Castle to Castle (25 page)

Bridou
°
finished pissing . . . he shook it . . . thoroughly! and then he said: "Gentlemen, we must act!" Act how? He came out with his idea . . . "We must scatter!" . . . the cavalry principle . . . "dispersed order" . . . how many of us were there under the arch, piled up against the abutment? . . . about thirty . . . I saw that Bridou was right . . . the bombs were coming closer . . . and closer . . . they'd be hitting the bridge pretty soon . . . after all . . . such incompetence was too good to last . . . but the whole group was very hesitant . . . ministers, party chiefs, Franco-Boche cops . . . no enthusiasm about "dispersed order" . . . of course, we could follow the Russians . . . the dragass prisoners . . . sure! they must be going someplace . . . must have some idea? . . . they hadn't said a word . . . across the fields . . . follow the prisoners . . . Here there's one little detail . . . Madame Rémusat and her daughter were lying in the muck, flat on their bellies in the muck . . . along the shore . . . a bomb crater . . . they'd come to pick dandelions . . . they were all covered with mud! . . . a thick layer . . . they must have been scared, scared . . . they didn't move . . . dead or not? . . . maybe. Anyway, they were flat on their bellies . . . I never heard of them again . . . they lived at the other end of town . . . I've told you, the Russian prisoners and their
Landsturm
guards were moving away through the fields . . . they hadn't even looked at us . . . the bombs were falling not far from them . . . so tired, sleepwalking, they look as if they couldn't stop . . . the bombs were falling all around them, almost on top of them . . . and us! hell! . . . a merry-go-round in the air! . . . you didn't have to be a magician to know what they were after . . . the bridge . . . that carried the whole Ulm-Rumania traffic . . . to bash it in . . . with us underneath . . . Pétain and his procession! Lovely! They'd aim right in the end . . . the whole bridge on our noodles, oh, the junk and guts of it, Madame! . . . stubborn bunglers! . . . waterspouts! . . . I looked at Madame Remusat and her daughter, come to pick dandelions . . . flat on their bellies . . . the ministers pulled up their pants . . . they all talked at once . . . some were pro . . . some were con . . . to keep on? together? . . . to take the other bank . . . the generals and admirals were for dispersing . . . or single file? catch up with the Russian prisoners? through the alfalfa? if we stayed there, one thing was sure, we'd get the bridge on our heads! the whole thing! their bombs were practically bursting on top of us! the whole Danube was full of them . . . upstream . . . downstream . . . they rectified . . . geysers of muck! coming down by the carload in front of us . . . enormous craters in the bank! . . .
wham! plop!
. . . the blast squeezed us against the abutment . . . ministers, generals and guards . . . and me and Lili and Bébert . . . At that really dramatic moment Pétain, who hadn't said anything yet, spoke up . . . "Forward!" We should all get out from under that arch and follow him! "Forward!" . . . They should all button their pants and "Forward!" . . . himself and Debeney emerged! oh, without haste . . . very very dignified! direction: the Castle . . . so there we were strung out again . . . all the ministers and the party chiefs . . . the bombs kept attacking the bridge . . . we, the rest of us, tagged along . . . and all the way to the Castle . . . one burst after another . . . machine-gun fire . . . they were firing at us all right . . . but wild . . . I could see the bullets ricocheting . . . in the grass . . . in the water . . . I could see the grass tumbling . . . cropped short . . . they were lousy shots . . . the proof is that nobody was hit . . . and they were skimming the river . . . Pétain was talking with Debeney . . . both striding along, no hurry at all . . . same with the ministers . . . at least a mile and a half . . . the line hadn't deviated an inch . . . I can still see Bichelonne ahead of us . . . limping badly . . . that was before his operation, he insisted on being operated in Hohenly-chen, up there in East Prussia, I'll tell you about it . . . right now I'm on Pétain . . . the return to the Castle . . . the Chief in the lead . . I under the bursts of machine-gun fire . . . and the whole straggling line of ministers, generals, admirals . . . pants buttoned, clothes in order . . . all very dignified . . . and keeping their distances . . . If I seem to be going on about Pétain, it's because of the story that he'd gone so gaga he couldn't hear the bombs or the sirens, that he couldn't tell the Kraut soldiers from his own guards from Vichy . . . and mistook Brinon for the nuncio . . . I want to set things straight . . . I can be fair, because he really hated my guts . . . and you can take it from me that if he hadn't taken command there at the bridge, if he hadn't got that procession started, nobody would have come out alive! there would never have been any High Court! . . . or Noguarès either! I can say that I saw the Marshal save the High Court! . . . if not for him and his cool head, nobody would have got out from under that arch! . . . not one minister, not one general! or the people in the bushes! it would have been all over! no indictment! no verdict! absolute hash! no need for the Ile d'Yeu either! . . . it was Pétain's firmness that made everybody come out from under that arch! . . . same as it was Pétain's character that got the army to the front in '17 . . . I can speak without prejudice, he detested me . . . I can still see the bullets all around us . . . the bank, the towpath riddled . . . especially around Pétain . . . and he could see if he couldn't hear! . . . all the way to the drawbridge! . . . burst after burst! . . . ah, and not a word out of him! . . . or Debeney either . . . perfectly dignified! . . . and the funniest part of it, nobody hit! . . . neither Lili, nor myself, nor Bébert, nor Marion! . . . at the drawbridge, halt! good-bye! . . . everybody on his own! nobody waited! everybody went home! . . . the R.A.F. had stopped shooting . . . gone back upstairs . . . we . . . Lili, Bébert, and I . . . said good-bye to Marion . . . but I had four rolls in my pocket! . . .

