The Cowards Read online

  We were getting closer to the high-school gate. I could see the gatehouse that stood beside it. A soldier with his bayonet fixed was marching up and down in front of the gatehouse. A row of windows on the side of the high school gleamed in the sunshine and here and there a German face stared out. Inside you could hear the quiet buzz of many voices, just as though school was still in session. It always sounded like that in high school during recess. Exactly the same. You couldn’t even tell it was German buzzing. We marched past the house where the Sisters of Mercy lived, straight towards the school gate. Their Franciscan swans’ caps shone whitely behind the closed windows. The sisters were probably crossing themselves. This made me think of death and I started feeling pretty bad again. Christ. Christ! There were the four big windows of the chapel above the school entrance. Memories of how we used to go there every Sunday flashed through my head. My God, maybe there really is a God. And hell and heaven and stuff. Oh God! And heaven’s weeping now. It couldn’t help but weep after all the sins I’d committed. Ever since sixth grade. We sixth-graders used to sit in the first row in chapel and we behaved ourselves pretty well because we were still scared of the religion teacher. But by the time we were in seventh grade we’d already started sinning. We’d moved back to the second row so they couldn’t see us so well from the altar and we weren’t so scared of the teacher any more, and instead of praying and singing hymns we fought and horsed around. During every mass we committed one sin on top of another. And then in eighth grade we were in the third row. Oh, boy! And in ninth grade and so on until we didn’t sit downstairs any more. We had chairs on the platform up alongside the organ. And we’d think up dirty words for the hymns. And we’d egg on Josef Stola who played the organ and he’d play a foxtrot from Rose Marie, for instance, during the elevation of the Host, or ‘San Francisco’, and the religion teacher would even commend him for it. He liked those preludes so much that he recommended Joska to the choir-master at the cathedral but when Joska played there for the first time and had the nerve to play a prelude from Rose Marie, the choirmaster, who played the fiddle on week nights in a town night-club, recognized it immediately, kicked Joska out of the organ loft in the middle of the prelude, and told the teacher on him. So Joska got a D– in deportment and he had to do a lot of penance before he was allowed to play again, in chapel at least.

  Oh Christ! That’s how we’d sinned. And it was wonderful to remember the past – all those memories of high school were wrapped in a sunny haze now. And now there the school stood in front of me, big and yellow, and the Germans were taking me in for my own execution. My legs balked and I got the absolutely crazy idea that I simply wouldn’t go any farther. But I went. I still couldn’t believe what was happening and how it was happening. The high-school gate loomed closer. I looked over at Lenecek. He was white as alabaster now, but he was still holding his head up. Christ! Why act like a hero on top of everything else? But why not act like a hero, after all? What’s the point of being scared to death if there’s no help for us any more anyway? Sure. It’s better to stand up straight when you’re facing a firing squad, and maybe even yell something. No, not that, though. Better not. That’s the kind of thing Chief of Police Rimbalnik would do. No. Ask for a cigarette or something like that. Except I didn’t smoke. And when the officer raises his sword over his head, then make a face at him. If he actually does have a sword, that is. We stopped right under the school motto inscribed over the gate: ‘Cultivate feeling, enlighten reason and, oh school, plant the roots of resolute character!’ Oh God! Or wouldn’t it be better to just forget about being so resolute and get down on my knees and ask forgiveness for all my sins. Except maybe there really wasn’t any God anyway, so why should I? I didn’t want to make a fool of myself like that. Just like I’d never quite been able to make myself make a clear and obvious sign of the cross when I passed the church, like the priest always told us to do. I’d just kind of scratch myself on the forehead and then slide my thumb down over my face and scratch myself again on the chest. Because there might actually be a God after all. But it’s not for sure. If it was, then I’d fall down on my knees right here and that would certainly soften him up. But the thing is, you can’t be sure. So a person’s got to be scared all the time – of God, if there is one, and of looking like a fool if there isn’t.

