Fireshadow (12 page)

Seventeen

November 1943

The detention cells were in their own enclosure, just a few metres from the German fence line. There were four in all, cubicles containing a wooden bunk and straw pallet, each with a tiny window high in the wall, offering only a barred glimpse of the sky beyond. The cells opened onto a narrow yard and shared a single lavatory and cold shower. Apart from Erich's all were empty.

If Erich had been bored by the daily routine of the camp, two weeks in the cell drove him to distraction. Time there passed with interminable sluggishness. Most days were spent sitting in the shade of the small building, staring at the narrow rectangle of sky visible above. Bland meals were delivered by the guards, and Erich spent the hours in frustrated contemplation.

There was nothing to see or do, so inevitably his mind drifted back to home, to his sister and mother, and of course his father. At nights the dream of the desert continued to haunt him, but now, in the cell, the dream seemed even more real, more intense and harder to shake off afterwards.

After the first few days, time seemed to float into a continuous cycle of waking and sleeping, and by the end of the first week he'd completely lost track of the days. Apart from the guards, who were under strict orders not to speak to him, he saw no one. It was a surprise, then, when on the second to last day he heard the scraping of the lock in the middle of the day.

Erich sat up as one of the guards put his head through the door.

‘Special visitor for you. Commandant's permission.'

Doctor Alexander entered the small yard, wrinkling his nose in distaste at the smell from the latrine, which didn't always drain properly.

Erich lowered his eyes to the floor. For two weeks he'd been playing this moment out again and again in his mind, and now shame and guilt seized him in equal proportions. The doctor sat heavily on the cot beside him. Erich thought he looked even older than he had two weeks ago. For some time the two sat in uncomfortable silence, until the old doctor spoke.

‘I didn't believe them at first, Erich. But it is true, isn't it?'

Aware of the heat rushing to his face, Erich offered a mute nod.

‘I want to hear you say it to me.'

‘
Ja
, Doctor. It is true.'

Doctor Alexander shook his head sadly.

‘That is what I can't understand, Erich. Why you would do this thing?'

‘It was not . . .' Erich stopped. Despite everything, he wasn't prepared to inflict further dishonour upon himself by offering excuses.

‘I cannot tell you, Doctor. I have no explanation.'

‘That's what I thought.'

Once more, silence filled the small cell. Sighing, the doctor looked up through the narrow barred window.

‘You know something, Erich?' he continued. ‘I didn't want to take on this job. When the War Department first approached me, I refused it. Too old, too tired. And in all honesty, the thought of having to tend to Germans repelled me.'

Erich kept his eyes locked on the concrete floor.

‘You know about my son, I presume. I imagine that Alice will have told you. It was only after the minister appealed to me personally, told me how desperate the army was to find a qualified camp physician, that I agreed, with much reservation, to come out of retirement. But once I started, do you know . . .' He paused. ‘It was good for me. Good to meet men like Heinrich Stutt and Günter, good for me to see your comrades not as the soldiers who'd killed Paul but as men like me. Men with families, men with love. That was why I was happy for Alice to come down here. Because she, like you, is of a generation who would otherwise grow up believing without question the same prejudices I've spent the last twenty-four years harbouring.'

For the first time, Erich turned to face the doctor. The old man's breathing was laboured, but he met Erich's gaze directly.

‘And do you know something else, Erich? It was especially good when Henrich assigned you to work with me in the hospital, because you remind me very much of my son. He also lied about his age to get into the army – did Alice tell you that? No. You are like him in so many ways, and I think I needed to see that, to comprehend for myself, so that I could begin to understand why he felt he had to leave us. It killed my wife, you know, his death. She died of a broken heart and for a long time I blamed everyone – the Germans, the English, even Paul, for that. I blamed him for the war, for running away, for the fact that he'd never follow in my footsteps. And then Heinrich brought you into the hospital that morning . . .'

The old man's voice trailed away, and Erich found himself suddenly and strangely aware of the minutiae of sounds surrounding them: the tick of the tin roof expanding in the midday sun, the delicate rustle and chirp of insects in the low grass outside the walls, the distant cackle of birds in the forest.

‘I think I know why you took the scalpel, Erich. I can understand it. I can imagine my Paul doing something similar, because sometimes young men do foolish, impulsive things they later regret. Heinrich tells me you claim that you were about to replace it when you were caught, and I believe that, also.'

