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Visit to the village
January 29, 1998
It was a short flight from Berlin to Munich. From there Lady Constance had graciously arranged for a limousine to take me to the small town in the Bavarian Alps where the clinic was located.
Lady Constance requested that the exact location be kept confidential, but I will offer that the rustic village has overwhelmingly beautiful views of snow covered mountains and the four story, brick structure housing the clinic is quietly imposing in its comparative size to the small, commercial district in the rural village.
In a phone call from Berlin, I had politely declined the Director’s invitation to have dinner using the long trip as an excuse. I am expected at the clinic the following morning and do not wish to preempt my interview and tour with casual dinner conversation. I prefer to relax with an idle evening surveying the area.
In spending time in the village shops and bistros, it becomes evident that either the townspeople are unaware of the clinic’s activities, or they conveniently choose not to delve into the odd goings on. Judging from the number of behavior specialists I encounter during my stroll, the clinic is probably the largest employer in the village, and thus has significant economic impact.
The local leather shop alone must profit handsomely from the constant delivery of thick, broad “dog” collars to the large, brick structure. And it is incredulous to think that the shop owner’s curiosity is not piqued by the consistent orders for more collars compared to the paucity of canines in the vicinity of the town, not to mention the purchase of leashes, cuffs and other items of restraint.
And of course, there is the curiosity of the ominous, windowless vans swiftly moving through the square at very late hours. Whether an untrained, obstreperous orphan is arriving or a meek, thoroughly broken subjugant is leaving for his new owner is never known. The drivers never stop to eat or rest. The large, uniformed women arrive and depart with earnest determination, and it seems that it is only I who notice them.
Another oddity which strikes the casual visito
r but seems not to phase the villagers is, as noted, the presence of numerous, stern, young women shopping or otherwise traversing the village square to and from work, or perhaps on work break. Ostensibly, their white uniforms indicate a hospital or medical facility is nearby, but their dour demeanor and the resolute manner in which they conduct themselves seem to hint at something more gravely purposeful to their mission than nurturing the sick or providing obstetrical care.
In a small coffee shop, where I sit addressing postcards over a cup of hot chocolate, I overhear a very telling exchange between a behavior specialist purchasing a magazine and the proprietor.
“You have shorted me again, Herr Hermann.”
Her tone is aggressively firm and coolly even. Verbal intimidation is not normally encountered or expected from a young, handsome woman. But it is the shopkeeper’s histrionic reaction that is most noteworthy. Fumbling for more change, he blanches in apparent fear and begs her indulgence. The woman just extends her hand and stares with a piercing look. She does not blink or move until the flustered, middle aged man carefully recounts the change and humbly places it in her palm. After she drops it in her purse, the man nervously reaches for her wrist, bends his head and kisses the back of her hand, simultaneously dipping in subtle genuflection.
“Perhaps another visit to the clinic’s fourth floor would sharpen your concentration, Herr Hermann. I may take the time review your file.”
It is only with that ominous reference that the woman seems to smile. But the shopkeeper becomes catatonic and wordlessly watches the uniformed antagonist walk to the door. Before stepping into the cold Bavarian night air, she turns back to look at the frightened man, stifles a sardonic laugh and pulls the door closed.
So..., what does the casual observer conclude from such an encounter? As a psychologist, I know that studies have shown many errors to be subconsciously intentional. Perhaps the behavior specialist is also cognizant that the shopkeeper’s repeated mistakes in a process, which is most basic to the daily execution of his business, is actually an expression of desire. Maybe a yearning for attention in the form of a visit to a certain red brick building and an appointment with a firm, uniformed woman? My conclusion is that an interesting mental game had unfolded between the dominant specialist and the sycophantic shopkeeper. And it was a game he was most desirous of losing.
But on a larger scale, by extrapolating the shopkeeper’s behavior to the entire village, many of my questions are answered concerning the ability to run a secretive operation as large as the clinic in such a small town. The tentacles of the clinic’s deviant activities extend well beyond the forbidding walls of brick, affecting the behavior and economic well being of every citizen. Thus, it seems to be in everyone’s self interest to join in conspiring to weave the clinic’s shroud of secrecy
And to think the clinic has a file concerning the shopkeeper....
With the late hour and the time change resulting from my long journey, rest becomes essential. Despite my piqued curiosity, I do not have the energy to engage the shopkeeper in conversation. I return to my small hotel.
Chapter Five
Visit to the clinic
January 30, 1998
Mrs. W----- died several years ago. She was the founder of the clinic and as written built the business into a world -renowned center for treating socially deviant, young males and conforming them into useful subordinates.
The Directorship passed into the able hands of Dr. L------, in whose office I find myself on a bright, crisply cold, winter’s day.
The good Doctor is a fully trained psychiatrist, who I discover is not fully forth coming concerning her background. Research indicates that her past includes a hint of scandal and the threatened retraction of her medical license. But that all seems to have disappeared when a loyal customer of the clinic assuaged various medical and psychiatric boards. Charges were retracted and all action was tempered after Dr. L------ quickly volunteered to take over the duties of the then ailing Mrs. W-----. But I found it interesting that details of the alleged transgressions were completely purged from all records.
The Doctor is very young compared to her education level. In whatever scandal she found herself, she must have endeavored in earnest to rile the various boards the way she did. For most newly degreed medical types, it requires years to roil the community.
Yes, she’s young and handsome. Not beautiful in a “pin up” girl way, but pleasant to view; someone in whom you would place professional confidence. As she speaks of the clinic, it is evident that she is dedicated to her work. And I’m sure her looks and firm demeanor have brought to erection many a young, naked recruit, that is before their regimen began and they were taught the lessons of proper submissive protocol.
Our tour and conversation are replicated as follows.
“Our facility here is marvelously equipped for our pursuits, Doctor. Originally a sanitarium for the mentally ill, the Gestapo added certain refinements during the war including a most Gothic basement dug deep into the rock as a precaution against Allied bombing. Many of the Third Reich’s political rivals were detained and questioned here. Most subsequently became loyal Nazis.
“As a psychologist, I believe you’ll have great appreciation for our methods. I understand you’ve spent some time with one of our older, former protégés. Well, we’ve really been able to build nicely on the foundation Mrs. W----- set. We are now able achieve more thorough submission in a reduced period of time. Very important since it costs some $300 per day to keep a boy here.
