Date: Fri, 1 Oct 2004 12:40:07 -0400
From: carl5de@netscape.net
Subject: OUT OF THE RUBBLE - 27

OUT OF THE RUBBLE - 27

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 27

(Revisiting the End of Part 26)

Lying peacefully side-by-side on their backs, a deeply satisfied Andreas
looked over at his friend.  Though [Heinrich's] face was peaceful, even
joyful, tears were slowly trickling down his cheeks.  Andy slowly rolled
over and tenderly kissed them off.

(Continuing Our Story: Oktoberfest!)

Struggling up the final grade, the full team of horses wheezed as they
pulled the wagon of boys from DAS HAUS towards the brightly lit farmhouse.
The youngsters' state of high excitement mounted as the outside lights,
autumnal decorations, people, rides, and tables being set up for food and
drink came more fully into view.  Sitting next to his friend, Kurt
exclaimed, "Andy, I think we've done it again!  I KNEW the locals would
want to get back to their old customs if they just had a chance!"  "Right!"
Andy replied, "I'm glad the Army could help with some supplies, but look at
what your people have done!  Wow!  Is this what Munich looked like at
Oktoberfest when you were a kid?"  "Yeah...kinda...but bigger," Kurt
admitted, "but look at what my cousin's farm looks like TONIGHT!  It's
fuckin' GREAT!"

Many local families had already arrived at the farm.  Most - young and old
- were dressed in traditional costume, the males in Lederhosen, the females
in traditional peasant garb (a white peasant blouse, a dark colored wide
dirndl skirt with a matching overblouse or vest, and a colorful, often hand
embroidered apron.).  A local oompah band was playing in the background:
"In Muenchen steht ein Hofbraeuhaus: Eins, zwei, ... g'suffa!  Da laeuft so
manches Faesschen aus: Eins, zwei, ... g'suffa! . . ."  And then, "Du, du
liegst mir im Herzen; du, du liegst mir im Sinn. Du, du machst mir viel
Schmerzen, weisst nicht wie gut ich dir bin. Ja, ja, ja, ja, weisst nicht
wie gut ich dir bin. Ja, ja, ja, ja, weisst nicht wie gut ich dir bin."
Kids of all ages were running around.  Many were gathered around an
apple-bobbing contest.  Other stood in front of a fortune-telling booth.
Warmly dressed, no one seemed to even notice the sharp air.

As the boys piled out of the wagon and passed under a huge
oak-leaf-decorated banner that read, "Willkommen an den Oktoberfest!"
["Welcome to the October Festival!"], Dieter grabbed Ulrich's hand and
pulled him towards the rides.  "Come on, Ulrich, I want to ride that donkey
and I bet you could win a prize by staying on the big bull!"  "Easy does
it, Little Brother.  By the way, I think you have grown some," the big teen
observed.  Dieter grinned bashfully...and just a little proudly.  Knowing
full well that he would rather be inspecting the beer table, Ulrich allowed
himself to be pulled towards the rides.  They walked through a yard of
pumpkins piled up against tall shocks of Mais [corn], booths, and tables
decorated with brightly colored oak leaves and candles.  On every side,
they were surrounded by the brilliant colors and smells of autumn.

After Dieter had gotten his donkey ride, he became bored and headed back
towards the games.  As Ulrich sat on a bench, studying the bull, Sam
wandered by, saw the youngster, and asked if he would mind some company.  A
wide grin assured his welcome.  "I saw you with Dieter, Ulrich.  I am very
grateful to you for your work."  "No need, boss," Ulrich replied.  "He's a
good kid and I'm glad to have him around."  "Nevertheless, thanks," Sam
insisted.  "You're a 'Tieferwald boy,' aren't you?"" Sam continued.  "It
must have been pretty rough around here."  Ulrich shook his head sadly,
saying, "I am - and proud of it - but, yes, it was...rough."

