Wheels of Terror (29 page)

The Old Un held him back.

'Where are they going to do it?'

Peters shrugged his shoulders and pointed to the Russian positions.

'Kraus, the SS fellow, thinks Ivan's behind us and that the platoon's completely cut off. When your little mob has been made horizontal they'll be off.'

The Little Legionnaire spat out his cigarette.

'Aren't you going with them? Or are you fed up with life?'

Peters looked at him through slit eyes. He said inscrutably:

'I don't care about life much, but I don't like murder.'

'Then you ought to have kept away from here and gone into a monastery,' said Porta. 'In the Eastern Front winter-sport society we deal only with murder. Like this!' he shouted and emptied the magazine of his machine-pistol with a thunder on the ground in front of other members of our platoon farther down the long bunker.

They jumped up, swearing. The SS man grabbed his machine-pistol but let go of it as if it was glowing hot. He was looking into the muzzles of four machine-pistols and one 'stove-pipe'.

'Did it scare you amateurs?' grinned Porta as he flung an empty shell-case in the face of the SS man. He fell backwards with only a grunt.

Porta pointed to some of the others.

'Fetch the swine here.'

Smiling satanically he tore a piece of white cloth from his bread bag and ordered them to sew the patch on the back of the unconscious man.

When the SS man came to, he sat up dazedly and glared at Porta who announced cheerfully:

'You've got a white patch on your back. That's my target. If you get too far away from me your heart'll leave your body with the help of this comforter.'

He patted his machine-pistol expressively.

'If by any chance you lose the patch, you'll be a dead man!'

'Great gun, isn't it?' the Little Legionnaire inquired gently.

Tiny had again been studying the lines of his hand. He jumped up, grabbed Corporal Krosnika, one of the Kraus group of newcomers, by the throat and bashed him against one of the wooden roof supports.

'You bloody goat, did you want to shoot Tiny? You've cut away half my life-line!' Bellowing like a wounded bear, he fumbled for his knife. 'My life, my life, my short life!'

Krosnika kicked and hit out to get free. His face turned slowly purple and his kicks and punches became weaker. If The Old Un had not taken a hand he would have been choked.

With a terrible oath Tiny let go of his prey who fell down half-suffocated between Heide and a former sergeant from the military concentration camp at Torgau.

Porta laughed.

'A small warning, otherwise, bound over to be of good behaviour, as they say in educated circles. You others,' he shouted and swung his machine-pistol menacingly, 'will get your knobs shaved off when we find it suitable. So no monkey-business, see!'

Peters sat with his back to the bunker-wall. In his lap lay a Russian machine-pistol. He sat smoking indifferently.

In a short time the routine relief of sentries fell due. A violent quarrel was started by the SS fellow and Krosnika. They did not want to do sentry-duty, and tried to change with a couple of other men.

The Old Un suddenly threw down his cards, rose slowly and pointed at the SS fellow with his pipe.

'You and Krosnika are not going. Heide and Francke will take over.'

Triumph shone in the eyes of the SS man, but it disappeared quickly enough when The Old Un went on:

'You and Krosnika will go across to Ivan's positions and come back with an accurate report of what's going on.'

Calmly he sat down and resumed the interrupted game.

The SS man and Krosnika started muttering.

The Old Un played an ace of spades, gathered in a jack-pot and looked calmly at the pair of them:

'Didn't you hear my orders?'

'It's personal persecution,' shouted the SS man. 'We can't go across to the enemy line without being covered. We object to your order.'

The Old Un leaned against the wall and fingered his P38.

'So you object. Better use your head a little. You who are a volunteer and a party-member. What do you think your Fuhrer would say?'

The SS man leaned threateningly across to The Old Un.

'What do you mean? My Fuhrer. He's yours also, isn't he?'

'You're a little bit slow, my friend.'

Tiny was about to say something, but The Old Un went on:

'You've chosen the Fuhrer voluntarily and are his man, and he's been forced on me. Anyhow, perhaps you've never heard about the special courts?'

'Don't try to threaten me with that,' jeered the SS man. 'You need to be at least a company commander to convene one.'

'You seem very sure. Don't you know we're cut off from the others, and that a leader of a detail like this can convene a special court when he suspects danger to the detail in the form of a meeting, treason or objections to orders. I can mount a special court for you any time and place I like.' The Old Un banged his fist on the ammunition-box. 'Get out, or Tiny and Porta will see you out!'

