Iron Gustav

by Hans Fallada

  ‘Yes, Herr Lieutenant, sir.’

  (Irma and Bubi exchanged a lightning-quick glance. So here, in this quiet house, he was a lieutenant. But outside all were equal, even if you had to force equality into them!)

  ‘Listen, Radtke. Everything been quiet down here?’

  ‘Haven’t seen or heard anything, Herr Lieutenant.’

  ‘See that the chauffeur and the watchman have their food at once, Radtke, and then all three of you can keep watch in turns. And have the weapons in readiness.’

  ‘Yes, Herr Lieutenant.’

  Radtke went, and the future ministerial secretary threw himself back into the chair. ‘Last night some of the villas round here were looted,’ he explained. ‘That’s what they call rounding-up hoarders, but it’s all done by criminals and deserters who haven’t failed to notice that the police are a little disorganized at the moment.’

  ‘It wouldn’t do at all if it happened here, would it, Erich?’ laughed Heinz. ‘Seeing that you’re responsible for the public security of Berlin.’

  ‘Me? Don’t talk rot. Oh, you mean because of my room in the Reichstag? Well, they had to smuggle me in somehow, you know. Otherwise anybody might come in and ask for a room.’ He laughed. And – was it because of the schnapps? – his visitors also considered him witty and joined in the laughter.

  Erich jumped up again. ‘Come along, children. Before we eat I’ll show you my little dwelling. It’s going to be wonderful. To call it mine is a bit of an exaggeration perhaps – only the bills belong to me at present. But we’ll fix that up all right even without Father; up to now we’ve always fixed up everything.’

  With the pride of the possessor he led the way and they had to see everything; nothing was omitted, neither the broom closet nor the lion in green pottery of the Ming period. Only once did his brow cloud and that was when, from a window on the first floor, they saw a big lorry tear past. In it were machine-guns and the vague figures of armed men.

  Ought he to phone the police? No, better not burn his fingers. As long as the lightning struck somewhere else … ‘And now look at this room – simple, modest, austere, masculine (just like me). In short, Roman. Roman, Bubi. Did you do them at school? Or was that one of your failures?’

  The lorry did not go much farther, however. Two or three minutes later it slowed down and two men jumped out. With catlike agility they climbed the telephone poles. ‘Well, they won’t be able to phone now, anyway!’

  The wrought-iron gates were burst open by simply driving the lorry against them. The front door, of course, was locked and heavily bolted, but a trifle like that need detain no one.

  ‘That’s right, Ed! Hand grenade on the door handle and then out with the pin. That’s the way! Won’t take a minute. Eugen, sock your wench one. Give the bitch something to scream for. Crash, bang! Yes, it’s open. Open and in we go. Now for a good time, chums. “Merry is the robber’s life, faria, faria, fa!” Why, here we have the entire family. Good evening, Herr Baron, Herr Count. Have the honour to conduct a little search by order of the Chancellor of the Reich, Herr Ebert. Or it may be Prince Max still – we’re not so particular. Now please don’t bother about the telephone, Herr Count. The post office is so slow. The girls on the exchange like their sleep …’

  ‘Well, ladies and gentlemen, let’s get a little order into things. The ladies are requested to visit the coal cellar together. Don’t scream, you old bitch! Think of my nerves! What made you so fat, then, if it wasn’t hoarding butter while our children were starving? Ed, go with the ladies and see they find the coal cellar. Max, you go with them, too. Max, you watch Ed; Ed, you watch Max. I don’t want either of you in the wine cellar yet. That’ll have to wait till the business end is settled. Off you go!’

  ‘Listen, Eugen, that squalling bitch of yours had better be locked up somewhere for the present. Work first and pleasure afterwards! But come back at once – we want to have a few words with this gentleman about his secret safe and so on. We’ll get it out of him all right …’

  ‘You don’t think so, eh, Herr Baron? Oh, you’ve no idea how smart our Eugen is. You’ll be glad if you’ve got enough money at home to put us in a good humour. Ever felt what it’s like having the barrel of a pistol right on your tonsils and another one up your backside? And then they press both the triggers at the same time – and there’s a click in your guts and the two bullets say: nice day, ain’t it? Well, you’ll soon be finding out about it. Our Eugen can think of funnier things than that – he’s our vest-pocket variety turn …’

  ‘Ah, here you are, Eugen! I was just praising you up to the Count. You’ll be pleased to meet each other. Go ahead, my dear Count! Feel free – do whatever you want. It makes no difference to me. I used to be scared witless, too, but now it’s your turn!’