  The officers went on past us and into the high school. ‘Los,’ said one of the soldiers and we followed them in. Light came through the row of windows and the corridor was clean and bright. We turned off towards the principal’s office and there we stopped. Only the officers went inside. The doors swung shut behind them. Instead of the old name plate, there was a sign there now with the inscription KOMMANDANTUR. I looked at Lenecek. I felt like talking to convince myself that this was all just a joke.

  ‘Well?’ I said.

  ‘We’re in for it now,’ said Lenecek.

  ‘You think they’ll bump us off?’

  ‘I think you can count on that, Mr Smiricky.’

  ‘Jesus!’ I said. All of a sudden the word sounded unpleasantly sinful. So I added, ‘That’s bad.’

  Lenecek didn’t say anything. He was so pale by now he looked almost transparent. The Germans guarding us stood there mute and listless. I wondered whether I shouldn’t say something to them. But what? I looked out the window. The schoolyard looked like it always did. Even the volley-ball net was up. The Germans had probably been playing volleyball. My God, so now it’s all over. So now – and suddenly I remembered my Last Will and Testament. And then I realized that this was it. Instinctively. So now my will would serve its purpose. Irena could read it now. About how I’d never loved anybody else in my life, only her, how I didn’t want anything in the world except now, as she reads these lines, for her to know that everything I’ve done and lived for was important only because it was all somehow for her, that I’d lived and died only for her, and that I’d loved her. And how nothing mattered to me, even dying, because there was no sense in living since she didn’t love me. Tears came to my eyes. I could see her, see her walking behind the coffin and it would really be some funeral, too, because I’d be a hero and it would be a great feeling – only there wouldn’t be any feeling at all! Now was the time for feeling, I suddenly realized, and afterwards, when it was all over for me, I wouldn’t feel anything at all. Brrr! Not that. To hell with Irena. My Last Will and Testament was great when I wrote it. No Last Will and Testament was ever better. To hell with the will. I’d rather stay alive without Irena. She should try dying herself sometime. I didn’t want to. Let Irena do it instead of me. It’d be better if I could go to her funeral instead of her going to mine. That certainly roused plenty of feelings. And what feelings! How sad I would be and crushed and noble and alone. Christ! I’d a thousand times rather be lonely than not be at all. Absolutely. But soldiers with guns were standing around me and that was a bad feeling. I thought about Prema again, wondering if he’d make it. God, let him make it! God, let him get here in time! God, please, please, God, let Prema get here in time!

  Just then the door opened and there stood Dr Sabata. My throat tightened from joy. I forgot all about Prema. Dr Sabata was wearing a black suit and he had his pince-nez on his nose. Dr Sabata. This was great. I felt safe immediately. I’d known it all along. Of course. They couldn’t shoot us. That was all a lot of nonsense. I’d known it right from the start. They couldn’t shoot us, now that Dr Sabata was here. Dr Sabata looked at me sadly and said, ‘Mr Smiricky, what in the world have you been doing?’

  ‘Why, nothing, Doctor. I was at the square and they picked me up,’ I said innocently. Now everything was all right again.

  ‘You provoked them, didn’t you? And you know what the situation is like. I’d thought we could at least depend on you students to be sensible.’

  ‘But I really wasn’t doing anything, Doctor.’

  ‘Look here, Mr Smiricky. We’re negotiating now with the Commander about withdrawing the troops from the town so there won’t be any needless destruction
and you students are making things very difficult for us.’

  ‘I’m really awfully sorry, sir. I really didn’t mean to …’

  ‘Well, all right, I believe you. Mr Kuelpe promised me he’d release you but I had to give him my word of honour that the townspeople will allow the troops to leave peacefully and take their arms with them.’

  I remembered Prema. Jesus! Dr Sabata’s word of honour wouldn’t be worth a damn now. Jesus! All I wanted was to get out of there fast. So I said rapidly, ‘Thank you, Doctor.’

