Part Four: War of Attrition — Chapter 5 - The Barman of the Ritz

Frank hoped that the rest of the evening would go smoothly, but shortly before eight o’clock the Widow’s surprise guest makes his appearance: Arno Breker, sporting the expression of a pretentious intellectual, arrives accompanied by his wife, a tall, dark-haired Greek woman, and Ernst Jünger.

With his three-piece suit in tartan tweed, immaculate pocket handkerchief, and his captivating smile, Captain Jünger is the epitome of sophistication. Compared to him, Breker has little more than his unearned vanity. Frank entrusted Luciano with the task of making the Bloody Marys, but Breker and his wife have sent them back, demanding that their cocktails be made “by the barman personally.”

Loathsome.

The decor, on the other hand, seems to please them.

Breker, who is very much at ease, speaks louder and louder. He talks about the Eastern Front and the persistent rumors of Jewish massacres. Jünger suggests that “certain butchers in Ukraine and Belarus have liquidated entire villages,” then goes on to tell a curious story. A group of wounded Russian soldiers had been lying in agony for hours, pleading for help. A German platoon passing through the forest spotted them and were about to take them prisoner when the Russians opened fire on the very men who might have eased their suffering.

“This just demonstrates the extent to which this war has degenerated into something bestial,” says Jünger. “When a wild animal is wounded, it lashes out at anyone who tries to come to its aid.”

As Frank approaches the table again a few minutes later, a curiously garrulous Jünger is telling Breker and his wife about his trip to the Comédie-Française last night to see Molière’s Les Femmes Savantes. Frank suspects the remarks are intended for him, as though Jünger is secretly including him in a conversation with people he finds tedious.

“What I found most striking was that the whole audience, French and German, had precisely the same reaction to Molière’s humor.”

Then Jünger turns pointedly to the Brekers.

“So, tell me, do we really have to hate each other?”

Breker and his wife are dumbfounded. As for Frank, he smiles at the writer and silently thanks him for giving this war a little nobility.