The Cross of Iron (42 page)

Steiner closed his eyes for a moment. He had reckoned on this eventuality, but it was coming sooner than he had expected. Stransky works fast, he thought, his mouth twisting in contempt. He answered frigidly: ‘It’s true.’

Meyer nodded. ‘And why were you degraded?’

‘I assume you already know,’ Steiner replied calmly.

Meyer nodded again. His face hardened. ‘I’ve heard one side of the story; now I’d like to hear the other. You see, I hope you have something to say about it.’ As he spoke these last words, his voice took on a tone of command.

Steiner frowned. ‘I see no reason to,’ he declared icily. ‘I owe explanations to no one, including my company commander.’ Meyer started back. ‘Do you mean that, Steiner?’

‘I damn well do, if you want to know.’ His voice sounded ruthless and unyielding. They stared at one another for a few seconds. Then Meyer turned away without a word and strode off. Steiner stood motionless, his Up drawn back, chuckling scornfully into the darkness. Idiot, he thought contemptuously, you damned idiot. After a while he began to whistle softly. He felt a grim amusement that extended into his fingertips and produced a whirling sensation in his head, as though he had been drinking. Pilsner, he thought with a spasm of sickly laughter. Suddenly the chatter of a Russian submachine-gun burst out of the night, and the bullets whistled so close over his head that he involuntarily dropped to his knees, cursing wildly. But his fright lasted only for a second. Then he rushed with huge bounds to the next MG emplacement, squeezed in through the shaft and in the darkness bumped into a man who was trying to get into the trench. He recognized Maag’s voice and clutched his shoulder. ‘Where to?’ He had to shout to make himself heard.

‘To fetch reinforcements,’ Maag stammered, unhinged by the sudden encounter.

‘Leaving your post for that?’ Steiner bellowed angrily, pushing Maag before him back into the hole. As he felt for the MG in the darkness, he went on berating Maag.

He peered through the loophole. The Russian fire had stopped. A few shells whined through the air and exploded nearby. ‘I wish I knew-’ Steiner murmured. He interrupted himself, turned to Maag and snapped: ‘Where is the flare gun?’

‘Here.’ Maag handed it to him. As Steiner fired a flare through the loophole, there was a rattling against the metal of the MG and the hideous noise of ricocheting bullets buzzed around their heads as though they had stumbled into a beehive. ‘They must be right in front of us,’ Maag gasped. ‘ In the shell holes down there.’

Steiner recalled that there were a number of big craters on the slope below the MG emplacement; Maag’s guess must be right. ‘Go get the other fellows,’ he ordered. The firing had diminished somewhat in the past few seconds, and Steiner considered what to do. Before he could take any action he would have to inform Meyer, although the thought of doing so, so soon after their interview was distasteful. The arrival of the other men turned his thoughts in a different direction. Schnurrbart squeezed into the emplacement first. ‘Nice evening, everybody,’ he said cheerfully. ‘I’ll take bullet stew, if you please. Where’s the field kitchen?’

Steiner waited until Krüger and Hollerbach had come in. Then he briefed them on the situation. ‘We’ve got to get them out of there,’ he said. ‘They could be on top of us before we started shooting. We’ll have to-’ He broke off. From the entrance came Meyer’s incisive voice. The lieutenant squeezed into the hole and went up to him. ‘What’s happening?’ he asked.

In silence he listened to the report. When Steiner finished he stood frowning for a few seconds. Then he raised his head. ‘Signal for a barrage,’ he ordered. ‘I’ll inform the commander.’ He hurried out. Steiner picked up the flare gun again, took the cartridges that Maag handed him, and followed the company commander out into the trench. He sent up the first flare, and then the second. Watching as they burst in the air, shedding red and green light as they sank to earth, he hoped the artillery observers would see what they illuminated. In his mind he followed the action a few kilometres back of the lines as the men rushed to their guns and began loading the big shells. He waited with bated breath. Minutes later, just as he heard hasty footsteps and the figure of Meyer reappeared, a hollow roaring sounded above their heads, swelling rapidly to a mighty moan. A moment later the heavy detonations came. Steiner followed the lieutenant into the MG emplacement, where the men were waiting impatiently. ‘Commander’s order,’ Meyer said. ‘The 2nd Platoon is to undertake a counter-attack at once. You are to occupy the craters and take as many prisoners as possible.’ He turned to Steiner. ‘You will command. How are you going to proceed?’

Steiner considered briefly. ‘We’ll attack from three sides: Krüger from the west, Schnurrbart from the east and myself from the south.’ He outlined his plan hastily. ‘When the firing starts we’ll need artillery support. But only on the Russian positions at the edge of the woods. That’s all.’

