Date: Wed, 21 Jul 2004 11:30:13 -0400
From: Carl Mason <carl5de@netscape.net>
Subject: OUT OF THE RUBBLE - 3

OUT OF THE RUBBLE - 3
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!


PART 3

(Revisiting the End of Part 2)

As they reentered the bedroom - the heavy thunder and lightening continuing
- the boy lagged behind as Sam slipped into bed.  The Captain was still
wearing his undershorts, but had removed his damp T-shirt.  "Sam," came a
thin, wavering voice, "I'm so scared.  Could I sleep with you...just for
tonight?"  Big Green said nothing, but motioned sleepily to Andreas to jump
in.  The naked youngster immediately slid into the narrow single bed in
front of Sam.  His Captain remained silent, simply drawing the boy closer
and nuzzling the hair at the back of his neck.  Sam didn't know it then,
but Andreas had no intention of sleeping anywhere else ever again.

(Continuing Our Story - Breakfast Questions)

Sam stood at the stove, cooking breakfast for six, as Andreas came up from
behind him and locked his arms around the young American.  "I think I owe
you my life, Sam.  Thank you," he murmured.  Sam turned, hugged the boy,
and responded in a pseudo-gruff voice, "Well, I guess I always did want a
brother.  You interested?"  The young German refugee from the forests of
Slovakia didn't quite know whether to cry, to shout in jubilation, or to
giggle.  He tried all three - at the same time - which necessitated Sam's
pounding on his back to prevent his choking to death.  Seemingly in the
confusion, the question went unanswered.

Although the usually ebullient Andreas appeared to be a bit "off," perhaps
just a bit distracted, he and his benefactor clearly enjoyed the hearty
breakfast.  Putting down his coffee mug, the Captain finally asked, "Well,
my friend, what do you think?  Would it bore you to death to meet some of
the people with whom I work - Germans and Americans alike - before we take
on some serious shopping at the PX?"

"Oh, no...no...Sam.  You don't have to buy me any more clothes, but I
really want to meet those people and see what you do!" Andreas replied with
returning enthusiasm.

"Ok, Big Guy, you look like a million.  Let pick a few cootie eggs from
your scalp.  And then let's clean up and go!" Sam added, grinning and
rising from the table on which nothing more than a few crumbs were to be
seen.  (Let it be known that our Captain had eaten an ample meal - but no
more than one generous serving...plus an extra biscuit or two!)

(Around Town)

Loading Sam's bike in the rear of the Jeep, they took off for town.  After
they left the residential district in which Sam's house was located,
Andreas was shocked [an old word, but at times the only accurate one] by
the ruins that surrounded them.  On every side, he couldn't miss the
bombed-out public buildings and churches, the windowless stores, the
battered apartment buildings, the rubble that choked the streets, the
shabby, weary inhabitants who were slaving to restore their city...and
their lives.  At one point when Sam stopped to speak briefly with a young
mother and her three children who were gathering and cleaning bricks, the
teenager leaned towards Sam and whispered, "Herr Hauptmann, I saw Pressburg
after the occupation, towns in eastern Austria, as well as Nuremberg and
many villages in Bavaria, but I have never seen anything like this.
It's...it's... horrible!"

"I'm 'Sam'!" the Captain hissed.  Continuing in a lowered voice, he
added,"Yes, Andy, it is horrible, but wars - even just wars such as the war
against Hitler - always bring destruction and suffering.  Now, come over
and meet Frau Mueller and her children."  After introductions and a few
minutes conversation, the two drove on to the City administrative building
where they exchanged the Jeep for a couple of bicycles.

After nearly an hour of pedaling, stopping, talking, and pedaling some
more, they reached an apartment building that seemed to be in somewhat
better shape than those encountered earlier.  Trudging up three floors, Sam
knocked on the door marked by a small wooden plaque that read 'Goettingen.'
When an old women answered the door, he enquired, "Good day, Mrs.
Goettingen.  How are you today?"  Graciously, she gestured for us to enter
the crowded one room apartment as if welcoming honored friends to far more
opulent surroundings.  An aged man, her husband, sat bundled in a chair,
staring vacantly out of the window.  In addition to a large armoire and a
folding table against one wall, a bed stood in a corner.  On a sideboard
that stood next to the bed, Andreas noted several photos, including one of
a young man in a Kriegsmarine [Navy] uniform with his wife and their two
young sons.  Noticing the teen's questioning look, she intoned, "Gunther,
our dear son, died bravely in the submarine service;" we lost Elsie in a
bombing raid; we are raising their boys, our grandchildren."  Indeed, the
two little boys were playing quietly on the floor in another corner.
Andreas assumed that a screen concealed a small kitchen and that a shared
bathroom lay down the hall.  His eyes a bit teary, he went over and sat
down with them.

