PART TWO
1943–1946
Twelve
October 1943
‘Tell me about your family.’
Erich looked sharply at Alice. ‘Why?’
‘I’m interested, that’s all. I want to know if you’re really all that different.’
‘Different?’
‘From me. From the rest of us.’
‘Who is “us”?’
‘Australians.’
A few metres away on the other side of the fence the forest steamed gently in the warmth of the sunshine. For three days spring rains had soaked the tangled undergrowth, and earlier that afternoon the sun had finally broken through. At the doctor’s suggestion Erich had grabbed the opportunity to escape the confines of the hospital and go for a quick walk to stretch his legs. To his discomfort, Alice had immediately volunteered to join him.
‘It is not necessary, I will only be a short time.’
‘Don’t be silly. I want to get some fresh air as well.’
‘I’m sure it won’t kill you to have a little company, Erich.’ Doctor Alexander hadn’t even looked up from his notes. ‘Be back in fifteen minutes, please, both of you.’
But Erich was uncomfortable. In the fortnight since his discussion with Franz, he’d been avoiding the girl as much as possible. He’d met men like that guard Thomas before, and for once he agreed with Stutt. The man was unstable – dangerous. And Thomas had a gun.
‘Well?’
‘Excuse me?’
‘Your family?’
Erich looked away, into the forest. ‘They are not a subject I like to discuss.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because’ – he paused, considering his answer carefully – ‘it is easier not to think about them.’
Alice stopped walking, a thought-crease wrinkling her forehead.
‘How can not thinking about your family be easier? Easier than what?’
‘Look at some of the pathetic men in here. They have no pride left, no hope of returning home with any honour as Germans. That is because all they do is mope about things that are impossible for them at the moment. Wives, lovers . . .’
Alice interrupted. ‘Are you saying that Günter is any less a soldier because he thinks about his wife?’
‘No, I am saying that . . .’
‘Because if you are, then you’re sillier than I thought. Thinking about his wife – after you reminded him, I might add – was the only thing that saved his life. You of all people should realise that.’
‘That is different.’
‘How?’
‘Because Günter, he . . .’
The sentence trailed to silence. For a time the two stood in the pale afternoon, the muted scrapings and whisperings of the wet forest the only sounds.
‘I’m right, aren’t I?’
Erich shrugged. ‘Perhaps.’
‘I am, you know.’
‘How can you be so certain?’
Alice started to walk again. ‘Grandfather let me read the letters that my Uncle Paul sent back from the last war. Letters to my grandmother, and to him.’
‘So?’
‘So when I read them there was something there, something between the words and the descriptions. I could tell that, even though he was so far away, every time he wrote down his thoughts, every time he told my grandmother how much he missed her cooking, every time he sent one of those letters, it seemed like a little bit of him came home with it, and after he was killed those little bits of him were all that my grandparents had to hold on to.’
Erich said nothing, uncomfortable at the emotion.
‘That’s why you need to think of your family. That’s why you need to keep yourself human. Because otherwise, if you don’t, then you really are a soldier, nothing more, and I think that would be terrible. You might as well be a slave.’
For a long time the two young people continued their way in silence, accompanied only by the steady dripping of water off leaves onto undergrowth.
‘I have a sister.’
Alice looked at him. ‘Do you miss her?’
‘Of course. She didn’t want me to join the army.’
‘So why did you still join?’
Erich considered the question carefully. ‘Because of my father. I wanted to prove to him . . .’
Erich stopped himself suddenly, almost caught. The relief of remembering had almost erased the need for caution.
‘Prove what?’
‘I am sorry. I cannot talk about him.’
‘Why ever not?’
The girl reached out and rested her hand lightly on Erich’s arm. With the tingle of his flesh, he briefly recalled her touch when she had led him inside from the storm after Günter’s operation.
‘You can tell me. You know that.’
Indecision flickered. He wanted to tell her. Every part of his mind was screaming out to him that he needed to tell her. Needed to let her in. He realised with shocking, sudden clarity just how lonely he was.
‘Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad.’ Alice watched him carefully.
‘It is not bad at all. It’s different to bad.’
‘Different?’
‘Ja. My father is an honorable man. One of the most brave and intelligent I know.’
‘That’s good, isn’t it?’
Erich didn’t answer, refusing to be drawn any further.
‘I think perhaps we should be getting back to the hospital. The doctor will be wondering what has happened to us.’
Erich started to turn, but Alice stopped him, increasing her grip on his arm. ‘You really don’t like to talk about him, do you?’
‘I do not mean to be impolite, it is just that . . .’
‘Don’t worry,’ she interrupted, ‘you don’t have to tell me anything.’
Suddenly angry, she pulled her hand back and strode away, ahead of him.
‘Alice . . .’ It was the first time he had spoken her name, and he paused, tasting it, liking the way it came off his tongue. The girl turned.
‘Yes?’
