The Cross of Iron (16 page)

‘What did you want to study?’

‘Medicine. I wanted to be a doctor. I’ve been crazy about medicine as long as I can remember.’

Pasternack hummed thoughtfully. ‘Since you couldn’t make it, why didn’t you go in for something else. Salesman or something.’ He glanced at Dietz’s thin, frail body. ‘I should think bricklaying would be too tough for you.’

‘It is,’ Dietz said gloomily. He remembered how done in he had always been when he came home from work; sometimes he would throw himself down on his bed and weep from sheer exhaustion. There wasn’t anything else, though, he went on. ‘When I finished school, my old man was unemployed. I haunted the employment bureau, but it wasn’t any use. One time I tried for an office job, but they didn’t want me. Even though my marks in school had always been high.’

Pasternack nodded sympathetically, and Dietz looked grateful. ‘It was tough,’ Dietz went on. ‘There just didn’t seem to be anything for me. Then one day my father heard about a construction job and I went over and got it. It was supposed to be just a starter, till something better came along, but once I was in it I was stuck.’

‘That’s the way it always is,’ Pasternack said. ‘Same thing happened to me. When my old man had his accident, I went to work in the mine, and there I stayed until I was conscripted.’

They fell silent, looking out over the reeds. Dietz absently watched a small beetle crawling along the ground. When it had made off he said: ‘You know, when I remember what it was like on that job, I don’t know that I’m so crazy about getting home. When I think of our foreman—I tell you he was a hundred times worse than any of these birds in the army. Here you can lie down and take a snooze once in a while, but there you didn’t dare take time out for a smoke. He once threw a brick at me—hit me square in the small of the back. It could have killed me.’ His eyes filled with tears of resentment at the memory. He swallowed hard.

‘There are bastards like that everywhere,’ Pasternack said. ‘We had our share of them.’ He shook his head and sighed. ‘The bastards,’ he said bitterly.

Dietz smiled dismally. ‘That’s why I don’t give a damn,’ he said. ‘Back home they go for you and here in the army they go for you. I don’t know which is worse.’ He picked up a dry stick and broke it in two. ‘It’s a poor affair anyway you look at it,’ he murmured.

Pasternack stared unhappily into space. The sun was warm on his back. The stillness and the sharp tang of the reeds reminded him of days on the banks of the Oder. His father had taken him swimming when he was a little boy. Being near water always reminded him of those days—the happiest in his life.

He was gazing abstractedly at the bridge when he suddenly caught sight of Kern. The innkeeper was moving slowly toward the bridge, looking warily to all sides. Dietz, who had also spied him, called out his name. Kern turned round. Then he relaxed and walked swiftly toward them.

'What are you doing around here?’ Dietz asked in surprise.

Abashed, Kern scratched his chin. He glanced uneasily toward the houses. ‘I had to go, ' he said hoarsely. ‘Devil only knows what I done to get this upset stomach.’

Both the others grinned. While crouching with Krüger behind the machine-gun they had witnessed Kern’s wild flight.

‘Steiner’s been looking all over for you,’ Pasternack said. ‘You can’t just leave like that.’

‘Leave?’ Kern pretended to be indignant. ‘What do you mean leave? I told you I had to go. Oooh!’ He clutched at his belly in pretended pain. ‘Never wanted to shit like this before. I can hardly stand. What’s been happening, anyway? What are you doing here?

‘Sentry duty,’ Dietz said.

‘What about the Russians?’

‘Russians!’ Pasternack laughed. ‘You mean the women?’

Kern stared at him. ‘So that’s what they were!’

‘The houses were full of women. Part of a mortar battalion.’

Kern paled. His chin dropped. Steiner will kill me, he thought; what an idiot I’ve been. He had run only a few hundred yards into the woods, then thrown himself down on the ground with a sensation of overwhelming relief. But when minute after minute passed and he did not hear the expected din of battle, he had become nervous. Tom between fear and his sense of duty, he had finally dragged himself to his feet and gone part of the way back. Then, hearing noises in the underbrush, his terror had returned with redoubled force, and he had hidden behind a tree for a long time. Discovering that the sounds were being made by some animal, he had gone on. Steiner would not believe his reason for running away, any more than Pasternack and Dietz did. The somewhat malicious expressions of the two men increased his dread.

Pasternack, who was looking up at him with amusement, yawned. ‘Go on over there and tell them to send us something to eat,’ he said to Kern. ‘I’m hollow.’

Kern hesitated.

‘They won’t shoot you,’ Dietz said reassuringly.

‘You know how Steiner is,’ Kern said sulkily, his hand touching the burned spot on his face.

