The Cross of Iron (48 page)

Steiner stood for a few seconds watching the planes dive vertically and release their bombs. The sight gave him grim pleasure, and he clenched his fists. For Meyer, he thought, for Meyer and Pasternack and Dorn and all the others lying dead up there.

A loud voice reached his ear. As he turned his head he saw Krüger striding toward him. ‘What’s up?’ the East Prussian asked.

‘Shit.’ Steiner growled, and ordered Krüger to assemble all the NCO’s. When they were gathered around him, he explained what they were to do and began dividing up tasks among the various platoons. Then he turned to Krüger, who stood gloomily plucking at his nose, and said: ‘You stay near me. You and Hollerbach and Kern and Faber.’

‘The bastards,’ Krüger cursed fiercely. ‘They don’t give a man ten minutes rest.’

‘When you’ve got six feet of ground over you you’ll have more rest than you like,’ Steiner said mirthlessly.

He looked over the group of about a hundred men. They were holding their weapons, and intent on the signal from him. Raising his hand, he started up the slope. As the hum of aeroplane engines faded away in the west, the men spread out in a skirmishing line and followed the point group up the hill over the shell-torn terrain. Not a shot had been fired yet. Steiner walked with bowed head, wondering what they would do if a Russian tank turned up. Although most of the tanks were undoubtedly somewhere beyond Kanskoye, raising cain in that area, there might still be a few stragglers on the hill. Even one would be enough. Steiner had no illusions about that; he knew that the men, exhausted as they were and with their morale at zero, would run back in wild flight at the first sound of motors.

As he circuited a large crater, Hollerbach came over to him. He had evidently been considering the same question. ‘What are you going to do if tanks come?’ he asked, with a testy note of challenge in his voice.

Steiner shrugged indifferently. ‘How do I know?’

The hill was steep, and they panted with the climb, but the top was now slowly drawing nearer. Steiner glanced back to reassure himself that the men were following, and for a moment he felt a grim satisfaction and pride that he was leading the whole battalion. Then he grinned ironically. He had no more than half a company there behind him. For a few seconds he thought of Stransky; it should have been the captain who was heading the line, not some low-down platoon leader. Remembering their talks, he smiled cynically. The conceit of the bastard, he thought with infinite contempt. The hill was flattening out and they could already see part of their old positions, which ran along the hill on the left. Nowhere was there any sign of life. It looked as if the Russians had long ago advanced behind the hill, further to the west. There was hardly any incline now, and they speeded up.

‘They’ll start shooting in a minute,’ Krüger panted. As though set off by his words, violent sounds of skirmishing suddenly broke out far ahead of them. They stood still and looked around. The scorched earth, still covered by swaths of smoke in many places, seemed to stretch on all the way to the horizon, where several white flares were now rising.

‘That’s the Third,’ Steiner said. And in answer to Krüger’s uncomprehending look he explained: ‘The 3rd Battalion is attacking from the other side of the hill. We must send up flares.’ He took the pistol from Faber’s hand and shot up two flares in succession. Looking back, he saw far below the orchard where the command post was situated. Behind stretched the long ridge on whose other side the regimental command post must lie. The sky was quite cloudless; visibility was splendid back that way.

The noise of fighting to the north increased. Most of the men had dropped into shell-holes, their steel helmets protruding above the ground like huge dark mushrooms. ‘What are we waiting for?’ Krüger asked, looking down uncomfortably at the barren moonscape beneath their feet.

Kern was sitting on the ground, his legs dangling over the edge of a bomb crater. Faber, crouching somewhat, was standing beside Hollerbach, leaning on the machine-gun.

‘Why the hell should we pull the others’ chestnuts out of the fire,’ Kern growled. ‘What’s the sense of rushing on.’ He turned to Steiner. ‘We’ve reached the top; we can wait here until the men of the Third get to us. ’

There was something tempting about the proposal. The men looked at one another significantly. ‘If we go on,’ Hollerbach said, ‘they’re going to see us from the woods, and then there’ll be hell to pay. ’

Steiner turned his head indecisively. Kern kept close watch on him. He had made up his mind to disappear into a shell-hole at the first shot and wait until the fighting was over. He’d had more than enough for the day; a man should not push his luck too long.