And for the first time since that now distant afternoon when he'd been caught, Erich was aware of the faintest glimmerings of hope inside himself. The doctor continued.

‘But of course, things are different now. They have to be. Heinrich and the commandant are both in agreement that you can no longer be trusted to work in the hospital, despite my appeals.'

‘What shall I do, then?'

The doctor shrugged, the movement slow, dispirited.

‘I really do not know, Erich. That is for Commander Stutt to decide. I imagine that with Thomas still around he will assign you to one of the working parties, so that you are out in the forest during the days. Whatever he allocates to you, I hope that you will apply yourself with the same diligence and care that you took for me. In the meantime' – he touched Erich's arm – ‘I would appreciate it if you would continue to look into the hospital regularly. Both Alice and I would welcome you.'

At the mention of the girl's name Erich felt his stomach sink again.

‘What does she think?'

The doctor went quiet for a few moments, and answered without meeting Erich's eye.

‘She refused to believe it, at first. She blamed everything on Thomas. Now, I am not sure what she thinks. You will need to discuss that with her yourself. Like a man.'

The doctor stood.

‘They will release you back into the general camp population tomorrow, Erich. I will need to look you over before you are assigned to your new duties. Camp policy, I'm afraid. I'll see you then.'

He made to leave and Erich also stood.

‘Doctor' – the old man turned – ‘I am sorry.'

The apology sounded pitifully inadequate, but to his surprise the doctor's eyes moistened and he reached out and squeezed the younger man's shoulder with a strange intensity.

‘I know you are, Erich, I know you are. I'll see you tomorrow.'

And the door closed, leaving Erich to contemplate his final day in isolation.

Eighteen

February 1944

The morning air was already warm as the canopy of branches and leaves closed overhead and the number three working party made its way into the green dimness of the forest. The darkness in the shadows created a false impression of coolness and Erich looked up, as he did every morning, acutely aware of the claustrophobic pressure of the trees pressing in upon them. His axe jogged at his shoulder and apart from the crunch of men's boots on the rough gravel trail the morning was silent.

It was the same every day – the sensation of close confinement during those first moments in the forest. Often the men would sing bawdy German marching songs to shake off the unsettling strangeness, but this morning, for whatever reason, they marched in subdued silence.

As usual, the black birds – cockatoos, the Australian guards called them – picked up their trail almost immediately and shadowed the working party, flapping between the treetops with awkward grace. Occasionally one would issue a strident, harsh shriek to the rest of the forest, but otherwise they trailed above almost in silence. Somehow, Erich felt, it added to the oppressiveness of the morning.

A fly buzzed at his head, and with his free hand Erich swung at it, the gesture almost subconscious after two months with the work crew. Even this early in the day the heat of the Australian summer was stifling, baking the land, coating both trees and men in a constant layer of dust, which kicked up from their boots and settled quickly over everything, lending a feeling of constant grittiness.

Slowly, lulled by the rhythmic swing of the walk and the gentle pace of the morning, Erich drifted into reverie, as he always did, replaying the last couple of months in his mind.

At first, he'd hated being in the working party. He'd quickly realised what a favour Stutt had done him by allocating him to the hospital. Work in the forest was back-breaking and difficult. There was the incessant marching to and from the logging stands, the heat and the flies, and of course the forest with its brooding presence, its constant threat hanging over him.

He thought about Alice. Their first meeting after his release from the detention cells was still clear in his mind. He'd reported, filthy and unshaven, to the hospital for his mandatory check-up. The doctor had not been there and they'd stood in discomfited silence until she spoke.

‘What were you thinking?'

And he'd looked at her, strangely aware for the first time of how pretty she was. Not in a conventional way, not like the girls he'd known back in Germany, but pretty nonetheless. He noticed the way that light seemed to gleam in her dark hair and fall across her face.

‘Do you know how much you hurt him, Erich? Do you?'

She was flushed with anger, colour rising in her cheeks, and she tossed her long hair back over her shoulder angrily. Erich felt within him a growing bubble of quiet despair at what he had thrown away.

‘Well? Say something.'

His voice was scratchy and hoarse. ‘I do not know what I can say.'

‘Anything. I don't care. Just tell me why you did it.'

He could not look at her any longer. Her face was crimson with anger and disappointment, so he looked out the window.

‘I do not know. It was just . . . just a moment. I cannot explain.'

And she turned and walked away, crossing to the far end of the room before facing him again.

‘That's what Grandfather says, but I don't believe him. And I don't believe you. I think you were still trying to fight this bloody war. Weren't you?'

