Crack of Doom (5 page)

"From Schmitt; he says they're an heirloom. And one more thing: Herbig's coming with us."

"Herbig!" Vohringer jumped up again. "You're kidding."

"Why not?"

"But that's crazy, man." Vohringer cried beseechingly. "Herbig of all people. Can't the two of us manage the thing alone?"

"Two people aren't enough. One of us might have to go and report to Schmitt; then it would be useful to have someone else there."

"But not Herbig."

"He's reliable."

"He's an informer," cried Vohringer. "A damned informer."

"Why are you so damned set against Herbig?" asked Kolodzi. "Just because he was a Hitler Youth leader, that doesn't make him an informer."

"I can't stand the man," Vohringer declared furiously. He sat down at the table and stared disconsolately at the floor. "I can't make any plans with him around. Do you know I haven't seen my son yet? Can you imagine what that feels like?"

"How old is he?"

"Eight months. So you insist on Herbig?"

"Yes."

"That's your last word?"

"Yes."

"Well, I suppose I’ll have to come all the same," said Vohringer with a sigh. His anger spurted up again. "But I warn you, if he starts talking any of his damned muck, I'll let him have it."

"He could put you in his pocket," said Kolodzi.

"I don't know what you see in that bastard," Vohringer said sulkily.

Knowing he was jealous, Kolodzi smiled. "If anyone's going to find the general, it'll be the three of us together. Wait and see if I'm not right."

"The general can stay lost for all I care. He was a stupid bastard anyhow."

"He never got in my way," Kolodzi remarked.

Vohringer stood up. I'll go and tell Herbig."

A few minutes later he returned grinning. "The man didn't believe it. Told me he didn't want to be a deserter, not even a fake one. I told him he was always keen on medals and this was his big chance. But listen," his face grew serious and he sat down. "I've just thought of something—what are you going to do about your Maria?"

"How do you mean?"

"I only meant, what is she going to do when Ivan comes. And your mother, too."

Kolodzi regarded him with an expressionless face.

"They're going to Olmutz."

"And then?"

"I've no idea."

"D'you imagine Ivan won't get to Olmutz?" Vohringer asked scornfully.

"Of course he will."

"And then?"

Dropping his fists on the table in a helpless gesture, Kolodzi said: "Don't ask so many questions. It worries me enough as it is."

"I expect it does," Vohringer said. "Of course, you might have sent them to Wertheim."

Kolodzi jerked his head round. "To Wertheim?"

"Yes."

"Who to?"

"To me," Vohringer said simply. Kolodzi gaped at him, and he went on in urgent tones: "Well, why not? After all they could stay quite a while at my home, perhaps till the war's over. Ill write my wife. Well, it's an idea, isn't it?" He had talked himself into a fine glow of enthusiasm for his plan. Kolodzi, who had gone on staring at him, now bent over the table. "You damned fool!" he said, and his voice shook.

It was the last thing Vohringer had expected. He flushed and was about to speak, but Kolodzi forestalled him. "You had all the time in the world, we've known each other long enough. And you have to come out with it now, just when it's too late. If you'd only opened your mouth a couple of hours earlier, before I went to see them I How am I going to let them know? Perhaps you can tell me that?"

"Damn!" cried Vohringer, and began furiously scratching his neck. "Got a cigarette?" Kolodzi threw a packet on the table. "Oh damned!" he said, taking a cigarette out and lighting it; he flung the match on the floor, and stamped on it with his heavy boots. "But after all you might have asked me," he said. "How d'you expect me to think of everything? How was I to know what your plans were?" The more he tried to justify himself, the less confident he felt. He cursed again. "For God's sake say something," he cried angrily. "You've got a head on your shoulders too, haven't you? Just think a bit! Why don't you simply write to Olmütz?"

"Of course I'll write now," Kolodzi answered slowly, "and it's very good of you to offer. Only how can I be sure the letter will get there in time? It would all have been so different if you'd just opened your mouth before; there would have been none of this damned uncertainty." The thought renewed his exasperation. "Two hours earlier, and I wouldn't have anything to worry about now." He stopped abruptly as the door burst open and Herbig entered, his white camouflage coat already over his uniform. He was a tall man with a lean hard face and fair hair that fell untidily over his brow.

