Murder's Art

by Christopher Nicole

  ‘I will make those on the ground,’ Tony said, ‘when we have reconnoitred the situation. Dismissed.’

  They left, muttering to each other.

  ‘They are looking forward to it,’ Sandrine said. ‘Killing the enemy.’

  ‘Are you?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ she said. ‘Oh, yes.’

  Five

  Ambush

  ‘Aren’t they a splendid sight?’ Angela von Blintoft clung to Fritz Wassermann’s arm as they stood at the gates of the palace complex and watched the tanks roll by on the street outside. In every cupola there was a figure standing to attention, right arm thrown out in the Nazi salute. Behind the panzers came the infantry, a glitter of green helmets and uniforms and black boots, marching beneath their banners in perfect unison, battalion after battalion.

  The street, which was overhung with flags of red, white and black, was crowded with spectators. The people were quiet, however. Although they were unable to resist the dramatic appeal of a military parade, they yet understood that these men were their masters rather than their friends.

  ‘Do they hate us?’ Angela asked.

  ‘Oh, undoubtedly,’ Wassermann said. ‘But then, the conquered always hate their conquerors. With time, however, they usually grow to accept the situation. And after this campaign is completed, they will have no further reason to resist us.’

  She squeezed his arm; she no longer made any secret of the fact that they were lovers. Papa had never enquired as to whether they had been to bed together, had accepted, as Angela was a lady and Wassermann a German officer, that if they had, or were contemplating it, they were also contemplating marriage. And although she knew that he did not actually care for the idea of his police chief as his son-in-law – because of both the age difference and Wassermann’s lack of an upper-class background, as exemplified by the absence of a ‘von’ before his name – he could not doubt that the major’s constant attention had done wonders in helping his daughter to overcome the trauma of her mother’s death. Neither he nor anyone else had the slightest idea of the games they played in private, even if some of the clerks at Gestapo headquarters might wonder at the number of times the major took the general’s daughter into the downstairs office late at night. ‘I wish you didn’t have to go,’ she said.

  ‘I am looking forward to it. I have waited a long time for the opportunity to really deal with those thugs.’

  ‘But if you were to be hit …’

  ‘There is no chance of that. I am not going to be in the front line. My business is cleaning up after the soldiers have destroyed them.’

  ‘Then let me come with you.’

  ‘Your papa would never agree. Listen, you can join me after the battle.’

  ‘Promise?’

  ‘Promise. I will arrange it. You will miss nothing, really.’

  ‘Oh, you darling. Papa!’

  Blintoft had watched the parade surrounded by his senior officers. Now he approached them. ‘Come, Wassermann,’ he said benevolently. ‘Leave her alone for five minutes. We have plans to make.’

  The general stood above the map on the huge table in his office. ‘Now then, gentlemen,’ he told the lesser generals and colonels who stood about him, ‘the first thing I have to say to you is that our business is to entirely wipe out this group calling itself the Partisans. Now, let us consider what we have to do. Our information, gathered so diligently by Major Wassermann’ – he allowed his gaze to flicker up and over his prospective son-in-law – ‘is that the Partisans are grouped in and around Uzice’ – he prodded the map – ‘in the number of roughly three thousand men. That is a sizeable force. We also know that they have established a defensive perimeter behind the town, to which they will withdraw once our aerial bombardment commences. Bearing this in mind, I have determined that we shall not carry out the proposed aerial attack.’

  He raised his head to look at the faces around him, daring anyone to question his decision. ‘As I have said, our objective is total destruction of the enemy, much as we have achieved in Russia. We had to use aircraft there, both to destroy the enemy air force and to destroy his transport infrastructure to prevent him moving his people about, either in support or withdrawal. None of those factors applies here. The Partisans have no air force, and they have no reserves, either of men or munitions, on which they can call. And it has been proved that aerial bombardment, while it has on occasion been very destructive of retreating troops and civilian morale, does not necessarily have that effect on entrenched and determined personnel, and we must anticipate that these Partisans will be determined. I am also of the opinion that it would be counter-productive for us to destroy the town – and the civilian population. We need these people working for us, not lying in their graves. Also, the wanton destruction of the civilian population would alienate international opinion. So what we need to do is drive Tito’s people into the open, in disorganised retreat, and then loose our air force on them.

