| writings: the diaries of otto dix |
| Dinner with T. She is a good cook. Tonight there is veal. This is a treat. I mix martinis. We eat and entertain the baby. I make a fire. I can sit for hours in front of a fire. We sit in front of the fire. We drink coffee. The coffee is great. Now we need cake. The cake we are getting is vile. Its like eating pocket lint. We stare into the fire. What is she thinking? She is thinking about her husband. I met a man named Luck. I was at the cafe with Adam Trott. I continue to hang out with this man. He seems to be my fate. He is up to something. Its the resistance. He is involved in some way here. I am sure of this. I have made my feelings clear about the war. I have said it many times. The war is the war. There is nothing to be done. It will end when it will end. And they always end the same way: when one side runs out of money or blood. But usually its money. But over comes this man to introduce himself. He asked if I was Otto Dix. We invited him to sit. Luck is a soldier. He is a von like Trott. He is on convalescent leave. His parents live in Schandigg. He has been fighting in Russia. He stepped on a land mine. The Russians are using a mine called a___________. You can trigger it with your right or left foot there is a difference. If you step on it with your left foot it blows your nuts off. As the soldiers say you will be singing soprano. If you step on it with your right foot it pops you from a different angle and you are merely mutilated. Your balls may survive. Luck was lucky. He suffered a deep thigh wound and managed to avoid amputation. Now he is on his way to Africa. A specific transfer request for him was put in by Rommel. He knows Rommel he fought with him during the invasion of France. He says Rommel is a real soldier. His first concern is for his men. Trott tries in a subtle way to draw him out about Rommel but its no dice. This is what interests Trott: signs of unrest among the Generals. Stalingrad has done nothing to improve morale. Even Goebbels is having problems with this one. He has to figure a way to interpret the disappearance of 500,000 men in a positive way. Luck is wary of Trott. Possibly he considers him a home front type. But this is typical. He mis- reads Trott. Trott is a patriot. He is a patriot who hates Hitler. The average German tends to identify Germany with Hitler as the same thing. Trott doesnt do this. He makes a separation here. We forget the war and discuss my work. Luck has an interest in the arts. He attended the Degenerate Art show in Munich in 1937. What am I painting these days? I invite him to the studio. I show him some still lifes and landscapes. He likes. He wants to buy a still life the eggplant /horseradish combo. He likes this painting. He says its pure Otto Dix. I tell him to take it. He wants to pay. He insists. We go back and forth. He will give me coffee. He is determined to pay for the painting. I cant insult the man. He is a soldier. I take the coffee. He also gives me a carton of cigarettes. Dinner with Tanya and Luck. I think Luck can use a little female companionship. He has a girlfriend in Paris. Or had before he was sent to Russia. He has a wine stash in Paris he raids from time to time and trades for this and that mostly coffee, butter, cigs and so forth. He is going to try to sneak in a few days on his way to Africa. We eat. I make martinis. There is still some veal left. Luck has brought cake real cake. Great. These fucking cakes we have been getting are pathetic. What are the ingredients here? Its like eating pocket lint. Luck is a colonel. He seems young for a colonel. But they are moving up fast inthis war. He fought with Manstein. Of all the generals, Rommel included, Manstein is the best. This seems to be the consensus. And Luck agrees. Manstein is brilliant. It was Manstein who devised the strategy behind the invasion of France the drive through the Ardennes and the end run around the Maginot Line that caught the allies by surprise. But that was then--1940. This is now--1943. We have Stalingrad behind us. Even Goebbels has a problem with this one explaining to the German people the loss of an entire army and the shredding of the Luftwaffe. Not only that -- as Luck is careful to point out--it was a loss that could have been avoided. Stalingrad was never a military objective. The plan was a drive to the south the oil fields of the Maikop region with a divsion or two diverted from 6th army to block off Stalingrad to protect the flank. But war being an unpredictable enterprise things didnt work out this way. The army got sucked in and once this occured Hitler refused to back off. He decided to destroy the city. He liked this idea. It was the name Stalingrad. The idea of reducing to rubble the city named for his enemy was too juicy. It seduced him. But this this kind of warefare--street to street and building to building--was not the Germans game. It was the Russians game. They were masters at this. The Generals--including Manstein--pointed this out. But it was no dice. Hitler has the hard head--the testarudo. He has the hardest head. He is a southern type--a Bavarian--the Sicilians of Germany. Once an idea has been plugged into that conk of his you can forget it. Its there for life. The war was lost at this moment. We lost an army and the Luftwaffe was destroyed. To win a war you need an airforce. Also it gave the Russians a huge boost in morale. Luck says: we are going to lose this war. And may god help us. The best we can hope for now is to make some sort of deal with Russia. But this will never happen. It isnt Hitlers way. He despises Russia. He will fight to the death. His death and our own. Luck is gone. He said:: these leaves are always the same. Three days and I cant wait to return to the fighting. Its these home front types. They make me puke. Their major concern is where the next cup of coffee is coming from. I agree. These people are scum. Dont they know theres a war on! |