Meyer nodded. ‘Good in theory; let’s hope it works out in practice.’

Steiner ordered the men to get ready. Before he left the MG emplacement, he turned to Meyer again. ‘Who will take over our positions?’

‘The 1st Platoon. I’ve already given the order. One moment, Steiner.’ He waited until the other men were out and came up close to Steiner. ‘I wish you all the luck in the world in this business,’ he said hesitantly. ‘But before you go I must tell you that it is often hard to understand you.’

‘That may be,’ Steiner replied. ‘That may be.’ He followed the men. The artillery fire had ceased. The air was saturated with the smell of burnt powder. As he walked down the trench, he felt his heart beating faster. In his bunker he hooked four reserve clips to his belt, exchanged a few words with Faber, and urged the men to hurry. Shortly afterwards the platoon was ready to go. There was an air of nervous tension about them all. The clatter of weapons persisted, and Steiner had to remind them several times to tone it down. Now and then a Russian sub-machine-gun hammered away, and the bullets whipped harmlessly over their heads. Krüger grimaced discontentedly. ‘Haven’t you got anything better for me to do? That’s a mad job to lie out on the slope and do nothing.’

‘Be nice if that were all,’ Steiner said. ‘When Schnurrbart attacks and I turn up in their rear, the Russians will only be able to retreat to the east. You’ll probably find all hell letting loose in your direction before it’s over.’ He turned to Schnurrbart, who had come up behind him. ‘All clear?’ Schnurrbart nodded. From somewhere Meyer’s muted voice could be heard. ‘Let’s go,’ Steiner said. He waited until Krüger’s voice disappeared in the darkness. Then he raised his arm. The rest of the men followed him. He led them about a hundred yards westward down the communication trench. From there they cautiously descended the slope. When they reached the level field, he gave them final instructions. ‘You wait here,’ he said to Schnurrbart. ‘Attack in exactly five minutes. As soon as the first shots are fired, we’ll come in. Clear?’

‘All clear,’ Schnurrbart growled, shaking hands with him. 

‘Good luck.’ After taking leave of Hollerbach also, Steiner led his men across no-man’s-land in a south-easterly direction. Schnurrbart watched them go. Then he turned to the others in his group. ‘Stick close together and don’t save on hand grenades. Remember, the eyes of the entire German nation are upon you.’ 

The men chuckled low, and one of them said: ‘Shit.’ 

Schnurrbart looked at him. The man had come in the last group of replacements—a pale eighteen-year-old. ‘Sorry, pal,’ Schnurrbart said, ‘you can’t now. You probably will anyway when the shooting starts.’

‘I don’t see why we should start the thing,’ another spoke up. ‘I say we ought to wait here until the sergeant gets to the Russians.’ 

Schnurrbart whirled around. ‘You shut your trap, my boy. Any more of that silly stuff and you’ll be sorry.’

‘We weren’t born yesterday,’ the man replied rebelliously. 

‘Day before yesterday, I guess,’ Schnurrbart said, looking at his watch.

‘It ought to be time,’ Hollerbach said. Schnurrbart put the watch back into his pocket. ‘One minute more.’ He turned his head in the direction in which Steiner had disappeared. Suddenly his eyes widened. He raised his arm. ‘Someone’s coming,’ Hollerbach breathed. In spite of the starlit sky there was almost impenetrable darkness here at the foot of the hill, but they thought they could make out dark shadows slowly moving toward them. The men dropped soundlessly to the ground, pushed the steel helmets back from their foreheads and scarcely dared to breathe. The shadows took on visible forms, and now they also heard the harsh tingle of arms. They pressed flat against the ground and settled the butts of their rifles against their shoulders.

Steiner and his men had marched toward the clump of woods. They were coming close to the Russian assault trench when Steiner suddenly dropped to the ground. To one side of them, marching from the south in a north-easterly direction, appeared a long row of dim forms moving cautiously through the darkness. Steiner realized that if they continued in the same direction they would pass by only a dozen paces away. He hastily began crawling along the ground. His men did likewise. They covered a considerable distance, until the Russians were out of sight; then they sat up and stared back. ‘How many do you think there were?’ Steiner whispered.

‘Hard to say,’ Faber answered. ‘I would guess a hundred.’

‘They’re going to run smack into Schnurrbart.’

Faber nodded. ‘What should we do?’ he whispered.

