Mila 18 - Leon Uris [195]
Horst spun the ice cubes with his forefinger. He glanced up into Funk’s face. The Oberführer was in a state of detachment, the cruel and impersonal monster qualities dominating his appearance.
“Others talk of love of country. We act it out through absolute obedience. Four years ago I was commandant of the Waffen SS youth training school at Dachau. We got boys at the age of sixteen for a year’s indoctrination, complete with live prisoners to experiment with. The entire course was geared to teach absolute unquestioned obedience to the Fatherland. Each boy was given an Alsatian puppy of six to eight weeks of age when he entered training. During the year part of their study was to train the animal, live with it, compete it against the other dogs. We encouraged them to develop the natural affection a boy does for a dog.”
Funk clasped his hands behind him.
“The last graduation test to see if the boy was worthy to become an SS officer was by calling him into a private room with his dog. As he stood before me at attention with his dog at his side I would say, ‘Hans, I order you to strangle your dog this instant.’ ”
Horst thought he was going to vomit.
“Oh, a few were unable to do it. Some even broke and cried. But! Almost all of them, without a trace of remorse, without a second of hesitation, said, ‘Jawohl, Herr Kommandant,’ and proceeded to snap their dog’s neck without a trace of emotion. And this, Horst, is the supreme state of absolute obedience which we Germans have attained.”
Horst poured himself a triple drink. “Heil Hitler,” he said.
Sturmbannführer Sieghold Stutze paced his room in the barracks wildly. Gestapo Chief Sauer had just left him with orders to set up a massive pot around Mila 19 and not to leave until the underground bunker was located and Alexander Brandel found.
It was just like that bastard Prussian, Alfred Funk, to give him the dirty work, he fumed. Where was his promotion to Standartenführer? He had more than earned his colonelcy. It was all part of the German plots against the Austrians.
All winter the Jews had been arming in the ghetto. No telling what those crazy Jews were liable to do. He broke into a sweat.
Damned if he’d walk into a trap on Funk’s whim. Funk simply didn’t understand how dangerous it was.
And then the idea came to him as he heard a shriek down the hall. It was that damned Kutler and his nightmares again. Wait! Kutler. That drunken beast was becoming completely useless. Yes! That was it. Kutler would lead the force into the ghetto. Kutler would set up the kettle. Good idea ... good idea.
Chapter Three
“AHA!” ANDREI CRIED WITH fiendish delight, rubbing his hands together. “Aha, you stupid man. You have made a fool’s gambit!” Andrei moved his knight over the chessboard. “Check!”
Chris countered immediately, lopping off an exposed castle, putting Andrei’s chessmen in an impossible position. “Fool’s gambit, all right,” he said, “but you have the wrong fool.”
Andrei studied the board a moment and cursed under his breath.
Chris pulled back from the table and paced the tiny garret room restlessly.
“What’s the matter, Chris?”
“I’m hungry, I want a smoke, I’m sick of being cooped up—I want to see Deborah.”
“I have yet to hear the first person speak in favor of ghetto living,” Andrei said.
“It has its advantages. It got me out of some bad drinking habits.” Chris patted his stomach. “And notice how slim I’ve become.”
“What’s bothering you?” Andrei asked again.
“To go or not to go. Hell, I know how important it is to get out of Poland knowing where the archives are buried, but it was impossible to leave Deborah before, even believing she hated me. Now, I swear, I don’t know if I have the strength to leave.”
“Women,” Andrei grunted, “they have a way of getting under one’s skin.” He walked up behind Chris and put one hand on his shoulder. “I am confident that when the time comes you