‘Doesn’t matter,’ Steiner said.
‘Right,’ Krüger said. ‘Nothing matters now.’
Beyond the trees were one-story houses, small grey cubes each ringed by its green-painted garden fence. ‘Here’s where we got out of the truck,’ Krüger said. Steiner remained silent. ‘Yesterday morning,’ Krüger said. Steiner remained silent. But abruptly they all stood still and looked back. In the west a number of low detonations sounded, and a few seconds later a steady rumble thundered up from the city. ‘They’re starting again,’ Krüger commented.
Schulz grinned. ‘A waste of ammunition.’ His shoulders twitched with soundless laughter while he held his sharp face turned toward the sky.
‘They should have realized we’ve cleared out,’ Krüger commented.
‘They haven’t,’ Schulz said. ‘Why do you think we left so late? That’s strategy. The Russians are used to us leaving around midnight when we retreat. By four o’clock in the morning they thought we wouldn’t be going.’
His reasoning sounded convincing. ‘Lucky we’re not there,’ someone said. ‘We really would have been in for something.’
The rest of the company had drawn up closer meanwhile, and Gollhofer came running toward them. ‘What are you loitering for?’ he said impatiently. ‘Let’s get out of here or we’ll get ourselves a dose of the Russian matins.’ He grinned. ‘They’re going to be in for a surprise when they attack.’
They continued on at a smarter pace, and a few minutes later left the outlying suburbs of the city behind. Steiner looked back once more. It was not yet light enough to distinguish more than the grey cones of the mountains suspended in the sky—like clouds. The skyline of the city, embedded in the ambiguous dusk of morning, was already almost visible. The sight produced no emotions in him. It was as if all his feeling were frozen and lifeless. But his mind circled incessantly and with great concentration around a single point. He had to settle the account; there was no help for it. Stransky was the real culprit. Triebig had only been his tool. The tool had been eliminated. The hardest task was still ahead. What happened to himself did not particularly matter, so long as he gave Stransky what he deserved.
He considered how to do it. Shoot him, he thought. That was the simplest way. The only question was where? That question he could not answer until he was back with the battalion.
Gollhofer came running up calling out his name. ‘For you, Steiner,’ he said loudly, holding out a scrap of paper. ‘Radio message from Regiment,’ he went on respectfully. ‘You’re to go directly to Regiment.’
As Steiner indicated neither curiosity nor any other sign of interest, the lieutenant disappointedly thrust the paper into his pocket. ‘This probably means you’re due for the Ritterkreuz,’ he said with forced gaiety. Steiner shrugged. The summons troubled him, although he told himself that it could not possibly have any connection with Triebig’s death. His expression of sourness deepened. Gollhofer studied him in wonderment. ‘What’s the matter with you, man?’ he asked impatiently. ‘You’ve deserved a decoration. Even if you already have a dozen of them plastered on your chest.’ Steiner still remained stubbornly silent. The lieutenant laughed crossly. ‘You’re a queer fish,’ he said. Out of sorts, he stood still, waiting for the company to come up with him. Then, as a thought occurred to him, he called out: ‘You can stay with us; we’re going straight to the regimental command post also.’
Steiner nodded without turning his head. Faber was marching at his side, and it suddenly struck him that he had not exchanged a word with Faber for hours. The kind of man who never says anything but who’s always there when you need him, he thought.
The summons from Regiment continued to prey on his mind. If only he knew what lay behind it. Finally he gave up trying to imagine. By now it had grown so light that the terrain on both sides of the highway was visible. The familiar vineyards had a melancholy air. The leaves on the harvested vines were already aglow with the colours of autumn, as though they had been dipped into the hot embers of a fire, and as Steiner raised his head he saw the purple veil on the horizon slowly lifting, drawing after it the blue-black shadows of a chain of hills. It looked as though the highway ended in an unearthly radiance that the earth herself was shedding like a lamp. With an oddly cramped feeling in his chest, Steiner watched the sunrise. He looked back and saw the faces of the men washed with a pale yellow glow as though they were the souls of the dead marching on the great high road to heaven. The impression lasted until a blaze flashed across the horizon, and the rim of the sun became visible beyond the hills. With silent might it thrust higher, showering light over the last shades of the night. Day had come.
