Fireshadow

by Anthony Eaton

  ‘I don’t imagine he’ll give you any more trouble.’ The doctor changed the subject. ‘The war is not going too well for your country, I understand.’

  A shrug was all the reply Erich could muster. In truth, despite his best efforts, nowadays he was finding it increasingly difficult to maintain his interest in such far-off matters.

  ‘Some are saying that it will all be over before Christmas.’

  ‘Do you believe them?’

  ‘It is possible, Erich, certainly possible. Have you heard from your family at all?’

  The question, asked casually, was nonetheless a deliberate probe. It was a subject Erich still studiously avoided and the doctor was well aware of the fact.

  ‘No. The mail is not working well. I think that things at home must be very confused at the moment.’ Just last week Herman in Hut Twenty-six had received a letter from his sweetheart, dated over a year earlier.

  ‘Well, I’m sure that things will be fine. They usually manage to get bad news through, so it is probably good that you don’t hear anything.’

  The doctor stood up.

  ‘As there doesn’t appear to be anything for me to do here, I might wander back to my hut for a little rest, Erich. If anything comes up, will you please have the guards summon me?’

  ‘Certainly, Doctor.’

  ‘Good. I’ll pop back across later in the afternoon, just to check in before you go off duty.’

  Erich watched him as he picked his way across the compound towards the gate. The last six months and the cold, wet winter had taken their toll on the old man and even in the short time that Erich had known him he’d become more frail. He needed his afternoon rests now.

  Bored, Erich wandered back inside hoping to find something, anything, that needed doing. As soon as he walked through the door, he had the feeling that something was wrong, out of place. He couldn’t work out exactly what and for a few minutes he wandered the room, checking that everything was where it belonged.

  Then he noticed it. At the far end, behind the doctor’s desk, the supply cupboard, full of drugs and equipment, was unlocked. The doctor had forgotten to secure it.

  In all his months in the hospital, not once had the cupboard been open and unattended. It was far too dangerous. When there were patients in the beds, the doctor would be careful even to the point of positioning himself to shield the contents of the cupboard from their eyes when he opened it.

  ‘If they don’t know what’s in there, Erich,’ he would say, ‘they won’t be tempted to explore it further.’

  And Erich agreed. The routine of camp life made items like morphine and rubbing alcohol attractive forms of recreation.

  But now the cupboard was unlocked and there was nobody around. Crossing to the hospital door, Erich checked outside. The camp was all but deserted. Most of the men were in the forest and would be for hours. Erich quickly snapped the lock on the door to keep others out.

  He’d been in the cupboard many times, but always under the watchful eye of the doctor, getting only what he’d been asked for. Now, swinging the heavy wooden door fully open, Erich’s heart pounded. He knew what he was looking for.

  The scalpels were in a tin box on the top shelf, and with trembling hands Erich eased the box down, placing it on the doctor’s desk. Camp regulations meant that all sharpened or cutting implements needed to be accounted for daily and kept locked away when not in use. Everything, from the cutlery in the mess to the axes used in the forest, was strictly inventoried and tracked. Snap inspections and counts of equipment would take place, and if anything went missing, thorough searches followed immediately. The Australian guards, though relaxed, took no chances with the possibility of the prisoners arming themselves.

  But here, in padded slots in the tin, were six pearl-handled surgical knives. Their blades, wrapped in little cardboard sleeves, nestled in a separate compartment. In all the months he’d been here, the only time that the scalpels had been used was during Günter’s leg operation. Other than that, there’d been no call for them.

  Lifting one of the slim-handled implements from its slot and clipping a blade into place Erich hefted it lightly, appreciating its balance. The knife was weighted perfectly for delicate cutting and slicing. In the pale hospital light, the mother of pearl handle took on a lustre that gave it a slightly iridescent appearance and made it seem to glow from within. Without stopping to think, Erich slid the protective cardboard sleeve back over the blade and slipped the whole thing into the inside pocket of his uniform jacket.

  Closing the tin, a beam of light angling in from one of the dusty windows caught the lid, and in its gleam Erich noticed some fine engraving etched into the metal. He had to strain his eyes to read it: To my darling husband on the occasion of his graduation. With fondest love, Emmaline.

  He stopped, guilty, realising with a sudden, sickening jolt the enormity of what he was doing. This wasn’t simply theft, certainly not war. Taking that scalpel would mean much more; it would mean a betrayal of trust, of friendship. An act without honour.

  The excitement that had so briefly clouded his judgment lifted and, feeling shamed, Erich was reaching back into his pocket to remove and replace the scalpel when the door behind him was kicked open with enough force to shatter the lock.

  Sixteen

  November 1943

  ‘Stand right where you are, Fritz. Don’t move a muscle.’

  Turning slowly, Erich stared once again along the barrel of Guard Thomas’s rifle.

  ‘You didn’t think this was over, now, did you?’

  The only thing Erich could think of doing was staying mute. In his inside pocket, the weight of the scalpel was heavy and accusing.

  ‘You seem to make a habit of poking around in here on your own, eh? Step away from the desk, nice and slowly.’

