Operation Ganymede - 6. Chapter 6 - The Weight of the Myth

Klein... Pack up!

Barely had the doctrine lesson ended when the announcement dropped. It was Unteroffizier Meyer himself—yes, the very same 19-year-old on leave who led the training sessions—who delivered the news in a strong, commanding voice:

— And report to the Manor in thirty minutes.

The Manor? Did this mean that he, Arnfried, had been selected?

A mix of euphoria and vertigo seized the boy. Not a second to lose! Without hesitation, he strode quickly to his tent, his heart pounding in his chest. He burst inside like a gust of wind, his hands moving without pause. Everything happened quickly: grabbing his backpack, packing a spare shirt, toiletry bag, two towels, sports shorts and sweater, two flannel undershorts, and two pairs of socks. In one swift motion, he adjusted his side cap, pulled on his beige stockings, then buckled his strap and belt.

— OK, he whispered to himself, "Kamerad" Klein is ready.

Exactly thirty minutes later, the young Hitler Youth stood in front of the Manor’s guard post in immaculate uniform:

— KAMERAD KLEIN, SQUAD B, STAMM ACADEMY, REPORTING FOR DUTY!

In front of him was a sentry. A new face, likely a Pimpfe from the service squad.

— Ja. First floo...
— Ich weiß! (I know!)

Arnfried climbed the grand staircase four steps at a time, his heart racing. One step. Two. Three. With each step, a detail caught his eye: a stack of files placed on a step, a crate with a heavy lock, shadows in the dim light. On the sixth step, he saw him.

Another boy. A Pimpfe, sitting on a bench with a backpack at his feet.

— Heil Hitler! Arnfried called, tense but disciplined.
— Heil Hitler! the boy responded, slightly hesitant.

— Y-you’re waiting? Arnfried asked, pointing to the door behind which the Oberleutnant was likely seated.
— Ja. You too?
— Yes, same.

The boy pointed to a spot against the wall.
— I settled here. Do you think this is the right place?
— Yes, I think so, Arnfried replied, placing his backpack alongside the other boy’s.

He was about to ask the Pimpfe for his name when footsteps echoed through the hall. A new voice, clear and confident, broke the silence:

— KAMERAD EISEINMANN, SQUAD D, STAMM ACADEMY, REPORTING FOR DUTY!

Arnfried turned abruptly. The blonde!

— Awesome, Arnfried thought, impressed.

Time seemed to stretch as the three boys waited silently in the hallway. Then, the door suddenly opened, revealing the Oberleutnant. The boys instinctively straightened.

— At ease!

The command snapped through the air. Immediately, the boys, who had stood to attention, followed the officer into the room. They instantly recognized the space they were entering: the Manor’s library, where they had undergone their auditions. But this time, the space had been transformed. The tall shelves filled with books remained unchanged, but rows of desks now gave the place the look of a classroom.

A fourth figure was already there, seated and attentive. Arnfried instantly recognized him: a Pimpfe he had seen once or twice at the camp.

Without a word, the newcomers stepped forward to take seats behind the vacant desks, joining their comrade.

The Oberleutnant resumed speaking, his stern gaze sweeping over the group:

— From now on, everything said, everything that happens within these walls, is to remain absolutely confidential. Am I clear?

— JA VOLL, MEIN OBERLEUTNANT!

Four adolescent voices rang out in unison, marked by unwavering discipline.

— Perfect. Sit down.

The two Pimpfe settled in the front row. Behind them, Arnfried and the blonde, Eiseinmann, took their seats, their attention fully focused on the Oberleutnant. Without a word, the officer picked up a vase sitting on his desk.

— Who among you recognizes this depiction? he asked, holding it up.

A silence followed. Then hesitant murmurs.

— Two men? ventured one of the Pimpfe.
— Maybe... Greeks?
— Ja, Eiseinmann. But what else?

The blonde, without hesitation, answered confidently:

— I believe it’s Ganymede.
— Jaaa… Perfekttt!

Arnfried furrowed his brow.
— “Ga…” what? he murmured, puzzled.

On the vase, he could make out two figures: one, old and imposing, with a thick beard; the other, frail and young, holding out a vessel. The latter, entirely naked, seemed timeless. How on earth could Eiseinmann know such a thing?

The Oberleutnant explained:

— This is a depiction of the myth of Ganymede. It is said that this boy, the one on the right, was of incomparable beauty. Zeus, on the left, desired him so much that he abducted him to serve as his cupbearer.

A Pimpfe, intrigued, timidly asked:

— “Cupbearer” … what does that mean?

— Cupbearer, the officer patiently repeated. Does anyone know what that means?

The boys exchanged perplexed glances. But once again, Eiseinmann took the lead:
— The one who serves drinks. Zeus turned into an eagle to capture him while he was herding sheep. And ever since, he has been in the sky, transformed into a star.

— Ja, Eiseinmann! Perfect.

