“After I left Ehrling with the machine gun, you were already hurt. I did not actually see you get shot.”
Keller rolled his eyes. “Mein Gott.”
“All I said,” Halle explained, “was that when the medical officer sees that wound, it will strike him as self-inflicted, and you will more than likely see a firing squad sooner than get treatment. The powder burns alone will cause him to suspect.”
“There are powder burns because the Russian swine was right in front of me,” Keller fumed.
“I say we take a machine pistol and shoot the whole damn foot off. That won’t arouse the MO’s suspicion,” Braun said.
“Trial by ordeal. That’s quite an alternative,” Angst said. He wasn’t at all sure if Braun was really joking or not.
“I should receive a close combat medal for my participation in the counterattack, and instead of earning the support of my Kameraden, I am to be maimed even further? Is this what you all want?”
“Take your pick. Loose a foot, or be on the bad end of a firing squad.”
“Braun, please, not another word. Don’t even think. Save it for someone who still possesses a rational mind.” Keller lay back, exasperated and clearly in fear for his life. The movement caused him to grimace. Angst had everyone leave the dugout. Once outside, he took Halle aside, so they could speak without having to listen to any side commentaries. “What do you think? You seem to know Keller best.”
“I don’t know. With the shit we’ve been in, a man can get desperate. I don’t want to see him pay for something he didn’t do. The wound could be legitimate. Maybe he was waiting for the perfect opportunity. I was up front. I didn’t see it. We tore through that trench, Angst. If any Russian was still alive, it was by a thread.”
“But do you think Keller is capable? Because if you’re wrong…”
“Then Braun’s idea isn’t half bad. He’ll survive the MO’s inspection. Damn, the bastard will even get to go home. A gimp for the rest of his life, but so what? He’ll be alive. And what about the rest of us? What will become of us? If he did it to himself, spending the rest of his life on one leg will be a constant reminder of what sort of a miserable shit he is and why his squad took his foot.”
“What does this congregation signify?” a voice boomed. It was Lustig. He was taking a tour of the company, assessing the damage and the casualties. Halle, Braun, and Ehrling shrank back, leaving Angst alone to deal with the acting CO. He informed the sergeant of Keller and the dilemma he faced but avoided any mention of removing the wounded man’s leg by nonsurgical means. Lustig listened dispassionately. When Angst was finished, Lustig said, “I don’t see a problem, corporal. If there are any doubts, Keller will be questioned thoroughly by the chief medical officer. The truth will be known, one way or the other, and will be dealt with accordingly. An inquiry will be made, should it be necessary. If all is well, then Private Keller will receive the best medical treatment available to a soldier of the Reich.”
Lustig then collared Halle to find a pair of litter bearers and have Keller evacuated to the rear. “As for the rest of you, continue to keep that ravine under watch. This is far from over. The enemy will re-infiltrate with more artillery spotters. And make sure you locate whoever is still out there causing trouble, so our snipers can fix them once and for all.”
After the squad parted ways, Angst turned over the disc halves and pay books. He was only saving Minnesinger the trouble. Lustig placed the items inside his bread bag, which was already crammed with more of the same and then sat down, wearily, in an empty rifle pit. “A costly day’s work,” he said, referring to the identity discs.
“Should we expect anything more out of the Russians today, Sergeant?” Angst asked.
“They’re spent for the day, I would think. Nothing till nightfall, at any rate. They’ll re-settle the ravine once it cools down and send in probes. Most of the divisional sector is quiet for the moment. But other sections of the line are taking a pounding.” Lustig said.
“Does that come from regiment?”
Lustig nodded. “Especially further south. The Red Army has every intention of taking Stalino, come what may.”
The sergeant became annoyed at himself for prattling on as though he were at a staff meeting. This was the sort of thing he’d admonished Angst for earlier. As for Angst, what he really wanted to know was how the situation concerning the breakthrough was shaping up, only he was too intimidated to ask, despite the NCO’s loquaciousness.
“You and Minnesinger did an admirable job holding the platoon together,” Lustig told him.
“Congratulate Minnesinger. The counter attack was his show. I merely helped,” Angst replied.
“You don’t like to be singled out for praise or recognition, do you, corporal? Something I’ve noticed about you during your stay with the company thus far.”
No, I don’t like either, Angst thought, especially the latter. He preferred to do as he was ordered and made every effort to escape officers’ attention, both good and bad. He had learned his lesson, although now it was too late.
A peal of machine gun fire ripped through the lull and was accompanied by screams of terror. Lustig jumped to his feet and ran. The sound had originated from the platoon’s main dugout. Angst followed, expecting to take part in a skirmish with Red Army shock troops, fanatics, making a last-ditch attempt at incurring as many casualties as possible. Upon their arrival, they discovered it was something far different. Lustig shouldered his way through a knot of grenadiers, mostly those from the assault gun escort, Schroeder and Detwiler among them, their weapons smoking. The Russian prisoners taken in the counterattack lay strewn and bloody in a shell crater near the dugout. Minnesinger and Richter skulked about. Lustig was enraged by the slaughter.
“What is the meaning for this?” he bellowed. The tone in his voice was shattering.
“Getting rid of some dead weight,” Schroeder said, with a flippant air. He did not seem at all afraid of the NCO or his wrath. Detwiler looked down upon his handiwork with unabashed delight. He cradled the weighty MG42 in his muscular arms. The machine gunner had an obvious erection. The bulge in his trousers was shockingly pronounced. Angst had heard barracks gossip that arousal of this sort occurred with some men during and after combat, but he had never lent any credence to the stories. It had to do with some volatile mixture of blood lust and fear that a man had no control over. Nevertheless, Angst was revolted by the spectacle and took a profound loathing to the gunner.
“Did the assault gun commander order this?” Lustig seethed threateningly as he loomed over Schroeder.
“I don’t have to be ordered to do something so obviously necessary.”
“By whose standards is it obvious?” Lustig pressed.
“There are standing orders—” Schroeder began to explain but was silenced as Lustig angrily waved his arm.
“Nothing written down, of course, but passed around by word of mouth so thugs like you can carry out those orders all too willingly. Well, not in my company, and certainly not when I’m around!”
“You weren’t around,” Schroeder snarled. “Besides, they were all clamoring for food and water as if we owed it to them.”
“We haven’t enough to feed ourselves,” Detwiler offered.
“So you killed these men for the sake of a stale rusk and a mouthful of water. Look at these wretches.”