The Cross of Iron (69 page)

‘What about me?’ Steiner asked.

‘Captain Kiesel says you are to wait a little while,’ the man replied. He wore the chevrons of a staff corporal and had a weary, bored expression.

‘If you need me, I’ll be in front of the house,’ Steiner said indifferently.

He went out again. Here in the ravine the shadows had not yet lifted. Only the upper half of the western slope was tinted with a pink which slowly seeped into the gorge. The houses of this village formed two rows, with a lane between. Their chimneys were half crumbled and their slate roofs full of holes. Behind the eastern row of houses the slope was deeply eroded. The ugly ruts led to the dried bed of a stream which was undoubtedly a torrent during the rainy season. Several vehicles stood on the highway. One of them bore the divisional standard. At the wheel sat a driver, dozing. Steiner slowly wandered about among the houses. Perhaps it was on account of the early hour—it was shortly after six—that so few men were about. At the end of the row of houses, a sentry watched in boredom as three men of the signals platoon laid a cable. Steiner turned about and walked toward the other end of the settlement. The gorge led straight for about fifty yards, then bent sharply eastward. The highway, too, following the bed of the stream, disappeared beyond that corner. The last of the buildings stood somewhat at a distance from the others and seemed uninhabited. Glancing in through the glassless windows, Steiner saw bundles of straw lying on the bare floor. Behind the house a deep channel wound its way up the western slope of the ravine. In three places the highway cut across this channel. Accustomed to thorough analysis of the most trivial aspects of his surroundings, Steiner traced its course up to the rim of the ravine.

For a few minutes he stood gazing vacantly upward. Then he started back. As he approached the command post he saw the staff corporal standing on the steps, looking around. The man caught sight of him and called: ‘The captain is waiting for you.’

As he entered the room, Kiesel came striding toward him and held out his hand. ‘I’m so very glad you’re back!’ he said with a cordiality that took Steiner aback. ‘Make yourself comfortable. You really have been through something. The commander is occupied at the moment, therefore I’m delegated to listen to your story. We may as well get right to it. Smoke?’ Steiner looked at the pack of cigarettes Kiesel held out to him, the while he tried to fathom the captain’s intentions. He nodded and accepted a cigarette. ‘First of all I’d like to discharge an obligation,’ Kiesel went on. ‘I wouldn’t have delayed so long except that you’ve been, shall we say inaccessible, for quite a while. You saved my brother-in-law’s life, and I want to thank you for it. I regret being able to do so only in words, but you’ve never cared to accept favours from anyone, Steiner, and I hope you understand my feelings.’

Steiner shrugged uncomfortably. But his relief was so great that he was able to smile as he replied: ‘He happened to be in my way, so I picked him up, that’s all.’

A touch of Steiner’s new geniality passed over into Kiesel’s grave face. The captain nodded as though he had expected some such answer. ‘We’ll drop the subject for the present. Would you mind outlining the events inside the factory from the beginning.’ 

‘If you like.’ Steiner gave him a summary account. Kiesel scribbled brief notes on a sheet of paper. At the mention of Triebig’s death, the captain interrupted: ‘A hand grenade, you say?’ 

‘Hand grenade,’ Steiner assented, scanning Keisel’s face vainly for traces of suspicion. ‘The lieutenant was standing no more than two feet in front of me, and toppled over.’

‘Dead?’

‘I hope so,’ Steiner said coldly. ‘For his sake,’ he added as Kiesel raised his eyebrows. ‘If he was not killed the Russians will have butchered him as they did the wounded men whom the lieutenant abandoned to their fate.’

Kiesel blanched. ‘How did that happen?’ he asked quickly.

As Steiner went on with his story, the captain’s face set in harder and harder lines. Finally he stood up with an awkward movement. ‘I know you’re tired, but we may still need you. Captain Stransky has been ordered to see the commander at nine o’clock. It is possible that in connection with their meeting the commander will have a few more questions for you. Why don’t you take a nap until then. Tell the sentry where we can find you. Incidentally...’ He hesitated, and an edge of curiosity crept into his voice. ‘What did you do with the flag?’

‘Threw it away,’ Steiner replied curtly. ‘It was a nuisance to carry.’

