Fireshadow (11 page)

‘Why not?'

‘Because just after you vanished, while he was still inside the hospital poking around, the doctor came by to see how I was going.'

‘Ah. I wish I'd stayed to watch.'

Günter grinned. ‘
Ja
. It was quite a performance.'

‘Where is he now?'

‘The commandant's office, with the doctor. Somehow I don't imagine he'll receive a very warm welcome.'

Erich joined him on the step and fished the tobacco pouch out from his pocket.

‘Here, but you didn't get it from me.'

‘Of course not, Youngster.' The crippled soldier set immediately about the process of rolling himself a slim cigarette.

From the mess hall, the shouts of the card game drifted across the clearing, and on the other side of the fence two guards patrolled lazily along the perimeter, on their way towards the Italian compound.

‘Günter?'

‘
Ja
?'

‘What is waiting for you at home?'

The other man shrugged. ‘Who knows, Youngster. Life will be different for all of us, eh?'

‘
Ja
.'

A large black bird, red markings below its wings and throat, flitted high above the compound. Erich followed its progress over the huts and into the forest on the other side.

‘Do you ever wish you could be like that bird?'

‘In what way?'

‘You know. Just take to the sky and fly out of here.'

‘And go where? Home is a long way from here, you know.'

‘
Ja
. But still, if I could fly . . .'

Sitting in the sunlight, Erich thought about home and his mother and sister and for the first time in many weeks allowed himself to picture them clearly, to drift back to the day, well over a year ago now, when he'd told them he'd joined up.

His mother hadn't responded, simply wept gentle, silent tears. Mathilde remained composed. She'd at least had some warning.

‘Erich . . .' Her gaze caught him straight in the face. She shook her head slightly but held his eyes. ‘I told you not to.'

‘I know, but it is something I must do. This country needs soldiers.'

And later, after their mother had left the room and he had taken her place at the table, his sister reached out and took his hand in hers.

‘You will leave her with nothing, you know.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘If you get killed in some foreign battle, what will she have left? Not even a grave to visit.'

‘You and Father will still be here.'

‘Father is never here.'

This was true. Since the war had escalated, their father spent more and more time in Berlin. Often it would be months between visits, and with the state of the post, weeks between letters.

‘I will not get killed. I promise.'

Her grip tightened. ‘I will hold you to that promise. See that you don't.'

Erich kissed her lightly on the forehead.

‘I will look in on you in the morning, before I leave.'

But the following morning he'd risen early, eager to get on with the rest of his life, and when he'd looked though the door of her room she was still asleep. Not wanting to wake her, he'd crept away.

From the treetops the bird called to its mates, a grating screech that seemed to shudder right to the core of Erich's thoughts, calling him back from home.

‘Do you know, Youngster, it is actually a beautiful place.' Günter too had been following the bird's progress.

‘What?'

‘This country. Beautiful. Rough, it is true, and very different to what we are used to, you and I, but beautiful nonetheless.'

‘
Ja
. And full of poisonous animals and rotten weather.'

‘But look at those trees, Erich. How old must they be?'

Erich studied the brooding wall of timber beyond the wire but found himself unable to see it as anything other than alien. There was no beauty in those dark green hollows and tangles, only danger and fear. Günter was also studying the tree line, though with a far more gentle, reflective expression.

‘I think a man could be happy in this country, Youngster, do you know that?'

‘It is enemy territory, don't forget.'

But even as the words came out, they sounded false. Hollow. He didn't really believe it any more. Günter seemed to be aware of the same thought.

‘Only at the moment. In a little while it will be just another piece of this world that we live in. Like those trees – they have been watching over here since long before this war and will stand guard for many years yet. I think I would like to be a part of that.'

‘What about your wife?'

‘We will see, Youngster, we will see.'

After a couple more seconds Günter reached across and took his shoulder, his grip firm for the first time in many weeks.

‘And now, I am tired from all this thinking and excitement. How about assisting a cripple back to his sick bed?'

Fifteen

November 1943

The worst part about the camp, Erich discovered, wasn't the captivity, nor the people, but the boredom. Despite the doctor's best efforts to keep him engaged, there was only so much to do in a compound in the middle of the bush, and as the weather continued to improve and the days grew warmer and longer, so too the workload in the hospital grew lighter, and Erich found himself with more and more time on his hands.

‘You know, Erich, I have a colleague at the university in Melbourne who teaches in the medical school there.'

Doctor Alexander stepped from the cool darkness of the hospital and sat slowly on the verandah beside Erich, who had been idly drawing. He stopped his sketch and listened as the doctor continued, ‘I think I might write to him and ask him to send across new textbooks and perhaps some basic exam papers.'

‘Examinations, Doctor?'

‘Nothing that would count for any official qualifications, of course, but it would give you something to focus on and would certainly assist your work for me.'

Erich considered. He'd finished working through all of the medical books the doctor had available to him in the small hospital, and his medical skills, which had been developing so rapidly before, seemed to have reached a plateau. Besides, it would be something to do.

