North (14 page)

He points . . . to the north . . .

"We won't go . . ."

Those villages to the north . . . no more roads . . . all ruts and brambles . . .

We sit down . . . maybe now hell say something . . . really a quiet, safe place . . .

"Well?"

"YouTve surely guessed, Céline . . . I've got to find you an occupation . . . not only for you, for your friend and Madame too. . ."

"Of course!"

"You know . . . you must have read that in our Reich everyone has to be busy . . . at the front, in the rear . . . malicious tongues, you know . . . but maybe a temporary solution . . . you're ill, disabled, you need a rest . . . fine! . . . your friend Le Vigan is crazy, sick too, you take care of him . . . fine! . . . an actor, why not? . . . your wife will take care of you . . . how does that strike you?"

"Splendid, my dear Harras . . . in the hospital?" . . .

"No! . . . no! certainly not! convalescence . . . well send you . . . all three of you . . . to one of our
Dienstelles
. . . an "annex" . . . not far, seventy miles . . . you know . . . in case of air raids . . . north of here . . . I think you'll be very comfortable, all three of you . . . seventy miles north of here . . . in Zornhof . . . a little castle . . . you'll enjoy yourselves! . . . Count-Baron
Rittmeister
von Leiden! a pure Prussian . . . purer than I am! more gaga than I am! . . . seventy-four! comes by it honestly! absolutely degenerate!. . . and paraplegic! and his daughter Marie-Thérèse . . . a pianist! they both speak French excellently, better than I do!"

Impossible, my dear Harrasl Impossible!"

"You'll see! and Poles all over the place! worse than here! you'll see! . . . plenty of land! . . . wait . . . his son! the farm across the way, no legs, epileptic! . . . ho-ho! . . . and his daughter-in-law Inge and his granddaughter Cillie . . . the basket case doesn't speak French . . . and not just Polacks, you'll see! . . . Russians too, in the beet fields! . . . women, men . . . prisoners . . . volunteers . . . alleged Russian deserters . . . and 'Vlasovs' . . . Bolsheviks the whole lot of them . . . Communist spies! . . . ah, but the best of all, you'll see, our
bibelforschers
, you know what I mean?. . . our 'conscientious objectors' . . . you'll see it all! . . . and the prostitutes from Berlin, too dangerous, incurable 'tertiaries' . . . you'll see them, they work on the roads, not at Zornhof . . . in Moorsburg nearby . . . hundreds of them! Communists tool . . . and French workers besides . . . ferocious anti-Nazis! . . . they won't like you . . . and they're tricky! When they find out who you are . . . watch your step . . . another one to watch out for is the head of our
'Dienstelle'
. . . Kratzmuhl and his wife . . . I don't know what their game is . . . I'll find out one of these, days . . . you'll be right near Moorsburg . . . you'll see Moors-burg before it's too late . . . hasn't been bombed yet. . . the pharmacist there . . . he's up to something too, I don't know what . . . the city of Frederick II, where he drilled his men . . . with an iron hand! ho-ho! . . . his private city, built for the purpose . . . with drill grounds, five or six times the size of Place Vendôme! . . . but no Ritz and no rue de la Paix . . . ho-ho! He had his recruits flogged on the spot, right in the middle of the square! flogged to death if the offense was senous! . . . discipline! . . . when he was through lie played the flats and wrote to Voltaire in verse . . . bad verse, but never mind . . . you won't be bored up there . . . in your convalescent home . . . little museum in Moorsburg . . . Madame von Leiden will take you around, the son's wife, the one without any legs . . . she'll want French lessons, I'm sure . . . oh, she's not bad-looking, not at all! . . . or crippled like her husband . . . you'll see! . . . you can't stay here, in Grünwald, I mean . . . impossible! . . . well be bombed again in Grünwald, what's left of it! . . .and I'll come and see you often in your manor . . . if I'm not dead! . . . ho-ho! . . . you won't have to work at all up there . . . maybe in a few months . . . well find you a place to practice . . . a factory . . . maybe Le Vigan could be a nurse?"

"Yes . . . yes . . . certainly . . ."

I had nothing to say . . . but I couldn't see us in Zornhof . . .

"You won't tell anybody, will you? . . . your wife or your friend either . . . I'll take you there myself the day after tomorrow . . . Wednesday midday . . . I'll drive you!"

"Splendid, Harras! I understand!"

