Date: Wed, 3 Jan 2007 11:30:08 -0500
From: carl_mason@comcast.net
Subject: JOSEF'S FORGE - 8

JOSEF'S FORGE - 8

Copyright 2006 by Carl Mason with Ed Collins

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 authors.  However based on real events and
places, "Josef's Forge" is strictly fictional.  Any resemblance to actual
events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.  As
in real life, however, the sexual themes unfold gradually.

If you would like to read other Mason-Collins stories, please turn to the
listing at the end of this chapter.  Comments on all stories are
appreciated and may be addressed to the authors at carl_mason@comcast.net.

This story contains descriptions of sexual contact between males, both
adults and teenagers.  As such, it 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!


CHAPTER 8

(Revisiting Chapter 7)

Just before they were to be moved to another camp, Josef spoke with the
young queen who flamed the brightest of them all, thanking "her" for all
the good she had done in the barracks and the camp.  He would not quickly
forget the wet kiss she placed on his cheek or her comment, "Well, dearie,
we all do what we can do.  Toodle oo..."

Josef looked up when the guard entered the barracks to take her and her
friends to the administration building for processing.  My God, it was
DROOG, the young Red Army guard he had met on his way up the Volga on the
way to Siberia.  What in the world was he doing in the NKVD?

(Continuing Our Story - Siberian Winter)

It came down on the land like a great icy fist.  One moment the prisoners
were building a railroad and producing vast quantities of building
materials for European Russia, not to speak of fighting off the advances of
some wild teen queens.  In the next, the very bottom dropped out of the
thermometer and they were fighting to maintain life as temperatures plunged
through the minus forties, minus fifties, and even approached the minus
sixties Fahrenheit!  The boys had already spent some cold winters in
Siberia, but this year was already on its way to some decidedly unwelcome
records!  Both the guards and the prisoners were now experiencing what has
been called "the whisper of the stars."  That is, as they exhaled, the
water vapor crystalized almost instantly and then burst with a barely
audible tinkle!

Nor were the prisoners the only ones suffering from the onslaught of one of
the worst winters of the century in the taiga forests of western Siberia.
At first, the commandant tried to keep as much of the camp routine in place
as possible.  That was before two guards simply disappeared one night, not
to be found until morning.  The morning patrols surmised that they had
huddled in a concealed spot in order to steal a smoke - only to find that
they "flash froze" as they stopped moving and tried to manipulate matches,
cigarettes, and clothing.

Work details outside buildings were simply impossible.  With all the
prisoners crowded into the shelters, they were not easily maintained
inside.  Nerves frayed and tempers flared.  To compound everyone's misery,
viral infections began sweeping the camp during the second week of the
frigid spell.  The infirmary was jammed.  Never well- stocked, the camp
pharmacy quickly ran out of everything.  Even though the prisoners were
weakened and stressed, lives began to be lost that should never have been
lost.  Two guards died which escalated the crisis.  When Moscow told the
Commandant that neither food nor medicine could be restocked "under present
conditions," he knew he had to act.

Responding to the Commandant's order to come to his office, Josef joined a
young Russian prisoner, a lieutenant who had been taken prisoner early in
Hitler's attack on Russia, returned to Stalin's control after the Germans
had surrendered, and promptly sent to the gulag.  "Lieutenant," the
Commandant requested, "will you kindly repeat what you told me for the
Sergeant."  "I reported, sir," the young man who would later introduce
himself as "Anatoly" said, "that a lichen grows in this part of western
Siberia that has significant curative powers."  "And how do you know this?"
the Commandant continued.  "Before the war, sir, I lived with my family in
Perm' on the western side of the Urals.  We were able to maintain a small
dacha [vacation home] on the Irtysh, primarily for fishing, though we also
did some hunting and enjoyed rafting on the river.  My mother was a medical
doctor and showed me many of the strange plants that grow here in the
lowlands.  Several have medical applications."  "Can they be
located...under these conditions?" the Commandant asked with a weary shake
of his head.  "It is possible, sir," the Lieutenant murmured.  "Thus far we
have had frigid cold, but little snow.  I know it's a long shot, but it
would give many of our men - and your guards, sir - a fighting chance to
live.  As I said, I would rather try and fail than simply sit here waiting
to die."  The Commandant rose, walked over to the young Lieutenant, and
placed his hand on his shoulder.  "I know, brave Russian soldier, I know."
Startled, the Lieutenant looked up at the Colonel, a grateful look on his
face.  He had been treated like a traitor since he had been returned to
Soviet forces on the Elbe [the German river that marked the border between
the Soviet and Allied occupation zones].

