The Cowards Page 7

  ‘Okay, Irena, I know. Not much I can do about it, is there?’

  ‘But you’re not angry, are you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You mustn’t be angry.’

  ‘I’m not. I’m something else, though.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’m in love with you,’ I said.

  She drew back her hand and her smile changed. ‘You …’ she said.

  ‘Terribly in love with you.’

  ‘That’s nice.’

  ‘I love you and I worship you and I want you.’

  Irena started to laugh. Then she spoke in a changed tone.

  ‘Save some of your energy, Danny. Maybe you’ll need it for something else.’

  I could see right through her. I could tell it made her feel good. Oh, I knew her. It flattered her, hearing all that over and over. It must be a nice feeling to know somebody’s in love with you. But to be in love was also nice, which was why I was.

  ‘Look,’ said Irena all of a sudden.

  ‘What is it?’ I said, and looked up at her. She was looking out over my head towards the square. I turned around. The sun stood blazing above the castle, flooding the square with its white light. The church cast a dark shadow on the cobblestones and as the crowd eddied around it, the women’s dresses flashed as they moved out of the shadow into the sun. But that wasn’t it. Something was going on. People were milling around on both sides of the church. They were running away from the square behind the church and jamming the streets on either side of the square. Something was going on behind the church but you couldn’t see what. Clusters of people had stopped in front of the post office to stare. All I could see was the backs of people’s heads, tilted hats, and dishevelled hairdos. Soon it was almost deserted on both sides of the church. I watched Mrs Salacova, the lame seamstress, swinging along fast on her crutches. My curiosity was aroused. From around the left side of the church a soldier emerged with fixed bayonet and the square grew silent. The soldier advanced slowly in his grey helmet and jackboots, an ominous figure. A second one came out close behind him. Then from behind the other side of the church more soldiers appeared. They moved forward, fanning out around the church. Some held submachine guns, others rifles with fixed bayonets. They came on quietly, slowly, steadily. Behind them, the square was empty. The crowd silently pressed back into side streets and doorways. Mrs Salacova hurried along frantically on her crutches. I watched her go. Her body swung in frenzied arcs like a pendulum or as if she was doing calisthenics on the parallel bars. She was going as fast as she could, but not fast enough to escape the soldiers. The fan slowed down behind her. I could see that the soldier who was driving her on didn’t know what to do. He was embarrassed. He didn’t know whether to pass her and let her go on behind him or wait until she’d hobbled into some doorway. He slowed down and soon the whole column came to a standstill. The soldiers on the other side of the square were nearly half-way across it now. Officers with drawn revolvers moved up behind the soldiers. I heard them yelling something at the people who still hadn’t managed to find a place to duck into. I looked over at Mrs Salacova again. She was nearly home. She had a little store in one of the houses on the left side of the square. The soldier with the submachine gun slowly trailed her. He looked like a Boy Scout doing a good deed, as if the gun was hers and he was just carrying it home for her. It was quiet, except for the officers yelling on the other side of the square and, in the distance, the squeak of Mrs Salacova’s crutches. They were a couple of steps away from her shop. She made three more lurches and vanished inside. The soldier turned and hurried along the row of houses to the end of the street. Behind him came an officer brandishing a revolver in his gloved hand. The two advancing columns had already circled the church and joined up in a single row. The end men stopped at the corners where the side streets entered the square while the centre fanned out swiftly. The last remnants of the crowd dashed past me behind the post office towards the old ghetto and shoved through the doors into City Hall. It was quiet. Behind the soldiers the square was completely empty. Apparently they’d come from the emergency hospital behind the church where part of the Kostelec garrison was stationed. The rejoicing of the crowds had probably made them mad. The officers, anyway. My impression was that all the soldiers really cared about was clearing out before the Russians arrived. These last days anyway. They couldn’t get out fast enough. But the officers wouldn’t budge. Discipline to the bitter end. No matter how pointless – order and discipline right up to the end. And the soldiers obeyed. That much had been drilled into them. More soldiers appeared in the empty half of the square. They advanced in dead silence. They were sullen and ready for combat. Ammunition belts bounced against their chests and hand grenades jutted out of their boot tops.

  ‘Danny!’ said Irena nervously. I could tell right away she was scared.

  ‘What?’ I said without turning around.

  ‘Danny, come inside!’

  ‘Wait a while.’

