Six-Point Buck

By Buck Starr

Come along with Buck on his latest adventure! When much of Austria joined the Nazi movement willingly, the Austrian Jews were left to fend for themselves against the occupying force. True to his heritage, Buck helps form a small Jewish resistance from youthful Jews in Badreisen, Austria; Jews who are simply not willing to accept their unknown fa

• Language: English
• Publisher: Palmetto Publishing
• Release date: Jun 18, 2021
• ISBN: 9781638370635

Book preview

1

BADREISEN, AUSTRIA

W

hat kind of full-grown adult male holds a frightened 12-year-old at gunpoint?

A soon-to-be-dead one.

He was within arm's reach. In his small mind, I was no threat to him. A teenage Jew, less than human, who knew to be scared of Nazis. So he thought he would just have his fun terrorizing a little girl My sister. I thought differently.

My blade came out, almost instinctively, and I thrust it as hard as I could, plunging it deep into the back of his neck, just below his skull. He immediately went limp. I caught him in a bear hug, encircling his body and rifle. Without thinking, I dragged his now-lifeless body to the window, wrenched the bottom pane open, and climbed out onto our gable, him in tow. Blood smeared on the window sill as I hefted him over. I reached back and tore the sash from the window. Emma peered, a look of shock still pasted on her face. I whispered low, but urgently Em! No reaction.

Em!, a little louder, a little more urgently. Her head turned in my direction, a glint of familiarity coming to her face.

Get something and clean up the blood. She stared at me. Now! Go! Once again, she jerked a little, realization of the situation slowly returning to her.

I couldn’t wait for her. Had to move. At 6’2", 200 pounds, I was more than capable of hauling this slight chunk of evil down the incline and onto the adjoining flat roof of the neighboring warehouse. I drug him to the edge of that roof, where workmen had left heavy stones on a canvass, covering a repair job that had been interrupted by the Nazi's march into the town. I removed my knife from his neck, cut the sash in half, and tied one of the small boulders tightly to his torso, and another to his ankles. At about twenty kilograms each, the stones would do the trick.

The back wall of the warehouse doubled as a seawall on River Salzach. I laid the German's Karabiner98k aside and scrounged through the uniform pockets for extra ammo. About 40 rounds. I took the Luger off his belt and the extra magazine. If the one in the pistol was full, that would be about 16 rounds: little-known factoids shared with me by my intellectual friend who had studied every facet of Nazism in anticipation of their present occupation. I rolled the body over the short lip of the roof and watched it tumble two stories through the air into the Salzach. In just seconds, it submerged. Glorious. I hustled back into the bedroom and shut the window behind me. The blood was gone. Emma had come through.

2

T

he visit was expected. We knew our cousin Hannah had been accused of publishing anti-occupation literature. I personally knew a bit more than that: she definitely was a leading figure in the resistance. It would be only a matter of time before they searched our house. And this was the day.

Emma and I were upstairs when the knocking, or should I say banging, came on the door. As with all cowards hiding behind false authority, the Nazis were talking loudly, demanding entry, hoping to overshadow any possible hesitation from my parents to do anything but exactly what they wanted them to. They simply believed that everyone was scared of them. Fools.

My Father was far from scared. The fear had passed weeks ago. Our fate was sealed, and we knew it. There was little we could do to change that. So he calmly opened the door, and stood squarely on the stoop. He would make them ask him to come into his house.

We understand you are harboring a criminal. A Nazi officer, confirming the stereotype of Nazis as arrogant and loud, was barking at my father. No ‘Hello’. No ‘Good Morning’. Just an accusation. And a false one at that.

Good Morning my Father retorted. Would you like to come in? With this, he took the upper hand. By inviting them in, he ruined their stormtrooper tactic. Now they were reduced to being invited guests.

Of course the buffoon responded.

My father stepped aside and gestured into the foyer with his hand. Welcome. How can I be of assistance?

Nine soldiers followed their feckless leader into the house. They split up, headed in different directions. One headed up the stairs.

Your niece, Hannah, has engaged in treason against the Fuhrer. She is hiding here. We will find her.

My father was a patient person, as the level tone of his response affirmed. I’m certain you are wrong. Hannah is not here. She has not been here. We do not know where she might be.

She is here, the thug insisted.

As you say. I suppose you do not mind being wrong. I suspect a common condition for you, Father said flatly.

The Nazi didn’t quite know what to make of my father. He’d just heard words that sounded insulting, but then, what Jew would ever insult a Nazi officer? So he just said We’ll see as he moved past my father and mother into the kitchen.

Meanwhile, our adventure was starting upstairs. The rifle-bearing soldier walked into the bedroom, pushing past me as I tried to stay between him and Em. He leveled his kar98k at her, and that became his last mistake on earth.

3

A

fter I slid back into the bedroom and regained some composure, another soldier came in. He looked around the room, probably thinking that there should be a soldier up here somewhere, but said nothing. He walked around the bedroom, looked out the window, and then retreated to the hallway and into the privy.

