Ingo Schweitzer, the possessive Prussian (the lost chapters)

Several chapters of The Armed Forces are lost, the last known copy destroyed in some great, hellish fire. What remains of the text is presented here.
"The Armed Forces" by Jan C. Zločin. 
Ostuda Press, Brünn, 1942.
Now in the public domain.
These excerpts translated from the German by the Targu Mures Historical Society.

Circle of the Ingaevones

Suum cuique

From the 3rd chapter

The foul creature opened his eyes. They beamed, and his face and entire appearance at once grew milder and light. Then his mouth opened, and his lips and his tongue rolled like golden rivers: “Ingo, we are brethren! Not by the same mother, no, yet our father is the same. Yes, our Heavenly Father is father of all man, but listen well dear brother! Your earthly father is my father also, for his name is Josef Becher, and from him you have that bold and strong spirit!”

Was it true? Was he no Prussian after all? Doubt fell upon Ingo like a shadow or a cold claw. His life, then, was a lie and a farce, his very flesh a perversion. It was no wonder then, that he found no home in the North. He was but a snake, and a liar.

As he withdrew the knife, the creature breathed no more. Ingo delivered his prayer: “And may your filthy, Slavic blood flow through these streets like the great Donau, and may it pool in some southern sea, so far away from my land and my people.”

From the 5th chapter

Oh Iselin, my love! In my childhood years, as I first looked upon you, I was struck with … With some feeling … A feeling I could (and can) not understand. Oh, Iselin of Ostsee, will I ever see you again? Shall we again segelglide upon that furious, yet calm See? I smile at you as from distant memory, and you reveal your milky maiden’s secrets and secretions … Those days are no more, fallen along with my virtue, forever locked in my closet at that foul Barracks for the sexually deviant.

From the 6th chapter

Ancient rituals of old Prussia
General, General!

From a chapter unnamed

Dear all who I have failed, abandoned or otherwise lost: Here is my Song to Sudovia.

Grey sea spirit!

Rise above the rising wave
Sail away without a sail
Sing your voiceless elegy
And mourn those not yet lost

Grey sea spirit!

Were I not Ingo Schweitzer
If I were someone else
I’d join you, grey sea spirit
And free my inner self

Grey sea spirit,
great Ostsee,
all Oceans grande!
To feel your violence,
your salt and haze,
to see my home again!

Oh, to pass away
in your cold embrace,
in any other way …
Not in this cruel, black puddle

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