The Cross of Iron (37 page)

In front of the building he stood still for a moment. The fresh night air, far from making him feel better, affected him badly. Reeling, he found his way down the path in the direction of the sea. With a vague idea of cleansing himself, he set out toward the beach. On the way he stumbled and fell so awkwardly that he cut his forehead and lay where he had fallen, half conscious. Suddenly he heard a voice: ‘How could you get yourself in such a state?’ He rose on his knees and began to curse. When someone gripped his shoulder, he struck out wildly with his fist. He heard a suppressed cry of pain. ‘Clear off!’ he panted. ‘Go away or-’ He staggered to his feet and plodded on, blood running down his forehead and into his eyes. Half-blinded, he reached the sand and stripped off his clothes. As he was about to plunge into the water, someone held his arms and again the voice, imploring and insistent, spoke in his ear: ‘Are you mad? You’re in no fit condition to-’ He whirled around and stared into the anxious face of the nurse.

It was a bright night. A full moon hung like a round lamp in the sky, shedding yellow light. The waves were rolling heavily up against the beach, digging into the pebbles and flattening out as though a crack in the earth were absorbing them. Steiner wiped the blood out of his eyes. ‘You touch me again,’ he said hoarsely, ‘and I’ll throw you into the water. What do you want anyway? Anything special about me that interests you?’ He looked down at her and suddenly laughed. ‘From what I hear a man’s no good when he’s drunk anyway,’ he added.

She looked steadily at him. He saw the disgust in her eyes. But she stood her ground. ‘Clear out!’ he said roughly. He strode forward up to his waist in the water, drew up his legs and let the waves carry him. After a while he swam against the tide and did not return to the beach until he could feel his arms and legs growing stiff and numb. From far out in the water he could see that she was waiting for him, standing like a statue against the background of the dark garden. As he emerged from the water, his teeth were chattering. Before he reached his clothes, he felt sick. He turned quickly, dropped down with his face in the water and vomited. His body heaved; he could feel all the air leaving his lungs, but he allowed himself to slide deeper and deeper into the water. Suddenly he was gripped by the feet and pulled back. Struggling for breath, he lay on the ground and saw her horrified face above him. ‘What are you doing?’ she stammered. ‘My God, what are you doing?’

He turned over on his back and looked at her. Abruptly he felt a surge of rage and shame. The repulsive taste of vomit was on his tongue, and he felt his stomach drawing together again. But he fought down the new fit of vomiting. Blood began streaming down his face afresh. Suppressing a groan, he sat up. When she tried to support him, he knocked her arm back. ‘Are you still here?’ he growled. ‘If you don’t go away I’ll smash-’ He broke off and stooped for his clothes.

Suddenly something else occurred to him. He glanced at the chest-high wall which surrounded the garden only twenty feet away. Heavily, he went over to it, pulled himself up and dropped to the soft ground on the other side. Before the surprised nurse could follow him, he crawled a few yards forward into the darkness of the garden, flattened out on the ground and looked back. He waited with bated breath. If she went to the canteen to fetch help from the men, he would have to clear out in a hurry. The thought worried him, and he raised himself slightly off the ground. Now he could distinctly hear her footsteps as she ran along the wall. She must have reached the little gate by now. He tensed his muscles. Although he was trembling violently in the cool night air, he did not move from the spot. The trees almost shut out the moonlight. Nevertheless he could see her white uniform nearing; she was evidently looking around for him. He pillowed his head on his arms and began to moan softly. A moment later he heard her voice in words of concern, and then she was close beside him.

He moved so swiftly that he smothered her resistance and her outcry before she could recover from her initial horrified numbness. He pulled her to the ground, brutally threw himself upon her, pulled her skirt over her head and pressed his knee between her legs. Then he suddenly released her and stood up. He stood watching her as she slowly sat up, rearranged her clothing and stared at him without speaking.

‘Why did you follow me?’ he asked in a low voice.

She did not answer. He shook his head slightly. ‘You are reckless, Nurse Gertrud. In the future keep your humanitarian paws off drunken men. It might be misunderstood.’

‘You’re mad,’ she murmured. Her face was as white as her uniform, and she was breathing heavily.