My consultation! . . . it was time! . . . on the second floor of the
Löwen
, No. 11, our hovel . . . and when I say hovel, I don't mean palace! two beds . . . some beds! . . . though I've seen worse . . . a lot worse . . . We give Marion another good-bye . . . we embrace . . . we weren't sure we'd ever see him again . . . he had his room on the fourth floor . . . the smallest of the lot! . , . I've told you . . . Information was rock bottom in the protocol . . . with Dagobert at Clichy-sur-Seine, for instance, Marion wouldn't even have rated a chair . . . if you don't want to go wrong, always remember Saint Eloi! . . . imposture began in the year 1000! that's when the flimflam began to take over . . . Excellencies right and left . . . puppets! No real hierarchy! . . . well, to get back to serious things, there was no flimflam about my consultation . . . that was serious! . . . I'll tell you about our setup . . . you can go and see for yourself . . . I've read a lot of stories about Siegmaringen . . . all balloon juice or ax grinding . . . phonies, all frauds and fakers . . . Christ! . . . they weren't there . . . not a one of them . . . at the time they should have been . . . If I have a lot to say about toilets . . . especially in the
Löwen
. . . it's because we were on the same landing, across the hall, and it was always full! the whole population of Siegmaringen, the beer hall, the hotels, ended up there, couldn't help it . . . across from us . . . the whole upstairs lobby and the stairs were jam-packed, day and night, with people who couldn't hold it any more, cursing, griping that it was a disgrace . . . that they'd suffered enough . . . and they were going to do it right there! . . . which was God's truth . . . the whole staircase was a river . . . and naturally our corridor! . . . and our room! You can't conceive of anything more laxative than the
Stamgericht
, kohlrabi and red cabbage . . . the
Stamgericht
plus the sour beer . . . to keep you in the toilet for life! . . . so you can imagine our lobby . . . the cursing and farting of the people who couldn't hold it in . . . and the smell . . . the bowl overflowed! . . . what can you expect! it was always plugged . . . people went in three . . . four at a time . . . men, women, children . . . every which way . . . they had to be dragged out by the feet, by main force . . . hogging the crapper . . . "They're dreaming! They're dreaming!" the outsiders bellowed . . . in the corridor, in the beer hall, in the street . . . and everybody scratching in addition . . . exchanging their scabies and crabs! . . . and my patients! . . . mixed in . . . naturally they went out and pissed on the others . . . and all over . . . Our corridor was really alive! . . . I haven't mentioned the people that came to see von Raumnitz . . . I'll tell you about von Raumnitz . . . another mob, headed for his office, one of his offices, on the floor above . . . they went to the crapper across the hall, too . . . the most bewitching moment every day was when the crapper really couldn't hold any more . . . about eight o'clock at night . . . full to bursting . . . a shit bomb! . . . the great overflow from the bottom of the bottom! . . . the whole beer hall relieving itself . . . the hallway was a geyser! . . . and our room! . . . a waterfall down the stairs! . . . the devil take the hindmost! . . . catch-as-catch-can in shit! . . . that was when Herr Frucht arrived! the manager of the
Löwen!
Herr Frucht and his bamboo pole! . . . he'd really done everything in his power to save his shit-can . . . but actually he was responsible . . . he ran the joint . . . the kohlrabi stew . . . the beer hall, the restaurant . . . five thousand
Stamgerichts
a day! . . . no wonder the thing overflowed! So Herr Frucht came up with his bamboo pole! he poked and stirred! . . . got the thing working again! . . . and put on a fresh padlock . . . tightened the screws! . . . to keep everybody out! and that's that! Two minutes after he'd gone his crapper was full again! people fighting to get in . . . all over the lobby! . . . Herr Frucht wasn't Sisyphus . . . he could swear his fool head off:
"Teufel! Donner! Maria!"
His
Stamgericht
customers would have flooded his joint, submerged it in torrents of kohlrabi! if he'd really closed his crapper, if he'd really kept everybody out! and cemented the hole! . . . he threatened to, but he didn't dare . . .

