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)