‘Really?’ Kiesel’s voice expressed doubt. But he asked no more questions and accompanied Steiner to the door, stressing again that he must hold himself in readiness to be called at nine o’clock. ‘That gives you two and a half hours,’ he said. ‘Time to get a bit of rest.’ He nodded goodbye and opened the door.

As Steiner stepped out on the street he wondered whether it had been a mistake to expurgate his story. Originally he had not intended to conceal the manner in which Schnurrbart had been killed. Yet when he came to that part of his report something had compelled him to pass over the matter, although it was highly unlikely that Brandt or Kiesel would infer the connection between the lieutenant’s apparent error and his subsequent death. Perhaps the reason had been simply that talking about Schnurrbart at all was still too painful.

But this problem was insignificant in comparison to the vital information that Keisel had unwittingly given him. As he crossed the street a plan began to form in his mind. With every step it grew clearer. Suddenly a key detail occurred to him. He turned on his heel, and went back along the street until he met the sentry. ‘If they look for me,’ he told the soldier, ‘I’ll be taking a snooze in the last house over there. Tell your relief, remember.’

The man clicked his heels and said: ‘Yes, sir.’ Steiner headed straight for the house, pleased to note that the sentry was watching him with curiosity.

The house consisted of three small rooms so filthy that Steiner grimaced with disgust. The largest of them had apparently been used on and off as a latrine and stank fearfully. The second room was in somewhat better shape. It was in the centre of the house and had a window on the rear. Steiner decided to stay there. With the butt of his tommy-gun he hammered the bolt of the door shut and then went to the window. Opposite, a few yards away, the land sloped up toward the highway. He found himself looking directly into the erosion gulley. It was six feet deep on the average and from ten to twelve feet wide. Undoubtedly there were more like it in the vicinity, but this was the one for him since it was within a few steps from the window. The only danger points were the places where the highway crossed it. But it would take a considerable coincidence, Steiner told himself, for anyone to observe him at those points.

Having thought the matter out thus far, he slipped his pack off, laid it on the floor and sat down on it. Now that he was apparently going to have a chance to settle accounts with Stransky far sooner than he had hoped, he was filled with a violent impatience. Waiting seemed intolerable. Nevertheless he forced himself to sit still for a while.

Then he swung himself out of the window and began climbing the slope. He stayed in the gully, keeping his head low. The ground had been soaked by the rain; it was slippery and made hard going. Panting, he worked his way up to the first winding of the road. There he paused to catch his breath and look back. The roofs of the houses were already a considerable distance below him; he could see the rents in the slates. From above the gorge struck him as romantically wild. The road crossed the gully on a stone embankment about ten feet high. Steiner climbed over the stones, scurried across the dusty highway, and ducked down into the continuation of the gully again. He had hung the tommy-gun across his back in order to leave his hands free. After he had crossed the two other highway embankments he slung it over his shoulder once more, ready to hand, and climbed the rest of the way up the slope. The houses had vanished from his field of vision, but he could survey the ravine for more than a mile. He took a short breather and then followed the road. Since he could see a considerable distance in both directions, he was safe from unwanted encounters. The land was undulating here, rising somewhat to his left and forming a low ridge which would provide good cover if necessary. He had to avail himself of this cover sooner than he had expected. Turning around for a moment, he thought he saw a cloud of dust rapidly approaching, He sprang up the slope as fast as he could run. At the top he threw himself flat on the ground and watched the approaching vehicle. As it came closer he recognized the divisional car. The driver was wearing goggles which made his face almost unrecognizable. In the back sat two officers who seemed engaged in an excited discussion. Before he could recognize their rank the car disappeared again behind the billowing dust.

He lay where he was for a few minutes, considering. The regimental command post was still too near. He decided to go on another half-mile. As he got up, he wondered about the direction the divisional car had taken. If it kept going at that pace for another half-hour, he thought, it would run smack into the Russians. Instead of returning to the road, he continued swiftly on along the top of the ridge, carefully watching the terrain to his left. It fell off gently on the other side, then rose again after a few hundred yards to form another ridge. The ground was sandy and slowed
him
down. After ten minutes he stopped and looked around. The place seemed ideal for his purpose. Here the land dropped off more steeply from the crown of the ridge and he would have to go only a few paces in order to be completely invisible from the highway.

