Date: Fri, 10 Sep 2004 14:05:34 -0400
From: carl5de@netscape.net
Subject: OUT OF THE RUBBLE - 20
OUT OF THE RUBBLE - 20
Copyright 2004 by Carl Mason
All rights reserved. Other than downloading one copy for strictly personal
enjoyment, no part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any
form or by any means electronic or mechanical, except for reviews, without
the written permission of the author. Comments on the story are
appreciated and may be addressed to the author at carl5de@netscape.net.
This story contains descriptions of sexual contact between a young adult
male and young male teenagers. Nevertheless, "Out of the Rubble" is
neither a strictly "suck and fuck" exercise nor is it a story that focuses
on the "love of adults for the young"...often without sex or with the mere
suggestion of sex. If you are looking for these types of erotic fiction,
there are fine examples of each on Nifty. Something slightly different is
required here.
However based on real events and places, "Out of the Rubble" is strictly
fictional. Any resemblance to actual events, or locales, or persons,
living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Further, this is homoerotic
fiction designed for the personal enjoyment of legal, hopefully mature,
adults. If you are not of legal age to read such material, if those in
power and/or those whom you trust treat it as illegal, or if it would
create unresolvable moral dilemmas in your life, please leave. Finally,
remember that maturity generally demands that anything other than safe sex
is sheer insanity!
Thank you, Ed C., for your devoted help on this section of the story!
PART 20
(Revisiting the End of Part 19)
Watching his love enthusiastically wreaking destruction on his markers,
Sam's thoughts were not all that different from Andreas's. He loved
Germany and, God knows, he loved his job. Maybe, however, it was a good
time for the two young men to "get out of Dodge," at least for a few weeks.
(Continuing Our Story: Bon Voyage!)
"Not a bad party, is it, Andreas?" Heinrich panted in the blast furnace air
of the living room. Like most of the boys, he was wearing shorts - and
nothing else - on the atypically hot, sticky, early summer night.
"It's great!" agreed a similarly clad Andreas. Raising his voice to be
heard over the pounding music, he added, "You guys are great to throw us a
'going away' party. Sam and I really appreciate it!" Pausing, he added in
a lower voice, "I'm going to miss you, Heinrich."
The hunky dark-blond - sweat pouring down his face and chest - moved
closer. Ignoring the heat and the sweat, he threw his arms around Andreas
who returned the hug. "Don't forget your friends, man!" he mumbled and
planted a quick kiss on the side of his friend's cheek. God, I'd give my
right nut - maybe both of them - to be going to America! Watch out for the
wild Indians, ok?"
Moving closer, Kurt grabbed the back of Heinrich's neck in an enormous paw
before reaching around and slapping Andy on the back. "If you think I'm
going to kiss you, you're mistaken," he snorted, "but I'm going to miss
you, too!" Andy giggled as he affectionately slugged Kurt's shoulder.
"You've got to keep the beasts in line, First Boy!" he shouted above the
music.
And so a very pleasant evening passed as each and every member of Sargent
Ehrhardt's Army gave Sam and Andreas a royal send-off. Remembering the
many funny moments, Andy couldn't stop snickering in bed that night until,
that is, Sam covered his mouth with a heavy hand and demanded that he shut
up and let him get some sleep!
The next morning, the boys, aided by the Major's driver, packed the
travelers' gear into the Jeep as they prepared to depart for the Rhein-Main
military airfield near Frankfurt. ("I can't believe you rate your own
driver!" Andy razzed Sam, as they finally strode to the Jeep. "Man, what
will happen when you get your first star - maybe red stripes down the sides
of your underwear shorts and a little pink Sherman? In your Army, do the
stripes get wider and the tanks bigger - and, maybe, pinker - as you add
stars?") Glaring at his tormentor, Sam climbed into the vehicle and they
were soon off amidst the shouts - and wild barking - of everyone in DAS
HAUS.
The uneventful trip seemed short, although Andreas was not unaware that
several other Jeeps, all equipped with heavy, mounted weapons, were never
far away. Finally, they reached the airfield and screeched to a halt in
front of the Operations building. After checking in, the two were directed
to drive over to one of several big, dark-khaki-colored B-24s that sat
idling on the tarmac, a plane named "Saucy Sally." "My God, even your
planes are straight," Andreas muttered. Their luggage loaded, they waited.
