Rigadoon (9 page)

We listen . . . he talks in a booming whisper . . .

"The French government has left Vichy . . ."

"No!"

"Falling back on Sigmaringen° . . ."

There he's got to explain . . . Sigmaringen? in Germany? . . . certainly! . . . in Germany! but way in the south! . . . near the Swiss border! . . .

I see Le Vig change color . . . he's been pale, practically in a faint . . . now he flushes purple . . .

"Ah, Ferdie! . . . Ferdie! saved!"

He's shouting . . .

"Not so loud, Le Vig! we'll see when we get there!"

"We leaving? When?"

"Yes! . . . yes!"

Le Vig is out of control. . .

"Say . . . we'll be going home . . . to France!"

Me lying down, him on his feet, I can't see him very well . . . the room's dark . . . but I hear him all right . . . Kracht and Harras light us up . . . he's jumping up and down . . . in between the bodies . . . this way . . . that way . . . stepping over them . . . he's out of his nightmare now . . . he sees himself in Switzerland . . . practically home in Montmartre . . .

I calm him down.

"Le Vig, pal, it's not over yet! Listen to Dr. Harras! . . . stop shouting! this place is full of stoolies! they're all over! Didn't you know that? . . ."

Harras interrupts me . . . he takes a rubber stamp out of his pocket . . .

"Here! . . . Look!"

We examine it . . . no more
Reichsgesund
. . .

"An army order to Sigmaringen! . . . more like it, don't you think?"

He's not in a joking mood, it seems to me . . . he warns me . . . the hardest part will be Berlin . . .

"Bad shape there . . . everybody at the station, you'll see . . . not just refugees . . . soldiers! millions! . . . bound for Ulm, for the south . . . you know the
Anhalt
station? . . ."

Certainly! . . . our fish train would stop outside Berlin . . . we'd get out . . . and walk to
Anhalt
with our two guards, they knew the way . . .

"Certainly! . . . certainly!"

As long as we get there!

I hand him our papers, so does Le Vig . . . that beautiful
Reichsbevoll
stamp isn't good enough, not any more, we need the O.K.W. . . .
Oberkommando der Wehrmacht
. . . Army High Command . . . Harras adds in his own hand:
"Wehrmacht befehl! Sigmaringen"
. . . seems to me we're all set . . . but what about tickets? . . . everything seems to be free around here!

"You'll pay later! later!"

The debts we'll have! and to tell the truth I found out . . . later! . . . that the end is not in sight! . . .

Right now it's our papers . . . he gives them back! I shove them into my pocket! . . . including Le Vig's visas, he wants it that way . . . but that's not all! . . . one more formality! . . . he's got to notify Berlin . . . the Foreign Office and Chancellery . . . and all the lines are cut . . . underground . . . above ground . . . as fast as they can repair them . . . I knew that already . . . pretty good idea who it was . . . they'd arrested a hundred suspects . . . they could arrest a thousand for all the good! . . . the
Wehrmacht
technicians had developed a system of cyclo-magneto transmission that nobody could sabotage . . . I go out and look . . . we all go . . . good grief! . . . Kracht's bike mounted on top of a sleigh! . . . did I know that bike! . . . Kracht, the intrepid cyclist! . . . but here now his bike was attached . . . welded and riveted . . . and the back wheel was hitched to a transmission belt that drove a. generator . . . Kracht gets up on the seat, and pedals! . . . and pedals! . . . I get it . . . he's making electricity . . . atta boy! . . . the long antenna up front transmits! and receives too! . . . a two-way antenna . . . Harras explains . . . only Kracht had better not weaken!

"Noch! noch!
. . . harder! harder!"

Harras is looking for Berlin . . . transmitting . . . he shows me his little set. . . tiny . . . hollow of your hand . . . and waits for Berlin to answer . . . Harras has his helmet on . . . he listens . . . got 'em! . . . didn't take long . . .

"I'm notifying them of your arrival . . . indispensable!"

All right with me! . . .
dot . . . dot . . . dash!