  ‘Now listen, you others. Go over the whole house with a toothcomb, don’t miss a room and don’t hurry. But leave anything that takes up space – we only want the little things, the valuables, gentlemen. Gold I gave for iron! You’ll find out whether they did or not. And now, Herr Baron, may I ask you to join our little meeting? Please don’t put yourself out – I know the way all right. You wouldn’t have thought, would you, that the electrician who came this morning was me? You see, we’ve met already … Eugen, give the gentleman a little support in the back with your revolver. He seems to find walking difficult …’

  ‘But who is it, Erich? Where on earth did you dig him up?’

  ‘Allow me, Tinette – this is my brother, Heinz and Fräulein – ahem! Yes, my child, here you see in person one of the results of the blockade.’

  ‘It’s not possible! Lord, what expressions! How they keep staring! Well, do come here. What’s your name? Heinz? Oh … Henri! I understand. Henri, let me see you – so you’re so to speak my brother-in-law?’ Antoinette Hullin, from the city of Lille, couldn’t stop laughing. For Heinz, quite apart from his impossible suit, was standing there looking unbelievably foolish and young. And stared at this girl – at this woman with widely staring eyes. He had never seen a woman like this before; he could not have believed that such existed. He knew only the sallow, exhausted women of wartime; or their daughters, hardly developed and already faded, with poor complexions, wrinkled skins. Here, however, was a face pink and white, smiling lips (such lips!), gleaming teeth (such teeth!), and hair shining as though set with stars … To look at her low-cut dress was to become giddy … And this was a human being, someone like oneself, not artificial, not a work of art, but living, just like oneself – and laughing …

  ‘Erich, how he stares! Haven’t you ever seen a pretty woman before? Come closer, Henri, and kiss my hand. That’s what they do at home – don’t they here? No, not like that, Henri. Fi donc, you mustn’t drag the lady’s hand up to your mouth. No, bend down. Lower! Yes, bend your neck, no harm in that. A man’s even allowed to kneel before a beautiful woman, isn’t that so, Erich?’

  ‘And this is a friend of Heinz. Fräulein … er …’

  ‘Quaas is my name.’

  ‘Kaas! But that’s an impossible name! Oh, Erich, now I understand why you insisted on me coming to Berlin with you – if that’s what they call a girlfriend here. Yes, we’re coming, Radtke. No, Erich, tonight Henri must sit by me and I’ll feed him. The poor boy! He has certainly never eaten his fill in his life. What would you like, Henri? Some soup? Oh, don’t have soup; it only fills you up … wait till the meat comes.’

  ‘It’s really charming, Tinette, the way you’re looking after Heinz. You’re positively spoiling him.’

  ‘But I never saw such a lad – he’s impossible. Oh, Henri, you haven’t even got cuffs on. Henri, a gentleman always wears cuffs. And your fingernails!’

  Heinz turned crimson. ‘I’m not a gentleman. I’m only a schoolboy. And I’ve got no cuffs – my father’s only a cab driver.’ He had to say it. It was letting Erich down, but just because of Erich he had to.

  ‘What is your father, Henri? Say it again! Cab driver? But your father is also Erich’s f
ather, isn’t he?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Oh, Erich, Erich!’ She burst out laughing. ‘What a boaster you are, Erich. I always knew you were. But I didn’t know you were quite such a boaster.’

  ‘Allow me, Tinette …’

  ‘Erich, don’t interrupt! He told me his father had a stable, a racing stable I thought, and an immense fortune … I kept on wondering why we didn’t visit this legendary father. Oh dear, I grew so uneasy. You’re not good enough, Tinette, I told myself; you were a dancer once in a cheap cabaret. You’re not fine enough for the – cab driver.’ Another peal of melodious laughter.

  ‘Tinette, Tinette! Please stop that idiotic laughing. Let me tell you, Tinette—’

  ‘He wants to go on bragging again. Oh! Cab driver!’