Anyway, we in No. 11 were wading! Enough said . . . you get used to it, we had to . . . what was more to be feared, worse than this little inconvenience, was that we'd be put out! . . . thrown out . . . Boche style . . . the mealymouthed, reasonable way . . . "in the interest of the general welfare!" . . . better for my patients if I moved . . . give my consultations somewhere else . . . etc. etc. . . . too much confusion . . . all sorts of reasons why I should vacate . . . rumors? rumors? . . . worse things have happened to me! . . . take my word for it!

Let me explain about this big lobby (the ceiling, I should add, was very low) . . . There wasn't just my office . . . and the candidates for the shithouse . . . but also the people who came to see von Raumnitz . . . Baron Major von Raumnitz . . . the room directly over ours . . . No. 26 . . . I'll come back to this von Raumnitz . . . I'm digressing again . . . dragging you around like this I'll lose you . . . I want to show you too much at once . . . I've got an excuse . . . I'm in kind of a hurry . . . So we left the Marshal . . . the drawbridge came down . . . we went up to the
Löwen 
. . . I'll clear the way for you! . . . got to! . . . first the mob on the sidewalk . . . then in the lobby . . . the crowd of people wanting to pee . . . they're all over the place . . . I push them aside . . . and I knock on our door! No. 11, our pad . . .

It takes a lot to surprise me, but this time I really look twice! . . . on my own bed, the one on the right, a man stretched out, all disheveled and unbuttoned, puking and gasping . . . and on top of him, straddling him . . . a surgeon! . . . well anyway a man in a white smock getting ready to operate on him . . . forcibly! . . . three, four scalpels in his hand . . . head-mirror, compresses, forceps! . . . no possible doubt! Behind him, up to her ankles in sludge and urine, his nurse . . . in a white smock, too . . . with big white metal boxes under her arm . . .

"What are you doing?"

I ask them . . . it's my right! And besides the guy underneath is bellowing.

"Doctor, doctor, save me!"

"From what? From what?"

"It's you I came to see, Doctor! The Senegalese! The Senegalese!"

"What about them?"

"They've cut everybody's head off."

"But he's not a Senegalese."

"He's starting with the ear! . . . it's you I wanted to see, Doctor!"

"But he's not a Senegalese, is he?"

"No . . . no . . . he's a lunatic!"