Without another syllable they swung their weapons over their shoulders and left the bunker.

Tiny passed a bottle of vodka round. When it reached Porta, Tiny said hopefully:

'Doesn't this life-line ever cheat you?'

'Never, it's dead certain,' was Porta's sad answer. He looked pityingly at Tiny's deeply concerned face. His delight was great when he discovered that the Little Legionnaire's hand too had a short life-line and became quite dotty when he found that the Little Legionnaire's line was even shorter than his.

'You'll march to the muck-heap before Tiny!' he bawled.

The Little Legionnaire looked long and searchingly into Tiny's face. Tiny had become quite exalted and drank greedily from the vodka bottle.

'Allah's ways are inscrutable but true,' mumbled the Little Legionnaire loud enough for Tiny to hear. 'I'll get into Allah's garden. You who are an infidel will go to hell's terrible suffering and corruption.' With a motherly hand he patted Tiny's head. 'We'll pray for you, poor infidel, who'll have to suffer untold horrors when somebody in Allah's good time sticks a knife into your back.'

Tiny had the bottle half-way to his mouth and stared at the sinisterly friendly Little Legionnaire.

'Oh, shut up with all this spooky talk. Do you really believe in all this this cock about heaven and hell?'

The Little Legionnaire nodded seriously.

'There is only one God, the true one, Allah, and he knows how to sort the ewes from the rams.'

Tiny looked frightenedly round him, and leaned over to the Little Legionnaire while he nervously picked his nose.

'Tell me, pal, how'll I get into Allah's garden?'

The Little Legionnaire smiled a tired and hopeless smile.

'It'll be very difficult for you, my friend. Much will be demanded before you'll be let in. Oh, Allah is great!'

With hearty conviction Tiny said: 'Oh, to hell with that! Just tell Tiny what he'll have to do to wing it to Paradise. Of two evils you pick the lesser, don't you?' he asked Porta.

Porta nodded in his serious agreement.

Tiny stared at him a moment.

'Are you holy? Will you land in Allah's garden?'

'Of course,' answered Porta. 'I've seen to that a long time ago. I'm no idiot. For God Almighty's sake, what if one were shot this minute and had to endure the eternal tortures of hell.'

Tiny asked every one of us if we were holy.

Everyone convincingly averred his holiness.

Almost weeping he addressed the Little Legionnaire.

'My God! Tiny'll go all alone to this bloody hell you talk so much about. If only one of you would come along it wouldn't be so bad. But all alone I'll never stand it. There's no justice. You'll have to help me, pal. Tiny'll do anything you wish to make his peace with Allah.'

The Little Legionnaire looked sternly at him.

'Are you sure you'll do everything?'

'Yes, yes,' Tiny said, nodding furiously. Hope shone in his desperate face.

'Good. You'll have to forgive your enemies. Can you do that?'

'Easy,' cried Tiny and grabbed the Little Legionnaire. 'I'll forgive you all the evil things you've done to me.'

'Me?' groaned the surprised Little Legionnaire, when he was released.

'Yes, you,' beamed Tiny. 'Up to two minutes ago you were my arch-enemy.' He searched his pockets and gave the Little Legionnaire a small bag of white powder. 'That's rat poison. I was going to put it in your beer on Victory Day because you were my enemy - you kicked me on the head and broke my nose.'

'Bloody hell,' burst out the Little Legionnaire and stared at the happy Tiny.

'Do you know?' Tiny had it all worked out. 'You were first just to have a peep at the Tommies when they marched through the Brandenburger Tor.'

'The Tommies?' asked Stege, astonished.

'Yes, who else? They'll win the war.'

Tiny turned to the Little Legionnaire again.

'When you were going to the pub with us to celebrate the Tommies' victory and were sitting dreaming about your life among the tarts in the Moroccan whore-boxes, you were to jump off your chair like a mad cat that's sat on a red-hot stove. This mecidine would have taken you ten minutes to conk out. But you needn't worry now. Tiny's forgiven you!'

The Little Legionnaire nodded in a friendly way.

'Good. I've accepted your confession. But, as you haven't a lot of time, you'll have to pay a fine.'

'What the hell's that?' asked Tiny suspiciously.