  ‘Danny, please come inside. You can’t kid around with them.’

  ‘Don’t worry.’

  ‘Don’t be crazy, Danny.’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry, Irena. If I just stand here, they won’t even notice me.’

  ‘Danny, please. Don’t be silly.’

  I turned slowly and looked her in the eye. She was really scared. For me. I could tell she was scared, but on the other hand this was something I couldn’t understand. I’d never been scared for anybody else. Just for myself. I didn’t know what it was to feel that way. I couldn’t understand how anybody could care that much about somebody else. Whether something was going to happen to somebody else, I mean. If somebody else was in a bad spot, I felt bad too, but I didn’t know what it was to be scared for them. What’s the sense in being scared, anyway? After all, nothing can happen except what happens to me. And you can stand everything else. I felt completely alone. I wouldn’t have been scared for Irena. Why should I ever be scared for her? I wasn’t really in love with her anyway. Or rather, I was in love with her because there wasn’t anything better. When it came to things to be in love with, there was always a chronic shortage. And so I was in love with Irena. She wasn’t in love with me and I loved her, but it didn’t really matter that much to me. I looked straight at her.

  ‘Are you scared?’

  ‘Danny, please, don’t put on an act.’

  ‘Are you?’

  She looked over my head and there was fear in her eyes.

  ‘Danny, come inside. This is no joke!’

  ‘Are you scared?’

  ‘Yes, sure I am.’

  ‘On account of me?’

  ‘Oh, please, Danny, you know I am.’

  ‘But you don’t love me?’

  ‘Danny, please come inside.’

  ‘But you don’t love me, do you?’ I said slowly.

  Her eyes looked terrified. I was hamming it up. See, Irena, nothing matters to me. Let ’em shoot me for all I care, if you don’t love me. Let ’em hang me, see? I gazed at her fixedly. All of a sudden her eyes started following something that was very close behind me. I could feel there was something behind me. And I knew what it was. I got the feeling again that I had a bullet in my back. And I also had the feeling that I’d put on a wonderful act for Irena, that I’d given a great performance. Irena’s eyes followed whatever it was with terrified attention, her mouth half open. I turned, leaned back against the post office and stuck my hands in my pockets. I felt like the whole world was watching me. There in front of me, quite close now, stood a soldier aiming his submachine gun straight at me.

  ‘Also los,’ he said, but he didn’t move. He had a broad, beefy face and grey stubble on his chin. He had a gas mask slung over his shoulder and the grey head of a German bazooka stuck up above his ear. He was an old guy. A hand grenade was stuck in each boot and he looked as if he didn’t know what to do. I gave him a friendly, cocky grin. He stepped up close. There was fear and bewilderment in his eyes. He was scared. He was scared o
f what was going to happen today or within the next few days. But he was also scared of the officers behind him. He stepped up to me and said in a confidential tone, ‘Schauen Sie, es hat doch keinen Zweck. Gehen Sie weg bitte.’

  Suddenly I felt sorry for him. He kind of trusted me. I don’t know what I would have done if he’d yelled at me, but he had so much trust in me I didn’t want to disappoint him.

  ‘All right,’ I said and took my hands out of my pocket. He stood there in front of me, waiting. I buttoned my jacket and figured I’d set off, slow but sure, around the corner.

  ‘Well, so long, Irena, I’ll be back,’ I said, and started off.

  But as I turned towards the side street which led past the post office, I bumped into another soldier. He was wearing an Iron Cross ribbon in his buttonhole. An officer. I raised my head and looked him right in the eye. He had narrow, cold, Germanic eyes. He looked as if he’d never had a human feeling in his life.

  ‘Was ist hier los?’ he said menacingly. ‘Haben Sie nicht gehört?’

  That made me mad. I knew these guys were done for. I didn’t feel scared at all. Just that it was all over. The finale. I made a face.

  ‘Shut up!’ I said and squinted at him. I hadn’t meant to say it in English. It just slipped out. Funny. I always reacted in English to all that German bellowing. Even when I was working at the factory, only then I said it under my breath. This time I’d said it out loud.

  ‘Was?’ howled the officer.

  ‘Shut up,’ I said quite logically. I stood opposite him with my hands in my pockets again.