| Stalingrad was important for two reasons. It was militarily important the loss of an army and a crushing defeat for the Luftwaffe from which it never recovered and it was psychologically important. It was the first major military defeat for the Germans. There was this sudden inspiring thought the Germans could be beaten. Also there was something called initiative. Before Stalingrad the Germans had the inititave. They decided when and where and how the war was to be fought. Now that changed. The initiatve passed to the Russians. And in Russian hands it remained. It was Russia that decided the way in which the war was to be fought. But there was still some hope for Germany. The generals and Manstein in particular held the following view. The war could not be won. But it needednt be lost. Morale was still high. The troops believed in their officers. But this wbelief was based on the assumption that their lives would not be3 sacrificed in some pointless way to no purpose. Hitler must be persuaded to change his thinking to switch from an offensive style to a defensive style. If this could be done there was still hope. The war the way manstein now viewed it resembled a boxing match in which a smaller but quicker man was up against a larger but clumsier opponent an ox .The ox winds up and laucnhes a haymaker that the quicker fellow slips and watches go whitsleing by throwing the ox off balance and then the quicker fellow steps in to deliver a powerful hook to the body to the ribs or kidney. A counter/punching style. The Russians could not be knocked out but they could still be made to suffer. And german losses would be minimized. In this way there was still the possilbility of making a deal. But it was no dice. The counter/punching style was not his nature. Hitler had lost touch with reality. He was holed up in his cabin 600 miles from the front playing with maps and moving divisions around that no longer existed. He could speak only of the betrayal of the generals. They had been defeated at Stalingrad not because the Russians had proved a superior foe but because of the treason of the Generals. The generals were being fired left and right for defeatism. Hitlers idea of defeatism was withdrawal in the face of certain death. He was convinced they were lying and if he accepted this whole stragegy of withdrawal--that would be the end of it. They would withdraw all the way to Germany. The war could be won. It was a matter as always with Hitler of the stronger will to stand your ground and to retreat not an inch and to fight to the last bullet. Manstein flew up for a meeting. He was determined to make hitler yeild. But Manstein in the field fighting Russians was one thing; going one on one with Hitler at Army headquarters was another. He also had Hitlers staff to deal with Jodl and Keitel. What Hitler was thinking Jodl and Keitel were thinking. Manstein stepped off the plane and the first person to greet him was Jodl and the first words out of Jodls mouth were: Please dont dont upset the Fuhuer. Because when you leave we are the ones who have to take the shit! |
| I have a back problem. Yesterday I woke up and couldnt get out of bed. I had to crawl to the bathroom and very painfully hoist myself upon the bowl to piss. I get these attacks from time to time. But this one was different. The pain was unspeakable. It was like giving birth. My mother has back problems. My father-- the foundry worker--has the back of a mule. I took a hot bath. This helped. I crawled back to bed and lay on my back with my feet in the air one at a time to wriggle into my underwear. This took ten minutes. I called Tanya. Physical therapy is her dept. She came over and gave me a massage and assisted me with some yoga. We decided to visit the mineral baths. Bernard joined us. We broke out the martinis. Bernards prescription for all ailments is the same: drink the juice from 3 martinis. A suicide in town. A young man has hung himself. A painter? No--a soldier. An officer. This is unusual but not unheard of and it is beginning to occur more frequently. I knew this youth. He was a schoolteacher. Schoolteachers do not make good eastern front material. They are better having sex with students. He left a note. It was a combination of things. First there was the weather. Always they spoke of the weather. He spoke of things he had seen--the treatment of Russian civilians. He was horrified. He could not believe Germans were capable of this kind of behavior. He was convinced the war was lost and that the next campaign would be his last. More than dying he feared falling into the hands of the Russians. He had seen examples of this behavior. The Siberian troops--the Mongolians--were notorious. They enjoyed getting drunk following a battle and performing orgies of mutilation. This is true. The Russians are cruel. But its tit for tat. Who invaded who? Dinner with Martha. I am in Berlin. I have two things to do. I must visit my family and I must call on Hans Koch to arrange an abortion for my girlfriend. I arrive home. Its been a couple of weeks. Everything is fine. My wife is fine, the children are fine, the house is fine. Ive missed my children--the little monsters. They arent so little. They are shooting up. Harald is 12. Soon he will be ready to join the Hitler youth to spy on his father. The house continues to survive. We have been lucky. There is a small industrial district nearby that has so far escaped bombing--so far. We speak of Hamburg. Hamburg has put the fear of God into us all. 100,000 died in one night. They were burned alive. There was no air defense. The Luftwaffe has ceased to exist. The allies have a new bombing technique. Its a recepie: you combine one part high- explosive and add two parts incendiary weapons and the result is something called a firestorm. The HE is delivered first. 