Crack of Doom (26 page)

The telephone belonged to the supply column of an artillery regiment. When Stiller heard from the switchboard there that they could still get through to corps, his heart began to thump.

"The colonel is not here," said the man at the switchboard, when Stiller asked for Kolmel.

"Then give me the corps commander," Stiller ordered, announcing who he was. There was a moment's silence at the other end. Then the voice said hastily: "I’ll put you on to Colonel Kolmel, sir."

'Why didn't you in the first place?" said Stiller. At last he heard Kolmel's incredulous voice: "Is it really you?"

"I suppose you'd already written me off?"

Kolmel did not answer at once, and Stiller heard him talking to someone. Then he said: "To be frank, yes. Where are you now?"

"Margitfalva. My whole division has been wiped out, including the assault regiment"

"So I've heard."

"Then I don't need to tell you anything more. What's happened to my HQ at Kosice?"

"Ask the Russians—they know better than I do. After all, you gave orders that no one should leave the town without your express permission."

Stiller gripped the receiver so tightly that his fingers hurt. "I lost all contact with Kosice. We had to fight our way through the Russians with our bare fists."

"Really? You must have been damned lucky. And you're now in Margitfalva?"

"Yes."

"I was just going off myself," said Kolmel. "The commanding general's already gone to Spisska Nova Ves. We'll expect you there."

Stiller noticed that he wanted to end the conversation, and said: "Why didn't you send me the tank division? We'd have taken the pass back with that."

"The pass has lost its importance, we'd have evacuated it tonight anyhow."

Stiller's voice was hoarse with rage. "Then why the devil did you send that signal to me at Rozhanovce?"

"Which signal, sir?"

"The one ordering me to hold the position."

"That came from the general. Security cover for withdrawal operation. The whole army's going back-rectification of the front. That was why I had to go to Kosice."

"Then the tank division's counter-attack on KoSice was only launched to camouflage operations?"

"That was more than camouflage. If we hadn't held Kosice, we couldn't had got corps out. I'll explain it all to you in Spisska Nova Ves. You say you fought your way out with your bare fists?"

He sounded incredulous. Stiller lost his temper again. "Colonel Kreisel, who is here with me now, can confirm the facts if you like. He hasn't a single man left from his whole regiment. Frankly, I can't get over the fact that my whole division had to be wiped out for security reasons."

"You'll get another."

"So I should hope. I trust I'm not being left high and dry. You may as well tell the commanding general that I refuse to take responsibility for the loss of Rozhanovce. Major Giesinger ..."

"Bring him along," said Kolmel curtly. "The general knows all about it. And now, you'll really have to excuse me. If you hurry, we can have breakfast together in Spisska."

Stiller heard him hang up. For a moment he stood looking at the telephone in disgust. Then he turned to Kreisel. "We're going to Spisska Nova Ves."

"How did he take it?" asked Kreisel.

"As 1 expected. They mean to hold Giesinger to account."

"Thank God for Giesinger," remarked Kreisel, rising and putting on his gloves. Stiller regarded him thoughtfully. "Yes, if it hadn't been Giesinger, it might have had to be you."

He turned on his heel and went ahead through the door.

CHAPTER

12

Early in the afternoon, Kubany and his men arrived. They were in a state of excitement. Just before they reached the house they had seen a man, apparently a German, race along the edge of the wood on the other side and disappear into the house across the street.

"That must be the third man from yesterday," said Andrej.

"And he's still alive—fumblers!" Nikolash regarded Kubany with contempt.

"How was I to know. . . ." Kubany looked from him to Andrej in bewilderment. Andrej explained about the Germans in the house across the street and Kubany whistled through his stubbly beard. He and his men could hardly be distinguished from one another. They all wore fur caps, long sheepskin coats and their bearded faces were hoary with snow that now began to melt and dribble to the floor.

Margita entered carrying a tray with glasses and a large bottle. "You must drink something to warm up," she said to the men, putting the glasses down on the table. Andrej looked at her with admiration. She always brought a friendly touch into this business so that one was reminded they were all friends and neighbors who had known each other for a long time and who were now fighting for
their
village, and their old peaceful, peasant life. At moments like that he was proud of her and thought what a good wife she would make for some better man than Nikolash. Before Nikolash came into the house she often said she would only be interested in a man if he were something like Andrej—whom she had loved with all a sister's hero-worship of an elder brother. They had quarreled badly three years ago when he had first become involved with his girl Elizabeth: she told him Elizabeth was too simple for him, that he must marry some fine lady if he was one day going to move to Prague. Remembering that Margita had suggested selling the farm after the war and starting a new life with him in Prague, Andrej looked up at her and grinned. Noticing his expression she looked puzzled and then pleased and, giving him a scuff on the head while passing, she left again.

Nikolash was explaining to the men that he had sent for Matuska's group, who should arrive within two hours. The men nodded gravely and raised their glasses with an air of relief. Matuska had a truck. He was the owner of a sawmill, and when he and his men had a partisan's job on hand, he loaded them on his truck dressed as lumberjacks and drove to the site of the operation. So far the Germans had never guessed that this sawmill, so important for their war effort, was the cover for the partisan band which for years had given them a lot of trouble. Matuska was a man of iron and just now you couldn't have wished for a better support.