Sam mused that "dear Gunther's" submarine may have killed several of his
friends and damned well created supply problems that slowed Patton as the
Third Army neared the German border.  Nevertheless, as angry as that left
him, his personal experiences fighting the Germans had convinced him that
he would be just as happy if his own sons and/or grandsons didn't have to
face Gunther's in World War III...or IV...or, maybe, V or VI.  As long as
Denatzification proceeded and justice was administered to those who had the
greatest amount of blood on their hands, the vicious cycle of
German-American conflict had to be broken.  Tieferwald am Main was as good
a place as any to make his contribution.

Sam accepted a cup of ersatz coffee from Frau Goettingen, politely
exchanging formal civilities for a few minutes.  The Captain noted that
Andreas seemed to have one ear on the boys and one ear on his meeting.
Suspecting that thoughts of Jurgen were involved and that he might be
tiring and needing a short break, he let it go.  He also realized that his
charge was young enough to excuse a slight faux pas.  Skillfully, he wove
his questions into the polite web that was being spun.  Had Frau Goettingen
heard of the terrible problems being faced by German refugees from
Slovakia?  (She hadn't - and received an earful.)  Had she been able to
secure the medicine for her husband at the local hospital?  (Inasmuch as
Sam had personally brought it down from the large Army base in Frankfurt,
there had been no hitches.)  Had the clerk at the German Children's Care
office in the City administrative building provided the "emergency" rations
for her grandchildren?  (Sam had a firm promise that she would...if Frau
Goettingen didn't make a public point of it.  Evidently, all had gone
well.)  Would this respected matriarch's friends be willing to meet with
him to discuss home fuel needs during the coming winter?  (They
would...Frau Goettingen tittering as she accepted the request to chair the
meeting.)  Having secured the information that he needed, he politely
brought the conversation to an end, regretfully interrupted Andreas's
reading of a fairy tale to the little ones, and departed.

    Stopping by the Office:

As they prepared to leave the Goettingens' apartment building, Sam asked
Andreas frankly if he were up to a short stop at his office before moving
on to the PX.  Though appearing somewhat tired...and still withdrawn...Sam
averred he had been looking forward to it.

"I listened to most of your conversation with Frau Goettingen, Sam.  Did I
do anything wrong?"

"Absolutely not, friend.  I very much wanted you to understand some of my
responsibilities and how I try to handle them," Sam replied.  Andreas
seemed thoughtful, but only nodded.  They cycled on.

At the administrative building, Sam first gave the boy a cook's tour of the
various offices.  It was an hilarious success!  The young Fraeuleins who
dominated the office staffs went absolutely ga-ga over the handsome young
German.  Even though he valiantly tried to appear underimpressed, he
stammered, shuffled his feet, swallowed, and blushed - and seemed
thoroughly to enjoy the experience, not unlike any other callow 16 year old
the world over.  As he slumped into the extra chair in Sam's office,
however, his face and eyes said, "Help!"  It surely didn't help when one of
the teenaged secretaries arrived within minutes with a cold coke "just for
Andreas."  (God knows what that cost her, for American soldiers had turned
into some pretty cagey horse-traders!)  Well, hey, the Captain got a cup of
coffee...ersatz, of course.

"Are you ready to head over to the PX, LOVER?" was Sam's only question.
Sam received a disgusted look and a one-word answer, "Yeah!"  As they left
the office, Andreas sniffed and added that his uncle's office was larger.
(Sam just about broke up!)

    At the PX:

As they reached the small Army base and parked their newly reclaimed Jeep
in front of the PX, the boy put his hand on top of Sam's.  "Sam," he said,
"I owe you an apology.  You saved my life; you've been nothing but the best
friend I've ever had; you've shared your job with me, a job that means more
to people than almost any job I've ever seen - and I've acted like
a...Scheisskopf [shit-head] all day.  I'm really sorry.  I guess I'm just
not with it today.  Forgive me?"

Sam cupped his hand around the back of the youngster's louse-free neck,
grinned, and said simply, "Forgiven."