Finally, an Army Air Corps captain approached, saluted Sam, and said,
"Welcome, gentlemen. You'll be our only passengers today. I thought you'd
like to have some information about our flight across the Pond. This baby
is a B-24D, one of the heavy bombers that blasted Hitler's main oil
refinery at Ploesti in Romania. She's powered by four big Pratt & Whitney
engines. Unloaded, she can move at about 300 mph (482 km/h) at 25,000 feet
(7620 meters). The maximum unloaded range is about 3500 miles (5632.7 km).
"How far is it to Boston, sir?" Andreas asked. "Three thousand six hundred
sixty-one point six miles (5892.7 km), to be exact," the Captain answered
promptly. "Then how are we going to make it all the way?" Andreas
persisted. "Well, we'll have to land and refuel," the officer replied.
"By the way, if we snag a sperm whale as we land, don't try to get out and
lift her off! Even without a bomb load, this little girl weighs 32,605 lbs
(13789.4 kg). Just be happy YOUR girl doesn't weigh that much!" he grinned
at Andreas, who snickered. "One more thing, Andreas, if you'd like to see
the cockpit - and maybe fly her for a bit - ask the Lieutenant. Just wait
until we've been in the air for awhile and we're sure that she's going to
hold together, ok?" Andreas's eyes widened and lit up as he turned towards
Sam and grinned. "Ok, gentlemen, I'll get back to preparing us for
take-off. It won't be long before we're in the air." He saluted Sam and
returned towards the cockpit.
Perhaps a couple of hours into the flight, Sam (a somewhat nervous frown on
his face) turned to Andreas and said, "I need to tell you a few things
about my home, Andy. Your going to love America, but there are some
differences between life there and life at The House. Life at DAS HAUS has
finally become pretty relaxed. You know... Heinrich can plant a big kiss
on you and a big jock like Kurt doesn't give a damn." Andreas blushed, but
remained silent. "Life in the States is more like life in the rest of
Tieferwald - maybe a bit worse. Some people say that it's the most
homophobic country on earth. I do know that gays generally hide their
feelings unless they're very, very sure about the person with whom they're
dealing. Holy shit, men don't even kiss in public - and they drop their
hand almost before they finish shaking yours! My parents will love you and
respect you, but it's very unlikely that they will show you any affection.
And I hate to think what would happen if you reminded them that we're gay -
let alone, God forbid, pressured them to change or even modify their
beliefs."
"They know?" Andreas asked.
"Yeah, they know, but...hey...they just don't allow it to enter their
minds. Please don't get mad at them - or at me. They are what they are,
just as is every human being."
"But, Sam," Andreas protested, "that sounds exactly like the 'Leben und
Leben lassen' ['Live and let live.'] attitude that you've said 'isn't
enough.' What about leaving things better than we found them?" "You're
right, Andy," his lover said, "but in war we can't always fight every
battle that comes our way. We have to choose the right fight, in the right
place, and at the right time. I chose Tieferwald, but I have never been
able to chance destroying my relationship with my parents in Boston. I'm
not particularly proud of that - I admit that there's something a bit
hypocritical about it - but that's the way it is." Andreas nodded, but he
seemed to slip off into another of his "meditative" moods as the trip
continued.
Finally, after a refueling stop in Reykjavik, Iceland, a glorious stint in
the B-24's cockpit that restored Andreas's effervescent spirits, a few
hours of napping, and over 18 hours from the time they had left Rhein-Main,
the flight of B-24s approached the Massachusetts coast. Jumping from one
side of the plane to the other, the youngster eagerly peered from the
windows over at the lights of Boston as they passed by on their descent to
Hanscom Field just 19 miles (30.6 km) to the northwest.
Given the fact that it was only 0400 hours (4:00 am), they gladly accepted
an offer from the Captain and his crew to join them for breakfast after
they had finished their paper work,. (Sam allowed that it was just "a mite
early" for them to appear on his parents' doorstep!) Inasmuch as the
Captain knew someone, who knew someone else, who knew someone who was going
into Boston, Sam and Andreas were on the way into the city not long after
the sun had risen.
