lieutenant Scheisskopf’s trainee, Ulrich, would be in charge of the book burning for the first time. 

When he was first assigned this weasley twenty year old boy, Lieutenant Scheisskopf knew the situation was hopeless. Ulrich was pathetic: clumsy, skinny, short, and with what Lieutenant Scheisskopf could only guess was the boy’s attempt at a mustache. Upon laying eyes on Ulrich, Lieutenant Scheisskopf instinctively knew that he would have to work harder than usual to train the boy. Thus, he had made sure to give Ulrich training of the highest quality by beating the shit out of him whenever he made even the tiniest mistake. Those mistakes ranged from forgetting to straighten his Nazi armband to asking Lieutenant Scheisskopf about a magic Jewish library. 

Lieutenant Scheisskopf had made sure Ulrich couldn’t walk for a month after that. 

But finally, after several bruises and bloody noses, Lieutenant Scheisskopf was certain Ulrich was ready. At least, he hoped so. If Ulrich did everything impeccably, Lieutenant Scheisskopf would be promoted to general.

    Lieutenant Scheisskopf arrived to the plaza where the books were to be burned. People walked merrily on the street and soldiers swept the glass left over from Kristallnacht off the sidewalk. The middle of the plaza, where the books were to be burnt, was empty except for a few Nazi officers. Among them was Ulrich, looking like a child playing pretend in his army uniform. He was talking to another of the soldiers and pretending to be serious. He had his collar proudly open in order to display the array of bruises Lieutenant Scheisskopf had given him, as he would go around town telling girls he was a hero who had valiantly fought against all enemies of the state. His favorite story was the one where a Jew, a communist, and an anarchist walked into a bar and he killed them all with a single silver bullet. In reality, everyone knew that Ulrich was a disgrace to the Führer and had adapted this story from a popular joke. The only reason no one bullied him was because they feared Lieutenant Scheisskopf.

“Ulrich!” Lieutenant Scheisskopf exclaimed. The boy, startled, jumped three feet in the air, quickly buttoned his collar, and then stood rigidly to salute him. “Yes, sir!”

“Is everything in order?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Have the soldiers gone to look for books?”

“Yes, sir!”

“How many have they found?”

“About ten so far, sir! Three copies of the Torah, two copies of The Communist Manifesto, one Kaf--. ”

“What are you, a goddamn stenographer? When the fuck did I ask?” Lieutenant Scheisskopf growled. “What about the plaza? Has it been cleared?”

Ulrich paled. “C-cleared, sir?”

“Yes! Have you checked everyone’s papers, looked around the neighborhood, seen if anyone looks suspicious? You know, actually searched the place?”

“Oh…” Ulrich said, a bead of sweat forming on his temple. “S-searched for...what, sir?

“For enemies of the state, you idiot!”

“Oh, right,” Ulrich said, then hastily added, “Sir!”

“So have you or have you not searched the plaza?”

Ulrich began to fidget. “Sir, um, sir, uh--”

“Yes or no, dipshit?”

“N-no, sir.”

“Goddamn it, Ulrich!” Lieutenant Scheisskopf yelled, grabbing Ulrich by the collar. “If you are the reason I don’t get this promotion, I will hang your balls up a fucking lamp post. You hear me, boy?”

Poor Ulrich, trembling like a leaf at the vivid image his superior had imprinted in his mind, was able only to nod and mutter out a “sir.” Lieutenant Scheisskopf rolled his eyes, released him, and went out to clear the plaza by himself.

  Lieutenant Scheisskopf strolled the streets, holding his gun aloft and smoking. As he was walking, he suddenly dropped his cigarette case. He stooped down quickly to get it, holding his nose as he did so (the cigarettes had fallen behind a dumpster) when suddenly, he heard a pair of hushed voices:

“Quickly, Rachel. Before anyone sees us.”

“I’m coming, Isaac, I’m coming.”

    Lieutenant Scheisskopf immediately got up, cocked his gun, and shot. He only managed to catch a glimpse of a man and woman, unharmed, before they ran off.

“Hey, you! Jewish scum! Come back here!” Lieutenant Scheisskopf yelled, sprinting after them. The man and the woman ran into a back alley, then another. Lieutenant Scheisskopf shot twice. One shot zoomed over the man’s head, and the other grazed the woman’s skin. Lieutenant Scheisskopf growled and, determined to catch his prey, ran faster. The woman and the man ran into an empty street. Lieutenant Scheisskopf, upon spotting a lounging Nazi officer smoking a cigar, yelled something about looking up because there were Jews on the loose and continued his chase. The man and the woman continued to run. The woman fell, but before Lieutenant Scheisskopf could shoot, the man dragged her into a nearby house. 