  ‘Tinette, do listen! Heinz will confirm I only learned half an hour ago that my father was absolutely broke. Go on, Heinz.’

  ‘That’s true. Erich thought—’

  ‘And the stable? The racing stable? Oh, Erich!’

  ‘Pardon me, Tinette, it was you who imagined the racing stable. All I said was a stable. And when I left for the war Father had thirty horses. Isn’t that so, Heinz?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Thirty horses! Thirty carriage horses! But Henri is sweet. Henri says at once: “My father’s a cab driver.” As if one loved a man because of his father! Erich, you silly, stop pulling faces. I have to laugh – who’s going to pay your bills now?’

  She glanced round the dining room, brilliant with crystal and silver, looked at her guests and, her eyes sparkling, threw her arms, her beautiful bare arms, round Erich’s neck. ‘My poor Erich – my poor, ambitious boy! Does it worry you so much that your father is so poor? You’ll see, I’ll turn away your creditors, they shan’t bother you a bit. I’ll so enchant them with my smile that you won’t hear the word bill mentioned.’ With her head against Erich’s, bewitchingly roguish, she looked across at Heinz – no, Henri …

  ‘And you shall become something big, my Erich. Yes, you shall indeed, something absolutely great. When you go past, people will take off their hats and soldiers will present arms: “Here comes Erich.” We’ll see that you become something terrific, a minister or higher than that even – we won’t let anyone notice that you’re only a silly boy.’

  She soothed and lulled him, all the while looking at Heinz with that distracting light in her eyes, as though the younger brother were some tradesman to be tricked out of his money so that the elder brother should live in peace.

  Irma, to be sure, contemptuously scraped her fork on her plate, considering such women ghastly, but she was quite alone in this opinion. So much alone, in fact, that no one else was even thinking about Irma.

  The man – Ed, Max or George, what did it matter? – clumsily rose to his feet, saying: ‘Well, then, I’ll send in the next one,’ reeled towards the door, knocked against a chair and fell down. ‘Now then, now then, who’s barging about here?’ he muttered. ‘D’you chaps always barge into people?’ And fell asleep, dead drunk.

  Eva lay motionless, listening to the riot in the house, the cursing and the drunken cries. During a momentary lull she heard the women weeping and wailing in the cellar where they had been imprisoned; the drunken man snored loudly and a floorboard creaked. Mechanically she pulled her skirt over her knees … She lay there like that for a long time, hardly thinking of anything, just feeling, feeling that it was finally time to go.

  Getting up slowly, she looked round and noticed her coat and hat, which she put on. To go out of the door she had to step over the drunk – this she did without hesitating; then she turned and looked at him and something like intelligence appeared on her ravaged, swollen face. Bending down, she deftly searched his pockets – she knew how to do that all right – she had been through the pockets of drunken men before now. The first thing she found was a heavy gold watch, but this she let slide back again. Her caution was stronger than her greed for money. But she kept the revolver from the other pocket. She did not know how to use it or whether indeed the thing was loaded, but she took it nonetheless, she who had left behind the gold watch. Desire for revenge was stronger in her than greed.

  On the landing she leaned over to look down into the hall. All the lights were on, but only one man was there and he sat on the carpet beside a low table bearing a box of cigars and some bottles. No, it wasn’t Eugen.

  The pistol still in her hand, she went down the wide stairway, and although the carpets were thick the stairs creaked a little; the man below turned his head and with a drunken, trembling hand picked up the weapon at his side. Then he recognized her …

  ‘Oh, so it’s you … I thought … We’ll be skipping later, the boys are just having a shuteye. Bit too much for us, jug yesterday and a binge today. But we’ll slip off in a moment.’ He looked at her again. ‘What d’you want with that rod, eh? Put it down; nobody’ll hurt a pretty girl like you. Come to me, for a change.’

  But she went on, across the small vestibule and through the shattered door, into the open. In front stood the abandoned lorry, its lights out; the barrel of one machine-gun was seemingly aimed at her.

  ‘Anyone there?’ she called out.

  But nobody answered. No one. There had been a lot of noise, they had burst open a door with a hand grenade, the women in the cellar were crying for help – but nobody came. Bad times! There had been war and people had grown so selfish that they could only think of how they might fill their own bellies and scrape through. Now that revolution had broken out they talked peace and sat at home, glad when disaster avoided their door and knocked at another’s. There was no courage to spare for a neighbour. Each for himself.