Steiner hesitated. They were really in a jam. On the one side was the woods, the outlines of the trees vaguely visible in the darkness, and on the other side the Russians—so large a force that if they encountered Schnurrbart they would roll right over his dozen men. Schnurrbart ought to be warned. But firing prematurely would endanger the whole counter-attack. Agonized by the urgency of a decision, he clenched his teeth and felt the sweat start on his forehead. Behind him he heard Kern’s voice murmuring words he could not make out. The others were standing motionless, staring tensely toward the north, where fighting would surely flare up any moment. Steiner started forward. But at that moment an inferno broke loose back toward the German trenches. Steiner threw a hurried glance toward the edge of the woods, then back at the spot where a few carbine shots were almost drowned by the hammering of several dozen sub-machine-guns. Then he started to run. They raced back the way they had come. Abruptly light flooded the area. Above the battalion’s positions, five or six flares rose simultaneously. The air was suddenly filled with loud shouts and the crackle of rifle fire. They’ve broken in, Steiner thought in dread, they’ve broken into the trenches. Abruptly, he stood still. A howling roar swelled above their heads. They dropped flat, pressed their faces into their arms. Then they realized that it was their own artillery firing upon the edge of the woods. They sprang to their feet and ran on. Steiner’s thoughts were a turmoil. When from a distance he saw several dark bundles on the ground, he turned aside from the direction in which he had been running and ran straight up the slope. In the trench they came upon the Russians. The platoon had the advantage of surprise on their side, and a dozen well-aimed hand grenades created wild confusion among the Russians who had broken through. Faber settled behind the MG and began firing. But the Russians adjusted to the new situation with amazing speed. Their resistance stiffened. Then Steiner saw two of his men rolling down the slope like wooden dummies. He decided to break off the unequal combat. But at that critical moment they received unexpected aid.

Krüger had reached the assigned spot with his group. They crouched on the ground and talked in whispers. ‘The plan is cockeyed,’ Maag said crossly, tugging nervously at the strap of his sub-machine-gun. Pasternack disagreed. ‘Why? Seems good to me. It’ll give those Russians a turn when we suddenly start firing on them from the rear. They won’t be counting on that.’

They looked over at Krüger, who was peering alertly into the darkness. ‘What do you think?’ Maag asked. The East Prussian shrugged. ‘Wait and drink tea. Anyway, you’d better keep your traps shut and your ears open. It’s going to start in a minute.’

‘Let it,’ Maag growled, trying to appear superior.

Krüger glanced impatiently at his wrist-watch. ‘I don’t want any of you shooting up the air,’ he said to the replacements. ‘When the Ivans start coming, I’ll fire a flare and you can pick them off at leisure.’

There was an uncomfortable silence. He looked at his watch again. His uneasiness was infectious, and several of the men stood up. He was about to snap at them when there was an outbreak of furious rifle fire. ‘Here it goes,’ Maag whispered excitedly. Krüger sprang to his feet and stared in dismay at the trenches, which were suddenly bathed in light. ‘They’re crazy,’ he exclaimed. ‘What are they shooting flares for?’

‘Giving it all away,’ Maag stammered. Krüger raised his hand for quiet and listened. But then the artillery barrage began, and the mighty explosions drowned the noise of rifles and tommy-guns. ‘Something’s up over there,’ Maag shouted through the noise. ‘Those were Russian guns.’

Krüger thought feverishly. If the counter-attack was going wrong, as seemed to be the case, they would be needed. For a moment he was sorely tempted to stick by Steiner’s order. He could stay right here and let the other fight, whatever it was, go on without him. Then he thought of Schnurrbart. He suddenly felt that everything up there in the trenches was hanging by a thread. Choking with a sudden onset of apprehension, he shouted orders. The men obeyed reluctantly, holding their guns ready to fire. They began advancing toward the shell-holes. Flares were still rising steadily from the trenches, throwing dancing shadows over the bare terrain, chiselling details out of the darkness with merciless clarity. They had come within thirty paces of the shell-holes when a hail of rifle fire roared at them. Krüger had a chance to see Pasternack sink to his knees with a groan, and another man reach into the air with both hands as if trying to grasp some invisible object, then whirl round and round and topple heavily to the ground. Then he raced forward with huge strides, hurled one, two hand grenades at several heads which showed just above the ground, as though their owners were buried there up to the neck. He scarcely waited for the thunderous detonations to reach their end; seconds later he jumped with both feet at once into a deep hole. He stumbled over a twitching body, fell, rolled over on his back and raised his tommy-gun. He saw the stooped backs of two Russians disappearing over the edge of the crater, heard the lash of several rifle shots, then there was silence. As he staggered up he heard Maag shouting his name. He tried to answer, but his voice would not obey him, and instead he clambered out of the hole. The men were standing in a knot a few yards away. Seeing him, they haltingly approached. ‘Where are the rest?’ he asked hoarsely. Maag gestured silently over his shoulder. His right arm was dangling stiffly, and Krüger asked him: ‘What’s the matter with you?’