Looking round for Sandauer, Grau found him leaning against an armoured scout car some distance to the General’s rear. He was not examining the map in his hand but appeared to be lost in a sort of expectant day-dream.
The same applied to the General himself, except that he looked incomparably more impressive. Sandauer stared at nothing: the General gazed into infinity. A war correspondent attached to the division was improving the shining hour by taking a few photographs while the General stood there motionless. A better contemporary subject for the camera could hardly have been imagined.
“Phase One,” said the General.
The General’s A.D.C. transmitted this order to Sandauer, who straightened up and said: “Away we go.” These words, uttered in much the tone of a housewife buying a pound of sugar, were addressed to the wireless operator who sat waiting in the scout car.
“I have an appointment with the General,” said Grau, “but I don’t want to disturb him.”
“It’s impossible to disturb the General if he doesn’t intend to be disturbed.” Sandauer preserved his schoolmasterly demeanour whatever the circumstances. “But you’re quite at liberty to approach him. He’s expecting you.”
Grau went over to the General and made his presence known. Tanz seemed to be wrapped in a shroud of silence, so much so that Grau could almost detect a faint odour of decay.
The General continued to stare fixedly ahead, and it was impossible to tell whether he had heard Grau or not. Eventually he said: “Another few minutes, Grau. It’s almost time.”
The minutes ticked by and nothing in particular happened—nothing, that is to say, which seemed to account for Tanz’s attitude of tense expectancy. The fronts of the houses looked flattened, like a dingy stage-set, the tightly shut windows like clouded spectacle lenses, the trees like the skeletal remains of huge cadavers.
Small groups of men moved almost noiselessly along the walls and then froze like statues. A grinding roar came suddenly from a neighbouring street as tanks crawled into position.
Tanz’s face had become a bronze mask, his cheek muscles prominent as whipcord. His slender but powerful hands caressed his sub-machine-gun like those of a lover fondling the neck of his beloved.
The first shot rang out, followed immediately afterwards by the explosive crump of a bundle of hand-grenades. Within what seemed like a split second, the scene changed. The brooding stillness gave way to a roaring, boiling torrent of sound, and pin-points of flame began to flicker like lights darting across the console of an electronic brain. Thin wisps of smoke wreathed their way into the sky as though the city’s inhabitants were puffing at a myriad cigars.
Tanz’s features relaxed into an austere smile, a strange rictus which seemed to grow more pronounced as bullets began to patter round him like hail-stones. A sudden shaking sound came from somewhere near by, then the dull thump of a body hitting the ground. Shortly afterwards a second soldier slumped to the pavement. General Tanz did not move.
“All according to plan,” said Sandauer a moment later.
The General gave an almost imperceptible nod, then turned his head as if unwilling to deprive his faithful G.S.O.1 of an appreciative smile.
“Good,” Tanz said contentedly. “And now Major Grau can put his questions.”
“He seems to have abandoned the idea for the time being,” said Sandauer.
Tanz looked contemptuous. “What do you mean? Has the fellow wet his pants or something?”
“I don’t think so, sir.” Sandauer forced himself to meet the General’s searching gaze with equanimity. “He merely took his leave.”
“Without saying anything?”
“He said something, sir, but I didn’t catch it.” Sandauer lied with a good conscience. He couldn’t possibly tell the General what he had heard or the world would have fallen about his ears and buried him. Major Grau’s quite audible comment had been: “Not even a subnormal human being could be expected to watch an idiotic display like this of his own free will.”
Though intended as a brilliant social occasion, the G.O.C.’s proposed reception—complete with Chopin recital—threatened to become a fiasco of the first order.
The G.O.C. himself was detained by the necessity for making what were described as “momentous decisions”, which automatically meant that his Chief of Staff, General Kahlen-berge, was also delayed. General Tanz was still at large somewhere in the city. When the windows were open, the martial din made by his embattled division drifted in. Consequently, the windows were kept shut.
The order to close the windows issued from Frau Wilhelmine, who continued to supervise arrangements and played the part of sole host, performing the former function with vigour and the latter with dignity.