He unbuckled his belt, took his spade out of its leather case, and with the sharp edge marked a large rectangle in the sand. Then he set to work. The ground under the layer of sand was hard and forced him to take many rests. But he made good progress. Now and then he ran to the brow of the hill and peered westward where the road crawled under the veiled horizon and vanished. Then he returned to his hole and resumed work. Sweat poured down his face and his shirt stuck wetly to his back. After a while he took off his tunic and rolled up his shirt-sleeves. He worked until he stood chest deep in the ground. Then he stopped. Contentedly he looked at his pit; he remembered that a few weeks ago he had done a similar job for Stransky. Only then the purpose was different. As he climbed out of the hole there were grim lines around his mouth. He got into his tunic, buckled his belt on and picked up his tommy-gun. He lay down flat on top of the ridge and waited. It was fifteen minutes past eight.

After dismissing Steiner, Captain Kiesel went into Brandt’s office. The commander was sitting with two officers discussing the details of the impending transfer of the regiment to the Crimea. As Kiesel entered all turned their faces toward him. ‘All done?’ Brandt asked.

Kiesel nodded and sat down. ‘It’s fortunate that Herr Morlock is here,’ Brandt said, rubbing his sharp chin with the back of his hand. His eyelids fluttered rapidly. ‘We’ll discuss the case afterwards,’ he continued. Then he turned to Captain Killius, who sat grave-faced beside him. ‘You know all about it now, so there’s no need for you to be here for the conference at ten o’clock. You can set out for the battalion at once and relieve Herr Stransky. Is my car here?’ he asked Kiesel.

‘You gave it to Lieutenant Stroh,’ Kiesel reminded him.

‘Damn it, so I did,’ Brandt ejaculated. He turned in explanation to the fourth officer, who had said nothing as yet. ‘I sent Stroh to the Third. As you know, Major Vogel is dead. There’s a competent company commander taking his place, but I want to play safe.... Sorry, Captain Killius, I’m afraid you’ll have to walk it. If you keep up a good pace you’ll be there in less than an hour. It’s a quarter to seven now. In case Herr Stransky hasn’t left yet, you can explain the route to him.’

Killius stood up quickly. ‘I need to stretch my legs anyhow,’ he said.

‘Have you baggage?’ Brandt asked.

Killius shook his head. ‘I left it with the supply column. If I need it I’ll send for it.’

Captain Morlock, operations officer of the division, had been listening with interest to the brief exchange. As Killius was about to bid goodbye to the commander, he raised his hand. ‘One moment, please. If I’m not mistaken I can give you a ride, Captain Killius.’ He bent over the map in front of him. ‘Yes, you see, here is your road. I drove this same way with the general a few weeks ago. About a mile and a half west of here your road branches off from the highway, runs north for a while and then intersects with the highway again beyond the ravine. For me it will be the smallest detour, while it will save you a good forty minutes.’

‘I don’t want to put you to any trouble,’ Killius protested. 

‘Nothing of the sort, Captain Killius. Besides it will give us a chance to swap some more news.’ He turned to Brandt with a smile. ‘Captain Killius comes from the same town as myself, it seems. We discovered that yesterday when we first met at divisional headquarters.’

‘Then by all means make the most of your chance to talk,’ Brandt said. ‘Who knows when you may have another. Perhaps in the Urals,’ he concluded bitterly.

For the fraction of a second the captain’s face changed as a landscape does when the shadow of a cloud passes over it. Then his smile returned, reinforced, and he said: ‘I do not think our leadership is continuing to entertain such far-reaching goals. We would be content with Baku, sir.’ The undertone of reprimand in his words was barely perceptible, but Kiesel detected it. The dark-haired, thin-faced divisional operations officer was well known and feared for his straitlaced ideology. In their occasional meetings Kiesel had strictly avoided anything like a political discussion. Brandt, too, had always been on his guard with the man and had never so much as touched on subjects outside the line of duty.

But now the devil seemed to have entered Brandt. His bass voice rumbled dangerously. ‘Don’t misconstrue what I said, Herr Morlock; I don’t like having my words twisted. For the past year our goals have been determined not by ourselves, but by the Russians. You know that as well as I.’ He shook his big head and snorted. ‘You at Division should be able to see that more clearly than I can.’