The Cross of Iron (6 page)

Stransky’s voice cut into his private thoughts. The commander had folded his arms over his chest, and a mocking smile was playing about the corners of his mouth as he asked: ‘Well?’

Meyer glanced away from his face. Pompous ass, he thought. Aloud, he said: ‘I have not yet had occasion to look into the matter. Steiner was evacuated to hospital for some time, as I understand it, and returned to the company about six months ago, shortly after I joined the battalion.’

‘Has he been in command of the platoon since then?’ Stransky asked.

‘No. In that case I would have promoted him to sergeant long ago. Up to two weeks ago he was the group leader. I handed the platoon over to him after Sergeant Graf was wounded during an artillery barrage. Ever since there has been so much doing that I haven’t had a chance to promote him.’

Stransky dropped his cigarette butt and stepped on it. ‘If your Steiner succeeds in bringing the platoon back here, I’ll promote him to full sergeant.’

‘Then he has his promotion,’ Meyer declared.

‘You certainly are sure of yourself,’ Stransky jeered.

They looked at one another, their mutual dislike plainly written in their faces. Why am I letting him depress me? Meyer thought. He sits so high in his saddle he will never stoop low enough to see the grass his horse is eating. A corporal hardly exists for him, any more than I do. The thought angered him, and his voice sounded sharper than he meant it to be as he said: ‘I know Steiner long enough to vouch for him.’

Stransky raised his eyebrows. Anger did not come quickly; it rose slowly into his throat and thickened his voice. ‘I did not ask your opinion, Herr Meyer,’ he said tightly. ‘Moreover, I am accustomed to a somewhat different tone from my subordinates.’ 

Meyer saw the white patches under the captain’s cheekbones. For a moment he regretted his insistence. With a mixture of anxiety and curiosity, he waited to see what would happen next. But Stransky seemed to have regained his self -control. The spots in his face began to colour, and in a moment they had disappeared.

Without a word he turned toward the trench, and Meyer followed him. When they came to a machine -gun emplacement, Stransky stopped. The trench had been widened out into a square room at this point, and covered over with a few planks. The man behind the gun turned his head and looked uncertainly at them. Meyer gave him a friendly nod. ‘Anything new, Ott?’

The man snapped to attention. ‘Second M.G., nothing to report,’ he said tensely.

Stransky studied him attentively. In addition to the Iron Cross the man wore a silver infantry assault medal. ‘What is your line of work?’ he asked.

The man’s face flushed. He opened his mouth, then appealed to Meyer with a look. ‘He lives in Birgsau in the Bavarian Alps,’ Meyer said. ‘Until he was called up he was the community cattleherd.’

‘I see,’ Stransky said. He dropped his official tone as he asked: ‘I imagine that was a very monotonous occupation, wasn’t it?’

Ott grinned in embarrassment and swallowed several times. ‘No,’ he said at last. His eyes were fixed upon Meyer, who gave him an encouraging wink.

‘Then it was not so dull?’ Stransky asked.

‘No,’ Ott replied, shaking his head violently.

Stransky smiled fleetingly. ‘Take these men away from their mountains and they behave like fish out of water,’ he said to Meyer. ‘Still’—he looked at the man’s medals—‘they can still bite, it would seem.’

They went on. Stransky had assumed a greater curtness and answered the men’s salutes with brief nods. They ran into Lieutenant Gausser, the co
mm
ander of 1st Company. His youthful face was pale and sleep -starved. Because of the heat he had taken off his tunic. His green shirt was sopping, and Stransky regarded him with disapproval. ‘What a way to go about, Herr Gausser,’ he said sternly.

The lieutenant shrugged indifferently. ‘I have been working on my bunker, sir,’ he said. ‘This is what they call a prepared position in these parts—they haven’t even provided a company combat post.’ He turned to Meyer. ‘How are conditions over your way?’

‘Not quite as bad as here. There was at least a bunker for the combat post.’

‘Happy man,’ Gausser sighed. ‘They certainly had enough time to prepare a decent position. As things are now we would have a hard time repelling an attack.’

Stransky studied his well -manicured fingernails. ‘Good positions Herr Gausser,’ he said reprovingly, ‘do help in keeping losses at a minimum. But you must not overlook the fact that a successful repulse of enemy assaults depends primarily on the morale of the troops. And the attitude of the officers is of the utmost importance.’ 