Dietz laughed angrily. ‘He won’t try that again,’ he said.

Kern stood indecisive for a few moments more. Then he squared his shoulders. ‘Well, see you later,’ he said.

As he crossed the bridge, he saw the others. They were pushing one of the wagons and were so absorbed in their labours that they did not notice him. Schnurrbart was holding the shaft and steering while Hollerbach and Steiner, their backs braced against the wagon, walked backwards, pushing it step by step towards the bridge. Schnurrbart looked up. Kern quickly put his fingers to his lips in a petitionary gesture, and strode rapidly toward them. When he reached the wagon, he braced his shoulder against one of the cross-pieces and began to shove with the others. In a moment they reached the bridge. Since they had to lift the wagon up a step about eight inches high, they paused. Steiner cursed under his breath and wiped the sweat from his brow. Suddenly he saw Kern standing beside the wagon. Hollerbach, catching sight of him also, exclaimed: ‘Christ!’ They stared at one another in silence. Then Steiner slowly walked up to the innkeeper. ‘Where have you been?’ he asked quietly.

Kern hunched his shoulders and did not answer. When Steiner repeated the question he stammered: ‘In the woods—I had to—I had cramps—that soup must have upset my bowels.’

‘I see,’ Steiner said.

Kern ducked his head as though a shell were whining over him. Schnurrbart saw him begin to tremble. As always he wondered at the uncanny effect of Steiner’s personality. Although Kern was half a head taller than Steiner and was certainly not inclined to be timorous, he was cringing like a schoolboy expecting a deserved whipping. Standing as he was now with drooping shoulders and white face, he looked the personification of fear, and Schnurrbart suddenly felt disgust so violent that he could taste it as a bitterness in his mouth. He had to put an end to this disgusting scene.

Turning to Steiner, he said: ‘Let him alone. We were all scared stiff when we stood in front of that door. Don’t forget Kern has been at the front just a few days. That sort of thing can happen to anyone.’ He hesitated, then lifted his jaw aggressively. ‘You went to pieces too,’ he added sharply.

Steiner slowly turned toward him. When Schnurrbart looked into his eyes, he was frightened. But there was no outburst. Without a word, Steiner took his tommy-gun from the wagon, thrust two clips of ammunition under the strap of his pack, and started across the bridge. As they watched, he disappeared among the trees. The men stared at one another in alarm.

‘Now we’re in for it,’ Kern murmured.

Hollerbach turned on Schnurrbart. ‘Man, you shouldn’t have said that!’ he exclaimed angrily. ‘You know how he is.’

Schnurrbart was still staring fixedly at the spot where Steiner had vanished. He felt like a man who has accidentally set his own house afire and is standing before the smoking ruins. He stood numbed until Hollerbach shook him violently by the shoulder and shouted in his ear: ‘Go after him and bring him back.’

‘It’s no use,’ Schnurrbart murmured. Suddenly he turned on Kern. ‘It’s all your fault, you idiot!’ he burst out.

Kern looked guiltily into their outraged faces and did not answer.

‘Here comes Krüger,’ Hollerbach said. They looked toward the houses, where Krüger, Anselm and the male Russian prisoner had appeared. Each of them was leading a pair of small, rugged-looking ponies. Krüger waved to them, smiling.

‘We’ve got them,’ he called out cheerfully. ‘Now we can play cavalry.’ Seeing their grim faces, he turned to Anselm. ‘Tie up the ponies and put the prisoner into the house,’ he ordered. Then he strode swiftly toward the men. ‘What’s the matter, has something happened?’ he asked.

Hollerbach shrugged irritably. ‘And how,’ he said. ‘Steiner’s left.’

‘What do you mean left?’ Krüger demanded, his heart suddenly pounding.

‘Let him tell you,’ Hollerbach replied, nodding toward Schnurrbart who was staring blackly at the water.

Krüger whirled around. ‘What the devil is the matter? Come on, talk.’

‘Damn it all,’ Schnurrbart growled, ‘a man can’t weigh every word on a jeweller’s balance.’ He told Krüger what had happened.

He had barely finished, when Krüger turned upon Kern. ‘You bastard,’ he shouted. ‘Just wait till we-’

‘Cut it out,’ Hollerbach interrupted furiously. ‘You’ll do better to try and think what we’re going to do.’

There was an uneasy silence. Finally Schnurrbart said, shrugging: ‘There’s only one thing we can do: carry out Steiner’s plans. First we’ll dump the wagons into the water; then each of us will take a Russian tommy-gun and we’ll clear out. Maybe he’ll be waiting up ahead for us.’

