A Matter of Honor

“Never’eard of’im, sir,” said the porter, almost standing to attention when he recognized the regimental tie. He turned to a book that lay open on the desk. “‘e isn’t registered,” he added, a Woodbine-stained thumb running down the list of names in front of him. “Why don’t you try the lounge or the games room?” he suggested, gesturing with the thumb to a door on the right.

“Thank you,” said Adam, not dropping the plummy tones. He walked smartly across the hall and through the swinging doors—which from the lack of paint on the base looked as if they had been kicked more often than they had been pushed. He glanced around the room. Several students were lounging about reading German papers and magazines. He wasn’t sure where to start until he spotted a studious-looking girl on her own in a corner, poring over a copy of Time magazine. Brezhnev’s face stared out from the cover. Adam strolled over and took the empty seat beside her. She glanced sideways at him and couldn’t hide her surprise at his formal dress. He waited for her to put the paper down before asking, “I wonder if you could assist me?”

“How?” inquired the girl, sounding a little apprehensive.

“I just need something translated.”

She looked relieved. “I will see if I can help. Have you brought something with you?”

“Yes I have, I hope it isn’t too difficult,” he said. Adam took the envelope from his inside pocket and extracted the first paragraph of Goering’s letter. Then he put the envelope back in his pocket, took out a little notebook, and waited expectantly. He felt like a cub reporter.

She read the paragraph over two or three times, then seemed to hesitate.

“Is anything wrong?”

“Not exactly,” she replied, still concentrating on the words in front of her. “It’s just that it’s a little bit old-fashioned, so that I might not be able to give you the exact sense.”

Adam breathed a sigh of relief.

She repeated each sentence slowly, first in German and then in English as if wanting to feel the meaning as well as just translating the words.

“Over the last … past year we have come to know … each other somewhat … no, no,” she said, “quite well.” Adam wrote each word down as the girl translated them.

“You have never disguised—perhaps a better meaning is ‘hidden,’” she added, “your distaste for the National Socialist Party.”

She raised her head and stared at Adam. “It’s only out of a book,” he assured her. She didn’t look convinced but nevertheless continued. “But you have at every time … no, at all times, behaved with the courtesy of an officer and a gentleman.”

The girl looked up, even more puzzled, as she had now reached the last word.

“Is that all?” she asked. “It doesn’t make sense. There has to be more.”

“No, that’s it,” said Adam, quickly taking back the sheet of paper. “Thank you,” he added. “It was most kind of you to help.” He left the girl and was relieved to see her shrug resignedly and return to her copy of Time. Adam went in search of the games room.

When he swung the door open he found a young man in a World Cup T-shirt and brown suede shorts. He was tapping a table-tennis ball up and down listlessly.

“Care for a game?” said the boy, not looking at all hopeful.

“Sure,” said Adam, removing his jacket and picking up the table-tennis racket at his end of the table. For twenty minutes Adam had to go all out to make sure he lost 18-21, 21-12, 17-21. As he replaced his jacket and congratulated his opponent, he felt sure he had gained the young man’s confidence.

“You put up a good fight,” said the German. “Give me good game.”

Adam joined him at his end of the table. “I wonder if you could help me with something?” he said.

“Your backhand?” said the young man.

“No, thank you,” said Adam, “I just need a paragraph of German translated.” He handed over the middle paragraph of the letter. Once again, the would-be translator looked puzzled.

“It’s from a book, so it may seem a little out of context,” Adam said unconvincingly.

“Okay, I try.” As the boy began to study the paragraph, the girl who had already translated the first section came into the games room. She made her way toward them.

“This hard to make out, I am not good translation for,” the young man said. “My girlfriend better, I think. I ask her. Liebling, kannst du dies für den Herrn auf Englisch?? Without looking at Adam he passed the second paragraph over to the girl who immediately said, “I knew there was more.”

“No, no, don’t bother,” said Adam, and grabbed the piece of paper away from the girl. He turned back to the boy and said, “Thank you for the game. Sorry to have bothered you,” and walked hurriedly out into the corridor, heading for the front door.

“Did you find’im, sir?”