"We're to board the trucks immediately," said Herbig, putting a heavy rucksack down on the floor. "Company commanders report to the captain."

Kolodzi glanced resignedly over at Vohringer. Then he hung Schmitt's binoculars around his neck and went out.

The company had already fallen in. "We won't waste any time now," Schmitt said to them, "you'll be told the plans later." He took Kolodzi to one side and pressed a document into his hand. "I took the precaution of having a movement order to Oviz made out for the three of you, just in case you run into any German troops. Only make use of it as a last resort, though—it would put the locals wise as to what's happening." He stopped and looked down the road, from where car engines could now be heard. "Here come the trucks," he concluded. "You'll sit with me."

Four big six-wheelers stopped on the other side of the road. Schmitt went over to the first, climbed on the step and spoke to the driver in the cab. "Which route are you taking?"

"Through Jaszo, sir."

"I want you first to take us twelve miles further on, to Oviz."

The driver pulled a face. "We haven't been told anything about that, sir. Our orders are to take you to Szomolnok and then come straight back to Kosice."

"Half an hour more won't make any difference."

"We've still got to get building material to the lines tonight, sir," the man objected.

"And you'll still have time for that if you drive fast. Anyhow, those are your new orders. Ready?" Schmitt asked Menges, who had just come up.

"All aboard, sir."

The trucks moved northward over snow-covered roads and through half a dozen dark villages. To their left snowy slopes lifted toward a black sky; single trees flashed past, and telegraph poles, with wide fields and woods in the background. The driver turned on the windshield-wiper. "It's started to snow," said Menges, with a note of insensate satisfaction in his voice. Snow-flakes could be seen dancing in the headlights; they fell thicker and thicker. Then buildings appeared again on both sides—it was nearly midnight. "Szomolnok," announced the driver. Schmitt looked through the misted-over windows. The road was getting narrower, and led up the mountain side in a series of sharp bends. "Hope we don't get stuck," he said apprehensively.

"Not with this bus, sir," the driver reassured him, pointing ahead with his chin; "we've almost made it."

Kolodzi had dozed off, and woke to a shout from Schmitt. The truck had come to a stop, and the captain was just climbing out.

Looking back down the road to see the other trucks come up, Schmitt told the driver to switch off his lights, then signed to Kolodzi to get out. "You're there," he said. "See that light down there?"

Kolodzi got his bearings with a single look. There was a thick pine-wood rising on one side, while on the other there was a steep drop from the road to a deep valley completely surrounded by woods and mountains. Through a gap in the trees he at once saw the light Schmitt was referring to. It twinkled along the bottom of the valley, vanished in the snow storm for a few seconds, and then seemed to bob up again in a different place.

"That must be Oviz," said Schmitt. "Well drive on along this road; you stay somewhere near till we've searched the place. When we've finished, we'll fire white Very lights—that'll be your signal. But remember to wait a good hour after that before you go down."

Schmitt dug his hands in his pockets and remarked with a shiver: "Wild enough country to leave you to your fate in."

"It isn't new to me, sir," Kolodzi answered. He went to the back of the truck and called his two men down.

"I'll see you get special leave all right if you find the general," Schmitt told them.

Kolodzi said nothing, and Vohringer spat rudely on the ground; only Herbig braced his shoulders a bit. Schmitt hesitated for a moment, then shook hands with each of them in turn, and climbed back into the truck. He put his hand out of the window, and motioned to Kolodzi to come over to him. "Don't forget these," he said quietly, looking into his face and tapping the binoculars hanging on Kolodzi's chest. The trucks moved off.

When the rear light of the last truck had disappeared behind the trees, Kolodzi bent down for his rucksack.

"What now?" asked Vohringer.

Kolodzi pointed into the darkness. "Let's get off the road." They tramped off into the wood and down the steep slope. Once Kolodzi stopped and raised his head, listening. Far ahead of them, certainly on the other side of the valley, an animal was howling plaintively. "A dog," said Vohringer, unable to hide the quaver in his voice.

Kolodzi shook his head. "Sounds more like a wolf. I remember them from the last time I was here."

Vohringer shuddered. "Are there wolves here?"