  ‘Na warte, du Schwein, du!’ screamed the officer, and grabbed hold of my jacket with his left hand. He was holding a pistol in his right hand. I grabbed for it. He jerked me to one side. He was awfully damn strong. I tried to get my footing but couldn’t. He shook me back and forth. A mess. A real mess. I must have looked pretty silly. And Irena was watching. I braced myself once again but had to spread my feet wide apart and let my knees sag. I looked ridiculous and what made it worse was that it all had to happen right in front of Irena. The officer gave me one more sharp jerk and let go. I lost my balance and fell over. I could feel I was blushing. Oh, God. Damn it. What a mess. I lay there on the ground. They’d caught me. Like a farmer catching a little kid stealing pears. It was anything but fun. Damn it, it wasn’t fun at all. I blushed with shame. I thought about getting up and jumping that officer, but quickly dropped the idea. He was awfully strong. He’d just throw me again. Maybe he’d knock me around and that would be even more humiliating. Oh, I’d really messed things up. I looked up. The officer was standing over me and brandishing a pistol in front of my face.

  ‘Aufstehen!’ he ordered icily. I decided to preserve at least a remnant of decorum. I got up slowly and, as I rose, brushed off my jacket, taking my time about it. I felt I’d brushed off the bad impression I’d made, now that I looked decent again. In the movies, the hero always gets the first punch. Slowly I drew myself erect. The officer was watching me with cold scorn. He raised the muzzle of his revolver.

  ‘Hände hoch! Schnell!’

  I knew how to do that. Like they did it in Chicago. I could see myself like in a gangster movie. I was glad I was wearing such a sharp-looking jacket. I grimaced and slowly raised my hands over my head. Taking my time. And not too high. I bent my arms at the elbows and raised my palms so they came to about my ears. Nice and slow. I stood there with my feet planted wide, watching the officer. I felt like Al Capone and the square looked like Bloody Corner after a gun battle with the cops. Soon the G-men would come and take me away. I stared the officer right in the eye. I held his eye but it seemed to me as though all his anger had gone out of him. Naturally he’d had a steady diet of discipline, but after all, Hitler was dead and the Russians only a few miles away. It seemed to me he was looking at me with disgust. I gave him a sneering smile. The officer turned away. Behind him stood two guys with submachine guns.

  ‘Haftnehmen!’ said the officer. The two guys stepped up to me, one on each side. I turned around.

  ‘Los. Gehn Wir!’ one of them said. We started off. I turned around to see Irena. She was standing in the window, one hand clenched to her mouth. I made a face and winked at her.

  ‘Danny!’ she screamed hysterically.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ I called to her.

  ‘Los, los!’ said one of the guys beside me and grabbed my arm. I tried to turn around again to see Irena, but he yanked me back. The other one grabbed my other arm.

  ‘Let me go. I’ll walk by myself,’ I said in broken German.

  ‘Na gut,’ said the guy on my left and let go of my arm. I looked at him and saw he was the same beefy-faced soldier who’d talked to me before.

  ‘Machen Sie keine Dummheiten, es hat doch keinen Zweck,’ he advised me again in a confidential tone.

  ‘Okay,’ I said and went quietly with them. They led me to the church. A couple of soldiers and one civilian were standing in front of the door to the choir loft. We came closer. I recognized him. It was Lenecek, the hairdresser. Another patriot. So they’d picked him up too. He was pale as death and looked solemn. I winked at him. He smiled gloomily and then looked as glum as before. My soldiers put me beside him.

  ‘What’d you do?’ I whispered.

  ‘I slugged one of them. And you?’

  ‘Oh, something like that.’

  We stopped talking. We stood by the church and the sun shone down on us. The church had a nice, massive, flaking, yellow-painted wall. Hell, I thought, they might stand us up against that wall! But when I looked at Lenecek, it didn’t seem possible. I couldn’t picture him slumping over, crumpling up. Too crazy. Or me either. Crazy too. They’d lock us up and let us out in a couple of days. But it would be a damn shame to be locked up now. I looked over at the officers. They were conferring about something. Lenecek stood there, white-faced and motionless. The officers’ conference broke up and they looked over at us. My heart was in my throat. They were going to line us up against the wall. Jesus! Suddenly I was scared. Not that, for Chrissake, don’t do that! Anything but that! One of the officers gave an order of some kind and the soldiers lined up, a group on each side of us. Oh God! Oh damn! They’re taking us off now. Lenecek turned even whiter.