‘We are all mad,’ he replied tranquilly. ‘We are living in an age of absolute madness; the few normal people are safely behind barbed wire because they have failed to understand that it’s no longer worth being normal.’ He laughed and felt the wound on his forehead. ‘Our century is changing everything. What was thought bad in the past will be thought good in the future, and what was good once will become bad. We will no longer lie on top of but under women, and some day we’ll reach the point where the men will bear the children and the women go out and earn the bread.’ He tittered. ‘We’re heading for a great age, nurse; madness will be total and the insane asylums emptied.’ He took a step toward her and lowered his voice. ‘You’re just as mad as I am, because if you were normal you’d stay home and darn socks and study cookbooks instead of coming to places where every man has two glands too many. You get me?’

‘My father is a doctor,’ she replied calmly.

‘So much the worse. Then he ought to know what comes of leaving his daughter to a horde of two-footed billygoats. If I were your father, I would have pounded your backside black and blue and locked you up in the cellar.’

He turned away abruptly, climbed over the wall and found his clothes. He was dead sober now, but his head ached as though it were locked in a vice. Dressed, he went over to the wall once more and looked into the garden. The nurse was still standing motionless in the same place. Her face seemed dark now, scarcely distinguishable against the background of the night. For a moment he was tempted to say a friendly word to her. Then he shrugged, turned away and strode along the beach until the massive structure of the divisional rest home appeared among the trees. With few exceptions the windows were dark. He remembered that ten o’clock was tattoo. It must be within a few minutes of ten. He hurried, found the front door open, and slowly mounted the stairs. In front of his room he hesitated. Then he went softly to the next door and leaned forward, listening. He glanced up and down the hall to make sure no one was there, and slowly depressed the latch. As he entered the dark room he heard a hasty sound and a sleepy voice asked: ‘Who’s there?’

‘Three guesses,’ he said, closing the door behind him. For a few seconds there was a dead silence. Then he heard a sound like that made by a blanket being thrown back. His eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness meanwhile and he saw a figure in white get out of the bed and hesitantly approach him. She seemed to recognize him, stood still and said indignantly: ‘Leave my room at once.’

‘You’ve got that out of the cinema,’ he said. ‘But don’t worry; I just wanted to ask you whether you have any aspirin. I’ve got a frightful headache.’

She came two steps closer, her long nightgown trailing around her ankles. ‘You’re drunk,’ she said with disgust.

He regarded her speculatively. ‘Not any more. I got rid of it all in the water. Have you aspirin?’

She hesitated. As she turned toward the door, he gripped her shoulders and held her tightly. ‘Were you going to turn on the light?’ he asked.

‘Yes.’

‘You don’t need any light,’ he said, feeling along her arms. The nightgown had slipped off her right shoulder and he knew that she had slid it off deliberately. But she defended herself and panted: ‘Let me go. I’ll scream. I will scream.’

‘Sure, you will scream,’ he said.

Her breasts were firm and soft. When she tried to kiss him, he turned his face aside and laid her on the bed.

Later, when they were lying side by side, he mused about Gertrud. Why, he wondered, had she not run to the canteen for help. There was no doubt that she was a different sort, different from this girl beside him, whose name he did not even know. In the darkness he smiled and asked: ‘What is your name?’

‘My friends call me Inge.’ When he said nothing, she pressed close to him and stroked his chest. ‘Don’t you like the name?’ 

‘Why, of course I do; why shouldn’t I like it?’

‘How many girls have you said that to?’

He laughed. ‘Up to this moment I’ve never met a girl named Inge. At least not in bed,’ he added.

He tried to sit up. She held him tight. ‘Where are you going?’ 

‘To bed.’

‘But you can sleep here with me,’ she said, disappointed.

He shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t be able to sleep.’

Vexed, she pulled the blanket up under her chin and watched him dress. When he was finished, he came over to the bed once more and said: ‘Good night.’

‘Aren’t you at least going to kiss me?’ Her voice was quivering with anger. He stooped and casually kissed her shoulder.

‘Is that all?’ she asked.

‘Isn’t it enough. Do you want to be paid?’

She started up as though the pillow under her back had become a hot iron. Then she threw herself face down on the bed and began to sob wildly. Steiner stood for a moment looking at her in embarrassment. Then he slowly withdrew, closing the door behind him. For a while he stood in the corridor with eyes closed. When the sobbing stopped, he went to his room. For a long while he stood at the window, staring out at the sea. He felt oddly wakeful and not at all tired. Dispiritedly, he undressed again. His headache was almost gone, but the cut on his forehead throbbed painfully. He took out his pocket-mirror and by the light of a candle examined the narrow, blood-encrusted slit over his right eyebrow. Irritably, he shook his head. Then he threw himself down on the bed and closed his eyes. The candle burned down and went out. Outside the open window the sea breathed, gasping, rolling blindly up on the beach, and the moon hung above the water like a savage mask, grinning like a faun.