"Josef!" the Colonel barked.  Having been focusing his attention on the
good-looking Lieutenant, Josef came to stiff attention with a snap that
resounded through the room.  The Commandant snickered and continued.  "I
think you are probably in better physical condition than all but two or
three of the other prisoners and most of the guards.  In addition, you have
a mind and use it.  Are you crazy enough to lend your efforts to
this...long shot?"  Acting on long-ingrained habit, Josef growled almost
automatically, "Zum Befehl, Herr Oberst!" [At your command, Colonel!].  The
Commandant sniffed, grinned wryly, and said, "Yes, Sergeant.  Thank you."
"I'm not about to risk many lives on this crazy venture.  You two and the
guard standing behind you will be it."  Josef looked back to see Droog
whose soldierly face was the picture of innocence.

Within the hour, the three-man team was completely outfitted from the
NKVD's limited supply of high Arctic survival equipment.  "Nice stuff,"
Droog grunted.  "Better than anything the Army has..."  "You said it,"
Anatoly agreed.  "By the way, I'm Anatoly," he continued, "extending his
hand first to Droog and then to Josef.  Best we keep this on a completely
informal basis."  "Right!" Droog replied.  "I'm Sasha," the muscular
Russian guard grinned, looking straight at Josef.  "Glad to meet you,
Sasha," Josef replied with a completely straight face.  "Glad to meet you,
too, Lieutenant," he ventured cheerfully.  "Best we also forget ranks,"
Anatoly grunted.  "As a revolutionary whom I read in history once said,
this is a task where 'We must all hang together, or assuredly we shall all
hang separately'!"  No one had to say anything further, for they understood
each other...  perfectly.

The first day's tramp went quite well.  The excellent equipment protected
them from the vicious cold; their youthful muscles actually welcomed the
workout.  They only found one small trace of the lichens for which they
were searching, but Anatoly was able to compare this sample with other,
more common plant life.  As night fell upon the forest, they established
camp, prepared a simple meal, and soon turned in.  Much the same could be
said of the second, third, and fourth days.  Their strength continued,
partially because they only had to resort to snowshoes on three occasions,
but their supplies - and their hope - were fast diminishing.  Not only did
the remainder of the week show no success, but the harsh conditions began
to take their physical toll, especially when rations had to be cut.  Had it
not been for an unexpected discovery on the sixth day, it is entirely
possible that not all of the young men would have returned to their base.

It happened suddenly.  Actually, it was Sasha who first found himself
hiking amidst reindeer that were grazing on lichens growing from the trees!
Then, working around a dense copse of small trees and undergrowth, Josef
discovered a campsite.  There were, for instance, several teepees (Author's
Note: Similar to those erected by Native Americans), each covered with
nearly twenty shorn deer hides.  As cold as it was, there were signs of
food preparation.  Then, silently, perhaps a dozen men and women appeared
from the trees where they had been perfectly camouflaged.  They were short,
with high cheekbones and slit eyes, with dark eyes and hair and skin, their
Mongoloid heritage obvious, but, Josef thought, who in hell were they?
Anatoly greeted the man who was evidently in charge of the party in a sort
of "pidgin Russian," i.e., many Russian words and phrases, all interwoven
with something very different linguistically.  As the natives relaxed,
Anatoly assured his friends that all was well. They were quickly invited
inside the largest teepee where they sat around a fire and were offered a
delicious herbal tea.  A tray was passed around on which rested small
chunks of bread and a dark meat.  "Ha!" yelped Josef when he nibbled on a
piece of the meat..."wild boar!  That tastes like home!"  As Anatoly
continued to speak with the chief, Droog leaned over to Josef and grunted,
"Strange people.  I fought down in the Balkans.  I know they're not
speaking Hungarian, but the rhythm of the language, the tonal
quality...fascinating!"  (Josef had the sudden feeling that Droog was
considerably more than a Red Army recruit or a low-level NKVD guard.)
Suddenly, Anatoly seemed to finish his conversation and came over to sit
with Josef and Droog.