‘If you think it would be a good idea, sir, then I am happy to try.'

‘I do, Erich. I'll try to get some more advanced anatomy and surgical procedural lessons.'

‘That would be good.'

‘And how is Günter going? I haven't seen him this week.'

A couple of the men had fashioned crutches from forest timber and, mobile again, Günter had bounded out of the hospital and back into the thick of camp life. His new assignment in the camp kitchen had captured his imagination and during the days he was to be found ordering the gardeners around or propped against one of the rough wooden benches chopping vegetables. Erich suspected that the doctor missed his company.

‘Fine, Doctor. He tells me there is no longer any pain at all.'

‘When you see him next, remind him to come and let me examine the healing, will you?'

‘
Ja
, I will.'

‘Have you had any problems with Thomas lately?'

‘No, sir.'

Not problems as such. Since being disciplined over the incident in the hospital, both Erich and Thomas had been at pains to avoid a direct confrontation. This didn't mean that there was no longer enmity. Thomas still had the task of checking the roll each morning and evening, and he would spit Erich's name with a degree of venom absent from the others on the list. It was also clear from the way Thomas watched him, closely with narrowed eyes, that the bad feeling between the two was far from forgotten.

‘That's good news. He was punished quite severely, you know?'

‘I had gathered. What happened?'

‘His pay was docked and his weekend privileges cancelled for three months.'

Erich smiled. Günter had also heard from one of the Australian guards that Thomas was now so much of a joke in the guard's mess that the boy almost never appeared there except for meal times. This was a mixed blessing, though. While Thomas was now too nervous of the repercussions to pursue his animosity, he was an almost constant presence around the camp. Erich often felt a strange sensation, and a glance around the perimeter would reveal Thomas in one of the towers or on foot patrol outside the wire, watching. Always watching. And waiting, Erich suspected.

‘I don't imagine he'll give you any more trouble.' The doctor changed the subject. ‘The war is not going too well for your country, I understand.'

A shrug was all the reply Erich could muster. In truth, despite his best efforts, nowadays he was finding it increasingly difficult to maintain his interest in such far-off matters.

‘Some are saying that it will all be over before Christmas.'

‘Do you believe them?'

‘It is possible, Erich, certainly possible. Have you heard from your family at all?'

The question, asked casually, was nonetheless a deliberate probe. It was a subject Erich still studiously avoided and the doctor was well aware of the fact.

‘No. The mail is not working well. I think that things at home must be very confused at the moment.' Just last week Herman in Hut Twenty-six had received a letter from his sweetheart, dated over a year earlier.

‘Well, I'm sure that things will be fine. They usually manage to get bad news through, so it is probably good that you don't hear anything.'

The doctor stood up.

‘As there doesn't appear to be anything for me to do here, I might wander back to my hut for a little rest, Erich. If anything comes up, will you please have the guards summon me?'

‘Certainly, Doctor.'

‘Good. I'll pop back across later in the afternoon, just to check in before you go off duty.'

Erich watched him as he picked his way across the compound towards the gate. The last six months and the cold, wet winter had taken their toll on the old man and even in the short time that Erich had known him he'd become more frail. He needed his afternoon rests now.

Bored, Erich wandered back inside hoping to find something, anything, that needed doing. As soon as he walked through the door, he had the feeling that something was wrong, out of place. He couldn't work out exactly what and for a few minutes he wandered the room, checking that everything was where it belonged.

Then he noticed it. At the far end, behind the doctor's desk, the supply cupboard, full of drugs and equipment, was unlocked. The doctor had forgotten to secure it.

In all his months in the hospital, not once had the cupboard been open and unattended. It was far too dangerous. When there were patients in the beds, the doctor would be careful even to the point of positioning himself to shield the contents of the cupboard from their eyes when he opened it.

‘If they don't know what's in there, Erich,' he would say, ‘they won't be tempted to explore it further.'

And Erich agreed. The routine of camp life made items like morphine and rubbing alcohol attractive forms of recreation.

But now the cupboard was unlocked and there was nobody around. Crossing to the hospital door, Erich checked outside. The camp was all but deserted. Most of the men were in the forest and would be for hours. Erich quickly snapped the lock on the door to keep others out.

He'd been in the cupboard many times, but always under the watchful eye of the doctor, getting only what he'd been asked for. Now, swinging the heavy wooden door fully open, Erich's heart pounded. He knew what he was looking for.

The scalpels were in a tin box on the top shelf, and with trembling hands Erich eased the box down, placing it on the doctor's desk. Camp regulations meant that all sharpened or cutting implements needed to be accounted for daily and kept locked away when not in use. Everything, from the cutlery in the mess to the axes used in the forest, was strictly inventoried and tracked. Snap inspections and counts of equipment would take place, and if anything went missing, thorough searches followed immediately. The Australian guards, though relaxed, took no chances with the possibility of the prisoners arming themselves.