Gausser exchanged glances with Meyer. To the commander he said coolly: ‘Perhaps you will permit me to remark that the morale of troops presupposes some sort of physical substance which, in our experience, reacts with extreme sensitivity to superior enemy fire power.’

‘What do you mean by that?’ Stransky asked haughtily. Once more Gausser exchanged glances with Meyer. The little lines of irony at the corners of his mouth vanished as he said, in dead earnest now: ‘If none of the fighting men survive the enemy barrage, all your morale will do is add a nice touch to the communique.’

Stransky threw a look at Meyer. Seeing the naked spite in Meyer’s face, he stiffened. Icily, he retorted: ‘The probability that at least one of the four machine -guns in your company will survive even the most intensive barrage is far greater than you think. But perhaps you lack the experience to judge this matter.’ He paused. ‘You will have opportunity to prove your morale with this one remaining machine -gun.’

Gausser, who had meanwhile slipped into his tunic, replied calmly: ‘If my physical substance survives the barrages, my morale will meet your standards, too.’

‘You have effrontery, if nothing else,’ Stransky snapped. Meyer hastily covered his mouth with his hand to conceal the twitch of his facial muscles. Gausser finished buttoning his tunic before he said politely to the commander: ‘Effrontery can be a good point for a soldier. It keeps him from overestimating his enemy.’ 

Neatly parried, Meyer thought. Stransky’s frown darkened and his voice sounded a shade colder as he said: ‘Effrontery can also lead to an irresponsible underestimation of the enemy. To call it a good point involves a degree of naive optimism which ill suits a company commander.’

The conversation had reached a critical point, and Gausser seemed to sense this. There was no point in forcing the issue. Equably, he said: ‘That calls for some thinking. To be frank, after being awake all night and keeping going on the bunkers this morning, I am too tired to concentrate.’

Stransky eyed him for a moment. Then he turned to Meyer. ‘I do not need you any longer. Return to your company.’ He dismissed both officers with a nod and strode rapidly away. The two men watched him until Meyer cleared his throat. ‘I must say, I’ve taken quite a liking to you in the past few minutes,’ he said.

‘That’s a bloody thing to tell a man,’ Gausser replied, unbuttoning his tunic again. ‘With my effrontery, I thought you’d liked me all along.’ He ran his thumb between his collar and back. ‘Damned heat,’ he sighed. ‘And here it is only ten o’clock.’

‘Take your coat off again,’ Meyer recommended.

‘So I will. I don’t see how my sweat can promote the morale of the troops.’

While Gausser removed his coat, Meyer fell to thinking about his 2nd Platoon again. Although he had vouched for its coming through in talking to the captain, he had no illusion about the situation of Steiner and his men. He had spent over an hour studying the map early this morning and the picture he had formed of the terrain was scarcely reassuring. That damnable forest, he thought; I should have taken the platoon along with me. In all that confusion nobody would have noticed.

He turned abruptly to Gausser. ‘I must make a call. Will you come with me?’

‘Glad to.’ As they made their way to 2nd Company’s combat post, Meyer spoke of his fears for his platoon. ‘I’m going to call Kiesel,’ he said. ‘The 2nd and 3rd also left platoons behind. Perhaps Regiment has had some report from them.’

The field telephone stood on a low table in the centre of the bunker. Gausser sat down on a corner of the table and let his feet dangle while Meyer made his call. The conversation was brief. When Meyer hung up he was frowning blackly. ‘I can’t believe it. The other battalions took their platoons right with them.’

‘What?’ Gausser stared at him. ‘How could they have?’

‘The order came from Division. As soon as 3rd Battalion left, the Russians pushed up with strong forces. Well, you know Major Vogel. He said to hell with Division’s order and took his platoon along. Same thing happened in 2nd Battalion, or must have happened. Kiesel wouldn’t commit himself over the telephone. Apparently he’s worried about complications.’

‘God! What call is there for complications ? That’s two platoons saved from certain destruction. Does Division think two dozen men would have held up the Russians?’

Meyer smiled feebly. ‘Kiesel will find a way to make it right with the general—if he ever finds out about it.’

‘And what does the Lieutenant -Colonel Brandt have to say about it?’ Gausser wanted to know.

‘I don’t know. I assume -’ He fell silent and abruptly stood up.

‘What’s the matter?’ Gausser asked uneasily.