Once the first few uncomfortable minutes had been overcome the atmosphere took on a comparatively festive note, thanks mainly to the efforts of that seasoned entertainer Captain Kraussnick. His method was admirably simple. Instead of greeting the guests with a glass of port or vermouth, as had been planned, he enterprisingly took a short cut and plied them with hard liquor—chartreuse for the ladies, cognac and kirsch for the gentlemen—in wine glasses. It was hardly surprising if the room was quickly pervaded by a glow of intimacy.
One of the momentous decisions which were occupying the G.O.C. concerned Major Grau, who stood in his outer office displaying a mixture of pig-headed obduracy and bland affability. He wanted to have his say.
Kahlenberge said: “Why not?”, left Grau in the outer office and went in to see his chief.
The G.O.C. was still preparing for the reception. His words of welcome were to be sonorous yet profound, courteous yet admonitory—in short, edifying. He had already mapped out the more important passages and was now engaged in polishing the finer details. Any distraction at this juncture was unwelcome.
“We’re not going to be able to avoid seeing our friend Grau, I’m afraid,” Kahlenberge told him. “As a matter of interest, he’s in a most peculiar state at the moment—still behaving like a gentleman but apparently determined to stage a sort of bullfight here with himself in the role of matador. It would be advisable to disabuse him of the idea immediately.”
“Didn’t Tanz manage to send the man packing?”
“No.” Kahlenberge sounded relieved rather than disappointed, almost as though he derived a perverse pleasure from being confronted with the problem of Grau once more. “Grau obviously realized that Tanz meant to give him a rough time. We couldn’t foresee that. Anyway, he beat a hasty retreat—in our direction, unfortunately.”
“Deuced embarrassing,” commented the G.O.C. “What do you think we ought to do now?”
“What one usually does in such situations, sir: keep talking.”
“Couldn’t we put him off—say, until tomorrow?”
“I shouldn’t advise it.”
As normally happened when he was confronted by a grave decision, von Seydlitz-Gabler experienced a moment or two of faintness and his stomach threatened to rebel. Then, as if he were controlling an unruly horse, he gathered himself for the next hurdle.
“All right, send him in.”
Major Grau entered the room like a man who intended to take possession of it, lock, stock and barrel. His usually immaculate clothing looked slightly crumpled but his smile was as bland as ever.
“I was under the impression,” he began, “that I was going to be able to pursue my official inquiries this afternoon. This had been agreed to, and General Kahlenberge personally made the necessary arrangements with your consent and approval. As it was, I found myself involved in a—hm, military engagement.”
“Most regrettable,” said the G.O.C. resonantly, “really-most regrettable.”
“Regrettable, yes—but true.” Grau still managed to preserve a smile. “And all the more regrettable in that it was a matter of which my department should have received advance notification.”
“Major Grau,” said the G.O.C, puffing like a weight-lifter in training, “I thank you for your int
erest and your gratifying willingness to co-operate. I fully appreciate it and shall draw the appropriate conclusions. When occasion arises I shall take the matter up again.”
Major Grau seemed to be amused. “I could insist on immediate clarification. I could even take the view that postponement is tantamount to concealment.”
“Is that meant to be a threat?”
“Perhaps only a warning,” replied Grau undeterred. “I have some questions to ask and I shall ask them.”
“Later please,” said von Seydlitz-Gabler with comparative vigour. “And kindly remember that military operations always take precedence over other matters.”
“Even when the solution of a murder case is being systematically impeded?”
“Even then, I’m afraid,” put in Kahlenberge with an inscrutable smile. “Military law takes precedence over criminal law. You won’t find that written down anywhere, but it’s a generally accepted fact—and for obvious reasons.”
General von Seydlitz-Gabler cleared his throat. “And now I must ask you to leave me alone with my Chief of Staff.”
There was something deliberately irritating about Grau’s smile as he withdrew, making his exit like an actor who was due on stage again in a minute or two. His parting salute bore no resemblance to the regulation movement and the G.O.C. did not deign to return it.
