The Cross of Iron (9 page)

‘It may be assumed,’ Stransky went on, ‘that the enemy is aware of this danger and will spare no efforts to eliminate the threat to his rear. Our division’s sector runs from here north -westward as far as the inlets near Temryuk. As you see, the bridgehead resembles a bow with the Black Sea forming the bowstring. To the south, touching our right wing, are two rifle divisions; to the north an infantry division. I am afraid that a Russian attack would be directed primarily against our sector since, as you see, the marshes to the north form a natural obstacle. Moreover, do not overlook the importance of the highway which leads through our sector. Given the limited extent of the bridgehead, every square yard of ground yielded would represent a serious loss. Our present line, the Siegfried position, must be held in all circumstances.’ Stransky turned away from the map. Emphatically, he continued: ‘See to it that the positions are sound. Put maximum pressure on your men to get the work done. Every shovelful of dirt, every dugout and foxhole, offsets the danger of a break -through. Do not forget that we have only water at our backs.’

He fell silent, letting his eyes rove over the faces of the officers. They were attentive in earnest now. Meyer cleared his throat and asked: ‘Where is the ferry landing?’

Stransky turned to the map again. ‘We have two landing places. The first is near Tamanskaya, the second west of the salt marsh. Up to the present six ferries have been employed. They require about an hour for crossing the strait. So far, mines and low-flying planes have sunk two of our ferries. Moreover, it is to be expected that the Russians will be sending in submarines to stop the ferries.’ 

‘Nice prospect,’ Merkel exclaimed. ‘What are we going to do about that?’

‘The proper measures will be taken when the time comes,’ Stransky said stiffly.

Gausser, who had been listening with obvious uneasiness, spoke up. ‘What reserves have been provided?’

Stransky went over to the map again. ‘An assault regiment stationed west of Kanskoye is at the disposal of the division. Furthermore, in order to assure swift and smooth communications, the construction of two asphalt roads is planned. Engineering companies have already started work. Incidentally, I must not forget to mention that the construction of a large airfield north of Novorosisk was decided on today. Have you any other questions?’

The officers crowded around the map. They began vehemently discussing the chances for the bridgehead. Meyer turned to Stransky, who had stepped somewhat to one side. ‘If the Russians should succeed in making a break-through beyond Taganrog and occupying the Perekop peninsula-’ Meyer did not continue. The company commanders exchanged significant looks, while Stransky frowned darkly. He pointed to the map again. ‘As you can see, Herr Meyer, Taganrog is some 200 miles east of Perekop. The development you suggest would take a good deal of time, which would enable the Supreme Command to make the necessary precautions.’

‘As at Stalingrad,’ Merkel put in.

Stransky whirled to face the speaker. ‘I believe, Lieutenant Merkel, that superior authorities are more competent than you to form a proper estimate of Stalingrad. A company commander’s horizon is too limited for a view of the larger problems of the struggle. In any case, in the event of such a thing, the situation would be just the same for you whether you were in the Crimea or here in the Kuban bridgehead.’ He took a step away from the group. ‘I shall expect your reports by telephone on the progress of construction work at 1700 hours. That will be all.’ He made a gesture of dismissal. The officers saluted stiffly and were shown to the door by Triebig. Outside the bunker, they separated. Meyer, accompanied by Gausser, slowly climbed up the slope. They did not speak until they reached Meyer’s headquarters. Then Gausser asked: ‘What do you think of all that?’

‘No comment needed,’ Meyer said.

Gausser grinned. They stood for a moment on the top of the steps leading down into the bunker. The sun burned fiercely. ‘I don’t like this quiet,’ Gausser said. He glanced toward the woods.

‘Neither do I,’ Meyer murmured. ‘The Russians ought to have got here long ago. And the hill makes a beautiful target for them.’

‘It sure does.’

They looked at one another, and Meyer said: ‘Let’s hope for the best.’

Gausser nodded. ‘We can use a little hope.’ He hesitated. Then he held out his hand to Meyer. ‘I’ll be off. Good-bye!’ A few steps away he turned and called back: ‘Steiner will certainly be along soon.’

Meyer smiled gratefully. When Gausser disappeared around the next bend in the trench, he sighed heavily. Where could the platoon be at this moment?

THE PLATOON HAD been slogging for more than four hours through the pathless woods. The thorny undergrowth ripped the men’s uniforms and scratched their hands and faces. They moved through a sultry hothouse atmosphere which made them sweat from every pore, while the repulsive odour rising from the marshy ground sickened them. To make matters worse, a cloud of almost invisible stinging mites had descended upon them. There was no defence against these. In places the ground was so mucky that they had to take big detours, losing precious time.

