Keine Streiche erlaubt

With a slight tip of his hat, the Nazi soldier pulls open the door and salutes the Oberstleutnant.  The high-ranking officer moves slowly, bringing silence to the barracks. His thin lips are pressed tightly together and his dark eyes slide about looking for evidence.

He carefully steps across the rank of soldiers as they stand at attention, quietly breathing.  He moves in close, as though his breath could deliquesce the resolve of the guilty soldier.  The only sound in the barracks are the muted thudding of the Oberstleutnant's footsteps against the dry floorboards.

At the end of the line of soldiers stands Isaac.  He is tapping a nervous toe inside his too-large boots. Like the rest of the soldiers, he knows who committed the crime, but that's not the source of his unease. He is nose-to-nose with the Oberstleutnant.

"Name?"

"Abelard Hoffman," replies the Feldwebel holding the door.

"Was wissen Sie darüber?"

Isaac's toe is frenetic and he can feel the dampness on his brow starting to coalesce.  A small bead snakes its way down the left side of his face. Isaac concentrates hard to keep it on his face, but the droplet releases its grip.  Issac's eyes descend with the drop, as it lands with a soundless splash.

As he looks down he notices the Oberstleutnant's boots opposite his own.  They are ebony, uncreased and well-shined; the boots of a model soldier.  They would be perfect except for a single piece of toilet paper stuck to the heel.  At the sight of this, Isaac lets out a quiet chuckle.

With the silence punctuated, every head in the room turns toward Isaac. The other privates look at him as though he had swallowed a live grenade.  The Oberstleutnant says nothing. His eyes widen slightly and he gently tilts his head.

But Isaac does not stop laughing. He can't stop.  The quiet chuckle has rolled into a less-quiet titter, emerging like the steady drip from a leaky faucet.

The other soldiers watch with a combination of horror and amusement.  A few are pressing their tongues between their teeth, trying to avoid Issac's plight. Across the room, a snort escapes into the air.  Like an eagle, the Oberstleutnant spins his head to the offending soldier. The snorting solder is giggling, and like a virus, his neighbours are beginning to vibrate with burgeoning laughter. The Oberstleutnant turns away from Isaac and watches the two walls of soldiers, crumbling into hysterics.  His lips are unsealed and his eyes are incredulous at the tumult of cachinnation in the barracks.

The sound of his footsteps are not heard he walks to the door. The Feldwebel at the door is looking at the ceiling and working hard to suppress a grin.

"Schweigen!"

The room quiets to a few giggles and stifled guffaws.  The Oberstleutnant's throws open the barracks' door to reveal his personal jeep, parked outside, covered with toilet paper, straw, rocks and feces.

"Ich brauche dieses saubere bis heute abend."

The soldiers straighten up.  "Jawohl Oberstleutnant!"

The Oberstleutnant leaves the entire barracks exhausted from laughter.  Isaac stands at the back of the room, his mouth still curled into a smile. As he closes his eyes and exhales, tears stream down his face.