The Cross of Iron (19 page)

‘Open the door,’ Steiner said to Zoll. Zoll did not move. He was holding his trousers up with both hands, his face reflecting all the emotions that had been passing through him in these past few minutes. Steiner’s order to open the wardrobe intensified his fear. Involuntarily, he glanced toward his tommy-gun. It was out of reach in the farther corner of the room.

Steiner caught his glance. His mouth twisted. ‘Don’t try it,’ he said icily, ‘you couldn’t get there. Come on, open the wardrobe.’ ‘What for?’ Zoll asked loudly. He made an effort to speak firmly.

Steiner pointed the tommy-gun at his chest. ‘You ask too many questions,’ he said calmly. ‘Get to it!’

Zoll stared into his pitiless eyes. He did not doubt for a second that Steiner would fire at once if he tried to jump him. Nevertheless, he made a last attempt at opposition. ‘Not until you tell me why you want me to open the wardrobe.’

His resistance threw Steiner into a fury. The urge to press the trigger was almost too much for him. ‘Go on,’ he said hoarsely, ‘go on, hurry up.’

Zoll shrank away from that naked rage. He turned quickly, went to the wardrobe and opened the door a little.

‘More,’ Steiner ordered.

Steiner pulled the door wide open. The wardrobe was empty inside. Steiner nodded with satisfaction. Turning his head for a moment, he saw that the Russian woman’s gaze was fixed upon him. Deep within those grey eyes of hers blazed a flame that sent a shiver down his spine. If she had a gun now she would kill us both in a moment, he thought.

‘Get into the wardrobe,’ he said to Zoll. Zoll took a quick step to the side, his eyes widening with fear. This was taking too much time, Steiner thought; he stepped up to Zoll and whacked him across the face with the heavy barrel of the sub-machine-gun. Zoll let out a wild shriek. He let go of his trousers and pressed both hands against his nose, which streamed blood. Ignoring his cries, Steiner shoved him into the wardrobe.

‘The show is over,’ he said coldly. ‘The applause has died down and the audience is heading for the exits. Do you know what happens then?’ He saw Zoll’s body tensing and quickly raised the gun. ‘You don’t understand. The show is over, I said. And when the show is over the curtain falls—like this.’ As he spoke he had been closing the door inch by inch. Now he suddenly slammed it shut, pushed the wooden catch down, and took a step back. ‘If you make a sound,’ he called out loudly, ‘I’ll fire through the wood.’

From the side he tugged at the wardrobe until he had moved it somewhat away from the wall. He enlarged the space until he could squeeze between the wall and the back of the wardrobe. Then braced his back against the wall, and with a mighty shove pushed the wardrobe over frontwards. The heavy piece of furniture crashed to the floor, sending up a cloud of dust, through which appeared the Russian woman’s white face. She had jumped up and was staring first at the wardrobe, then at Steiner. For a few seconds there was silence. Then Zoll began to shout. When he began kicking his nailed boots against the wood inside, Steiner hammered the butt of the tommy-gun against the side of the wardrobe. The shouting stopped.

‘Cut out the racket,’ Steiner said loudly. ‘Nothing can happen to you as long as you’re inside there. I’m going to leave the woman here.’ He turned upon the Russian woman, grasped her wrist and pulled her over to the wardrobe, where she crouched on the ground, trying to cover herself with her hands. Her eyes were still afire, and Steiner felt a tremor at the thought of the fate awaiting Zoll. For a moment he fought with himself. Then his face set. He picked up Zoll’s tommy-gun and turned toward the door. As he went out, he stepped on a piece of clothing. It was the Russian woman’s uniform. He halted. The thought came to him so suddenly that it took a while before he fully took it in. He stooped, picked up the uniform and regarded it thoughtfully. Then he went on out of the room, a triumphant smile on his face.

The men were ready to march. They stood about the kitchen looking at Kern, who lay moaning on the floor with his eyes shut. Schnurrbart was bending over him. He had unbuttoned Kern’s jacket, pulled up his shirt and with both hands was massaging the innkeeper’s black-haired abdomen. The others stood around discussing the jiu-jitsu trick Krüger had used. Kern seemed to be slowly recovering. His moaning stopped. All at once he opened his eyes and tried to sit up.

‘Good morning,’ Schnurrbart said, grinning with relief.

Kern stared blankly at him. Then he saw Krüger and his memory returned. He twisted his face in a grimace of pain and cursed. ‘What the devil happened?’ he said, his eyes coming to rest on Schnurrbart who was still rubbing his stomach. He could not figure it out. He had been on top of Krüger and had had a beautiful grip on his throat. And there his memory ended. Seeing the grinning faces of the others, he flung Schnurrbart’s hands off him and sprang to his feet. At this moment Steiner returned. He went over to the table and spread out the Russian uniform. Then he turned to Krüger. ‘You back to normal again?’ he asked quietly.

