The covenant - James A. Michener [536]
'Good evening, dear and loyal friends in South Africa. This is your favorite program, By Kampfuur en Ketel [By Campfire and Kettle]. Today our glorious Fiihrer has enjoyed victories on all fronts. The decadent democracies cringe and crumble. [Here came a series of coded instructions, at which Piet Krause leaped with excitement.] Trusted friends in South Africa . . .'
Neither he nor Detleef heard the final words, for Piet snapped off the radio and asked bluntly, 'Well, Brother, do you join our revolution?' and faced with that moment of decision, Detleef finally concluded that he distrusted Adolf Hitler and doubted his ultimate victory.
'I can't accept such an oath,' he said.
'Heroes can,' Piet said, and he was off.
He drove recklessly from Venloo to Waterval-Boven, where he picked up two conspirators who had taken the oath, then west to Pretoria, where Wyk Slotemaker, the one-time actor eager to assassinate Smuts, joined them, then down to an army base south of Johannesburg, where they were scheduled to blow up a major ammunition dump. When the actor saw the intricacy of the barbed wire, he drew back, and this also deterred the other two, but Piet, inflamed with memories of Nuremberg and Berlin, and visualizing the same kind of glory breaking over South Africa, crept forward alone, dynamite strapped to his back.
His careless use of wire clippers activated a warning bell in the guardrooms, and seven sharpshooters streamed out as huge searchlights flashed on. An Afrikaner from Carolina who had volunteered for Smuts' army drew a bead on the dark figure creeping toward the ammunition, and fired. His bullet struck the package on Piet's back, detonating it and blowing him to shreds, but even so, Krause gained a limited victory, for he had reached a spot so close to the dump that his explosion ignited combustiblesand through the long night shattering concussions threw flames far into the sky.
In 1946, when Detleef and Maria van Doorn were once more peaceful farmers at Vrymeer, they were visited by his sister Johanna, a widow with a minor job in Johannesburg. She came with a proposal from a group of persons much interested in the welfare of the nation, and although Detleef was suspicious of almost anything she did these days, he had to listen, for whenever he met with her his first impression was of that evening in the camp at Chrissiesmeer when she apportioned the food delivered to the dead Tant Sybilla, and weighed it in her pale hands, giving him the larger share. He was alive today because of her courage and generosity.
'Detleef, and this concerns you too, Maria. In business the English are proving much more clever than we suspected. We've made almost no headway in penetrating their offices of power. We just don't have enough trained young men. Damnit all, our best people go down to Stellenbosch, and what do they study? Religion, of which we have far too much. Philosophy, which is of use to no one. Some history. Some literature. A little science. What we need is accountants and bankers and managers.'
'I certainly have no capacity in those fields,' Detleef protested.
'Of course you don't. Because you wasted your time at Stellenbosch. Playing rugby.'
'Wait a minute! Don't you say anything against rugby.' When she had railed against religion a few moments before, he had remained silent, but he could not do so if she spoke against rugby.
'Forget that. We've decided that what we must do is place men like you who can speak good English . . . Well, what I mean is . . . you must take one of the permanent secretaryships with the committees in Parliament.'
'That pays nothing!'