‘How do you do,’ Zdenek said to me. ‘How’s it going?’
‘Same as with you, I guess.’
‘Look,’ said Zdenek. ‘I get the feeling all this doesn’t make much sense.’
‘All what?’
‘All this organization.’
‘Well, that’s an original thought,’ I said.
‘Boy, we had a troop that was really organized. All mountain climbers, see?’
‘Must’ve been great,’ I said.
‘I’ll say,’ went on Zdenek. ‘Tonda was our leader and it was just guys from the club.’
‘What happened?’
‘They disbanded us. I guess they’ve forbidden any kind of private organization. That’s what this army’s for and anybody who doesn’t obey will be treated like an outlaw.’
‘A bunch of crooks themselves,’ I said. ‘What’s Irena doing?’
‘She signed up for the Red Cross. Hey, there’s Tukes!’ Zdenek said suddenly and whistled their signal. Tukes, another mountain climber, came across the grass towards us. He had buckteeth and was wearing a ski cap and two other guys were with him. They were both wearing mountain-climbing pants with leather knee patches and jackets with more patches and Tyrolean hats.
So I quickly said to Zdenek, ‘Gee, there’s Benno. I’ve got to talk to him. See you later!’ It was all the same to Zdenek. He didn’t even hear me and he didn’t even look at Benno.
‘Well, greetings, gentlemen, greetings,’ he yodelled at them. ‘Come on, come on over!’
I went over to Benno and the other guys from the band who’d just shown up and just walking over there made me feel better. I’d always felt funny around Zdenek and all those sportsman types from the Alpine Club. I wasn’t the athletic type. I belonged to the band. The Alpinists made me sick with their knapsacks stuffed with bread and butter and their patented butter holders and all their talk about the beauties of the sun going down on the cliffs and about traversing here and chimneying there and about pietons and etriers and belaying and roping down. The whole business gave me a big pain and I only went around with them on account of Irena, because she did, and that’s why I floundered around, up and down the Ledecsky Rocks, dabbing my skinned knees and torn hands with iodine, and swinging all tangled up in loops of rope far out over the tops of the pine and spruce trees with the blue sky up above and grey cliffs in between whose sides had been gashed and etched by some primeval sea and flayed by the winds while down below, deep in the gulch over which I dangled, the moss grew soft and wet and dark in the shadows and there I was, clinging to those ropes like an untalented spider. Like the time I crossed from Five Fingers to Sleave Peak. It felt awfully weird up there on those ropes but it really gave you a good feeling, too, because there was Irena sitting over on Sleave Peak in her yellow sweater and those pants with the leather heart over her fanny, and she was watching me tensely and telling me what to do next so it wasn’t half bad. It was kind of fun, in a way, to be a mountain climber and crawl everywhere with Irena and sleep beside her and the others at night in the cabin down under the cliffs. All that was great, except I was no mountain climber. They had to pull me along the rope with loops and I’d always fall at Chimney Rock and my knees would knock going up the side of the cliff. I just wasn’t built for that sort of thing. I was just interested in Irena and I did all that just on account of her and, man, what all I hadn’t done! But almost everything I ever did was on account of girls. Just like every other guy I ever knew. Only some were lucky enough to be able to do things they were cut out for, things they loved doing and were talented at and that the girl loved doing too. No such luck for me. I loved playing jazz and I was good at it and I didn’t enjoy crawling over cliffs and I was clumsy as hell at doing it. Irena was all for cliffs and nature and for getting up at half past three to see the sunrise and she said herself she wasn’t musical and she wasn’t. She’d only taken piano lessons because her daddy wanted her to and she couldn’t tell the difference between a trombone and a trumpet, but she didn’t even care. I did. I was happiest when we were up in Benno’s room, listening reverently to Armstrong’s ‘Ain’t Misbehaving’ or else when I was sitting at the Port Arthur sucking on the tenor reed and fiddling with the valves on its nice, cool, metallic body. That was the life for me. That was life and none of these other things were.
