North (11 page)

"Don't you know it's Le Vigan? . . . the great artist of the Resistance? Never heard of him? you shit-assed fags!"

Let 'em know who they've been molesting . . . little snot-noses . . . He's taking a chance, though . . . this thing could end very badly . . . both platforms . . . suppose they got sick of being insulted . . . no dice! he starts yelling even louder!

"Le Vigan! take a good look at him! hero and artist! . . . him too! . . . her too! . . ."

The two of us . . . Lili and me . . . nothing else to do but bow to both platforms . . .

"Listen to me! . . . Listen to me, all of you! . . . come here to wreck trains? . . . dimwits! . . . they're here to liberate you!. . . you blind brutes!"

"Bravo! Bravo!"

Good response on both platforms . . .

Picpus has swung the crowd . . . the crowd on both platforms that were ready to tear us to pieces . . . and now we were three heroes of the air! . . . we owed Picpus plenty . . . he had queued the uprising. . . but we're still in trouble . . . the
Hitlerjugend
brats had been knocked around pretty good, black eyes, shiners, but they wanted more . . . especially the girls, stupid little bitches . . . still at us! . . .  
fallschirm! fallschirm!
 and more coming in from the street . . . down the stairs . . . must have been two hundred of them . . . from other corridors! pretty soon there'd be a thousand! Picpus had pacified the first lot, but these! he'd never make it . . . they'd never let us out! . . . they wanted our skins . . . but wait a minute! that address! Harras's address! The battle had taken the starch out of Picpus . . . and more coming . . . his arms drooped . . . in a minute they'd throw him under a train . . . our Picpus! . . . one man against a thousand! . . . but our address! . . . it wasn't in my pocket, I'd sewn it into the seat of my pants . . . I hadn't showed it to anybody, I'd said to myself: for an emergency . . . well, this was an emergency! . . . shows you the way I am, doesn't take much to perk me up . . . I pull my pants down . . .
plunk!
. . . they're all watching me . . . what the hell am I doing? . . . I rip out the seat . . . the slip of paper is there! and the address! . . . I unfold it, I show it to them . . .
Reichsgesundheitshammer! Professor Harras, Grünwald, Fliegerallee 16
. . . they're hanging on to me . . . they won't let me go . . . but one of them knows how to read . . . he reads out loud . . .

"Wollen sie uns nicht führen?"
"Wouldn't you like to guide us?" "Yes! . . . yes! . . .
ja!
. . .
ja!
. . ." glad to! . . . seems to amuse them . . .
ja! ja! ja!
the kids know the way! . . . the corridor, the ticket window, which platform? . . . just got to follow them . . . Picpus says we've done the right thing . . . he can't move his arm . . . he can't speak either, he's yelled too much, he whispers . . .

"Gonna rub him out? What's his name again?"

"Harras!"

"Never heard of him! . . . SS?"

"Gilt-edged! SS doctor . . ."

"You got a rod?"

"They took it at the customs . . ." 

"Here's a pineapple! . . . English!"

Takes this band grenade out of his pocket . . . slips it into my duffel coat . . . no time to protest, I've got it . . . I can feel it, it's heavy . . .

"You know how to use it?"

"No!"

"It's simple . . . you pull the pin and you heave . . . you got five seconds! . . . you split . . . best quality . . . everything sky-high! . . . the guy! . . . the joint! everything! throw it and run! . . . three! four! five! that's all the time you got . . . fie down! if you're standing, you're through! Understand?"

"Oh, yes!"

I understand all right. . . he doesn't stay put, he tags along with us and the kids . . . but this time it's the right way! we pass the same stations . . . then we change . . . once . . . twice . . . squeezed, compressed, but not as much . . . ah! here's Grünwaldl everybody out! . . . Picpus, us, the kids . . . we surface . . . this is the place . . . Fliegerallee, a sign . . . a lot of cottages on both sides in among the trees . . . but they've had it! . . . semi-windows and drain pipes all hanging out . . . roofs upside-down . . . our address is 16 . . . on the right. . . we're quite a crowd with our Hitler Youth . . .

"You haven't lost it?"

Picpus doesn't trust me! thinks I left it in the subway . . .

"Calm down . . . feel it!"..

He feels it. . .

"You got it straight? the pin? . . . you heave! you lie downl at the same time!"

My only worry is it'll go off before we get there . . . in our faces . . . 27? that must be across the way . . . the door with the two guards . . . on the other side . . . the red sign:
"Reichgesundt"
. . . that's it!