Krüger straightened his cartridge-belt, brushed the hair back from his perspiring face. ‘More or less,’ he said.

‘Let’s hope it’s more. Come along.’ They went across the hall to the prisoners. The buzz of conversation stopped and the women looked up expectantly at them. ‘Tell them to undress,’ Steiner ordered.

Krüger gaped at him, thinking he had heard wrong. When Steiner impatiently repeated his order, he shrugged and spoke to the women. Their faces paled and they shifted about uneasily, but made no move to obey. Steiner lifted the sub-machine-gun and fired half the magazine into the floor. The women screamed in terror and threw their arms up in the air. ‘If they don’t undress voluntarily we’ll strip them one by one,’ Steiner said loudly, over the reverberations of the shots. ‘Tell them it’s their uniforms I want—nobody could take away their virginity any more.’

Krüger grinned. He did not see what Steiner wanted with the uniforms, but the business was beginning to amuse him. His voice rang out incisively as he translated Steiner’s remark. This time the women complied at once. In their panic they pulled the blouses over their heads without bothering to unbutton them. When the other men, startled by the shots, came rushing into the room, they stopped in astonishment. The women had already removed their high boots and were now taking off their trousers. Their scanty and rather ragged underclothing scarcely concealed their breasts. Some of them were wearing slips; most wore men’s long underwear. Half naked, they stood huddling together in front of the men, glaring at them with bitter anger. Maag ran his tongue over his lips. ‘Boy, oh boy,’ he murmured. The sight made his skin tingle. He glanced at the other men and saw that they were in like case. They were all standing leaning forward slightly, their faces flushed with lust.

Dorn lingered in the background, outraged. Although he understood the ugly scene no more than the others, he was revolted by the way all of them were, as he put it himself, welcoming this shameless exploitation of the weakness of the women. He elbowed his way to the front and went up to Steiner. ‘What’s the idea of this filthy business!’ he said angrily.

Steiner regarded him coolly. ‘Haven’t you ever seen a female backside before?’ he answered casually.

Disgusted, Dorn stared into his impassive face. Before he could reply, Krüger nudged him roughly in the side. ‘If their holes bother you,’ he growled at him, ‘take off your glasses.’

Dorn quivered with indignation. Angrily he turned his back on the scene, went to the window and stared out into the bright daylight. So much had happened in the past few minutes that demanded explanation. Why had Steiner come back? Where was the one Russian male prisoner? Where was Zoll? What was the meaning of this disgusting undressing of the women?

The women had finished by now. Their uniforms lay in a heap on the floor, and the men’s eyes slid hungrily over their bodies. Steiner, seeing the men’s faces, grinned. What they were thinking was obvious, and understandable. But they had no more time to lose now. The Russian who had escaped would reach Krymskaya in three hours at most. Steiner turned to the men. ‘We are going to change uniforms. Each of you take whatever fits and change over there in the kitchen. Wrap your own uniforms in your blanket and include them in your packs. Clear?’

‘You mean we’re to put that stuff on?’ Maag gasped.

‘Have you got anything against it?’

‘No, of course not, but they’re women’s uniforms.’

‘They’re the same uniforms all the Russians wear,’ Steiner answered impatiently. ‘Have you noticed any difference?’

Maag looked at Schnurrbart beside him, appealing for aid. But Schnurrbart was just as puzzled.

‘The idea in itself isn’t bad,’ Krüger spoke up, looking sour. ‘But those uniforms are stinking filthy.’

Steiner flashed him an irritated look. ‘Yesterday you yourself said we were going around like pigs. The women’s uniforms are no dirtier than our own; so don’t be so damn fastidious.’ He nodded at the women, who were watching the bickering with apprehension. ‘Ask them when they last washed. More recently than you have, I’ll bet.’

There was little Krüger could answer to that. He stared blackly at the floor. Finally he looked up and asked: ‘What’s happened anyway? Has the Ivan escaped?’

‘He would have been crazy if he hadn’t,’ Steiner said bitingly. ‘You couldn’t have made it easier for him to get away if you tried. What I’ve been wondering is why the women didn’t skip out with him.’

‘Nothing surprising about that,’ Krüger said, stung by Steiner’s tone. ‘They were too damn scared. Incidentally, where the devil is Zoll?’

There was a sudden silence. The men looked at Steiner, who shrugged indifferently. ‘Safe enough at the moment, I imagine,’ he replied. ‘I don’t think we have any reason to worry about him.’