I went over to Benno and the others and joined them without a word. There was a big crowd behind the icehouse now. It looked like things should start any minute. We waited a while longer and then Major Weiss appeared around the corner of the icehouse in his elegant uniform. There was some other guy with him, a short guy with sergeant’s stripes on his arm. He was squat and stubby and looked like a stump.
‘Jeezuz,’ said Benno. ‘Is he going to instruct us?’
‘Looks that way,’ said Lexa.
Major Weiss blew his whistle and everybody stopped talking. He waited till everything got quiet and then said, ‘Men, I’m turning over command of this group to Sergeant Krpata who will give you the necessary basic training. His orders must be obeyed without question, as you yourselves pledged to do when you signed up. Good luck!’
‘Thank you, sir!’ a couple of idiots called out feebly. Major Weiss said a few words to Krpata who clicked his heels and saluted. Major Weiss touched his cap casually and left. Company Sergeant Krpata looked us all over.
‘We’re in for a great time now,’ said Benno.
‘Don’t forget, it’s for the fatherland,’ Lexa said.
‘Shit,’ said Benno.
‘There are quite a lot of you here,’ yelled Krpata. ‘So Major Weiss and I decided that half of you will go out on patrol while the other half undergoes basic training here this morning and when the patrols return those who’ve remained will go out.’
‘Are we going to parade around town again?’ somebody up front asked.
‘Yes,’ Krpata told him. ‘Somebody’s got to help handle the refugees and move mattresses into temporary dormitories.’
‘The same old grind all over again,’ grumbled Benno.
‘And now I’ll read off half the men on this list. That half will remain here. You others’ll leave and report back in two hours,’ said Krpata. I looked at my watch. It was eleven. Krpata read off the names. All were present and accounted for. The sun was getting hotter and hotter and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. It was sweltering. Benno took off his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt all the way down to his belly. Drops of sweat glistened on his forehead and there were big wet stains under his armpits.
‘Now what’re they going to do with us?’ he said in a low voice.
Krpata finished reading his list and said all those whose names had not been read should leave. Several guys hoisted themselves up off the grass and plodded off. I saw the mountain climbers leave with the leather patches on their behinds, looking like they were going to some kind of masquerade. The sun beat down on the green grass and on the guys clumping past the icehouse. The back wall of the icehouse was cracked and tiny useless bits of mica in the plaster glittered in the sun.
‘Well, now,’ said Krpata and then out of the clear blue sky, he let out an unnatural bellow: ‘Ten-shun!’ Though none of us moved, I noticed a number of boys jumping up off the grass. Hrob was standing in front of me, tense as a bowstring, his carrot top blazing in the sunshine.
‘You! You back there! Didn’t you hear me? I gave the order to stand at attention!’ yelled Krpata, glaring at us. Wearily we got up and drew ourselves to attention while Krpata kept his threatening glare trained on us. I could hear Benno behind me whispering, ‘Jackass.’
‘You waiting for somebody to pick you up?’ said Krpata with suppressed rage. I looked around. Pedro was lazily getting up off the grass, smiling wryly. But no sooner had he stood up then he leaned over again and brushed off his knees.
‘Well? You about ready now?’ roared Krpata.
‘Take it easy,’ said Pedro. Krpata flushed and bristled. He strode sternly up to Pedro and stopped in fron
t of him. Pedro straightened up. He was about a head taller than Krpata but the sergeant was very solidly built. Then he yelled right into Pedro’s face.
‘What’s your name?’
Pedro twisted his mouth into a near grin. ‘Gershwin,’ he said.
‘You know where you are?’
‘Sure. At the brewery.’
‘Don’t try getting wise with me, and don’t think you’re going to get anywhere with your Schweik tricks either, because you’re not!’ bellowed Krpata. You could see he was trying to make up his mind whether he ought to start off his glorious training programme by marching Pedro off and locking him up in the cellar with Prema or not.
‘Wouldn’t think of it, sir,’ said Pedro. Krpata sliced him with another bitter look.
‘And stand up straight!’ he barked, but in a somewhat milder tone now. Pedro straightened up a bit.
‘Stomach in!’
Pedro sucked his stomach in and tilted slightly forward.