Meyer clapped his hand to his forehead. ‘Why didn’t I think of that sooner,’ he said slowly. It had occurred to him that the regimental commander could not know who was leading the platoon that had been left behind. He would be highly interested, Meyer thought. Quickly, he picked up the telephone. Hand over the mouthpiece, he said to Gausser: ‘If Stransky knew I was telephoning Kiesel over his head -’

‘That has already occurred to me,’ Gausser said. ‘Aren’t you afraid he will find out?’

‘Who’d tell him? Besides, as you know, I’m on pretty good terms with Kiesel.’ At that moment the regimental adjutant’s crisp voice answered. With a wink at Gausser, Meyer clamped the telephone under his chin. ‘Meyer again. I forgot to report something which I am sure will interest the lieutenant -colonel. The platoon I had to leave behind is commanded by Corporal Steiner.’ 

For a few seconds there was silence on the other end of the wire. Gausser brought his ear close to the telephone, holding his breath. ‘Steiner ?’ the voice questioned. ‘Yes, Steiner.’ Again a brief pause. Then: ‘I shall inform Colonel Brandt.’

As Meyer hung up, the two men looked at one another. ‘I take it Brandt thinks a good deal of Steiner,’ Gausser said.

‘Rightly so,’ said Meyer. He drew on his cigarette and blew smoke at the ceiling.

‘What kind of a man is he?’ Gausser asked.

Meyer frowned. ‘A problem,’ he said. ‘First -rate soldier; often impossible as a subordinate. He doesn’t seem to know the meaning of respect. But, you know, in cases like this one looks the other way.’

‘Why hasn’t he been promoted?’ Gausser asked.

Mayer scratched his chin uncomfortably. It’s like a conspiracy, he thought. He wished he had some plausible explanation to give Gausser, even though he knew the lieutenant was asking only out of idle curiosity.

Stransky had reached Battalion Combat H.Q. The bunkers were set in the midst of a small orchard whose gnarled trees offered excellent cover against air reconnaissance. At the door of his dugout Stransky paused and studied the terrain carefully. The chain of hills running from west to east dipped into a tapering, trough -shaped hollow here. At its lowest point, some distance from the orchard, the hollow merged into a steep gorge. Sunlight blazed upon the naked soil, which stood out reddish -brown against the cloudless sky. A mousetrap, Stransky thought, and tried to calculate the possibilities for escaping if the Russians should suddenly penetrate into the trough. We would have to retreat through the gorge, he told himself. According to the map, the gorge ran due west for about a mile to the village of Kanskoye, where the battalion’s transport was parked.

The noise of someone clearing his throat behind him startled Stransky. He turned. A soldier stood some yards away. Recognizing him, Stransky gave a gracious nod and asked: ‘Well, Dudek, what is it?’

The man came to attention. ‘Your bunker is ready, sir.’ 

‘Good. Where is everybody? The place looks deserted.’

Dudek glanced over toward the trees, beneath which half a dozen other bunkers were concealed. ‘The signalmen are all out laying lines, I think, and the runners also. They are finding out the positions of their companies.’

‘And Lieutenant Triebig?’

‘He must be in his bunker.’

‘Tell him that a sentry is to be posted here at once.’

‘Yes, sir, sentry posted.’ Dudek clicked his heels again. Stransky went into his bunker. Inside everything was extremely neat and clean. Along the wall stood a narrow army cot already made up with blankets. Stransky glanced into the mirror and nervously rearranged some of the toilet articles on a shelf. Then he took off his belt, laid his cap beside the telephone and dropped down on the bed. He found himself unable to stop thinking about his conversations with the two company commanders. The blood rushed to his face at the recollection. He closed his eyes, brooding angrily over Gausser’s impudence. Then his thoughts turned to Steiner. A man he would have to know more about. What had Meyer said—that Brandt thought the world of him ? Probably that had gone to the corporal’s head.

The shrill ringing of the telephone startled him. He reached for the receiver and gave his name. With some uneasiness he recognized the regimental commander’s incisive voice: ‘You left a platoon behind, I hear?’

‘Of course. I received a clear order to do so.’

‘The other battalion commanders also received this order. Are you aware of that?’

‘So Captain Kiesel informed me.’

‘Indeed.’ There was another pause. Stransky pressed the receiver to his ear and heard the rushing of his own blood, excessively loud. Then the commander’s voice spoke again: ‘Are you also aware that the other commanders took it upon themselves to countermand the order?’

‘No,’ Stransky murmured. ‘I cannot understand such conduct, sir. I, at any rate, have strictly obeyed the orders I received.’