  ‘Now, I personally will command the main assault force, which will consist of the entire First Division and one brigade of the Second Division. We will move out of Belgrade at dawn the day after tomorrow, and advance straight on Uzice. I may say that the enemy has no artillery to speak of either, and thus no means of preventing our advance. There is a good road from Belgrade to Uzice, and I estimate that we will be in position to begin the assault by five o’clock, that is, one hour before dusk. The assault will begin at that time, the moment our infantry have disembarked from their trucks. My estimate is that the enemy will be anticipating that an aerial attack will precede one on the ground, and thus will be taken by surprise if we move straight into action. Now, he may elect to fight for the town, or he may choose to withdraw to his second line. If he does the latter, he is playing into our hands; we will occupy the town, and then bombard his position without fear of civilian casualties. If he fights where he is, well, that is where our pincer movements come in. These will commence their advance at dawn tomorrow, that is, twenty-four hours before the main body. The right will sweep to the north, the left to the south, using the Kragujevac road.’ He looked at the respective brigadiers. ‘You will establish your positions to the right and left rear of Uzice by midday on day two, that is, five hours before our arrival in front of the town. You will wait there, not engaging the enemy, until the frontal assault commences, following which you will destroy any and all enemy units attempting to retreat. Of course, when I say that you will not engage the enemy until the frontal assault commences, should he discover your position and attack you, you will defend yourself with all possible vigour, informing us of the situation by radio. Unless this happens, or unless you encounter unforeseen delays, radio silence will be maintained. Understood? Very good. Any questions?’

  ‘If he stays and fights in the town, what of the civilian population?’

  ‘They will have to take their chances. But we will not deliberately be targeting them.’ He gave a brief smile. ‘As I intend to call on the Partisans to surrender before beginning our attack, if there are civilian casualties the enemy will be blamed for involving them unnecessarily. Yes?’ He pointed.

  ‘Are we to anticipate any resistance from the Cetniks, Herr General?’

  ‘Major Wassermann?’

  ‘No, sir. The Cetniks will not interfere.’

  ‘But when the Partisans retreat – as we must suppose they will at some stage – will they not move back on to Cetnik-held territory, seeking support?’

  ‘It is our assumption, and our intention, that they will do so, Herr Colonel. But they will receive no assistance, and indeed, where it is practical, the Cetniks will block the Partisan retreat to enable us to overtake them.’

  ‘You are saying they intend to fight for us?’

  ‘No, sir. I am saying that they will welcome the destruction of the Partisans. I believe their leaders feel that, with the Partisans out of the way, it may be possible for them to come to some agreement with us.’

  Heads turned to look at Blintoft.
‘Let us dispose of the Partisans first, gentlemen, with or without Cetnik assistance, and then reassess the situation. Anything else?’

  ‘Will you be using the Ustase in any capacity, Herr General?’

  ‘Yes. But strictly to clean up any pockets of resistance which may remain after our assault. They will be under the command of Major Wassermann. Very good, gentlemen. To your posts. Operation Weiss commences at dawn tomorrow. Major Wassermann …’

  Wassermann stood to attention while the other officers left the room. Then he closed the door.

  ‘You know what I want, Fritz,’ Blintoft said.

  ‘You wish Tito, Davis and Fouquet alive, if that is possible.’

  ‘At least one of them. Please do not suppose that this is on account of any personal hatred I may feel for them. I am of the opinion that a show trial of them, or any one of them, for the murder of my wife, followed by their public execution, will do our cause the greatest possible good, not only here in Yugoslavia but throughout the world, to show the world that we mean to uphold the rule of law.’

