They Used Dark Forces (72 page)

Inside the station he found great activity going on. Although it was roofless, and in places great girders had fallen across the tracks, the Russians were using the platforms for dumps of ammunition and stores. Gregory saw too that, although trains could not enter the station, the Russian engineers must have got some of the lines working as, in the distance, several engines were puffing.

Now that he had got out of the Chancellery area he no longer had to fear being blown up by a shell or shot by a Russian, but there was still the danger that an officer might speak to him and discover that he was wearing a stolen uniform. Since he had tied the bloodstained strip of shirt round his jaw as well as his head he was in hopes that if accosted it would provide an adequate excuse for not answering; but there was an unpleasant possibility that some well-meaning ‘comrade' might take him by the arm and insist on leading him to the nearest first-aid post.

Keeping a wary look-out, he walked out of the far end of the station and along the tracks to a great open siding where two trains were being unloaded by fatigue parties. A third, he saw, was empty and in the process of shunting, so it looked as if it was about to move out to fetch up another cargo of supplies. Now that he was in full sight of the unloading parties he slowed his pace, let his head hang forward and staggered a little, as though in great pain. Then, as the shunting train came to a halt, he lurched forward in a stumbling run, grasped the ledge of an empty cattle truck that had its doors open and pulled himself up into it.

For some minutes the train remained stationary while he lay in the semi-darkness, fearing that at any moment a transport officer would come along, find him there and, perhaps, accuse him of attempting to get away from the battle without permission.

At length the train jerked into motion. Travelling at not more than twenty miles an hour it covered some three miles, then for about a quarter of an hour it continued on between the vast areas of ruined buildings, frequently stopping and starting until, Gregory judged, it must be a good five miles from central Berlin. His belief that it had passed Lichterfelde
was confirmed as it moved on into comparatively open country. So next time it jolted to a halt he jumped from it to the ground.

To his alarm, as he crossed the neighbouring track to the edge of an embankment he heard someone shouting at him. Turning his head he saw that in the rear truck of the train a heavy machine gun had been mounted and that its crew were making violent signals to him to return. Ignoring them, he slithered down the embankment and climbed a fence into a garden.

He had no sooner got over it than the machine gun started to chatter and individual rifle shots rang out. Believing that he was being shot at he flung himself flat among some low bushes, but no bullets came anywhere near him. After a few minutes he peered out. Machine guns both at the front and rear of the train were being fired by the Russians, but not in his direction. As he watched one of them fell wounded, hit by a bullet fired from somewhere along the side of the track. Gregory then realised why the Russians, believing him to be one of themselves, had yelled at him to come back. The train was passing through an area still held by the Germans.

The knowledge filled him with dismay. By taking the Russian soldier's uniform and getting on the train he had covered in three-quarters of an hour a distance that, dodging about on foot, would have taken him at least three hours. But he had come out of Berlin by the main line, not the one further west which served the Grunewald and the suburbs along the Havel; so to reach the villa he had still some four miles to go across country, and since it was held by Germans he was now liable to be shot on sight at any moment.

For a few minutes he contemplated hiding until darkness came down, but he knew that if he did thoughts of what might be happening to Erika would drive him insane. Taking off his pointed cloth cap, so that from the distance his Russian uniform would be less readily identifiable, he stuffed it inside his tunic. As he did so he saw that the pistol was no longer in its holster. The flap must have been wrenched open and the weapon have fallen out as he climbed the fence; but, as he had the Sten gun, the loss of the pistol gave him no concern.
Getting to his feet he warily approached the house at the other end of the garden.

It had been bombed, but appeared to be only slightly damaged. Tiptoeing round it, he looked in through several shattered windows; then, as the house was apparently deserted, he climbed through one of them. The floor of the room he entered was covered with fallen plaster and broken ornaments. In the hall he saw there had been a fire that had burnt part of the staircase. As he went up it the boards creaked ominously, but took his weight. In one of the bedrooms he found, as he had hoped, a wardrobe containing several suits of clothes. Laying the Sten gun close at hand on the unmade bed, he got out of his uniform.

