March Battalion (26 page)

Accusations began to pour in from all quarters.

'Only last month she sent five of the girls to Ravensbruck Because one of them complained to an officer who came here-'

'What about Desa? She strangled Desa with her own hands--'

'She's hand in glove with the Gestapo. She had Hauptsturmfuhrer Nehri to dinner here every night for a month--'

With a sudden howl of rage Porta flung himself at
Mme.
Olga's throat. The Rumanian lieutenant began a furious crescendo of sound on the piano. Somehow,
Mme.
Olga managed to break free from Porta's grip. She ducked under his arm, evaded the howling mob of girls with desperate agility, gave a wide berth to the Legionnaire, who was watching the scene with a sardonic smile, and went running naked towards Alte. He was the oldest of us; also the sanest and the most humane. He was probably the one person in the room who might have mercy on her, and Olga had immediately sensed it. She threw herself at his feet, babbling and pleading incoherently. So long as Alte was prepared to listen to her, the rest of us stayed our hand. The Old Man stood gravely looking down at her. He brought out his pipe, filled it, lit it, slowly shook his head; then turned and left the room. It looked as if
Mme.
Olga's fate was sealed.

We closed round her in a threatening circle, men and girls together. It was a strange sight. Most of us were half naked, yet still clutching revolvers. The Legionnaire was the only one who had kept his clothes on, and perhaps for that reason he looked stranger than any of us.

'Kill her!' shrieked Nelly. 'Kill her like she killed Desa!'

'And Margaret Rose! She had her shot by the Gestapo!'

Once again, the accusations came pouring in. Yvonne and Ilse had been sent to a concentration camp. They had died on the barbed wire, trying to escape.
Mme.
Olga had several times threatened the other girls with the same fate. Then there was Silva. Silva had told a visiting lieutenant how she had come to be in the brothel, and for that she had been whipped to a pulp and left in the cellars to rot.

'She took all our money off us. Every penny we had.'

'She used to strip us naked every day and examine us.'

'She used-'

The Legionnaire held up a hand.

'O.K. I think we've heard enough now. But we've got to do the thing properly - hold a court of inquiry, weigh the evidence, decide on a fitting sentence.'

He picked up a broken chair and set it with a bang in the centre of the circle.

'That's for Yvonne,' he said. 'And that's for Ilse - and that's for Desa - and Margaret Rose and Silva. And this one--'

'That's for Lone!' cried one of the girls. 'She was hanged at Tichilesti.'

'Right.' The Legionnaire set up another chair. 'That's for Lone, who was hanged at Tichilesti.'

Porta held out a chair.

'Here you are. This one's Gerda. She was shot out in the garden there for throwing a bottle at the old hag.'

'And don't forget Monica--'

'And Sonia--'

'O.K. That'll be enough.' The Legionnaire waved a hand towards the chairs. 'The nine members of our jury. In theory there should be twelve, but--'

Before he could finish speaking another flood of names had poured in. Alice, Cecilia, Gola--

'Fair enough,' said the Legionnaire. 'That makes up the twelve. Twelve chairs, twelve dead girls. Now then--' He beckoned to Nelly - 'you're to be the judge. I'm the prosecuting counsel. No need for a defence, she hasn't got a leg to stand on.'

'I want to be a judge, too,' announced Little John.

The Legionnaire hunched a shoulder.

'Just as you wish. Come on, Sorka, you can be the third one.'

He beckoned to Porta's Jugoslav, who took her place beside Nelly and Little John with a hard smile on her lips. She had passed through nine state brothels in her time, and she plainly had no pity left for anyone.

'Take this.' Little John handed her his revolver. 'You can use it as a hammer if people start kicking up too much of a racket. We'll need a bit of peace and quiet to deal with this case.'

'O.K.' Sorka thumped on the floor with the butt of the revolver. 'Silence in court! Bring the prisoner in!'

Olga was helped forward with the sharp end of Porta's bayonet in one of her naked buttocks.

'You've no right to judge me. I haven't done anything. The Government makes the laws, not me. I just do what I'm told. I'm no more to blame than anyone else.'

'Shut up!' said the Legionnaire. 'The jury will tell you whether or not you're to blame.'

'Well, of course she is!' burst out Little John, who was drinking vodka in court.

