The Cross of Iron (67 page)

In the beam of the headlights several houses flew past, the shadowy outlines of a railroad yard, tall poles, tracks. The road spiralled up a steep slope that seemed to go on forever. Brandt asked: ‘How far to go yet?’

‘Ten minutes,’ Kiesel replied, consulting the illuminated dial of his wrist-watch. They seemed to have reached the top of the climb now. The road ran on almost in a straight line along the barren ridge of a series of hills. A few miles further on it turned toward the north and dropped precipitately into a narrow valley, in whose lap stood a small cluster of buildings. ‘We’re there,’ Kiesel said, pointing to the houses.

The driver steered the car around a last curve and braked sharply in front of a longish building. The door of the building was flung open and a man came running toward the car. Kiesel recognized him as Lieutenant Mohr, the regimental communications officer. ‘What’s the news?’ Brandt asked as he stepped out of the car.

‘The general has already called you three times,’ Mohr hastened to report.

‘I’m not a magician,’ Brandt grumbled. ‘Did he want anything special?’

‘I don’t think so, sir. He asked how things were going. I told him that the withdrawal had all gone according to plan so far, the battalions were on the way to their new positions.’

‘And Gollhofer?’ Brandt asked with apparent casualness. Kiesel waited tensely. Mohr gave his news: ‘Gollhofer’s already on his way, with the second company. Radio message from him just ten minutes ago.’

‘What’s that you say, man!’ Brandt exclaimed loudly, snatching the sheet of paper with the report from his hand. There was already enough daylight for him to read the hastily scribbled notation. He read it through twice. Then he turned to Kiesel. ‘What do you say to that?’ he exploded, and suddenly burst into cheerful laughter. He crumpled the paper in his clenched fist and thrust it into his pocket. ‘You’re a damned gloomy raven,’ he said to Kiesel. ‘I hope you’ll admit it.’ Disregarding Kiesel’s blank expression, he asked Mohr: ‘Where do I hang my hat?’

Mohr gestured toward the door. ‘Here sir. There’s someone waiting to see you already.’

‘Who?’ Brandt asked.

‘A Captain Killius,’ Mohr replied. ‘He’s come direct from the High Command and says he’s to replace a battalion commander; the name of the man he replaces is in a letter which he wants to hand to you personally *

Brandt exchanged a brief glance with Kiesel. Then he followed the lieutenant. As he entered the room which was now his new headquarters, a stocky figure rose from a chair. ‘Captain Killius,’ the man said, clicking his heels. ‘I...’ But Brandt cut him off with a brusque gesture. ‘I’ve heard,’ he said curtly. ‘You have orders for me?’

Plainly depressed by this frosty reception, the captain laid a sealed envelope on the table. ‘I have, sir,’ he said stiffly. While the commander tore open the letter, Kiesel watched his face; it had suddenly lost all expression and looked like a whitewashed wall. For a while Brandt stood staring over the head of the officer. Then he quietly asked Kiesel: ‘Didn’t you once mention Captain Stransky’s good connections?’

Kiesel nodded. ‘There is a Major-General Stransky, attached to Army High Command, South. He is, I believe, a cousin of Captain Stransky.’

‘I see,’ Brandt said slowly. Grimacing, he tossed the letter on the table. ‘You can guess what that is, can’t you?’ he said, indicating the letter as if it were some offensive filth.

‘His transfer, of course,’ Kiesel replied calmly.

‘Exactly,’ Brandt said grimly. ‘Herr Stransky is to report to the staff of a battalion in Paris within a week. I believe it is the very assignment he held before he came out here to us.’

There was a brief silence in the room. Lieutenant Mohr made bold to murmur: ‘Miracles still happen.’

‘You may be right about that,’ Brandt growled. ‘But the miracle is going to be a bit different from the kind Herr Stransky expects.’ He turned to Killius, who had been attending to the conversation in a total fog. ‘I’m happy to welcome you among us,’ he said cordially, shaking the new man’s hand. ‘Things are rather hectic at the moment and I must ask you to bear with us. Let me introduce you to everybody. Oh yes, you already know Lieutenant Mohr.’ Kiesel was obliged to smile at his superior’s sudden shifts of mood.

The telephone shrilled. ‘That must be the general,’ Mohr said. His guess was apparently right. When Brandt hung up, after a brief conversation, his expression had become very grave. ‘We’re staying here only till tonight,’ he said to the officers. ‘A courier is on the way with important orders. Let’s get to work, gentlemen.’

IN THE CELLAR nothing had changed. The men perched idly on the boxes, smoking and talking in muted tones. Their spirits were at low ebb, their faces sallow under the steel helmets. Steiner, too, was sitting on a box, head drooping, eyes empty.

