Crack of Doom (22 page)

Giesinger said nothing. He had no wish to bring further humiliations on his head. Nor did the general seem to be expecting any answer, for he went on quickly: "As soon as the assault regiment is in Rozhanovce, I'm moving my headquarters there. Meanwhile you can go ahead and start looking for a suitable house. Take everything with you that isn't needed here."

"Right, sir," said Giesinger with relief: he was immensely pleased to get away from the general. But before he reached the door, the hated voice nailed him down again. "I'm still waiting for the battalion from Szomolnok."

"It should have been here long ago," said Giesinger.

"So should the reconnaissance unit. You didn't by any chance send that off to Szomolnok too?" The sarcasm sent the blood to Giesinger's head. "If the battalion isn't here by this evening, you've got a long night's march ahead of you."

"You'll be doing me a favor, sir, I assure you," said Giesinger.

Stiller gave him a cold stare. "Ill cure you yet of your impertinence. You will be receiving particular attention from me."

Schleippen came in and Giesinger took this as a dismissal. "Well, what have you got for me?" Stiller asked the lieutenant.

Schleippen put a signal down on the table. "Colonel Kreisel is just outside Rozhanovce, sir. He's asking what's happened to the artillery fire."

Stiller looked up in surprise. "But I gave him eight batteries."

"They can't fire any more," said Schleippen, putting a second signal down in front of him.

The general stared at it. It was from Colonel Conrad, the artillery commander, and stated bluntly that he had ordered his batteries on both sides of the road to stop firing, so as not to attract the attention of the Russians, who were pouring down the road to the west with over a hundred tanks and almost unending infantry columns. Stiller read the signal through three times before pushing it aside with a wooden movement. "Inform Kosice and corps, and report that in about ten minutes we shall be in Rozhanovce, cutting the Russians off from their only supply line. Got that?"

Schleippen scribbled the message on a piece of paper. "Right, sir."

"Then send off radio signals to Colonel Kreisel. He's to launch the attack on Rozhanovce immediately."

"Without artillery support, sir?"

"Yes. The artillery will take their guns to Rozhanovce as soon as the road is clear. Then I want a radio signal sent to Colonel Hopper, telling him to push through to Durkov."

"To Durkov," Schleippen repeated, writing it down, and left.

Stiller realized that the crucial point had been reached: if Conrad's report was right, Wieland and his hundred men must have met vastly superior forces, and the Russians might be in Kosice in two hours. A hundred tanks—it was far more than he'd imagined. They seemed to set great store by the attack on Kosice. If corps hadn't any more reserves, they'd not only take KoSice but also get the next fifty miles thrown in for free.

Schleippen's worried face appeared at the door. "The pioneer battalion, sir." ' "What about them?"

"They're coming back, sir."

Stiller had guessed as much. "Have the signals gone out?" he asked calmly.

"Yes, sir."

"Right, go and find me a tommy-gun, will you?" He got into his greatcoat, strapped the pistol on to his belt, and called the two officers from the next room, sending one to the two batteries behind Durkov and the other to fetch back the companies covering east. Then he went out into the street and waited till Schleippen returned with a tommy-gun.

A long file of men appeared behind the houses on the other side of the street. They were Kreisel's two companies which had stayed in Durkov to guard the village. Their commanders reported to Stiller, who sent them and their companies to the southern outskirts. Then he beckoned the other officers over to him, and looked impatiently across the street at the signals headquarters, where Schleippen and his platoon were just coming out. Collecting all the men standing around, the general led them off behind the two companies in the direction of the firing, which was increasing in violence. The tommy-gun shots sounded as if a hundred detonators had been thrown on to a hotplate simultaneously. In between came the cracking reports of the artillery, which had now concentrated its fire further south. The faces of the men behind Stiller betrayed their anxiety.