(Home in Boston)
As the Army truck chugged its way up Beacon Hill past the gold-domed
Massachusetts State House, the Corporal who was driving spat tobacco juice
out the window and allowed that this was a "pretty ritzy" neighborhood.
"Well, it was, Corporal, but it's changing. A lot of old families have
moved out, but mine has been here for a long time...and they like it. You
know...it's home," Sam said affably. Turning to Andreas, he grinned and
asked if he were ready to use his English. "Don't worry, Big Guy your
English has been getting better and better! You'll do fine," he added.
Andreas grunted. "Up there on the right, Corporal, just beyond the next
gas light!" When the truck stopped, Sam thanked the driver and the young
men climbed out of the cab and retrieved their heavy backpacks from the
rear of the vehicle. As it pulled away from the slate curb, Sam put his
arm around Andy's shoulders and stood looking up at the beautiful Greek
Revival brick structure. "Well, Andy, we're home...home in Boston. Come
on." Walking up the steps, he pulled the ornate metal bell pull and waited
only for a minute or two before the door opened and the scene disintegrated
into happy familial chaos.
By mid morning, Sam and Andreas had eaten a second breakfast (accompanied
by two cups of that which even Andreas had to admit was truly magnificent
coffee!), small gifts brought from Germany had been given...and
appropriately praised, Mrs. Peters had obviously fallen in love with
Andreas (behaving, Sam assured him later, with completely atypical
emotion), and Mr. Peters (a Boston lawyer) had insisted that before they
went back to Germany they HAD to enjoy the family "cottage" down on the
Cape. Finally, Mrs. Peters urged them to take their backpacks up to their
bedrooms and then return for another cup of coffee.
Closing the door to "his" bedroom and leaning back against the wall,
Andreas stood and furiously GLARED at Sam. "SAM...SAM! NEIN! NEIN!
NEIN!" "In English, Andy," Sam remonstrated. "I said, 'NO!'" Andreas spat
out. Then close to tears, he softened his tone of voice and wailed, "Sam,
I love you. How in hell am I supposed to sleep if I'm not in your arms?
Verdammtes englisch! Wie sagt man, 'Ich wuerde eher nach Hause gehen'?"
["Damned English! How does one say, 'I'd rather go home?'"]
Sam gathered the young man into his arms and stood, kissing his neck and
murmuring soft endearments into his ear. "Andy, please. It's only for a
few nights. She means nothing bad by it. As a matter of fact, I think she
has accepted you as a second son. It's just her way. Please...for me?"
Andreas sputtered and moaned, but he knew that there was very little in
this world that he could deny Sam. Finally, he grunted, "Ok...but only
under protest!" and stiffly marched into the adjoining bathroom to soak his
face in cold water. Sam exhaled for the first time in three or four
minutes!
When his love returned, he said, "You must be exhausted, babe. It was a
long, tiring flight. We've been up for over a day with only a few winks of
sleep on the plane. Would you rather take a nap or would you prefer to see
a little of Boston. I have to warn you: In this town one does best to
walk. Every year, a few people who don't live here try to drive their cars
in town - and are never seen again! The streets are laid out on 17th
century cow paths, and there's absolutely no rhyme or reason to them," he
explained, hoping that a small joke (even if true!) would cheer Andy up.
It worked. A little smile crossed Andy's lips and he said he'd rather see
a bit of Sam's hometown. There'd be time later for him to sleep "in his
cage." Sam shook his head and grinned at the lad.
Returning to the breakfast nook, they accepted a third cup of coffee.
Mr. Peters asked about their plans. "Well, to start with, Father," he
began, "I think I'd like to show Andreas just a bit of the town. Does that
conflict with any of your plans?" "No, not at all, Samuel. We'll see you
come early evening. Well, Andreas, welcome to Boston. We're happy to see
you and hope that you enjoy your visit." Only Sam knew how hard his father
was trying - FOR HE DID KNOW - and gave him full credit.
As they walked and down Beacon Hill on paths in the Boston Common, Andreas
turned to Sam, saying, "I think I've figured out why you love the City Park
in Tieferwald so. It reminds you of the Common!" "Not so, Big Guy," Sam
responded. "It's where I first met you!" Grinning, for he HAD scored a
point, Sam began filling Andy in on some of the biggest historical sights
in his town. The (new) State House and, then on Tremont Street, the Park
Street Church, King's Chapel, and the Old Granary Burying Ground all came
under his scrutiny. They stopped at Faneuil Hall before wandering into the
Italian district in the North End. As they sat on a bench at the Old North
Church, munching on a wonderful loaf of Italian bread, Sam asked Andreas if
he had any "first impressions" of Boston.