At Sam's urging, the big hulking blond went on to tell Sam that between
1943 and '45, twenty- two Allied bombing raids had hit the German ball
bearing industry, Schweinfurt being the center, Tieferwald being the most
important satellite city.  Nearly every attack on Schweinfurt brought bombs
down on Tieferwald.  His family had lived across the river; he was an only
child.  Both parents and other relatives had worked at one of the larger
factories.  In June of 1944 they had been in a concrete air raid bunker
when it suffered a direct hit by two heavy bombs and incendiaries.  No one
came out alive.  Had Ulrich not been with a Hitler Youth unit assigned to
support a flak battery, he would have been killed with them.

"I gather that it was a daylight raid," Sam asked sadly.  "Yes, sir."  "You
know, then, that those were probably American planes?"  Ulrich shook his
head...and looked down at the ground.  "How do you feel about Americans,
Ulrich?"  Sighing slightly, the boy looked Sam straight in the eyes and
said, "It was war it's over, and it's time to move on.  Actually, Americans
and Germans don't seem all that different to me.  We're both pretty
pig-headed," he said, looking sideways at Sam and grinning slightly.  He
then said something that the young American would never forget.  "Haben wir
nicht gelernt, dass wir bessere Freunde als Feinde machen?" ["Haven't we
learned that we make better friends than enemies?"] "After two wars, I
would have thought so," Sam muttered.

Warming even more to the young man, Sam asked what he really wanted out of
life.  Surprising Sam a bit, Ulrich allowed that he would really like to
become an elementary school teacher - despite the troubles that some people
say I might get into with administrators or the Government.  "I'm good with
little kids," he explained, "and they have a lot to learn about living.
I'm not sure that I'm smart enough to complete the training, but I'm going
to try."  "And after that?" the Director inquired.  "I have a nice girl,
sir...Friede.  Some day, we want to marry, have a family, and settle down
here in the Main Valley.  We don't want a great deal - to be able to have a
family, to see our kids grow up, to enjoy a decent life and, finally, to
grow old .  Eventually, we would die happy in our own bed surrounded by
people we love rather than terrorized in a burning, collapsing concrete
bunker.  Is that too much too hope for, Herr Direktor?"

"If it is, Ulrich, it's an ever sadder world that it appears to be."
Suddenly switching the subject - and the mood - he asked if the lad were
really going to attempt to ride "that damned bull."  "Well, sir, Ulrich
grinned, "he doesn't look all THAT bad!  I mean...I haven't seen him attack
people after bucking them off!  I think he'd rather make little calves than
hurt people - but he sure doesn't like people to get on his back!"  Sam
asks what the sport is like.  Ulrich explains that all the rider has is a
bullrope and rosin. The bullrope is a flat, thickly braided rope with a
cowbell attached. The cowbell acts as a weight, allowing the rope to safely
fall off the bull when the ride is over. The rosin is a sticky substance
that increases the grip on their ropes. Bull riders wrap their bullrope
around the bull and use the remainder to wrap around their hand tightly,
trying to secure themselves to the bull.

"Do you really think you can stay on that monster?" Sam asked, fascinated
despite what his mind kept telling him.  "I've probably got the strength
and balance to stay aboard for the eight seconds that are required," he
allowed, "though no one has done it so far...not even the local guys.
Still, Friede would REALLY like that trophy!" he said, grinning.  "Well, if
you're that crazy, I strongly suggest that you add some extra padding to
your butt," Sam snorted as he got up, stretched, and wandered off.  After
another fifteen minutes or so, Ulrich rose from the bench, pumped his fist
into the air, and yelled, "Let's do it!"

Ulrich moseyed over to the chute area, pumping up his courage as he went.
No damned bull was going to get the better of him!  His gate man approached
as he got close."Hey, I'm Pete - U.S. Army, but I can speak German and I
have experience in rodeos.. Watch that bull, kid," he said.  "'King Taurus'
is 2000 lbs. (907 kg) of pure meanness - he HATES humans; he can really use
his horns; and he's capable of doing a little bit of everything to get you
off his back...no real pattern.  Yep, 'The King' does a parcel of
things...all mean!"