Krüger marched behind Schnurrbart. His face was streaming sweat; his eyes were burning as though pepper had been thrown into them. The machine-gun felt like a ton on his right shoulder. Following the example of the others, he had long ago thrown away his gas mask and steel helmet. When he stopped for a moment, as he did frequently, he could feel his legs quivering and threatening to collapse. His throat felt like a dry sponge which would not let the air pass through and which sucked every drop of fluid out of his body.

The other men were no better off. Dietz was suffering the worst. He kept his mouth wide open and reeled forward from one step to the next. The heavy boxes of ammunition hung from his arms like lead weights, dragging his feeble body down. Steiner had carried the boxes for him for a while. But Dietz was already so done in that this temporary relief did not help. He stared dully at the ground as he trudged. His mind had almost ceased functioning, and he was so exhausted that he felt little pain. Worst of all was the thirst. There was a steady roaring in his ears as though a clear mountain stream were pouring down over nearby rocks. But whenever he raised his inflamed eyes expectantly, he saw nothing but the endless tangle of underbrush and the labyrinth of trees.

He forced himself to go on for a while; then his knees suddenly gave way and he fell forward on his face, moaning. Dorn, who was close behind him, stopped in alarm. Then he tried to shout to make the others aware of what had happened. But his voice sounded like the hoarse cawing of a crow; he had to call several times before the men up front paused. When Steiner came running back, the men dropped where they were and did not stir.

‘What’s the trouble?’ Steiner asked.

Dorn shrugged helplessly. ‘He’s collapsed.’

Steiner cursed. He stooped and shook Dietz vigorously by the shoulders. ‘Get up,’ he said. ‘Let’s have no nonsense. We’ve got to keep going.’

Dietz did not stir. Steiner glanced quickly around at the men. They were lying on the ground, gasping, and he realized that it would be some time before he could get them to their feet again. His face darkened. He took his canteen from his belt and poured some of the lukewarm water over the unconscious man’s temples and forehead. With his other hand he unbuttoned Dietz’s tunic. But it was some minutes before Dietz opened his eyes and looked around in bewilderment.

‘Well now,’ Steiner said, pleased. ‘You mustn't give out on us, Baby. We still have a long way to go.’

‘I’m done in,’ Dietz sighed, struggling to sit up. Steiner bit his lip. This was all they needed. They had not yet covered even half the distance, and the fellows were breaking down already.

‘You’ll have to call a rest,’ Schnurrbart said, getting up and coming over to Steiner.

‘It’s two o’clock,’ Steiner said tersely.

Schnurrbart shrugged. ‘I know, but what can’t be done can’t be.’

Reluctantly, Steiner growled, ‘All right.’ He noticed Zoll, who was lying on his stomach off to one side, his head pillowed in his arms. Steiner went over to him and asked, ‘Where are your ammunition boxes?’ The others became attentive. When Zoll still did not stir, Steiner dug the toe of his boot into his side. ‘Didn’t you hear me?’

‘Lemme alone,’ Zoll grunted.

‘He had ’em ten minutes ago,’ Krüger said. ‘The shirker must have dumped them.’

Steiner shifted his tommy-gun to his left hand. ‘Then he’ll go back for them.’ When Zoll still did not move, Steiner stooped down quickly, gripped him by his cartridge belt and pulled him to his feet. His face twisted with fury, Zoll whirled round. Before Steiner could stop him, he snatched up his rifle and raised the barrel threateningly. ‘Keep your dirty paws off me,’ he whispered hoarsely. ‘If you touch me again, bang!’

Steiner looked into the man’s maddened face with a sort of curiosity. ‘You’re too yellow,’ he declared quietly. ‘Watch?’ He dropped his tommy-gun. When Schnurrbart and Krüger started toward them, he gestured them back. They stood still and watched as Steiner stepped so close to Zoll that the barrel of the rifle was directly in front of his stomach. ‘They’ll hang you if you shoot,’ Steiner said. Quietly he reached out, grasped the rifle by the barrel and took it from Zoll’s hands. It was done so matter-of-factly that no one was surprised. A sigh arose from the men; their tense bodies sagged like a taut rope that has been slashed in two. ‘The bastard,’ Krüger muttered. They stared at Zoll, who still stood motionless, his face reflecting fear and rage and shame. Steiner picked up his tommy-gun. In the same matter-of-fact way he said: ‘We’re going on in fifteen minutes. Fetch those boxes.’ Zoll hesitated for just a second. Then he turned and went off into the brush. Krüger cursed. ‘Next chance I have I’ll let the bastard have it.’