A quarter of an hour later Lieutenant Gollhofer ordered the company to halt. He went up to Steiner. ‘Your men must continue on from here,’ he directed. ‘They’ll do best to stick to the railroad embankment until they reach the tunnel. As far as I know the battalion is somewhere over there.’
‘Where are we going?’ Steiner asked.
Gollhofer indicated a mud road that branched off the highway on the left and disappeared among the vineyards. ‘We’re taking a short cut. The highway leads to the command post also, but it takes a detour and winds around the hills. We’ll be there in an hour, if the map is right.’ While he was speaking he happened to notice Steiner’s pack, and asked: ‘What’s that you have there?’
At first Steiner did not know what he meant. Then he recalled the captured flag which he still carried strapped to his assault pack. He had forgotten all about it, ‘A memento,’ he said tersely, and turned to Krüger. ‘Take him to Fetscher,’ he said hoarsely. ‘Tell him to make the grave level. Tell him that. So level that nobody will ever spot it as a grave. Clear?’ Krüger nodded. ‘I hope one of you will be able to be present,’ Steiner went on. ‘Faber or you. Try.’
‘Yes,’ Krüger said. Steiner hesitated. Then he went over to the men who were carrying Schnurrbart’s body. They had laid him down on the road, and no more of him but his nailed mountaineering boots could be seen. These protruded from the canvas as though they were things in themselves. Krüger stood beside Steiner, his lips so tightly compressed that they looked like a white streak across his face. Stiffly, clumsily, Steiner reached over his shoulder and fingered a strap until the red flag fell to the ground. He rolled it up and placed it on the canvas under the dusty boots. ‘Tell them to cover him with that,’ he said. They stood side by side, looking down at the dead man. Gollhofer had quietly come up to them and was watching the scene, a curious expression around his mouth. ‘A friend of yours?’ he murmured. Steiner turned on his heel, crossed the highway and started up the track between the vineyards. There was a startled silence, until Krüger spoke. ‘He was his brother,’ he said. Thin-lipped, Gollhofer watched as they picked up the body and marched off toward the railroad embankment. None of them looked back. When the last man had disappeared beyond the embankment, Gollhofer turned round and said: ‘Engineers platoon, march!’
Their way led across a treeless plateau extending westward as far as the eye could see. Suddenly Steiner, who was walking some five hundred yards ahead of them, disappeared as though swallowed up by the earth. Only then did they realize how sharply the land dropped ahead. The valley appeared at their feet so suddenly that they stood amazed. From up above the dip in the land was so extreme as to form what was practically a ravine. Cleft and uneven, the steep slope was almost barren, with only an occasional bush which clung to the rock. A few hundred yards to their right they saw roofs, and caught sight of the highway again winding down in four huge spirals. They scrambled down the rough incline. Steiner was waiting for them near the first house. Gollhofer sadly observed the dirty-grey walls of the houses and the boarded-up windows. A regular den for bandits, he thought.
A man came running toward them. ‘The lieutenant-colonel wants to speak to you at once, sir,’ he said to Gollhofer. The lieutenant nodded. As he pounded the dust from his uniform he asked where the quarters for the engineers platoon were to be.
The man pointed to a barn-like building. ‘There, sir.’ Seeing the frown of chagrin on Gollhofer’s face, he laughed. ‘Not as comfortable as Novorosisk. But it doesn’t matter; we’ll be moving on again tonight.’
‘Oh!’ Gollhofer exclaimed. His face brightened. ‘Where to?’
‘I don’t know. But it’s certain that we’re evacuating the bridgehead.’
‘That’s what counts,’ Gollhofer said. He looked around. ‘Where is the commander?’
‘In the long building there. I’ll take you to him now.’ The man turned to Steiner. ‘You are to come too, Sergeant.’
In the commander’s building they had to wait several minutes in the dark, dirty vestibule until the man came back out of a room. ‘You may come in now, sir,’ he said to Gollhofer.
‘What about me?’ Steiner asked.
‘Captain Kiesel says you are to wait a little while,’ the man replied. He wore the chevrons of a staff corporal and had a weary, bored expression.