500 bombers are sent over to blast the city to smithereens and ignite clusters of fires. Now a second wave of 1000 planes armed with these incindiary weapons arrives to deliver their load. In this way the clusters are spread one to the other until a blanket of fire covers the city. The intense heat creates a blast furnace effect--oxygen is sucked from the air to feed the flames and a vaccum occurs that creates this ferocious swirling wind that intensifies and repeats the process--to further spread and feed the flames. The city was a conflagration--an inferno. It was a scene from Dante. The heat was so intense it melted the asphalt in the streets. The streets were a river of boiling tar. People caught trying to flee this mayhem got trapped in the gunk and were lit up like torches. The bombing serves no military purpose. The idea is to kill civilians. But it isnt called killing civilians. Its called "undermining morale". Its a nice evening. Its domestic bliss. I like domestic bliss. I make dinner. I make spaghetti. There is some decent meat for a change. We eat, we tell jokes. we play cards. We play hearts. My daughter loves this game. She is a vicious hearts player. In this she resembles her mother. She goes straight for the jugular. This is the way Hitler would play hearts. This is a game with some strategy behind it. I remember teaching her. She was 11. We played 4 hands and she had this thing all figured out. We played two more hands and she shot the moon. I couldnt believe it. I have never seen this done. She loves to shoot the moon. In this she resembles her mother. She goes straight for the jugular. Especially my jugular. She gets this look of helpless pleasure when she is about to lay the queen of spades on me that is not too hard to miss. She loves to shoot the moon and pass me the queen of spades. She always tosses me the queen of spades face down. martha does the same. It all comes from the mother. But I notice she never passes her children the queen of spades. We go to bed. We have sex. I am horny as a dog. This banging of Tanya in the country has made a new man of me. Ive noticed this before. When you have a girlfriend the sex improves with your wife. I have a theory about this. You are wired sexually because of the new girlfriend and there is a sort of ripple effect inspiring you to bang everything in sight--including your wife. You are ready to bang. You want to bang, bang, bang. Perhaps I am scum. I have to be careful here. This woman is not stupid. Plus she knows me. Plus I dont lie well. I get this from my mother the worlds most honest person. Its a problem. I call on Hans Koch. He gives me a physical. There is no charge. Its good to have a doctor for a friend. My health is good; its excellent. What about the smoking? the smoking is an issue. There is no question this effects the health it affects the lungs, the stomach, the heart, the circulatory system. But Hans smokes. He is worse than me. Its one after the other. He lights the next one from the one before. His fingers are orange like they have been dipped in tea. The office reeks of nicotine. I mention my back. This is one of those ailments that continues to defy the medical profession. Hans says the patient must become his own physician. Everyone has a different back problem. You have to experiment with diet exercise, mattress selection, footwear, etc. He suggests a pair of orthopedic shoes. This is a dismal prospect. I can wear the shoes and look like a shmuck or I can pass on the shoes and hobble around with this back problem like a cripple. We speak of the war. I think his infatuation with the party is beginning to cool. The bloom is off the rose a little bit in the Hitler dept. This is a hard thing to do admit you are wrong about Hitler. it can be hazardous to your health. The party is like the Mafia: its easier to get in than out. We agree the war is going badly. How do they hope to pull this thing out? The allies are planning to invade France. There is no argument here. The only question is when and where. Once this happens its curtains. We get down to business. I need an abortionist. Its for the girlfriend of a friend. He knows this is a lie and that I know that he knows. He says nothing nor does his expression betray his thoughts. He writes down a name and hands it over. In the studio. I am painting. today its a still life a flower arrangement. Flowers I can take or leave alone. Usually I prefer to leave alone. I admit its a blind spot. I like cactus. There is a mysterious quality about cactus that appeals to me. When Martha and I were in California on our honeymoon we went for a drive with Billy Wilder to a palace called Joshua Tree. It was in the high desert area about 120 kilometers from Los Angles. This was a beautiful place. Normally I dont enjoy scenery. I prefer the dark environment--a night club or pool hall. But this was a landscape of spectacular beauty. It was like being in outer space. I putz with this flower arrangement. Courbet is the master of this genre. Its deChirico for fruit and bread and Courbet when it comes to flowers. Painting a still life is like painting anything. You still have to get the drawing right. You still have the same problems with composition. Painting is painting: you have to engage the attention of the viewer. I have some geraniums and roses. I think they are geraniums. I like the pot. I try the flowers in the foreground. Then a little further back. Then over to the right. And so forth. Its not happening. Its deadly. Maybe I should add some other object. But what? A cigar, a golf club, a package of condoms? The condoms I failed to use while banging Tanya? Tanya is here. She does Yoga while I paint. This girl is amazing. She can sit on the floor with her legs behind her head for an hour thinking of nothing. Ive tried this. Its no dice. I can do some things but thinking of nothing isnt one of them. We break for tea. There is no coffee. This war is a pain in the ass. |
| I |
| *installment 17: war (in the country) |
hans von luck
flowers in a vase
by courbet
by courbet