Pete checked Ulrich out on the basics and helped him to don a protective
vest.  As he waited, he looked around the arena.  "Kinda exciting," he had
to admit.  "The smell's fierce - almost worse than Bruno's!"  He also
noticed that the thick clouds of dust that swirled around in the air.  Wow,
they almost obscured the light from a couple of small portable towers
provided by the company that ran the show.  Finally, Pete helped him to
mount the beast ('God, he's big!'), make sure that his rope was positioned
correctly, and that one his hands was strapped to the rope.  'It's only
eight seconds,' he consoled himself.  The bull evidently didn't want to
wait, for he kept moving in the chute and snorting ominously.  Immediately
after the announcer had introduced him (and The King) to a fairly good
crowd of locals, he nodded to Pete that he was ready.  The gate of the
bucking shoot opened and one mean piece of meat burst out.

"ONE," the announcer counted.  Obviously, The King wanted him offa there!
Jumping into the air, the beast turned 180 degrees before touching the
ground!  "TWO!"  King Taurus started to spin around in a tight circle.
Ulrich just clamped his legs to the bovine as tightly as he could and
concentrated on keeping his free hand from touching himself or the animal.
(If you do, you've lost.)  "THREE!"  The King was getting creative!
Instead of bucking, he just started to jump stiff-legged.  (Ulrich began to
feel that his arms were coming off.  His legs and his butt were so damned
tired!)  "FOUR!"  Suddenly, the bull stopped jumping and just took
off...fast...straight ahead - only to stop suddenly and take off to the
right.  Ulrich's face suddenly slammed into the back of The King's head.
("So that's what Pete meant when he said I shouldn't 'kiss the bull'," he
muttered!)  "FIVE!"  Now both tired and groggy, he sensed The King spinning
in one direction, only to stop and spin in another - all the while kicking
like crazy!  "SIX!"  The bull just started to buck with all of his
strength, occasionally loosening Ulrich's leg hold and bouncing him
slightly into the air.  "SEVEN!"  'God, it's almost over and I've won!' the
boy thought.  Unfortunately, King Taurus had other ideas.  Drooping a
shoulder as if he were going to spin to the right, he immediately spun
towards the left!  Hearing the roaring crowd noise in the background - and
the trace of a drinking song - Ulrich almost blacked out!

The boys of DAS HAUS were involved on every hand.  Bruno and Ernst are seen
engaged in a hotly contested game of darts.  Bruno, who finally decided
that he was having better luck hitting the barn on which the target had
been mounted than the target itself, asked Ernst if he would be interested
in having his fortune told.  "Yeah, as long as they allow you to take off
your pigskin gloves first," he guffawed.  Wolfgang, a city boy who had
found his way to The House from a suburb of Koenigsberg in Ostpreussen [now
the city of Kalingrad in the Russian- annexed portion of what had been East
Prussia] actually won the goat-milking contest.  Offered a stein [an
earthenware mug] filled with goat's milk as a prize, he just about lost his
cookies!

Several of the older boys, including Kurt, Konrad, Heinrich, and Franz, had
joined a gaggle of young farmers at the beer table.  Ulrich limped up,
dirty and disheveled.  "What tractor ran over you?" Heinrich asked,
snickering.  "Oh, I just tried to ride a bull - and the bull won," Ulrich
groaned.  Grinning widely in mock sympathy, Joachim (pronounced
yo-ACH-eem), one of the locals, thrust a tall liter (1.06 quart) stein of
suds into his hand.  Learning from an excited buddy that he had stayed on
"King Taurus" for over seven seconds, he looked at the hunky youth with
newfound respect.  Quaffing deeply, Ulrich just tried to dull the pain that
was throbbing in every part of his body.

