The Berkut (31 page)

At the end of a week Pescht befriended an American lieutenant colonel from Texas and cornered him. "Some of us want to leave."

"We understand, but it will take some time. You'll need papers, identification. We want to help you locate relatives."

"We have no relatives. Hitler has seen to that." What he wanted, Pescht told the colonel, were sturdy boots, heavy coats and weapons. The colonel balked, but Pescht was persistent and worked on the man's guilt. He told the Texan about his family, of watching his children cling to his wife as they undressed, of seeing them march naked and clinging to one another into the gas chambers, screaming back to him for help. In the end he got what he wanted. The colonel did not ask for an explanation; as a Texan, he understood vengeance in ways that many other Americans might not have.

The group left the camp after midnight with only the colonel to see them off, and moved westward, clinging to the forests and hills. While the group lacked a clear idea of what they would do when they were freed, Pescht had a concrete plan in his mind. They would raid farmhouses and small villages at night. There would be no distinctions made between good and bad Germans. All Germans would be fair game; the avengers would use their years of schooling in the Nazi camps to give the civilians a taste of what had been going on inside the fences.

36 – June 4, 1945, 3:00 A.M.

By no standard was the meal a feast, but the group had not had a hot meal since leaving Berlin, and the warmth of the food was celebration enough. Brumm cooked the fish, heads on, over an open flame, sprin
kling them with liberal pinches of the spices and herbs that hung in
small deerskin pouches on the wall near the fireplace. While the trout browned on sticks over the fire, Brumm showed one of the girls some roots in the forest near the dam. When they had an armful, they brought them back and crushed them. Water was added to make a paste. To it he added a sprinkling of brown sugar and slivers of dried apples from a barrel in the storage area. The gluelike concoction was then molded into small flat cakes and toasted in the embers on the edge of the fire. They drank freshly brewed tea made with mountain water and ate in silence, lost in their own thoughts.

After the meal Herr Wolf pulled Brumm aside. "We need to discuss living arrangements," he said mysteriously.

"Such as?"

"I must have complete privacy," Wolf whispered. His statement was half order, half question.

"You can have a room to yourself."

"More than that," Wolf said anxiously. "Nobody is to enter my quarters without my permission. Also, I insist on bathing alone."

"This place affords us many things, but complete privacy is not one of them."

"Nevertheless, I insist on your arranging it." "I can do only so much."

"You will do whatever is required," Herr Wolf said peremptorily. "Now that the immediate dangers have passed, I intend to play
a more active role in governing our affairs. I have always been adept at utilizing the services of specialists. That's what you are; your job was to get us here. Now that we're here, I will assume my rightful authority and the corresponding responsibility."

"If you require privacy, we wil
l do our best to provide it, Fü
hrer."

The word seemed foreign on Brumm's lips. In Berlin it had been natural, but here in the Harz the title seemed out of place. "It will be up to the others what they do. I'm sure that as our commander in chief, you understand that our first duty is to see to the needs of your subordinates. Often the superior must sacrifice for the greater good."

"Don't lecture me, Brumm. I won't have men and women bathing together publicly, and that's final. There are certain values I will not sacrifice for convenience. You will punish those who disobey."

"No," Brumm said firmly. "Let me remind you that I command here. That was our agreement. I hold you to your word. Of course we could submit it to a vote."

"In the military, orders are given and followed," Herr Wolf argued, his voice beginning to weaken.

"That's in the paper-pushing bureaucracy. In the field there is a more democratic process. Soldiers who have a say in their lives fight better and longer. It's one of the first principles taught in modern military leadership."

"Weak leaders take votes," the older man said harshly. "Strong leaders make decisions and act. Those who do not do as they are told are dealt with forcefully."

"Perhaps," Brumm replied, "but this is an unusual situation that requires us to improvise. We will conduct ourselves accordingly."

"You will follow my orders. I insist."

"I will listen to your suggestions, confer with the others and decide what is best for all of us," Brumm said curtly, shutting off further conversation.

Herr Wolf stepped back and studied Brumm. Suddenly his mood shifted completely, and his frown turned to a smile. "I chose very well," he said smugly.

"You made a choice," Brumm said. "Only the future will tell us how good it was. This is my country. Here we do things my way. When we reach our final destination, we'll think about another ar
rangement."

"Very well," Herr Wolf said brightly. "I accept the premise. In the Great War I was a common soldier. I knew how to take orders, and by learning to follow them I learned how to give them. I have not changed. My generals couldn't follow orders. That's why we're here
,
because of my generals. Now I will show you. I order myself to follow your orders." He paused, hoping for a response from the colonel. When none came, he continued, "There. It's done. I have my orders. I'll obey. You'll see."

Brumm could not believe what he was hearing.

"But," whined Herr Wolf, his mood darkening again. "I still de
mand my privacy. You must honor that."

It was not worth additional discussion. Herr Wolf could have his privacy, but Brumm also guessed that the man's demands were only the first of many they would hear.

When dinner was finished, the group was around a pine table talking, drinking tea, watching and listening to the fire. Herr Wolf had insisted on being the first to bathe and had gone into the cavern. All the girls except Waller seemed giddy.

When Herr Wolf returned and went into the bedroom he'd picked out, Brumm asked, "Who's next? Ladies or gentlemen?"