“Well,” said von Seydlitz-Gabler, “that settles his hash. His latest performance went a bit too far. High time for that change of air you mentioned, eh, Kahlenberge? It shouldn’t be difficult to arrange.—No, what I’m much more worried about at the moment is the news that there has been fighting in the city. What do you know about it?”
“Nothing much, sir—only that General Tanz laid on an exercise for this afternoon.”
“Without consulting us?”
“He only planned to hold an exercise,” Kahlenberge said cautiously. “Major Sandauer, Tanz’s G.S.O.1, informed me accordingly. I don’t know what it developed into.”
“Kindly request clarification,” ordered the G.O.C.
The process of clarification lasted nearly an hour. Kahlenberge conducted a prolonged telephone conversation with Sandauer over a newly laid direct line leading to Promenade Square.
Von Seydlitz-Gabler did not remain idle either. He also did some telephoning, in this instance to Supreme Headquarters, where he had an old Staff College friend who was in the closest touch with Admiral Canaris. It was a highly satisfactory conversation and one which demonstrated the value, if demonstration were needed, of the “old boy net.” Meanwhile, Frau Wilhelmine continued to receive her guests as they streamed into the festively decorated salon. She noticed that Lance-Corporal Hartmann had stationed himself respectfully within reach. His efforts to put together a representative programme had been crowned with success. There was to be Chopin, but only some waltzes and a few undemanding preludes. If any encores were needed, the gap could be plugged with an étude or two.
“You’re a very efficient young man,” Frau Wilhelmine told Hartmann appreciatively in an interval between guests-she had just extended her bony hand to the Reich Commissioner—”I feel I can rely on you.”
Hartmann blushed. He always blushed when he was uncomfortable, and he was uncomfortable most of the time. The new world into which he had been launched presented more surprises than he had bargained for. Within a bewilderingly short space of time he had been shuttled back and forth, willy-nilly, between life and death, Russians and Nazis, Chopin and Frau Wilhelmine.
“I’ll look after him,” said Ulrike, eyeing Hartmann with pleasure. “I’ll make sure we don’t lose him.”
“I hope,” Frau Wilhelmine said severely, “you haven’t forgotten why you’re here.”
Ulrike grimaced. “There’s not much hope of that.”
“Good,” said Frau Wilhelmine. “Then behave accordingly.” She turned to Hartmann with a gracious smile. “I’ll call you when I need you. Hold yourself in readiness.”
“Certainly, ma’am,” said Hartmann, glancing cautiously at Ulrike.
Meanwhile, the two generals had been doing what they could to sort out their problems, and that, in the third year of the war, was a good deal. Satisfied that his private network was still functioning admirably, von Seydlitz-Gabler felt that the world had resumed its ordered course.
“The following facts have emerged from my conversations with Major Sandauer and General Tanz,” Kahlenberge reported. “Units of the Nibelungen Division were engaged in an exercise this afternoon. Object: to explore methods of dealing with scattered hostile groups in a built-up area.”
“How did fighting break out?”
“Quite simple,” Kahlenberge went on. “General Tanz’s troops had just started their exercise when, according to Major Sandauer, they were suddenly fired on by members of the Polish Resistance. In consequence, the units engaged returned their fire.”
“Entirely understandable,” declared the G.O.C. without hesitation. “It amounted to a case of self-defence, which takes the matter out of our hands.”
“Certainly, providing someone like Major Grau doesn’t try to put forward his own version of the story. It could, for instance, be painted as a piece of deliberate provocation which we tolerated almost without a murmur.”
“We needn’t worry on that account, my dear Kahlenberge.” The G.O.C. beamed contentedly across the desk. “I did a little telephoning myself just now. As you’re aware”—here he winked confidentially—”I cherish the highest regard for Major Grau. His achievements on behalf of local counter-intelligence are beyond dispute. I have therefore impressed upon the appropriate authorities that Major Grau has an unrivalled claim to be transferred to a wider and more important sphere of duty.”
“And?” Kahlenberge inquired eagerly. “Have you really managed to get him kicked upstairs?”
