Iron Gustav (24 page)

He looked furiously at the startled girl, went to the door and, unlocking it, glanced back a last time. The chap stood well within reach of his fist, but it was all one to him now.

‘Take care you don't repent this, Evchen,' he said.

Hardly had the old man shut the door when Eugen opened his mouth, of course. Hackendahl had summed him up correctly – he was cruel with the weak but cowardly and cunning with the strong. ‘I don't know what your old man's thinking about! It takes two to live together – someone to go to besides someone who goes.'

She said nothing.

‘You!' he cried threateningly. ‘Didn't you hear me?'

‘Oh yes.'

‘Then answer. Did you think of comin' to me by any chance?'

‘Father thought that.'

‘So
Father thought that, did he? What right has your father to order me about, eh?' He shook her.

‘Eugen, don't! I can't help what Father said. I told him what I thought of him, I told him I didn't want to go back.'

‘Well, what is it you want?' he shouted furiously, shaking her again. ‘D'you want to come to me?'

‘I want what you want, Eugen.'

‘Told him what you thought of him, eh?' Again that furious shaking. ‘But not a word about me not bein' your pimp. You never thought of that, eh?'

‘No, Eugen.'

‘And have I been your pimp?'

‘No, Eugen.'

‘Why didn't you tell him, then?'

Silence. Renewed shaking. ‘I'm askin' you! Out with it!'

‘I don't know, Eugen …'

‘You'd like me to be your pimp, eh?'

‘No! Oh, no!'

‘But you said you wanted what I wanted. An' now I want you to go on the street for me, y'understand?'

‘No!' she begged. ‘Don't ask me that, please, Eugen. Anything you want, but not that.'

‘So you'll do whatever I want! But that's just what you won't do! An' you've got no brains for anythin' else. When I picked you up I thought, fine, you'll do some very smart things with help. But no, no blinkin' good at all – you're just a dumb middle-class girl and you ain't goin' to change.' He looked at her furiously. ‘There he sat, your old man!' he shouted again. ‘He's a cheeky sod. “Move in with me,” he says. Not bloody likely. I'll get a place for you but not with me. No thank you! I don't want your whining mug always hanging round me! Frau Pauli!' he suddenly shouted.

‘I won't do it, Eugen. You can do what you like. I won't do that.'

‘Lor, Herr Bast,' said Frau Pauli. ‘What a row you're kickin' up today. The room next door's engaged – what'll the people think? An' especially you, Herr Bast, who's always such a gentleman! I suppose it's the cabby who upset you.'

‘Cabby!
That was her father! And, jus' imagine, Frau Pauli, she let her old man call me a pimp and never said a word.'

‘That's not right of you, miss. You must know Herr Bast is a real gentleman.'

‘Her? What does she know?' said Eugen Bast contemptuously. ‘Hanging around like a sick cow, that's all she knows. But I'll show her! If she thinks I'm a pimp, she c'n have it like that for all I care. Has old Pirzlau a room free?'

‘Wait a mo, Herr Bast. Jus' let me think. There's Fräulein Koko and Mimi and that Lemke – yes, there's a room free, I think. But, Herr Bast, you know Frau Pirzlau's strict. Her girls must be registered and have a police permit – and go every week to the doctor …'

‘Well, what of it, Frau Pauli? Don't you think our Eva will? Our Eva'll do all that, and Frau Pirzlau won't have any trouble with her about that, will she, Evchen?'

‘I won't do it, Eugen. I'd rather drown myself.'

‘Don't say that, miss. That's a sin,' said Frau Pauli.

Eugen took the old woman by the shoulders. ‘Get out, Frau Pauli,' he said, pushing her from the room. ‘We'll fix this up between ourselves, all this about drowning. No, I won't make a row, I'll be as soft as soap. I'm like that, I don't beat girls, do I, Evchen?'

The woman had gone and they were alone. No, there was no row – only sobbing and tears – and tears meant nothing in such a house. No other sound.

Eva felt as if she were oppressed by a nightmare from which she ought to wake up and yet could not – a bad dream, ever darker, ever more desolate – the place across the road, the negotiations with Frau Pirzlau, the other girls who treated it as a joke and were put in a good humour by the new arrival, whom they laughingly rigged out.