"Beat it, Picpus!. . .you see the sign . . ."

He sees it . . . so do the kids . . . and the yellow and gold swastika, another sign, this is the place all right. . .

"Sehen sie?
. . . see?"

Mostly they see the two guards who motion us to clear out . . . wait a miaute! . . . my paper . . . I wave it . . . they let me go over, but alone . . .

"Professor Harras?"

I want to see him .. .an officer comes ont from under the trees . . . I introduce myself . . .

"Ich bin ein Arzt von Paris"
—I'm a doctor from Paris . . ."

"Gut!. . . Gut!.. .wer sind die da?"

He means the kids that are following us . . . and Lili and Le Vig . . .

"My wife Lili..,. my friend Le Vigan . . ."

I don't want him to separate us . . .

"Gut! gut!"

And the kids? he asks me . . .

"Gawks!"

That's enough for him . . .
"Weg! weg!"
He shoos them away . . . they beat it . . . Picpus too . . . nobody left . . . his
weg! weg!
is magic . . . just the three of us . . . now what'll he say?

"At your service! I am informed . . . you were at the Steinbock Hotel. . ."

I see he can speak French when he wants to . . . and that he was expecting us . . . In a dictatorship . . . even in ruins . . . they know all about you before you arrive . . . so there's no need to explain . . . suits me . . . we follow him . . . first through an enormous garden, no, more of a park . . . full of scattered "rubble . . . more villas, I guess . . . what's left of them . . . and parts of steles and statues . . . covered with brambles and barbed wire . . . ah, a big greenhouse, but the glass is all gone . . . we go in . . . the officer steps very gingerly . . . maybe it's mined . . . I'd ask him . . . but what's his rank in the SS? . . .
Sturmführer
or something-or-other . . . he's not talkative . . . I'd like to get rid of a certain object . . . but where?. . . wouldn't want it to go off . . . should I mention it to this SS-man? . . . he must know it's in my pocket . . . more rubble . . . piles of bricks . . . now we're at the mouth of a tunnel . . . that's where they must live . . . I take a look at this SS-man, immaculate, spruce, polished . . . a comfortable grotto, I expect . . . I've seen a lot of them in Germany, quite inhabitable . . . I don't say anything, but I'm sure . . . well see . . .
"vorsicht!"
he says . . . careful!
"minen"
. . . they put in mines in case of an attack . . . they could probably blow the whole place sky-high, tunnel and all . . . Luckily this
sturmführer 
hadn't searched my pockets! . . . good impression if he sees Bébertl but he'll have to surface, show his head . . . he finally obliges . . . I think it over . . . I've got more than the pineapple . . . plenty more . . . a small Mauser, a razor, two shaving sticks, three boxes of matches, a slice of bacon . . . and that's not all! . . . amazing the crap you take with you when you're thrown out of your home . . . all the stuff you need to live, even very meagerly . . . later in Sigmaringen Mattey, the minister of agriculture, gave us a little lecture. . . I was thinking of sneaking away to Switzerland . . . "Listen carefully, Doctor, certain essentials . . . you won't make it through the woods without them . . . a knife and matches . . . to cut branches and light a fire! eating can always wait . . . but one cold night without fire, you'll catch your death . . ." Mattey was right . . . fire's the soul of life, even a tiny little fire, three twigs . . . same as in bicycle racing, no wheel no Tour de France! . . . the knife is okay . . . so are the matches, but the pineapple and the pin are excess . . . I could see this thing in my pocket blowing us to kingdom come . . . did this SS-man suspect? . . . so careful to keep us on the little path . . . he was definitely afraid of mines . . . but what about my pocket? . . . This park was enormous, rocks, clumps of trees . . . mostly stripped . . . I looked to the right and left . . . some waterhole to drop my gadget in . . . I'd seen several little ponds, full of muck and weeds, just right . . . but much too far from the path . . . I didn't want to blow anybody up! . . . what if it went off in this SS-man's face? . . . I'd get it too! Why can't he just take us to Harras, that's all we wanted . . . Even if he is a super-Nazi, Harras is the understanding type, philosophical, easygoing, not one of those punctilious narrow-minded bastards, Party brutes . . . gorillas with armbands . . . he'll understand our situation . . . I hope! . . . if he doesn't we're cooked . . . the cops on our tail and off to the clink! we've attracted enough attention! first this Faustus! . . . up on his toes and
heil!
and thieving Ivan . . . we hadn't missed a trick . . . and the pictures! and Picpus! a time comes, after two or three manhunts the whole world is fuzz . . . Hanas . . . Harras was our last chance . . . another little path! . . . this park was endless . . . where was he taking us? . . . ah, I see a shell holel . . .with water in it. . . lots of water . . . people bathing. . . naked men. . . a whole crowd of them! . . .