Krüger muttered a curse. He dropped his cigarette to the floor and ground it out. ‘We have to do something,’ he said loudly. ‘This business of sitting around gets on my nerves. Just look at the silly faces on all these mutts.’

He had spoken to Faber, who hunched his shoulders indifferently. ‘What do you want to do?’ he asked quietly. ‘We just have to wait until they come for us.’

‘Until they come!’ Krüger laughed wildly. ‘By the time they come they can scrape us off the walls.’ He strode over to the radio men’s corner. ‘Nothing new yet?’ he asked.

One of the men shook his head. ‘They signalled QRX 30,’ he said. ‘They’re moving to new positions and we’re to wait thirty minutes. There are still ten minutes to go.’

‘They’ve cleaned out on us,’ Krüger said. ‘That’s what they’ve done. They’ve given us up, the bastards, that’s all.’ His loud voice disturbed the trance of the other men. Schulz and several others trotted up to him. ‘What’s happened?’ Schulz exclaimed.

‘Don’t ask such stupid questions,’ Krüger replied violently. ‘How much longer are we going to sit around on our arses? Any of you think they’re going to dig us out? You can wait till you’re blue in the face, I tell you.’

He had only put their own fears into words. Schulz nodded emphatically. ‘I think so too,’ he declared hoarsely. ‘We’re wasting precious time. As it is I don’t understand why the Russians haven’t come yet.’

‘You mayn’t, but I do,’ Krüger snorted. ‘They’d be idiots to run head-on up against our machine-guns. They know they can have us cheaper. All they have to do is wait till we’ve got nothing to eat, and we’ll come crawling right up to them, wagging our tails.’

‘Right.’ Schulz turned round and looked toward Steiner who still sat in the same attitude.

‘Let him alone,’ said Krüger, guessing Schulz’s thoughts. ‘Let him alone, I tell you.’ He lowered his voice. ‘You don’t understand that.’ He stretched and said in a loud voice: ‘Left or right?’ 

Schulz grasped his meaning at once. He swung round and indicated the door on the right. ‘There, I’d say. Maybe we can get back up through the lift shaft.’

Although most of the others looked sceptical, Krüger took up the plan. ‘We’ll block up the door with boxes,’ he declared. ‘That way we have our rear protected and don’t have to leave anyone here.’

Schulz nodded. Glad to throw off the crushing burden of inactivity, the men set to work. The machine-gunners were pulled back, the door locked, and they piled a dozen of the heavy crates in front of it. Another dozen were stacked behind the first row, so that the entire doorway from floor to ceiling was shielded by their immovable mass. ‘That ought to do it,’ Krüger panted, studying their work with satisfaction. He went slowly over to Steiner and announced: ‘We’re going to try to break out.’

‘All right,’ Steiner said without raising his head. Krüger squinted down at him, his face drawn. Something was impeding his tongue so that he could hardly talk. ‘Perhaps we can get up through the lift shaft,’ he managed to say. Turning his head, he observed that the men were all standing impatiently behind him. ‘Once we’re in the hall,’ he said in a somewhat louder voice, ‘we’re as good as away.’

Steiner stood up heavily. ‘Take Schnurrbart along,’ he said. As Krüger looked into his eyes, a shudder passed through him. He turned to two of the men and ordered them to carry Schnurrbart’s body. Then he followed Steiner toward the barricade at the other end of the corridor. They moved the boxes aside to make a small opening through which they could crawl, and cautiously went on toward the next door. Schulz suddenly recalled the men whom Triebig had locked out. In a whisper he told Krüger about it. ‘Damn dirty trick it was, but I couldn’t do anything.’

‘He’s had his,’ Krüger said. They watched Steiner move the bolt back. ‘Lights out!’ Schulz whispered. Instantly all the men switched off their flashlights. Up ahead the darkness was impenetrable. A faint creaking indicated that Steiner had opened the door. At the same time they felt a fresh stream of air against their faces; it was like something from another world. In the intensity of his excitement Krüger bit his lips until they bled. There’s no chance of it, he thought. If we... He recoiled in fright as someone touched his chest. Then he heard Steiner’s voice right in front of him: ‘Leave your lights out. Where is Schulz?’

‘Here,’ the Sergeant breathed.

‘Come along,’ Steiner whispered, and Schulz felt a hand taking his arm. They tiptoed down the corridor, feeling their way along the walls, until they reached a door. Schulz whispered: ‘That’s a cellar room. The door we want is on the other side, and then the corridor runs left to the elevator.’

‘Let’s go,’ Steiner whispered.