"To make a long story just a bit shorter, guys," he began, "there are
innumerable small groups of indigenous or native peoples scattered all over
the Soviet Union.  These people are the Mansi [meaning: "the people"] or
Vogols.  You can see that they came out of Central Asia, as did waves of
nomadic peoples that finally overcame the ancient world.  I know a little
about them because there are some small bands of their people spread as far
west as the Urals above Perm', my hometown.  Their language is interesting,
isn't it, Sasha?"  "Yep," Droog answered.  "It FEELS like Hungarian, though
I realize it's not."  "Oh, but you're right!" Anatoly grinned.  Theirs is a
truly ancient language.  In today's world it's spoken only by the Finns,
the Estonians, the Magyars or Hungarians, and a few thousand people in this
part of the western Siberian lowlands."  Although the Soviets, and the
Russians before them, have almost exterminated the Mansi - there are
probably only a few thousand left - they continue their nomadic life,
fishing, hunting, and herding reindeer."  Both Sasha and Josef looked at
Anatoly, wide- eyed.

Their attention was diverted as another man entered the teepee and sat down
beside the leader.  Josef's eyes widened and he caught his breath.  (He was
conscious that Droog was also reacting physically.)  This young
man...probably 18 or 19...was no Mongol!  Rather, stripped to the waist, he
revealed himself as lithe, powerfully muscled, and golden...dark golden
hair, skin that would have graced the vaults of Midas.  Painfully handsome,
he had the bluest eyes that Josef had ever seen, an electric blue that
could scarcely be believed.  When he looked up and grinned bashfully at
Josef, the German lad came as close to losing control as he had ever come.
A "Great Russian..." Droog rasped, the moisture having suddenly vanished
from his throat.  "Great Russians, the dominant branch of the family,"
Anatoly added.  "You also have the 'Little Russians' or Ukrainians and the
'White Russians' or Byelorussians from around Minsk."  Josef didn't hear a
pedantic word.  He was totally lost in those sparkling blue eyes!

The Mansi proved to be gracious hosts.  The food and drink were wondrous;
the singing was almost hypnotic.  They gladly shared all they had with
their guests.  After two days, they left rested with a generous supply of
several lichens and a promise to provide the camp with an emergency supply
of fish and meat.  Josef, of course, had additional reasons to remember the
visit.  On the first night, the blond lad came up to him, saying formally,
"I am Nyek.  My father has given me permission to ask if you would do me
the honor of sharing the young men's dwelling."  "It is my honor, Nyek; I
am Josef," the young German stammered, kicking himself mentally for
behaving like a raw recruit.  Silently, he donned his heavy coat and gloves
and followed the golden one across the clearing to a slightly smaller
teepee.  Entering, Nyek paused on the other side of the small fire and
allowed his loose robe to slip to the ground.  For as long as he lived, the
German youth claimed that his eyes beheld the most perfect male form that
he ever saw...a youth worthy of the Greek sculptors, his eyes disclosing a
personality as beautiful as his form.  Slowly, the golden youth...fully
erect...turned towards him.  His eyes seeming to spark in the semidarkness,
he reached his hand out to Josef and led him to a thick pallet by the fire.
In the cool air, he drew rich furs up over their naked bodies.  "Are you
disappointed that we are alone rather than being in the company of my
friends?" the boy asked nervously.  His voice choking slightly, he added,
"I am not experienced, Josef.  Please do not laugh at me."  Josef said
nothing, but simply drew Nyek into his arms and began covering his face and
body with kisses.  The rest of the long and glorious evening took on a
kaleidoscopic quality wherein lights, shapes, and sensations slowly blended
into something of indescribable...yet unforgettable beauty.

On the day and a half hike back to the camp, envy and affection alike led
to Josef's being royally razzed.  Fortunately, he had learned good military
tactics in the Wehrmacht.  He always claimed that he would have been
derelict in his duty if he had not taken every opportunity to learn about
the Mansi and their history as Russians spilled into Siberia over several
centuries.  Why he even learned that Nyek had been adopted by the leader as
an infant when he was discovered playing between parents who had died from
the fever! Naturally, he didn't believe this defense...for a moment...but
like a good smokescreen it diverted the mosquitoes!

(Gestures)

Events moved quickly on their return to the camp.  Naturalistic solutions
based on the lichens provided the boost necessary for the men to shake off
the viral infections that had been running rampant.  Generous gifts of fish
and meat from several Mansi bands helped the camp to weather the worst of
the storms that essentially closed down transportation in western Siberia.
The food crisis would have improved even more had it not been for the
situation of the Danubian Germans still gathered around the Trans- Siberian
railhead.  When the rebuilding of the German railroad north into the taiga
had been completed, Soviet authorities had failed to move those remaining
prisoners who had formed the a large percentage of the workforce.  It was
reported that approximately three thousand had died during the first great
freeze, but at least two thousand remained in dire straits.  Now, of
course, they could not be moved, for nothing was moving on the ground or in
the air.  Moscow informed the Commandant about the situation, but offered
neither recommendations nor orders.