'What are you accusing her of?' asked Nelly.

The Legionnaire turned to face the twelve empty chairs.

'Ladies of the jury, in the name of the people I accuse Olga Geiss of the following: murder; slavery; torture; and treason.'

Little John looked severely towards the prisoner.

'Did you hear that? What have you got to say for yourself? Guilty or not guilty?'

'Not guilty,' said Olga, faintly.

Sorka banged with her revolver.

'The accused can sit down. What is the jury's verdict?'

Again, the Legionnaire turned towards the row of chairs.

'Ladies of the jury, do you find the accused Olga Geiss guilty or not guilty of the aforesaid crimes?'

He listened a moment, then turned back to the three judges.

'The jury return a verdict of guilty.'

'Of course she's guilty!' said Little John, for the second time. 'All we've got to do is pass sentence. For myself I think she ought to suffer death by slow hanging... with a lighted candle stuck up her backside.'

Olga gave a loud scream and threw herself to the ground. At the same moment, a harsh voice addressed us from the far side of the room, from the double doors that led into the main hall.

'What's going on in here?'

We had been so engrossed in our court of inquiry that none of us had heard the sound of footsteps on the marble tiles. Three men of the local police force were standing in the doorway. It was an Oberfeldwebel who had spoken. As we turned in a body to face them, he suddenly opened fire into the crowd. There was a scream; then Annie of Hanover, her eyes wide with astonishment, slid slowly to the ground and the blood began gushing from her mouth.

'Save me!' shrieked Olga, from the back of the crowd. They're going to torture me!'

'Quiet,' said the Oberfeldwebel. 'Leave this to us. We know what we're doing.'

He took a step forward. As he did so, there was a flash of steel past his right shoulder then the Legionnaire's knife embedded itself in one of his companions. The Oberfeldwebel spun round. The wounded man stared up at him with disbelieving eyes, the knife lodged in his chest, then very slowly he slithered to the ground and lay still. He ended up by the side of Barcelona, who had been incapably drunk for the past half hour, and his right hand fell across Barcelona's face. There was a thud as his revolver rolled out of his grasp. Barcelona, acting on nothing more than, a drunken instinct, at once picked it up and levelled it - more or less - at our friends across the room. He plainly had no idea who they were, much less what he was doing or why he was doing it, but in that second Heide had thrown himself upon the Oberfeldwebel and brought him crashing earthwards. Calmly, the Legionnaire retrieved his knife and wiped it clean on the front of his battledress. The Rumanian lieutenant wandered back to his piano and began playing what sounded like a death march.

'Before continuing with the inquest,' said the Legionnaire, 'I think it might be better if we closed the doors. Sven, would you mind?'

By the time I arrived back, it seemed that the inquest was already over.
Mme.
Olga, her smile of triumph wiped off her face, was weeping and wringing her hands together.

'In the name of the people,' intoned Sorka, pitilessly, 'you, Olga Geiss, are to suffer death by hanging. One of the judges has demanded that you should also suffer torture and your body be thrown to the dogs.'

'That was me,' explained Little John, as if we couldn't have guessed. 'It's the least she deserves.'

'Very likely,' agreed the Legionnaire. He turned to
Mme.
Olga. 'Did you hear that, old woman? Have you anything to say before the sentence is carried out?'

Whether she had or not, she was given no chance. Porta tore down some velvet curtains and ripped off the heavy cord which operated them. Little John snatched up a discarded pair ofstockings and tied a gag round the victim's mouth. One of the Rumanians bound her hands together with a red silk brassiere.
Mme.
Olga did not give in without a fight. She wriggled and twisted, bit, kicked and elbowed, but the girls closed in upon her and it was a miracle she was not torn to death before we got her to the gallows.

One end of the curtain cord Was attached high up on the flagstaff. The other was formed into a loop with a slip knot. Still heaving and kicking, the mountainous body was then carried by many willing hands up to a window on the top floor. The loop was placed round
Mme.
Olga's neck.

'Jump,' ordered Little John.

Mme.
Olga balanced precariously on the edge of the window sill, all her fat white flesh quivering and threatening to unbalance her.

'Jump!' roared Little John, for the second time.

She jumped at last; or fell; or was pushed. Her body wrapped itself round the flagpole, hanging at the end of the cord. Her double chins seemed to swell up like so many balloons, and then her neck stretched out very long and thin.