I see he's learned telegraphy . . . Kracht up there on his bicycle isn't having much fun . . .

"Noch! . . . noch! . . . Kracht!
. . . keep it up!"

Kracht is knocking himself out! . . . running the generator! no fits and starts! . . . it's got to be steady! . . . or the antenna stutters! . . . stop! . . . finished transmitting! . . . kind of sudden! . . . now to receive! the reception is more ticklish! . . . Kracht has to pedal in the other direction . . . backwards! . . . that's the spirit! . . . lucky Kracht has kept in training . . .

"Gut! Kracht! Gut!"

You can actually see the antenna, the crackling . . . Harras hears . . . he hears Berlin . . . he hears the Chancellery . . .

"It's okay, Destouches! Granted! . . .
ja!
. . .
ja!
. . . you can go! . . . just a second now! . . .
noch! noch, Kracht! Stettin!
. . . got to notify Stettin!. . . they've got to know!"

Right . . . . our Greek colleague and his lepers and his nun . . . I'd forgotten them! . . . twelve blood-and-pus cases . . . maybe fifteen . . . a whole sleighload . . . two sleighs . . . Stettin doesn't answer! Kracht gives it everything he's got! No soap! . . . oh well, they won't get lost! . . . there's only one road to Stettin . . . very well marked and guarded . . . and maintained . . . I see . . . a snow plow every mile . . . all the Berlin-Stettin traffic, civilian, military, refugees . . . takes that road . . . Moorsburg-Baltic too . . . Harras had told me about those little Tartar horses . . . special for sleighs . . . I see them there, ready harnessed . . . all shaggy and bearded . . . but to tell the truth they look more like children's ponies than far-north teams . . . snow trotters . . . they've all come from Stettin . . . they'll find their way all right! . . . Harras gives up . . . Stettin is still deaf . . . anyway Kracht is all in . . . his tongue's hanging out . . . our antenna stops crackling . . .

"Noch! noch!"

It's no use . . .

"Nun! nun! lasse!
Never mind, forget it!"

Kracht flops down off the seat . . . he lies down in the snow . . . dead to the world . . . the intrepid cyclist! . . . we leave him, we go see the others . . . all ready to leave . . . the Sister has changed their dressings . . . not a stump showing, everything covered with gauze and cotton and bandage . . . all swaddled, heads, bodies, legs, you'd think they were masquerading as Tuaregs . . . and so happy! . . . I guess the sleigh appeals to them, and going so far . . . and having their Sister back again . . . they won't be going fast . . . five days to Stettin, so they say . . . a soldier leads both teams . . . two horses . . . by the bit . . . on foot and armed, hand grenades and carbine . . . I see they've got this thing organized . . . relay stations all along, so it seems . . . up there in Stettin the depot . . . and the leper hospital . . . not in the city itself, the last village . . . our Proseïdon, I can see, isn't enthusiastic . . . he doesn't protest, but he'd rather stay with us . . . he's had ten years of sleighs, he knows . . . and lepers . . . he'd be glad to go with us, any direction, especially south! . . . but his travel orders say Stettin! . . . he's not protesting, but he's pretty glum in his way . . . I mean, even more retiring than usual . . . he lines up his lepers and leads them to the sleighs . . . he helps them in, the Sister too, they're all nicely seated: good-bye! he says . . . and we answer:
au revoir!
. . .
au revoir!
. . . the two sleighs jolt . . . and slide . . . they're off! . . . the road . . . it'll take them at least four days . . . they're not waving . . . neither the lepers nor the Sister nor Proseïdon . . .

Fact is, we never saw them again . . . or heard any news . . . of them or the leper hospital . . . or of Stettin . . . I've asked here and there . . . people who said they'd been there . . . seems that towns and villages have changed their names . . . and the inhabitants have gone away . . . I'd have to go see . . . fat chance!

So the three of us, Lili, me, and Le Vig, get back in our "fish train" . . . same compartment . . . our two soldiers haven't budged, they're waiting for us . . . Harras fills us in some more . . .