All these precautions! . . . maybe he wasn't taking us to Zomhof at all . . . another look at the graveyard, all those mounds of brambles . . . why had he brought us there? . . . matter of taste? . . . maybe that's all it was . . . that funereal quirk all Boches . . . they don't admit it, but they're predisposed, attracted . . . I try to read some more names under the brambles . . .

"Perhaps you've noticed, Harras, mostly women . . ."

Harras had noticed it too . . .

"Maternity in those days! . . . same phenomenon in the United States at the same period . . . excellent study by Eichel . . . did you know Eichel?

Had I known Eichel! . . . the New York State statistician, Balzac scholar in his odd moments . . .

"An extremely interesting paper on the mortality of women in New York State at the end of the seventeenth century . . . Eichel! . . . you know him?"

"Definitely, Harras! . . . Definitely!"

"Roughly three women for every man . . . normal for the period . . . the men remarried three . . . four times . . . normal for the period . . . New York or Berlin . . . these Polacks in Felix don't bury each other here, they've got their own cemetery over there . . ."

He motioned.

"East . . . far . . . we won't go . . ."

He points to a clump of trees at the end of the plain . . . funny how people have infinity at their fingertips . . . a gesture . . . between heaven and earth . . .

He recapitulates . . .

"Well, then, my dear Céline, it's settled . . . Wednesday midday . . . and not a word . . . to anybody . . . not a word!"

"Like the tomb, Harras, like the tomb!"

I don't see die reason for all this secrecy, but he must know . . . once you're chased out of your four walls, you're a toy . . . everybody gets a kick out of scaring you . . . the look on your face . . . puzzles all around you . . . I wasn't at all sure of Harras . . . this crazy expedition . . . Felixruhe? what had we come here for? not clear at all! . . . exercise? . . . to admire the ruins of this church? . . . the Huguenot cemetery? . . . is this why he'd put on his Sunday best . . . full uniform, braid, epaulettes, three swastikas? . . . to tell me what? . . . about Zornhof? . . . that we were moving? . . . sure to be another stinking hole! . . . people even more "anti-us" than here . . . plus, he'd told me himself, prisoners from the Resistance . . . very promising . . .

You don't see it, but it's there . . . watch out! the boards are greased! . . .

What I was thinking! I didn't say it, I didn't say anything . . . I listened to Harras . . . he  did the talking . . .

"Well, now we've seen Felixruhe . . . well lock up the church . . . or maybe it's not worth bothering?"

It was open on all sides . . . completely! the nettles and creepers had invaded the interior, the pews were covered . . . and the bell. . .

"They'll make a film . . . old churches! they'll restore it!
progaganda! propaganda!
Ho-ho!"

"Who?"

"Whoever comes next! churches! always good for propaganda! nowadays materialists! atheists! . . . that's what we need: serious atheists!"

"You'll get them, Harras! You'll get them!"

"What I'd like to see is the Russians reeducating the Chinese! making them hoist the bell back in place, up there!"

"You will, Harras! You will! You'll see everything! . . ."

I'm the cheerer-upper, the optimist! . . . I try the key again . . . it turns round and round in the hole . . . this key has seen better days . . . so has the church . . . cracked and creviced from end to end . . . no need of bombs!

The wind will blow it away, Harras!"

And that's the end of it . . . he's told me what he had to say . . . that we're moving Wednesday . . . big deal! . . . why the secrecy? he's stopped talking . . . we take a different path . . . not the same . . . why? . . . back to his bus . . . too mastodontic for anybody to swipe . . . ah, there it is at the end of the path . . . no, not the car itself, the mob all around it and on top, a swarm of legs and asses, intertwined! crawling all over it! they're going to eat it! . . . my turn to laugh! . . . he'd spiffed himself out just for this . . . boots, épaulettes, the ogre in gold and silver . . . to keep them at a distance! authority! my ass! . . . knots and clusters of them! . . . the top, the hood, the wheels . . . and Lili underneath! and Le Vigan and Bébert . . . I yell . . . twice . . .

"Lili! . . . Lili!"

She answers . . . through the giggles and guffaws . . . kids! . . . they want to see Bébert . . . they insist . . . Pépert . . . Pépert!" 