‘I . . .’ His English deserted him. She waited briefly for him to find the words and then as the rain started and the first drops splattered into the mud around them she turned again.
‘Come on, Erich. Let’s get back to Grandfather.’
‘Alice, Erich. You were gone a little longer than I’d expected. It’s almost time for us to go, but before we do, Erich, would you mind changing the dressings on Günter’s leg for me?’
‘Of course, Doctor.’
Erich crossed to the bed and applied himself to the task silently and efficiently, his mind wandering.
‘What have you said to the lady, Youngster?’ Günter’s heavy German broke into Erich’s thoughts.
‘Excuse me?’ he replied, also in German.
‘The young lady, if I am not mistaken, is rather upset about something.’
‘You are mistaken.’
‘I do not think so.’ Günter smiled and touched the side of his nose. ‘I am very good at spotting such things, you will find.’
At the far end of the hospital, Alice was seemingly engrossed in a novel.
‘I do not know what you are talking about.’
‘She is not reading that book.’
‘How would you know?’
‘From the way she is glaring at it. And by the fact that every time you look away she glares at you. Have you been upsetting the locals?’
‘Not at all. Now hold still.’ Erich tugged at the loose end of the bandage, tightening it perhaps a little more than was strictly necessary. Günter didn’t even flinch.
‘You should not take your bad temper out on a poor crippled soldier, young one.’
‘And you should mind your own business, or
I will organise to take the other leg off also.’
Günter grinned. ‘At least then I will be a little more balanced. There was a visitor while you were on your walk.’
‘Who?’
‘A friend of yours. That guard.’ Günter avoided saying the name, and Erich realised he was hiding the conversation from the two Australians.
‘What did he want? Trying to make more trouble for me?’
‘My English is not so good, as you know.’ Günter winked. Over the last couple of weeks it had become apparent to Erich that Günter understood a great deal more than he let on. ‘But it seemed to me that he was not interested in you at all until he found out that you were out walking with your little friend over there.’
‘She is not my friend.’
‘The guard seems to think she is.’
‘What did he want with her?’
‘Who can tell?’ Günter gestured with open palms. ‘The good doctor told him that the two of you were out for a few minutes, and then sent him to take paperwork over to the camp commandant’s office. He was not too happy about that.’
‘What did he do?’
‘Tried to get out of it. He suggested that the job was below him, but, as you know, the doctor can be very persuasive.’
‘Nearly finished, Erich?’ Doctor Alexander had locked the heavy cupboard at the end of the room that contained all the medicine and surgical implements. He shrugged on his coat and crossed to the bed. The old man bent to examine the freshly swathed stump. ‘A fine job, as usual. Alice and I will be off now. Will you be all right to finish cleaning up?’
Erich answered with a nod.
‘Fine, then. We’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight, Günter.’
‘Auf Wiedersehen, Herr Doctor.’
Alice passed Erich without saying a word, or even so much as a sideways glance, and as the door swung closed behind her Günter gave a low whistle.
‘You really have upset that girl, Youngster. What did she do to you?’
‘Nothing. She was just prying.’
‘Prying?’
‘Into things that are none of her business.’
Günter shook his head. ‘Youngster, where women are concerned, everything is their business. How about a cigarette?’
Erich went to a small sideboard near the stove, reached under it and extracted a crumpled packet from a small ledge hidden beneath. Removing a single cigarette, he handed it to Günter, who wrinkled his nose in distaste.
‘These pre-rolled ones are terrible. Are you sure you can’t get me my tobacco?’
‘No. Doctor’s orders.’
Günter smiled.
‘The old man is right, you know. You would make a very good physician. You have the demeanour for it.’ The lit cigarette glowed in the dimness, and Erich set about sweeping the floor.
‘I have other plans.’
‘So I understand. You intend to follow your father up through the Wehrmacht, no?’
Erich froze. The words hung in the air.
‘What did you say?’
‘You heard me clearly enough, didn’t you? You military types are all the same. How high up is your father? A general?’
‘I don’t know what you are talking about.’
‘Don’t fool yourself, Youngster. You carry your family with you everywhere. It’s in the way you speak and walk, and Stutt is no idiot. He and every German in this camp knows who you really are, and you can bet that most of the Australians probably do too.’
Erich crossed to where Günter was lying back, one hand behind his head, exhaling thick smoke into the gloom. His eyes narrowed.
‘I think you need to be careful what rumours you spread about people, Günter. Some around here might think they are true.’
‘And I think it is time you were a little more honest with yourself, Youngster. Everyone here knows that the Nazis are losing their power, and they’ll drag the army with them, even the careerists, the old military families like yours. Germany is suffering, Erich, and people like your father don’t have a lot of time left.’
‘What would you know, cripple? My father is a patriot, a true German.’ Erich’s voice was low, anger underlying his words.
‘Probably. A lot of good soldiers are. But when the British win do you think that will make any difference?’
‘The British will be defeated in the end. Germany is winning the war.’
