The Cross of Iron (61 page)

Triebig stared up at the man’s flushed face, which seemed irradiated by an almost hysterical rapture, and swallowed hard. He felt his scruples being swept away, and when Stransky went on to describe the fate that probably awaited Triebig if he remained here in the bridgehead, the lieutenant clapped his hands over his ears and jumped to his feet.

‘No, no,’ he exclaimed, closing his eyes.

Stransky studied him with satisfaction. ‘You have the choice,’ he declared quietly. ‘You can either go to the dogs somewhere in Siberia or guzzle champagne in France. Which do you prefer?’

‘Steiner will not come back,’ Triebig said softly. ‘I am counting on your word: that you will take me with you to France. But may I know one thing?’

‘What is that?’

Their eyes were locked as Triebig asked it: ‘Why is it so important to you? If you are leaving here in a few days, it shouldn’t matter to you what happens to Steiner.’

There was a brief silence. Stransky stepped over to the window and stared down into the dark courtyard. ‘What happens to Steiner,’ he said at last, ‘is more important to me than whether we win or lose the war. But you will not understand that. It’s my personal affair, Triebig. Go now. Otherwise you’ll be too late. And don’t neglect to keep me informed constantly by radio.’

He waited until the door closed behind Triebig. Then he picked up the telephone and called the communications platoon leader. There were no new messages either by radio or telephone from the other companies. Biting his lips, he laid down the receiver. It’s sickening, he thought.

Ever since Triebig had returned from the regimental command post that fatal evening, Stransky had had the feeling that he was sitting on a volcano. The regimental commander’s threat had been so definite that in the past weeks he had not dared to do anything against Steiner. The consciousness of his impotence had given him some terrible moments. He could do nothing but wait for the proper time, but that time seemed to have come at last. Six feet underground—that was where Steiner belonged. Once this account was settled Stransky could leave the East behind, even without the Iron Cross. At bottom it was Steiner’s fault that he was not already wearing one.

So absorbed was he in his painful thoughts that it took several buzzes from the field telephone before he started up and absently reached for the receiver. But as soon as he recognized Kiesel’s voice he became keenly alert. He listened attentively to the adjutant’s words, and his face paled. What was the fellow saying? Call off all attacks immediately, set up defences along whatever line had been reached and await further orders. And then: ‘Has Triebig started yet?’

‘No,’ Stransky stammered. ‘That is.. He fell silent and thought feverishly. Kiesel’s voice rang coldly in his ears. ‘Beg pardon?’

‘I’ll check,’ Stransky said hastily. ‘One moment please.’

He dropped the receiver to the table, rushed with huge strides out of the room to the hallway and into a room facing the street. As he leaned out of the window he saw a number of men standing together, barely recognizable in the darkness. Then he heard Triebig’s voice issuing muted orders. Stransky opened his mouth to call. Then he compressed his lips and watched stony-faced as the company started moving, marched across the street, and seconds later disappeared from sight. He brushed the back of his hand over his forehead and felt the moisture. Then he hurried back into his room and took up the telephone. ‘The attack has already begun,’ he said in a controlled voice. ‘I can’t stop it now.’ He heard Kiesel exchanging hasty words with someone. Then the hated voice was in his ear again: ‘Are they advancing?’

‘I have no information yet. As soon as I know details, I’ll inform you.’

‘The commander wishes you to. What do your other companies report?’

‘For the past half hour I’ve had no news from them,’ Stransky replied. ‘Couriers are on the way. The last reports said that the third company was close to the waterfront, while the first has scarcely advanced at all; it’s practically fighting in the assembly area.’

‘Very well, Captain Stransky. Make sure that the companies are informed at once. It’s of prime importance that they establish contact on their right and left. If it should turn out that the factory cannot be taken, withdraw your second company to the street and inform us.’

As Stransky laid down the receiver, he thought he heard the sudden blaze of guns. He stepped quickly to the window. He had not been mistaken. ‘It’s at the factory,’ he murmured to himself. The attack had begun.

Some three minutes might have passed when Steiner heard a soft pop such as was produced by the firing of a flare. Without opening his eyes, he waited the necessary period. Then, with the yard in darkness again, he crept cautiously out of the shellhole. Now that the decisive moment was only a few seconds away his excitement had abruptly vanished. As he crawled forward foot by foot toward the black factory wall, his senses were keyed to a pitch of alertness. His eyes were fixed on the dark window opening behind which he guessed the Russian machine-gun was posted.