  ‘Don’t mention it,’ said Dr Sabata. ‘But please tell your friends not to do anything imprudent. Everything will be arranged. Just be patient.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. Mayor Prudivy peeked out of the principal’s office. The Kostelec city fathers were negotiating. I knew it. I could see the revolution was in good hands. Dr Sabata shook hands with me. ‘Thank you, Doctor,’ I said.

  He smiled humbly. ‘You’re quite welcome. I’m glad I could help you. Remember me to your father.’

  ‘Yes, thank you, I will.’

  ‘Good-bye.’

  ‘Good-bye.’

  I turned around. Lenecek came over to me. Dr Sabata hadn’t shaken hands with Lenecek. But Lenecek didn’t mind. I noticed he wasn’t so pale any more. We hurried down the stairs to the main floor. It was all over and now I could start living again. And it’d certainly make an impression on Irena. And maybe there’ll be shooting anyway. Now all of a sudden I felt like shooting again. Now that nobody was going to stand me up against a wall and shoot at me. I had a terrific urge to start shooting. I ran down the steps in front of the high school and there I was, out in the bright sunshine. I waited for Lenecek.

  ‘Are you going downtown?’ I asked him.

  ‘No, I’ve got to go home. My old lady’ll have the shit scared out of her already by now. They’ve probably told her.’

  ‘Well, I’m going into town,’ I said.

  ‘Take care of yourself, Mr Smiricky,’ said Lenecek.

  ‘Well, good-bye,’ I said with a smile and held out my hand. He pressed it and his palm was still wet with fear.

  I walked along Rampart Street in the direction of Skocdopole’s warehouse. I saw them as soon as I turned the corner and they looked terrific. Vahar was carrying a flag and the others were clustered around him with Prema in the lead. Prema was holding a submachine gun, all polished and oiled, and he had a leather belt strapped around his waist over his coat with a couple rounds of ammunition in it. Hand-grenade pins stuck out of both pockets. I raised my hand and waved at them. The boys slowed down and stopped.

  ‘What is it?’ called Prema.

  ‘They let us go,’ I said and hurried towards them. Vahar set the flag staff down on the ground. The boys stood there and set the butts of their guns down on the pavement. They were pretty well armed. Perlik had two bazookas and Jerry wore hand grenades draped around his neck like a rosary. I saw Prochazka and Vasek Vostal and Benda and Kocandrle. Benda and Vasek had submachine guns and Kocandrle and Prochazka had automatics.

  ‘Thanks, guys,’ I said.

  ‘So they let you go, huh?’ said Prema and he sounded almost disappointed.

  ‘Yeah. That is, Dr Sabata got us out of it.’

  ‘Sabata was there?’

  ‘Yeah. With old Prudivy. Maybe there were more of them.’

  ‘They came there after you?’

  ‘No. They were there when we got there.’

  ‘What were they doing?’

  ‘Probably negotiating with the Germans.’

  ‘What about, do you know?’

  ‘Dr Sabata said it was about letting the soldiers get out of town.’

  ‘Jesus!’ said Prema. That made him mad. ‘What’re those yellow-bellied bastards fouling things up for?’

  ‘They’re cautious all right. It doesn’t surprise me,’ said Perlik.

  ‘What’re we going to do?’ asked Benda.

  ‘Shall we go after ’em?’ said Vahar in a bloodthirsty tone.

  ‘I don’t think it would make much sense right now,’ I said. ‘Thanks a lot for wanting to help me, but it’d be a pretty risky business now.’

  ‘When do the Germans plan to pull out? Did Sabata say?’ asked Prema.

  ‘No. He didn’t say.’

  ‘If we knew when they were going to pull out we could wait for ’em up on Sugarloaf.’

  ‘Yeah, but if we don’t know?’ said Benda.

  ‘It’s simple,’ Vahar said. ‘We’ll keep our eye on ’em, right?’

  ‘That’s about all we can do,’ said Prema. ‘You don’t know what else they were talking about?’

