The Cross of Iron (4 page)

Krüger rubbed his sleeve over his wet face. ‘What are you making such a fuss for?’ he grumbled. ‘Forget it, for God’s sake, there are more important things to think about at the moment.’

Intimidated, Dietz fell silent. He sat regarding his dirty hands unhappily. It just wasn’t right, he thought. A reprimand—all right, punishment exercises—that was all right, too. But smashing a lighted cigarette into a man’s face—that was going too far, much too far. The more he thought about it, the more indignant he became. Steiner had always been decent to him personally, but that, too, might change, some day. It was a matter of principle. What had just happened to Kern might easily happen to any of them tomorrow. Although, of course, he himself would hardly be caught making a mistake like that. After all, he was a soldier, a front -liner. At this point in his train of thought, Dietz saw the thing clearly. ‘If a thing’s wrong on the lowest level, it’s wrong all through,’ he said. ‘That’s why it’s a serious matter. Do you think -’ he hesitated. ‘Don’t you think that if they started hitting each other in the face at the Führer’s headquarters, we wouldn’t be feeling the effects of it quick enough. I tell you, we’ve got to have order. Order and discipline from the bottom to the top, but also from the bottom to the top.’ He spoke these last words with the utmost conviction.

Krüger grinned. ‘It’s the same thing.’

‘What is?’

‘Well, you said we’ve got to have order from the bottom to the top, but also from the bottom to the top. It’s the same thing.’

It took a moment for Dietz to grasp this. ‘That was just a slip of the tongue,’ he said irritably. ‘You know what I meant: from the bottom to the top and from the top to the bottom. In the Führer’s headquarters -’

‘Don’t strain your guts, my boy,’ Krüger said. ‘In the Führer’s headquarters they gargle with champagne. If we were up there we’d be gargling piss.’ He wiped his hand over his mouth. ‘Yes, we’d feel the effects if they started hitting one another.’ The thought amused him and he chuckled. ‘Maybe they will, at that; but not until all of us right here are in the soup. You know what the issue is at the moment?’ He brought his face close to Dietz’s. ‘The issue is that we have to get out of here. And you know why? I’ll tell you.’ He poked his finger into Dietz’s chest; affronted, Dietz moved back. ‘I’ll tell you,’ he repeated. ‘We have to get out so that we’ll be on time to get into the next mess. Out of one mess into the next. That’s been going on for three years and it’ll go on until we get into one mess good and deep and don’t come out of it.’ He came to an end of words, having worked himself into a rage.

Dietz gazed at him dumbfounded. Then he turned to Dorn, who had been genially listening to the conversation. ‘What do you say to that, Professor?’

Dorn forced a grave expression. ‘It is difficult,’ he said. ‘I shall have to consult my books.’

The men grinned and turned their attention back to the highway. It was slowly beginning to grow light. The terrain was now fairly visible. In front of them the field sloped steeply up to an embankment and beyond rose the black silhouettes of mountains against the greying sky.

‘Where the devil is the highway?’ Zoll whispered.

Krüger shrugged. ‘It must be in a dip. Once we get our carcasses over it, we’re clear.’

They lifted their heads. The sounds on the highway had stopped.

They all jumped to their feet and stared up the sloping field. ‘Here comes somebody,’ Dietz whispered hoarsely. A figure emerged out of the dim foreground, came running toward them with great leaps. ‘Hollerbach,’ Zoll whispered. At this moment Hollerbach stopped and waved his fist in the air. ‘Let’s go,’ Krüger said. They snatched their guns and ran up the slope. Hollerbach waited a moment for them, then turned. Panting, they followed him. When they reached the crown of the hill they saw the highway beneath them in the grey dawn light, deserted. They slipped down the steep declivity and raced across the trampled, rutted width of the road toward the edge of the woods which rose like a dark wall against the further mountains. Schnurrbart and Steiner were waiting for them. Seconds later they were trampling through the dense undergrowth and were several hundred yards within the woods. Gasping, they stopped to catch their breath. It had by now grown so light that they could see clearly. When they looked at Steiner they saw a wild gleam of triumph in his eyes.

Krüger raised his hand. They turned in unison to face the road, from which the rumble of vehicles could again be heard. But now that they had made the crossing, they did not care. The fearful nervous tension of the past few hours dropped away. They grinned, slapped one another exuberantly on the back. ‘We’ve got the stuff,’ one said boastfully.

‘Precision work,’ commented Hollerbach. To celebrate he lit a cigarette.

Schnurrbart looked around. ‘What mountains are those?’ he asked.

‘Just hills,’ Steiner explained. ‘We have to cross them. The marsh begins on the other side of them.’ He turned to the men. ‘Get ready,’ he ordered.

