Iron Gustav (38 page)

‘Absolutely right! Or have you other suggestions?'

‘And the people? I don't know if you've yet noticed that they are almost starving? That thousands are dying of flu every day? They call it starvation flu. What do you intend to do for the people?'

‘My dear Bubi, please don't shout at me. You know very well that the Social Democratic Party has something like a programme. It is pretty long, and I cannot possibly recite it to you. If I remember right, it contains something about an eight-hour day, the socialization of factories, and tariff reform …'

‘And you want to achieve that?'

‘Of course. Definitely. Gradually, in good time, it will all be achieved.'

‘In that case,' and Bubi almost shouted, ‘you haven't a clue! You simply want to be in power!'

‘Of course we do,' shouted Erich back. ‘Power! If we only have power, everything else will follow. First, power!' And he stood there, triumphant, beaming … And gave a violent start. There was a loud
rattle like a hailstorm on a roof, a horrible whizzing sound, glass crashing, voices shouting.

‘Take cover!' cried Erich. ‘Under the table! They're firing on the Reichstag.'

In a moment all three were on their hands and knees, crawling under the big oak table – not a second too soon, for the panes in their room were shattered and the fragments fell with a clatter. Something struck the frame of the door and they held their breath – but the stream of bullets had passed on.

‘We should have put the light out,' said Erich peevishly. ‘Now they'll keep on peppering the room.'

Irma laughed, a rather unnatural laugh. It had been a bit too much of a shock. ‘Now, Mr Hackendahl, do you mind whether it's a broken exhaust or a machine-gun?' she asked bitterly.

‘We're well under cover,' said Erich cheeringly. ‘They can't do anything.' Having been in the trenches a few weeks he was much the calmest of the three and not at all scared.

‘Are those your friends, the sailors, who are shooting?' asked Heinz, trying to speak naturally.

‘Don't think so. It's coming from the right. Someone told me that officers loyal to the Kaiser had barricaded themselves in the Architekten-Haus, so perhaps they've got a machine-gun on the roof. Well, our chaps will soon deal with little jokes like that … Listen, they're starting already!'

In the Reichstag scattered shots rang out. Then a machine-gun rattled and the first one replied to it. There was more crashing of glass and a whistle was heard.

‘Let's hope it quietens down soon,' yawned Erich. ‘I must admit I'd like to be in bed early.'

‘We have to go home too,' Irma reminded Heinz.

‘Yes, that's true,' said Erich casually. ‘I hadn't forgotten about taking you home. I've got a car – a service car, of course. Now don't think—'

‘I
understand all right,' grunted Heinz. ‘Just a service car. Private car soon, what?'

‘Possibly,' yawned Erich. ‘Father all right? I could say how d'you do to him then.'

‘Made of iron, Erich, as you know. People have told him so often he's “Iron Gustav” that he really believes it now. But he's vastly changed, all the same.'

‘Changed? In what way? More approachable?'

The machine-gun on the Architekten-Haus had not yet been silenced, and was spraying the front of the Reichstag once more. Nearer and nearer came the crash of broken glass until it reached their windows. Irma gave a cry.

‘Don't worry, little Fräulein, we're in the blind corner,' Erich reassured her.

The firing withdrew elsewhere.

‘No,' said Heinz thoughtfully. Sitting under the table, as if they had become children again, encouraged him to talk. ‘Father hasn't become less severe, actually. I should say more obstinate and dogmatic if anything, especially now he's driving again.'

‘Driving?' cried Erich indignantly. ‘What nonsense! Why's he doing that?'

‘To earn money, Erich.'

‘Earn money? What's he got the other drivers for?'

‘But, don't you know?' Heinz was gaping with surprise. Then he began to understand things a little.

‘Know what? Come on, tell me. I suppose everything's in a frightful muddle at home and it's time I came and looked after you all.'

‘Splendid! And don't forget to bring some money, Erich. Put money in your purse, the need is urgent.' Heinz did not hide the sneer. He now understood why his brother had been so friendly.

‘Money?' Erich, preoccupied with what he had heard, paid no attention to the sarcasm. ‘Money? Don't talk nonsense, Bubi. Father's a prosperous man. I always put him down for a quarter of a million marks at least.'

