Crack of Doom (15 page)

"She's hiding in the stable."

"Bring her over here," Nikolash ordered.

A few minutes later Sztraka returned with his wife, who was weeping.

"What's the matter with her?" asked Nikolash.

"She's scared about her house."

"Nobody's going to take the hovel away from her. Did you see the Germans?"

"No, I didn't see them, but my wife heard one of them screaming."

"Then he's still alive. You and your wife go to another house till it's over."

"I can help you people," said Sztraka.

This offer did not displease Nikolash. He had enough sub-machine guns in the house, and although Sztraka wasn't a partisan, it might be better to keep him around. "All right, but your wife must go."

While Sztraka was taking his wife away, Nikolash explained what had happened. "We must finish with them before the third comes back. He may be bringing more with him."

"Then we'd be fools to stay here," said Margita.

"That remains to be seen. Andrej's men will arrive by around three, and if things get bad, we've still the thirty men in Meczenzef. I could send someone to them—Sztraka for instance."

He was wondering about this when Sztraka returned, apologizing for his wife. "Women are terrible in this sort of thing."

"Not all of them," Nikolash remarked, looking at Margita. She was wearing a shirt with red ribbons on the elbows, a low-cut bodice fitted tightly around her narrow waist, a short skirt hanging down to her knees in many folds, and high red boots reached up to her calves. She's one of the women you can't get enough of, thought Nikolash, and turned to Sztraka. "Do you know your way about in Svedler?"

"I've got a brother living there."

"So much the better. Go to see Hodscha. His house is the third on the right. Tell him that Matuska's to bring his men along. He'll know what to do."

"I've got my coat over in the house," Sztraka objected timidly.

"Give him one of mine," Nikolash told Margita.

When Sztraka had gone, Margita returned and her face was angry. "If I were a man I'd have given him the whip instead of a coat."

"I prefer you without a whip," said Nikolash, putting his arms around her from behind. With closed eyes she let him feel over her body.

Nikolash pressed his face to hers. "How would you like to travel with me to Dobsina, and later to Prague. Would you like that?"

"What'U you do there?"

"I need a change of air. If all goes well, our divisions will be here tomorrow."

She looked at him in amazement. "And you're only telling me now?"

"I've only just heard. Tonight the organization will be transferred to DobSina. Pushkin's sending a sledge for us. You'll come on it, won't you?"

"Perhaps."

"Only perhaps?"

"At least perhaps. But I’ll have to think it over first."

Her reaction disappointed him. He was about to draw her to him, when a tommy-gun barked. He went on his knees, and pulled her down by his side. Then he realized that the shot hadn't been aimed at
them.
There was a clatter at the side window, Andrej leaped into the room like a panther, landing on all fours alongside them. Now the shots whipped through the front window, as the three of them lay pressed against the floor. The rain of shots shattered the pictures on the wall and made big holes in the door that led to Margita's room. Then the firing stopped, as suddenly as it had started.

"I've had enough of this," said Nikolash.

"Why the devil didn't you warn me?" panted Andrej.

"You should have sent us a postcard to say you were coming." Nikolash crept to the window on the street side, and fired the magazine empty. "Just to show them we're still alive."

Sliding along to the door, Margita sat up and leaned against the wall. Still pale with shock, she asked Andrej: "Were they shooting at you?"

"Who else d'you think? There's a car coming here."

Nikolash stopped in the act of putting in a new magazine. "What sort of a car?"

"I followed your tracks. From the place where you came out of the wood one can see into the road on the other side, and there was a car just passing there."

"A truck?"

"No, a small one—like the one of the general."

"Then they'll be here any minute." Nikolash ran to the other window, which gave a view on to part of the road, till it was hidden by the next house. "Has the general left?"

"Yes, I sent Zepac off with him at once. . . ." Andrej broke off, gripped Nikolash by the shoulder and pulled the window open. The German car, with five people in it, was now appearing from behind the next house. Nikolash saw a face behind its windscreen which made him gasp; his face twisted to a grimace as he fired a rain of shots; Andrej was also firing.

It was forty yards to the car, and three men jumped out of it. Above his gun Andrej noticed the windshield blowing in. He aimed at the three men, saw one of them stumble. He had the man right in the sights, and because it was Orid Krasko, he emptied the whole magazine into his body. Krasko fell to the ground, the other two men raced on; before Andrej could change the magazine, they had disappeared. Now he heard a tommy-gun rattling away from the other side of the street; the shots whipped through the room behind him. He swung round, and his heart missed a beat: Margita lay motionless by the other window. Then he saw her move her head and look at Nikolash. She gave a sign with her hand, then all three got up and beat the dust off their clothes.