“Major Grau is to be promoted lieutenant-colonel and will receive an immediate posting to the Abwehr in Paris. He is to be congratulated—and so are we.”
INTERIM REPORT
DOCUMENTS CONCLUDING THE FIRST PART OF THIS BOOK
Recorded remarks of ex-Sergeant Lehmann, long-time batman of General von Seydlitz-Gabler.
Place: Berlin.
Date: 17th February, 1962.
Lehmann on General von Seydlitz-Gabler, with special reference to his private life. Reproduced in heavily abridged form:
“The General was one of the best, you can’t get away from that. A proper gentleman in any situation.
“Here’s a typical example. Just after the fall of France we were quartered in a villa somewhere. I came in late—saw a light still on in the General’s study—thought: he’s working himself to death. Then thought: maybe he needs something—a sandwich or a glass of soda water or a bottle of burgundy. Knocked and went in. Saw the General sitting there brooding in an arm-chair, medals and all. Then saw a woman stripped to the buff and doing a sort of dance in front of him. Nice bit of stuff. Said: ‘Excuse me, sir,’ and the General said: ‘I’m afraid you’re in the way for the moment, my dear Lehmann.’
“Do I remember Melanie Neumaier? I should say so. She was potty about the General. Not that she showed it of course, but I could read her like a book. She used to get hot pants whenever she’d been near him for any length of time. Once she led me on—me! We had a roll on the General’s bed—he was in conference at the time. She puffed like an engine going up a gradient and babbled: ‘Herbert, oh Herbert!’ My name’s Alfons—Herbert was the General’s Christian name.
“Frau Wilhelmine was a right one. She just about did for us, the way she kept us all on the hop. Sometimes I was almost as worn out as the General—and I didn’t have to sleep with her. But she was a real lady, I will say that. No one ever got a sniff there, not even the people she encouraged—not even Rainer Hartmann, I’d stake my oath. He just acted as a sort of lap-dog for a while—wagged his tail nicely too, but that’s as far as it went.
“Her ladyship always spoke to me in the third person. Something like this: ‘
I’m sure our faithful Lehmann will take care that…’ or: ‘Seeing that our Lehmann is so reliable, I hope that he will…’ and so on. —Our Lehmann! It wasn’t long before everyone on the staff was calling me that. Even a girl who was keeping the General happy called me ‘our Lehmann.’ She had a point, too. The General wasn’t getting any younger, you see. Too much red wine and worrying about his work didn’t help—so, to cut a long story short, I helped him out occasionally.
“Things got a bit complicated sometimes. Once when I was waiting next door for the girl I heard her start screaming fit to bust and rushed in. The first thing I saw was what I expected to see—follow me? Then I saw that the girl was purple in the face—bloody near strangled, she was. The General must have had a sort of heart attack, because he was hanging on to her with his hands round her neck. Pathetic, isn’t it? That’s what comes of knocking yourself out for your country. And what thanks do you get, that’s what I’d like to know.”
Extract from a leading article published in the magazine Sword and Spirit in November 1942. Its author was Captain Kahlert, the war historian attached to General von Seydlitz-Gabler’s staff. This article appeared under the title: “Resistance and the Consequences:”
“We are waging this war in order to create a better world. It is an historic mission of which no one who is conscious of his responsibility toward Greater Germany and a New Order in Europe can or may deprive us.
“But, as always occurs when light wrestles with darkness, the most sinister forces are unleashed. Sub-humans are incapable of observing the clearly defined rules of fair play. Their favourite weapons are cunning and deceit. We must not only be prepared for this but take positive measures to meet it, and this plainly entails the extermination of all criminal elements.
“Such is the situation that has been forced on us in several places, notably Warsaw. While we regret it profoundly, we should not hesitate for one moment to draw the necessary conclusions. For what are the real facts of the matter? Poland persistently provoked the German Reich and imposed a war on her by force of arms. We had no alternative but to meet this challenge, and we did so victoriously. We occupied the country and began to govern it according to the historic rights of the victor and the eternal laws of humanity.”
The Night of the Generals Page 8