‘I tell you what,’ he went on when the others remained silent. ‘It seems to me we’ve carried out our orders, and now they can just stick it, the goddamned idiots. What the hell do they think they’re doing, sending us against tanks without anti-tank guns.’ Faber, listening in silence, had been watching two of 1st Company’s NCO’s. They were sitting about a dozen paces away, taking in the whole incident. He suddenly had the uncomfortable feeling that they were amused by Steiner’s indecision. He thumbed his steel helmet back on his head. ‘I think we’d better go on,’ he said quietly, indicating with a half-gesture the sounds of battle. ‘We’ve got to help them, and those are our orders. ’

Steiner frowned. ‘You don’t have to tell me what our orders are,’ he said hoarsely. ‘Are we on top of the hill or aren’t we?’ 

‘We aren’t,’ Faber replied firmly, and Steiner thought he detected a trace of disdain in the woodsman’s blue eyes. He opened his mouth for a retort. But then he set his lips, turned his back on Faber and started forward, making huge strides, toward the sounds of fighting. Faber and Hollerbach followed him at once; Krüger remained standing, looking after them with annoyance. But when he saw the other men clambering out of their holes, he turned to Kern. ‘Let’s go. ’

‘I’ll be along,’ Kern growled, not stirring.

Krüger took a step closer and glared down at him. ‘Aiming to be a slacker, eh? ’

‘None of your business,’ Kern replied rebelliously. But he picked himself up, pounded the dust from his trousers and cursed furiously. ‘Trouble with you bastards is, you can’t wait till you’re dead,’ he wound up grimly.

‘I’ll be glad to have it over with,’ Krüger said.

They joined a group of men who were moving forward slowly, crouching low. Kern’s rage evaporated. His face had grown grey with fear, but he kept close beside Krüger, who moved along with bowed head as though nothing mattered. They advanced several hundred yards. With growing alarm Kern noted that with every step the horizon around them moved back several kilometres. He did not dare to turn his head because he knew that they were now visible from the edge of the woods, where the Russians had their artillery emplaced. For a while he clung to the desperate hope that the Russian artillery observers would, from the distance, be unable to distinguish the German infantry from their own men. But he felt like a man walking naked in front of a crowd. Although there were several dozen others all around him, it was as if he were entirely alone, a solitary target for the Russians. Suddenly he stopped dead. In the distance a series of dull explosions sounded; instinctively he bent his back. Then there was a howl over their heads, dark mushrooms of smoke burst up out of the earth, and they lay pressed against the ground with their eyes closed in terror. Steiner dived into a crater beside Hollerbach. It seemed likely that they were in for a long and systematic shelling. Suddenly he recalled that Fetscher had once insisted that shells never struck twice in the same place. Nonsense. But then he began listening alertly. As suddenly as it had begun, the shelling stopped. It took Steiner a while to credit it. Still sceptical, not trusting the quiet, he clambered out of the hole. But when nothing happened, he tore into action. Even before the thick veil of dust and smoke could disperse, he shouted to the men at the top of his voice. Seconds later they were running after him, taking grotesque leaps over obstacles.

The encounter with the Russians was a surprise to both sides. Unexpectedly, the ground suddenly sloped off to the north, and as Steiner and his men reached the top of the hill, they stood still for a few seconds, staring at the scene before them. The steep slope below them was, like all the rest of the terrain, pocked with innumerable shell-holes. Almost all of these were occupied by Russians. They lay side by side, firing steadily at some invisible enemy further down the slope below them. The sight of those backs turned unsuspectingly toward the top of the hill was so utterly fantastic against the vaporous background that the men were momentarily stunned. They stood in a long chain on the edge of the incline, utterly motionless. Then, out of the corners of his eyes Steiner observed Faber setting up the heavy MG with almost reverential care. He crouched down behind it. The others came to life also. When Steiner raised his fist into the air, a deafening roar of concentrated rifle and machine-gun fire rolled like an avalanche, down the slope. Steiner had time to notice the Russians turn around in their holes and throw agonized glances up the slope, while below them a white flare rose triumphantly. While he blindly emptied his magazine he felt an intoxicating, nameless gratification that made him forget to take cover. When the painful blow twisted his body around in a quarter turn, he did not become aware of its meaning until the sub-machine-gun dropped from his hands and a cry of alarm reached his ears. He staggered back, sank to his knees with face contorted by pain, and grasped his right shoulder. Krüger was at his side in a moment. Anxiously, he bent over Steiner and shouted something which was lost in the din of the firing. Hollerbach and Kern came rushing over. They carried him back several dozen yards and laid him on the ground with infinite care. ‘Is it bad?’ Krüger asked worriedly. Steiner shook his head. He felt the need to reassure them. ‘Flesh wound or something,’ he said tightly, looking at his shoulder, where his tunic was gradually darkening. The pain was bearable, but he had a queerly numbed feeling in the whole top part of his body.

