The Division of the Damned (20 page)

He couldn’t remember much after they had found the book, but he sometimes had vague flashbacks of hinged swords, sex with Iullia and huge dogs.
All very peculiar and most disconcerting.

Could it get any worse, he asked himself.
Surely not.
However, he was dreadfully wrong. That night Oberscharführer Müller and his cronies came for him as he slept. Five of them raided his cell carrying truncheons. They dragged him from his bed and beat him pitilessly until he was knocked out cold. They woke him with a bucket of cold water and started over again, this time concentrating more on the stomach and kidneys to prolong consciousness.

When they were finished, Müller knelt on his chest to discharge his fermented threats into Smith’s face. Battered and exhausted, with one eye closed and a nose and mouth that seemed to have grown into each other, Smith didn’t have the energy to turn his face from the German’s sour bluster, and so he lay under him and endured the spittle shower.

His head was pounding, his ribs seemed to be stabbing his lungs and the dull ache of fractures pulsed through his arms and hands. He knew what Müller had said. His German was non-existent but the message was clear and Smith prayed with his whole heart that he was wrong.

Chapter 24

Transylvania

They had spent nearly a fortnight learning to ride horses. Von Struck, Rohleder, Gruhn and Nau could already ride so they had travelled with Smith to Dachau. Henning, Muschinski and Grand were left behind to prepare for the coming months in the field with the
c
ount’s men. Though Schneiderat could ride, he had stayed with Rasch simply because there was no need for so many men to accompany Smith up to Dachau.

Rasch, who had been forced to learn to ride by his outdoors loving father as a child, taught them how to saddle and ride their mounts and how to take the due care and attention of a horse in the field.

Fortunately, the 22nd SS C
avalry
D
ivision was due to be stationed in Hungary as part of the coercive force sent to ensure Hungary’s sustained collaboration. Rasch telephoned Himmler to request mounts and the appropriate tack for the troop and suggested raiding the 22nd’s stores.

Himmler had been beside himself as Rasch told him of the plan to teach the men to ride and had approved the request on the spot. His imagination running riot, he envisaged the Bolshevik hordes being vanquished by mounted SS by daylight and night stalking vampires during the hours of darkness. The 22nd Cavalry Division was due in Mar
ch but Himmler had the saddles
—
the old Armeesattel 25 models w
ith the new issue saddle bags
—
sent down with the special SS issue Cavalry webbing for the men. The M1934 saddle bags were situated behind the saddle and held all the equipment they would need to be self-sufficient in the field for a number of days.

The supplies for the vampires came in on the train with the first prisoners. The first lessons were given a day later.

Andreas Schnei
derat picked for
himself
a five-year-
old brown mare called Stephanie. She had a long fringe, huge eyes and long lashes that batted at him almost seductively when he patted her neck. The stable boy, who knew a horse expert when he saw one, had nodded approval at his choice. Andreas had been very careful in his selection of a mount, knowing only too well that the choice of horse could well be a matter of life and death in the months to come.

By the time Von Struck had returned from Dachau, the whole squad could ride and look after their mounts. He had yet to pick a horse for himself but he had no special needs unlike Henning, who, as Rohleder pointed out, needed a draft horse just for his rations, so he let Schneiderat pick one out for him.

Their first patrol as a troop was like a schoolboy's outing. Nau and
Gruhn had raced each other for a crate of Astra beer, to be bought on their return to Germany, only to be beaten by Berndt Grand and his huge gelding, Tiger. Rohleder had named his mount after the madam who ran a field brothel outside of Kiev, Madam Le Peau. The joke that Rohleder was finally getting a free ride from Madam La Peau after all
these years as a loyal customer
had them laughing for over a half an hour. Even Rasch seemed affected by the liberty and pleasure they experienced on that, the first of a thousand patrols. The sinister cobwebs of that January morning in the barracks, and Jurgen Muntner’s transformation, were all but forgotten for the few hours it took to ride their route.

Von Struck rode a white mare called Aphrodite. She was, he had been told, even-tempered, swift when the need arose and, above all, experienced in battle. The stables had acquired her from the famed Romanian Calarasi Regiment and she had seen service at the sharp end of the Russian guns.

While the men raced and amused themselves on the patrol, Von Struck thought back to the Englander they had transported to Dachau. His dealings with the British were limited to the few prisoners he had met and the English teacher at his school. He felt no hatred towards his enemy but he was curious as to what he was doing here. Although he hadn’t asked the circumstances of his capture, Von Struck felt that the man ha
d somehow been betrayed by the c
ount, or Maria, or both.

Rasch had called him in and shown him the unconscious Smith on the bed. His face and body were ripped as if from an animal's claws and tubes ran from his arm into a suspended bottle at his side. However, it wasn’t his wounds that shocked Von Struck the
most,
it was the expression on his face.

His features were frozen in an articulation of sustained horror. It was as if he were caught in the middle of a scream and transformed into stone. The expression told Von Struck everything he needed to know about what the Englishman had endured.

Rasch appeared calm and untouched by the man’s soundless anguish.

"He’s
a spy, Markus. He is also the c
ount’s brother. Maria has assured me that he will be ready to travel tomorrow, though I must admit that I find that hard to believe myself.”

Rasch looked once again at Smith, shook his head and carried on,

”He is to be transported to Dachau and delivered to the
camp authorities for processing
—
”

The word 'processing' suggested unsaid, dire nuances to Von Struck.