'You don’t believe that yourself,’ Krüger growled. Again fury overpowered him. ‘If only you’d kept your silly mouth shut.’

Schnurrbart was on the point of retorting angrily. But he felt that Krüger was right, and on top of his awareness of having got the platoon into this predicament came the additional sense that all the responsibility for the safety of the group now rested upon him- Without another word he turned toward the wagon and began tossing boxes of ammunition into the water. For a while the others watched him labouring. Then Krüger cursed and unbuckled his belt. ‘Don’t stand there and gape,’ he burst out furiously, jumping up on the wagon. ‘We’re all going to croak anyhow.’ He stooped and picked up a heavy box. The others fell to and worked like madmen.

After crossing the bridge Steiner ran into the two sentries. When he heard his name called, his thoughts returned with difficulty to the present sunny April morning. He stood still and stared at Dietz, who was sauntering slowly toward him. ‘Anything new?’ Dietz asked. He gave Steiner a friendly, boyish smile. ‘Can’t you send us something to eat over here? We’re starved.’

Steiner hesitated. Now that his initial temper was gone, he felt uncertain of himself. Uncomfortably, he looked into the smiling face before him. ‘You’ll get something to eat soon,’ he answered roughly. ‘Schnurrbart will either send some stuff over here or have you relieved.’

‘Why Schnurrbart?’ asked Pasternack, joining them. ‘Aren’t you going back across?’

When Steiner did not reply, the two men looked worried. Dietz began nervously fingering the strap on his rifle. ‘Has something happened?’ he asked.

Steiner shook his head. He felt that it was impossible to tell the two of them that he was leaving the platoon. ‘I want to take a look around,’ he said. ‘Keep your eyes open.’

They still looked doubtful. ‘Did you see Kern?’ Pasternack asked.

Steiner nodded. There was a few seconds silence. Then Dietz inquired uneasily: ‘Did you hit him again?’

Steiner grinned. ‘No, why should I?’

‘That’s good,’ Dietz sighed with relief. ‘I’ve been thinking about him. You know, Kern isn’t a bad guy at all; he just isn’t used to the front yet.’

‘I agree.’ Steiner nodded. ‘Only I’m afraid he never will get used to it. He looks to me the kind of guy who feels like a man only when he’s on top of a woman.’ Seeing Dietz flush, he laughed and clapped him on the back. ‘You’re still a regular baby after all,’ he said.

‘Do you think we’ll get out of this with whole skins?’ Pasternack asked.

‘I hope so.’

'But the Russians are in Krymskaya now.’

Steiner looked down at the toes of his boots. The conversation made him uncomfortable; he was anxious to end it as quickly as possible. Impatiently, he shrugged. ‘We’ll just have to detour around the city. We’ve been through worse messes.’

‘You’ll get us out of this,’ Dietz said with eager agreement. ‘Nothing to it.’ There was such vast trustfulness in his voice that Steiner looked away in embarrassment. He turned sharply, made his way through the trees to the road and walked rapidly off into the woods. Dietz watched with admiration. Then he turned to Pasternack. ‘He’ll pull it off, I tell you; he’ll get us out of here.’ 

‘I know he will,’ Pasternack repeated. They went back to their places.

The further Steiner walked away from the bridge, the less firm his pace became. Dietz’s last words kept ringing in his ears. They were like elastic bands wound around his body and tied somewhere way back at the bridge. With every step forward their pull tautened; his legs began to feel as if he were up to his waist in a rushing stream and trying to advance against the current. Finally he came to a stop, turned round and looked back. It was utterly quiet. The road wound and twisted through the woods, flanked by dense undergrowth on both sides. Through the foliage overhead the sunlight speckled the floor of the forest. Steiner swallowed repeatedly. There was a hollowness in him that seemed to be spreading through his whole body, so that even his physical sensations were unreal. Wearily, he sat down at the foot of a tree, tucking the tommy-gun under his legs. He should have taken Dietz and Pasternack with him, he thought. But then he shook his head. You couldn’t compromise with your conscience. For a while his thoughts dwelt on Dietz. He had sometimes tried to analyse his feelings about the little fellow, but had never really got anywhere. Dietz was a plucky little jack-in-the-box with a faithful heart and the eyes of a good dog. With the best will in the world you could not see much more in him. And yet Steiner felt he would miss Dietz more than he would miss Schnurrbart and all the others. Queer. Maybe that was it; maybe the little fellow uncovered a hidden streak of queerness in himself. The idea troubled him. He closed his eyes and thought it over. But as soon as he started to visualize the thing, he grinned scornfully. No, that was out of the question. He knew himself too well not to mistake his own feelings about such filth. Mad even to think of it.