  She could go out into the night and escape; there was nobody to prevent her. But she had done this too often – fleeing to her sister-in-law, to the canal – and always returning in the end to him …

  So she went back into the house.

  By now the man in the hall was asleep. Treading softly, she went into room after room, observing the havoc that had been wrought, the curtains torn down, the drunken men who, after befouling everything, were now snoring like beasts. Yes, men were beasts, all of them – beasts.

  She went up to the first floor – in vain. She climbed into the attic – no one there.

  Descending again, she walked quicker, with beating heart. She must find him. Arriving at the cellars, she could hear the cries of the women, and she stopped. She now heard a voice, an evil mocking voice, his voice.

  She trembled. She had known quite well, known for a certainty, that he would be the only one of them not to get drunk. No, he would remain sober – he never drank. He was so wicked that he did not even need to forget himself and his sins for a while.

  Slowly, cautiously, silently, she crept towards the half-open door and peeped into the room, a laundry room or some such place …

  Oh, she knew her Eugen! He didn’t drink, but he had taken one of the women from the coal cellar, a girl, almost a child … She lay as if lifeless in his arms, white and with her eyes shut, while his evilly false voice never ceased. ‘See, my sweet, I’m not doing you any harm – I’m your Eugen, your darling Eugen … say “Eugen” … jus’ say “Eugen” once an’ I swear I’ll let you go. Come on, say it!’

  ‘Eugen.’

  ‘There, see how well you learned that. An’ you’ll say it a hundred times yet. Now tell me something more, my sweet, tell your Eugen, whisper it – have you already … come on, tell me.’ And with his sudden transition into rage: ‘But don’t lie! Don’t dare lie to me – I’d know at once.’

  To the girl at the door, Eva Hackendahl, it was as if she herself lay in those arms hearing again for the first time that evil and so persuasive voice, the voice at the beginning of her dark road … And a nameless fear gripped her – for herself, for the other girl, for life, for her own life, the meaning of all life, she knew not what. ‘Eugen!’ she screamed.

  The man started and jumped to his feet at once, le
tting the girl fall. He sprang at Eva – and she fired. Fired straight into the dark and sinister face looming before her. A stream of fire, a deafening crash …

  She had dropped the revolver, she was running away – no glance back – running upstairs, through the hall, out of the house – stumbling against the lorry, falling over. But she got up at once and ran, ran farther and farther into the night.

  And now she knew what she had done and that she would never again hear that false voice or look into those bright, evil eyes. All was over.

  ‘I’m clearing! You tagging on or not, Heinz?’ asked Irma. She spoke slangily on purpose. She was angry and irritable and in no mood to play the fine lady like the pink doll opposite.

  But no one took any notice. Heinz had suddenly turned quarrelsome, perhaps a result of the drinks. ‘And you call yourself a Socialist!’ he said to his brother mockingly. ‘Surrounded by soft armchairs and fat cigars.’

  ‘And fat women,’ murmured Irma, but no one took any notice.

  ‘But if I ask you what you actually want to do for the workers, you’ve got no answer.’

  ‘My dear young thing,’ drawled Erich in an infinitely superior voice, ‘I might inform you that my personal relations concern you not one whit. But even the brain of a schoolboy has enough logic to understand that I can do something for the workers, even if I’m not starving to death myself. Yes,’ he said, enthused by his own words, because he had also drunk heavily.

  ‘Bubi, come along!’ implored Irma. ‘We have to go home.’

  ‘Yes, I can do something for the others much better if I first do something for myself. I must first create an effective home for myself, and such surroundings as these’ – and he looked pleasantly about him – ‘are exactly what I need.’

  ‘According to your theory, then, millionaires make the best Socialists.’

  ‘Oh, Henri, Henri, you’re heavenly,’ laughed Tinette, flinging herself on the sofa. ‘Pure Parsifal – from the fairy tale.’

  ‘There’s something in what you say,’ admitted Erich with a grin. ‘Maybe a certain freedom from care is needed to act in a really social manner. If you’ve got to keep on thinking how to fill your own belly you can’t think about others, that’s as clear as soup.’