The village was about six hundred yards long, stretching along the valley in two rows of houses. In some places the valley was so narrow that there was only room for the road, which wound south with many bends. On its left, where the hills rose steeply, the wood came right up to the houses; but on the right several clearings made the land more visible. Looking south, Stiller could only see the last men, because the road was curving again. The houses were further apart now, and the ground fell away on one side to a small stream. He noticed a horse-drawn field howitzer rolling out into the road, and about thirty men mounting the rest of the guns on his side of the stream. He beckoned over the company commander, a lieutenant, and asked: "Where's your second battery?"

"At the northern end of the village, sir."

"I need it here in front," declared Stiller, pointing in the direction of the gunfire. "Bring it up to the last houses."

"But sir," the lieutenant protested in a shocked voice, "if we lose the horses, I'll have to leave the guns here."

"Harness your men to it," said Stiller brusquely. "I need the guns for direct firing."

Lieutenant Schleippen came up. "There's something moving up there, sir."

"Where?"

"Over to the right, sir."

Stiller looked, then narrowed his eyes and raised his binoculars: now he could see it distinctly. High above them there was a clearing in the wood, about a hundred and fifty yards wide. Right in the middle of it a dark line went through the snow; in the distance it seemed like a moving string of beads. It came out of the wood from the left, and disappeared again on the other side beneath the trees. When he adjusted the binoculars into clearer focus, Stiller saw that they were Russians. He watched them long enough to be sure it was at least a regiment. Perhaps it had been moving through like this for an hour already. They were marching from south to north and must come out on the road to Durkov—to Durkov or to Kosice.

He dropped the binoculars. Suddenly he realized something else. The Russian artillery fire was coming from due south, this was clear enough from the sound of the reports; so the batteries must be on the road somewhere between Slancik and Durkov—he was appalled. He rushed down the road, and when he got round the bend he saw the two companies. The men stood tightly pressed against the houses. He ran past them to the next corner, from where he had a good view of the landscape. It was only a few yards to the last houses, then came a long narrow gap; beyond it more wood, and the artillery fire was hitting between the wood and the end of the village. The place where the road went off into the wood seemed to have turned into an exploding powder barrel. Stiller was stunned. When he noticed the two company commanders by the last house, he asked: "What goes on here?"

"No idea, sir." The two officers had to shout to make themselves heard. One of them pointed forward. "Impossible to get through."

"Where's the pioneer battalion?" "At the edge of the wood—they can't get back." "But the artillery fire is coming from the south." "The whole fireworks is coming from the south. If the Russians move their fire this way, we can pack up."

"But there's one of our regiments in the south," cried Stiller.

The lieutenant shrugged his shoulders. "That's Russian artillery, sir."

"Impossible. The Russians haven't any road, except the one here. How should they get their artillery over the hills?"

"I don't know, sir, but that's Russian artillery. They dismantle their guns and drag the parts across."

Stiller thought quickly. "Bring your companies back to the crossroads and take up positions there, facing west. You can take the artillery with you, it doesn't need to come here."

The two company commanders looked at each other significantly, then they ran back to their men. Stiller beckoned Schleippen over. "I hope you've left a receiving set behind."

"Two, sir."

"Then see what's come in. I particularly want to know how things look with Hopper." He watched the artillery fire, realizing that it couldn't possibly come from Hopper, as he had half hoped: ten batteries firing at once could never have produced a barrage like this, and Hopper had only three. The bit of road between Durkov and the wood was practically plowed up, there was no more snow to be seen—the earth was black, ripped open by innumerable craters.

Stiller had seldom seen such marksmanship. The fire ranged about fifty yards from the village over the whole road along the left of the valley. At the edge of the wood it swung at a right angle straight across to the other side of the valley. Now he could watch it closely, he thought he had found its objective: to stop anyone coming in or out of the wood. It might have been meant to cut off the pioneer battalion s retreat, but seemed too great an effort for that purpose alone.

As he was pondering the point, he remembered Hopper again: perhaps the fire had something to do with his counter-attack, though he couldn't see why it should . . . Raising his binoculars, he scanned the edge of the wood, but there was nothing to be seen of the pioneer battalion; they must be still in the wood. The continuous gunfire gave an indication of the ferocity of the battle. Now and then single shots, or a whole salvo, whistled over the houses. The men behind Stiller would draw their heads in, while the officers shifted uneasily from one leg to the other.

