Free The Division of the Damned by Richard Rhys Jones Page B

straw but an abundance of abandoned horse blankets which the men took over as bedding.
    They cleared an area and lit a fire in the middle of the building. The stalls were clean and the blankets had hardly any lice. Compared to Russia, it was almost paradise.
    "Aren’t you off to see to your room, Herr Standartenführer?" sniggered Muschinski.
    "If you’re not careful, Muschinski, you’ll be sleeping in the good d octor’s room with him!” Von Struck replied.
    "Probably in his bed!” roared Henning. They laughed loudly and without restraint. The all-pervading sense of malevolence had lifted with Rasch’s departure and, alone in this their inner circle, they were at ease with one another and their situation.
    “It see ms you don’t think much of the d octor,” said the young Andreas Schneiderat, and muttered to himself , "I know I don’t . ” The room chuckled at the quip and settled down to sorting the bedding out.
    "It’s not that I don’t like him, Andreas. I don’t like all that he stands for. I don’t like a lot of things that Germany now stands for, to tell you all the truth.” He looked up from what he was doing. "But we must soldier on, despite what’s happening back home, for the sake of our families. Ivan wants to do to us what we’ve been doing to him and his people for the last three years. I just pray it doesn’t get that far.”
    All eyes were on him now, wide with cognizance and worry. He, an officer, had said aloud what they had all secretly (and some not so secretly) talked about since the war in the East had taken a turn for the worse. The Russian Army in Germany. Nothing on this earth could compare to the horror of that gathering storm on the horizon. The black clouds of vengeance hung heavily over their loved ones, and all they could do to keep them at bay was fight on. The silence of desperate contemplation stopped all movement.
    "My God, you’re a laugh a minute, you know that?" Rohleder had sensed the mood and he didn’t like it . "Russians in Germany, it’s like saying Americans on the moon! It’s not going to happen, so let’s make our beds and break out the Schnapps, eh, lads?"
    The men all smiled but the strain was still apparent.
    "We’ll get Henning drunk and make him sing, and then you can be miserable!” This time they really laughed and the sombr e moment was gone, for the time being.
    Von Struck sorted himself a bed out and left the men to get some sleep. No sentries, an almost unheard of luxury for the last three years, and a couple of bottles of Ukrainian vodka that Henning and Von Struck had brought with them, would ensure a good night’s sleep for the squad. Von Struck strolled up to the main door.
     
    *  *  *
     
    Rasch waited with growing impatience for the c ount to show. He was horrified by the filth of the hall and now waited alone in a room next to the library. It was a study of sorts, a very dusty study. The degradation of the décor and the furniture confirmed everything to Rasch — that he was dealing with a race far removed from the Aryan ideal at the top of his list. That he should have to stoop so low, even worse, that Germany should have to stoop so low, was a tragedy.
    The c ount walked in. He threw the doors of the study open with a crash that startled Rasch and brought down a shower of dust and old plaster from the ceiling.
    "Guten Abend , Herr Doctor, or should I say Guten Morgen,” he announced. "Have you brought what I need?”
    No introduction, no social niceties, no beating around the bush. Rasch was thrown off guard by the c ount ’s direct and predatory manner, and felt like a rabbit caught in a spotlight’s glare. He had expected old-world manners, not high handed, barefaced demands.
    Rasch stuttered to answer . "I have, Y our Excellency." He pushed his glasses up and stood awkwardly facing the c ount .
    The c ount said nothing and looked at Rasch expectantly. Then, as if extracting a confession from an errant schoolboy, he said,