In one of his best moments, the Colonel gathered guards and prisoners about
him and laid the problems before them.  "These are YOUR people," he told
the prisoners, the largest number of whom were still German.  "We Russians
will help to mount a humanitarian rescue, but we do not have the resources
to complete the task on our own.  Will you put your shoulders to the wheel
alongside ours?"  The answering shout left no doubt as to the answer.  "The
trucks are useless in this weather," he continued, "but there is one hope.
An entire train is on our siding.  We must reach the Trans-Siberian!  Dig
it out enough for us to get moving.  Hook up a gondola to the front of the
train and load it with firewood.  Load firewood into half of the cars as
well; sand into the remaining gondolas.  Very well, let's go!"

With hundreds of men working together, the train was quickly cleared of
snow and ice.  As soon as the gondola was hitched up and loaded with enough
wood to raise the temperature without causing a conflagration, it was set
on fire.  Slowly the tracks came into view through the ice and snow.  The
train, preceded by a large track crew armed with shovels and brooms, inched
forward with a jerk and a great blast of steam.  Six track crews had been
formed - one working in front of the train, one keeping the gondola fire
alive, and four enjoying needed rest periods.  Needless to say, it was a
slow and a painful trip.  There were two (nonfatal) heart attacks; several
of the middle-aged men had to be taken off duty.  Everyone was exhausted
long before he reached the Trans- Siberian railhead - but they did reach
it.  Half of the Balkan German prisoners still alive were lifted aboard the
first train; a second trip on the very next day rescued those necessarily
left behind.  When Josef discovered that the Hungarian Volksdeutscher
Bernard had survived, you will believe that he immediately asked the Squad
to make him their own.  You may also believe that if their sergeant had
requested the sun or the moon, they would have done their best to give him
that, too.

Though any other country would surely have done the same thing, Moscow
trumpeted the rescue of the prisoners as an instance of its humanitarian
regard for those foreign nationals under its care.  (They also bestowed a
major medal on the Colonel, but Josef wasn't impressed.  The gesture cost
them very little.)  They didn't seem to realize - perhaps better, they
simply didn't care - that the camp was threatened far more than it had been
since the onset of the frigid weather.  The Commandant now had over 1900
new prisoners.  Inasmuch as the storms had intensified and the health of
most of the Danubian Germans was precarious, he was not able to divide them
between his three camps.  Overcrowding in the dormitories reached
catastrophic proportions; rations had to be cut and cut again.  It doesn't
seem surprising that morale in the camp plummeted once again.  Strangely,
two humane gestures helped to stabilize the situation.

Remember that at the beginning of the climactic troubles, a good many
prisoners and two guards had died.  The Colonel decided that the time had
come to hold "memorial services" for these men.  (Naturally, they couldn't
be buried, for the ground was frozen to a point that it would have probably
dulled or broken the heaviest earthmoving equipment.  Hence, the bodies had
been wrapped respectfully and laid to rest in an empty shed until spring.)
Josef again argued that the German prisoners hadn't left the human race
when they joined the Wehrmacht, that the guards had fully cooperated in the
rescue of the Volksdeutche and, in any case, the war was long over.  More
than anything else, it was probably a mark of respect for him personally
that led many of the prisoners to gather inside the fence that separated
them from the small guards' cemetery.  In fact, when traditional rifle
volleys signaled military honors, the prisoners joined the guards in
respectfully coming to full attention.  Even though the ceremony had to be
held inside, for the next day saw the mercury again bursting through the
bottom of the thermometer, the prisoners were literally shocked when all
off-duty guards showed up in full uniform at the memorial service for their
dead.

Though he said nothing to anyone, Josef felt that he had achieved an
important victory in forging more humane attitudes and actions than were
normally reinforced in the gulags.  Namely, behavior among most Russians he
had observed seemed directed to NOT being noticed.  "Being noticed" in the
Soviet Union - for good or for bad - was a clear invitation to trouble.
For more obvious reasons, this was also the rule among prisoners.  In the
cases of the rescue train and the memorial services, however, people had
openly allowed themselves to "put their shoulders to the wheel" of good.
(Author's Note: Make no mistake.  The events "described" here were the
great exception.  The prisoner/labor camps in the Soviet Union were clearly
one of the most inhumane environments in history.  Indeed, they were
comparable in many ways to the Nazi death camps.  The events described by
Solzhenitsyn - and so many others - were the rule!)