They picked up their gear. Kern hung back; now and again he would rub the burned spot on his face and give Steiner a dirty look. ‘Don’t take it so hard,’ Dietz said to him. Kern did not condescend to answer.

They started off once more. For a while their way led over springy, moss -covered forest floor. The slope grew steeper, and they began toiling uphill, gasping for breath. The climb seemed everlasting. Tight -lipped with determination, they gained ground slowly; every yard uphill represented a scramble. They kept their eyes fixed in the direction of the invisible crest of the hill which must lie somewhere up above these trees. Their good humour ebbed away and they began cursing.

‘They ought to stop for a bit up front there,’ Dietz panted. He stood still and wiped the sweat from his forehead. Krüger, who was behind him, also stopped. ‘What’s the matter, Child? Fuel running low?’

‘They ought to make a break,’ Dietz repeated plaintively. He was done in. Krüger regarded him with a frown. ‘If you start giving out now, how is it going to be later on?’ He shifted the machine -gun to his left shoulder. ‘Let me have your boxes.’

Dietz sighed gratefully. While Krüger picked up his boxes of ammunition, he loosened his belt. ‘I have a stitch in the side,’ he said apologetically.

‘You’ll get over that in a little while,’ Krüger lied reassuringly. ‘Come on, or we’ll be holding this position alone.’

The others had meanwhile gone a considerable distance ahead. But after several more of the men protested, Steiner allowed a rest. It was full daylight by now. The woods were filled with the hearty song of birds. The men sprawled on the ground and looked up the steep slope. ‘Damned tough going,’ Zoll said. ‘We ought to be on top soon.’

‘We will be,’ Steiner replied. ‘You all could have done those few yards more.’

Maag yawned. He turned on his side so that he could look up at Steiner and asked: ‘Where’s the rush? We’ll get where we’re going soon enough.’

‘It depends on where you’re going,’ Steiner growled.

Maag refused to back down. ‘Same place you’re going.’

‘If that’s so you have no time to lose.’

‘We’ll make those twenty miles by tonight easy,’ Maag retorted, confidently. He was enjoying the rest and had made up his mind not to stand up for another ten minutes at least.

Steiner regarded him contemptuously. ‘If it’s only twenty miles. But if the battalion doesn’t succeed in holding the position where we’re to meet them until tomorrow, we’ll have another fifteen to go.’

Krüger pinched his nose between his thumb and forefinger. ‘Where will they move to in that case?’ he asked.

‘I told you yesterday,’ Steiner replied curtly.

Schnurrbart rolled over on his belly and explained: ‘West of Krymskaya.’ He turned to Steiner. ‘Do you know what positions they’re supposed to take there?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then everything’s under control,’ Krüger said contentedly.

Steiner glanced irritably at him. None of them seemed to realize what they were facing. But it was better that way, he reflected. What worried him most was the stream marked on the map as cutting at an angle across the forest. There was no reason to assume a bridge in this uninhabited area. If necessary, he thought, we’ll have to fell trees. Without the proper tools that would be exhausting and time -consuming work. The sooner they reached the river the better. ‘Let’s go,’ he ordered loudly.

They stared up at him in dismay. ‘Already,’ Zoll said. ‘You can wait a few minutes more.’

Steiner stood up. He walked over to where Zoll sat. ‘Listen to me,’ he said, his voice quivering with rage, ‘you’re beginning to get on my nerves. Maybe you better not call attention to yourself for a while.’

Zoll propped himself up on his elbow and became aware that the muzzle of Steiner’s tommy -gun was dancing right before his eyes. ‘Take that thing away!’ he squawked in alarm.

‘I plan to,’ Steiner stated. He turned, and they saw him taking long strides up the slope. Hastily, they stood up, brushed the wet leaves from their uniforms and followed. In ten minutes they had reached the brow of the hill. The ceiling of leaves was less dense up here. With surprise they saw that the sky was cloudless. The tree -tops were glistening in the rosy light of the rising sun, which was itself still out of sight beyond the woods. Steiner turned to the right and kept to the ridge, which ran north and south. He had quickened his pace; the men trailed behind, strung out at longer and longer intervals.

Zoll lingered behind to wait for Kern, who came trudging up to him with a sour expression. Last in line, they walked along silently, side by side. They were bowed over by the weight of the heavy boxes of ammunition. Sweat drew grey streaks across their filthy faces. There were burn -spots around the innkeeper’s mouth; Zoll observed his tongue lick out occasionally and moisten the reddened skin. Each time Kern did this, his face twisted in a grimace of pain and resentment.

‘I wouldn’t have stood for that,’ Zoll said.