"You'll have to walk a way, half an hour, from the locomotive depot to the
Anhalt
station . . . the two soldiers will stay with you."

"Splendid, dear Harras! . . . God help us! . . . and
heil Hitler!"

We shake hands, hard . . . he kisses Lili . . . he kisses Bébert . . . and there we are! . . . yes, we're kind of sad underneath . . . a feeling that we won't be seeing each other in a hurry . . . Kracht full length in the snow panting . . . panting . . . he looks at us . . .

"Good-bye, Kracht!"

"Heil! heil! Doktor!"

He's been a good egg too . . . mean . . . yes, he had to be! . . . we're sorry to leave him . . . wonder what's become of him . . . we knew him well. . .

Oh, but our "fish train" is moving . . . never expected it! . . .
choo! choo!
skidding . . . let's go! another good-bye to Harras . . . and Kracht . . . that's all . . . I never saw them again . . . nor Proseïdon, nor the Sister, nor whozis up there, the Nietzschean of Rostock . . . nor his natural selections . . . in the Superjets people don't lose one another, three hours to New York and hell's bells all together . . . it's in improvised travel that you've got to watch out, that people disappear for no reason at all, it's a wonder if you even remember them, look at the time I'm having trying to prove that these people were really alive and kicking, pity the poor chronicler!

The train takes us away . . . first gently . . . then not so gently . . . all the same, these tracks are better . . . piles of stones, they're making repairs . . . we've settled down, very quietly . . . got some thinking to do . . . no more Harras, no more Kracht . . . got to shift for ourselves . . . not a peep out of our two soldiers . . . we'll see at that station . . . the one before Berlin . . . a few planes in the air . . . but they're not bothering about us . . . we pass . . . without stopping . . . shacks, stations, warehouses . . . our two soldiers aren't talking to us . . . must be their orders . . . with Harras they talked . . . our train's been running about three hours now . . . they've blown the whistle . . . maybe at every station . . . ah, here we are! . . . a platform . . . this must be it! . . . the older of the two Krauts motions to us . . . yes! . . . yes! . . . okay! . . . we get out . . . a path along the tracks . . . Indian file . . . not bad going, but is it far to this
Anhalt
station? . . . I ask him . . .
"ach, nein! nein!"
. . . right . . . we come to some shacks, a suburb . . . pretty badly beat up this suburb . . . very badly in fact! rubble . . . smoking . . . anyway, two houses out of three . . . I guess they're used to it, two houses out of three . . . so here we go in single file! . . . ah, we're getting there, I recognize it . . . the
Anhalt
station . . . those platforms, the little squares of cement! . . . only the metal's a lot more twisted than last time, I mean up top, the glass roof, the giant vault . . . chunks of it keep falling down . . .
crash! plunk!
. . . never stops . . . a shower of glass on the platforms and the people . . . and the train all covered with ricocheted glass . . . plenty of people though! . . . our platform . . . the southbound express is full up already . . . like the Rostock shuttle . . . except this one's got real cars, tall and wide . . . but the people are jammed in as tight as on the Rostock . . . all standing up . . . we're pretty skinny, super-compressible . . . but we'd never squeeze in . . . we do the whole platform and back again . . . ah, there's a car that doesn't look so full . . . we wonder . . . we're not the only ones, there's a whole crowd wondering if maybe . . . there wouldn't be room for one . . . for two . . . all kinds of soldiers in helmets, in bérets, women, children . . . no! . . . no room! that does it! all hell breaks loose! . . . yelling and screaming! . . . they grab hold of everything! . . . I see some
feldgraus
inside, all excited . . . running all along the corridor . . . trying to make them let go of the windows . . . pleading, commanding . . . go fuck yourself! . . . explaining that this is a special car,
sonderzug Wehrmacht
, can't they see the plaque . . . the eagle! . . . and the flag up at the end? . . . do they answer! . . . volleys of insults! . . . horrible threats! them and their O.K.W. plaque! they rip it off the side of the car, they take it away . . . that could have gone on a long time . . .