We can't get through . . . hell, this won't do! . . . Harras takes one look, not a word, he grabs his shooting iron . . . his big Mauser . . . and
bam! bam!
he fires in the air . . . the whole magazine! they move all right! . . . they split! . . . the kids! the grownups! Harras doesn't say a word . . . another magazine! . . . still in the air! . . .
bam!
Harras doesn't like to be inconvenienced . . . even the sparrows! . . . the road is open, empty, not a soul . . . as far as the eye can see . . . up in the trees . . . I ask Lili and Le Vig what happened . . . if they haven't stolen anything?

"No . . . they wanted us to speak Polish and bring out Bébert . . .
protche pani!
protche pani!"

Aside from that, Le Vig was pretty sure of one thing . . . that they'd recognized him!

"Right off the bat they said to me:
franzouski! franzouski!"

All in all they'd been friendly . . . even enthusiastic . . . about the big Mercedes, Bébert, and the
franzouski 
. . . maybe about Le Vig in particular? . . . his lovely "Christ-on-the-Cross''' expression? . . . maybe . . . anyway we were free to shove off . . . nothing in front of us . . . oh yes there was . . . two girls! . . . very young . . . I hadn't seen them right away, I'd been looking off in the distance . . . on their knees right in front of the car . . . imploring . . .

"Mit! mit! mit! bitte!"

In tears . . . want us to take them with us! Harras, no hesitation . . . he starts cursing . . . a mouthful!

"Careful! Carefull . . .
vorsicht!
. . . the ones that speak German are the worst!"

He lets them talk . . . one thing I'll say, they're not afraid . . . of the Mercedes or Harras or his gun . . . in between their sobs they tell us . . . their fathers and mothers are dead, they're all alone in Felixruhe, all the men want to rape them . . . the men will be coming back from the beet fields . . . they've been thrown out of their pad . . . somebody's stolen their ticks . . . they haven't anything left . . . they want to come with us . . . work for us . . . anything . . . anything we want! . . . in the fields . . . in the kitchen . . . anything! . . . as long as we take them . . . or, kill them right there on the road if we won't take them! this minute! they touch Harras's Mauser . . . they bare their breasts . . . still on their knees . . . they show us where we can kill them, here, in the heart! . . . his big gat! . . . this minute! so long as we don't leave them there alive! . . . in the heart! . . . in the heart! . . . Harras must be used to these kind of supplications . . . doesn't even look surprised . . .

"You know, Céline, it's a pack of lies! . . . all lies! . . . not a grain of truth!"

He thinks it over . . .

"One thing, though . . . just one thing! last week they took away three of our women in Grünwald . . . I don't know where they went . . . Polish too . . ."

I let him think . . .

"Oh yes! I've got it! . . . laundresses! they took them to the Eastern Front . . . that's it!"

He's pleased . . . and now back to these girls here . . . 

"Nun! . . . ernst!
and now let's be serious! . . .
waschen? wollen sie waschen
. . . do you want to wash?"

"Ja! . . . ja! . . . ja! . . ."

Anything we want . . . that does it, he's made up his mind . . .

"Komm!
. . . all right with you, colleague, well take them . . . but I'll have to search them first . . . can't trust them . . ."

They get up off their knees . . . not crying any more he feels them . . . the rags . . . the folds . . . and then their hair . . . and between their legs . . . it's all right with them . . . anything is all right with them . . . he doesn't find anything . . . only lice . . . he shows me . . .

"They'll get rid of them where they're going . . ."

He turns to them . . . do they really want to come? . . . And how!

"Ja! . . .ja! . . . ja!"

Pure joy! . . . more tears! happy! happy!

Hop in! All aboard! . . . Lili, me, Le Vig, Bébert, and our two little laundress girls . . . beautiful hair, I notice . . . wavy, wheat-blond . . . now I can see their eyes, large and pale blue . . . the Slavic type, I suppose . . . Slavic charm . . . that knife-blade charm that the whole bourgeoisie goes for, head first, and the proletariat too! . . . eye to eye about one thing at least! . . . reeling with enthusiasm! oh, but not Harras! for his money our pickups were sly little tarts, wouldn't put anything past them! . . . no illusions! . . . he didn't give a shit about their Slavic charm! but Grünwald was short on laundresses, so these two sluts or somebody else . . .

"But keep an eye on them! no signals out the windows! keep them between you!"

