North (53 page)

Whoa there! you'll think I'm deranged . . . you'll tap my forehead like my buddy! . . . piffle! . . . back to our messkits!

"Hey, son! think! Haven't we forgotten something?"

At my present advanced age I notice that I've always been serious . . . very! and that other people are extremely frivolous . . . but so arrogant and sententious! . . . one drink and they fly away! . . .

"Think, Le Vig! . . . we've forgotten somebody!"

"I know . . . I know . . . the
Revizor!"

"Le Vig . . . we've got to go back!"

It doesn't make much difference at this point . . ."

I don't say he's wrong . . . but I'd better mull it over . . . I sit down . . . he's still standing . . . it's not warm . . . the snow can't make up its mind . . . they say it's the bombs, that well have a bitter cold winter but no snow . . . all right with me, suits Le Vig too. . . anyway, huddling here like this I feel very tired . . . which doesn't do the
Revizor
any good . . . I make up my mind: a quick dash to the mess hall! . . . dash? . . . all right, well hobble over to the
bibels
. . . I hope they're there . . . I mean the cook and the sergeant. . . here we are on the macadam, the carriage road . . . nobody in sight . . . except ducks . . . and a gaggle of geese . . . they know us, we bore them, they don't flap their wings, they cross the road very slowly . . . even geese have their times and seasons . . . take the Capitol . . . if the barbarians had come back twenty times, the geese wouldn't even have looked at them . . . Friapus flutters young girls, but makes matrons yawn . . . seems to me the whole village is sick of us . . . nobody at the windows! . . . usually there was a fidgeting of curtains . . . looks like they'd decided after the funeral not to see us any more . . . I get up, let's go! . . . on to the
Tanzhalle!
maybe two hundred yards . . . not a soul . . . they've all cleared out . . . same at the bar, their
wirtschaft
, that was always so crowded . . . their hangout . . . those long-distance spitters . . . at us! . . . and even the redheaded madam, their Madelon, a war widow, I think . . . if I understood right . . . so rabidly anti-Nazi, anti-von Leiden, anti-
franzose
, and especially anti-us! . . .
"scheissbande"
she called us . . . I won't translate, no percentage . . . well anyway, no sign of her! . . . we stand there a while on purpose outside the
wirtschaft
. . . nothing! not an oyster! . . . perfect solitude! . . . I'm wondering if the
bibels'
kitchen will be closed . . . no! . . . here we are . . .

"Well, what do you say?"

"Nothing!"

Laconic . . . plenty to talk about, it seems to me . . . they're not talking . . . I hold out our messkits . . . the cook fills them . . . and
tag! tag!
. . . meaning to move on! . . . okay! . . . so long! . . . on the road, still nobody . . . this side, that side . . . not a housewife . . . just geese . . . and very quiet, piled up in families . . . sleeping with their heads under their wings . . . indifferent . . .

"Hurry, Le Vig!"

I'm thinking of our
Revizor
. . . our survivor . . . not so sure!

"Come on! . . . quick!"

I should talk! always wobbling, bumping into everything . . . here we are at the trees . . . the park . . . damn! that contraption . . . I'd forgotten . . . two splints . . . it wouldn't be pretty, but . . . the other
bibels
at the isba would do it . . . ah, they're home! I ask them . . . they take a suck, they whittle . . . fine! just what I wanted . . . I see they've changed their clothes, no more overalls, big long overcoats . . . green . . . must be their, winter uniform . . . different wooden shoes too, enormous, plenty of room fpr straw, a bundle for each foot . . . we shove off! . . .
danke! danke!
straight to the drawing room . . . we've kept him waiting . . . maybe he's passed on . . . no! . . . no! . . . he's alive and chipper . . . the furies haven't been haunting him . . . I ask him . . . oh no! of course not! the furies are in Hamburg! . . . didn't I tell him so? . . . don't I remember? am I afraid? . . . he asks me . . . this is too much! now I'm haunted! I'm cracked! . . . somebody else that thinks I'm nuts! where had I seen the furies? . . . I don't argue . . . everything's fine! . . . the
Revizor
's morale is way up! and now this contraption! . . . let's take a look at his leg: red and swollen, bad edema . . . it won't be pretty, but oh well . . .

"Lili! Lili!"

I want her to come down . . .

"Kracht!"

I need him too . . .

"Two packages of cotton! and three big bandages . . ."