Erich took a step in her direction, desperate. ‘No! Not at all. I was only, I was . . .' She cut him off.

‘Don't even start. How many times did you tell me that you, no
us
– that we were still at war? That we were all enemies? Well, I hope you're happy now, Erich. I hope you're pleased with your little battle.'

Tears ran freely down her cheeks and Erich wanted nothing more than to go to her and wipe them away. But he stood still, mute and ashamed, pride tearing him in two directions.

‘Alice, I . . . I think that . . .'

‘Do you want to know something else, Erich? All the time you were carrying on about the war and being a soldier, all that time I didn't believe you were serious. I thought you were just covering for something, just lonely. I thought you had more to you than that. That you were more than just some' – she hesitated – ‘some
German
.'

She hissed the word and it rang around the empty hospital like a gunshot. Erich felt it tear into him with a force almost physical. He struggled again to speak.

‘I . . .' But there were no words. Alice stared at him through tear-hazed eyes and, as their gazes locked, both shuddered at the confusion of feelings which echoed around them. For an age there was nothing at all in the world but the sad dark eyes of the girl across the room.

Then footsteps sounded and the doctor entered, instantly aware of the charged atmosphere.

‘Alice, Erich . . .'

But the girl stormed past and out. Barely aware of himself or the doctor, Erich took a couple of involuntary steps to follow and then stopped, his eyes still locked on the spot where the door had shut behind her. He scarcely felt the doctor's gentle pressure on his shoulder.

‘Come on then, Erich, let's have a look at you.'

Through the examination the boy stayed quiet, and the doctor allowed him his silence. Then when the check-up was over and it was time for Erich to leave, the old man led him gently to the door.

‘She will come around, Erich. Have faith, Youngster.'

And Erich had nodded, said nothing and stumbled to his bunk through a fog with her words still echoing in his mind.

That had been weeks, no, months ago. And still the numbness stayed with him. Each day in the forest Erich swung his axe, hauled timber to the cart, ate and laughed and joked with the other men, but all the time part of him stayed in the hospital, listening with silent, unexpected despair as her trembling voice accused him, over and over – ‘some
German
.'

If the other men in the working party were aware of what he was going through, they gave no sign, and as the weeks passed his hands grew the thick calluses of the timber worker. His shoulders and back filled out, stretching at the fabric of his uniform, and the men would include him more and more in their jokes and ribaldry.

‘Come on, son, swing the thing!'

‘You're not in the hospital now, Youngster!'

Even the hated nickname, ‘Youngster', had somehow taken on a new meaning. Now they called it with affection, even a kind of respect, which was something Erich had never experienced before, not from men. Time passed and he began to feel more accepted, a part of the crew, and a little of the fog faded and lifted.

‘Here we are then, quick drinks!'

Stopping at the end of the trail, the men flopped to the ground and drank deeply from their canteens. Their crew leader was a thirty-two-year-old known to everyone simply as ‘Kaiser'. He'd been a tank commander before he was taken prisoner, while hauling the rest of his men from their burning vehicle. Before they formally captured him the British had allowed him to continue while they'd sat and watched. In the process he'd been badly burned and his skin was wrinkled and pock-marked.

‘Right then, usual jobs. I want to get that big one we started yesterday down first, and then make a start on at least three more. Let's get to it.'

The men rose from the patches of ground where they'd thrown themselves and headed into the woods.

Erich had an easy task to start off with – keeping the blade of the two-man felling saw cool with water as the other members of the crew worked the blade through the hard, red wood. The tree was a massive old jarrah, and the day before they'd managed about two-thirds of the cut. Axe men had been chipping away above the incision, knocking away the trunk in the direction that they wanted the tree to fall.

‘All ready, Youngster?'

‘
Ja
. . .' Erich had fetched a bucket from the wagon and filled it from a small tank they carried with them. ‘Ready when you are.'

The two men started, slowly working the blade into the slot they'd created the previous day.

‘Watch out! Here it goes!'

With a groan that seemed to tear through the restive afternoon, the great jarrah gave way and with surprising slowness plunged to earth. Erich watched, aware of the unexpected majesty in the tree's death. As men darted from beneath its path, it dropped with a resigned, almost splendid elegance and when it finally crashed into the undergrowth, all present felt the earth shudder beneath them. In the moments that followed the entire bush fell silent, as though mourning the death of that great giant. Then slowly the gentle background rustle would start again, and the men would laugh and joke exuberantly.

