pleased if you have a better plan to suggest!'
White-hot with stifled rage the young officer gets to his feet and stares at the Oberst with contempt and hate in his eyes.
'What you suggest is the filthiest thing I've heard of in my life,' he says, harshly. 'To leave our wounded comrades to the mercy of the Bolsheviks is not only treason, but deliberate murder. You talk all the time of saving the group, getting through, as if that means something. Fighting is what means something! Fighting as our German forefathers fought. Most of us will be dead before the Final Victory, but that is unimportant. As long as some of the best live to see it. The cost of that victory will be the greatest price ever demanded of a Fatherland, but a thousand years from now they will look up to those of us who have paid it. You call yourself a German officer. I call you a cowardly wretch. Until this minute I have regarded you as an honourable German soldier who did his duty, respected his oath to the Fuhrer and knew what that oath entailed. I see now that I have been bitterly in error. But I swear to you that as long as I can lift a weapon, your filthy suggestion will not be carried out. If it is it will be over my dead body. I promise you, too, that I shall see to it that you answer to a court martial, if we get back.'
'Are you finished?' asks the Oberst, matter-of-factly. He turns to the No. 2 Company O.C., Hauptmann Bernstein, who remains seated and throws out his arms resignedly.
'Herr Oberst, what am I to say? I await your orders. Whether or not I agree with them is of no importance. I shall carry them out.'
'Is that all?' asks the Oberst, with a resigned smile.
'It is, sir. I cannot see that there is anything to add.'
'Major Pihl, what is your opinion?'
The Major stands up. He is a line officer. That is obvious. He bobs up and down, arrogantly, from the knees, as is the habit of Prussian Guards officers.
'Herr Oberst, I do not understand you,' he trumpets. 'Have you thought your suggestion through properly? That is, nevertheless, no affair of mine. I agree with Bernstein. You give the orders, we carry them out without discussion.' Straight-backed, he sits down alongside Hauptmann Bernstein. He lights a cigarette and appears to take no further interest in the proceedings.
Leutnant Linz from No. 1 Company jumps noisily to his feet, clicks his heels loudly three times and gives the Nazi salute.
'Do you no longer use the Prussian salute, with your hand to your cap?' asks the Oberst, smiling, 'or do you think you are with the SS, Herr Leutnant?'
The tall, thin Leutnant goes red in the face, and kicks shyly at the snow. A lump of it flies into Major Pihl's lap.
'Leutnant Schultz has already said what I have to say, sir!' He clicks his heels again three times and this time salutes in the regulation manner. He takes a seat next to Leutnant Schultz as if seeking safety there.
Leutnant Paulus from No. 3 Company is next. He gets up without unnecessarily theatrical gestures, like the slow-moving Frisian he is. He neither salutes nor clicks his heels.
'Herr Oberst,' he begins, in his slow deep voice, 'I have commanded a company of your regiment for fourteen months now. I know you are not what Leutnant Schultz has accused you of being. I believe that you have not arrived at your decision without long and deep consideration. I am not able to decide whether it is right or wrong. I am under your command and await your orders.' He sits down beside Hauptmann Bernstein, who presses his hand in silence.
Little Leutnant Hansen from No. 6 doesn't much want to state his opinion. Inside he agrees with the Oberst, but he has spent seven months in Torgau for a slight offence and if there is anywhere he does not want to see again it is Torgau. He glances at Leutnant Schultz, who is watching him with ice-cold eyes.
'Well, Herr Hansen,' the Oberst presses on. 'What is your opinion?'
'Herr Oberst, I do not like your suggestion. The enemy will merely kill all
White-hot with stifled rage the young officer gets to his feet and stares at the Oberst with contempt and hate in his eyes.
'What you suggest is the filthiest thing I've heard of in my life,' he says, harshly. 'To leave our wounded comrades to the mercy of the Bolsheviks is not only treason, but deliberate murder. You talk all the time of saving the group, getting through, as if that means something. Fighting is what means something! Fighting as our German forefathers fought. Most of us will be dead before the Final Victory, but that is unimportant. As long as some of the best live to see it. The cost of that victory will be the greatest price ever demanded of a Fatherland, but a thousand years from now they will look up to those of us who have paid it. You call yourself a German officer. I call you a cowardly wretch. Until this minute I have regarded you as an honourable German soldier who did his duty, respected his oath to the Fuhrer and knew what that oath entailed. I see now that I have been bitterly in error. But I swear to you that as long as I can lift a weapon, your filthy suggestion will not be carried out. If it is it will be over my dead body. I promise you, too, that I shall see to it that you answer to a court martial, if we get back.'
'Are you finished?' asks the Oberst, matter-of-factly. He turns to the No. 2 Company O.C., Hauptmann Bernstein, who remains seated and throws out his arms resignedly.
'Herr Oberst, what am I to say? I await your orders. Whether or not I agree with them is of no importance. I shall carry them out.'
'Is that all?' asks the Oberst, with a resigned smile.
'It is, sir. I cannot see that there is anything to add.'
'Major Pihl, what is your opinion?'
The Major stands up. He is a line officer. That is obvious. He bobs up and down, arrogantly, from the knees, as is the habit of Prussian Guards officers.
'Herr Oberst, I do not understand you,' he trumpets. 'Have you thought your suggestion through properly? That is, nevertheless, no affair of mine. I agree with Bernstein. You give the orders, we carry them out without discussion.' Straight-backed, he sits down alongside Hauptmann Bernstein. He lights a cigarette and appears to take no further interest in the proceedings.
Leutnant Linz from No. 1 Company jumps noisily to his feet, clicks his heels loudly three times and gives the Nazi salute.
'Do you no longer use the Prussian salute, with your hand to your cap?' asks the Oberst, smiling, 'or do you think you are with the SS, Herr Leutnant?'
The tall, thin Leutnant goes red in the face, and kicks shyly at the snow. A lump of it flies into Major Pihl's lap.
'Leutnant Schultz has already said what I have to say, sir!' He clicks his heels again three times and this time salutes in the regulation manner. He takes a seat next to Leutnant Schultz as if seeking safety there.
Leutnant Paulus from No. 3 Company is next. He gets up without unnecessarily theatrical gestures, like the slow-moving Frisian he is. He neither salutes nor clicks his heels.
'Herr Oberst,' he begins, in his slow deep voice, 'I have commanded a company of your regiment for fourteen months now. I know you are not what Leutnant Schultz has accused you of being. I believe that you have not arrived at your decision without long and deep consideration. I am not able to decide whether it is right or wrong. I am under your command and await your orders.' He sits down beside Hauptmann Bernstein, who presses his hand in silence.
Little Leutnant Hansen from No. 6 doesn't much want to state his opinion. Inside he agrees with the Oberst, but he has spent seven months in Torgau for a slight offence and if there is anywhere he does not want to see again it is Torgau. He glances at Leutnant Schultz, who is watching him with ice-cold eyes.
'Well, Herr Hansen,' the Oberst presses on. 'What is your opinion?'
'Herr Oberst, I do not like your suggestion. The enemy will merely kill all
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