‘Some fun,’ said Haryk, his voice shaking as the truck bounced.
‘You said it,’ said Lexa.
‘There will be more,’ I said, and it was all we could do to keep from falling when the driver cut the sharp corner by Jonas’s factory. We passed Krpata’s well-drilled company. They trudged slowly, but in perfect step, through the rain which was letting up now. You could see the sun dodging in and out behind the clouds. We drove through the outskirts of town where there wasn’t a soul on the street. Everybody had gone in. Then we passed the bunch of Russian POWs again, still hurrying towards the border. They yelled something at us but we didn’t stop. We drove through the spa section and turned left by the bunker that was still standing from 1938. Guys with rifles were lying along the railroad track by the highway. They waved. Then one of them in a leather coat with a red armband on his sleeve jumped out of the ditch next to the road and signalled for us to stop. The driver put on the brakes. The man in the leather coat stepped up on the running board and said something to the driver. Now that the motor was just idling, I could hear that familiar rumbling drone again. Tanks were somewhere not too far off. The man jumped down off the running board. We drove on.
‘I don’t like this,’ said Lexa softly.
The sun was breaking through the clouds in the west; it was still drizzling, though. To the east, right above the border, rose a rainbow. We were heading due east on the highway. Men stood waiting in the doorways of houses, with rifles in their hands. Empty trucks stood parked along the side streets. Then we could hear the roar of a tank even over the noise of our motor. By the old customs house we turned on to the asphalt road to the new customs house that stood between two rows of blossoming cherry trees. The rainbow arched over the valley and was reflected in the wet asphalt. And all of a sudden a German tank appeared just beyond the new customs house; it was coming straight at us. Frantically, the driver jammed on the brakes; the truck started skidding. All I had time to see was the cannon lifting slowly, then everything lurched and reeled as the truck swung around. My ears rang with the tremendous racket of motors roaring and men shouting. Jostled, and with guys slamming into me, I crouched and saw that some were going over the side of the truck. The sound of a machine gun cut through the noise of the motors; you could feel the bullets ripping right through the metal. I saw Lexa jumping over the side into nowhere. Then the rear of the truck was facing the tank and there I was, so close to it I could see the men in their camouflaged uniforms clustered around the turret. Another second and they were gone as the truck skidded further around. There were only a few guys left in it now. One of them rolled towards me, his face smashed, leaving a smear of blood. I gripped the side of the truck with both hands, then pulled myself up and over, came down on my hands, and rolled into a ditch full of water. The truck had slowed down by the time I jumped so I made a fairly soft landing. I lifted my head out of the water. A few yards ahead of me, the truck plunged into the ditch. Flames burst out of the radiator. Then the tank went by on the road above me. I could hear the loud chatter of the machine gun, the bullets whistling over my head into the field beyond. Men were running across the field towards the river. When I looked up again the tank was slowly moving off, its machine gun still blazing away. I was up to my neck in water. A man was lying in the field near me screaming. I glanced up to see where the tank was and heard it already clanking on the main highway that led into town. The machine gun was silent. I got up and looked around for the quickest way out of there. Lexa was just getting up on the other side of the road. He looked like he’d been rolling in mud and dirt. Blood was trickling down his forehead.
‘Lexa!’ I yelled. He saw me.
‘Come on!’ he shouted in a wild voice, and then turned and ran for a meadow that sloped up to the woods. There was a little stone dugout in the middle of the meadow; it was half fallen in, part of an old border defence system. I could still hear the roar of the tank motor but I couldn’t see anything else coming so I crawled up on the highway, ran across, jumped the ditch, and started up through the meadow towards the woods. The sun was shining brightly now and, off to the east, dark clouds were piling up along the horizon. The rainbow still arched over the valley. Lexa ran ahead of me, limping as he ran. I couldn’t feel anything wrong with me. Again I heard the roar of a motor from over by the customs house. Glancing back over my shoulder, I saw another tank moving rapidly along the highway. I ran as fast as I could up to the dugout and stopped for a second to look out over the whole highway and saw two more tanks headed our way. Then I didn’t look back, but made for the woods, which were close by now, stumbled into their shade and dropped. For a while I just lay there, then I realized I wasn’t alone. Dark figures with rifles were lying all around me, trying to dig in behind the trees. They’d scraped up little mounds of dirt and stones and were peering out over them towards the highway. I rolled over to an unoccupied tree and stretched out behind it. It was dark in the woods and you had a good clear view of the highway shining in the sun. Another tank pulled out from the customs house, turned, and headed slowly along the asphalt road towards the main highway. A couple of men were crouched inside the dugout straight ahead of us, about half-way between the woods and highway. I recognized Hrob’s red head. As the tank clattered along the road, Hrob knelt by the bunker and then I saw him aiming something at the tank. Flames and smoke flashed out of the end of the tube as a rocket flew out. It landed on the highway in front of the tank and started to burn. The tank stopped and men in camouflaged uniforms tumbled off on to the asphalt and scrambled into the ditches. The tank turret started to turn and the cannon was swivelling towards the stone dugout now. The crouching men stood up and ran for the woods. I watched Hrob, but he was still kneeling there, getting ready to fire off another rocket. The cannon was aimed straight at him now. I looked at Hrob. Again something flashed next to his head and smoke rolled out of the tube. Quickly I glanced back at the tank. But the tank just stood there and then something exploded a few yards in front of it and Hrob jumped up and made a dash for the woods. There was a terrific noise, then the whole dugout flew apart in a flash of flames and smoke. I saw Hrob pitching forward just before I pressed my face down against the ground. When I looked up again, he was back on his feet and running again. I heard something click next to me but didn’t look around. Down on the highway, a tall SS man got up from the asphalt, swung his rifle around and took careful aim at Hrob. A short dry shot rang out. Hrob threw out his arms and fell face down in the grass. The other SS men got up, scrambled back up on the tank, and off it went again. Again I heard a click next to me. I turned to see what it was. His Leica up to his eye, Berty Moutelik was crouching behind the next tree, taking pictures. The last tank passed along the highway. The rumble of the motors grew fainter. The sharp quick crack of rifles could be heard from town, then the longer rattle of machine-gun fire. I looked off towards the east. The highway was empty.