‘I’ll take care of him,’ Steiner said. He went over to Dietz. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Coming along,’ Dietz said valiantly, forcing a weary smile. Steiner gave him a heartening nod. The others had stretched out again, and Anselm asked, ‘How far do we still have to go?’

Steiner shrugged. ‘More than half the way.’

‘We won’t make that today,’ Pasternack said.

Maag disagreed violently. ‘The hell we won’t; man, we’ve got to.’

‘Not through these lousy woods,’ Hollerbach said gravely.

Krüger cursed again. ‘I wish we knew where we are,’ he raged. ‘God damn this bloody forest; we should have tried the road. The devil take these things!’ He slapped at a gnat that had settled on his forehead. ‘They’re driving me crazy.’

‘Crazier,’ Schnurrbart murmured while he filled his pipe.

Kern, watching him, said: ‘Smoke it up. Perhaps it’ll drive the bugs away.’

Steiner came over to them. ‘How you doing, Professor?’ he asked Dorn.

His amiable tone made Dorn look up in astonishment. He smiled. ‘I’ll manage, if it doesn’t get any worse.’

Steiner stuck a cigarette between his lips. Thumb on the match-head he said: ‘It’s bound to get worse.’

He showed no signs of tiredness. Tough as nails, Dorn thought. He asked: ‘Why don’t you sit down?’

‘Because when the time for getting up comes round, you’re more tired than you were,’ Steiner replied.

Schnurrbart nodded emphatically. ‘That’s true.’

‘Then why have you sat down?’ Dorn asked.

Schnurrbart puffed fiercely at his pipe and blew smoke into the centre of a huge swarm of insects. ‘I can answer that,’ he said grimly. ‘I sat down because I’m so tired now that I couldn’t be any more tired.’

Dorn smiled. ‘That coming from you!’ He knew that Schnurrbart was if anything tougher than Steiner, and recalled the forty-mile marches they had put in daily on their way to the Caucasus. In the evening, the men had often been so exhausted that they were unable to eat, although those rations were the first which had been distributed all day. Not so Schnurrbart and Krüger. As soon as they reached their quarters for the night, the two had scouted through all the houses and barns, requisitioning everything they could lay hands on. Long after the others were asleep, they would be sitting up in the kitchen, the smell of roasted chicken wafting through the peasant hut. The memory reminded Dorn of how hungry he was. He swallowed and pressed his hands against his stomach. If only I had a slice of bread he thought. But like the others, he had finished off his last chunk of bread early that morning. A fragrant slice of fresh bread such as he used to have for breakfast every morning at home. He closed his eyes, a voluptuous shiver running down his spine as he pictured the bakery on his corner, the windows heaped with piled-up loaves. Maddening.

He looked up when Schnurrbart spoke to him. ‘We’re going on Professor.’ He forced his eyes to stay open. The other men were already on their feet. Zoll stood to one side, his face inflamed and sweaty, but a box of ammunition in either hand. As Dorn stood up, he felt how shaky he was. Schnurrbart asked: ‘Were you asleep, Professor?’ Dorn shook his head.

‘Ready?’ Steiner called out.

Schnurrbart pulled his belt higher and grinned. ‘Ready and willin’.’

‘You take the rear,’ Steiner said to him. ‘See that nobody drops any more ballast. Come on!’ They followed him wordlessly. The ground where they had rested had been firm, but it soon turned to swamp again. Water welled up under their footsteps and seeped into their boots. Fortunately the underbrush was less dense and thinned out even more as they went on. Maag shook his head. ‘I think we’re heading straight into a lake.’

‘So do I,’ Anselm said. ‘What’s that up ahead there? Reeds or something.’

Maag stretched his neck forward. ‘Sure is,’ he said, distressed. ‘What’s the sense of going on? He ought to stop.’

They were already sinking in up to their ankles when Steiner came to a stop. About thirty yards ahead of them an enormous expense of reeds cut a swath across the woods. Brown water shimmered among the thick stems. Beyond the reeds the woods were thinner; they could catch glimpses of blue sky.

One by one the men came up to Steiner, who was staring at the reeds with a set expression.