And then, standing at the corner of the Lange and the Andreas Strasse. Standing there in torment, knowing that his eyes were on her. It had started to snow and the men were in a great hurry. They were all in a hurry as they passed the woman who was so ridiculously got up in a feather boa dyed green and a large hat trimmed with feathers …

Then the shrill pimp's whistle from the doorway – the signal to accost some man who seemed all right to Eugen. And his sudden
appearance, his blows because she hadn't accosted the man after all. And his blows when she did accost someone but unsuccessfully. And her feeble attempt to run away, whereupon he fetches her back, almost breaking her arm …

And how in the end she succeeded and took a man to her room, with the other girls poking their heads round the doors and nodding encouragement. And how repulsive life was. Everything, yes, everything one had ever learned about cleanliness and purity a lie. And how she must go back to her corner right away …

And how in the evening she was involved in a quarrel with another girl who claimed that corner as her own, and how Eugen thrashed the other girl this time … with people hurrying by indifferently – life going on and nothing really changed … And how the other girl came back with her fellow – it was dark by now – and Eugen getting into a quarrel with him. And how she wandered away slowly, away round the corner … And, once she was safely round the corner, she ran. Ran on and on, into the town.

She had to make haste – he might be following. In her conspicuous finery she passed a hundred policemen and fifteen of the special branch but none noticed her, for she had a goal to reach …

She entered the dark Tiergarten and, to start off with, threw the hat and feather boa behind a bush. Quieter now, she went hurrying down the Bendlerstrasse until she arrived at the Königin-Augusta-Ufer. This was her goal.

She sat down on a wet seat under a leafless chestnut. What an impression a successful song can make! She had come all this way when it was only five minutes' walk from the Lange Strasse to the River Spree. But the whole afternoon that song had haunted her. ‘In the Landwehr Canal there floats a corpse …'

The words had not seemed to her at all ghastly or horrible, but rather ordinary. In the Landwehr Canal there floats a corpse. It often happened and people were singing about it, laughingly. Not horrible – only needing a little courage …

That was why she had hurried so. This was the Landwehr Canal they had made the song about.

She sat there for a long time. At last she stood up – it was not so easy now. Already she was conscious of reluctance. And her
reluctance increased as she went down the dark passage to the river, where she could hear a chill splashing, as if rats swam there. Yet surely a corpse ought to be indifferent to rats. Nevertheless she descended more and more hesitantly. But, however hesitant her progress, at last she came to the bottom step.

She was standing on a small brick platform. The water was high, almost lapping her feet. She bent down. She couldn't see the water, only the reflections from the lights on the bridge. Now is the moment to fall in, she thought.

But she did not let herself fall. Frightened, she drew back from the darkness which gurgled below her feet, and stood there, waiting.

People were passing over the bridge but nobody saw her, nobody shouted ‘Help, help! She wants to drown herself', which would have given her strength to make the leap she was frightened of. To make the leap with the expectation of being saved.

And when, after a long wait, she tested the water with her foot and felt the icy cold seep into her shoe, all was decided. She could not.

Slowly she went back up the steps. Previously she had hurried, had been almost happy, for she was parting from life – life was over. But that dream was ended. Now she was returning, broken. Nothing had changed, life flowed on without end. Slowly she walked through the dark Tiergarten, through the dark town. Only at the approach of dawn dared she go into the more familiar places. He would be asleep now … And at last she had slunk to Gertrud Gudde, of whom he knew nothing. There, perhaps, she would be allowed to stay in safety. She was allowed. ‘Gladly,' Gertrud Gudde had said, returning from the butcher's.

While Gertrud Gudde talked to Eva, undressed the half-frozen woman and laid her in her still almost warm bed, and while Eva Hackendahl's despair dissolved into uncontrollable tears, and while both women discussed how they were going to live together, police registration, moving things and ration cards – while all that was
going on, Corporal Hackendahl lay in a shell hole between the French and German lines. The shell hole was quite close to the French – not more than thirty metres away – but thank heavens it was so deep that the enemy couldn't see him. The German trenches were about a hundred and twenty metres distant, and that was bad, because he wanted to return to the German lines, and couldn't do so before nightfall.

