Volk by Piers Anthony Read Free Book Online Page B

his comprehension of the motives of individuals. He had acted quietly to get the incorrigibles and incompetents transferred to other units, and had concentrated on the wavering cases that had most promise. In due course he had brought them to full belief and acceptance, so that they worked wholeheartedly for the benefit of the group. Ernst’s troop had become one of the most disciplined and responsive, a model, and the rewards had been gratifying. They had made public demonstrations, and in the end had been selected to march at Nuremberg: an honor that brought lasting pride to every member.
    Now he applied his subtle skill to Krista. “I liked it too. But the horses were better than
Mein Kampf
.”
    â€œThe horses!” she agreed joyfully. Of course a healthy girl liked to ride. But there was also the tacit confession that she had not been interested in the
Führer
’s autobiography. The truth was, few youths were. Ernst himself had read it and found it fascinating— but that was because he had special interest. He was the only one he knew who had honestly gotten through it. The other boys, if they read at all, had much preferred the heroic sagas of Karl May, and Krista surely was no exception. Her body had changed remarkably in two years, but her mind had remained more constant. Copies of
Mein Kampf
were abundant—it was perhaps the most widely distributed book in Germany—and they remained clean and neat because they received almost no attention. This girl was probably a minimal reader; she read only what she had to, to set an example and qualify for a position of leadership.
    â€œAnd the ghost stories were better than the propaganda,” he added.
    â€œThey still are,” she agreed. Then she picked up the significance and affected shock. “Propaganda?”
    â€œDo not be naive,” he cautioned her. “Propaganda is not a bad word. All countries use it. In America the people are conditioned to believe in the saintliness of Roosevelt and the sanctity of the rights of all citizens, even the Negroids and the Jews.”
    â€œThe Jews!”
    â€œAnd what is wrong with the Jews?” he asked, smiling.
    She was so confused she splattered. “How can you—”
    Ernst laughed. “All I am doing is telling you how it is in decadent America. They have almost no concept of racial purity, of
Volk
. They take pride in being a melting pot of races.”
    â€œWhat do they know,” she said, relieved. “You shouldn’t tease me so.”
    â€œPretty girls are meant to be teased.” Actually he had been trying to draw her out, to provoke her, to verify what she was now made of, so that he could come to a conclusion whether she was worthwhile to know. Ernst certainly appreciated the physical appeal, but that was superficial, like the shine on a car. More important were the fundamental attributes of personality and intellect. In addition, he was interested in exploring the currently prevailing attitude on race, for he suspected racism had been intensifying here while he had been exposed to the far more liberal attitudes of the Americans. He could make a fool of himself in Germany if he misjudged the political climate; he preferred to play it safe.
    Krista, meanwhile, was blushing, pleased at the compliment. She had worked so hard for such a harvest! But she could not refer to it directly, so she continued the other subject. “So you did not associate with Jews, there?”
    â€œI met some. I was on a college wrestling team, and one of my matches was against a Jew.” Actually, a teammate had been Jewish, but Ernst deemed it inexpedient to advertise that here. “I must confess he was a strong man; he looked almost Nordic, and he fought fair. I would not have known his origin, had he not told me.”
    â€œAnd you touched him?”
    Ernst laughed again. “It is difficult to win a wrestling match without touching your opponent! Jews