‘Has he cleared out?’

‘What would you have done in his place?’

Krüger also shrugged. They had all realized that one of the women was missing, and had figured out why. Perhaps Zoll had noticed Steiner returning and had made a dash for the woods with the woman. But then how come Steiner had the woman’s uniform? Krüger wondered. One way or another the business was queer, he thought, scratching his chin.

Steiner gave them no time to think the matter over. ‘Take the uniforms,’ he ordered harshly. ‘We’re starting in five minutes.’

‘In five minutes!’ Maag exclaimed, looking sick with disappointment. ‘What are we going to do with the women?’

Steiner did not reply. The men picked up the uniforms, went into the kitchen and began changing clothes. Steiner was the last to leave the room. At the door he glanced back. The women were standing motionless at the back of the room, a grotesque sight. They had put on their boots again and their legs emerged from the black, high tops like thin, ridiculously white sticks. As Steiner looked at their faces, he felt acutely uncomfortable. He stepped quickly out into the hall and closed the door behind him. Then he stripped off his own uniform.

Krüger had already tried on the fifth uniform. He was sweating and cursing steadily under his breath. At last he found a pair of trousers that fitted. ‘What a damn fool idea,’ he said aloud, staring in fury at the picture he presented. Hollerbach watched him with amusement. He had enough sense of humour left to recognize the absurdity of their situation. He also felt so relieved at Steiner’s return that he would have carried out far more unpleasant orders just as cheerfully. He had found a pair of trousers that fitted him well, and as he fished a suitable blouse out of the pile of clothes he watched with a grin as the men in a frenzy of haste slipped into one uniform, turned around, took a few steps back and forth, and then—anxious not to look ridiculous—searched for garments that fitted them better.

Kern had just toilsomely squeezed into trousers that reached only just below his knees when he pulled them up to his waist. For a few seconds he looked down at himself aghast. His hand reached back and felt his behind for a while; then he turned to Hollerbach who was looking at him and barely keeping from laughing. ‘You see how it is,’ he said plaintively. ‘I’ll go off my rocker, I tell you. What a stupid idiotic idea. If the Russians see me they’ll die laughing.’

‘They certainly will,’ Hollerbach grinned. ‘From now on you have to march in the van. The Russians will laugh so hard they won’t be able to shoot.’

Kern shook his head unhappily. ‘What am I going to do? I can’t go around like this.’ He looked down at his legs with troubled gravity.

Hollerbach patted him reassuringly on the back. ‘Tain’t so bad. Try another pair.’

‘I’ve tried them all. This is the only one that fits around the waist.’

‘Then take the leggings and wind them around your legs. That’s how I’ve done. It doesn’t matter how you look; the main thing is if it serves the purpose.’

‘As far as that goes,’ Maag put in, ‘do you think the Russians won’t see we’re not Russians?’ He tugged angrily at his blouse. ‘What a laugh—they’re not so stupid. They only have to look at our caps or our boots.’

Hollerbach, drawing on his belt, shook his head doubtfully. ‘Let’s wait and see. In the dark it won’t be so obvious. Don’t forget we have to cross the front under cover of darkness.’

‘In these rags!’ Kern laughed wildly. ‘When we get to the battalion our own men will mow us down. We look like a pack of Russians.’

‘Don’t wear your brain out thinking about it,’ Hollerbach retorted. ‘After all, we have our own uniforms with us.’

‘Which makes another few pounds to carry,’ Kern growled. ‘Look at the size of this bundle.’ He had begun wrapping his jacket and trousers in the blanket. The bundle was in fact distinctly bulky.

‘No sense to it at all,’ Maag said, cursing. As he buttoned his blouse he thought of the women with acute disappointment. He had missed the chance of a lifetime. Why hadn’t he made better use of the time? He’d had his opportunity when he and Zoll were guarding the prisoners together. They could have taken turns going out with one of the women. But he had felt so damnably inhibited about broaching the matter to Zoll. Then Schnurrbart had come in later and he had had to go out and work on the wagons. But how could he have known that they would be leaving so soon? It was bad luck, that’s what it was. They never let you have anything, the bastards, he thought bitterly. I always have rotten luck and one of these days Monika is going to ditch me. Gloomily, he stared down at the floor. Here you crawled in the mud and worked your arse off month after month, and when for once you had a chance at a bit of fun, nothing came of it. Filled with self-pity, he cursed Steiner; Steiner was to blame for the whole affair. Naturally that thick-skinned stud-horse wouldn’t have any such difficulties. He was the kind who took a woman without complications. The thought increased his bitterness. Do they have any idea what a fellow like me has to go through, he thought. If they knew; the slave-drivers, the damned slave-drivers.