‘Well, they’re gone,’ I said and got up. Berty stood up, too, then he recognized me.
‘Oh, hello, Danny,’ he said.
‘Hi,’ I said.
We stepped out of the woods. Men started coming out from all over. Some had guns, some didn’t, most were covered with mud, a few were limping. I and a few other guys ran over to Hrob. I knelt down. He was lying with his face in the grass and in the back of his neck there was a big bloody hole. I turned him over on his back and could see he was dead. I got up.
‘Dead?’ somebody asked.
‘Yes,’ I said.
Some of the men were heading back down towards the road. I looked around and saw Lexa wiping his face with a handkerchief.
‘You hurt?’
‘No. Just tore up my face jumping out of that truck, that’s all.’
‘Where’s Haryk?’
‘I don’t know.’
Then, from around the side of the woods, came the sound of a motor again. We were racing back up for the woods when I heard people yelling and I looked around and saw that they’d stopp
ed farther down the slope and were looking off to the east, and then I saw a tank coming down the highway and this one didn’t look like the others.
‘Russians!’ somebody shouted. The tank was still glistening from the rain and on the side of its turret there really was a red star. It was true. it was the Russians. The tank disappeared for a minute behind the customs house, then there it was again. People swarmed out over the highway, waving and cheering. The tank stopped. Lexa and I walked over slowly. Soldiers wearing wide Russian blouses were jumping down from the tank and our men rushed up and hugged them. We walked slowly over towards the highway. My submachine gun thumped against my back as I walked and I shifted it around under my arm. We came up to the tank. There was a crowd of people around the tank and, all across the field, people were running over to join the crowd.
‘What say we see if we can find Haryk?’ I said to Lexa.
‘Sure,’ said Lexa and we headed towards the overturned truck in the ditch. The crowd around the Russian tank was screaming and laughing and shouting. We jumped down into the ditch and started looking for Haryk. Next to the truck lay a guy with his skull cracked open. Another lay on his belly a few feet away from him. He was still moving. I went up to the cab of the truck and looked in. There was the driver, upside down and all shot up and splotched with burns. In the meantime Lexa had crawled into the ditch under the truck.
‘Is he there?’ I called.
‘No,’ came Lexa’s voice.
‘Come on out,’ I said.
And then the shouting around the tank changed pitch. Out of the old customs house ran a bunch of men waving their rifles. Lexa scrambled out from under the truck and stood next to me. The men with the rifles were running towards us now, yelling something we couldn’t understand, and then the roar of motors started up from somewhere and I stared at the men and I knew then what it was they were saying.
‘The Germans are coming back!’ they yelled. The crowd around the tank suddenly dispersed, leaving only the Russians who glanced around for a second, then understood, too, what was going on. I wanted to get back to the woods but it was already too late. A couple of Russians jumped into the ditch in front of us and flopped down on their bellies. We got down, too. I swung my submachine gun around and rested its barrel on top of a highway marker. The Russian tank gunned its motor beside me and clanked off. I looked up the stretch of road ahead. A German tank had just emerged from between the two last houses in town. The Russian tank stopped and I saw the German cannon swing around and then both tanks started firing at the same time. The noise was earsplitting as chunks of metal whistled and sang overhead and the highway flashed with bursts of light. Flames were coming out of the Russian tank. A shot rang out right in front of me. The Russians leaped out of the ditch and rushed forward. The German tank was burning, too. I scrambled up on to the highway and took off after the Russians. Somebody was getting set to jump off the German tank. I heard the crack of a rifle and the German fell. I ran along after the Russians. They stopped running some way off from the tank to see if anything else was going to come out, but nothing did. Suddenly it was very quiet. Then more men came out of the ditches. Flames were licking out of the German tank and smoke billowed out of it. I stood there next to the Russians. A guy wearing a red armband rushed up and started talking to them. A couple of seconds later a whole crowd had gathered again.
‘Any more Germans coming?’ someone called out.
‘It doesn’t look like it.’
‘We ought to get the wounded out of here.’
The guy with the red armband waved his hand. ‘You all ought to get back and take cover. There may be more Germans coming through.’