    Lieutenant Scheisskopf busted the door open with the butt of his rifle and sauntered inside, his heart pumping with a lust for blood. The house was old, and seemed to have been abandoned a long time ago. Dust covered everything like a thick blanket, and the whole place contained that smell of old knowledge that was embedded into every ancient thing. As Lieutenant Scheisskopf took a step forward, the floorboards creaked so audibly that the house seemed a living entity.

    The Lieutenant stayed still, straining his hearing so as to listen to the slightest noise that would be made. His veins pounded with adrenaline, and his every sense was sharpened. Surely, with a house as old as this one, the Jew’s footsteps must be heard, thought Lieutenant Scheisskopf. Yet for what seemed like an eternity, he heard nothing. It seemed impossible to stay still.

    Suddenly, he heard a slight scuffle of footsteps, and blinded by his urge to kill, he slammed open a green door to his left.

Inside was a library.

Lieutenant Scheisskopf’s face turned red as he examined the room. All around him, there were rows and rows and shelves and shelves of books, which gave the illusion that the room stretched on to eternity. If anyone else had walked into the room, they would have noticed the ancient carvings in the shelves, the wonderfully diverse colors that ranged in the books’ spines, the winding staircase at the far left corner which led to a second floor, identical to the first one, and, most importantly, they would have noticed the pair of Jews sneaking out of the room.

  However, Lieutenant Scheisskopf was blinded by his fury. He thought only of the pleasure it was to burn, and pictured himself making a pile of books so high that it reached Heaven. He thought of how he would burn this pile of books with only one matchbox, and when all that remained was a tower of ashes, the Führer would name it in his honor. Then, when all was done, he--

    The sound of a door slamming shut pulled Lieutenant Scheisskopf out of his thoughts. He ran to the door, only to hear the click of a lock and the sound of quick footsteps. Lieutenant Scheisskopf grabbed his rifle and, shouting like a madman, attempted to break the door down. He shot at the door, and watched as the bullet helplessly clanged to the ground. When that didn’t work, he began beating the golden handle with his gun. However, nothing happened; the handle didn’t even dent, not even when he shot it. Lieutenant Scheisskopf looked around in panic. He was trapped. He began to run to one side of the room to find a window, only to realize that the hall stretched on into eternity. He ran back to the door and began to beat the door with the butt of his gun again, huffing with every hit, to no avail. He couldn’t believe it. The Jews had gotten away and now he was trapped in here. In rage, he ground his teeth and hit the door harder.

    Suddenly, he heard the soft sound of footsteps. Lieutenant Scheisskopf began to yell for help. The footsteps quickened. Then, he heard:

“So this is it, Hoffmann?”

“Yes, this is where a passerby saw the Jews go in. I was alerted by a Nazi officer of the Jew’s presence, and decided to follow him. He was running after them, and I saw him go into this house.” The handle shook. “Apparently he locked them in.” A chuckle. “Made our job a whole lot easier.”

Lieutenant Scheisskopf yelled that he was not a Jew, that he was Lieutenant Scheisskopf and demanded to be freed from this hell.

One of the voices--the one not pertaining to Hoffmann--laughed. “Scheisskopf? Oh man, these Jews really must be crazy in order to claim they’re that psychopath.”

Lieutenant Scheisskopf growled and began to call the officers obscene names.

One of the officers banged on the door. “Hey, shut up, you scum!” he growled.

“I don’t like his disrespect,” Hoffmann said.

“I agree. I think we should teach their kind a lesson.”

Scheisskopf began to bang furiously on the door. Somewhere, on the other side of town, the sound of Scheisskopf’s fists on the door coincided perfectly with that of the books hitting the plaza floor. Ulrich stood in the middle of the plaza, and victoriously lifted up the hand which held the matchbox.

In perfect symphony, Ulrich and Hoffmann pulled out a match and lit it. Then, with a careless grace, they threw it to the floor.

People in the plaza cheered at the same time Scheisskopf screamed. He got away from the door as it blazed with fire, and stumbled backwards towards the bookshelves in fear. The fire spread with an unnatural rapidity. It had come straight from hell and was looking for Lieutenant Scheisskopf. On the walls, the fire reflected the looming shadow of an angry clay monster. Scheisskopf dropped his gun and became paralyzed. He looked around, only to see the bookshelves on fire. He looked up, searching for some sort of salvation, but instead saw flaming books descending from the heavens like avenging angels. At that moment, Scheisskopf realized they had come for him, and they were here for revenge. 

Scheisskopf burned, but the library did not burn with him.

Far away, Ulrich stared at the fire and watched the books burn. He began to understand why his superior had loved these burnings so much. He watched as the books’ color was peeled from their skins and as the words faded from their tongues and curled into ashes. At the sound of the books’ spines breaking, Ulrich let out a lovely sigh. He recognized that sound. He knew it was not the sound of the beginning of everything.

It was the sound of Death.