He had come within ten paces of the building when a piercing cry rang out, so unexpectedly that he pressed himself against the ground and froze. Then followed a succession of hasty words, and before Steiner could recover from his initial start of terror the factory yard was bathed in the merciless light of a flare which hung like a great arc lamp above him. Simultaneously, a machinegun began to chatter. The fearful sound of steel-jacketed bullets hissing by, gashing the dry, sandy soil around him, speeding past his head with an ugly whine, pierced into his consciousness and revived all his reflexes. Before the traversing fire from the invisible machine-gunner could touch him, he bounded across the last few yards, slammed heavily into the stone blocks of the factory wall, and with all the strength of despair hurled the concentrated charge of ten hand-grenades through the yawning void of the narrow window above his head. Then he dropped full-length on the ground, pulled the strap of the tommy-gun over his head and waited. The machine-gun fire swept wildly across the factory yard; it must be coming from one of the windows farther to the west. Above his head he heard several loud shouts that seemed to be passing down through the entire factory. In his excitement he bit his lips till they were bloody. He was beginning to fear he had not pulled the fuse cord of the concentrated charge properly when, inside the building, there was a crash as though the roof had fallen in.

Before the last rumble of the blast had ceased, Steiner swung himself up on the window-sill, jumped off into space, though how high the window was he could not estimate, and landed safely beside a huge machine. The ends of the long hall were lost in darkness. The room seemed to be occupied by a large number of machines of the most varied types, and by several dozen small lathes installed along the row of windows. The machine-gun fire had stopped, but from the further end of the hall he could hear the hasty tramp of nailed boots along the stone blocks of the floor. The sound mounted to a wild drumming as Steiner emptied the magazine of his tommy-gun in that direction. While he reloaded he heard loud shouts from the yard and leaped to the window. Here they came, running shoulder to shoulder, rifles held high, gasping mouths under swaying steel helmets, at their head Schnurrbart and Krüger. Seconds later they poured in through the windows, stumbled over the lathes, in the darkness knocked each other against the machines and shouted all at once, until Steiner’s incisive voice restored some order. He issued his commands precisely and swiftly, and while the last of the men were still climbing into the factory he rushed, followed by the others to the far end of the long hall. They reached a door which led to a narrow corridor on the long side of the room, and a few minutes later the entire first floor of the south wing was in their possession without their having encountered any serious resistance.

‘You’ll get the Knight’s Cross for this,’ Schnurrbart said. He was standing beside Steiner, in the doorway, scanning their immediate neighbourhood. ‘What a place!’ He pointed to the long corridor which ran parallel to the machinery room. ‘I wonder where that leads.’

‘Must go to the yard,’ Steiner replied. ‘Up at the front end must be the tower. Perhaps a stairway leads up.’ He glanced speculatively at the dozen windows in the left side of the corridor and went cautiously up to one of them to see what lay outside. But as soon as he moved a few steps away from the door a Russian machine-gun let loose. The bullets rattled through the windows. The men dropped to their knees and crawled hastily back through the door into the main hall, where the others had meanwhile distributed themselves along the windows.

‘Nothing for it,’ Schnurrbart growled, glumly rubbing his hairy chin. ‘At any rate they can’t get in again.’

‘And we can’t get out,’ Steiner said. ‘Let’s fire that flare.’ 

After sending up the agreed signal, they made a thorough inspection of the room. There were two doors, one on either end, each leading out to the corridor. Although they examined every nook and corner, and even looked under the machinery by the beams of their flashlights, they found no trace of any Russians. Steiner was about to return to the windows to await the arrival of Triebig when a man came running up to him and informed him that there was an elevator in the right-hand corner of the hall. He followed the man. Behind an iron double door, both leaves of which stood wide open, yawned a dark shaft. When Steiner flashed his light down into it, he observed a massive platform hanging in iron guide rails on both sides. It was operated by strong steel cables. His attention was immediately attracted by a row of steel rungs attached at intervals of a foot or so to the front face of the shaft. They extended both up and down until they were lost in darkness, and they were covered by a thick layer of dust. He flashed the light upward, but could not see to the top of the shaft. However, there was no time to study the elevator shaft more closely, since the rest of the company had by then arrived. In a caustic voice the lieutenant inquired about the state of affairs. ‘We have to occupy the windows and investigate the corridor,’ Steiner declared. ‘How strong are we?’

‘About fifty men,’ Triebig replied. He stood with his back to a window, his eyes wandering uneasily up and down the hall.

