Wheels of Terror (30 page)

Porta hooted at Tiny's solemn mouthing of the word honour.

Tiny looked reproachfully at him.

'You needn't laugh, Porta. I'll tell you that my word of honour is something holy for me, and I give you my word of honour that Franz was a scoundrel Allah would have turned away from in disgust.'

The Little Legionnaire pointed accusingly at Tiny.

'You'll get your absolution, but it'll cost nine litres of vodka or good German liquor.'

'And where the hell will I get it?' shouted Tiny.

'You'll find it, and in a hurry. Remember your short lifeline,' the Little Legionnaire answered implacably.

'As you wish. You'll have it.' He spat in his palms and looked at the rest of the section. 'You bloody insects will all soon be heavily taxed by Tiny, you life-line thieves!'

This interesting development in Tiny's spiritual odyssey was interrupted by the SS man and Krosnika who came running into the bunker.

'Ivan's gone! There's not a soul left in the trenches. We heard engine noises and trucks rattling on the road. It's T34s and they're behind us!'

The SS man stopped to catch his breath.

The Old Un looked calmly at him.

'Did you expect them to ask us when they were going to chase our units?'

'Oh, shut up, I'm not an idiot,' hissed the SS man furiously. 'We've got to run for it or we're trapped.'

'Run? That's the second time you've given us talk of that sort,' jeered The Old Un. 'You fellows are heroes of another sort when you shout "Heil!" back home. I hope it's clear to you that I give the orders here. Maybe I've decided to follow the advice of your crazy Fuhrer and fight to the last man and bullet.'

The SS man nearly exploded with indignation.

'You call our Fuhrer crazy? I'll take a note of that!'

'I hope you will,' sneered The Old Un. 'But answer me this: Do you want us to fight to the last man and bullet?
You
can decide whether we follow the Fuhrer's orders or not: die in battle or save our lives!'

The SS man shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He opened and shut his mouth but not a syllable was heard.

'I take it your silence means we're going to fight. Follow your Fuhrer. Well, get out on the road with that "stove-pipe" Pluto's got there. Krosnika and Heide will carry the ammunition. You'll fight the T34s at once, and ruin as many as you can before you're crushed by the tracks.'

'This is nonsense,' burst out the SS man.

'
You
say that - a former member of Adolf's SS? Well then, you agree that Adolf's crazy - a blood-thirsty maniac!'

Tiny's voice cut through the conversation.

'Let me see your hand, you dope!'

Before the SS man could answer, Tiny grabbed it.

'Hm, you've a short life-line, you mongrel. Get out on the road or it'll be even shorter!'

The Old Un chuckled.

'All right, we agree to save our lives despite the Fuhrer's orders? It's always easier to fight to the last breath when you can't see Ivan or hear his T34s.' He turned to Pluto and me: 'You two and Heide will go up the road and see if we can get across. That's our only chance.'

He unfolded the map on the ammunition-box. With interest we followed his dirty finger as it traced the way he thought we could escape.

'It looks a bit large, all that green,' said Stege. 'Is it all jungle?'

'Yes,' answered The Old Un, 'and most of it is swampy.'

Swearing, the three of us started through the forest. Heide dragged the 'stove-pipe'.

The rain streamed from the steel-helmets down our backs. The belts rubbed. We shivered in the wet uniforms. Our feet sank knee-deep in the mud and the water seeped into our boots. Every step was torture.

Pluto swore loudly and volubly.

'You bloody well shut up,' hissed Heide. 'You'll have Ivan here with all that shouting.'

Pluto raised his machine-pistol threateningly.

'Shut up yourself, you rat. Don't forget we've got accounts to settle. If Ivan comes, we'll tell him all about your bloody acts.'

'To think a dirty Black Sea farmer can get you all so het up. How thin-skinned you are! Anyway, it was all a mistake on my part.'

Pluto stopped.

'A mistake!' he shouted. It boomed through the wet forest. 'You bloody cow, you stinking muck-heap, just wait and I'll cut your loud-speaker for you. Then you can talk about mistakes with the blood pumping up your throat.'

'Put a sock in it, Pluto,' I tried to mediate. 'Leave that idiot alone. Shoot him or let him go to hell.'