"And where do you come from?"

"From Strasbourg, Doctor. I've got a garage in Strasbourg! They cut everybody's head off . . . they're coming . . . they're coming! I've got a garage! I'm thirsty, Doctor! . . . make him get off, Doctor! he's choking me! . . . he's going to stick his knife in my eye! . . . make him get off, Doctor!"

Quite a situation . . . this character with his scalpels, crazy or not, it would really be best if the police came and asked him for his papers right away . . . and threw everybody out of here! . . . all the people from the street were pouring into my room! into the corridor and the crapper, and here this nut and his nurse! . . . I'd never be able to put them all out by myself! . . . the room was cramped enough just with you and the washbasin and the two sacks . . . you couldn't move . . . and now this crowd!

In questions of order, Brinon was the man . . . I was responsible to him . . . he was the one to go to . . . it was up to him to notify the police! one of the police forces . . . tell them there was a riot in the
Löwen
, the crapper and the corridor! In rough situations, I don't let the grass grow under my feet . . . the insane surgeon, this fellow under him . . . bellowing! . . . no time to shillyshally! Lili had already put Bébert in her bag . . . she never went out without him . . . she'd wait for me at Madame Mitre's . . . I'd go see Brinon alone . . . Madame Mitre directed the administration . . . really a big-hearted woman and full of tact . . . you could talk to her . . . it was she who was supposed to answer the questions of the ten thousand . . . this and that . . . a hundred thousand complaints a day! . . . you can imagine if these 1,142 "wanted" complained! and the women and the children! about everything! and the "workers in Germany" and the forty-six varieties of spies! and the wholesale denunciations! . . . that this one . . . and that one . . . should be arrested! . . . and Laval! . . . and Bridoux! . . . quick! . . . and Brinon! . . . and myself! and Bébert! ah, exile, cauldron of denunciation! bubble bubble! . . . What it must have been like in London! . . . ten years in London, and not a single one of them would have come back . . . all hanged . . . millions of denunciations! . . . especially the ones condemned to death! the measliest little candle blinking at you from an attic! . . . don't beat your brains out! . . . it's So-and-so, condemned to death, sweating and trembling and scribbling a thousand thousand horrors about some other stinking pariah candidate for the torture chamber! denouncing him to the Krauts! to Bibici! to Hitler! to the Devil! ah, Tartre is nothing but a puerile snotnose failure! . . . these were real, deep-dyed informers! their heads practically under the blade! the conditions you find once in a century! . . . hats off! . . . plots? whole shovelfuls! the
Milice
. . . the
Fidelis
. . . full of them! . . . the Intelligence Service everywhere! four transmitting sets reporting everything that went on night and day . . . you could hear them perfectly right there at the
Prinzenbau
(our town hall)! . . . our last names . . . first names . . . actions . . . gestures . . . intentions . . . minute by minute . . . twelve-dozen dyed-in-the-wool concierges, yack-boxes, laundresses latching on to our balls wouldn't have done a better job, spread worse gossip . . . We knew! . . . but life is impulse, you've got to pretend to believe in it . . . as if nothing were wrong . . . carry on! carry on! Myself now at No. 11, I had to see my twenty-five . . . fifty patients . . . give them what I couldn't . . . sulphur ointment that never came . . . gonacrine, the penicillin that Bichter was supposed to be getting a shipment of . . . and never did! life is impulse! . . . and keeping your mouth shut! . . . one time later, I practiced medicine in Bostock on the Baltic with a colleague, Dr. Proséidon, who had just come back from the Paradise of the East . . . he'd built up the habit . . . the face you need in states that really mean business . . . the expression of a man who'll never think again . . . or anything else! . . . "Even if you don't say a word, they can see! . . . Get in the habit of not thinking anything!" My admirable colleague! What's become of him? . . . he saw Paradise everywhere! "If Hitler falls, you won't escape it!" Those were the words of a big intellectual: "Europe will be republican or Cossack!" . . . Hell, it will be both! and Chinese!