  Hypocrite, Wassermann thought. Your real desire is to hear them shriek for mercy as I torture them. But he nodded, gravely. ‘You will have them, Herr General. If they survive the battle, you will have them.’

  ‘Good. I am assuming that you have the witnesses – the Brolics and that man Kostic – in a fit condition to appear in court?’

  ‘They will be, Herr General.’

  ‘Well then, let us go home and have a drink, and toast our victory.’

  ***

  The young woman panted, ‘They are coming!’

  ‘What did you see?’ Tony asked. He, and his unusual command, were breakfasting in the low hills to the west of the town of Kragujevac, just over a mile away; beneath them the road, at a similar distance, wound to their left into the hills surrounding Uzice. They had arrived the previous evening after a forced march, and had been resting up, but at dawn Tony had sent out a patrol of a dozen of the youngest and therefore fittest of the women to proceed beyond the town and reconnoitre.

  Now they had hurried back, their corporal flushed with excitement. ‘Truckloads of infantry, sir,’ she said. ‘With tanks in front.’

  ‘Distance?’

  ‘Five miles.’

  Tony stood up and levelled his binoculars. The road stretched out of sight beyond the town, but now he could see dust in the distance. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘A and B Companies, you will enter Kragujevac, and form a perimeter on the north-east. Captain Janitz, you will get hold of the mayor, and tell him to have all his people stay indoors and out of sight, as there will be shooting. You will remain concealed until the bridge is blown, then you will open fire and hold your position until I fire a rocket, when you will withdraw to this position.’ Sasha Janitz nodded, her face determined. ‘C and D Companies,’ Tony said, ‘will cross the road and take cover on the north side. You also will not reveal yourselves until after the bridge is blown, then you will fire into the enemy column, maintaining your attack as long as possible. As soon as the enemy has regrouped, I will fire a second rocket, and you also will then retire in good order, returning to Uzice by the best possible route.’ Draga Dissilivic saluted, and went to assemble her women. ‘E Company will take up their position this side of the road,’ Tony said, ‘with the same orders, except that you will be under my personal command.’ Anja Wroch, tall, thin and hatchet-faced, also saluted, and went off.

  Tony took another sweep of the still empty horizon, and then of the sky. It was a November sky with complete cloud cover, and the clouds were low and black, promising imminent rain. But for the moment it was dry. Rain would not be welcome, because if the ground softened, their withdrawal would leave fairly obvious tracks; on the other hand, the Germans would in any event know they would retreat to Uzice, so it would not matter all that much, except for making the journey more uncomfortable.

  ‘Should we not see the aircraft by now?’ Sandrine asked.

  Tony shook his head. ‘The main body will be some hours back. The bombing won’t commence until they are in position.’ He grinned. ‘If the cloud cover allows them to see us at all. Let’s check these explosives.’

  Sandrine opened the haversack, and very carefully took out the sticks of gelignite. ‘It is ridiculous that the commanding officer should have to lay the explosives himself,’ she complained.

  ‘I’m the only one trained to do it,’ he pointed out, examining each stick for any signs of sweating. ‘Seems all right. Let’s go.’

  They made their way down the tumbled hillside to the ravine, passing as they did so the various members of E Company, lying amidst the boulders and bushes, their rifles thrust forward, while a cluster assembled their machine gun. They all wore the Partisan uniform of blouse and pants and sidecap, and looked surprisingly military, but as their training was of a very recent variety – and they were women – they could not resist the desire to chatter amongst themselves; hopefully they would be in action before the Germans would hear their voices.

  And then? Not one of them had the slightest idea what to expect. But then, neither did he. Over the past few years he had seen sufficient action, both in Flanders, before his first wound, and here, since the start of this local war. He had seen enough people killed or maimed, and he had even watched women being slaughtered, as in Divitsar. But that had been cold-blooded murder; none of those women had been armed, or even attempted to resist the Ustase.