Gazing at his mentor with unabashed hero-worship, Andreas continued
determinedly, "There's more.  I want to be part of this.  If Germans won't
help rebuild the Fatherland, we can't expect you to do it.  I've made a
decision.  Will you accept me as your 'official assistant'?"  That one
brought Sam to something of a screeching halt.  While he was an exceedingly
perceptive human being, he hadn't exactly expected that particular turn of
events.

"Well, Big Guy, that's a pretty important decision, a decision that raises
many questions.  Besides, we need to get into the PX before it closes.  Is
it ok if we delay further discussion until we've both had time to think
more about what's involved?  I promise you that it won't be long before we
talk again."  Given the young refugee's snappy "Yeah," they exited the Jeep
and entered the PX.

Wandering into a building so cavernous as to remind one of an enormous
circus tent appeared to disorient our young farm boy.  Who other than a
young American, however, would be better prepared to snap him out of it?
Sam immediately sat Andreas down at a table in the tiny cafe‚ and ordered a
couple of banana splits!  Within a very few minutes of their being
delivered, Sam had miraculously returned to his normal self.

As they sat discussing the various departments of the store, the officer in
command of the PX approached their table.  In uniform, Captain Peters stood
and saluted sharply.  Caught somewhat off-guard, the teen began to rise,
but the officer motioned for both of them to sit.  First nodding to the
Captain, he addressed the boy directly, "Andreas, I'm delighted to see you
here at the PX.  Do you know of General Eisenhower, by the way?"

The youngster immediately replied, "Yes, sir!  He is your great Field
Marshall.  Even our Field Marshall Rommel was unable to keep him out of
Normandy."

"Well...ahem...yes," the boy's host continued.  In any case, he has a
favorite cap that people say fills him with courage in battle.  It's called
a 'Garrison cap.'  I have one here for you.  Further, my sargeant...the
smiling one standing over there in the uniforms department...said you
should wear it with our Division insignia.  Here's the cap and a patch that
you can sew on."  Completely overcome, the wide-eyed German teen leapt to
his feet, snapped to bone-crunching attention, and gave him a rigid salute.
('Thank God it was an AMERICAN salute,' Sam thought.  The alternatives
scared him.)  "Thank you, SIR!" barked the boy.

Later on the shopping trip, Sam was able momentarily to corner the officer
whom he knew and asked him how in hell he knew Andreas.  A somewhat crazed
look in his eyes, the senior officer looked at him and said weakly, "Well,
Captain, my young daughter works over at the City administrative building.
Evidently, she and her fellow secretaries are convinced that Andreas is
something of a cross between Gregory Peck and the Archangel Michael...a
real 'hunk,' I think she said.  She phoned me and told me that you were on
your way over here."  Both men shook their head and walked away in a daze.

Andreas again tried to convince Sam that he need not purchase any more
clothes for him, but his mentor explained that single sets tended to wear
out faster and, in any case, clothes needed to be washed if one were to
avoid cooties.  Between the explanations and his lust for the new clothes,
the teenager generously agreed to the purchase.  Standing before a rack of
colorful civilian shirts, Sam asked him to choose a couple to add to the
blue one that he was wearing.

"You will not decide for me?" asked Sam...a little sadly.

"Sorry, Andreas, that's not the American way.  We like to choose for
ourselves," responded the young officer.

A bit more than an hour later, each carrying a mountain of clothing and
other gear, the two jubilant young men returned to the Jeep and stowed
their booty in the rear of the vehicle.  (Anything more and they would have
had to check out a diesel truck from the motor pool.)  Suddenly,
inexplicably, Andreas snapped back into his withdrawn mood, sighed, and
said darkly, "I'm tired, Sam.  Let's go home."

(Down on the Floor)

Dinner was not a pleasant affair.  Andreas's mood gradually progressed from
dark to agitated.  He couldn't sit still, he couldn't eat more than a bite,
and he would barely look at Sam.

After supper, the teenager having gone out to sit in the back yard, Sam sat
in the living room, nursing a BIG Scotch and trying to figure out what kind
of a mortar shell had hit him.  He thought, 'Point One: He's an adolescent,
and adolescents aren't like other people.  They're usually just a little
weird - and they sure don't like adults telling them what to do.  Point
Two: He obviously came from a loving family, which intensifies Point Three.
Point Three: He probably saw his entire family slaughtered by sub-humans
who weren't worthy of wiping the shit from his boots.  Point Four: Giving
all my touching and all the things I've bought him, he's probably worried
that I'm going to hit on him.  Point Five: Only 16, he's all alone in a
strange and very dangerous world.  He's probably as afraid to go as he's
afraid to stay.  Point Six: Although he's snapping back, he's still skating
on thin ice physically.  NO WONDER HE'S NOT SURE IF HIS HEAD IS SCREWED ON
TIGHT!  Come on, Sam, give this kid some rope and every bit of support that
you can muster!'