Nikolash yawned and went into the next room to speak to Margita.

"Did you know that Andrej means to stay here?" he asked.

"Where-in Oviz?"

"Yes. He's not going to Dobsina."

"I never expected he would. Andrej can't
th
ink of anyone but Elizabeth, and I don't want to spend
the
rest of my life under the same roof with her. Nor do I want to spend the rest of my life in Oviz."

"Of course not. A woman like you shouldn't be condemned to this one-horse village. Ill talk to Pushkin. He has connections in Prague. He knows people there with so much money they could buy up half the town."

"That's the sort of man one wants," said Margita.

So it's like that, is it, thought Nikolash. His vanity was hurt that all this time, while he had thought she was in love with him, her whole idea was to marry some rich man in Prague. "So that is what you're after," he said furiously, digging his fingers into her shoulder. "Do you really think I'll let you go so easily?"

"You're not intending to marry me, are you?" she mocked.

He started, then released her arm. "Suppose I were?"

"Oh no!" her mouth opened wide. "Nikolash thinking of marriage!"

"Why not? Aren't I good enough for you?"

"Oh, certainly. I'm just surprised, that's all. Yesterday you wouldn't hear of it. . . . You're joking."

Yes, of course I'm joking, Nikolash thought, sobering up. I'm beginning to get old, and when men get old, they should stop going with young women. . . .

Margita regarded his somber face with curiosity. "What's the matter with you all of a sudden?"

"Nothing," he answered curtly.

"You men are all the same," she said in a contemptuous voice, "when you've had enough of a woman, you don't mind how you treat her."

She left him standing and went out to the others. Looking around she asked where Andrej was. One of the men pointed up at the ceiling. "Up in the attic with Karasek, I think." Margita went to look for him and met him as he came down the stairs. "Take something up for Karasek to drink," he told her. "I've put
him
up in the loft to keep watch and it's very cold." She nodded and went into the kitchen while Andrej re-entered the room where the men greeted him with an air of exuberance. Kubany was grinning from ear to ear. "I forgot to mention," he said. "I've brought a present for you."

Andrej gaped at the object in his hands. "A mortar bomb," he said in amazement. "Where did you get it?"

"I've had it in my house for a few weeks now," declared Kubany. "I just remembered this morning. Kubany, I said to myself, didn't you pick up a mortar bomb at Vereshegy a few weeks ago? Haven't you got a mortar bomb somewhere right in this house?—and sure enough, it was still lying there. Here it is. Isn't it just the thing we needF'

He pressed it into Andrej's hand.

"Yes, it is, by God," said Andrej, studying it from all angles. "We can blow up the whole shop with this."

"Not my house?" cried Sztraka, who had returned a little earlier and was listening with a more and more worried face.

Andrej laid a hand on his shoulder. "You still haven't realized what this is all about. If only one of the Germans escapes, we'll all hang for it and so will you. If your furniture is more important to you than your neck, then you can get yourself hanged for all I care."

Going very pale, Sztraka sat down and looked despondently at the window. "I wish I'd known," he said.

"Well, you know now," Andrej turned to one of his men: "Look here, Hilbert. With the bomb we don't need to wait till it's dark. Two of us will keep the window under fire. When you're near enough to the house, we'll stop shooting."

"I'd rather you didn't shoot at all," said Hilbert. He rose, and went to the window, carrying the bomb in his hand like a club. He peered across the street from the side, and said: "Just watch." He took a stride so that he was standing with his whole body in front of the window. The men crouched, staring at him in horror. He stood there for a full minute, then he turned round with a smirk. "Nothing. If they'd been sitting at the window, they wouldn't have missed the chance."

"You've got more guts than brains," muttered Andrej, still shocked.

Hilbert stuck the bomb under his arm. "I know what I'm doing. I only had to keep a good watch on the window. If I'd seen any movement, I would have jumped. Anyhow, now we know where we are. My idea is that they don't dare show their faces. They're lying low somewhere in the house, waiting for us to try and get in. After all, they can't expect us to have a mortar bomb."

"Who knows I" Andrej moved up to the window and looked across. The others came up behind him, and stared at Sztraka's house. Andrej hesitated. In an hour it would be dark, and he suddenly felt it would be better if they waited that much longer before using the bomb. Better speak to Nikolash. . . . "Watch out!" yelled Kubany.

That was the last they heard before a lash of steel swept them away from the window. Andrej toppled backward, falling heavily on Sztraka.

Next to him one of Kubany's men staggered back; his hands clutching wildly about him caught hold of a head, dug fast into its hair and pulled Kubany down with him. Hilbert, who had been standing thunderstruck looking down at the men on the floor, suddenly rushed through the door, down the hall and into the street. Immediately afterward there was a terrific explosion.