  The only woman he had ever seen die, gun in hand, had been Elena Kostic. That memory haunted him. He had tried to tell himself that was because she had been his mistress. But by the time Elena had died their romance was long over, as they had both known.

  The truth was that, as he had reflected earlier, for all his experiences he retained that absurdly romantic English notion that women were there to be protected, not carelessly killed, or even more carelessly offered to be killed. To which could be added his concern – a concern already voiced by Tito himself – as to how his girls would react to seeing their comrades torn apart by bullets. Would they utter a collective shriek, and run away? Or would they continue to obey orders, and stay in being as a fighting force? Well, he thought, he was about to find out.

  The ravine was some ten yards wide, very deep, and with steep sides. It was as effective a tank trap as anyone could have devised. The bridge itself did not look terribly strong, and would thus be the easier to blow. Carefully Tony climbed into the underneath of the structure, and placed the dynamite inside the joists, increasingly aware of the growing if still distant rumble of sound. Sandrine stood patiently beneath him, handing up each stick as he beckoned for it. For all her characteristic complaining – which she maintained about food, lodging, clothes and weather – she was utterly reliable, because she had such complete faith in him.

  ‘Good enough.’ He attached the wires and climbed down, and they retreated along the ravine and up the bank some fifty feet away, slowly paying out the cable. Sandrine’s job was now to brush stones and pebbles over the wire to conceal it, at least from the casual gaze. Then they returned to the control box, which was in the shelter of a thick clump of bushes some distance away from where E Company was positioned.

  Now the grind of the approaching motors was quite loud. Sandrine blew him a kiss. ‘I feel just as I did in that attic, listening to the train coming,’ she said.

  ‘Let’s hope this one turns out better,’ he said, pushing the first large cartridge into his Verey pistol chamber, and reflecting that any one of his inexperienced command could fire prematurely and give their position away, but at least on this occasion when the enemy replied they would not be shooting at defenceless women.

  It was now nearly noon and surprisingly warm, but, with the sun still absent, he felt he could use his glasses without the risk of some sharp-eyed Nazi officer spotting the glint amidst the supposedly empty hillside.

  Sandrine lay on her back with her eyes closed. ‘It is so peaceful,’ she said. ‘Why do men have to fight?’
<
br />   ‘Because they always want something that belongs to somebody else,’ he suggested, and made out the first truck. ‘Damnation.’

  She sat up, pushing hair from her eyes. ‘They are here?’

  ‘But not in the right order.’

  ‘Let me see.’

  He gave her the glasses. ‘There are tanks,’ she said.

  ‘But preceded by a truck. They are suspicious, possibly of minefields, and certainly of any traps. That means they will inspect the bridge before they allow the tanks to use it.’

  ‘Shit!’

  ‘It isn’t a catastrophe. It means we won’t be able to take any of the panzers in the explosion. But we can still hold them up.’ Anja Wroch had joined them to watch the approaching enemy. ‘Tell your people to stand by,’ Tony said. She nodded, and crawled away.

  Slowly the enemy column approached. First they saw the isolated truck, well out in front. This was followed by a line of six tanks, in single file on the narrow road. Behind them was an even longer line of closed trucks, each no doubt filled with men. They were certainly not anticipating any ambushes, their only concern apparently being possible booby traps or minefields on the road itself.

  The top of the column drew abreast of the little town, which was entered by a slip road, and Tony held his breath; he knew that A and B Companies were in position along that road, and here again a single overexcited shot would ruin his dispositions. But there was none, and the column rumbled forward until the advance truck reached the bridge. Here it stopped, and it seemed to Tony as if the whole world was holding its breath.

  Two men got down from the truck, and walked on to the bridge. Tony glanced at Sandrine, and watched her fingers tighten on the butt of her tommy-gun. To the right he heard the click of Anja’s machine gun being made ready; it sounded deafening, but did not apparently reach the men on the bridge. They turned, as if to walk back to the waiting truck, and Tony’s heartbeat quickened. If they were not going to investigate more closely …