‘People grumble at this and that only because they don’t realise that such trials as they have to face are sent them by God for a mighty purpose: the regeneration of the human race. It’s only because people are greedy and selfish, like the English, that our present troubles have befallen us. In the meantime we must all do our duty to the Führer and the Fatherland without flinching. Whatever sacrifices we may be called upon to make let us rejoice in the knowledge that God knows our every action and credits to our score every trial through which we pass uncomplainingly.’
‘Quite,’ said Gregory. ‘Quite.’ Cheerful cynic that he was he had always recognised that the history of England was one long tale of grabbing other people’s property, and he rejoiced in the fact; firmly believing that the British did far more good than harm wherever they went and that it would be no bad thing for everybody if the English-speaking races ruled the whole world.
He always respected anyone’s sincere beliefs, however, even though he might not be able to subscribe to them himself, but a fellow who believed in a combination of God and Hitler was really too much of a good thing. Obviously the man would prove quite unbribable and would refuse absolutely to give him any sort of help; so he added quickly: ‘Well, I’ll be going now; must scrounge a light for my gasper. Good night.’
The bearded picket’s answering ‘good night’ followed him as he strolled along to the next man and tried the same tactics.
The second soldier was a weedy little man but he obligingly produced a box of matches immediately Gregory asked for a light.
‘Have one?’ inquired Gregory, offering a battered packet of cigarettes that he had found in Johannes’ pocket.
‘Thanks,’ said the man; ‘don’t mind if I do. The Sarge has just done his round so he won’t be snooping about in this direction for another hour at least.’
This piece of information was merry music to Gregory’s ears and he said casually: ‘Don’t envy you your job, standing about half the night like this. Must get pretty cold towards the morning.’
‘It does that.’ The man lit his cigarette and puffed at it, cupping it in his hand. ‘What’s your job?’
‘Oh, I’ve got a cushy billet, for the moment at all events. I’m a clerk in the R.T.O.’s office. Hell of a lot of work to do with all these trains going through, and they keep us at it until all hours, but it’s better than having to do guard or being sent to the Front.’
‘Wouldn’t have minded having a bit of fun in Poland, myself,’ remarked the soldier, ‘but this war in the West’s going to be different. The Frenchies have got field-guns what fire thirty rounds a minute, so a pal of mine was saying the other day; and tanks that weigh near enough a hundred ton. If you ask me, it’s going to be every bit as bad as what my Dad told me about the last war.’
‘That’s right,’ agreed Gregory. ‘Blood baths for all and sundry. Four years of your life without the option.’
‘Four years!’ sniffed the sentry. ‘I doubt if we can last two unless these Russkies come across with the goods. Why, look at the stuff they’re giving us to eat already, before the darned war’s a fortnight old. It isn’t enough to support a well-grown kid.’
‘Makes you sick, doesn’t it? Especially when you know, as I do, that the Party leaders live on the fat of the land without giving a thought to chaps like us.’
‘Is that a fact?’ the man asked with all a scandalmonger’s interest.
‘’Course it is,’ responded Gregory, thoroughly enjoying the chance of conveying this piece of anti-Nazi propaganda, especially as it had a considerable basis of truth. ‘I should know, shouldn’t I, being in railway transport? What d’you think I do all day but check lists of things? And half of them are luxuries from Holland and Belgium consigned to the Party H.Q.’s. You should just see the stuff they have; caviare, champagne, all sorts of funny fruits that we’ve never even set eyes on; tubs of real butter, lovely, fat Dutch hams and Lord knows what besides.’
‘That’s enough!’ cut in the weedy soldier; ‘you’re making my mouth water. But it fair makes you sick don’t it? I’ve got a wife at home and a couple of young kids, but we haven’t seen butter in the house for the last six months.’
‘Same here,’ Gregory nodded, ‘only I’ve got four. It’s cruel to see them, they’re that thin. But listen here, chum; you feel the same way as I do and fair’s fair, isn’t it? And the blokes up top aren’t giving us a square deal. Like to take your wife home a present? One of those nice, fat Dutch hams I was talking about just now?’
‘You on the level?’ queried the man warily; ‘I’ll cut your guts out if you’re one of them blasted Nazi spies.’
‘’Course I’m not! I mean it about that ham, too, but I’ll need your help.’
‘Nothing doing, mate. I’m not risking a month in cells.’
‘You don’t have to. Just listen a minute. I was inspecting a train that came in from Holland today, and found the padlock broken on one of the wagons. When I got back to the office I turned up its number, and what d’you think was inside? Why! turkeys, geese and hams—all for the blinking Party Headquarters. Well, that train’s still in the yard, on the siding. As the lock’s broken it’ll be as easy as pie for me to get into the wagon, see? I want one of those hams for my little lot at home. All you’ve got to do is to give me a leg-up over the fence and keep a sharp look-out so’s I can get back over it with the goods without being spotted by your officer or one of your pals. If you’re game to do that I’ll bring you a fat ham for yourself, see?’
‘My friend; I’m with you! How long’s the job going to take?’