The rifle, pistol, and ammunition were stowed under the tarp on the warehouse roof. I knew that Emma must have done something with whatever she used to wipe up the blood, and the soldier's diligent search made me nervous. But I held my nerves in check.

When he was satisfied that neither Hannah nor another soldier were upstairs, he tromped down the stairway to rejoin his fellow cretins. Emma looked at me and we finally let ourselves breath.

How’d you clean the mess? I whispered.

With some rags from the closet. They’re in the chamber pot.

Smart girl. Even Nazis won’t rummage around in someone else's shit; maybe their own, but not a strange Jewish mess. Good thinking, Em.

The group of nine, decimated by one but not keen enough to realize, reassembled in the front room. With no acknowledgement to my father from anyone, the lemmings followed the leader right out the front door, having failed in both their search and attempted intimidation. But my father knew it would not end there. And he knew it would not end well.

Emma, Buck, down here now, please, he called up the stairwell.

4

W

e sat together, the four of us, in the living room off the foyer. Father was usually understated, but on this occasion, he was direct, if not forceful.

We must speak low. The Nazis may have left one of the soldiers here to watch us.

I caught my father's eye and shook my head slightly. He knew what I was capable of, and accepted it. But he didn’t like it. He gazed towards Emma, and her look reinforced my message: the soldier was not going to be a problem.

"I guess I was mistaken. Anyway, we entered a new dimension today. One that we never wanted nor deserved. Only God knows for sure how this has happened, and only God can resolve this for us.

We have become hated for no reason. I suspect that some fear is involved; fear that we will gain too much power, or too much wealth, or maybe just too much acceptance. Ironic, as we seek none of that. But I assure you, this is just the beginning of our personal trials. We have seen some of it around, but now it has come to our front door. I need you both to understand this: the Nazis will stop at nothing to humiliate and intimidate us. Eventually, they will kill us. They will have no other choice. We will remain human, even as we suffer the indignities and pain, and that will be too much for them. They will then have to kill us in order to make their lies become truth to their kind.

He paused, looked from Emma, to me, and to Mother. Each of us must make ready. Put your most necessary things in one place. Your mother will help you decide exactly what that is. Do not pack any bags; we cannot give the appearance that we are attempting to go anywhere. But when the time comes, you will go to your chest or your shelf and grab those things that you have gathered from where they lay, and we will go. He looked down at his folded hands. I can tell you no more, and you can never mention this to anyone. You must stay close to this house at all times, so that we can leave together under very short notice. This is the last we speak of this until our time comes. Do you understand?

Em and I nodded. Yes Papa, we chorused. Not even a question from young Emma. A sad realization that, even as children, we were aware of the hatred that enveloped us. We were prisoners in our own land; they just hadn’t turned the key yet.

But I had my own ideas.

5

I

slipped out of the house through the same window I used for the dead Nazi. The warehouse roof had metal downspouts, and I shimmied down one of them and dropped to the ground near the street. Darkness was good cover, but caution was the order of the day. Nazi patrols were out enforcing the curfew. Bitches, all of them.

I worked my way through the side streets and shadows to a barn on the outskirts of the town. It stabled horses, and chickens roosted there. Hannah would be here, and I could warn her. I approached from the darkest side and peeked through the splitting boards. I could barely see the soft light behind one of the stalls; you had to be looking for it to see it. That meant that Hannah was here.

I went around the front to the door and pulled the sliding panel away from the side of the barn and squeezed through. Found the stall and shuffled carefully through it, avoiding the ever-present horse manure, and lifted the wide board that concealed the entrance. Crawling in, I could see Hannah and Hans, deep in lowly murmured conversation. They glanced my way, but not much more; I was expected.

I sat on a loose bale of straw and greeted them.

Hannah, Hans, glad you’re here. We had trouble today, and you need to know of it.

Hannah turned and met my eyes. A Nazi patrol visited your house. They came with ten soldiers and left with nine. There is one hiding in your house.

You’re just a little off on your information. That soldier is hiding in the Salzach, I said softly. Underwater.

Hans and Hannah lifted their heads abruptly in unison, asking the question with their eyes.

Yes, I killed him. And I doubt he will be the last.

Buck, my cousin began, we are forming a resistance.

What do you mean, a resistance? I asked.

An organized pushback. Against the Nazi occupation of Badreisen, she explained. We must be extremely careful. If the Nazis think someone is killing their soldiers, they will stop the masquerade and move straight to the executions.

Whoa! Slow down there, cousin. You’re going to kill Nazis? You, personally? I laughed a little; not so much as to make her think I was making fun. Just enough to let her know how unbelievable she sounded.

You’re damn right I will. But it's more than that. More than just me. She looked at Hans, then back to me. All the Jews of Badreisen. If we band together, all of us who can fight, we will be a force to be reckoned with. If we act covertly, we can do many things to stop the Germans. But we must be together on this. That's the key.