"Don't you mean officers and enlisted?" Waller challenged. "Have it your way. Who's to be first?"

"Do soldiers bathe separately from their officers?" Waller contin-

ued.

"In barracks, yes."

"What about in the field?"

"Together. They share everything in the field." "And where are we?"

"In camp," Brumm answered. Beard and the other girls were smil
ing, enjoying the small contest.

"Agreed. This room is the camp. But the pool?
Not
in the camp."
Waller looked at the other girls. "Agreed?" They nodded with ani
mation.

Brumm stood up, covered his mouth and coughed to clear his throat. He had given them a lecture on mixing while Herr Wolf bathed alone. It was important that they understand the rules and abide by them. "You know the rules: no permanent relationships and no jeal
ousy. We must be adult about this or we will have to take up new rules."

"Enough talk," one of the girls squealed.

Brumm bent slowly from the waist, extended his arm in the di
rection of the hot pool and clicked his heels together. "I bow to the obvious," he said. The Valkyries immediately ran down the hall and into the darkness, howling happily at the prospect of hot baths.

Beard and his colonel lingered at the table. "Are we going to ...

join them?" the sergeant asked.

"Rules of the field," Brumm whispered. "For morale." "Duty," Beard added, seeing the twinkle in his colonel's eyes. "A contribution to esprit de corps."

"Tactical instruction." The sergeant major poked
Brumm in the ribs. "Let's go, Gü
nter," he whispered. "They're liable to turn to each other if we don't hurry up." He laughed deeply at his own joke, his face turning almost scarlet.

Brumm stopped in the tunnel. "Go ahead," he told Beard. "I'll be there in a moment."

"You won't mind if we start without you?" the big man said over his shoulder.

Brumm went back into the supply area and found what he wanted. Looking around the storehouse reminded him how much had gone into preparing the hideaway. It had taken years and countless journeys to provision the small citadel. First it had been for himself, for he had harbored no illusions about the eventual outcome of the war. Then the project had taken on new dimensions. He had never traveled to Stone Cave empty-handed. Once he'd come on horseback, leading a string of army mules laden with supplies. After unloading he'd released the animals in the outer valley. He wondered what had happened to them.

Waller undressed slowly. The other girls were already in the water splashing quietly, talking nervously, helping one another scrub, think
ing about the men who were to join them. Waller liked the feeling of the warm air on her flesh. It seemed natural and nurturing. She tried to remember the last time she had been naked and relaxed, but could not; the past seemed to be another life.

When her clothes were piled at her feet, she stepped to the edge of the pool and tested the water temperature with her foot. It felt warm and inviting. She slid into it, enjoying its caress. It made her skin feel alive and tingly, muddling her ability to think clearly. Since joining the other girls, she had felt compelled to be under control at all times, and it had put a strain on her. Now this self-imposed restraint was losing its purpose. Gunter Brumm was in command; she didn't have to worry anymore. Where was he? she wondered as she lathered herself with soap.

Beard turned his arrival into a spectacle, kicking at the water and shouting at the girls. His appearance immediately enlivened the at
mosphere. Stefanie, her long blond hair plastered to her face and neck, emerged from the water with an athletic leap and playfully began pushing the giant Beard toward the pool, wrestling with him, each of them sneaking exploratory touches of the other as they fought their mock battle. Soon the other girls came out of the water to join her, and the match intensified. Beard was surprised at the fullness of their small bodies, and by their strength. He had planned to let them push him into the water, but he realized that the five of them were going to do it without his help. He also recognized their hunger because he had it as well. Their hands and what they whispered to him were very direct. Finally he slid into the water like a great fleshy ship. At the last moment he tugged and caught all of them off-balance, so that they all hit with a splash that sent waves lapping over the sides of the pool.

Waller watched Stefanie cling to the sergeant as they floated around the pool. Her friend had always been the most direct of them; she believed in reaching out for what she wanted. The sight gnawed at
her. She and her friends were no strangers to sex, but she realized that despite what they had done and been, all of them still harbored dreams of love and of a future binding them to one man. The war had not destroyed that. She did not think about the Fuhrer in this regard, though at times there was something in his eyes that was almost overpowering; he was too old and he was the Fuhrer-unapproach
able, forbidden fruit. What concerned her was the other two men. Six women, two men. Had it been the other way around, she would have felt better. How could two of them handle all of them with regularity?

Actually the problem was much worse. Her concern was
not for two men, but for one, Gü
nter Brumm. She did not want to share him with anyone else.

None of them noticed Brumm arrive. Suddenly he was just there, sitting by the edge of the pool with two large bottles in his hands. His flesh glowed. Waller gasped. He was muscular, almost beautiful. She had never seen anyone like him.

Brumm walked into the water, holding the bottles high by their thick necks. "Champagne," he said, and the girls turned from Beard to him. He settled into the warmth of the pool and drank from a bottle, feeling the liquid warm him from the inside. Soon they were all seated side by side on the underwater ledge, the two magnums being passed up and down the line.

Gretchen Waller refused to allow herself to join in. She drank quickly and too much, and her head began to spin. Suddenly she pushed her way past the others to Brumm, slid her arms around him and pulled him away toward the deeper water.

"I know I can't keep you for myself," she whispered to him, "but at least
I’ll
always remember that I was the first." Wrapping her legs around him, she kissed him hard on the mouth.