'It's got nothing to do with you, you Fahnenjunker-boy. Don't get on your high horse with Pluto. Do you think I'm afraid?' He swung his machine-pistol over his head and roared into the darkness: 'Hey, Ivan, bloody curs, Stalin-craps, come and get an informer-swine, Unteroffizier Heide! Hey, Iva-a-a-n-n!'

Heide let go the 'stove-pipe' and ran as fast as his legs would carry him.

'Take care you don't fall and hurt your head,' Pluto shouted after him.

I collected the 'stove-pipe' and we went on silently through the forest. The branches whipped us wetly in the face.

'What a muck-war,' hissed Pluto. 'Panzer soldiers running round like "foot-rag acrobats". God, what a monkey forest, not a damn thing to be seen.'

'I wish you'd shut up. Write to Stalin or Adolf and complain!'

'Oh, bloody funny!' Pluto snarled.

Then suddenly the road appeared in front of us. Tightly packed columns of Russian infantry wrapped in capes marched past. Huge trucks and gun-carriages thundered westwards. Here and there Aldis lights winked short signals.

'We'll never get across this,' whispered Pluto. 'Let's get away before the swine see us.'

Noiselessly we disappeared.

Astonishment was great when we stepped into the bunker. Heide tried to get away, but a kick from Pluto sent him across to Tiny and Porta.

'We thought you were on your way to Berlin,' growled Pluto. 'You're a good runner. This little mistake is called cowardice in the face of the enemy according to military law. Just you wait.'

Heide was white as a sheet. He shook with fright as he sat between Tiny and Porta. They were eagerly engaged discussing how best to dismember a pig.

The Old Un rose quietly when he had listened to our report. He pointed to Heide.

'We'll deal with you later. Let's get cracking. We've to get across that road - and before daybreak.'

I threw the 'stove-pipe' at Heide.

'Here, and don't lose it!'

In single file we started off. Thorns and climbing plants laced themselves round us as if to keep us back. The rain became a veritable cloud-burst.

The Old Un and Stege got down near the road. The rest of the platoon sought cover a little way behind in the dense undergrowth.

Porta was lying there unconcernedly with his top-hat covering his face. The cat sheltered under his coat. It looked extremely sorry for itself with its drenched fur.

'It's no bloody fun being a soldier,' he mumbled to the cat, 'is it?'

Tiny sat tailor-wise on the wet ground beside the Little Legionnaire exploring the possibilities of his advent to heaven.

Pluto had hung up his groundsheet and was playing patience.

Two men quarrelled over a cigarette-end. They sounded like Bauer and Krosnika.

Stege came silently across to us.

'Ready lads? We're off. We're going up on the road to march along nicely with Ivan until we can see our way to escape to the other side. The Old Un's hoping they won't discover what kind of army we are!'

'It'll never come off,' said Bauer. 'Marching along hand in hand with Ivan! For heaven's sake, let's get away from here.'

The Old Un stood up calmly and signalled us to move.

The gravel crunched under our boots as we marched up on the road.

Barely a yard away from us a Russian infantry company marched past. We hardly dared to look at them. They might read the fright in our faces.

Porta cheekily started whistling a Russian soldier's song, and invisible forms in the darkness fell in.

Slowly The Old Un edged over to the middle of the road. We were nearly across when a voice shouted:

'Keep right, keep right!'

We jumped like grasshoppers to the right as a panzer column went racing by.

A figure leaned out of a car and swore at us for marching in the middle of the road.

It spat a puddle of mud at us in farewell.

The Old Un again started to pull us towards the left side and soon we were standing in the undergrowth.

Porta slapped his thighs in delight.

'That's a good one! Told off by a Russky colonel for not marching nicely on the side. He'd wet his pants if someone told him who he'd sworn at.'

'Don't laugh too soon,' warned Bauer. 'We aren't through yet.'

'How far is it to Orcha?' asked Stege.

'Seventy-five miles,' answered The Old Un. 'Through swamps and forests. More like 200 miles of ordinary road.'

At dawn we reached the swamp. Exhausted we threw ourselves down in the mud. We were only half aware of Pluto's quarrelling with the SS man.

'You're a louse!' shouted Pluto. 'Fancy volunteering - do you enjoy murder? Nazi-bug, clean my boots.' He put a dirty boot under his enemy's nose. 'Lick the muck off or I'll choke you!'

'You dirty vermin,' cried the SS man and went for Pluto.