He knew they were waiting for an order, but the decision he had to make was such a heavy one that he still hesitated. He had come up forward because he thought a battalion fleeing in disorder had to be made to stand firm. There was no longer any question of that; on the contrary, he now had to get the battalion back as quickly as possible. It it hadn't been for the artillery fire, he would have given the order for withdrawal already. He was quite aware that at least half of the pioneers would fall in the fire; but he was equally aware that unless he gave the order, none of them would get back at all. With a movement of his head he called over an officer, and ordered him to send three men into the wood. "They must keep over to the right, that's the best chance."

"They'll never make it, sir," said the officer.

Stiller looked past him. "I didn't ask for your opinion." He watched the officer detailing three men from the signal platoon. The men looked across at him furiously, and trotted along the road. "Hurry!" cried Stiller. They quickened their pace. After a bit they swerved half right off the road, running across the open space to the stream. Their pace became slower and slower, the nearer they came to the belt of fire.

Through the binoculars Stiller could see them lie down on their stomachs side by side, pressing their heads into the snow. Nor did they move when he sent an officer after them, who stopped about twenty yards behind and yelled at him. Stiller took the tommy-gun off his shoulder and rushed along himself. When they saw him, they got up quickly and hurtled onward. Now they were coming into the artillery fire. A shell exploded to the right of them. Two threw themselves on the ground again, while the third shot off toward the wood with head thrust forward, vanishing soon afterwards in a cloud of black smoke. The others crept along on their stomachs and reached the place where the first had disappeared. For a while there was nothing more to be seen of them, but then they suddenly reappeared, amid spurting fountains of snow, sprinting the last few yards to the wood.

Stiller returned to the houses, and waited. After a while the first men from the pioneer battalion came running out of the wood; Stiller had to stand by and watch them being pounded down by artillery fire. More men came swarming from the wood—and suddenly there was a new noise in the air. It began with an angry hiss, which seemed to come out of the dark snowy sky, and increased to a shrill howl. The men behind Stiller ran into the houses. For a second or two he felt tempted to give in to the instinctive movement of his legs, but by then it was too late to look around for cover; the air was already full of the screaming noise of shells.

He flung himself to the ground, pressed his face into the snow and held his breath. The explosions were so violent that he felt his head was going to burst. Half numb, he looked up. The village was in flames. Among the burning houses a swarm of screaming men and women was running to and fro in confusion and fright He saw the next shells burst right in the middle of them, then he scrambled to his feet. The whole snowy plain just outside the village was crammed full of yelling, running, leaping men, fleeing toward the houses between the bursting shells, tumbling over each other in writhing clusters and being literally torn apart.

Stiller turned and ran back. He blundered into a civilian, who was dragging a burning woman across the street; he stumbled over horrible bundles which lay in his path; he raced past houses, where appalling screams came from women and children; and when he reached his headquarters he found it blazing from top to bottom. The house with the signals office was still intact; he tore up the few steps. A door was open, he saw Lieutenant Schleippen there with a few men, packing up their radio sets and equipment. They swung round as Stiller came in, and Schleippen said quickly, "The assault regiment is in Rozhanovce."

Stiller took the signal from his hand and scanned it hastily. Then he looked up. "How about Hopper?"

"He can't go any further, sir. The Russians have penetrated into Slancik behind him. He asks if he may break through to Kosice." Let me see.

While he was reading the signal, Schleippen said: "And here's one from corps." This came from Kolmel and ordered that the positions be held at all costs. Stiller thrust the paper carelessly into his pocket. "Signal Hopper that we are waiting for him in Rozhanovce."

"Not Durkov, sir?"

"The Russians will be waiting for him in Durkov. He must push past them on the right or the left. Report to corps that I can hold Rozhanovce till this evening at the most. And Colonel Kreisel is not to go to the pass but to wait for me in Rozhanovce. When you're through with that, come to the crossroads."