‘Twenty minutes, about; half an hour at the outside. That all right?’
‘Yes. You give three soft raps on the sleepers behind me when you get back, see? If I cough you’ll know it’s all right. If I don’t, you’ll know there’s someone here and you’ll have to lie low till I give you the wire that the coast’s clear. How’s that?’
‘Fine,’ nodded Gregory. ‘I’ll give there raps and wait till you cough. Well, the sooner we’re through, the better.’
‘Sure thing! Up you go!’
As Gregory gripped the top of the fence the guard gave him a heave up from behind. He wriggled over and with a sigh of satisfaction dropped down on the other side.
In the huge yard there were scores of trains waiting in the sidings until engines could be found to take them to their destinations. His next problem was to find one which was being sent either to Belgium or Holland. As work was being carried on in shifts for twenty-four hours out of the twenty-four, faint lights were still moving here and there, where gangs loaded and unloaded cargoes, but now he was past the pickets and actually in the yard Gregory had little fear of being challenged.
On the numerous occasions when he had visited Cologne during normal times he had stepped out of the Ostend train from Belgium on to a platform which had become quite familiar to him in consequence; and the knowledge of its position was the only thing which he now had to guide him in selecting one of the long lines of stationary wagons. Padding softly through the darkness and taking care to avoid the gangs of workmen, he made his way back to the passenger-station until he reached the ends of its long, low platforms.
There was enough light for him to see by quite easily here, as the glass panes of the station roof had been painted black, and shaded lights showed troops and civilians in the distance boarding one or two of the out-going trains.
Having reached the end of the Ostend arrival platform Gregory left the passenger-station once more, tracing the Ostend line that ran from it, and had not gone far before darkness once more closed in about him save for the low signal-lights of red and green which were burning opposite the sets of points so that the drivers might operate the trains.
As soon as he had retraced his steps to a spot opposite the goods-yard Gregory became particularly interested in these sets of points. He wanted to find one on the Ostend line from which there ran back into the goods-yard a track having upon it a line of
wagons which were already loaded for departure.
Having found the tracks he was seeking, he traced them back into the yard, thanking his stars when he found that on them there stood a long line of loaded wagons. As they stood near the entrance of the yard there was a fair chance that they would be dispatched early next morning or during the coming day, and although it was a considerable gamble there was a reasonable possibility that their cargo was booked for Belgium.
Fumbling in the darkness he soon discovered that the closed wagons were all padlocked, so that he would have to be satisfied with an open one. Climbing up he undid the cords holding down corners of the tarpaulins on several of them, until he found one that contained only wooden cases which could be moved about and which would not soil his clothes.
Scrambling up on to it, he turned back about a third of the tarpaulin and rearranged some of the cases as well as he could, making himself a little shelter which would suffice, at all events to save him from being spotted by anyone who might make a merely casual examination of the truck’s contents on its way to the frontier.
Bending nearly double, he pulled the tarpaulin over him and refixed it as well as he could, though he had to leave a rope dangling loose at one corner; then he wriggled down in the pitch-blackness and stretched himself out at full length in the space which he had cleared between two cases and had concealed by piling two others above it.
He could not help thinking with regret of the unfortunate picket who was waiting in such eager expectation for his return with a fat ham, and had it been in his power he would gladly have compensated the poor fellow for his disappointment.
On entering Cologne there had been no possible means by which he could get a square meal without running a suicidal risk of arousing suspicion, so it was now getting on for two days since he had had anything to eat except chocolate. He was desperately tired, however, and in spite of his hunger and the pain in his leg he composed himself to sleep with what fortitude he could muster.
A sudden jolting and clanking as an engine backed up to the string of trucks woke him, and the faint daylight which penetrated under the tarpaulin told him that he must have slept for a few hours at least. On peering at his watch he found that it was nearly midday. His first sensation, was one of satisfaction at the thought that the train was moving instead of remaining, as it quite well might have, stuck for several days in the goods-yard at Cologne; his next was hunger. His stomach felt terribly empty, and only three bars of his packet of chocolate remained.
Breaking one off he nibbled it slowly; then took a drink from his flask; which now contained a mixture composed of a very small portion of brandy and an unduly large proportion of the river-water with which he had had the foresight to fill it up when he had bandaged his leg on the previous night.
The wagon bumped backwards and forwards, jolting him about as he ate his meagre breakfast, but at last the train got properly under way and chugged steadily along at a quite reasonable pace, and as Gregory had nothing more urgent to occupy him he proceeded to review his position.
If he could get into Belgium without being discovered at the frontier he must somehow or other get rid of his German uniform as quickly as possible and beg, borrow, buy or steal a suit. He had no passport, but once in civilian clothes he would be able to proceed to the British Embassy, whence he could telephone to Sir Pellinore and get things fixed up for his return to England.
Getting over the frontier was going to be the stickiest part of the business, since it was quite certain that every wagon would be searched on the German side for refugees and deserters and as the Germans are proverbially methodical the search would be a thorough one.