Nikolash, who had come in from the other room, rolled Andrej's body out of the way and crept to the window. He brought his head cautiously up to the shattered panes, and saw what was left of Hilbert lying in the snow like a fire-blackened log. He spat, then crawled back to Andrej, who lay on his side with closed eyes, neither moving nor making any sound. With a few practiced movements Nikolash had unbuttoned his coat and shirt, to discover two round holes where the right nipple had been, from which blood was trickling. Hastily feeling the pulse, he found that Andrej was still alive. He got up, went over to Sztraka, and gave him a kick, saying: "Get Margita."

When she came, there were again shots being fired outside. This time they sounded as if they came from the edge of the wood, where Dobrovsky and his men must be. Nikolash watched as Margita ran to Andrej and stared at the holes in his chest. Her face turned dead white, but she made no sound and at once tried to lift her brother's body. She and Sztraka dragged him into her room and on to her bed.

Karasek appeared. "Where have you been?" Nikolash greeted him.

"Up in the loft. We watched from there. Hilbert got the whole volley in his stomach."

"Who's we?"

"Margita and I. What's happened to Andrej?"

Nikolash pointed with his chin to Margita's room. We're all to blame, he thought, and he couldn't help feeling a reluctant admiration for the Germans who had known exactly what they were doing and had shown such discipline and intelligence.

He went into Margita's room. One glance at the face on the bed told him that Andrej was as good as dead. The skin looked brittle, and shone like chalk above the black beard. Karasek and Sztraka stood near the bed, and Margita sat motionless on a chair, gazing into her brother's face. She did not move even when Nikolash cleared his throat, and asked the two men impatiently: "Why stand there gaping? You'd do better to go to the window and keep your eyes open there. They may try to come over when it's dark."

"Shall I go back to the loft?" asked Karasek.

"No, not you, you stay at the window with Kubany. Sztraka can go to the loft, he's useless anyway."

Nikolash turned to Margita. "Now pull yourself together. You can see there's nothing much to be done for him now." She did not answer, and he shook her by the shoulder. "Didn't you hear me?"

"Take your hands off," she said.

Her voice was so hostile that he obeyed, looking doubtfully at Andrej. "You're behaving as if he were your husband. What's happened to him has happened to millions of others before him."

"They're no concern of mine."

"All right. But you knew it might get him some time. If I were you, I'd leave the blubbing to Elizabeth."

"I'm not blubbing." She turned her face towards him. "You're glad about it, I know. Yes, I know," she repeated loudly when Nikolash made a gesture of protest. "You don't have to put on a sympathy act, I don't need that. But I can't bear the sight of you, so get out."

Nikolash looked at her in amazement, then hit her in the face so hard that she fell off the chair. "You won't treat
me
like that," he declared coldly. "You can give your shepherds the boot when you want to, but not me." He watched her scrambling to her feet in silence and looking around. "Your gun's in my room," he said.

"If only I had it here!" she answered, and kicked him in the stomach, then ran toward the door. She had her hand on the handle when he caught her. Dragging her back to the bed, he pushed her down on the pillows with one hand, gripped her legs between his own and began hitting her unmercifully with the other hand. She did not utter a sound. When he let her go, her nose and mouth were bleeding. "Come to your senses now?" he said.

Instead of answering, she bent down over Andrej, whose rattling breath suddenly stopped. Then there was a sound as if a spring had been released, and the room was silent.

Nikolash sat down at Margita's side. "Andrej's lucky in spite of everything," he remarked indifferently. "At least he could die in bed. That's a thing that doesn't often happen these days to a man of his age."

"Dying in bed isn't so easy either," said Margita, touching her face. "You bastard I"

He was surprised to see that she was crying. After all she wasn't a child any more. He caught her angrily by the arm and said: "What on earth's the matter with you? Do you expect to be pitied?"

"Let me alone." She tore herself free. "You don't understand."

He tried to look directly into her face. "Elizabeth couldn't make more of a fuss than you. Why do you have to cry about him? We've all got our own lives to lead."

"I've already said, you don't understand," she returned fiercely. "What's going to happen to the farm? Father can't manage on his own. I'll have to sell the place."

"You work things out fast," said Nikolash. "The only question is, will you find anyone to buy it?"

"I'll find someone, and once I've got money, I'll soon find a husband in Prague."

Nikolash laughed in the darkness. "You've got over this pretty quickly, didn't you?"

"We all have our own lives to lead," she quoted him.

He got up and went to the window; the snow was whirling noiselessly outside. I'll bet she carries out her plans, he thought. She was a cunning bitch, and knew just how to play her cards. For a while he had believed that it would be hard to carry on without her. Nobody would find it easy to part from a woman with whom he's slept with for two and a half years without getting tired of her. But now he knew what to think of her, he was only sorry he hadn't hurt her more just then. He had to watch out. He was not deceived by the calm way she took it—he knew her too well. She was proud and vindictive, and if he were to stay any longer, she'd certainly cut his throat one day.

He gave an impatient glance at his watch. What on earth could be keeping Matuska?

He turned to Margita, who stood near the bed, not moving. "Do you want Andrej left here?" he asked her.