  The rifle twitched and, obeying, Erich moved to the middle of the floor.

  ‘I knew if I watched you for long enough you’d throw an opportunity like this my way.’ He was moving towards the desk himself now, all the while keeping the gun level.

  ‘Now, let’s see what you’re up to.’ Holding the rifle with one hand, his finger still hovering at the trigger, he reached down with the other and flipped the tin open. From where Erich stood, the empty slot for the missing scalpel seemed dark and enormous.

  ‘Right,’ said the guard, ‘where is it?’

  ‘Where is what?’

  Thomas’s eyes narrowed. ‘I’m very glad you chose to say that, mate.’

  Thomas snapped the tin closed and slipped it into his pocket, then, levelling his rifle with both hands once more, he gestured in the direction of the door.

  ‘Move.’

  At gunpoint, Erich was forced out and into the sunlight. At Thomas’s direction he headed towards the parade ground. They were halfway there when Stutt, stunned at the sight of one of his men being so openly marched under threat, came bolting from the mess towards them. Close behind him, Günter hopped on his crutches. Seeing them, Thomas stopped.

  ‘Wait!’

  It took only seconds for Stutt to arrive.

  ‘May I ask what is going on here?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Thomas smirked and emphasised the ‘sir’. ‘I have just detained this prisoner for theft of contraband items.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

  ‘If you wouldn’t mind, sir, I would request that you search the prisoner.’

  For a long moment the German officer and the Australian guard held eye contact. Thomas was grinning, clearly enjoying the moment. From the nearest gates, two of the senior guards, noticing the confrontation, were running towards the group. Stutt looked at Erich, his expression impossible to read. Both knew that he had no choice.

  ‘Very well. Erich, would you empty your pockets, please.’

  Resignedly, Erich reached into his jacket and drew out the scalpel
, handing it to his commanding officer.

  ‘What is this?’

  ‘A scalpel, sir.’

  ‘I can see that, Pieters. What are you doing with it in your possession?’

  ‘I . . .’ There was no explanation he could give. Thomas pulled the tin from his pocket.

  ‘It belongs in here, sir. I found the prisoner in the process of removing it from a locked cupboard in the hospital.’

  ‘Is this true, Pieters?’

  ‘No, sir, I was about to return it.’

  ‘Ha!’ Thomas snorted. ‘With respect, sir, I don’t think this prisoner suitably trustworthy.’

  ‘The commandant’ll decide that, Thomas.’ The guard captain on duty arrived and took charge. ‘Stand at ease!’ he ordered Thomas, who reluctantly lowered his rifle.

  ‘Heinrich, what do you think?’

  Stutt shrugged. ‘It would seem that we have little choice but to take Pieters here across to the commandant’s office for disciplinary action.’

  ‘Fair enough. Come on, son.’

  The older of the two guards took Erich’s arm and led him towards the gate, Stutt and the other two guards following. As they exited the outer gate the captain turned to Thomas.

  ‘That’ll do for the moment, Thomas. Return to your duty and I’ll send someone to get you if you’re needed.’

  ‘But sir . . .’

  ‘Don’t give me that!’ he roared. ‘Get back to your bloody post and later on we’ll discuss the reasons for you not being there in the first place.’

  Chagrined, but still smirking, Thomas slouched away along the perimeter wire, and Erich headed under escort towards the administration office.

  Seventeen

  November 1943

  The detention cells were in their own enclosure, just a few metres from the German fence line. There were four in all, cubicles containing a wooden bunk and straw pallet, each with a tiny window high in the wall, offering only a barred glimpse of the sky beyond. The cells opened onto a narrow yard and shared a single lavatory and cold shower. Apart from Erich’s all were empty.

  If Erich had been bored by the daily routine of the camp, two weeks in the cell drove him to distraction. Time there passed with interminable sluggishness. Most days were spent sitting in the shade of the small building, staring at the narrow rectangle of sky visible above. Bland meals were delivered by the guards, and Erich spent the hours in frustrated contemplation.

  There was nothing to see or do, so inevitably his mind drifted back to home, to his sister and mother, and of course his father. At nights the dream of the desert continued to haunt him, but now, in the cell, the dream seemed even more real, more intense and harder to shake off afterwards.

  After the first few days, time seemed to float into a continuous cycle of waking and sleeping, and by the end of the first week he’d completely lost track of the days. Apart from the guards, who were under strict orders not to speak to him, he saw no one. It was a surprise, then, when on the second to last day he heard the scraping of the lock in the middle of the day.

  Erich sat up as one of the guards put his head through the door.

  ‘Special visitor for you. Commandant’s permission.’

  Doctor Alexander entered the small yard, wrinkling his nose in distaste at the smell from the latrine, which didn’t always drain properly.

  Erich lowered his eyes to the floor. For two weeks he’d been playing this moment out again and again in his mind, and now shame and guilt seized him in equal proportions. The doctor sat heavily on the cot beside him. Erich thought he looked even older than he had two weeks ago. For some time the two sat in uncomfortable silence, until the old doctor spoke.

