CHAPTER 28. THE PRICE OF PRIMACY

April 28, 1945.

Sitting in the rather uncomfortable cabin of a 2.5-ton Jimmy or, if you prefer, GMC CCKW truck, riddled with the bullets of the German army, and thus slowly navigating the significantly war-scarred streets of the uninteresting city of Augsburg, twenty-seven-year-old Allied soldier Gustav Godin, whose lineage originated in the city of weavers, Lyon, was at this very hour engaged in a lively philosophical exchange with twenty-four-year-old sergeant Sigismund Vollmann of the same army.

“'Look at Augsburg today, Sigismund, at its destroyed streets, at its houses, at its stores, its families, and human lives—it all seems like a dream, a phantasmagoria, something non-existent, fictional, drawn... as if captured on film or described in a futuristic novel... but this is reality!.. and it is betrayed, first and foremost, by the smell, not the color!'”

Twenty-four-year-old Sigismund, who was as beautiful as the ancient shepherd Daphnis, flinched inside—physically, he showed no sign of it.

“'As you can see, Gustav, in this world, every destruction is, first of all, an opportunity to build something new... Here, for example, look at this destroyed butcher's shop... I knew its owners... just three years ago, they considered themselves not the owners of this shop, but the owners of the whole world; they endlessly and loudly boasted that they were the most zealous and sincere followers of the ideology of fascism, and today... today only dust and a pile of stones are left of this shop... If they had known the fate of their shop and themselves, would they have supported fascism so zealously three years ago? Be that as it may, today German cities have no choice but to be reborn from the ashes, like Rome, or to perish completely, like Pompeii or Herculaneum...'”

“'Fire, chaos, desolation... These are the synonyms of the current place in the present time... Look, Sigismund, at these trees and grass... nature does not thrive during a war... the trees and grass are crippled by the war... they are like the sick... but they are not mortally ill... after these days, a resurrection awaits them... a final resurrection that will be granted to them by the peace that has reigned on our planet...'”

“'But for how long will it reign?.. Most of all, I fear the return of fascism—it was too bright a flash of flame, the firewood for which was truly prepared for many years... A flash can ignite and go out, but as long as the firewood exists... the possibility of the flame reappearing exists too... New Goebbels will start new speeches about a new faith, not at all realizing that faith is not shouted—it is silently acted upon...'”

“'Fascism, as well as communism, is a religion for immature minds, for its main goal is: the creation of a totalitarian society, and accordingly, absolute submission, which, in turn, is most vividly reflected in the management of people's fears... As for the new Goebbels... they are not as terrible as new Mussolinis!.. However... all dictators have one fate—and the arrested Mussolini today is no exception to this deep rule of the world order... 'Can a man take fire to his bosom and not have his clothes burned?'—I say along with Solomon and once again am convinced of the truth and wisdom of these words...'”

“'Exactly... but in the era of fascism's greatest flourishing, did the majority of people not fear to challenge this phenomenon? No! They feared its children, they believed in this ideology—they wanted to live and did not at all think that their new world was destroying innocent human lives... They frantically craved to live! And they justified this craving with the fact... that even a small amoeba, through constant struggle and competition, must every minute defend its right to exist—what can be said about nations, what can be said about a person!.. Soon we will live in a new world! The aroma of the end of the war is already in the air—how pleasant this smell is: a truly refined sense of smell will be able to distinguish it amidst the smell of gunpowder and burning...'”

The 2.5-ton Jimmy truck suddenly stopped—a small traffic jam of similar military vehicles formed ahead of it: the cause of this jam was a deep crater—the result of a German shell fulfilling its purpose.

Completely opening the window on the passenger door, Sigismund Vollmann, extending his right arm a significant distance from the window, began to examine the surrounding area with special curiosity—a few moments later, his close attention was drawn to a small group of people who, at that hour, each in their respective roles, were taking part in a dog race: at times these people radiated unusually loud exclamations, while at other times—they were silent. They were not without emotion for a single moment, the totality of which made up the time of that amazing competition... And so, the race began! At the beginning of its path, the first of the six dogs quite unexpectedly dislocated its front right paw—its human mentor not only did not stop its participation in the competition but even urged it on more than before: another moment and the front right limb of that four-legged athlete was extremely swollen, but, frantically urged on by the man, the dog continued the race—after a short amount of time, it came to the finish line... first! It came in first, but it would never win again in its life—it was doomed to have its leg amputated: this was the price of primacy that it had to pay. But was this its will? Compelled by a man, it lost its own leg—what did the man lose? He only gained—he gained the title of a triumphant: if that dog were completely subordinated to its own mind, it would never have decided to sacrifice its own health in this situation—perhaps only when its own life depended on it. Primacy is a temporary value: now the triumphant will be overtaken by everyone, even stray dogs—the last will become first, and the first will become last.