Скачать книгу

station which, like this whole coastline, was a forest of barbed wire and steel stakes.

      The bushes and wire-like grass had been bent double by the wind from the sea. In the lee of the dunes the air was still and the white mist scarcely moved, but the bushes were still deformed and bowed. The only creatures happy to be there were the birds which skimmed low over the bunkers and could breed protected by barbed wire. Even the bird-watchers couldn’t get near them now and five hundred square miles of Northern Europe’s coast had become a vast nature reserve guarded by the Wehrmacht.

      The Citroen’s tyres slid in the soft sand, but the driver insisted upon driving Oberleutnant Bach right to the very door of his quarters. He always did. He opened the door for August and saluted him formally.

      ‘Thank you,’ said August. ‘See my Feldwebel and he will fix you up with some eggs.’ The boy nodded. It was all exactly as it always was, except for one thing. ‘It’s about the Herr Oberst,’ said the driver nervously.

      ‘What about him?’ said August.

      ‘I think the Oberleutnant would like to know that the Herr Oberst has been ordered to join an infantry regiment on the Russian Front: Orel. Many officers have. They go on Thursday. We shall miss the Herr Oberst.’

      ‘So shall I,’ said August. ‘Thank you.’

      The driver saluted again and walked across to get his eggs.

       Chapter Thirteen

      ‘It upset me, Victor, I can tell you that. Couldn’t eat a bite of lunch.’ The Medical Officer shook his head in brief silent anguish. ‘I’ve seen it before, Victor. Exhibitionism.’

      ‘What do you mean?’ asked Löwenherz.

      ‘That surprises you, does it?’ Hans Furth, Kroondijk’s Medical Officer, pointed to a cupboard which contained his bottle of brandy and glasses but Löwenherz declined. ‘With all you fit young men a doctor doesn’t have much of a chance to show his mettle. My job has become that of a psychiatrist.’

      ‘Psychiatry? I thought you disdained that Jewish science, Hans.’

      Hans smiled. ‘Go back as far as Henry the Navigator and you’ll find that navigation is a Jewish science, but that doesn’t mean we can ignore it.’

      ‘If you go back far enough, you’ll probably discover that gravity is a Jewish science,’ said Löwenherz.

      ‘That’s in order. It’s the Luftwaffe’s job to ignore gravity.’ Hans chuckled.

      ‘Himmel, you said, was an exhibitionist,’ said Löwenherz.

      ‘Life is a game for me, Victor. If you sat behind this desk you’d watch the whole panorama of human life pass: tragedy, humour, honour, disgrace, death and injury.’

      ‘And you reported your suspicions to the SIPO?’ persisted Löwenherz.

      ‘Mustn’t get on the wrong side of the law, Victor.’

      ‘But only last week you said you’d never voted for the Nazis and wished Austria had never come under Nazi control.’

      Hans Furth leaned well back in his swivel chair. A plump man in his middle thirties, he was Austrian by birth, doctor by training and airman by conscription. He affected the smart leather zip-front jacket that the flyers liked and many of their youthful mannerisms. His clothes were clean and well pressed and his thick black hair was freshly washed and combed straight back. His face was ruddy, his eyes blue, and his small, unnaturally red, girlish mouth was always ready to talk and smile. He smoked his cigar carefully without spilling the ash anywhere except into the ashtray and he frequently touched his face, running a fingertip along his lips or round his eyes to be sure that everything was in its rightful place. ‘You’re trying to catch me out, Löwenherz Victor,’ he smiled. It was a Viennese affectation to invert the names like that and today Löwenherz found it an irritating one.

      Furth levelled his cigar like a javelin between finger and thumb. ‘I’m a working-class lad, you’re an aristocrat. Our sort gave the Nazis little or no support in the old days, Victor. Their strength came from the middle-class clerks and unemployed ex-officers: fertile ground, Victor.’

      ‘I’m interested in this business with Himmel,’ said Löwenherz, making one more effort to get the conversation back on his intended lines.

      ‘Damned interesting case,’ agreed Hans Furth. ‘I’ve been through his medical dossier again this morning and I think I’ve solved the question to some extent.’ He leaned back like a woman with uncomfortable stays and gave a matronly tug to the bottom of his short jacket.

      ‘How?’ asked Löwenherz.

      Furth leaned forward and lowered his voice. ‘I can’t prove it, but it’s my guess that he’s not racially pure. I was reading in the paper the other day that more Jews commit thefts than Aryans do, by a considerable margin.’

      ‘That sounds very unscientific,’ sighed Löwenherz.

      The doctor smiled at the window as if he shared a secret with the furnishings. ‘My dear Baron, you are hardly in a position to deny the effects of breeding. It took a thousand years of breeding to make you what you are. The Jews …’

      ‘Everyone in the world has a thousand years of breeding behind them,’ said Löwenherz irritably. ‘Perhaps these days Jews have more motive for theft than do Aryans.’

      ‘This is my theory,’ continued Hans Furth. ‘We Germans have been bred as a systematic nation and this fellow Hitler understands us …’

      We Germans, thought Löwenherz, as he listened to the doctor’s sing-song Viennese accent, nibbling the German language like Sachertorte and showing his teeth at every bite.

      ‘… Revolutionize a systematic nation by means of political theory and you have an instrument. Harness the military caste to that instrument and you have a weapon. Allow the politicals to have their own armed forces – the Waffen SS – and create a climate in which they and the military are in constant and dynamic struggle and then your weapon will conquer the world.’

      ‘There’s still a large piece of the world unconquered,’ said Löwenherz.

      ‘I know,’ said Furth, smiling and nodding. ‘It’s fascinating to see what will happen.’

      ‘Like a game of bridge,’ said Löwenherz.

      ‘Better,’ said Furth. ‘Bridge was never half as exciting. My training as a doctor and as an officer has given me a unique chance to become an expert on the German psychology. Do you know, I can tell what sort of symptoms a man will have according to the rank he holds. For instance, no German NCO would dare to come in here complaining of indigestion, just as few officers come to me with foot ailments. Funny folk, we Germans, eh?’

      Yes, thought Löwenherz, and if the Russians get here then this plausible joker will be occupying some comfortable seat in their military administration amusing the occupying power’s officers with these same cynical observations on German character and weakness. And they will be laughing and throwing him an extra box of cigarettes and saying, gay fellows these Austrians.

      ‘I don’t like any sort of unpleasantness, Victor. All I want is to be left alone.’

      ‘And people like Himmel try to involve you?’

      ‘Don’t misunderstand me, I like this fellow Himmel. But this isn’t an important enough matter for you or me to get involved with. He’s an exhibitionist, Victor. Most of the people who get into trouble are exhibitionists.’

      Löwenherz could think of no response. He looked at Furth, who ran his little finger nervously along his eyebrow.

      ‘I didn’t invent the world or any social system in it,’ said the doctor. His smile endorsed this disclaimer.

Скачать книгу