"Do you speak English, Markus?" he enquired.

"Yes, well, school English, why?”

"Do not make any attempt at conversation with this man. Just deliver him to the camp and come back to continue your mission.”

"And what exactly is my mission here, Herr Doctor? It seems that we’ve accomplished all that we came to do, and more. Is there something the Reichsführer SS forgot to mention at my briefing?”

Rasch deliberated for a second before speaking. "You, that
is
you and your squad, w
ill go into the field with the c
ount’s men. By night, they will carry on with their role of spreading mayhem and panic behind Russian lines. By day they will rest and hide. It is your ta
sk to provide security for the c
ount’s men during their rest phase. You will be mounted on horses provided by Count Blestamatul
.
I take it you ride, Markus?”

"I do, but I’m not sure of the men.”

”A minor problem.
Take with you three men who can already ride and the rest will stay here to learn. On your return you can take your men out on horseback and hopefully, within two weeks, you’ll be killing Communists for the Fatherland again.” Rasch endowed on Von
Struck
one of his abysmal smiles in an attempt to convey his good will, and turned to stalk out.

Von Struck looked at the Smith
again. The resemblance to the c
ount, apart from the hair colour, was uncanny. There was no doubting the kinship. The wounds were dry and slowly healing but, thought Von Struck, the scars of what he had endured would be much worse inside.

The next day, as pledged, Smith was waiting for them at the main door with Maria. He was pale and the welts on his face looked raw and brittle in the frosty air, but he stood erect and, Von Struck thought, somehow angrily resolute. Of the terror he had born as he lay comatose there was no sign.

He had spoken with Maria and walked to the horse that one of the faceless minions who worked the stables had brought for him. The plan was to ride on horseback to the train station and from there with the Reichsbahn up to Dachau.

"Boss, he looks as bad as I do,” whispered Rohleder.

"Let’s just get him to Dachau and get back," Von Struck answered curtly and rode towards Smith.

"Good day, Englishman. My name is Standartenführer Von Struck. I will accompany you to Germany. I will dispense with the handcuffs but if you prove difficult, we will have to use them. Are you going to be difficult?”

Smith smiled sardonically and shook his head
.
"No, I’ve had enough intrigue and mystery to serve me a lifetime. At least in a concentration camp I’ll know who my enemies are.” He looked pointedly at Maria and back to Von Struck. Von Struck nodded to Rohleder and the five of them cantered off.

The journey up had been uneventful and Smith had spent most of his time in silent contemplation, which only provided more fodder for Von Struck’s curiosity. He almost asked him what he was doing in Transylvania but decided against it. If Rohleder, Nau and Gruhn saw him talking to the prisoner, there would be no holding back. Rohleder, despite his lowly grade, was an accomplished linguist and a relentless prattler. Von Struck had emphatically ordered him not to try his English out on the prisoner because the sooner he learnt German, the better it would be for him.

The infamous gates of Dachau loomed before them. The guards, polished and clockwork, marched out in a squad to meet them. Although the concentration camp guards were held to high standards of discipline, their brutality to the prisoners was ignored and often encouraged. It was deemed long ago that the camps always ran better with a healthy undercurrent of violence coursing through the daily routine.

Von Struck hated them. In his eyes they were the base product of a system that sought after the weakest of enemies to validate its own authority. The men themselves were only human and, regardless of how decent any of them once
were,
the constant brutality towards the prisoners and the absolute power of life and death wield
ed by the guards
corrupted even the most dutiful of soldiers
.

As the guards approached, Rohleder began to whistle the theme tune to 'Laurel and Hardy' to the timing of their step. Nau laughed out loud until Von Struck turned and silenced him with a scowl.

The lead guard approached Von Struck and, noting his officer's rank, shot his arm up
.
"Heil Hitler!”

Von Struck s
aluted back and nodded to Smith.
"Here’s your charge and here’s the paperwork. It’s all in order. Where’s the nearest canteen?”

"You passed the SS barracks on the way here,
s
ir. There’s an Officers' Mess and an Ordinary Ranks' canteen there, Herr Standartenführer,” the NCO replied with a snap.

"Every
thing in order, Oberscharführer
—
”
H
e looked at the name tag
.
"
C
… Müller?”

The guard nodded.

"Then we’ll leave you to it."

Von Struck turned to Rohleder
.
"Let’s go find something to eat. I’m famished.”

As they walked off they heard the NCO giving orders to Smith.

"I hope he doesn’t expect the Tommy to understand him
…”
He let it trail off as they heard a smack and then someth
ing
fall
to the ground. They spu
n around in unison to see the NCO laid out on the floor and the other three guards kicking the curled-up figure of Smith.

Nau took a step forward in a reflexive move towards them, but Von Struck pulled him back with one arm and strode past him to the scuffle.

"Now they’re in for it," Rohleder muttered.

"What in hell’s name do you think you’re doing, you gutless bunch of imbeciles?” They stopped the beating and froze in position.

"Stand to fucking attention when a senior officer gives you a bollocking, you spineless idiots!”

They sprang to attention at the sight of his anger; faces creased with worry and confusion.

"This prisoner is a member of the Romanian nobility and he will be treated as such, do you understand me?" They were too pre-occupied with the thought of going on report to answer, and Von Struck had to shout the question again to illicit a response.

"Jawohl!"

"Oberscharführer!”

The NCO was now on his feet and marched one step forward to answer, "Yes,
s
ir!”