Otto Hackendahl, if it were a consolation, had the consolation that he was not alone – a second man lay there, a Lieutenant von Ramin. They had met here for the first time. The lieutenant was attached to a company which had assisted Otto's regiment in an attack; this attack had been repulsed and only by crawling into the nearest shell hole had the lieutenant and Otto been able to avoid being taken prisoner. And then an infernal barrage had broken loose, thus making a return to their own positions impossible. Day broke …

A bitterly cold day, the sky obscured by low-hanging clouds. Thank God, thought Otto. Not aeroplane weather, anyway.

Lying there, he could see only the sky and the pit they were in. It was not advisable to look over the edge – they fired pretty smartly from both trenches. Now and again he heard a word of command from the French side, and sometimes someone laughed. It's easy for them to laugh, thought Otto. I feel damned cold. And I'll be colder still by the evening.

To distract himself he listened to the firing, which had reawakened with dawn. Slowly the artillery got into its stride. There was a loud report. Our mortars starting! Sometimes only the field guns were to be heard, but for the moment they weren't working in his direction. Let's hope we'll leave the French in peace for a bit today. We're properly in the trap, the officer and I …

He looked towards the lieutenant, who lay curled up at the bottom of the crater, reading old letters. Sensing Otto's gaze he lifted his head and asked: ‘Well, Corporal, what are you thinking of?' He had a cheerful, open face and Otto liked his way of speaking.

‘I'm thinking, Herr Lieutenant, it would be a good thing if the trench over there didn't get peppered today.'

‘I
don't believe there'll be much happening,' said the lieutenant. ‘Both sides got their bellyful last night. Are you damned cold, too?' he enquired with great feeling.

‘Terrible! My boots are absolutely rotten. I haven't had my feet dry for weeks.'

‘My boots are sound, but my feet are like ice just the same,' said the lieutenant. ‘Got anything to drink, Corporal?'

‘Yes, Herr Lieutenant, my flask's half full of cherry brandy. But I thought we'd better save it for later on – we won't be getting away before night. And a stimulant will come in handy then.'

‘Before night! You saw how bright the moon was – and then these damned Verey lights. I'm not so sure we shall get away tonight at all.'

‘It looks like snow,' said Otto hopefully.

‘Snow!' The lieutenant was contemptuous. ‘It's been looking like snow for days. But who can say when it's really going to snow in a damned winter like this one. No, no, Corporal, you save up your cherry brandy for later. Don't worry about me, I've got some schnapps.'

‘Yes, Herr Lieutenant, that'll warm you.'

Otto, listening to the shelling, tried to guess the calibres, the trajectories, the position of the guns. Nothing calmed you so much when you felt nervous or anxious. You forced yourself to concentrate and thereby almost forgot the anxiety about yourself. Now and then he heard conversation in the French trenches; they seemed to be quite cheerful in spite of the recent attack.

‘Swine!' said Lieutenant von Ramin suddenly, quite loud. ‘Did you hear that, Corporal? One of them's got some hot coffee. What damned beastliness to tell us about it too.'

‘We usually make our coffee about this time,' said Otto.

‘Yes,' said the lieutenant, almost laughing. ‘When you're in the trenches you curse 'em and wait only for the moment to get out. And now we're both heartily longing for a damp, louse-ridden dugout.'

‘You never know when you're well off,' agreed Otto, ‘till you're worse off.'

‘True. But I'd rather put it this way – however badly off you are you can always be worse off. How long have you been in it, Corporal?'

‘From
the beginning. The very first day, Herr Lieutenant.'

‘You were lucky, then. You went through the first enthusiasm, the advance. I came straight from school into the trenches. All the bloody mud in bloody Champagne. You ever been there, Corporal?'

‘Yes, at Dormoise Valley, Herr Lieutenant.'

‘Why, man, we were there too. So you can guess how a boy felt, chock-full of enthusiasm and high-falutin ideas, straight from his school desk into mud and filth and lice. And the men so irritable and depressed …'