Free The Night of the Generals by Hans Hellmut Kirst

liked to pretend that he enjoyed choral singing. As a matter of fact, he didn't, but as he once said to a friend: "Men who sing can't think, and men who can't think make congenial subordinates--so let them sing. It makes a senior officer's job that much less complicated."
    Kahlenberge often sat and listened to the G. H. Q. choir going through its paces. This choir--a male voice ensemble, needless to say--was drawn from every branch of the Corps Commander's staff. The sergeant cook was a member, as was the chief of the map-making section; clerks sang beside technicians, the leading tenor was a signaller and the mightiest bass belonged to a medical orderly. The choir-master's duties were performed by a dentist who enjoyed a great reputation as a festival conductor in his home town. He conducted with verve and endurance but wasted no time on musical subtleties.
    "Westerwald!"General Kahlenberge called encouragingly.
    The choir, which had just been allowed a short break for throat-clearing and nose-blowing, set to again with a will. Kahlenberge leant back comfortably in his chair and stretched his legs. The other ranks' mess hall in the cellar of the Liechnowski Palace, which provided the venue for this prodigal outpouring of emotion, seemed to quake.
    Without warning, the singers' fervour suddenly redoubled in intensity. Kahlenberge was at a loss to explain this phenomenon until he swivelled round in his seat and beheld the G.O.C. He rose to his feet with decorum and came to attention. The choir continued to sing lustily of the wind that blew so cold in the Westerwald.
    The G.O.C. took his Chief of Staff by the arm and led him out into the cellar passage. When von Seydlitz-Gabler treated one of his subordinates with this degree of intimacy his motives were bound to be interesting. Kahlenberge's eyes began to gleam like those of a cat scenting a plump mouse.
    "A splendid choir," declared von Seydlitz-Gabler.
    Kahlenberge nodded. "Practice makes perfect."
    The G.O.C. cleared his throat. "We Germans have an inexhaustible repertoire of choral music. I'm particularly fond ofLützows wilde, verwegene Jagd."
    "We'll practise it," Kahlenberge assured him. His curiosity mounted.
    "Choral singing is an embodiment of the purest German traditions. It's not surprising that all our most characteristic virtues can be found in it--profound romanticism, for instance, and boundless love of nature, especially the German forests. Unquestioning loyalty, too."
    Kahlenberge smiled. Digressions of this sort meant that something quite extraordinary was in the offing, but the G.O.C. was finding it patently difficult to steer the conversation round to it. "Let's go into the inner courtyard," said von Seydlitz-Gabler eventually.
    The inner courtyard boasted a fountain, a stretch of lawn and some comparatively unobjectionable early baroque cloisters. Here the G.O.C. liked to pace up and down in peace and seclusion, lost in thought processes which he deemed creative, and here, once he and Kahlenberge were safely within its precincts, he turned on his Chief of Staff with the air of a man about to impart a revelation. "Imagine it, Kahlenberge! That man Grau is sitting in my outer office!"
    "Not for the first time, sir, surely?" inquired Kahlenberge drily.
    "No, no, but he's sent a message asking permission to put some questions to me--in an official capacity! What do you think of that?"
    Kahlenberge could not find the right words at first--he was so surprised and delighted. With relish, he mentally reconstructed the sequence of events. Grau had turned up in the outer office and announced that he proposed to ask the G.O.C. some official questions--and the G.O.C. had promptly raced out of the back door and gone to find his Chief of Staff. "What a remarkable thing," he commented ambiguously.
    "Something must be done--and quickly!"
    "But why, sir?" Kahlenberge's tone was innocent.
    "Now see here, my dear chap!" The G.O.C. drew himself up imperiously as though