“Give thanks to your dog, Gierek,” Jagello said. “We’re not dead yet.”
Chapter 19
Reubold walked quickly through the corridors, keeping his eyes straight ahead, clear of the view into the vast wards with endless beds that held wounded sailors. He accepted his own injuries as a part of life, his life, and had learned to deal with them as well as he could. Even if to deal with the pain of those injuries was to mask it with drugs.
He could not stand to see the suffering that others endured. It was not compassion, it was more primordial than that — it was seeing the helplessness that replaced the vitality of men. It was a hunter, terribly wounded by a beast, surrounded by his companions all thinking the same thing; it was his fault. They shared the secret joy in having, by their own skills and agility, escaped the animal’s attack. They were better than the stricken hunter. But deeper than that, far within Reubold’s mind, was the single thought: That could be my fate, I could be helpless. That testimony was never allowed to overcome the sense of triumph tinged with arrogance in the single thought: I have escaped harm, he has not; I am better than he. But it was there.
Waldvogel shared a room with a mummified form in an adjoining bed. The edges of the mummy’s bandages around his head and neck were stained rust from seeping wounds. Tubes ran into the man bearing clear liquids. Tubes ran out of the man bearing decay. The aroma of corruption hung everywhere.
“Is this he?” a man in a white coat said to Waldvogel in breathless expectation.
Reubold saw Waldvogel propped up in bed. The man, who must have been a surgeon, was standing next to him.
“This is Fregattenkapitan Reubold, Kapitanleutnant Treinies,” Waldvogel said.
Treinies advanced around the bed, preceded by a broad grin and submissive posture. “Fregattenkapitan,” he said extending his hand. “How fortunate I am to meet you. The korvettenkapitan has told me so much about you and of course your exploits are well known throughout the service.”
Waldvogel winced at the kapitanleutnant’s cloying attitude.
“Are they?” Reubold said, taking the handshake with reluctance. He loathed such men. They hovered around the moment that he had become famous, and disappeared just as quickly when fame abandoned him.
“Indeed. Indeed, yes. We follow your missions with great interest here. Of course, our own service to the Fatherland is not without merit.”
“Of course,” Reubold said, trying to withdraw his hand. It was no use. It was trapped in a vise.
Treinies moved within confidential distance. “Did you know that they brought a man in to me that I suspected was a Jew?”
“How would I know that?” Reubold said.
“Of course. Of course you would not know. But I knew. I’ve done a study of such matters. The large nose, the slope of the forehead.”
“That sounds like Mueller,” Reubold said.
“Mueller? Mueller.” Treinies considered the name. “He’s not a Jew, is he?”
“No,” Reubold said. “A lecher. I’ve come to see the korvettenkapitan.”
“Of course,” Treinies said, wrapping one tiny hand over the other, firmly trapping Reubold for the last word. “I must be off. A pleasure, sir. Frau Treinies will be most excited to hear that we’ve met.”
Reubold watched the surgeon leave. “The only thing guaranteed to excite Frau Treinies is her husband’s absence,” he said. His eyes caught the motionless form pinned to the bed by a web of tubes. He pulled a white curtain along the overhead track, covering the scene before he sat down on a chair next to Waldvogel’s bed. “How are they treating you?” he asked.
“Well,” Waldvogel said. “Quite well.”
Reubold studied the bandage wrapped around the korvettenkapitan’s head. “Does it hurt much?”
“At times more than others. I dare not move about too much. They said my skull is cracked. I suffered a concussion.”
“Yes,” Reubold said. “Falling concrete will do that.”
“It was good of you to come,” Waldvogel said. “I know how very busy you are. I can sometimes,” he turned carefully to the window over his right shoulder, “see the harbor from here.”
“Be careful that you don’t see too much of the air raids.”
“They evacuate us,” Waldvogel said. His voice became hopeful. “How are the boats?”
“We’re going out tonight. Don’t tell the enemy.”
“Then the trials were successful.”
“The trials were satisfactory against a stationary target. I’m sure the harbormaster of Cherbourg is pleased that we removed the obstruction.”
“You sound unconvinced, Fregattenkapitan,” Waldvogel said.
“Cautious, Waldvogel. A healthy dose of caution makes for a longer life. If a somewhat duller one.” He pulled a cigarette from a silver case and offered one to Waldvogel. The korvettenkapitan declined. “We did better than I expected. Much better. The doorknocker tracers were a very simple and effective means of sighting on the target. It will take additional training to refine the operation, but we did well. The men did well. Your idea, Korvettenkapitan Waldvogel, was genius.” Reubold smiled at Waldvogel’s shock. “Don’t worry. I won’t give you a medal or kiss you on both cheeks. We have,” he started to speak but was uncertain of what to say. A voice told him to be cautious and in an instant he realized that he could not make extravagant claims. There were far too many variables for him to say categorically it will be a success or a failure. So he was left with an unsatisfying “a chance of success.” He watched the korvettenkapitan. The man truly was humble, an innocent in the wilderness. Waldvogel’s only satisfaction came from solving problems; his reward was achievement, yet in some ways his vision was limited. Reubold thought briefly of Treinies and his pandering; the man saw only what benefited him. Then he thought of himself; he wasn’t sure of what he saw anymore.
“It was very good of you to come,” Waldvogel said when he found his voice.
“Yes,” Reubold said, knowing that he had done nothing that could be attributed to goodness in some time. A thought struck Reubold and before he could stop it, the words were out. “Waldvogel, you trouble me.”
“I? But what have I done?”
“Or rather, I trouble myself. You merely represent some qualities that annoy me.” He laughed at his own reluctance to admit the truth. “How I envy you,” he said. “I race about trying to outrun regrets, hoping to quell the pain that exists in my soul.” He saw what Waldvogel was thinking reflected in the korvettenkapitan’s eyes. “No. The morphine is another matter. Let it be. I belong to it and it to me. But you… you have vision, while I am content to look for the familiar. I suppose that I find some safety in the familiar. Some years ago, I would have found the thought too frightening to consider. I suppose it has come upon me without notice. There was a time in my life when I took what I won, rather than what I was given.” He found it difficult to say the words: “Rather than take the castoffs. What shall we call it? I now embrace mediocrity. Yes?”
“Fregattenkapitan,” Waldvogel began.
“Be quiet, Waldvogel,” Reubold said, “and hear my confession. I don’t expect absolution. In fact I’d throw it back in your face. What I say, I say for selfish motives. Which is how I’ve lived my life. Well, perhaps not quite. I say it also because you should know what you have accomplished. This from your irritating inability to leave well enough alone.” He crushed the cigarette out in a tin ashtray on a table next to Waldvogel’s bed and realized that it was a relief to talk to the korvettenkapitan; even if in the long run it really meant nothing. “I say these things to you for my benefit. There should be equity in life. Balance. Am I speaking of justice? You do well; you are rewarded. You do evil; you die. But such simplicity is too much to expect, I suppose. We go out in a few hours, Korvettenkapitan, to find vessels that shoot back. That will be the real test of your guns’ effectiveness. I have some hope that we will again be amazed. But then, hope has taken her leave of me some time ago.” He stood and smiled at Waldvogel. “So I came to say thank you, and to get well. Personally I would rather be under fire than to face that simpering fool Treinies. Get well soon, Waldvogel. The war isn’t over yet and I think that the fatherland will need your remarkable mind to keep us off the Devil’s Shovel.”