Steiner awoke early next morning. He felt as fresh and rested as if he had slept for twenty-four hours without a break. Carefully, he washed the encrusted blood from his forehead, put a bit of adhesive over the wound, and appeared punctually in the dining-room. As he approached the private’s table he saw that a place was set for him. Several of the men were already at the table; in response to his greeting they winked significantly. The one who had fetched the card of regulations for him last night pulled out the chair for him, saying: ‘Congratulations, Sergeant.’ ‘You gave it to them,’ another man commented. ‘What did you do to your forehead? Been rubbing elbows with the big chief?’

Steiner sat down. ‘No, just rubbing noses with the ground.’ He leaned back comfortably in his chair. ‘Here come their lordships,’ someone said. Everyone turned to look at the door, where the NCOs were entering. Leatherskin came last. They sat down without so much as a glance in Steiner’s direction. Later Steiner noticed Inge serving at the NCOs’ table. After breakfast he went up to his room, straightened it up and then set out for the beach. In spite of the early-morning chill he decided to take a swim, and drifted about in the water for a long time. Suddenly he caught sight of Towhead sitting on a bench and apparently watching him. Steiner pretended not to notice him; he swam back to where his clothes lay and dressed. He suddenly felt the impulse to talk with somebody about Nurse Gertrud, and the only person to talk to was Towhead. He began sauntering idly in his direction and stopped in pretended surprise when his name was called. ‘Well, what are you doing here so early?’ He sat down on the bench.

‘What happened to your head?’ Towhead asked.

Steiner touched the adhesive. ‘Slight accident,’ he said casually. ‘Did you stay long?’

‘In the canteen?’

‘Yes.’

They looked out over the water. After a while Towhead asked: ‘Did you see Gertrud later last night?’

‘How come?’ Steiner asked, feeling his way.

‘Oh, I was just wondering. She went out after you. Said you were so drunk you had to be watched.’

‘Why didn’t you come with her?’

Towhead laughed in vexation. ‘She said I was so tight myself I wouldn’t be any help. I waited over an hour in the canteen, but she didn’t come back.’

‘Well,’ Steiner said pensively.

Towhead regarded him suspiciously. Then he stooped, picked up a pebble and skipped it over the water. ‘At any rate,’ he went on maliciously, ‘she was awfully queer this morning.’

‘Just one of her days, I guess,’ Steiner said.

Towhead shook his head vigorously. ‘No, it’s something else. I’m not usually nosy, but I’d give a lot to know what happened last night.’

‘You can ask her.’

They sat in silence. The beach was gradually coming to life. Alone and in groups men were appearing. Most of them headed straight for the water. Others stretched out on the pebbles in the sun. Since it was obvious that he would get no further information out of Towhead, Steiner stood up. ‘I have things to do.’

‘Won’t you be coming over this evening.’

Steiner shook his head. ‘No, thanks. I’ve had enough for the present.’

‘But you haven’t even met the other girl yet,’ Towhead said insistently. ‘The breasty one. She wasn’t around last night. There’s a girl for you.’

Steiner raised his eyebrows. ‘I thought the paymaster had reserved her.’

‘God, what would that mean around here. A man like you would put that old barrel-belly in the shade.’

‘Too strenuous,’ Steiner said, grinning. Towhead’s jealousy was all too obvious. He was surprised to find himself slightly pained by the thought that there might be something between Towhead and the nurse. What did he care? Nevertheless, as he walked along the beach, his early-morning good humour was gone.

After supper Steiner decided to take a walk through the town. He strolled aimlessly down the street between the spacious lawns whose scent mingled with the tang of the water. A strange mood had taken possession of him, and he stopped frequently to gaze up at the massive mountain slopes, or over the sea. He had the feeling that he was walking upon a narrow path that led between the heights and depths, between serenity and restiveness, to the intersection of all roads; and he smiled bitterly at the thought that there should be a new road from there, one going in a different direction. There was only one road for him, and it was the road taken by all the men who stopped in this resort for a brief breathing spell—the road back to the front. For a moment he closed his eyes. Better not to think about that, he told himself. Every such thought was like a razor-edged knife cutting another sliver off the little time remaining to him.