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Authors: Sven Hassel
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me. I have no idea what I have done to them, but is it any wonder that I gave a shout of terror and took to my heels? I could only conclude that they wanted to murder me, for I could not possibly have imagined that they just wanted to borrow a match and, as I had noticed that one of them Wore a watch, I knew it could not be the time they wanted to know. Then, as I turned a corner at the highest permissible speed, there stood one of these operetta warriors with feathers in his imbecile hat and a paintbox on his chest. When he tried to stop me there was nothing I could do but give him a slight push, but I assure you there was no discourtesy intended. I believe he did fall fairly hard, but if he is still not on his feet I will gladly help to get him to a hospital. After that, a whole flock of these feathered fowl came up howling, exactly like the Indians used to do when on the warpath, according to that lovely book--Herr Major will surely know it-- The Deerslayer , it's called, and if you haven't read it I'll write home to my granny for it, for I know she has it."
"That's enough, Porta," bawled Major Hinka. "Can I have an explanation of the geese?"
"Herr Major," said Porta, and to our great delight tears now began to roll down his dirty face, "I have no idea what geese these people are talking about; but you know yourself how often I am mistaken for someone else. I am the most unfortunate of men, and I am convinced that I have at least two doubles. My granny says so too."
Major Hinka's cheek muscles quivered, but he managed to keep a straight face as, turning to the Hungarian lieutenant, he assured him that Porta would be duly punished for plundering.
That evening Major Hinka also had roast goose.
----
We crawled over and under an infinity of railroad cars and came to a large covered one, the door of which had been sealed with the Wehrmacht's seal. Both seal and heavy padlock were broken, however, and swiftly The Old Un pushed the door aside.
"Take a look at that and tell me what you think," he said.
We almost fell over backward at the sight that met our goggling eyes. Ye gods!--did such things still exist? Tins of pineapple, pears, fillets of beef, ham, asparagus, lobster, shrimp, olives, Portuguese sardines, jars of ginger, peaches. Real coffee and tea, chocolate, cigarettes and wine--white wine, red wine, brandy, champagne. A grocer's shop on wheels, a poem, an Eastern play.
"Almighty God!" gasped Titch. "Who is this truck meant for?"
"You mean, who was it meant for," said Pluto. "Even a monster like you must be able to see that God has guided your steps. And God did not do that for you to stand up on your hind legs and ask silly questions."
The next day when we reached the big freight yard at Bucharest, where we were meant to detrain, Porta disappeared with a case of wine and shortly afterward a switch engine moved our truck across to a remote siding where it was hidden from inquisitive glances. Porta even got a Stabs Feldwebel to fill out a bill of lading for the truck, so that it really belonged to the 18th Battalion.
----
The Glories of the Balkans
We were quartered in the Romanian barracks by the Dombrovitz River, a little way outside the city. One Saturday evening Porta went into Bucharest to play poker with some Romanians of his acquaintance, and he had not returned by the time we had to go on parade on Sunday morning. There was nothing for it but I had to call "Here" in answer to his name.
Pluto's idea was that Porta, having staked and lost everything, including his clothes, was now with some girl waiting for help. The rest of us found that difficult to believe, for Porta was a genius at cheating at cards. The more likely and more disquieting explanation, we felt, was that he had cleaned the others out-- and then been set upon.
As soon as we had eaten we hurried out into the town to try and find him. That was by no means an easy task, since Bucharest is a large city with a million inhabitants. Not only
"That's enough, Porta," bawled Major Hinka. "Can I have an explanation of the geese?"
"Herr Major," said Porta, and to our great delight tears now began to roll down his dirty face, "I have no idea what geese these people are talking about; but you know yourself how often I am mistaken for someone else. I am the most unfortunate of men, and I am convinced that I have at least two doubles. My granny says so too."
Major Hinka's cheek muscles quivered, but he managed to keep a straight face as, turning to the Hungarian lieutenant, he assured him that Porta would be duly punished for plundering.
That evening Major Hinka also had roast goose.
----
We crawled over and under an infinity of railroad cars and came to a large covered one, the door of which had been sealed with the Wehrmacht's seal. Both seal and heavy padlock were broken, however, and swiftly The Old Un pushed the door aside.
"Take a look at that and tell me what you think," he said.
We almost fell over backward at the sight that met our goggling eyes. Ye gods!--did such things still exist? Tins of pineapple, pears, fillets of beef, ham, asparagus, lobster, shrimp, olives, Portuguese sardines, jars of ginger, peaches. Real coffee and tea, chocolate, cigarettes and wine--white wine, red wine, brandy, champagne. A grocer's shop on wheels, a poem, an Eastern play.
"Almighty God!" gasped Titch. "Who is this truck meant for?"
"You mean, who was it meant for," said Pluto. "Even a monster like you must be able to see that God has guided your steps. And God did not do that for you to stand up on your hind legs and ask silly questions."
The next day when we reached the big freight yard at Bucharest, where we were meant to detrain, Porta disappeared with a case of wine and shortly afterward a switch engine moved our truck across to a remote siding where it was hidden from inquisitive glances. Porta even got a Stabs Feldwebel to fill out a bill of lading for the truck, so that it really belonged to the 18th Battalion.
----
The Glories of the Balkans
We were quartered in the Romanian barracks by the Dombrovitz River, a little way outside the city. One Saturday evening Porta went into Bucharest to play poker with some Romanians of his acquaintance, and he had not returned by the time we had to go on parade on Sunday morning. There was nothing for it but I had to call "Here" in answer to his name.
Pluto's idea was that Porta, having staked and lost everything, including his clothes, was now with some girl waiting for help. The rest of us found that difficult to believe, for Porta was a genius at cheating at cards. The more likely and more disquieting explanation, we felt, was that he had cleaned the others out-- and then been set upon.
As soon as we had eaten we hurried out into the town to try and find him. That was by no means an easy task, since Bucharest is a large city with a million inhabitants. Not only
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