Homage to a Broken Man: The Life of J. Heinrich Arnold - Plough

Sannerz 20and milk. “Eat as much as you like!” Emmy said happily. Heiner dug in, butfound it tasted strange. He would gladly have traded the butter for the warrationmargarine he was used to.The first morning, he set out to explore. On two sides of the village rosesteep, thickly wooded hills. Animals he had only heard about in fables couldbe seen on the grass right outside the inn: cows, pigs, sheep, oxen, and—werethey goats? Soon he would learn to tell them all apart. The big animals didn’tscare him, but the geese filled him with terror. Whenever they caught himalone they would rush at him, stretching out their necks like snakes with hissingbeaks and venomous little eyes.Heiner wandered out to inspect a cart parked in the road. It carried a monstrouswooden cask, and on one end was a spigot. He turned it just a little.A spurt, and then a jet of foul, cocoa-brown slurry gushed over him and thecart. He twisted the valve frantically, but the wrong way, and the torrent onlyincreased. “Herr Lotzenius, a spring has opened up!” he yelled. Finally hemanaged to stop the flow. When he looked up there was a ring of bystanders,watching and laughing at him. He tried to wipe the liquid manure from hisclothes, and ran.Tucked away in southern Hesse, Sannerz was scenic but isolated. Therewas one small store, but not much else. It had no train station and nopost office to put it on the map. Most of its three hundred inhabitants wereCatholic and poor. Some tried to make ends meet by farming their smallholdings; others hired themselves out as day laborers. Still others worked forthe largest employer in the village: Sannerz Tile Manufacturing. Every morning,people of all ages could be seen trooping toward the smokestack thattowered above the kiln works.It was a different world entirely from the broad avenues and townhousesof the capital—even a child could sense that. But it was only as an adult thatHeiner would realize how thoroughly his parents had burned their bridges inHomage to a Broken Man