"Well, Sam," Andy responded, "I'd have to mention the foreign influence.
The German people are so...similar - and they become more so every day with
the arrival of 'expellees.' Your country is such a patchwork of
immigrants. English-Americans (like your family), Italian-Americans,
Irish- Americans... Wow! Secondly, I'd have to mention the age of the
city - especially since I'm seeing places built in the 1600s - even if the
Common was used as the town's cow pasture then! - and the 1700s. And, Sam
the buildings aren't lying on the ground in pieces that tanks and bombers
have smashed into rubble! They're still living parts of your history!
Finally, I guess I am already impressed by the health and energy of
Americans. At home, most people are still pretty well beaten up. It's
hard to rebuild when the people are so tired and discouraged." Grinning,
he asked, "Am I on the right track...after less than one day in America?"
Sam had, of course, fallen in love with the young lad on the very first day
that he had discovered him, near death, in the Tieferwald's City Park.
(See the end of Part 1 plus Part 2.) Nevertheless, he had never ceased to
be amazed by the kid's raw intelligence! So many accurate perceptions for
less than a day in America! "Yeah, Andy, you're right on track," he
answered. "And how about things that you don't like so much?"
"Not much there," Andreas grinned. "I am having one hell of a time having
to speak so much English. Sure, Uncle Erich taught me a little in
Pressburg, you've helped me a lot over the last couple of years, and the
teacher at school is great! Still, it's so much easier to speak German, he
sighed. Also, Sam, I'm not at all sure about your language!" "How so?"
Sam murmured. "Well, there are times when I can barely understand people
in Boston. Are they speaking a dialect like the people around Frankfurt?"
"We call it an 'accent,'" Sam allowed. For example, New Englanders have
real problems with 'Rs.' If the word has an "R," we take it out; if it
doesn't, we often ADD one! Hence, 'park your car' becomes 'pak yuh cah'
and 'yacht' becomes 'yart!'" Making a rude noise, Andy rolled back on the
bench in near hysterics. "No dialect! Ha! Big joke!" On the way back
into the downtown area, the young men stopped in the market area for a bowl
of...chowduh (chowder). Beginning to giggle, Andy tired to concentrate on
simply shoveling the delicious stuff into his mouth - but he wasn't
completely successful. In fact, Sam had quite a few white specks on his
upper clothing that he'd have to clean off later!
When they returned home after several hours of urban hiking, both young men
were tired enough for a short nap. As Andy passed Sam to continue next
door to his bedroom, he actually turned around, bared his teeth, and
GROWLED! 'God, I hope he's kidding!' Sam thought.
Following a light supper (i.e., "suppuh"), the family simply sat in
comfortable chairs in the living room and caught up on each other's
adventures. At one point, Mrs. Peters turned to Andreas and asked about
his early years, the years before he had met Sam. Sam stirred
uncomfortably, for he knew how difficult a story it was. Nevertheless,
Andy went on to relate how long his family had lived in the Slovakian part
of Czechoslovakia, how ethnic and religious tensions had risen in the late
'30s and early '40s, and how he had witnessed all of his family, save one
brother, slaughtered by a mob of Slovaks, Russians, and just plain thugs.
Although he was becoming increasingly distraught, he also told them how he
had seen his last brother, nine year-old Jurgen, murdered by bandits as
their small band of refugees tried to cross the forest into Bavaria. In
tears, he finished his summary by stating that he would now be dead had it
not been for Sam's finding him and taking care of him. The boy's story
brought complete silence to the room. Finally, Sam's mother rose, walked
unsteadily over to Andreas, ran her fingers through his soft light hair,
placed her hands at the sides of his head, and kissed him on the forehead.
"You have another family now, Andreas," she whispered. She then turned and
walked up the central staircase, dabbing at her eyes with a small
handkerchief. Losing all fear of offending, Sam walked over to the boy,
pulled him up out of his chair, and stood with his arms around him.
Andreas finally broke away crying and ran up the stairs.