'All your booze and tobacco must be handed over to me to convince Allah you've repented your evil plans against a faithful and loyal comrade-in-arms.'

Tiny was about to protest but was warned: 'Remember hell's terrible torture and hand over the prescribed fine.'

'Have you any other evil tricks up your sleeve? You'll have to confess now to get complete absolution.'

Tiny shook his head.

'What? Haven't you committed any atrocities?' shouted Porta.

'No, never,' said Tiny. 'I've always lived a peaceful and quiet life and faithfully performed my daily job.'

'Well, I'm damned! If that's so I must be super-good and as pious as the holy Anthony himself!'

'Now think well,' the Little Legionnaire admonished. 'It would be very sad if within half-an-hour you were playing "Rocking-horse" on the lap of the Evil One and sneezing in the sulphur-steam.'

Tiny shook his head, glared, rose and kicked a steel-helmet over the head of Corporal Freytag who jumped up furiously while Tiny screamed in a frenzy:

'Sit down, or I'll cut your throat and take you with me to hell. I won't be lonely ...' He stopped frightened, and looked imploringly at the Little Legionnaire.

'What do you want to know, pal?'

'I don't want to know anything. It's Allah.' He salaamed piously and mumbled: '
Allah-akbar!
'

'Now tell us calmly what you've been up to in your thirty years of wicked life,' Bauer said severly.

Tiny drew a deep breath. He wanted to fight somebody and played thoughtfully with his combat-knife.

Porta was ready to crown him with a hand-grenade.

Tiny perspired.

'Blimey, it's hard to become holy. Well, well! Let me get going. I kicked a stupid clot in the stomach and he died. But that's a long time ago. And he was a real cretin, a piece of muck, a dirty swine.'

'Why did you kick him?' the Little Legionnaire asked curiously. 'You're usually so calm.'

'I can't rightly remember.'

Tiny tried hard to get away from the awkward question, but the Little Legionnaire was merciless.

'Did he die shortly after your kick or suffer for a long time?'

Tiny dried his forehead with his rifle-rag and so covered his face with dirty oil.

'That Franz was a scoundrel. He would have been hanged in any case.'

Tiny was becoming solemn. 'By God, I did society a service by kicking the stupid swine. He was No. 1 enemy of the world. He cheated the tarts of their money.' Delighted with this idea, he went on: 'Yes, that's why I kicked him. By God, that's why! Fancy cheating a hard-working whore. It was my duty to do something.'

Tiny brushed his hands together and looked happily around.

'Tiny, you're lying,' interrupted the Little Legionnaire sternly. 'Do you want to go to hell all alone? Thirst always among the greedy flames? Load the Devil's heavy mortars all day long?'

Tiny licked his dry lips and was about to take a swing from his bottle when he remembered he had given the Little Legionnaire the contents. He wrung his hands and groaned loudly.

'To think that swine's got me into this situation! But it was his own fault things went as they did. He cheated me. He'd promised me all the beer I could drink, and when I politely asked him to honour his word he became cheeky and hit me here.' Tiny pointed to his left ear. 'And it hurt, so you see it was a sort of self-defence. I had to go on parade with a dirty belt and that rotten animal, Sergeant Paust, had me in the book for it. And there were other things that bloody Franz had promised to do, too. But I don't bear him any grudge any longer.'

'You mean he didn't want to pay for your beer when you tried to force him. And he wouldn't be your slave?' said the Little Legionnaire brutally.

'Now, it's not necessary to say it like that. It sounds so bad.'

'Was it like that or not? Allah sees everything. Allah hears everything.'

'All right, if that's the way you want it, he was a rotten animal, a paralysed ox, a castrated ram who did no good.'

The Little Legionnaire raised his hand.

'What you said just now, I take as a personal insult, Tiny, my former arch-enemy, my present friend. Will you give me a bottle of vodka in fines?'

Tiny nodded silently.

'You'll have to give two. Go on with your explanation.'

Tiny swallowed painfully, roughed up his wild hair and pulled at his collar.

'Franz would certainly have been hanged if he had survived. I couldn't help it that he fell out of the window and hit a stake in the flower-bed.'

The Little Legionnaire shook his head.

'This is a grim tale.'

Tiny looked nervously at him. 'You don't think Allah will throw me to hell for that little episode? I give you my word of honour ...'