  ‘I don’t know. But I guess you know that Sabata and Prudivy and the rest of them have some kind of an organization, don’t you?’

  Prema looked at me.

  ‘We know about it.’

  Suddenly I felt hot all over. I’d thought I was going to tell them something new and instead I’d put my foot in it.

  ‘Are you in contact with them?’ I asked.

  ‘Well – yes. I guess it’s safe to talk about that now.’

  It was embarrassing. I knew Prema was mixed up in something. But he’d never really told me anything and I didn’t want to pump it out of him if he didn’t trust me enough to tell me himself. But now the opportunity had arisen.

  ‘I want to join,’ I said. ‘Take me with you.’

  Prema acted very grave. ‘You want to join?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said.

  Prema’s face took on an expression like one of the Founding Fathers’. He was really pretty naïve. I had different ideas about the revolution than he had. I was more of a gangster, whereas he was a real rebel. But I needed a gun and they certainly had them. This was the easiest way to get one. I knew the boys had been playing partisans for two months already and they must have a regular arsenal by now in Skocdopole’s warehouse. Prema shook my hand. Very touching. But I needed that gun. Mutely, I pressed his hand.

  ‘All right, then,’ said Prema. ‘We can use everybody except sissies and old maids.’

  I blushed. It was like something out of a grade-school primer. But I stopped blushing right away. After all, the main thing was that I’d have a gun. Once the shooting started, there wouldn’t be time for a lot of speeches and sentimentality any more. And then it’d probably be great. Even with these guys in their corduroy pants and stubble-beard faces. Even with all this rebel talk. Rebelling had its appeal for me, too. Again I could just imagine the smoke and the shooting and, in the midst of the smoke, Vahar with the flag. It was good.

  ‘Well, let’s pack up again, right?’ said Benda.

  ‘Yep,’ said Prema.

  ‘Let’s go,’ said Vahar. ‘We going to take it all back to the warehouse?’

  ‘Yep,’ said Prema. Vahar picked up the flag and the boys slung their rifles over their shoulders. As they turned, I noticed that Vasek and Jerry had submachine guns slung across their backs, too. Apparently they had a surplus of them.

  ‘Listen,’ I asked Prema. ‘How is it really? Is Sabata running the whole show or what?’

  ‘Yeah. Sabata’s running it,’ Prema said.

  ‘And you have things all planned out already?’

  ‘Well, Sabata’s supposed to give the order over the loudspeaker.’

  ‘For the uprising?’

  ‘No. Just for a mobilization.’

  ‘And when’s the uprising supposed to start?’

  ‘As soon as Cemelik gives the word.’

  ‘He’s a colonel, isn’t he?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  I was silent. Then I asked, ‘And … and do you think Sabata’ll start anything?’

  Prema shrugged.

  ‘And are you really going to wait till you get the word?’ I said. I could tell Prema was fed up.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I’m beginning to have my doubts.’

  ‘Did anybody tell you to collect all these guns and stuff?’

  ‘No. We did it on our own,’ he chuckled
.

  ‘Boy,’ I said. ‘I think Sabata’s scared.’

  ‘I think so, too.’

  ‘I don’t trust those guys anyway. All they care about is saving their own skins,’ I said.

  Prema didn’t say anything for a while. Then he said, ‘We’ve known each other ever since we were kids, so I guess I can trust you, can’t I?’

  ‘Sure,’ I said.

  ‘We’re in this together with Sabata. But if he starts fooling around, we’ll take off on our own, see?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Because I know what a bunch of yellow bastards they are, too.’

  ‘Well, why did you get mixed up with them then?’

  ‘Sabata has connections with Prague.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘But if he starts something funny, we’ll shit on the whole thing.’

  ‘Sure,’ I said. ‘And how’s the mobilization going to go?’

  ‘Aw, that might not be so bad. The loudspeakers are supposed to tell the people to report to the brewery, where they’ll all get guns, and there’ll be instructions, too, I guess.’