‘If you need me, I’ll be in front of the house,’ Steiner said indifferently.
He went out again. Here in the ravine the shadows had not yet lifted. Only the upper half of the western slope was tinted with a pink which slowly seeped into the gorge. The houses of this village formed two rows, with a lane between. Their chimneys were half crumbled and their slate roofs full of holes. Behind the eastern row of houses the slope was deeply eroded. The ugly ruts led to the dried bed of a stream which was undoubtedly a torrent during the rainy season. Several vehicles stood on the highway. One of them bore the divisional standard. At the wheel sat a driver, dozing. Steiner slowly wandered about among the houses. Perhaps it was on account of the early hour—it was shortly after six—that so few men were about. At the end of the row of houses, a sentry watched in boredom as three men of the signals platoon laid a cable. Steiner turned about and walked toward the other end of the settlement. The gorge led straight for about fifty yards, then bent sharply eastward. The highway, too, following the bed of the stream, disappeared beyond that corner. The last of the buildings stood somewhat at a distance from the others and seemed uninhabited. Glancing in through the glassless windows, Steiner saw bundles of straw lying on the bare floor. Behind the house a deep channel wound its way up the western slope of the ravine. In three places the highway cut across this channel. Accustomed to thorough analysis of the most trivial aspects of his surroundings, Steiner traced its course up to the rim of the ravine.
For a few minutes he stood gazing vacantly upward. Then he started back. As he approached the command post he saw the staff corporal standing on the steps, looking around. The man caught sight of him and called: ‘The captain is waiting for you.’
As he entered the room, Kiesel came striding toward him and held out his hand. ‘I’m so very glad you’re back!’ he said with a cordiality that took Steiner aback. ‘Make yourself comfortable. You really have been through something. The commander is occupied at the moment, therefore I’m delegated to listen to your story. We may as well get right to it. Smoke?’ Steiner looked at the pack of cigarettes Kiesel held out to him, the while he tried to fathom the captain’s intentions. He nodded and accepted a cigarette. ‘First of all I’d like to discharge an obligation,’ Kiesel went on. ‘I wouldn’t have delayed so long except that you’ve been, shall we say inaccessible, for quite a while. You saved my brother-in-law’s life, and I want to thank you for it. I regret being able to do so only in words, but you’ve never cared to accept favours from anyone, Steiner, and I hope you understand my feelings.’
Steiner shrugged uncomfortably. But his relief was so great that he was able to smile as he replied: ‘He happened to be in my way, so I picked him up, that’s all.’
A touch of Steiner’s new geniality passed over into Kiesel’s grave face. The captain nodded as though he had expected some such answer. ‘We’ll drop the subject for the present. Would you mind outlining the events inside the factory from the beginning.’
‘If you like.’ Steiner gave him a summary account. Kiesel scribbled brief notes on a sheet of paper. At the mention of Triebig’s death, the captain interrupted: ‘A hand grenade, you say?’
‘Hand grenade,’ Steiner assented, scanning Keisel’s face vainly for traces of suspicion. ‘The lieutenant was standing no more than two feet in front of me, and toppled over.’
‘Dead?’
‘I hope so,’ Steiner said coldly. ‘For his sake,’ he added as Kiesel raised his eyebrows. ‘If he was not killed the Russians will have butchered him as they did the wounded men whom the lieutenant abandoned to their fate.’
Kiesel blanched. ‘How did that happen?’ he asked quickly.
As Steiner went on with his story, the captain’s face set in harder and harder lines. Finally he stood up with an awkward movement. ‘I know you’re tired, but we may still need you. Captain Stransky has been ordered to see the commander at nine o’clock. It is possible that in connection with their meeting the commander will have a few more questions for you. Why don’t you take a nap until then. Tell the sentry where we can find you. Incidentally...’ He hesitated, and an edge of curiosity crept into his voice. ‘What did you do with the flag?’
‘Threw it away,’ Steiner replied curtly. ‘It was a nuisance to carry.’
‘Really?’ Kiesel’s voice expressed doubt. But he asked no more questions and accompanied Steiner to the door, stressing again that he must hold himself in readiness to be called at nine o’clock. ‘That gives you two and a half hours,’ he said. ‘Time to get a bit of rest.’ He nodded goodbye and opened the door.