"A swimming pool for the Finns . . ."

Can they all be Finns? . . . a big isba next to the pool, their sauna . . . they go in, they scald themselves, they come out and quick, they dive . . .they keep comingl . . . another! . . . another! . . . While the SS-man tells us how tonic these baths are, he takes them himself, etc., etc.  . . . I slip my pineapple out of my pocket and put it down on the slippery edge of the pool . . . I push it . . . gendy . . .
plop!
it sinks . . . if it blows up it'll be in the water . . . I hope it's a dummy . . . no use worrying now . . . is there anything I haven't been accused of? even today in 1960 . . . in every club . . . café terrace . . . party . . . latrine . . . absurdities! . . .The Convention! bloodthirsty I admit. . .. heads hanging by a hair, thundering threats . . . was nothing . . . kid stuff . . . well, there in that park we were safe for a while . . . we thought . . .
Reichsgesundheitshammer Grünwald
. . . I don't think anybody saw me ditching that toy . . . maybe it was a dummy? . . . the main thing is I haven't got it any more . . . say, the SS-man? . . . I look around . . . gone! . . . I look again . . . that takes the pastry! thin air! . . . oh, here's a fat man coming toward us . . . a very very fat man in a bathrobe . . . I hadn't recognized him . . . it's him! and nobody else! he's just come out of the isba . . .

If it isn't our dear friend Céline!"

Really cordial. . .

"My respects, Madame!"

I hadn't recognized him, Harras in person . . . I introduce LeVig. . .

"Monsieur Le Vigan, the famous actor!"

Le Vigan bows . . . delighted! delighted! . . . well, now we're really compromised, Nazified to the hilt. . . so what? . . . with him at least you know where you're atl President of the
Reichsgesund
. . . must be a colonel at least!. . . I've seen him in uniform, yes, only a colonel. . . he's not too bald for a "professor" of his age . . . he's the friendly, energetic type, shrewd common sense, a state of mind unknown in France: depth with good humor . . . serene wisdom with spells of buffoonery . . . what was he in command of here? . . . a cellar under the brambles? a tunnel? . . .
Führer
, I believe, of all the practitioners in the Reich,
Gross
Reich, and protectorates . . . the whole lot! . . . faith healers, homeopaths, and even "felchers," ° health officers, detectors of epidemics . . . give you an idea of the power he had, this smiling opulent Harras! sure he could do something . . . find us some little job far away, maybe with the
"felchers"
. . . detecting dead rats deep in the valleys of Moravia . . . I could see us very well as
"felchers"
. . . or looking for "suspicious lice" in Herzegovina . . . we'd be sitting pretty . . . while it lasted . . . with Harras I could speak out . . . Just then the sound of a brass band comes out of some hole, the tunnel I think . . .

"My dear Harras! twenty-five more cities retaken! Rostov finally belongs to somebody! . . . and Sebastopol!"

"And yourself, my dear Céline?"

"We don't exist any more, Professor! . . . your police don't think we're ourselves! unrecognizable! . . . phony pictures! you recognize us, don't you?"

"Foolishness . . . I'll straighten it out . . ."

I congratulate him on looking so well . . . seems to be in great shape!

"You're in want, Céline . . . you're in want because you choose to be . . ."

And he guffaws!

"You're in Berlin . . . and you don't come and see me!"

I don't see what there is to laugh about, but anyway, with him so jovial, our troubles are over! not that we haven't managed pretty well, all in all! . . . still that laugh of his was a bit too much . . . laughing didn't come so easy to us since we left Montmartre . . . the mirth had dried up . . . this Harras was a scream! . . . well anyway, with this beamish boy we'd sleep and eat, and he'd take care of the police . . . I wasn't thinking only of myself, there was Lili, Le Vig, and Bébert. . .

"Did you hear? We'll eat and he'll take care of the pictures!"

I shake Le Vigan, he's dreaming, I give him the lowdown . . .

"Yes, pal . . . right you are . . ."