Kern cursed. ‘You’re the one to talk!’

However, gradually his rage was losing force and conviction. It had been idiotic of him to light that cigarette. It was the act of a green recruit. This thought had been gnawing away at him more than the blow in the face. But this toilsome climb was beginning to wear the edge off his anger. They had really been lucky. A Russian might really have seen the flare of light from his match. He shuddered. What luck, he thought, what a break. His relief made him feel almost light -hearted. If it were not for the burns around his mouth, he would be able to put the episode out of his mind. Again he ran his tongue over his lips. ‘Haven’t you any salve?’ he asked Zoll.

‘Think I’m a beauty shop?’ Zoll replied sulkily.

Kern grinned. ‘Not a chance,’ he said. He liked Zoll no more than the others did. Zoll’s appearance was as unpleasant as his manners. There was something shifty about his face, and his eyes seemed to goggle behind his horn -rimmed glasses.

They walked in silence for a while. ‘I wonder where the devil he’s taking us,’ Zoll said after a while.

Kern tried to see beyond the man in front of them. But the line was now stretched out over a good distance. Steiner was out of sight.

‘There’s something up ahead there,’ Kern said.

‘Where?’

‘There, above the trees.’

Zoll stretched his neck forward. ‘What the hell is it?’ he asked.

‘Must be the pylon of a powerline.’

They quickened their step. Before them, the girders of a huge tower rose out of the trees, and a few yards farther on they came to a cleared ride through the woods. The men had gathered around Steiner, all looking in one direction. Zoll and Kern, when they came up to them, opened their eyes wide with astonishment. Below them was one long downhill slope. At regular intervals the steel pylons rose above the ride. To the west, as far as the eye could reach, all the way to the purple -tinged mountains on the horizon, lay a tremendous forest. The bright, even green of the trees flowed on wholly unbroken; nowhere was there a sign of a clearing, of human habitation. The scene took their breath away. Kern looked in awe at the great forest. ‘Like a sea. A green sea,’ he murmured reverently.

They all were deeply moved and solemn. ‘Anybody got a camera?’ Krüger asked.

Suddenly Anselm cried out: ‘There’s a city over there. See, just to the left of that mountain with the sharp peak.’

‘Yes, yes,’ Krüger said enthusiastically. He turned to Steiner. ‘Do you see it?’

‘I can see it,’ Steiner said quietly. ‘That’s Krymskaya. Where we’re headed for.’

With mixed feelings they eyed the fine cluster of towers and roofs set at the foot of the distant hills as clear, as still, as incisive as a pen sketch. Krüger seemed utterly lost in the sight. After a while he sighed. ‘If only we were there already,’ he said.

‘We’ll make it,’ Dietz said, looking at Steiner with trust. Steiner nodded briefly. ‘By evening we’ll be there with the others.’

‘The others,’ Krüger murmured. He had a queer feeling in his chest. ‘Funny. I mean,’ he went on in answer to their questioning looks, ‘it’s a funny feeling to know that the rest of the battalion is somewhere out there.’

‘Yes,’ Schnurrbart agreed. Lost in thought, he took his pipe out of his pocket and began packing it. When Steiner sat down and folded his arms over his knees, Schnurrbart looked at him in surprise. ‘What’s up—aren’t we going on?’

‘We can spare a few more minutes,’ Steiner said. His impatience had suddenly vanished. It would be best to stay right here until the war was over, he thought. Nobody would look for them in this isolated region. But then he remembered that they had no rations with them. He bit his lips. There’s no getting away from it, he thought bitterly, and only then realized how familiar this pattern of emotions was to him. Whenever, after hours of climbing, he came to the top of a mountain and saw the land lying at his feet, his feelings had always been similar. Always in the past the knowledge that he would have to return to ordinary life had spoiled the pleasure of the mountainous solitudes. The tension which had driven him to climb steadily to the summit would snap; nothing would remain but the dull perception that the trivial burdens of existence were inescapable. Wearily, he lit a cigarette and looked at the men, who had all sat down on the ground and were smoking. Schnurrbart’s eyes were fixed upon the oceanic forest below, whose western half was already bathed in the rays of an as yet invisible sun. The mist above the trees shivered with motion and dispelled itself even as he watched. The purple of the distant hills was slowly lightening to blue; the contours of the hills merged imperceptibly with the horizon. The mood he was in alarmed him somehow. This mood was dangerous, he thought; it entered the blood and then there was no getting rid of it. It only made everything harder, the whole damned war, everything. Trying to distract himself, he concentrated on the rifle which lay at his feet. Finally he cleared his throat noisily and turned to Krüger. ‘Weird, isn’t it?’ he said to Krüger.