Sam's stunned father put his pipe down, wiped his glasses, and swallowed
convulsively. Finally, he pulled himself together and spoke to his son.
"You did the right thing, Sam," he said. "I'm proud of you." (Sam could
scarcely believe what his father had said - or that he had called him
"Sam." It was the first time in his memory that he had ever done so.)
Almost as if regretting his show of emotion, Mr. Peters asked in a more
conversational tone of voice, "What's on for tomorrow? Sam said that he
expected they would sleep late and explained that they had an afternoon
meeting at the office of the United Relief Agencies. "And tomorrow night?"
Sam's father asked. When Sam told him that they had no plans, Mr. Peters
noted that one of the last Boston Pops concerts of the Season was to be
held in Symphony Hall - a concert of light European music. Did Sam think
Andreas would enjoy it? Sam looked at his father with sheer amazement.
They always had Season's tickets for the Boston Symphony. The tickets of
both organizations were always completely sold out. His father had to have
bought tickets for tomorrow night's event weeks ago - and yet he had ASKED
if he were interested! "I'm sure Andy would love that, Dad," he said, "and
so would I." "Good," Mr. Peters said in a husky voice. "Breakfast will be
ready whenever you get up. No one will disturb you." Almost as if he
couldn't believe what he was saying, he added, "Now, go up to your young
man - and take care of him."
Sam stood at Andreas's bedroom door, muttered "Shit!" and entered.
Throwing his clothes onto a chair, he slid into bed and held the softly
sobbing boy. "It's ok, Andy, I'm here." "Gott sei Dank" ["Thank God"],
Andy sniffled.
Promptly at 1400 hours (2:00 pm) the next afternoon, the uniformed Major
and Andreas appeared at the downtown headquarters of the United Relief
Agencies. They were promptly shown to the office of Mr. William Cantor,
the International CEO of the organization. Mr. Cantor's secretary greeted
the young men warmly and buzzed her boss. Even she was a little flustered
when the headman came out of his office to welcome them. "Mrs. Grady would
you please have some refreshments brought to my office?" he asked
pleasantly. He then ushered them into a beautiful office that overlooked
Central Boston and Massachusetts Bay beyond. "We finally meet," he
exclaimed. "You do know that if we had ten more men such as yourselves
that many of the relief problems that are plaguing us would just get up and
go away? Even UNRRA (the United Nations Relief and Rehabilitation
Administration) is envious of our having you!" The three-sided
conversation that followed was far-ranging and probing. What could be done
to reduce the bottlenecks that plagued the distribution of relief supplies
after they had reached the target country? How in the world had Sam
managed to involve Tieferwald's adolescents in helping rather than
hindering relief work? (Sam turned to Andreas, grinned widely, and allowed
him to field that one!) When civil governments didn't exist, what might
persuade the Military to cooperate just a bit more willingly with civilian
agencies? Grinning conspiratorially, he asked how Sam had managed to have
BOTH the Tieferwald military AND the American Zone Commandant's office
eating out of his hand...simultaneously! And so it went...on and on.
Finally, as the clock read nearly 3:45 p.m. (1545 hours), Mr. Cantor sat
back. "Gentlemen," he said, "I wonder if you would kindly accompany me to
our small auditorium."
Guided by the CEO, Sam and Andreas quickly found themselves on the stage of
the URA auditorium. Asking them to sit down for a few minutes, Mr. Cantor
strode to the podium and called the packed hall to order. "Ladies and
Gentlemen," he proceeded," Thank you leaving your busy desks to join me
this afternoon. We have as our guests two of our most successful
representatives in Occupied Germany - indeed in all of Europe - our
representative in Tieferwald am Main and his Special Assistant for German
Youth. We come here today to thank them and to honor them for their
devoted service to the URA and to humanity. Major Samuel Peters, I call
upon you to step forward and receive a small token of our esteem. After
Sam had accepted a small statue from the CEO, Andreas was called forward
and honored by the presentation of a second statue. Warm applause, a few
short conversations with key figures of the Agency - among them a short
conversation accidentally overheard by Andreas between Cantor and Sam in
which Sam asked about the possibility of a post-military career in relief
work - and the repeated thanks of the URA Executive completed the
afternoon's activities.