Nikolash took Margita's arm. "What was the matter with you?"

"I was just shocked," she answered. "The glass came into my face."

"I'll flay them alive for that," vowed Nikolash without smiling. He looked out of the window at the car. There were two men lying motionless on the front seats. He could see the uniform of one, whose arm hung rigidly out of the window. The other had his blood-stained face against the windscreen, and Orid Krasko lay in the street. The other two must have escaped into Sztraka's house. He looked at Andrej, who was standing by him and staring out at Orid Krasko's body. "He's always been a traitor," said Andrej.

Nikolash laughed softly. "Not always; only when he was trying to save his own skin. Now he won't have to worry about his skin any longer."

"Something's gone wrong in Kosice."

"We'll hear about it when Poniatowski comes," Nikolash answered, watching the Germans' shots smacking against the door. The fire became briefer and briefer, then stopped altogether.

"They're holding a palaver," remarked Andrej.

Margita put her hand on Nikolash's shoulder. "Shouldn't we clear off?"

"Then we must wait till Andrej's men come." "That'll be a party all right," said Nikolash, reaching down inside her shirt. Andrej watched with unconcealed disgust.

CHAPTER

8

General Stiller arrived when Giesinger was about to give orders for the transfer of divisional headquarters to Jaszo. With the general were two new staff officers, and also the corps commander's aide, Colonel Kolmel. After the last telephone conversation with Giesinger, he had jumped into his car and gone after the general; he found him on the road between Szomolnok and Meczenzef. The road was slippery and winding, and in the middle of the forest the car had skidded at a hairpin bend, rolled down a bank and rammed a tree.

Kolmel invited the general and other officers to travel in his car, and they arrived in Ko§ice six hours late, just as the first supply units were preparing to leave the town on their own initiative. Stiller had two paymasters arrested, demoted five sergeants to the ranks, and arrived at divisional headquarters fuming with rage. He dashed up the steps, followed by the other officers, and yelled for Giesinger.

Giesinger was sitting in Hepp's room, anxiously studying the last flagged positions in the map. When he heard Stiller's voice he rushed to the door.

"So you're Giesinger, are you?" said the general, stepping up to him with scarlet face. "Who gave orders for the supply column to evacuate the town?"

Giesinger looked into his furious eyes. "A precautionary measure," he said breathlessly, "purely that."

"Purely that!" Stiller's voice almost squeaked. He turned to Kolmel and the other officers. "Did you hear that? A precautionary measure?"

"Did you give the order?" asked Kolmel.

Giesinger fought for breath. "Not to evacuate, sir. We simply gave orders to stand by for a move."

Stiller beckoned over Captain Hardorff, who had just come out of his room, and told him to make sure nobody in the division left the town. "Only with my express permission," he added. Then, turning back to Giesinger, he asked how things looked at the front.

It was the question Giesinger had been waiting for tensely the last hour. His haggard face grew taut "The Russians are through, sir."

"What's that?"

"We did what we could," said Giesinger desperately.

Stiller stepped past him into Hepp's office. "Let's hear the position," he told Hepp, who was standing stiffly at attention by the table. Hepp's account was worse than he had imagined. Colonel Wieland had withdrawn his command post to Durkov and the Russians were in Rozhanovce; Wieland's last radio signal reported the decimation of his battalions. Colonel Hopper, also in great difficulties, had dug in at Slancik. Only Colonel Scheper was still holding his old positions, having sent one of his forward battalions south to protect his open flank. "Here's his latest signal, sir," said Hepp, pushing it across the table to Stiller.

The general thrust it aside carelessly. "Where's the assault regiment?"

"It should be in Rozhanovce by now, sir. Colonel Kreisel was to counter-attack on both sides of the road. He's got the pioneer battalion with him."

"How about the reconnaissance unit?"

"It had orders to go to Slancik, but Colonel Hopper signals that it hasn't arrived yet. Major Giesinger was going to redirect it to Rozhanovce, but we don't know if Major Fuchs ever got that signal."

Stiller turned to Kolmel. "What do you say to that?"

"It's incredible," answered Kolmel, looking at the map. He turned his long, horsy face to Giesinger. "You should have sent the pioneer battalion to Hopper, too. The assault regiment would have been enough on its own for the counter-attack at Rozhanovce."

"When I gave that order, things weren't too bad in Hopper's sector," Giesinger objected.