‘Toes out!’
Pedro stood there looking like a toe dancer.
‘Not so far out!’ bellowed Krpata.
Pedro stood practically pigeon-toed. Krpata studied him for a minute, then said, ‘All right. But I’m going to keep my eye on you.’ Then he turned and went back to stand in front of the crowd.
‘Prick,’ said Haryk quietly.
‘Form up behind me now, in a column of threes!’ shouted Krpata, and he turned to face the icehouse wall. Everybody milled around for a while and three straggly lines formed up behind Krpata. Guys were pushing and shoving, trying to line up according to height, and meanwhile Krpata stood there with his back to them, one hand stretched out towards the sky.
‘Let’s get in the back,’ said Benno. We headed for the rear. We stood right at the end of the line. Pedro, Lexa, and Fonda stood in front of me; Benno and Haryk and I brought up the rear. Far away I could see Krpata’s upraised hand. Then his hand came down and I heard him yell, ‘Line up!’
I took two steps to the right and stopped directly behind Lexa. I saw Krpata marching back along the column, checking every row. He was looking for us. I heard him stop behind us and then a roar: ‘About face!’
Feet flashed in front of me and I pivoted slowly. It reminded me of the time at the beginning of the war when I went to Sokol Hall on account of Irena and let myself be shoved and ordered around by Brother Vladyk. When I turned around, there was Krpata again. His eyes were sparkling with vicious glee. The dunce had tricked us. Now the three of us were at the head of the column. Krpata studied us a moment. Benno stood right in front of him.
‘I can see,’ said Krpata, ‘that some of you don’t even know how to execute a proper about face. Be so kind as to watch. I’ll demonstrate.’
He drew himself up stiff as a ramrod. ‘This exercise is executed in two stages. In stage one, you pivot on your left foot and move your right foot out to the side, like so. In stage two, you bring your right foot up next to the left. Like so.’ Like a billiard ball hit with just enough English, he spun around and clicked his heels.
‘Once more,’ he said, and did it again. We stood there watching him.
‘All right, now,’ he said. ‘Company! About face!’
You could hear feet scraping over the ground and clumping together. I did it in two stages as he said. We stood there with our backs to him.
‘Wonderful!’ he howled sarcastically behind us. ‘Company! About face!’
I spun again and saw Benno next to me, pivoting like an elephant. Krpata was watching him, too.
‘You now. By yourself,’ he said to Benno. ‘About face!’ Benno turned his back to him.
‘My God,’ said Krpata. ‘Did you even listen to what I was saying?’
‘Yeah,’ said Benno, with his back towards him. I could tell he was mad and embarrassed. He always used to get embarrassed in gym class and always did everything wrong. Like the time when that ju-jutsu instructor came to our school to demonstrate self-defence and, of course, picked Benno for his demonstrations and threw him around on the mat for a full hour, twisting his arms and legs until, finally, he sat down on top of him while he explained the theory of self-defence to the whole class.
‘Then kindly repeat what I said,’ said Krpata.
‘Well, first you pivot on one foot and put the other foot out and then bring it over,’ said Benno.
‘Then why didn’t you do it?’
‘I did.’
‘Nonsense! Now try it again. Company! About face!’ Benno turned back to face Krpata. A couple of clowns behind snickered.
‘You’re as graceful as a block of wood! See if you can’t move that big right foot of yours this time! Company! About face!’
Benno turned again.
‘Company! About face!’
Benno turned back.
‘Shift some of that flab of yours around, for Chrissake!’ howled Krpata. ‘Company! About face!’
Benno wanted to turn but just then Krpata bent down and grabbed his right foot and, as Benno turned, pulled. Only Benno, caught completely off guard, lost his balance and came down heavily on Krpata’s foot. Krpata let out a hiss of pain.
In the middle of the silence, Pedro chuckled. It wasn’t any joke, though, to have Benno sitting on your foot.
‘Up! Get up, you!’ roared Krpata and Benno scrambled up from the ground.
‘I’ve never seen such a clumsy ox in my life,’ said Krpata furiously. Then he turned and slowly went back to his place. He limped a bit, but tried to hide it.