As Steiner stepped out on the street he wondered whether it had been a mistake to expurgate his story. Originally he had not intended to conceal the manner in which Schnurrbart had been killed. Yet when he came to that part of his report something had compelled him to pass over the matter, although it was highly unlikely that Brandt or Kiesel would infer the connection between the lieutenant’s apparent error and his subsequent death. Perhaps the reason had been simply that talking about Schnurrbart at all was still too painful.
But this problem was insignificant in comparison to the vital information that Keisel had unwittingly given him. As he crossed the street a plan began to form in his mind. With every step it grew clearer. Suddenly a key detail occurred to him. He turned on his heel, and went back along the street until he met the sentry. ‘If they look for me,’ he told the soldier, ‘I’ll be taking a snooze in the last house over there. Tell your relief, remember.’
The man clicked his heels and said: ‘Yes, sir.’ Steiner headed straight for the house, pleased to note that the sentry was watching him with curiosity.
The house consisted of three small rooms so filthy that Steiner grimaced with disgust. The largest of them had apparently been used on and off as a latrine and stank fearfully. The second room was in somewhat better shape. It was in the centre of the house and had a window on the rear. Steiner decided to stay there. With the butt of his tommy-gun he hammered the bolt of the door shut and then went to the window. Opposite, a few yards away, the land sloped up toward the highway. He found himself looking directly into the erosion gulley. It was six feet deep on the average and from ten to twelve feet wide. Undoubtedly there were more like it in the vicinity, but this was the one for him since it was within a few steps from the window. The only danger points were the places where the highway crossed it. But it would take a considerable coincidence, Steiner told himself, for anyone to observe him at those points.
Having thought the matter out thus far, he slipped his pack off, laid it on the floor and sat down on it. Now that he was apparently going to have a chance to settle accounts with Stransky far sooner than he had hoped, he was filled with a violent impatience. Waiting seemed intolerable. Nevertheless he forced himself to sit still for a while.
Then he swung himself out of the window and began climbing the slope. He stayed in the gully, keeping his head low. The ground had been soaked by the rain; it was slippery and made hard going. Panting
, he worked his way up to the first winding of the road. There he paused to catch his breath and look back. The roofs of the houses were already a considerable distance below him; he could see the rents in the slates. From above the gorge struck him as romantically wild. The road crossed the gully on a stone embankment about ten feet high. Steiner climbed over the stones, scurried across the dusty highway, and ducked down into the continuation of the gully again. He had hung the tommy-gun across his back in order to leave his hands free. After he had crossed the two other highway embankments he slung it over his shoulder once more, ready to hand, and climbed the rest of the way up the slope. The houses had vanished from his field of vision, but he could survey the ravine for more than a mile. He took a short breather and then followed the road. Since he could see a considerable distance in both directions, he was safe from unwanted encounters. The land was undulating here, rising somewhat to his left and forming a low ridge which would provide good cover if necessary. He had to avail himself of this cover sooner than he had expected. Turning around for a moment, he thought he saw a cloud of dust rapidly approaching, He sprang up the slope as fast as he could run. At the top he threw himself flat on the ground and watched the approaching vehicle. As it came closer he recognized the divisional car. The driver was wearing goggles which made his face almost unrecognizable. In the back sat two officers who seemed engaged in an excited discussion. Before he could recognize their rank the car disappeared again behind the billowing dust.
He lay where he was for a few minutes, considering. The regimental command post was still too near. He decided to go on another half-mile. As he got up, he wondered about the direction the divisional car had taken. If it kept going at that pace for another half-hour, he thought, it would run smack into the Russians. Instead of returning to the road, he continued swiftly on along the top of the ridge, carefully watching the terrain to his left. It fell off gently on the other side, then rose again after a few hundred yards to form another ridge. The ground was sandy and slowed him down. After ten minutes he stopped and looked around. The place seemed ideal for his purpose. Here the land dropped off more steeply from the crown of the ridge and he would have to go only a few paces in order to be completely invisible from the highway.
Cross of Iron Page 55