He was still in his underclothes when he heard the stairs creak. Grabbing up the gun he took cover behind the bed. Next moment a big bull-necked crop-headed German, who had evidently been down in the cellar, came into the room. He was in his shirtsleeves and holding a Mauser pistol. As he raised it threateningly and called to Gregory to come out, Gregory ducked. On the floor beside him there was a pair of heavy shoes. Taking one of them in his left hand, while still covered by the bed, he threw it in the direction of the door. The German jerked himself sideways to avoid it. At that instant Gregory bobbed up and fired a burst from his Sten gun.

As he traversed the Sten gun its bullets thudded into the German's chest and both his arms. He coughed, blood spurted from his mouth and he fell dead, doubled up on the floor.

Gregory would have preferred only to wound him, but he had not dared risk being shot himself or chance the man's shouting for help and perhaps raising a hue and cry. At all costs he had to get to Erika. Quickly he got a suit out of the wardrobe and put it on. It was much too big for him but that could not be helped, and the turn-ups of the trousers served to conceal the greater part of the Russian's regulation boots. On the top of the wardrobe there was a light weekend case. Getting it down he crammed the Russian uniform into it on the chance that it might again prove useful. It then occurred to him that a civilian carrying a Sten gun might have it taken from him by some soldier who had run out of ammunition; so he
threw it on the bed, retrieved the German's Mauser and thrust it into his jacket pocket.

Two minutes later he was out in the street, looking cautiously to right and left. No-one was about and he soon realised the reason. As the Germans still held this area, the Russians were shelling it; so all the inhabitants had taken refuge in air-raid shelters or their cellars. Taking his direction from a watery sun, he hurried through several streets that were similar to that in Dahlem where Ribbentrop had lived, but with smaller houses.

Half of them had been gutted by fire and many of the trees in their gardens were black and leafless from having been set alight by incendiary bombs. Two German armoured cars rattled past but their crews took no notice of him. Every few minutes a shell whined over or burst a few hundred yards away. No-one can judge where a bomb will fall, but anyone who has had experience of being shelled can guess roughly where a missile is likely to land; so whenever one seemed likely to fall near him, Gregory was able to take cover behind a low wall, or throw himself flat. Here and there he glimpsed German troops posted in ruined buildings that they had made into strong-points, and twice on looking down roads leading south he saw that manned barricades composed of wrecked cars, tree trunks and paving stones had been erected.

He had passed several corpses both of soldiers and civilians and scarcely given them a look, but when he had covered about two miles he caught sight of a young woman running down a side road. Her stockings were down round her ankles, a part of her torn skirt was trailing behind her, her upper garments had been ripped away leaving her breasts bare, and her hair was in wild disorder. It was obvious that she had been assaulted and, apparently, driven crazy.

Since Gregory had left the railway he had seen only troops in German uniforms; so it might be that some of them, knowing that within a day or two they must be dead or prisoners, had seized the girl and raped her. On the other hand it was possible that she had fallen into the hands of the Russians and had only just escaped from them. From Potsdam the Russians might by now have come up the Havel and landed on the west side of the long lake towards which he was heading. The thought of
their bursting into the villa and what would follow caused him more agony of mind than had even the fear two nights earlier that Grauber would burn out his eyes.

Weary in mind and body, but imbued with an overwhelming urge to reach the villa at the earliest possible moment, he pressed on; at times running a few hundred yards, at others pausing to crouch down when a shell came over. As he progressed he continued to see German troops here and there and, to his heartfelt relief, when he reached the shore of the Havel there was no sign of the Russians.

He had left the bunker a little before three o'clock. Having come by train for over half the distance he had made the journey in only a little more than three hours. It was ten past six when he crossed the causeway to the small island on which the villa stood. At his first glimpse of it through the still-standing trees his heart gave a lurch. Another bomb had hit it squarely, reducing it to a pile of rubble.