Up ahead the men of the battalion had vanished as though a sudden gust of wind had blown them down the slope. He recalled that it was his duty to lead the attack. But before he could say anything, loud shouts, then cheers came from down below. ‘Got them,’ Krüger exclaimed. He raced ahead to the spot where Faber was still lying behind his MG, and peered down the slope. ‘They’ve met the Third,’ he shouted back. ‘You ought to see the Ivans with their hands up.’ After a while he returned. ‘We’ll have you at a dressing station in a shot,’ he said to Steiner. ‘But first let’s see what you’ve got. ’

Carefully, they removed the tunic and cut open the blood-soaked shirt. ‘Shoulder wound,’ Krüger delivered his verdict. ‘The bullet must still be in there. Let’s hope it didn’t touch the bone.’

They put an emergency bandage on the rapidly bleeding wound. Steiner’s face was grey, but he was able to stand on his feet fairly well. While Krüger and Kern supported him on both sides, Holler-back picked up his light assault pack, slung the Russian tommy-gun over his shoulder and followed them. Since they did not want to go back by the exposed route over the hill, they cautiously descended the slope where the men had their hands full gathering in the prisoners. Within a few minutes they reached the 3rd Battalion’s command post. Only then did they notice that Faber had trailed along with them.

Krüger turned to one of the men hastening past and found out that the dressing station was in a hollow a few hundred yards further to the west. As they walked on, Steiner reflected with satisfaction that the counter-attack had been a complete success. They could set up the switch position now and wait quietly for the assault regiment to arrive. He felt somewhat better; aside from the dull throbbing in his shoulder, he was all right. The terrain before them began to drop. Shortly afterwards they came upon the dressing station bunker, hidden in the midst of dense shrubbery. Several men with minor wounds, wearing white bandages on their heads or arms, were standing or sitting around.

Steiner’s shoulder was freshly bandaged. The doctor advised him to wait here until darkness, since it was inadvisable to take the risk of going on to the clearing station while Russian tanks were prowling around. ‘I’ll just give you an injection,’ he said, ‘and you can go back tonight with our supply truck. They’ve established the clearing station in Kanskoye for the past hour.’ Steiner hesitated. Then he shook his head. ‘I’d rather get started right away,’ he said. ‘I can manage the walk to Kanskoye.’ 

‘You’ll have to go over the hill,’ the doctor warned.

‘I know. But I’ll try it over to this side, and further to the rear.’ 

‘As you like. You need only follow the brook till it turns north, and then go straight over the hill. You can’t miss the way.’ He nodded and returned to the bunker.

Steiner turned to his men, who were standing gloomily around, looking down at the floor.

‘I’ll be back soon,’ he assured them. ‘Don’t put on such expressions. You’re really glad to be rid of me! ’

‘Who’s glad?’ Krüger demanded loudly, plucking furiously at his nose.

Steiner grinned. ‘You more than anybody.’

Krüger gasped angrily and shouted: ‘Me!’

‘Yes.’

‘Take it easy,’ Hollerbach advised. But Krüger was working himself up into a rage. ‘You know what you can do for me?’ he bellowed still louder.

Steiner nodded. ‘You’d love it, wouldn’t you?’ he said amiably.

Hissing between his teeth, Krüger turned and stalked away past the medical bunker. He disappeared in the bushes.

‘You shouldn’t have said that,’ Hollerbach reproached him.

‘Rot,’ Steiner replied, himself a bit irritated. ‘He’s as thin-skinned as a girl, but in five minutes he forgets all about it.’ He turned to Faber, who was standing, silent and grave, beside them. ‘If I get back to Freiburg,’ he said to him, ‘I can look up your family. Shall I? ’

‘They’d be glad,’ Faber replied. ‘Tell them not to worry about me. And if you see Barbara, say hello to her for me. ’