‘All right – ask him yourself about his quarter of a million then.'

‘But the money can't be all gone.'

‘I don't know.'

‘Bubi,
what's wrong at home? What's happened? God, I should have known that he didn't understand anything about money matters. I ought to have looked into it sooner. Tell me, what's left?'

‘A cab, the broken-down old grey, an apartment house so heavily mortgaged that the rents don't cover the interest …'

‘But the capital? The capital!'

‘I believe Father's got twenty or twenty-five thousand marks in War Loans – if he's still got it.'

‘It's impossible. Where's the money gone to?'

‘I dunno. Very likely Father never had any more. He used to earn a good deal.'

‘You'll have to tell me all about it.' Erich was now really disturbed. ‘Come with me for a bit and tell me as we go along. And please come too, Fräulein. All's clear now, they're only shooting a little among themselves. Now don't refuse, Bubi. You'll do me the favour, won't you? I must really know how things stand. Frankly, I had counted on getting something from Father. I'm just furnishing my place – you must come and have a look at it. And I'll introduce you to my lady friend. Wait till you see! You don't need to hesitate, Fräulein; she's a very nice little Frenchwoman – doesn't bite … Twenty thousand marks in War Loans! It's incredible.'

Yes, Erich was really disturbed. He still had to telephone, give orders. The car was due to draw up on the shadowy side of the Reichstag building, along the Spree. Then it turned out that all was not well with their passes. You apparently had to have passes for all possible parties. There were difficulties with the ones they had.

Hardly had they sat in the car – incidentally very new and apparently a private vehicle – but Erich started up again: ‘Well, Heinz, I'm counting on you to tell me the truth. Mother once told me in a letter that Otto had married just before he was killed. Some kind of crippled needlewoman. I dimly recall seeing her once at home. Did she perhaps pump father? Cripples are often damned avaricious.'

‘They're not the only ones,' answered Heinz mischievously.

The
car with the Hackendahl brothers passed through a Berlin dark and almost deserted, except for the occasional sound of firing that died away almost immediately, however. They were approaching the West End, the exclusive, almost feudal, West End.

At about the same time, another car was setting out for the west of the city, the smart west, for Zehlendorf, Schlachtensee and Dahlem. It was also a car in which sat a child of old Hackendahl, of Iron Gustav. Sat? No, stood!

There were numerous obstacles to be overcome before the smart, almost new car reached its destination, although it held the future secretary of one who would soon be a minister – time after time it was stopped, searched for weapons and its occupants made to produce their papers. Heinz had frequently to interrupt the urgently desired account of old Hackendahl's finances …

The second vehicle, a battered grey lorry, did not trouble to hide its weapons – on the contrary. At back and front stood machine-guns ready to fire. And all its occupants – some in field-grey, others in civilian clothes – were heavily armed, except one. But no sentry stepped out of the shadows and signalled with his lantern, confiscated the arms or asked for papers. Unmolested, the big lorry rattled towards the West, a red flag waving above it. Among wild-looking men stood a pale and trembling woman – Eva Hackendahl.

After a hurried and awkward parting from her brother and his girlfriend, Eva Hackendahl had gone home feeling almost happy. The little argument, of which she had understood little, had cheered her up.

It really isn't so easy with little Gertrud, she had thought. She'd almost thrown him out! Out with you! That was what she'd said to him. I always seem get on best with her – much better than with that wretch who thinks he's so clever.

This thought of being above everyone else shortened her long walk to Augsburger Strasse. She was almost happy when she entered her room. But, opening the door of her room, all happiness was ended for her in that same moment. The light was burning; on her
bed, fully dressed, a sports cap on his head, a cigarette between his lips, lay Eugen, with his dirty shoes on her pretty lace counterpane.

‘Well, Evchen, been workin'? Good girl! Where's the customer?'

‘Eugen,' she whispered, ‘you back again?'

‘Come on, let the customer in,' he replied. ‘Don't keep the gentleman waiting. Or perhaps you haven't been workin'?'