Kracht goes out and comes back . . . he's got it . . . now we sit him up . . . we carry him to the armchair, we put him in, but he can't take it! . . . and he's not the complaining kind of patient, not at all! . . . no use insisting, well lay him down again, he can wait . . . back on the stretcher he stops groaning . . . I offer him a messkit . . . he's hungry, he takes it . . . I'd been afraid this would happen . . . he should have been put to sleep . . . can't be done under present conditions . . . they'd see later on . . . different doctors . . .

"You think so?"

"Oh yes, certainly!"

"Doctors from where?"

"You'll see! . . . you'll see!"

I can't tell him any more . . . something else on his mind! . . .

"Und die Kretzer?
the Kretzers? you know?"

He's asking me . . .

"Im the
Revizor!"

"I know! . . . I know!"

"I've got to see their accounts!
konto!
. . .
konto!
. . .
kassa!
the till!"

He's not the worrying kind, but all the same he'd have liked to see their books . . .

"He's been here! . . . oh yes! Kretzer! . . . but you were asleep!"

I want to make him stop fidgeting. . .

"Schön! Schön!
all right!"

He's a bit calmer . . . at that exact moment, explosions . . .
boo-oom!
and crash! . . . pretty close, I think . . . over by the airfield . . . he's worried again!

"Do they often drop bombs?"

"Very seldom! . . . more and more seldom! . . . they shoot them all down! . . . the passive defense! . . . the flack, you know . . ."

When it comes to lifting morale, I have no rival, here, there, or anywhere else . . . always the right word! . . . if we were pulling into. Hell, I'd call it the "perfect heating plant"! . . . I'd have them all in stitches, they'd ask for more! don't they ask for more war?. . . wiggling their asses! . . . "peace! peace!". . . bleating hypocrites! . . . the crematorium, that's what they want! a nifty one! nifty and final!

This character's getting on my nerves with his accounts and his
kassa!
. . . he should finish his messkit! . . . ah yes, his two ccs. to make him sleep! . . . I don't boil the needle . . . what with? . . . I inject . . . he dozes off immediately, good, I've done what I could . . . but there's something else! . . . Leonard and Joseph . . . what about them? . . . I can't look after everybody . . . and Bébert . . . I think I heard him . . . he's moaning . . . he wasn't so young even then . . . he lived another seven years . . . I brought him back here to Meudon . . . he died here after many more incidents, dungeons, bivouacs, and ashes . . . all Europe . . . he died nimble and graceful . . . perfect . . . he was jumping in and out the window that same morning . . . we're sitting there laughing, oldsters born . . . let's leave him . . . and go upstairs!" I decide . . . to our tower niche . . . we'd see tomorrow . . . tomorrow . . . at the crack of dawn . . .

That tomorrow was long in coming . . . I'm not nervous . . . certainly not! . . . but something struck me . . . I remember . . . at exactly two in the morning . . . I'd asked Kracht to lend me a "torch" . . . I look at my watch . . . Bébert growls . . . he never growls . . . right! . . . there's somebody outside! . . . on the stairs . . . one of the
Dienstelle
crowd? . . . they never budge at night . . . they stay in their rooms, even when there's an alert . . . the trembling of the walls? . . . no! . . . it's a stair creaking . . . squeaking! . . . more little squeaks! . . . yes, it's the stairs! . . . Bébert growls again . . . I'll go see . . . I don't want to wake Le Vig . . . a scream! . . . two screams! . . . screaming and yelling! . . . the stairway's full of them . . . clouts! . . .
wham!
. . .
bam!
. . . a brawl! . . . up above us . . . where the lady secretaries live . . . sounds bad! . . . a pack of women! and men's voices! . . . Lili and Le Vig roll out of the hay . . . they ask me what's going on . . . no idea! . . . they're clouting and yelling, that's all I know . . . I open our door . . . Christ! . . . the whole staff . . . fighting like mad . . . their floor sticks out over the void . . . a kind of balcony . . . not with each other, all against two women . . . I go up, I see the whole thing with my "torch" . . . I see the two women they're clouting! bashing! biting! . . .
"hilfe!
help!" they're yelling! it's Inge and la Kretzer! what have they been doing up there? . . . getting ready to chuck them over the railing! . . . what's the story? . . . ah, they're shouting, they tell us . . . they'd been setting the place on fire! . . . bet your life! look at the bottles of alcohol! . . . I could smell it . . . all over the stairs from the drawing room . . . to the old bag's room on the third floor . . . wanting to burn us all up? . . . exactly! . . . all the way up to Marie-Thérèse's place! . . . four bottles of denatured alcohol . . ." I hadn't been mistaken when I heard the floor creak . . . neither had Bébert . . . Inge and la Kretzer who never talked to each other . . . they'd got together to set the joint on fire! . . . and now they're going overboard! together! . . . I'm not interfering, we'd go for a sail too! the husband turns up! they all start jabbering! . . . the bookkeeper . . . he's threatening . . . threatening what? . . . I can't exactly make out . . . he never raises his voice, now he's bellowing . . . ah, Kracht! finally! . . . where's he been? he's wearing his dressing gown . . . what's all this? . . . "setting fire . . . !" they tell him, they show him the three bottles . . . he sniffs . . . to see for himself . . . I go up to the next floor with him . . . the old bag's door! . . . sure thing! . . . it's still wet! . . . one match and the whole place! . . . we and our straw, narrow squeak! . . . the
Revizor
would have cooked too, and the
Dienstelle
ladies . . . then suddenly smash! . . .
bam!
. . . the ladies are starting in again! "Snot-nose! criminal! tart!" . . . their opinion of Inge!