If he were to escape detection it was essential that he should improve his hiding place. Crawling out of his hole he raised the loose corner of the tarpaulin and looked out. The train was running through flat country and there was a village in the distance. Gregory popped his head back. It was vital that he should not be seen by any railway ganger or officious householder living near the line who might telephone through to the next station and report that there was a deserter on the train, but by keeping the corner of the tarpaulin turned back he had plenty of light to see by and he set about the task of opening one of the cases.
It was no easy business as he had nothing but a jack-knife to use as a lever, but fortunately the Germans were by now using only thin wood for their packing-cases, for economic reasons, and after ten minutes’ hard work he succeeded in prising open the lid of one of the cases under which he had been lying. It contained a consignment of German toys under a layer of wood-shavings. Putting the shavings aside Gregory threw the toys one by one, as far as he could without being seen, into the fields beside the line.
Next he piled the other big cases up on either side until he had cleared a space on the floor of the wagon large enough to take the case he had emptied and allow him just enough room to crawl into it. Turning the empty case on its side he pushed the shavings back into it so that they would make his hiding-place softer to lie in and provide a pillow; he then heaved the other cases back on top of it, thus creating a snug hide-out, just large enough to hold him, right at the bottom of the wagon.
Having done all he could to conceal himself he tried to sleep again and managed to doze for a few hours, but to his annoyance the train halted in the early afternoon and when, after half an hour’s wait, it still did not go on he feared that it had been side-tracked into another goods-yard. He had no idea where he was and as the hours dragged by he became acutely anxious. He had not even been sure in the first place, that the train was going to Belgium. For all he knew it might have been switched over various points and be carrying him into the centre of Germany; or perhaps it was not on its way to the frontier at all, but had already reached its destination.
Hunger and thirst began to torture him so he ate another bar of his chocolate and had a sparing drink, praying the while that his slender stores would last him either until he was out of Germany or until he could find a good oportunity to leave the train under cover of darkness, if hunger forced him to do so.
At last night fell and he debated with himself whether or not to remain where he was for another twenty-four hours. He now had only one bar of chocolate and about a wineglassful of weak brandy-and-water left; if he decided to stick it out he would suffer acutely during the following day, as he certainly dared not leave the train by daylight. For all he knew it might be left on the siding for a week before it proceeded further or was unloaded.
On the other hand he could leave the train during the night with comparative safety, but if he did so he would have to begin all over again the risky work of spotting a train bound for a neutral frontier, finding a suitably-loaded wagon and making himself some sort of a hide-out in the load; while wherever he might try to get food in the meantime he would run the risk of being questioned, or even identified. It must now be a good twelve hours since the car had been discovered and its occupants examined by the police; the radio and the evening papers would already have warned every German to be on the look out for the fake General von Lettow, now dressed in the uniform of a private soldier.
At last he determined that he would remain where he was for some hours longer at all events, and leave the train only if it should remain stationary until just before dawn. To his joy the bumping started once more a little after one o’clock as the string of wagons resumed their journey, but during the next few hours they twice revived his fears by halting for periods of about a quarter of an hour.
His cramped position added to his wretchedness, for combined with his anxiety, thirst and hunger, it rendered sleep impossible. To his relief, however, the train clanked away again after its third halt, although it once more bumped to a standstill half an hour later. Within a few minutes he heard two men talking in German on the tracks just outside his truck.
Instantly alert, Gregory wriggled down into his dark hiding-place and tensed himself to listen. Soon afterwards he heard the noise of the tarpaul
in being flung back and a man climbing up on the cases above him, and an instant later he just caught the flash of a torch penetrating between the cases. He lay very still, scarcely daring to breathe while the man rummaged about, but after what seemed an age the searcher muttered in German to his companion, the cover was replaced and they passed on. Relaxing, Gregory breathed more freely now, his hunger and thirst forgotten, for he felt certain that he had reached a frontier and had escaped detection by the examining officials.
If only he could escape the examination on the other side of the frontier which was certain to be less rigorous, he was as good as safe. An hour or two of darkness still remained and he had plenty of money on him; there would be any number of poor peasants in the frontier district who would be glad enough to sell him a suit of clothes for some of his German marks, and to keep their mouths shut, afterwards smuggling the marks back into Germany in payment for a consignment of illicit spirits, Gregory determined that he would leave the wagon as soon as possible after it had been passed by the neutral customs officers. To-morrow night, or the next at latest, he would be back in London.
Half an hour later the train moved off again, but soon jolted to a halt. After twenty minutes of unbroken silence he again heard voices, and straining his ears he listened intently. Two men near the wagon were talking in Dutch. He knew then that instead of being carried into Belgium he had reached Holland.
For the second time the tarpaulin was flung back, then a searcher climbed on to the wagon and began to poke about among the cases with something that rattled. He was thrusting a long pole down between them while his companion held a torch. Suddenly the pole banged on the floor of the wagon just by Gregory’s head. He saw it as the torch shone down upon it, but the torch shone upon something else as well—some of the loose shavings that Gregory had been unable to scrape into the case when he had crawled into it in the darkness.
The Scarlet Impostor Page 16