In the taxi that returned the young men to the Peters' Beacon Street home,
Andreas and Sam examined the statues that had been packed in beautiful
wooden presentation cases. Both stood about 10 inches (25.4 cm) in height;
both were hand-carved in Boston from white Carrara marble, both stood on
small pedestals circled by small brass plaques. Sam's statue was an
exquisite copy of the "Winged Victory of Samothrace;" Andreas's, of a naked
young athlete crossing the finish line, his arms raised in victory.
(Andreas, a wicked smirk on his face, told Sam that he shouldn't even THINK
of trading!) Sam's plague read, "To Major Samuel Peters, USA, for Service
on Behalf of the German People, United Relief Agencies, July 10, 1947."
Andreas's was identical other than it carried his name and read, ". . . for
Service on Behalf of German Youth . . . ." On their arrival home, Mr. and
Mrs. Peters were obviously as pleased as the boys.
In the taxi on the way home, when Sam had asked Andreas if there were
anything else in Boston that he would like to see, Andy had (rather shyly)
mentioned that he would like to visit the Harvard Medical School. Soon
after arriving home, Sam went to the phone and, calling a number given him
by Chris Kendrick, arranged an appointment on the morrow with Kendrick's
old mentor, Dr. Seth Parker. When he mentioned this to Andy, the young man
simply smiled and gave him a warm hug.
As their taxi approached the beautiful entrance to Boston's Symphony Hall
that had been opened in 1900 as one of the finest musical performance sites
in the world, Sam continued to fill Andreas in on the Symphony, the Pops,
and the Hall. Reaching the entrance, they soon were ushered to a superbly
located five-person table, one of many that dotted the Hall's front-center
for Pops concerts. (Sam quickly leaned over towards his father and again
warmly thanked him.) For his part, Andreas proudly accepted Mr. Peters
offer of a pre-concert glass of Champagne, not long before the Maestro
approached the podium to enthusiastic applause. He then sat absolutely
enthralled by a selection of lighter pieces by European masters. On the
way home, the young man was absolutely ecstatic. It had been, he said - in
a continuing flow of breathless comments - the most beautiful night of his
life. Mrs. Peters finally had to reach back and play-slap at Sam who was
vainly trying to turn off Andreas's wide-open verbal spigot!
After a leisurely Friday-morning breakfast during which they gloated over a
short article and a photo taken at the URA awards ceremony that appeared in
the morning's "Boston Globe," the duo boarded the good old MBTA (the
Boston-area subway system) and traveled across the Charles River to
Cambridge. Easily locating the main building of the Medical School, they
were received with extreme warmth by Dr. Parker. The older man informed
them that Dr. Kendrick had already mentioned Andreas and that if and when
the young man were ever interested in attending Harvard College and/or the
Medical School, he would be "honored" to give him whatever help he could.
Further, he said that a letter from Dr. Kendrick was on file, a letter that
would be "opened and considered" should Andreas ever apply for admission to
the Medical School. During an hour's chit-chat - during which time the
physician cagily sized up Andreas...and obviously liked what he heard and
saw - and an obligatory cup of tea, they departed and made their way back
to the subway. Andreas was clearly pleased by the meeting, but still
seemed somewhat withdrawn...maybe, "thoughtful" is a better word.
On the return trip, Andreas shyly (and rather hesitantly) reminded Sam that
he was a "forest boy" and wondered if Sam would be "disappointed" if they
left the city "soon" to enjoy some country. "Disappointed? Hell no, Andy!
As a matter of fact, we leave for some of the most beautiful country in the
world tomorrow morning!" Having accepted the use of a family car for the
trip, Sam sat in the driver's seat the next morning as Andreas talked with
his father in the open doorway. His hands on the boy's shoulders, Sam
watched his father reach down into a pocket and give him a small, paper
envelope. So surprised was he by what happened next, he actually forgot to
ask Andy about the packet. Not quite believing his eyes, he saw them
spontaneously embrace before his love trotted down the steps towards the
car. Waving, they left for another grand adventure. (What wondrous things
had happened to his life from the very first day that Andreas entered it!)
(To Be Continued)
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AUTHOR'S NOTE: Rather obviously, the story of Sam and Andreas's adventure
in America has not yet been completed. Part 21 that continues the
adventure will be along in just a few days. Enjoy!
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