It was nearly 2130 hours (9:30 pm) before Sam wandered back into the house,
the door slamming behind him.  "Hey, man, aren't we friends?" his Captain
asked.  His "friend" did little more than grunt.  'Oh, oh,' Sam thought,
'time to bring in some heavier artillery.'  "Come on, Andreas, sleep in my
bed tonight."  At that, the youngster ventured a slight smile and allowed
Sam to lead him into the bedroom.

Lying side by side on their backs in the single bed, the Captain in his
underwear next to a naked Andreas, the boy suddenly turned to face Sam and
rose up on one elbow.  Haltingly, he reached out a hand, touching the young
American's cheek with one finger.  Abruptly, he withdrew the finger and
began screaming hysterically, "No, no, no!  I can't be your brother!  I
can't be your friend!  I can't be your Official Assistant!  I'm a piece of
shit!  If Uncle Erich, if my mother and father, if my FAMILY had known what
I was, I would have been clubbed rather than Jurgen!  I'm a dog...and dogs
sleep on the floor!"  With that, he (rather dramatically) threw himself off
the bed and down onto the floor, and lay violently sobbing.

Sam quietly got up, moved around to the other side of the bed, and lay down
in the cramped space beside the boy.  Gathering him into his arms, he said
calmly, "Well, I can tell you two things, Andreas: You're no piece of shit.
Why?  Because you're my friend...AND my brother...AND my Official
Assistant.  Want to talk about it?"

Beginning to quiet down, the youth threw his arms around Sam and said,
"You're wrong, sir, it's worse than that."  Choking, he sobbed, "I'm gay.
I'm a shit-head.  I don't really like girls, even those girls down at the
office...even the one who gave me a Coke.  You're the greatest guy in the
world!  You're helping people to live!  I don't deserve to have anything to
do with you - or with the people I met today.  I'm so sorry about what I've
done."

Sam calmly continued, "You're gay, Big Guy.  Ok...  So what?"

"So what?" Andreas responded.  "SO WHAT?  You just don't know, do you?
Sam, oh Sam, I love YOU!  I love you as much as I loved Uncle Erich and my
parents...though in some different ways," he finished lamely.  "I can't
help it.  I'll leave in the morning - and I promise that I won't take
anything.  Take all of those things back to the PX...except, maybe, my cap.
Can I keep that?"  (Maybe we can forgive Andreas for that minor
backsliding.)

Holding each other in a death grip, the two lay face to face, their bodies
touching, neither saying a word.  Running his hand down the boy's back
until his fingers caressed the lad's butt, feeling his swelling cock rise
to greet Andreas's, Sam finally managed, "Well, my friend, my brother, AND
my Official Assistant, I hope that your uncle, your parents, and your
entire family would be as proud of you as I am at this very minute.  What
you've told me tonight tells me that my Andreas is one of the bravest men
I've ever met.  I just wonder if I can be even one-tenth as brave."  He
paused...and eventually forced the next words out of his mouth.  "You see
I've fought something ...in myself...for years.  Truth is, I really don't
know exactly where I am in that battle, and I sure as hell haven't had any
sexual experience...with anyone."  Interrupting his monologue, he snapped,
"Enough of this bullshit...I'm babbling!  The simple truth is that I'm gay
and I've never found anyone about whom I feel the way I feel about you.
(Pause) I guess I just told you that I love you, Andreas.  If you leave
this house...with or without your cap...I know that we'll never be the same
people we are tonight.  Don't go.  Stay with me, Andy!"

In shock, the youngster had disengaged himself from his hero and sat back
on his heels upon the hard floor.  Sam could see the boy's heart beating in
his thick chest.  Feverishly, he noted the boy's rock-hard cock and muscled
thighs.  Andreas's handsome face was absolutely radiant...until a cloud
suddenly swept over it.

"Sam, do you know what happens when a Slovak officer is found to be
homosexual?"  He continued, "And both the Wehrmacht and Waffen-SS troops
did the same thing.  I know because I watched more and more of them as the
Russians came closer.  Sam, they shot them on the spot...on the spot!  Are
you Americans different?"

Looking at the expression on Sam's face, a tear slowly trickled down his
cheek.  "Oh, Sam, what are we going to do?"


(To Be Continued)