"Hopper was left high and dry the moment Wieland evacuated his positions."

"So was Colonel Scheper."

"The assault regiment could have taken that over too. If Hopper has dug in at Slancik, the Russians can march through unhindered between Slancik and Durkov."

"The reconnaissance unit. . . ."

"That was far too weak on its own. Besides you don't even know where it is at the moment. And where on earth's your reserve battalion? Is that with the assault regiment too?"

Giesinger moistened his dry lips with his tongue. The eyes of all the officers were on him. He looked helplessly at Hepp, but Hepp had taken off his glasses and was contemplating them with interest: I can't expect any help from him, thought Giesinger. Behind the general he fleetingly noticed the pale face of Lieutenant Pfeiffer, who at once lowered his eyes. It was so quiet in the room that the wood could be heard crackling in the fire. Giesinger hunted for words. Everything he had rehearsed for this moment now seemed trite and unconvincing. The conversation he had been hoping to have with the new general had turned into something like a court-martial hearing; there was no alternative but to answer Kolmel's question. "The reserve battalion should be getting here any minute."

"Getting here from where?"

Again Giesinger moistened his lips. Without looking, he could feel a glance of protest from Pfeiffer. He pulled himself together. "The battalion has been in Szomolnok. We were ... it was to search for the general."

"For me?" asked Stiller in amazement.

Giesinger looked at his powerful jaw and from there into his eyes, which were glacial. His thick hair lay very straight over a narrow scalp that might have been hewn out of rock. The question offered a temptation, and for a moment Giesinger thought he saw a chance; but then he remembered Hepp and Pfeiffer, who were gazing at him intently. Trying to save what he could, he answered: "Well, I
was
thinking of that, sir, because we were worrying about you."

"Thinking of what?"

"Of trying to find you, sir. The battalion was already on its way, you see."

"To search for General Marx?" inquired KolmeL

"Yes, sir."

"Who gave the order for that? You perhaps?"

"Yes, sir."

"Without informing me?"

"I take full responsibility."

"For the Russians having broken through?"

"If I may say so, sir, Captain Schmitt with his hundred men. . . ."

"Hundred and fifty."

"With his hundred and fifty men he couldn't have held up the Russians."

"How do you know?"

"Experience. . . ."

"What experience? Yours? In Synewidsko fifty men under one of your captains saved the whole division, simply by staying in the trenches. And then you start talking about experience." He turned abruptly to the general. "This is the first I've heard about it, sir. With that battalion the gap could still have been blocked in time."

"Of course." Stiller came close to Giesinger. "When did you send the battalion off?"

"Yesterday evening, sir. But there are already trucks on their way to fetch them back again."

"Yesterday evening! Without informing corps! Simply sent a battalion off! Have you the faintest idea what you've done?"

Giesinger felt his knees giving. "I was only acting in the general's interests."

Stiller gasped. "As the general's deputy," he burst out, "the division's interests were all you had to concern yourself with, instead of sending your men across the countryside on a wild goose chase."

"Time will show whether it was that."

"What d'you mean?"

"We don't know yet how the search has gone."

"You aren't seriously telling us the general has been found?"

"We shall see when the battalion comes back."

Stiller looked across at Kolmel, who made an impatient gesture. "Even if you were successful, it would be in no proportion to the mess you've made."

"Perhaps it isn't as bad as all that," said Giesinger, who was beginning to feel firm ground again. Growing reckless, he added: "Besides, the position here can't be held much longer anyhow, with the Russians in the south . . ."

"I don't care a damn what the Russians are doing in the south," Kolmel interrupted furiously. "That's the business of the higher command. I am responsible for the corps. Put me on to the corps commander."

Giesinger realized he had overstepped the mark. With ashen lips he went to the telephone. When corps answered, he handed the receiver to Kolmel. The conversation was short, and to his relief Kolmel did not mention the reserve battalion.

Replacing the receiver, Kolmel turned to Stiller: "The general wants me to go up forward and take a look at things. Will you come with me, sir?"

"Of course. To Durkov?"

"Rozhanovce would be better. I must find out where the assault regiment is." He instructed Hepp to collect every possible man from the supply column, take them to Durkov as quickly as he could, and there report to Colonel Wieland. "If the reserve battalion is back by then, take that with you as well." Kolmel turned to Giesinger. "And you'll come with
us,
it will give you a chance to see just what you've done. If we can't push the Russians back over the pass, it will be a black day for you."

Giesinger went to his room to get ready. Before he even had his greatcoat on Kolmel stuck his head in. "Do I have to send you a formal invitation?"