  ‘I didn’t believe them at first, Erich. But it is true, isn’t it?’

  Aware of the heat rushing to his face, Erich offered a mute nod.

  ‘I want to hear you say it to me.’

  ‘Ja, Doctor. It is true.’

  Doctor Alexander shook his head sadly.

  ‘That is what I can’t understand, Erich. Why you would do this thing?’

  ‘It was not . . .’ Erich stopped. Despite everything, he wasn’t prepared to inflict further dishonour upon himself by offering excuses.

  ‘I cannot tell you, Doctor. I have no explanation.’

  ‘That’s what I thought.’

  Once more, silence filled the small cell. Sighing, the doctor looked up through the narrow barred window.

  ‘You know something, Erich?’ he continued. ‘I didn’t want to take on this job. When the War Department first approached me, I refused it. Too old, too tired. And in all honesty, the thought of having to tend to Germans repelled me.’

  Erich kept his eyes locked on the concrete floor.

  ‘You know about my son, I presume. I imagine that Alice will have told you. It was only after the minister appealed to me personally, told me how desperate the army was to find a qualified camp physician, that I agreed, with much reservation, to come out of retirement. But once I started, do you know . . .’ He paused. ‘It was good for me. Good to meet men like Heinrich Stutt and Günter, good for me to see your comrades not as the soldiers who’d killed Paul but as men like me. Men with families, men with love. That was why I was happy for Alice to come down here. Because she, like you, is of a generation who would otherwise grow up believing without question the same prejudices I’ve spent the last twenty-four years harbouring.’

  For the first time, Erich turned to face the doctor. The old man’s breathing was laboured, but he met Erich’s gaze directly.

  ‘And do you know something else, Erich? It was especially good when Henrich assigned you to work with me in the hospital, because you remind me very much of my son. He also lied about his age to get into the army – did Alice tell you that? No. You are like him in so many ways, and I think I needed to see that, to comprehend for myself, so that I could begin to understand why he felt he had to leave us. It killed my wife, you know, his death. She died of a broken heart and for a long time I blamed everyone – the Germans, the English, even Paul, for that. I blamed him for the war, for running away, for the fact that he’d never follow in my footsteps. And then Heinrich brought you into the hospital that morning . . .’

  The old man’s voice trailed away, and Erich found himself suddenly and strangely aware of the minutiae of sounds surrounding them: the tick of the tin roof expanding in the midday sun, the delicate rustle and chirp of insects in the low grass outside the walls, the distant cackle of birds in the forest.

  ‘I think I know why you took the scalpel, Erich. I can understand it. I can imagine my Paul doing something similar, because sometimes young men do foolish, impulsive things they later regret. Heinrich tells me you claim that you were about to replace it when you were caught, and I believe that, also.’

  And for the first time since that now distant afternoon when he’d been caught, Erich was aware of the faintest glimmerings of hope inside himself. The doctor continued.

  ‘But of course, things are different now. They have to be. Heinrich and the commandant are both in agreement that you can no longer be trusted to work in the hospital, despite my appeals.’

  ‘What shall I do, then?’

  The doctor shrugged, the movement slow, dispirited.

  ‘I really do not know, Erich. That is for Commander Stutt to decide. I imagine that with Thomas still around he will assign you to one of the working parties, so that you are out in the forest during the days. Whatever he allocates to you, I hope that you will apply yourself with the same diligence and care that you took for me. In the meantime’ – he touched Erich’s arm – ‘I would appreciate it if you would continue to look into the hospital regularly. Both Alice and I would welcome you.’

  At the mention of the girl’s name Erich felt his stomach sink again.

  ‘What does she think?’

 
The doctor went quiet for a few moments, and answered without meeting Erich’s eye.

  ‘She refused to believe it, at first. She blamed everything on Thomas. Now, I am not sure what she thinks. You will need to discuss that with her yourself. Like a man.’

  The doctor stood.

  ‘They will release you back into the general camp population tomorrow, Erich. I will need to look you over before you are assigned to your new duties. Camp policy, I’m afraid. I’ll see you then.’

  He made to leave and Erich also stood.

  ‘Doctor’ – the old man turned – ‘I am sorry.’

  The apology sounded pitifully inadequate, but to his surprise the doctor’s eyes moistened and he reached out and squeezed the younger man’s shoulder with a strange intensity.

  ‘I know you are, Erich, I know you are. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  And the door closed, leaving Erich to contemplate his final day in isolation.

  Eighteen

  February 1944

  The morning air was already warm as the canopy of branches and leaves closed overhead and the number three working party made its way into the green dimness of the forest. The darkness in the shadows created a false impression of coolness and Erich looked up, as he did every morning, acutely aware of the claustrophobic pressure of the trees pressing in upon them. His axe jogged at his shoulder and apart from the crunch of men’s boots on the rough gravel trail the morning was silent.

  It was the same every day – the sensation of close confinement during those first moments in the forest. Often the men would sing bawdy German marching songs to shake off the unsettling strangeness, but this morning, for whatever reason, they marched in subdued silence.