Arnfried stared at him with a mix of admiration and annoyance. This boy, calm and confident, seemed to know everything. But what could this guy possibly not know?

— Come closer...

The Oberleutnant had resumed his professorial tone, his piercing gaze inviting the boys to step closer to the vase. One by one, the four young recruits obeyed, approaching the object as though it contained a riddle to be solved.

— What do you notice?

Silence at first. Then Heissler, hesitant, ventured:
— Uh… the one on the left is sitting… like on a throne, I think.
— And?
— Oh, well, it makes sense. It’s Zeus! He’s a god.
— Yes, but what else? Look more closely.

A slight discomfort settled in, each boy trying to avoid the others’ gaze. Finally, one of the Pimpfe in the front row muttered:
— Him… the one on the right… well, he’s naked.

The Oberleutnant crossed his arms, his tone becoming more insistent:
— Describe precisely what you see.
— Uh… he’s naked… completely naked.
— And?

The boy stammered:
— He’s pouring… something… maybe water… or wine?

A faint smile crossed the officer’s lips.
— Not that. What else?

A heavy silence fell until, almost reluctantly, another boy said:
— You can see his… well, his genitals. They’re very visible.

This response seemed to break an invisible barrier. The Oberleutnant slowly nodded before posing an even more unexpected question:
— In your opinion, how old is this boy?

Arnfried raised his eyebrows, puzzled.
— His age? But why? Isn’t he a man? I mean… he looks more “like us,” right?

The Oberleutnant pointed to a detail.
— Look at his genitals.

A flush of embarrassment rippled through the group, but the boys complied.

— Oh, yes… they’re small, observed one of the Pimpfe.
— And compared to yours, what would you say?

The boys exchanged incredulous glances. What kind of question was this? The discomfort became palpable.

— C-compared to us? stammered one of them.

Eiseinmann, still self-assured, sat up slightly:
— It’s because he’s like the Pimpfe.

This statement made the two younger boys start, and Heissler nearly protested out loud.

— Just because we’re Pimpfe doesn’t mean…!

The Oberleutnant didn’t give them time to continue.

— The artist of this depiction, a reproduction of the original displayed in the Naples museum and dating back to the 5th century BCE, intended to show that Ganymede, though he has the stature of a man, is actually a very young adolescent. Look closely at his anatomy: his genitals are not yet developed like those of an adult. And as further evidence, there’s no visible body hair. This confirms that he is a very young boy.

The four boys, initially hesitant, dared to take a closer look at the vase, trying to examine it without showing their discomfort. The Oberleutnant’s authority and assurance seemed to lend absolute legitimacy to the exercise, gradually dispelling their initial embarrassment.

— Return to your seats.

They obeyed, returning to their desks in silence, punctuated by the creaking of chairs. The atmosphere remained tense, laden with a mix of unease and curiosity.

The Oberleutnant fixed them with a steady gaze before asking a new question, this time with a more direct tone:

— Now, tell me what this scene inspires in you. Heissler?

Theophilus Heissler, the youngest of the group, timidly raised his hand, as if afraid of being reprimanded for a wrong answer:
— Uh… the scene? Well… the boy… he’s serving water to Zeus… or maybe wine?

The officer raised an eyebrow.
— Is that all it inspires in you?

Heissler lowered his eyes, uncomfortable.
— N-no… I mean… he’s naked because maybe he feels… maybe freer like that?

This time, it was Eiseinmann, the blonde, who intervened with confidence:
— NO, IT’S BECAUSE HE’S BEAUTIFUL, AND IT SHOWS HIS BEAUTY!

A slight ripple of unease ran through the room. Arnfried exchanged a discreet glance with his comrades, searching for an implicit answer in their eyes. All turned mechanically toward the Oberleutnant, awaiting his judgment.

— Yes, Eiseinmann, that’s correct. For the Greeks, the body did not need to be hidden. Even less so when it was an expression of beauty. Ancient sculpture, which we have inherited, testifies to this. Visit any museum, and you’ll understand immediately.

A murmur of agreement passed through the boys, who turned their attention back to the vase, intrigued by this new perspective on what they thought they understood.

The Oberleutnant sensed that he had captured their full attention. His voice grew slightly more grave, as if to underscore the importance of what he was about to say:

— At this stage of your training, I can already tell you one essential thing: like Ganymede, you must be cunning. You will need to use your intelligence. But that is not all.

He paused, looking at each of them in turn with an intense gaze.

— You must also harness the Aryan beauty you have inherited. It is a weapon, a strength. You will embody the ideal. You will inspire trust, respect, admiration. Learn to use it.

A silence fell over the room. The boys, captivated, remained frozen in their seats. The Oberleutnant’s words resonated within them, stirring a mix of pride and gravity.

Arnfried, however, felt a chill run down his spine. These words, though spoken calmly, carried a weight he could not yet name.