When had the bomb fallen? Less than three days ago Malacou had been at the villa and had brought back a letter from Sabine; so it must have been since then. Erika had driven out there the previous morning and, if she had arrived there safely, must have been in it for the past thirty hours. If she had been there when the bomb came down it was a hundred to one that her mangled body lay buried somewhere among the pile of bricks and masonry.

Gregory began to run again, and as he ran he prayed, ‘Oh God, don't let it be! Don't let it be!'

It took him five agonising minutes to reach the remains of the villa. Even the partition walls that had formed the rooms were unrecognisable. The upper storeys had buried the lower rooms in a great pile of debris from which, here and there, pieces of smashed furniture protruded.

In a forlorn hope he turned and ran to the garage, on the outside chance that they had escaped the bomb and taken refuge there. That too had been partially destroyed by the blast, but he forced his way through the shattered doors. It was empty. There was no sign that anyone had temporarily occupied it and neither Erika's van nor Sabine's car was there.

Tears started to his eyes and ran down his lean haggard
cheeks. Dazed by this last terrible blow after having survived so many perils to reach the villa, he staggered round into the garden behind it. For some moments he stood staring dull-eyed at the pile of ruins, then he turned and looked towards the lake. On the roof of the boathouse there was a splash of colour.

Could it be? Yes, by God it was! A small Red Cross flag had been spread out and weighted down on the boathouse roof. A surge of new strength suddenly animated his limbs. He pelted across the lawn and burst in through the door. On a bench inside Erika and Malacou, propped up by cushions from the boat, were dozing.

For the next few minutes Gregory and Erika were incoherent. Both had almost given up hope of ever seeing the other again. With tears of joy streaming down their faces they clung together.

In jerky sentences between kisses they gave one another the gist of what had happened to them during the past day and a half. Gregory gasped out that Hitler was dead; that he had actually seen his body being carried up to be burned. That meant that the war was as good as over.

Erika then told him of her drive out of Berlin with Malacou. It had been a ghastly journey. Two-thirds of the streets they had tried had been blocked by craters or rubble. A low-flying Russian 'plane had then machine-gunned them from the air, riddling the roof of the van with bullet holes. Finally, driving down the road along the shore of the Havel a Russian shell had exploded within twenty yards of them. Blast from it had turned the van over and they had been lucky to escape only with bad bruises. But the van had then caught fire, so had to be abandoned. They had walked the last two miles, only to find the villa in ruins and, it was to be assumed, Sabine and Trudi buried somewhere under them.

Malacou added his quota and gave full vent to his delight that Hitler was really dead. With sudden gravity he added, ‘I was right in my prediction that I would outlive him. Now I have nothing left to live for. I have a small fortune in Sweden and could make more money if I wished; but my beloved Khurrem is dead, so I can foresee no future happiness for myself. As you are both aware I have made obeisance to Him
whom you term the Evil One, but that has enabled me to avenge my race; so I do not regret it. He is the Lord of this World and to this World I shall return, perhaps again as His henchman with a further opportunity to penetrate the great mysteries. Or it may be that as a child of ignorance I shall be set upon another path to atone for such ill as I have inflicted on my fellow beings in this and my past lives. Whatever may be my present fate and unforeseeable future, I am now content at any time to pass on.'

Erika said quickly, ‘God's mercy is infinite, and you used such weapons as you had to fight for your people. Hitler's death will save the lives of many thousands of them in the Bavarian and Austrian camps whom he would have had murdered if he had lived on for another few months.'

‘That's true,' Gregory nodded, ‘and it encourages me to hope that I'll be forgiven for having countenanced the methods that we used.'

There was a moment's embarrassed silence, then Erika said to Gregory, ‘Darling, have you brought any food in that little case you were carrying? All of ours was destroyed when my van was burnt. The only thing I managed to save was the flag from its bonnet. We've had nothing to eat for twenty-four hours so we're absolutely starving.'