To be even more truthful, the months of this horrific winter were not the
worst in Josef's memory.  Once Bernie had recovered, for instance, he was
warmly received in the Squad...much as Erich had been before him.  Even
more than Erich, be that possible, the Sergeant was his model of the best
that a German could conceivably be...as boss, as lover, or as god - and he
was so very, VERY anxious to show his feelings!  (Even Josef, let alone the
Squad, had a little too much of puppy love on more than one occasion!)

Let's not forget, however, that Droog had been the first non German for
whom Josef had had feelings of affection.  While their contacts in camp
necessarily had to be highly circumspect - and they surely weren't out in
the forests in this weather - the two young men still had occasion for
quiet conversation...and even something more.  For instance, Josef asked
him straight out why the guards were so cruel and often so stupid.  Droog's
quiet answer made sense.  "Where do you think these people come from?" he
asked.  "Do you seriously think they're the sons of doctors and artists, or
even of kulaks?  No, Josef, in the main they are uneducated and usually at
the bottom of the social barrel.  Along with their blue caps, however, they
are given life and death power over other human beings.  Their training,
designed by Josef Stalin himself, subjects them to a terrible forge in
which every human instinct is burnt and pounded out of them.  If they want
to keep their power, they must demonstrate to those above them that they
can be more cruel and unfeeling than their fellows.  As the British Lord
Acton wrote, 'Power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely.'

"Of greater interest to me, Josef," he continued, " is why you have
resisted the shaping process.  Has it shortened the time you will spend
here?  Has it made your life simpler?  ...or richer?  Why, Josef?  Tell me!
Tell me...and then come into my arms!"  The young German had a pretty good
idea of why he had resisted (see Chapter 4), but he suddenly felt that
Droog was not the person with whom he wanted to discuss this matter.  He
didn't know why...he just knew that he couldn't or shouldn't...whatever.
It didn't seem to matter.  Droog didn't resist when he fell into his arms
and kissed him, and it was good.  It was always good.

Naturally, the worst of the weather finally broke.  Though months would
pass before spring finally overcame Siberia's long, cold, dark winter,
supplies did begin flowing again from Moscow.  That, together with the
continued Mansi gifts of fish and meat, allowed them to pull through.
Routines gradually reasserted themselves; life went on.  Thus, Josef was
somewhat surprised when he received a summons to the Commandant's office.
"I promised your guard friend that I would pass on a message," he began.
"You will notice that he is no longer in the camp.  He wanted to wish you
well and hoped that your paths would cross again in the future."

"He was a friend, sir, insofar as that was possible," Josef replied,
"though I never felt that I knew him very well."  With something of a sigh
and a weary shake of his head, the Colonel said, "You must continue to grow
in mature caution, my young German sergeant."  Your 'friend' was one of
Comrade Stalin's most trusted troubleshooters, one of the legion of
"inspectors" who keep his finger on the pulse of everything going on in the
Soviet Union.  I only know part of the story, but I believe he will
recommend that the Soviet lieutenant who accompanied you on the search for
medicinal lichens be pardoned and restored to full active service.  He will
also recommend that you and your immediate group be granted early
repatriation.  We shall have to see what effect his recommendations have.
Russians, respected Russians, for instance, have long called for better
arrangements for our native peoples, but they are still pushed out of the
way...  or worse...whenever they get in the way of Russian expansion.  Let
us wait and see."


To Be Continued


                 DATES OF LAST POSTING IN NIFTY
        Archived in Gay/Historical Unless Otherwise Noted

OUT OF THE RUBBLE (32 Chapters): 10-22-04.
CASTLE MARGARETHEN (9 Cs):  12-24-04.
THE PRIEST & THE PAUPER (12 Cs):  3-10-05.
HIGH PLAINS DOCTOR (12 Cs):  4-25-05.
FOR GOD AND COUNTRY (9 Cs): 6-13-05.
HOBO TEEN (12 Cs):  8-23-06.
YOUNG JEREMY TAYLOR (9 Cs):  9-25-06 (posted in Sci-Fi/Fantasy).
STREETS OF NEW YORK (10 Cs):  12-06-06.
JOSEF'S FORGE  (10 Cs): Now posting.
PROFESSOR KENYON (10 Cs):  In queue.