Okay with Le Vig . . . they were exchanging smiles already . . . no more tears or appeals to kill them . . . Harras takes another look at the road . . . nothing! . . . and the village . . . not a soul! he pulls out his big Mauser again and
bam!
a whole magazine! in the air! . . . and another! . . . in the direction of the church! . . . so nobody should watch us leaving . . . good, he takes the wheel . . . off we go! . . . maybe two hundred yards . . . he puts on the brakes . . . he gets out . . . this time he takes a beautiful machine gun from under the seat . . . and accessories, pivot, tripod, ammunition . . . he sets it up in the middle of the road and fires . . .
brrrrr!
a burst . . . another . . . at Felixruhe . . .

"You know, colleague, those people seem to be afraid . . . they're not! . . . if you forget to shoot . . . they shoot! . . . they don't seem to be armed . . . they are!"

We were all set. . . he gets back in and steps on it . . . none of your wheezing wood burners his Mercedes, a genuine gas buggy . . . nobody says a word . . . Le Vig . . . usually so attentive to the ladies . . . slumps back into his meditations . . . he's thinking . . . maybe wondering if we're going back to Grünwald . . . still, I hadn't told him what was cooking . . . me, I had reasons for being a little thoughtful . . . he'd see! . . . nothing much to look at . . . the landscape . . . people hoeing . . . barefoot . . . mostly women, Polish Russian . . . the Brandenburg earth, gray and tan . . . potato fields . . . in the distance a kind of grandeur between, heaven and earth . . . their special brand of immensity . . . our immensities aren't sinister, theirs are . . . is that, what Le Vigan was thinking about? . . . anyway we were getting a good shaking! . . . nothing contemplative about that road! . . . maybe they'd put in extra stones to make us bounce, smash us up!
crash!
. . . boom! . . . back on our seats! another hole! . . .
bam
our heads against the roof! and
bam
again! . . . the little laundresses giggling . . . how quickly youth turns tears to laughter! . . . at every bump!

"You been there before?"

I ask in pidgin German.

"Nein! nein!"

Nothing jaded about these kids . . .

"Been to Berlin?"

"Nein! nein!"

Luckily Harras had strong arms to hold the road, he needed them . . . More and more mudholes! . . . flying leaps, from one to the next! the giant gas hound flies over the crevasses! not so fast coming! . . . the way back, believe me, we charged . . . he sings under his breath . . .

                                                    Vater! O Vater! 

                                                    Father! O Father!

the Erl King!

"Necessary, my dear Céline! Necessary! . . . not doing it for fun!"

Fun or not, we're going to crash! . . . plow up the fields! . . . but we're getting there! . . . down a long hill . . . no more fields . . . ruins . . . on the right and left! . . . cobbles . . . I know the place . . . Grünwald . . . the gutted villas, the dangling balconies . . . here we are! . . . this is us!
Reichsgesundt
. . . on the ball now! these chicks might try a vanishing act! . . . Harras is hefty but quick . . . he jumps down from his seat . . . another jump! . . . he opens the door . . .

"Stay there all of you! wait!"

He orders lieutenant Otto to go get somebody . . .
Frau
. . . some name I don't know . . . the
frau
comes out . . . I'd never seen her, graying, plumpish, in a blue uniform . . . not an encouraging face . . . I gather from what they say that she's in command of something . . . Harras introduces our two young ladies . . . half a second they throw themselves on their knees . . . down on their knees again! imploring . . . same scene as in Felixruhe . . . this woman in blue, maybe the head laundress, speaks to them in their language, Polish . . . they answer with sobs, no more whoopie . . . still on their knees . . . there! there! . . . they motion toward the car, they've got something therel'there! . . . something they want to show her . . . no! . . . not . . . in back! farther back! . . . farther? . . . in the trunk? . . . what's this? . . . they didn't have a thing! . . . nobody saw them put anything in the trunk . . . we all go over . . . the whole bunch and Lieutenant Otto and all the
Volkssturms
and the
frau
and us . . . wouldn't want the girls to do a fadeout! some business opening this trunk! . . . six bolts . . . three tires . . . we take it apart . . . what can they have hidden . . . in the bottom of the trunk? . . . ah, that's it! a bundle! a big one! rags! . . . and inside a kid all muffled up! . . . sleeping! . . . a boy! . . . they'd slipped him in without anybody noticing . . . some punishment! . . . he doesn't complain . . . all tied up in rags and string . . . he starts laughing when he sees us . . .