I looked at her, still trying to absorb this whole idea. Okay. So you start a resistance, as you call it. Where do you start?

It's already started. The people I talk to, the people I get my information from? Most of them are working around the Nazis every day. They have information. They say that it's only a matter of time until the Nazis start killing Jews. Some of the Jews who know of this plan are organizing against the Nazi occupation and have asked me to help. I have been talking to every Jew I know who is young enough or well enough to fight. The response is good. Some of the Elders don’t want any part of it; they say that God will protect us from harm. I don’t think the Nazis got the word. Believe me when I tell you, they mean to kill us all before it's over. I, for one, am not going to wait around, doing nothing, until they do that. So to the Elders, I say that yes, God will protect us from harm, and He will do so by using us and those that will stand with us.

Very noble, Hannah. But do you hear yourself? A resistance against the greatest military on the planet? I stopped for a second. She was serious, so I wanted to give her some serious feedback. People will die. Jews will die, Hannah. It's the nature of war. And you can call it a resistance or whatever you choose to call it, but going against the Nazis at this point in history is war; make no mistake about it. Now, I’m with you, you know that, if this is absolutely what you are committed to doing. But everyone involved, everyone you recruit, they need to know the risks: and that is that any action against the Nazis will get you killed if you get caught. Period. No discussion or argument about that. Are you ready to lead people to that conclusion of their lives? Now I sounded as dramatic as Hannah did.

In a word, yes. I am. She looked fiercely at me. Are you?

I looked at Hans. Obviously she had him convinced, but then, he always was a sucker for Hannah's charms. Yes, I’m in. What now?

She sighed, either out of relief or releasing tension. It was a tense time, for sure. We must let the Germans feel comfortable in their malice until such time as we have the numbers and munitions to stop them.

Well, if you’re talking about the Nazi I killed, he was pointing his rifle at Em. I won’t apologize for terminating those who commit insufferable acts against my family. That should make you happy, since you’re my family as well, I added.

It's not that simple, and you know it. It's not about one missing soldier. But we have to be cautious—we have too much to do and too much is at stake to raise the Nazi awareness at this stage. She was adamant. And she was also correct.

I get it. But make no mistake: I will protect Em at all costs.

Was he really going to shoot her? Hans inquired.

Doesn’t matter. The rifle was pointed at her, I quipped back.

Sorry, but it does matter. They carry those things in front of them like they’re breaking through the line at Dunkirk or something. It's just how they do it. So I ask again, was he threatening to shoot her?

I don’t think so. But she's just a child. No one should be pointing a gun at her. I was defending a lost argument now. Hans, like Hannah, was always too smart for me. I couldn’t rationalize ending that soldier, but there was no regret in my heart, either.

And no one should march into Austria and start making up rules. But they have. And as of yet, they have not starting indiscriminately killing us. So we need to exercise similar restraint until such time as we’re ready to make our move. He was getting annoying now.

Look, he probably wasn’t going to shoot her. But I snapped. I didn’t plan it. It was just the idea of an armed man standing over a frightened child with a gun, with no regard for her. I reacted; I did not premeditate. My anger, which was my defense mechanism against all things I didn’t understand, was flaring. You both should be happy. Maybe the next time I snap, it will be to protect you.

Hannah put out her hands towards us, palms down, with a quieting motion. Hey, we’re getting too loud, and we’re arguing a moot point. What's done is done. From what I hear, they didn’t even notice the soldier was missing. By the time they do, no one will remember the last time they truly saw him—hell, they all look alike in their little zoot suits. And let's be honest, would they want to take the chance of letting anyone think that one of their own deserted, or worse, defected? Let's just agree that we need use caution in all things while we finish preparations and recruitment. Okay? Can we agree to that?

I offered my hand it to Hans. He grabbed it and we shook. Hannah clasped on to the top, holding both of our hands in hers. Hans and I weren’t really arguing anyway; I was showing how tough I thought I was, and he was showing how smart he thought he was. Difference was, he really was smart enough for what lay ahead. I, on the other hand, didn’t know if I was tough enough.

Hannah, I started, How is it you hear these things that no one else does? Who are these people you know that hang around the Nazis?

Oh no, Buck, she replied. You’re not putting me in that position. I will not put anyone else in danger by revealing sources at this stage. When we know we can go forward with our plans, then you’ll know, because they’ll be part of us. But for now, well, you can’t be tortured into giving information you don’t have, right?

A chilling reality of the path we were going down.

6

B

adreisen doesn’t appear on most maps. There's no flash or pomp in our little town. With 10,000 people living here, we’re not seen as important or even historic, although we did breed a decathlete, Rors Reiter, who earned a bronze medal in the 1928 Summer Olympics. Even has a street named after him—Reitergasse. From the lore, you would take that he would have been better served, had a pub been his namesake.

Because of