‘That is the official Nazi party line, true, but have you had any letters from home recently?’
Erich stared. ‘You know I haven’t.’
Günter nodded. ‘Ja. Well, some of the men have and the Australians like to talk also, and let me tell you, Youngster, the war is going far from well for our Führer. It is only a matter of time until he and all who support him, and probably many who don’t, fall by the wayside, and then we can all go home again.’
There was no anger in Günter’s voice, only an indefinable sadness that set Erich on edge.
‘What are you saying?’
The old soldier took another long draw on the cigarette and shook his head, exhaling slowly.
‘Nothing, Youngster. I am just rambling.’
‘No.’ Erich pressed him. ‘You are trying to tell me something. What is it?’
Günter looked him directly in the eyes and the contact – not physical but emotional – was frightening.
‘Many things will be very different for a lot of us when we return home, Erich, but also for you.’ He hesitated. ‘Especially for you. You would be wise, I think, to prepare yourself.’
‘For what?’
‘Your father will be dead, for one thing. There is a good chance that he already is, I imagine.’
‘How can you know that from all the way out here in this ugly forest?’
‘Common sense. The tide of the war has turned and we here, you and I, we are the lucky ones. It is only a matter of time until this whole sorry episode is consigned to history for us. But for men like your father, Erich, there can be little hope. Think about it. Hitler is going mad, that’s what all the letters say. Launching insane campaigns, regardless of the cost in lives, and that’s only going to get worse as the war progresses. And even if your father does, somehow, manage to survive the collapse, how long do you think it will be before the allies start to look for scapegoats? Someone to blame for the war? Career men, like your father, officers, will be the first targets. Can’t you see that?’
Erich, his sweeping abandoned, sat heavily in the chair beside the bed, the throbbing of rain on tin the only counterpoint to his breathing.
‘Erich?’ Günter’s voice was gentle.
From somewhere deep within him a wave of pure, raw emotion started to grow, and sensing it, aware of its potential to tear him apart and destroy everything he had been so careful to build here – the safety, the security of superiority – Erich rallied himself against it, squashing it. He forced the wave down and down again until it settled once more, a dull ache in the pit of his stomach and the back of his mind. Finally, he stood on shaking legs to tower above the man in the bed.
‘I think you are wrong.’
For a long moment the two regarded one another through the haze of tobacco smoke, until Günter shook his head, resignedly.
‘Perhaps I am, Youngster, perhaps I am. In any case, how about one more cigarette? To help me sleep.’
Crossing in silence to the sideboard, Erich bent to retrieve the hidden cigarettes and was holding them, getting to his feet again, when the door slammed open.
‘Well, well.’ Guard Thomas removed his slouch hat, flicking droplets of moisture onto the bare floorboards. ‘Look what we have here.’
‘Be careful, Youngster.’
Erich barely heard Günter’s whispered warning. His eyes were locked on the figure standing in the doorway framed
against the darkening sky outside. Thomas’s rifle hung sloppily from its strap, slung under his right shoulder. Runnels of water streamed off his greatcoat, forming dark pools. His flaming red hair was heavy with moisture and his face twisted in a crooked half-smile.
‘Speak English, or don’t speak at all,’ he snapped at Günter, not once taking his eyes off Erich.
‘Can I help you?’
Thomas didn’t answer, but started to prowl around the room, touching this and that, running his fingers lightly over the surfaces of the desks and beds.
‘What are you doing in here on your own?’
‘I am finishing the cleaning up for the evening.’ Erich gestured at the broom, abandoned by Günter’s bed. ‘Then I will be leaving.’
‘Is that right?’ The guard’s eyes glittered.
‘Yes.’
‘Yes what?’
Erich knew that the guard expected him to say ‘sir’, and knew that the safest course would be not to antagonise the young man, but pride wouldn’t allow him.
‘Yes, it is right. You are correct.’
‘Be clever, Erich.’ Günter whispered again in German.
‘I said, speak English.’ By this point Thomas was beside the bed, and he made as if to hit Günter’s bandaged stump.
Günter jumped in involuntary readiness for an impact that never came, the guard’s hand stopping to hover just millimetres above the wounded leg. Thomas laughed.
‘Don’t worry. I’m not about to touch that.’ He spat the word. ‘Who knows what sort of diseases I’d pick up from you krauts, eh?’
He was being provoked. Erich deliberately calmed himself.
‘Do you need something?’
‘I told you.’ Thomas’s gaze returned to meet his. ‘I want to know what you’re really doing here on your own, talking German to him at this time of night. It looks suspicious to me. What’s in here?’ He had reached the locked cupboard behind the desk.
‘That is the medication cabinet. Also where the doctor keeps the surgical implements.’
‘Locked, eh?’ Thomas jiggled the sturdy lock and tested the door. ‘Makes sense, I guess. No trusting you lot, is there?’
‘I should be leaving now.’ Erich stepped towards the door.
Fireshadow Page 9