‘Not much,’ Steiner said. ‘I would suggest that we secure the hall with half our men and use the other half to see where the corridor leads. Perhaps we’ll run into a stairway leading to the upper floors.’

‘That’s silly,’ one of the men objected. Steiner recognized Sergeant Schulz.

‘Have you any better ideas?’ Steiner asked coldly.

‘I’m for our sticking together,’ Schulz replied. ‘We won’t get far with twenty-five men, and we can never occupy this factory if we had a lifetime.’

‘We must keep our retreat open,’ Steiner declared. ‘It’s sure we can’t hold this building permanently with fifty men. Once the Russians find out how weak we are, they’ll make things hot for us.’ Schulz growled something under his breath, but when Triebig agreed to Steiner’s suggestion he fell into an angry silence. He sat down on a machine and let his legs dangle.

Steiner turned to Triebig. ‘I would suggest that you post an MG outside by the fence. If the Russians should get there before us our way across the yard will be cut off.’

Triebig rejected the suggestion. ‘We have only three MG’s. I can’t spare one of them. Besides, I don’t think it will occur to the Russians to do that. They need their men to occupy the other floors.’

‘Whatever you think. I’ve warned you.’ Steiner looked around until he caught sight of Schnurrbart, who was standing nearby with Krüger and Faber, attending closely to the discussion. ‘Get your men together,’ he ordered them. ‘We’ll take a look at the situation now.’

‘What about the elevator?’ Schnurrbart asked.

‘That comes later. First we’ll try the stairs. If that doesn’t work, we can always break our bones on the iron ladder.’

‘Nice prospect,’ Krüger grumbled. He looked around the room. All the windows had been occupied by sentries meanwhile, and the company stood round Triebig, who was talking rapidly with Sergeant Schulz.

‘Well, let’s try it,’ Schnurrbart said, and called over the men of his group. While Krüger did the same, Steiner went to the door on the right and peered out into the corridor. All was still out there. Through the corridor window he could see into the back yard, where several trucks were parked. Undoubtedly they were not usable; they must have belonged to the factory. He turned to the right. Here he could not use his flashlight, since the glow of it could be seen from the yard. Groping his way forward in the darkness, he kept close to the left-hand wall. He had gone about thirty feet in this manner when the hall ended in a closed door. By feel Steiner decided that it would open outward.

‘Watch out,’ Schnurrbart warned him. He kept close behind Steiner and watched anxiously as Steiner reached for the latch.

The rest of the men stood pressed against the wall, holding their weapons ready to fire. Something about the unnatural stillness throughout the entire factory made Steiner nervous. Instead of proceeding cautiously, he kicked out violently at the door, knocking it wide open, while at the same time he threw
hims
elf to one side against the wall.

The consequences were breathtaking and frightful. Through the pitchblack doorway half a dozen Russian tommy-guns barked. The cone of fire whipped down the corridor, whirling the men away from the wall as though the rough stone paving blocks of the floor had suddenly been transformed into smooth ice. While the men toward the front were protected by the dead angle, those further back were helplessly exposed to the fire. The animal screams of men who had been hit sounded down the corridor. Steiner huddled to the wall. Although he had half reckoned with such a possibility, he was for a few seconds paralysed by fright. Then he feverishly pulled a hand grenade out of his belt, unscrewed the safety cap and pulled out the button. He waited a full three seconds before he tossed the grenade through the door. Out of the corners of his eyes he saw Schnurrbart also throwing a grenade. The detonations rumbled so violently in the narrow corridor that Steiner clapped his hands to his ears, deafened for a moment. Paying no attention to what was going on behind his back, he leaped into the doorway and began blazing away blindly into the darkness. The Russian machine-guns had stopped firing. He thought he heard hasty cries. From somewhere sounded a dull thud such as might be produced by a heavy door being slammed shut. Then silence in front of him. When he switched on his flashlight, he saw several steps leading down into a continuation of the corridor which was here at a slightly lower level. In front of him lay the twisted bodies of two Russians. Raising the beam of his flashlight, he saw that the corridor made a right-angle turn and apparently continued on toward the yard. For a second he stood indecisive. Then several loud explosions sounded behind him. He whirled around and bumped against Krüger, who shouted: ‘They’re throwing hand grenades in through the windows.’ Schnurrbart also came up behind him and urged him to hurry. Steiner grasped the latch and drew the door closed behind him. ‘Back to the big room.’ he said.