The nails of their boots scraped on the stone floor. At last they came up against a wall. After some searching they found the door. ‘Get the others,’ Steiner said. He turned to the left. A few yards farther on he stumbled on a body that lay across his path. He stepped over it. The current of fresh air was even stronger here. Steiner straightened up somewhat from his hunched position. The last few yards he walked erect until his foot encountered something hard. It was a step. His hands groped over the two leaves of an open door, and he reasoned that this must be the elevator shaft. For a moment he hesitated. But since he could not hear a sound anywhere, he took the risk and switched on his flashlight. The bright beam revealed the crumpled bodies of about a dozen men who lay piled one on top of the other, their faces horrible to behold, blocking the entrance. There was a noise behind him. Steiner turned and saw the rest of the men. ‘What is it?’ Schulz whispered. Then he caught sight of the bodies and his mouth twisted in sick horror. ‘Upstairs there will be worse sights,’ he said.

Krüger joined them. ‘How do you make it out?’ he asked. Since Steiner gave no reply, Schulz asked: ‘What?’

‘That the Russians haven’t let out a sound,’ Krüger answered impatiently. ‘Good Lord, they must be hiding somewhere.’ 

Schulz shifted uneasily, ‘It’s funny,’ he remarked. ‘And what the hell’s happened to the others?’

‘What others?’

‘The ones Triebig locked out.’

‘Shit,’ Krüger whispered. They fell silent. Krüger pressed his fist against his right knee which was suddenly beginning to quiver like a gear shift. His reason rebelled against the unreality of the situation. He felt the sweat starting on his forehead. The men remained motionless, watching Steiner. Steiner switched off his flashlight, clambered over the dead bodies and groped for the ladder. Slowly he pulled himself up, rung by rung. He reached the first floor. On his left he saw the rectangle of the doorway shimmering dimly, and for a few seconds he hung on the ladder, peering incredulously. Then he carefully moved his leg sideways until his foot found support, and swung over into the opening. Before him lay the machinery hall, dark, silent and lifeless. Through the high windows dull light trickled down upon the machines which filled the room like petrified primordial monsters. For no reason he had a feeling amounting to certainty that there were no longer any Russians inside the room. Carelessly, he walked forward several yards and looked around. Then he returned to the shaft and called to the men to come up. Krüger appeared first. He thrust his powerful frame through the doorway and stopped in amazement. Behind him came Schulz, and then the others followed one by one, pushing each other ahead impatiently, and equally incredulous as they saw the empty hall.

‘What the hell does it mean?’ one of them said.

‘They must be waiting for us outside the windows,’ Schulz said hoarsely. ‘It’s a trick, that’s all.’

‘It is,’ another man whispered. ‘They can’t have run away.’ 

Krüger shook his head impatiently. ‘Don’t wear your brains out thinking,’ he snapped morosely. He turned to Steiner. ‘Now what?’

Steiner looked around. ‘Where were the wounded placed?’ 

‘Over there,’ Schulz said, pointing to a spot between two machines. Steiner walked toward the area, until his foot encountered something soft. He switched on the flashlight and stood rooted to the spot. Behind him a suppressed groan arose. Krüger whispered: ‘My God!’ the men lay scattered over the floor like lumps of raw meat, naked, their uniforms stripped off, abdomens slit open, faces smashed in, bodies bestially mutilated. The floor was red from pools of coagulated blood that had also run underneath the machines. Steiner switched off his flashlight. ‘Where is Schnurrbart?’ he asked.

‘They have him,’ Krüger replied hollowly.

‘Wait,’ Steiner ordered. He went over to a window. They watched as he swung up on a sill, paused for a moment and then jumped with both feet into the yard. ‘He’s crazy,’ Schulz stammered. They ran to the window and peered out into the grey twilight of dawn. Steiner ran erect across the yard. He kept his head forward, and they heard his gas mask knocking against his mess tin. Then his figure faded and vanished against the dark wall of the fence. ‘He’s got there,’ Krüger breathed. When a green light flashed along the fence, Krüger climbed on to the window sill. ‘First those two men with the canvas,’ he ordered. He waited until the men had lifted Schnurrbart’s body down.

Then they ran across the yard. They felt as if bells ought to be ringing somewhere as they ran, holding their faces up in the fresh morning air. Schulz, a short distance ahead, had come within a few yards of the fence when he stopped abruptly. He thought he had heard voices behind the fence. Krüger caught up with him and panted, ‘Go on, go on.’ At that moment they saw several of the slats of the fence being pushed aside. Steiner appeared in the gap and called impatiently to them to hurry. When they reached him they were stunned to see an officer standing beside him, addressing him with many shakes of the head, and behind the two stood several dozen men in German uniforms. ‘I’m seeing things,’ Krüger murmured. He turned to Schulz and Faber, who stood frozen beside him, and whispered: ‘I’m going mad.’