"Wolves
and
bears, but when you've got a tommy-gun you don't need to get the wind up."

They moved on. Although it was a laborious business walking in the deep snow, they made good progress owing to the steep incline, the chief obstacle being the close-set pines. After about ten minutes they suddenly came out of the wood, and found themselves looking down on the houses of a small village. They could no longer see the light they had noticed from above, but the sky had a vague brightness.

Kolodzi stared hard into the valley. A few lights went on suddenly in the village, then more and more. "All according to schedule," he observed with satisfaction, wiping the snow off of his face with his sleeve. "We'll wait here." He looked around the country. They were still on the edge of the wood, the snow was falling softly and regularly. Further to the right the wood fell back a bit, while on the left it went as far as the first houses. The terrain between was bare, undulating slightly and on a steep gradient.

They sat on their rucksacks and looked down again into the village where there was now a light showing in almost every window.

"They've finished," Kolodzi said after what seemed a long time. A Very light whizzed over the roofs, and seemed to drift uncertainly through a glittering cloud of snow, before gliding to earth. "A quarter past one," said Kolodzi, glancing at his watch. "We'll get going in an hour's time."

They fell silent again. The snow settled in thick wads on their caps and shoulders. Somewhere in the distance a wolfs long-drawn-out howl was repeated at irregular intervals, and each time the men would look up and hold their breath. "If only it weren't so damned cold," Vohringer said, his teeth chattering. "This whole thing's crazy." He gave a sidelong glance at Herbig, who sat on his rucksack, neither moving nor speaking. "The war's lost anyhow," Vohringer said fiercely.

Herbig turned his face around and stared at him.

"Anything the matter?" Vohringer asked in an aggressive voice.

"Shut up," Kolodzi broke in. "First of all, that doesn't make any difference to us now, and secondly we're not at that point yet Don't forget the Ardennes offensive."

"Yeah," jeered Vohringer, "and Santa Claus."

"Don't forget the V-2's either," said Herbig, speaking for the first time.

Vohringer sat round so that he could look Herbig full in the face. "Haven't you noticed everybody's stopped talking about it? Haven't you noticed that yet?"

"They're developing the V-3," said Herbig.

Vohringer affected a laugh. "That's nothing new, my boy, we've had it all the time. Know what V-3 stands for, don't you?"

Herbig looked at him coldly, but said nothing.

"Voodoo third-class. The propaganda they've been feeding us with the whole war—that's your V-3, so shut up about it, can't you?" He turned angrily to Kolodzi. "What do
you
think?"

"Leave me alone, I've got other things to worry about."

"Oh. . . ." Vohringer scratched his head and immediately felt guilty again. He felt inhibited by Herbig's presence and lowered his voice. "There must be a chance, don't you think?"

"No, I don't think," Kolodzi answered.

"If I were you . . ." Vohringer began, but stopped at once because he noticed Herbig regarding him with interest. Kolodzi looked up: "Yes?"

His unfriendly tone overcame Vohringer's caution.

"Well, you've still got time," he said firmly. "Perhaps you'll pick up a truck on the way, then you can be back here by this evening."

"Has this got anything to do with our mission?" Herbig asked, and when neither of them answered, his hard face assumed a watchful expression. Pensively stroking the barrel of his tommy-gun with his fingertips, he fixed his eyes on Kolodzi. "What's this all about?" he said.

"Nothing to do with you," Kolodzi answered, and then, turning to Vohringer: "You're crazy."

His tone more than his words aggravated Vohringer's guilty conscience and made him stick to his idea. "I admit it was dumb of me not to have thought of it before," he said quickly. "But after all, you could still have talked to Schmitt about it before we drove off. Schmitt could have sent a messenger or told the supply column to send someone. Why on earth didn't you say anything to him?"

Kolodzi was silent, thinking: of course what he says is quite true—a word to Schmitt would have done the trick; only it simply hadn't occurred to him, he always missed the obvious. He couldn't even blame Vohringer; because he would still have had time then to send word to Maria.

Vohringer watched him, pleased to have found a way of displacing some of his own sense of guilt. With the magnanimity born of relief he said: "No point in our both blaming each other. But now it's up to you. Ivan will be in Olmütz soon enough anyhow, you can bet."