‘And the wounded?’
‘Take them over to the old customs house.’
‘You mean you think there’re more Germans coming along behind that Russian tank?’
‘Yes,’ said the guy with the red armband.
‘How could that happen?’
‘Well, that’s what comrade captain here says anyway.’
It was the first time I’d ever heard the word ‘comrade’ used seriously.
‘The Russians must have got ahead of them somewhere along the line.’
‘Looks that way.’
‘All right, come on, let’s look after the wounded.’
‘Come on, Lexa,’ I said.
‘Aren’t we going to look for Haryk?’
‘Oh, he’s probably just lying low someplace. Let’s go down to the customs house. If he’s been hurt, they’ll bring him there.’
We went to the old customs house. The men had spread out in groups across the fields and some were already carrying back the wounded. A truck pulled up in front of the customs house. We stood there, watching them bring in the wounded and lift them up into the truck. The guy with the red armband was supervising the loading.
‘Leave the dead here. We’re just taking the wounded this time,’ he told the men who’d brought Hrob down. Soldiers carried in two Russians from the tank. I looked at my watch. It was five.
Somebody yelled, ‘Here’s an Englishman or something.’
‘Where?’ I said right away.
‘You know English?’ the guy with the red armband asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Go over and talk to him.’
A man in an English uniform was lying on the ground groaning softly. I bent over him.
‘Are you hurt?’ I asked. He opened his eyes and nodded.
‘Where?’
‘Don’t know,’ he said between his teeth.
‘He doesn’t know where he’s hurt.’ I told the guy with the red armband. There were no obvious wounds that I could see.
‘You better go along to the hospital with him,’ said the guy. ‘You may have to translate.’
‘All right,’ I said. They loaded the Englishman into the truck.
‘We get everybody?’ the guy asked.
‘I guess so,’ somebody said.
‘Then get going.’
‘So long, Lexa,’ I said and got in next to the driver.
‘So long,’ said Lexa. I slammed the door shut and looked out. Some guys with rifles were standing with a bunch of Russians on the wet highway. A clouded sun shone on them and there was a singed smell in the fresh air. The truck started off. I leaned out of the window for a look at the two still-smoking tanks facing each other on the road. A light breeze blew the smoke low along the ground and across the meadows to the river. Above the hills of the frontier, big clouds were stacking up in tremendous mountains of their own. The figures on the field receded. I looked around at the driver. Gripping the steering wheel, he stared ahead nervously. The wet pavement shone and, in front of the houses, men and kids stood, rifles in hand. Lots of them, I noticed, were wearing red armbands now. As we turned off the highway towards the bunker and the spa, I saw a gang of German soldiers. Wearing camouflaged ponchos and walking along with their hands up, they were being herded along by a few raincoated men with their rifles at the ready. We’d passed the bunker by then and were driving through the outskirts of town. I leaned back and lay my submachine gun across my knees. For the first time my muscles and brain relaxed. I felt a tremendous calm relief. This was a real uprising! With a feeling of deep satisfaction, I closed my eyes. Again I could see the wet asphalt road, the rainbow, the German tank glistening from the rain, the steam rising above its hot motor, and then that frantic moment when I was so close to it I could smell its mammoth steel body and the whole world started to spin and then falling into the cold water in the ditch and the treads of the tank clanking above me over the asphalt and the bullets whistling through the air into the field, and everywhere and always that terrifying deafening din.
The truck drove through the outskirts of town and the little red-roofed houses flashed past and, thinking back on all that had happened, I was glad. I could still see Hrob throwing out his arms before pitching over on to the grass and the turret of the tank rotating with deadly calm and the speckled figures of
the SS men leaping down on to the asphalt and into the ditch. I felt the submachine gun lying across my knees and realized I hadn’t even fired a shot. I was overcome with regret; I’d missed my big chance. And I could just see me lying there in the ditch, the muzzle sticking up over the side of the road and that grey iron German giant coming towards me. My God, why hadn’t I fired? My fingers longed to pull the trigger now but now it wouldn’t do much good. The gun lay in my lap, silent and cold, and it was too late now to feel sorry. My God, up there in the deep shade of the woods with the whole landscape in front of me like in the palm of my hand and that bunch of SS men clinging on to the tank – I could have fired then. But I hadn’t. I hadn’t fired a single shot. All I did was gawk at the tank and then run away. It made me furious. We drove past the station and across the bridge and up towards the hospital. I was furious. The wet branches of a weeping willow swished against the window. The hospital gates were wide open and a man in a white coat stood off to one side waving us in and, as we got up to him, he jumped on the running board, leaned in through the open window and hung on to the handle of my door.
‘You got casualties?’ he shouted.
‘Yeah,’ I said. There was an odd look of respect in his eyes as he looked me over. Then I realized I must look pretty impressive with my mud-spattered submachine gun lying in my lap and my clothes caked with mud and dirt. I must look pretty terrific, in fact. I just wished Irena could see me like that, and the thought made me feel pretty satisfied with myself again.
‘Many?’ the man asked.
‘Enough,’ I said.
‘It must have been pretty bad up there.’
The Cowards Page 35