Digging his hands into his pockets, Giesinger sat in the car beside the driver and abandoned himself to a chain of gloomy thoughts. He had hoped the road would get worse and it would be impossible to drive any further. He began conjuring up the grimmest pictures, and saw himself marching off to captivity under escort of Russian soldiers. Instinctively he felt for his wrist watch, which had been left him by his father and was very valuable.

The valley narrowed, and the road began to lead uphill with many sharp bends. A noise shook Giesinger out of his reverie. The general heard it too, and told the driver to stop. He and Kolmel stuck their heads out of the car. Artillery fire was distinctly audible somewhere behind the hills they must negotiate. The harsh bark of the guns, increasing at times to a protracted roar, sounded ghostly enough under the grey winter sky, rumbling like distant thunder behind the dark backdrop of mountains covered by low-lying clouds.

"Must be at the pass," said Stiller.

"Sounds like it," Kolmel agreed.

Ahead of them an ambulance emerged from the snow storm, then another. "Just the people I want to speak to," said Stiller, jumping out on to the road.

The ambulances stopped, and the door of the first was pushed open. A corporal climbed out and reported: apparently they had been attacked by rifle fire a mile behind Durkov.

"Which means the Russians have by-passed Durkov," said Stiller, looking worried. "What else do you know?"

The corporal mentioned that the assault regiment was still in Durkov, at which Stiller shook his head. "What's Kreisel doing in Durkov at all?" he asked Kolmel. "He was supposed to go to Rozhanovce."

"I can imagine what happened, sir," said Kolmel. "Kreisel attacked on both sides of the road, as ordered. When he found his flank being rolled up, he withdrew to Durkov. Wieland really doesn't seem to have a single man left up forward."

"So the road's open to the Russians."

"The assault guns are still on the road, sir," put in the corporal.

"Where?"

"At the crossroads where the road forks off to Durkov, sir."

"How many?"

"Four, sir."

"There should be eight," said Kolmel. "Is the place where you were attacked before or after the crossroads?"

"After from here, sir. The fire came from a clearing on the right."

Kolmel looked at his map, then asked the corporal a few more questions. "A nice cheerful position," he remarked to Stiller. "No pioneer battalion, no reconnaissance unit, no contact with Hopper." He returned to Giesinger with a frown. "I suppose we can write off the reconnaissance unit. Did you at least tell Major Fuchs how things looked in Hopper's sector?"

"When I sent him off, everything was still intact there."

"Then you should have sent a dispatch rider after Fuchs. He must have walked straight into a. . . ." He suddenly broke off. "There's something wrong, though." Kolmel frowned. "You can drive on," he said to the corporal in charge of the ambulance.

The corporal hesitated. "We've seen a sergeant, sir, he had twenty or thirty men with him. I think they were running away."

"Where did you see them?"

"On the road, sir. You're bound to meet them."

Kolmel exchanged a glance with the general, then they both went back to the car. "Drive on," Stiller told the driver tersely, barely leaving Giesinger time to get in. Neither the general nor Kolmel seemed to notice he was there.

For half an hour no one spoke a word. The road was still going through thick woodland, but the gradient was gradually flattening out. Stiller ordered a stop at one point, where the ground fell away sharply on the left, giving a view on to an expanse of snowy landscape. The artillery fire sounded so close here that the reports could be distinguished from the explosion of the shells. The echo too was very distinct now, rolling over the mountains in a muffled thunder; in the snow storm all noises sounded as if they were heard through a wad of cotton batting.

"Let's have a look at this," Stiller said to Kolmel and climbed from the car. They crossed the road and stood gazing down into the valley. Across the narrow, wooded valley huge mountains piled up into the leaden sky. It was a sight of desolate grandeur and the two men stood spellbound until Kolmel nudged the general and pointed to a long line of men who came trudging along the road. About forty yards away they halted and stared at the general.

"Major Giesinger," Stiller called.

Giesinger jumped out of the car. "Yes, sir."

"Bring those men over here."

Giesinger ran over to them and spoke to their leader, a tall man in winter uniform, who now came toward the general, his men trotting miserably behind him. "Sergeant Scheubele of the 2nd Company, 318 Regiment," he reported to Stiller.

"Wieland's regiment," commented Kolmel.

"Where are you going?" asked Stiller.

"We're falling back to regroup, sir."

"At Kosice?"

The sergeant did not answer. Stiller tore the sergeant's stripes off and flung them on the ground. "At Kosice, of course!" he repeated scathingly.