‘That was a monster, eh Helmut?'

‘
Ja
. Even bigger than the one that took Günter's leg!'

Erich had quickly discovered that this was the benchmark against which all tree-fellings were now compared.

‘Come on, Pieters, jump to it, Youngster.'

‘I think he must be tired!'

‘Are we keeping you awake?'

The men were grinning.

‘
Nein
. I just wanted to let you all feel good about yourselves before I show you up for the old men that you really are.' Erich grinned back.

Kaiser replied, ‘Big words from a little boy.'

They all laughed again, and then Erich fell to the task of severing the branches from the main trunk, dropping quickly into his regular rhythm of swinging and chopping, enjoying the solid thump and the bite of the blade into hard wood.

All the time, though, he was aware of the force of the forest. Most of the men seemed unaffected, some even seemed to like it, but working in the dark, muted light between the jarrahs had done nothing to alleviate any of its foreignness as far as Erich was concerned. The feeling that something was watching, observing, was with him whenever he was out there working in the semi-twilight or marching along the rough trails they'd hewn. He felt a presence that followed them out and back and during the days watched the slow destruction they inflicted upon the living timber.

‘Hey! Look!'

Kaiser was holding up something. Something small and noisy. The men all stopped and went across to him. Cradled in his hands was a baby bird, a bundle of black down.

‘It was in there.' He gestured at a hollow junction in the branches of the fallen tree.

The men crowded around. Nests weren't uncommon, but this was the first time a living chick had been recovered from one. In Kaiser's big hands it trembled and mewed piteously.

‘Is it all right?'

‘
Ja
. I think so.'

‘What do we do with it? Can you see its parents?'

‘
Nein
. We should take it back to camp.'

‘What for?'

Kaiser shrugged. ‘We can't leave it out here like this. Günter can look after it. He's an old woman now!'

The men laughed.

‘Youngster, would the doctor or your sweetheart be able to get us a box to put it in?'

Faces turned to Erich expectantly and he felt his colour rise. ‘Your sweetheart' had become, despite his protestations, the accepted term used to refer to Alice.

‘
Ja
. I can ask.'

‘Good. In the meantime, it can live in my shirt.'

Carefully, Kaiser carried the chick over to where his discarded shirt lay draped across a branch. It was odd to watch his large, scarred hands dealing so delicately with the tiny creature.

‘Come on now, you lot, back to it. Now.'

When the working party got back to the compound that evening, Kaiser released the bird to Erich and he took it over to the hospital. The tiny creature's heart was beating at a million miles an hour. Erich could feel it beneath his fingertips. The evening was warm, small insects were drifting here and there and the forest beyond the wire was settling into its nightly forage. Erich paused at the door, hesitant, and knocked lightly with his free hand. Footsteps within, and Alice was there.

They'd not spoken since the day of his release from detention and now the memory of her anger and his shame came flooding back. She appraised him coolly.

‘Erich. Hello.'

‘Good evening . . .' Unsure of where to go next, he held out the bird, awkward, embarrassed, uncertain. In his hands it chirruped, the tiny cry the only sound between them. ‘We found it in the forest.'

Alice took the tiny bundle and briefly their fingertips brushed. The contact sent a tiny shiver running through him and he thought the girl stiffened slightly. Doctor Alexander called from behind his desk, ‘Is that Erich?'

‘
Ja
, Doctor.'

‘Well, come in, son. Don't stand out there all night.'

Stepping into the dim light, Erich was suddenly aware of the fact that he'd been working all day and shuffled his feet, feeling embarrassed and dishevelled. The doctor came over and shook his hand.

‘It seems like so long since we've seen you. You were going to look in, remember?'

‘Yes, Doctor. I am sorry.'

‘No, no. There's nothing to apologise for. I'm sure you're fairly tired in the evenings.'

‘That is true.'

The girl said nothing but retreated to the shadows by the cold stove and gently stroked the downy bird. That moment of contact with Erich had, what? Scared her? No. It was something different – unsettling. Not fear then. While the doctor and Erich talked, she looked at him, surprised at how different he seemed from the boy who'd stood in almost the same place just a couple of months earlier. The work in the forest had filled out his body, and it suited him, though somehow he still looked ill at ease in it. There was something else about him too, something beyond the physical changes, that she couldn't describe. It intrigued her and Alice felt the vestiges of her anger starting to waver.