Crrash!
. . . and
pht!
. . . like an explosion! . . . it's one of the big windows of the car . . . smithereens! . . . a brick! . . . another! . . . another window! . . . and the glass in the door at the end! . . . they open it, they've got the handle! . . . they charge in, the whole howling mob! a lot of people brag about seeing the German anarchy, it's a lie, they weren't there, we were there and not for the fun of it . . . I've seen a lot of things, but the nihilist fury in Germany, that's something you'll never forget . . . all those malcontents and their kids and babes in arms charging that
Wehrmacht
Pullman . . . pushing and shoving, the whole car! all scrambled . . . officers in pajamas, soldiers, babies, mothers . . . wrestling! . . . the whole corridor! the berths are all taken! . . . the fathers climb up too, they all pour in . . . pretty soon they'll be crushed worse than in our Rostock streamliner . . . now it's grandfathers and grandmothers . . . what language? what dialect? . . . one of them tells me . . . they're Finns . . . supposed to go to Zornhof, the ones we'd been expecting! not going there any more! . . . they're sick of Berlin! . . . they want to go south! . . . first train! . . . the Ulm express! . . . this is it! . . . where are they all from, this mob? . . . not all Finns . . . Latvians, Estonians . . . and Danes from the
Frist-Korps°
 . . . those Danes, I'd be running into them later . . . right now I'm telling you about the anarchy at the
Anhalt
station . . . they only wanted one thing . . . to chuck the brass, throw out the officers mother-naked, uniforms, weapons, and all! . . . and their boots! a ball! . . . everything out! flying! and the cursing! and the threats! . . . the officers in their pajamas versus all those enraged window-smashing mothers . . . helpless! . . . they've got to get up and out, and run after their pants . . . the big compartment in the middle is occupied by a big fat baldy with a monocle, he's in his dressing gown . . . they break down his door . . . at least fifteen of them pour in, they grab the sofas and his two beds . . . more howling in the corridor . . . the big baldy resists, but it's no use . . . his uniform goes flying out the window . . . and his coat and his boots . . . and his cap . . . the kids try it on . . . lots of fun! . . . rip it to pieces . . . all those little thugs on the platform . . . and the uniform! especially the jacket, with its layer of decorations . . . and the saber! . . . who's he? . . . some German tells me . . . not a general. . . a marshal! . . . which one? Von Lubb! . . . never heard of him . . . anyway, he wants to go to Ulm . . . hell, the whole car, the whole train wants to go to Ulm . . . not to mention the crowd in the station! this car is the worst, the whole corridor is full of glass . . . so are the platforms . . . a bad place to be in . . . angrier than the Métro . . . and all this glass underfoot! . . . plus the junk falling down from the big vault . . . the Marshal tries to get out, to push through the corridor . . . no dice! the women won't let him, he's blocked! . . . they want his slippers! . . . he resists!
"ach, nein! . . . nein!
. . ." they take them by force . . . now he can go! barefoot! . . . his officers have escaped in their slippers . . . they see their Marshal getting out, they rush to help him . . . to carry him! . . . they carry him . . . the whole train's laughing! . . . the Marshal borne aloft! all along the train . . .
heil! heil!
everybody's yelling . . .
von Lubb! . . . von Lubb! . . . schwein! schwein!
the funny part of it is that he answers their ovation . . . their
schwein! schwein!
. . . most amiably . . . with solemn little gestures . . . head and arms . . . he must be deaf . . . at least ten are carrying him . . . up in the air, in triumph . . . they keep on going! . . . past the coke . . . one . . . two . . . three enormous tenders . . . this is no little "shuttle" . . . a big brute of a train . . . the locomotive, a factory! smoking, puffing . . . acrid smoke and boiling jets . . . you can't get near it, but now there's at least twenty officers carrying him . . . von Lubb in triumph . . . they give him the flag and the plaque from their car to wave . . . O.K.W.  . . .
Wehrmacht
High Command . . . the engineer yells . . . yells at them . . . I understand . . .