More than twenty of those broads on her tail! . . . they can't fail . . . she'll take a flier! . . . we're looking down from above . . . Kracht knows what to do . . . his big Mauser! . . . again! . . . two shots at the ceiling! . . .
crack! crack!
. . . and they all split! like panicky mice! . . . back to their pads . . . it's all overt . . . nobody left on the stairs but the three of us and Kracht . . . and la Kretzer and Inge von Leiden . . . the ladies are a mess . . . bleeding and bitten all over . . . their dresses are gone . . . rags! . . . but they've got off easy, thanks to us . . . they'd have been erased . . . close call! . . . but this isn't the end of it . . . measures will have to be taken . . . "measures" are Kracht's business . . .

"Doctor, I can't leave them here . . . the whole village would mob them . . ."

"Oh, I don't doubt it! . . . I don't doubt it, Kracht!"

"They thought they'd set the house on fire, didn't they?"

"Oh yes! definitely! . . . five quarts of alcohol!"

Slight exaggeration . . .

"I can't send them anywhere . . . I'll lock them up right here . . . well, around the corner . . . in the isbas . . .what do you think?"

"Perfect! . . . perfect!"

Excellent idea! . . . but I wasn't so sure they'd stay put!

"Who'll guard them?"

"The
bibelforschers?"

He gives me the details . . . of his idea . . . just one of the isbas . . . they'd been built for the Finnish doctors . . . their ship must have broken down . . . someplace . . .very unlikely they'd ever get here! but the
bibelforschers?
would they be willing to guard them? . . . a hitch . . . they'd be willing, but not armed! convicts, jailbirds, but no guns! . . . not soldiers! the Scriptures! . . . radical antimilitarists! . . . they'd always said no! . . . if Adolf had given up, Kracht certainly couldn't make them bear arms! never mind! he'd put them both! . . . Inge and la Kretzer . . . in the big isba! and four
bibels
at each door, armed with their picks and shovels . . . my ideal I give it to him free of charge . . .

"Excellent! what could be better? . . . but the little girl? . . . and the husband . . . Herr Kretzer?"

Certainly, sure thing! all together!

"You'll go and see them every day! . . . twice a day!"

All right with me . . . and Kracht at night, he wants the night shift . . . every hour! . . . we know our shepherdesses! . . . oh yes, and let's not forget our Gypsies! . . . hourly visits for them too . . . every hour! nothing biblical about them! . . . dangerous no-goods! . . . fine and dandy! that's our program . . . day and night! . . . our work's cut out for us! . . . and if we ever see Harras again, well ask him what he thinks of all this! . . . if he ever turns up! Kracht goes down to get some rest . . . we'll try too . . . he'll escort Inge and her new friend . . . we'll wait for him . . . fine, but how's Le Vig doing? he's not asleep . . .

"Say, Le Vig, do you remember Baden-Baden?"

He gropes . . .

"No, Ferdie! no!"

"And Madame von Dopf?"

He gropes some more . . .

"No . . ."

"And Berlin? . . . Faustus?"

"Wait! wait! sort of . . ."

I point . . .

"Berlin's over there! . . . d'you hear?
boo-oom! 
. . . d"you hear Berlin? they're dropping bombs!"