But here, in padded slots in the tin, were six pearl-handled surgical knives. Their blades, wrapped in little cardboard sleeves, nestled in a separate compartment. In all the months he'd been here, the only time that the scalpels had been used was during Günter's leg operation. Other than that, there'd been no call for them.

Lifting one of the slim-handled implements from its slot and clipping a blade into place Erich hefted it lightly, appreciating its balance. The knife was weighted perfectly for delicate cutting and slicing. In the pale hospital light, the mother of pearl handle took on a lustre that gave it a slightly iridescent appearance and made it seem to glow from within. Without stopping to think, Erich slid the protective cardboard sleeve back over the blade and slipped the whole thing into the inside pocket of his uniform jacket.

Closing the tin, a beam of light angling in from one of the dusty windows caught the lid, and in its gleam Erich noticed some fine engraving etched into the metal. He had to strain his eyes to read it:
To my darling husband on the occasion of his graduation. With fondest love, Emmaline
.

He stopped, guilty, realising with a sudden, sickening jolt the enormity of what he was doing. This wasn't simply theft, certainly not war. Taking that scalpel would mean much more; it would mean a betrayal of trust, of friendship. An act without honour.

The excitement that had so briefly clouded his judgment lifted and, feeling shamed, Erich was reaching back into his pocket to remove and replace the scalpel when the door behind him was kicked open with enough force to shatter the lock.

Sixteen

November 1943

‘Stand right where you are, Fritz. Don't move a muscle.'

Turning slowly, Erich stared once again along the barrel of Guard Thomas's rifle.

‘You didn't think this was over, now, did you?'

The only thing Erich could think of doing was staying mute. In his inside pocket, the weight of the scalpel was heavy and accusing.

‘You seem to make a habit of poking around in here on your own, eh? Step away from the desk, nice and slowly.'

The rifle twitched and, obeying, Erich moved to the middle of the floor.

‘I knew if I watched you for long enough you'd throw an opportunity like this my way.' He was moving towards the desk himself now, all the while keeping the gun level.

‘Now, let's see what you're up to.' Holding the rifle with one hand, his finger still hovering at the trigger, he reached down with the other and flipped the tin open. From where Erich stood, the empty slot for the missing scalpel seemed dark and enormous.

‘Right,' said the guard, ‘where is it?'

‘Where is what?'

Thomas's eyes narrowed. ‘I'm very glad you chose to say that, mate.'

Thomas snapped the tin closed and slipped it into his pocket, then, levelling his rifle with both hands once more, he gestured in the direction of the door.

‘Move.'

At gunpoint, Erich was forced out and into the sunlight. At Thomas's direction he headed towards the parade ground. They were halfway there when Stutt, stunned at the sight of one of his men being so openly marched under threat, came bolting from the mess towards them. Close behind him, Günter hopped on his crutches. Seeing them, Thomas stopped.

‘Wait!'

It took only seconds for Stutt to arrive.

‘May I ask what is going on here?'

‘Yes,
sir
.' Thomas smirked and emphasised the ‘sir'. ‘I have just detained this prisoner for theft of contraband items.'

‘Don't be ridiculous.'

‘If you wouldn't mind,
sir
, I would request that you search the prisoner.'

For a long moment the German officer and the Australian guard held eye contact. Thomas was grinning, clearly enjoying the moment. From the nearest gates, two of the senior guards, noticing the confrontation, were running towards the group. Stutt looked at Erich, his expression impossible to read. Both knew that he had no choice.

‘Very well. Erich, would you empty your pockets, please.'

Resignedly, Erich reached into his jacket and drew out the scalpel, handing it to his commanding officer.

‘What is this?'

‘A scalpel, sir.'

‘I can see that, Pieters. What are you doing with it in your possession?'

‘I . . .' There was no explanation he could give. Thomas pulled the tin from his pocket.

‘It belongs in here, sir. I found the prisoner in the process of removing it from a locked cupboard in the hospital.'

‘Is this true, Pieters?'

‘No, sir, I was about to return it.'

‘Ha!' Thomas snorted. ‘With respect, sir, I don't think this prisoner suitably trustworthy.'

‘The commandant'll decide that, Thomas.' The guard captain on duty arrived and took charge. ‘Stand at ease!' he ordered Thomas, who reluctantly lowered his rifle.

‘Heinrich, what do you think?'

Stutt shrugged. ‘It would seem that we have little choice but to take Pieters here across to the commandant's office for disciplinary action.'

‘Fair enough. Come on, son.'

The older of the two guards took Erich's arm and led him towards the gate, Stutt and the other two guards following. As they exited the outer gate the captain turned to Thomas.

‘That'll do for the moment, Thomas. Return to your duty and I'll send someone to get you if you're needed.'

‘But sir . . .'

‘Don't give me that!' he roared. ‘Get back to your bloody post and later on we'll discuss the reasons for you not being there in the first place.'

Chagrined, but still smirking, Thomas slouched away along the perimeter wire, and Erich headed under escort towards the administration office.