  We started off. Oh God! Oh God! Oh Jesus! This was really bad. We marched out of the square at a brisk pace. You couldn’t even take your own sweet time. I had to step along like in some kind of fireman’s parade. Jesus! You ought at least to be able to go to your death elegantly. We turned off on the street that led past the Sokol* Hall. Yes. They were taking us to the high school. That was where the garrison was. And they’d shoot us in the courtyard. Oh Jesus! The street was empty. Our steps echoed rhythmically. The doorways were jammed with people. You could tell they were scared. We went past them. I looked at them, huddled and trembling in the doorways, and I couldn’t help making a face at them. The fools! Safe as houses and still scared shitless. And here we were, being led away to our execution. A chill ran down my spine. Just then I saw Lucie. She’d poked her head out of Manes’s store. She saw me. I saw how surprised she was – astonished. Good. I stuck one hand in my pocket because I knew that made nice folds in my jacket and I gave Lucie a big smile. Then I noticed Haryk watching behind her. And Pedro Gershwin’s face above Haryk’s head. One on top of the other, those three heads, and they were looking at me and didn’t know what to say. I grinned and nodded my head at them. They gaped back at me stupidly. Then we passed them. Lenecek marched alongside me, his head held high. Almost too high. It looked as though he had a crick in his neck. Otherwise he held up well. We hurried down a narrow street and past the savings bank and around the print shop. Everybody was watching us. And past Sokol Hall. All our friends were watching us. We were national heroes. We marched along and everybody knew us and we were surrounded by silent Germans in their grubby uniforms, draped with weapons. St Matthew’s Church rose beyond the viaduct and behind it the big yellow high-school building. My heart dropped, then r
ushed back up into my throat again. Boy, was I scared! Oh, Jesus God, this was all wrong! I certainly didn’t feel like dying. Not even for my country. My country could get along without my life but I couldn’t. Oh, this was bad. Now maybe Irena would reconsider. Now maybe she’d drop Zdenek and start going with me. It would really be dumb to have to die now. My God, would it ever!

  We went past Welch’s stationery store towards the viaduct. We were getting closer to the high school. I looked frantically around me. There was nobody there. Not a soul. And then all of a sudden my heart started jumping around inside my chest. Prema was heading towards us from under the viaduct. His pockets were stuffed with something and then he saw me and stopped. Behind him Jerry and Vasek Vostal appeared and a bunch of other guys. I could tell that Prema understood right away what was going on. He just looked at me and I looked at him. One glance was enough. Then he whirled around and said something to the boys. Prema! We turned off around the viaduct. Prema waited. By now it was clear we were going to the high school. I stared hard at Prema. Prema nodded and gave me the V-for-Victory sign. Prema was great. Then all the boys ducked around the corner and started to run. The path behind the viaduct was the shortest way to Skocdopole’s warehouse. There were guns there. That I knew. My brain started working again. I quickly calculated how long it would take them to get to the warehouse. Then how long it would take before the Germans had led us into the big schoolyard and shot us. If they had some kind of ceremony first, the boys might just make it in time. Awfully risky. But terrific, too. So this was how the Kostelec revolution was going to start. All on account of me, really. Yes. Great. I tried to picture how it would be when the boys would turn up. A shot. An explosion. Part of the high school blown up and falling in. We’re standing up against the wall facing a row of armed Krauts, and all of a sudden part of the high school blows up and boys jump over the fence into the yard, carrying rifles and submachine guns. They had them too. Prema told me they’d disarmed a whole platoon of Germans some place. I believed him because Prema didn’t kid around. I could just see them jumping over the principal’s garden fence through the smoke and dust and hollering. And the Germans throwing away their guns. Or, no – they’d fight back. And the two of us would dash away from the wall, I’d jump that officer and now he’d be all mixed up and I’d sock him in the eye and take away his revolver and we’d move in on them from all sides. Lenecek would tell Irena all about it afterwards when she’d go to his shop for a permanent. I could just see those Germans huddled together and then moving back against the wall of the gym and we’d be blasting away at them and they’d drop, one after the other. And then I saw Prema, saw him taking an old egg-shaped Czech Army grenade out of his pocket, pull the pin, count three and pitch it, and the grenade exploding right in the middle of the huddle. Germans fall in all directions, their weapons drop from their hands and we move through the high-school yard, our guns smoking, and so the Kostelec revolution begins.