He kicked and bit desperately. The great red scar left by Pluto's amputated ear was opened and the blood welled down his neck and shoulder.

Tiny made short work of the fight by hammering the butt of his machine-pistol on the head of the SS man. Gurgling he fell down with a large wound in his head.

Pluto fought for breath. Tiny kicked the SS man in the groin. With every kick he swore long and sulphurously.

We all looked on with complete indifference.

The Old Un ordered us to march on. Someone asked what to do about the unconscious SS man.

'Kick his face in,' Porta said. 'Or leave him to rot.'

The whole day we waded in water sometimes up to our shoulders or jumped from tuft to tuft in the sagging swamp.

An eighteen-year-old recruit misjudged his jump and landed with a cry in the sticky substance. Only bubbles showed where he had disappeared.

By late afternoon we reached fairly firm ground.

Porta stumbled, and the flame-thrower shot away from him.

A little later The Old Un ordered a rest.

Cross and angry, we threw ourselves down and fell at once into a trance-like sleep. Slowly the rest of the platoon reached us, dragging their feet.

We had been resting for about a couple of hours when Pluto jumped up with his machine-pistol at the ready.

At once we were all alert. Without a sound the 'stovepipe' was brought into position and a shell rammed into the breech.

Two figures appeared from among the trees.

To our astonishment we saw the SS man and Krosnika. We dropped our arms and lay down again.

Stege's voice broke the silent forest darkness.

'Didn't you have the mortar with you?'

We half sat up, instantly on guard. There was a threat in the air.

Krosnika breathed heavily.

'Didn't you hear the question?' hissed Porta. 'Where's the mortar?'

'What's it got to do with you?' said the Torgau corporal. 'You aren't the platoon commander.'

'Where the hell did you spring from?' shouted Pluto.

'Balls to you!' answered the corporal.

Throaty animal-noises came from the darkness.

'Stay where you are, Pluto,' shouted The Old Un sharply. 'I'm not having any more scrapping. Krosnika, go for the mortar at once and don't come back without it.'

Krosnika disappeared among the tree-trunks. We lay quietly and listened to his footsteps.

'We'll never see him again,' whispered Bauer.

Nobody bothered to answer.

Three hours later The Old Un ordered us to move on.

The boots hurt. The belts and straps rubbed. Steel-helmets were thrown away, followed by gas-masks and their containers.

From a steep hill we could see an enormous green landscape stretching before us. It looked as if we were in the middle of a huge green ocean.

The Old Un permitted only half-an-hour's rest. Then we chopped our way through the dense undergrowth with entrenching tools and axes. Our small quantity of rations was soon finished.

Hungry and thirsty we fought our way forward. Wild quarrels took place continually. The smallest remark was regarded as a dirty insult. The Old Un alone was calmly collected. He walked along smoking his antique pipe. His machine-pistol bounced from his shoulder. From time to time he consulted map and compass.

Porta managed to shoot a fox and a big hare. Both were eaten raw. We did not dare to make a fire. The smoke might betray us. The fox-meat was rubbed in onion to take away the nauseating smell. But, smell or no smell, everything was eaten to the last sinew.

Several of the men dropped behind. We tried only cursorily to get them moving, and then went on without looking back at the sobbing friend who implored us for a minute's rest.

Some caught up with us at our brief resting-places. The Torgau corporal ran beserk when we stopped at a water-hole. He suddenly threw himself at Porta and gave him a long cut in one cheek and a deep wound in the arm.

Tiny and Pluto parted them. Tiny knocked the corporal out. Porta drew his knife and was about to gash the corporal when The Old Un stopped him.

'Let him be. We're going.'

Pluto nodded silently, bent over the unconscious man, took his weapons, spat at him and then plunged on.

Stege marked the trees every five hundred yards so that those who were left behind could follow.

On the fourth day we reached a narrow forest road clearly marked by horse-and-cart tracks.

... They stood leaning against a tree. Two small men dressed in brown with machine-pistols hanging by their sides. The wind carried a faint odour of machorka to us.

At once we became killers, twentieth-century cave-men.

Silently we crouched in the grass and snaked along. A small watercourse afforded us much wanted cover.

Nearer, sure of our prey, we crept. Porta winked at Pluto who settled himself in readiness behind a tuft. He bent the grass aside to make a clear field of fire.