‘I was just visiting a relative, Eugen. Just for a few minutes.'

‘Relative, eh? You've still got relatives? Haven't I drilled into your head that I'm your family and no one else? Come here!'

Terribly afraid, she approached him slowly.

‘Hurry up. Or have I got to hurry you?'

She was now standing beside the bed. Terror-stricken, she looked into eyes bright with fury and malice.

‘Kneel down!'

She did so.

‘Ashtray!'

‘Oh Eugen, please! Please don't. You'll burn my hand again. I can't stand it. I shall scream.'

‘Oh, will you? So you'll scream when I tell you not to, eh? Ashtray!'

Trembling, she held out her hand.

‘Eugen, dear dearest Eugen, please don't! I've been saving up money for you, I've opened a savings account, really I have. I've worked so hard. I've saved up four hundred and sixty-eight marks for you. Please, Eugen!'

‘Indeed,' he said. ‘So you've saved something for your Eugen? That true?'

‘Oh, it is true, really. I can prove it.'

‘Prove it, then, you fool.'

She jumped up, ran to the wardrobe and looked for the savings book hidden in her linen. Gone! She searched feverishly. Where could she have put it? The other girls – no, they wouldn't do a thing like that … Very pale, she turned to look at him.

‘Well?'

‘It isn't there, Eugen. Did you—'

‘What's that?'

‘Eugen. Please, Eugen.'

‘Come
here!'

‘Oh, I …'

‘Come here!'

She went as she had always done. She knelt when he ordered her to, she did what he wanted, she endured all he inflicted.

He watched her get herself ready.

‘Put a coat on! No, not a swell one like that. Where's your old brown one? Given it away? What d'you mean givin' away my belongings? All right, you wait! What money have you got? Hand it over! That all? What else you got? A watch? Lor! and a wristwatch too! See what happens when the old man's away! Shove everythin' in your handbag – you won't be coming back here.'

Silently she went downstairs with him. He whistled for a taxi. After some time they stopped in a dark street, where he dismissed the taxi.

They stood there alone. Gripping her by the arm, he brought her face close. ‘I'm taking you to my friends. They want some fun now and then too, you understand? You won't mind that, will you – you cold bitch?'

‘No.'

‘Good! An' they're all out of Brandenburg, like me – pretty smart chaps. Don't you make a fool of me, you halfwit.'

‘No, Eugen.'

‘That's all, except – keep your trap shut! You're not there to talk. In you go now, you fool!' And he pushed her into a dark hallway so suddenly that she almost fell.

For Heinz the night had become increasingly unreal and dreamlike. There had been the long, cold trip in the car and an Erich at last convinced that this time he had completely miscalculated and had nothing whatever to expect from his father, a conviction which at once changed him from a comparatively polite and interested brother into an inconsiderate and bored stranger. ‘Not a very bright idea,' he said with a yawn, ‘dragging you out so late, all the way to
Dahlem. How are you going to get back? My chauffeur needs a bit of sleep.'

And then the car had turned into a gravel drive and they stepped from the misty November night, still occasionally disturbed by shots, into a large, brightly lit hall where beech logs burned in a large fireplace.

‘You live here?' demanded the astonished Heinz.

‘Here I have set up my humble abode,' grinned Erich, all of a sudden a different man again, cheerful and light-hearted. Indeed, he slapped his brother on the back with such goodwill that Heinz almost fell over, and Erich (indulging in a sarcasm quite foreign to his nature, for it was at his own expense), cried out: ‘And see how well Father could have invested the millions he hasn't got, with me! He couldn't have got such high interest elsewhere.' Laughing loudly, he flung himself into a chair near the fire. ‘Well, Heinz, what about some schnapps? And a liqueur for you, my dear young lady. Oh, nonsense! Once doesn't count, as the girl said, and then got triplets.' He seemed slightly drunk – no doubt with the drunkenness of a man who had never possessed anything and was now exulting in his new sense of ownership.

Almost immediately, however, he was on his feet addressing a man in field-grey uniform, who was pouring out the drinks. ‘Listen, Radtke, tell Madame I'm as hungry as a hunter and would like my meal soon. And lay two more places.'