‘Let’s hope they have to amputate,’ whispered Lexa behind me.
Krpata started in on his instruction course again.
‘The cornerstone of military training,’ he said, ‘is knowing what every order means. The order. “Forward march,” for example, is done this way.’
He made a half turn, stuck out his bemedalled chest and yelled at himself, ‘Forward, march!’ Then he flung out his left foot and started marching past our line without making any mistakes that I could see.
‘When the order “Halt!” is given,’ I heard him say as he marched along, ‘you come to a halt on your right foot, take one more step with your left, then bring your right foot up beside it. Like so.’ He came along briskly till he got to us, yelled ‘Halt!’ and clacked his boots together. Then he looked at us triumphantly as if waiting for us all to applaud.
‘Now let’s all try it,’ he said. ‘Just mark time, standing where you are. Atten-tion!’ He looked imperiously around the yard. It was as quiet as a graveyard. Then he let out a yell like an Apache: ‘Forward, march!’
I looked back and saw everybody tramping their feet up and down, looking embarrassed. The sun slid behind a small cloud and three long lines of guys marched away without going anywhere. ‘Left!’ howled Krpata. ‘Left! Shift that flab! Higher! Higher! Lift those feet!’ I could see him glaring at Benno. ‘Get some life into it!’ he bellowed. ‘You look like you’re going to a funeral!’ Benno was staggering from foot to foot like a camel, staring stupidly ahead at the sergeant, his eyes nearly bulging out of his head. He was red and shining with sweat. Then Krpata started off around the field. You could hear him howling remarks all over the place. The sun came out again and there we stood in the field behind the icehouse, marking time. Four guys went past the fence with a load of bazookas on their back. I stood there treading up and down and watched them until they disappeared around the corner. Then there wasn’t anything else to look at so I glanced at my watch. Quarter to twelve. We’d been tramping up and down there for a good five minutes. We kept it up a while longer and then Krpata bellowed ‘Halt’ and started telling us all about half turns and oblique turns and marching doubletime and about field equipment and outfits and about how a platoon is made up of a couple of riflemen and a reconnaissance man and a machine gunner and I don’t know what all and the sun beat down and we were sweating like down at the beach on the hottest summer day and Krpata kept on instructing us tirelessly there behind the icehouse and its white wall kept
on sparkling away in the sunshine. He showed us how to salute a lieutenant and a colonel and a general and how many steps ahead you start and how many steps after you can bring your hand down again and he picked out Pedro to demonstrate with and really kept him stepping, past him and back and over and over again, bawling him out the whole time, and making him do those turns and half turns and obliques all by himself out in front of everybody until even Pedro was red with anger, though he was usually the last person in the world to lose his temper. Finally we each got a wooden stick handed to us – dummy rifles from Sokol Hall – and Krpata taught us how to present arms, but he himself had a rifle and kept waving its polished muzzle under our noses. You couldn’t wear that guy down. When we took off our shirts because of the heat, he buttoned up the collar of his old uniform which he’d unbuttoned earlier and when we croaked from parched throats during the break he went right on roaring till we thought we’d go nuts. When we could hardly lift our feet after finishing that crazy stand-still march, he showed us how to hurdle obstacles and slip under wires, wriggling past us on his belly like a slug in a hurry. At first I found the whole thing a big joke but then the humour wore thin and I started getting mad and finally wound up hating that idiot sergeant standing there, in the pink of condition though a bit overweight for his size, bellowing orders like one of the German guards out at Messerschmidt, like Mr Uippelt, the supervising manager, a pompous fart, bursting with zeal and unable to get his voice down under a shout. Finally Krpata dismissed us and trotted briskly off towards the administration building.
As soon as he turned his back on us, Benno collapsed and rolled over on the grass. He was soaking wet with sweat.
‘Jesus H. Christ,’ he said and stretched out his legs. We sat down around him.
‘A turd. A genuine turd, that guy,’ said Haryk.
‘What’re you griping about?’ said Lexa. ‘You’ve got a complete military education in one short morning.’
The Cowards Page 31