A silence fell in the upstairs room. Some of us turned away. Some of us leaned out of the window and stared with globulous eyes, hypnotized by the horror of that fat white body swaying to and fro at the end of the cord.

'The bitch,' said Nelly. 'She got off lightly if you ask me.'

Silently we returned downstairs, pushing the two policemen before us. The Rumanian lieutenant was still gently playing his death march. Barcelona had vomited on the floor and seemed slightly less drunk than he had been.

'O.K.' The Legionnaire turned to the Oberfeldwebel and his companion. 'Which of you two killed the girl?'

We stared down at Annie of Hanover, lying on the floor in a pool of her own blood. The Oberfeldwebel turned crimson.

'I - I suppose I must have done. My - finger - that is, I pulled the trigger by mistake. I never meant to hit anyone.'

'I'm sure you didn't,' agreed the Legionnaire, soothingly. 'Nevertheless, you're a damn sight too dangerous to leave lying around. Anyone could come across you - and get shot by mistake.' He jerked his head at Heide. 'Take him outside and get rid of him.'

'Willingly!' said Heide, his eyes gleaming.

They disappeared. We heard their footsteps echoing across the marble hall, we heard the front door open and close. Then there was silence, and we all stood listening. The Lieutenant let his fingers rest quietly on the piano keys. The girls stood watching from the windows. There was a tense air of expectancy in the room, and even Little John and Porta were silent And then came the sound we were waiting for: the chatter and rattle of a machine gun, followed by a single shot from a P.38.

'That's it,' said Porta. .

The Legionnaire picked up a bottle of cognac and solemnly raised it to his lips.

'Let's get on with the celebrations,' he suggested.

No one was averse to the idea.

T
HE
merrymaking and drinking went on. We had almost forgotten the war that was still being fought somewhere to the northwest, and it came as an unpleasant shock when the first of the retreating armies began to make their appearance. It seemed that the Russians were breaking through everywhere, that the entire front line had collapsed, that our troops were in a state of panic and disorder. So much we learned from those who could spare the time to stop and enlighten us on their maddened flight away from the front and towards the passes of Kunduk. There were men from all regiments, rushing pell-mell from the scenes of battle. Gunners, engineers, members of the tank corps, all intent on putting as much distance as possible between themselves and the swiftly advancing Russians. Someone yelled that the enemy had broken through at every available spot and were only half a mile from the village. Someone else passed on the information that over the river several divisions of our troops had been cut off by the Russians. It appeared that everyone who could was running, even those who had been brought up as reserves, fresh and eager to fight, only days before.

We ourselves were now attached to the Third Rumanian Army, and orders came through that we were to stand firm and hold our position. All of us, the Rumanians and ourselves, even the girls, saw the folly of the situation: a whole army, eight divisions of fighting men, was in flight, and we, a small group of mixed nationalities, were expected to hold out against the enemy. We looked out of the window at the retreating hordes and we had a bloody good laugh. There was nothing much else we could do.

How had the mass panic begun in the first place? In a sadly familiar fashion. It appeared that initially a small number of T.34s, to restore the morale of the flagging Russian troops, had been sent ahead in the hope of breaking through the German front lines. These were taken by surprise and the tanks had crashed through with comparative ease, firing to right and to left and leaving behind them a state of hysteria and confusion, Some fool had lost his head and sent an urgent message to the effect that they were surrounded, that the Russians were forging ahead and retreat was the only answer. The cry was taken up, parrot fashion, and was soon echoing through the ranks. The panic had begun. One thought only was uppermost in men's minds: get the hell out of it before the tanks had completely encircled them and they were trapped. The news that filtered through grew ever more alarming. The small number of T.34s became, in the fevered imagination of the fleeing soldiers, a whole battalion, an entire regiment, several divisions. A captain solemnly assured us that the entire Russian Fifth Army had broken through and was on its way towards us - a piece of information we knew for a certainty to be false, since the majority of the armoured divisions were licking their wounds on the other side of Kertz. It was this same captain, however, who gave orders for all secret documents to be burnt and for all vehicles - except one, which he appropriated for his own use - to be destroyed to keep them from falling into the hands of the advancing Fifth Army.