Horst and Jaeger, eventually joined by Dieter and Georg (who whispered to
the others that he had met someone out in the barn who was "really
hot...and willing"), were involved in the apple- bobbing contest.  Horst
finally nailed one and came up out of the water-filled barrel looking
something like a rather soggy otter..an otter with bright red fur and an
apple in its mouth!  On the small stage in the background, a teen group was
demonstrating the "Chicken Dance" - chiefly, we may guess, for the benefit
of their guests.  After they had finished, to nice applause, the band broke
into a wild polka that brought many among the crowd onto the makeshift
dance floor.  The music...the whirling bodies in traditional dress...the
colors - the FEELING of autumn...  It was a nice scene.

Andreas eventually noticed Sam sitting alone, brought over two beers, and
joined him.  It was time, he had decided, to tell him about Franz and
Genevieve - and the background noise gave them the requisite privacy.  The
simple truth was that Andreas had checked things out, but had discovered
that there was every little that he could do alone.  A more
powerfully-positioned ally was needed - and, besides, he had to talk with
Sam in any case.  Knowing that Sam and he would never have a child of their
own, nor would they be allowed to adopt one when they returned to the
States, Andy decided to suggest something that even he thought was "off the
wall."  Franz and Genevieve appeared to be healthy teens, physically and
psychologically.  What if Sam were to say that HE, Sam not Franz, was the
father?  Besides the real parents, no one knew other than Andreas.  Then
Sam's name would be on the birth certificate, and the child would be an
American citizen!  For several good reasons, Franz and Genevieve had shown
a great deal of maturity in deciding that they could not keep the child.
Would they ever give it to the care of foreigners - especially two GAY
foreigners?  Would it not be easier for them to see it adopted by a caring
local couple, perhaps even a good couple who lived in a different part of
western Germany?  And, yet, who around here today wants another mouth to
feed...and care for?

Andy thoroughly reviewed his initial meeting with Franz, as well as his
"off the wall" idea and the various problems that he could see in "his
plan."  To be truthful, Sam's immediate reaction was not all that positive,
but even before he had finished his (first) beer, it was obvious that he
had begun thinking.  (Within days, he would accept the idea...at least in
principle.)

A great horn finally called the crowd to the food tables.  Some of the boys
sat together, but many sat with local families.  (Some had made friends;
others were encouraged by families to join them.)  The meal was
unbelievable: two kinds of sausages and grilled chicken (courtesy of the
U.S. Army!), Kartoffelsalat [potato salad], sauerkraut, homemade mustard
and several relishes, good bread, an apple dessert, and plenty of beer
(several excellent homemade local brews supplemented by an Army
contribution that included some traditional Oktoberfest beers from Munich)!
Throughout the feasting, the band played traditional songs such as: "Ach,
du lieber Augustin, Augustin, Augustin; Ach, du lieber Augustin, alles ist
hin, geld ist weg, Maedl ist weg, alles weg, alles weg!  Ach, du lieber
Augustin, alles is hin!"

As everyone leaned back on the benches thoroughly stupefied, a visibly
upset Dieter ran up to Sam.  "Herr Direktor, Herr Direktor, come quick.
Something is wrong with my brother!"  Sam, Andy, and several other lads
followed Dieter towards a group of Mais shocks where they found Ulrich flat
on his back.  Though not unconscious, the young man had clearly succeeded
in dulling his pain.  "I let you down, boss...ooh-h-h...that damned
bull...Scheisse!..." he rambled incoherently.  "Ole!" Sam muttered to no
one in particular and gestured for several of the older boys to carry him
over to the wagon.  Giggling, snickering, half-swacked themselves, they
dragged their heavy comrade over to the rough haywagon.  Dieter insisted on
remaining with his "brother," holding his hand and applying an ice-filled
cloth to his forehead.

(A Continuing Story)

After talking with Franz and Genevieve and making sure that they really
wanted his help, Sam arranged for full pre-natal care for Genevieve.  She
did say that she wasn't completely happy with her foster family, but she
wanted to continue living there.  Sam further promised the two youngsters
that he would work on several possibilities for the baby.  Each would be
discussed with them - and the choice would be theirs.


(To Be Continued)