The Valhalla Exchange - Jack Higgins [51]
'What do you want me to do, go back to sewing on fly-buttons in an Eastside cellar for thirty bucks a week when I can't get work blowing clarinet? No thank you. Before I go back to that, I'd rather pull the pin on one of my own grenades. I'll tell you something, Harry.' His voice was low, urgent. 'I live more in a single day, than I did in a year before the war. When my time comes, I hope I take it right between the eyes about one minute before they sign the peace treaty, and if you and the noble captain don't like it, baby, then you can do the other thing.'
He got up and, turning, found Howard listening. They stood there, neither Hoover nor Finebaum knowing what the hell to say. It was Howard who spoke first. 'Tell me, Finebaum - Garland, Anderson, O'Grady - all those other guys in the outfit, all the way across Europe since D-Day? Don't you ever think of them at all? Doesn't the fact of their deaths have any meaning for you?'
'Those guys are dead - so they're dead. Right, Captain? I mean, maybe some part of my brain is missing or something, but I don't see it any other way.'
'And you don't think they accomplished anything?'
'You mean the nobility of war, sir? The strength of our purpose and all that crap? I'm afraid I don't buy that either. The way I figure it, every day for the past 10,000 years, someone, somewhere in the world has been beating hell out of someone else. I think it's in the nature of the species.'
'You know something, Finebaum? I'm beginning to think you might have read a book or two.'
'Could be, Captain. That just could be.'
'All right,' Howard said. 'You want a little action - I've got a pretty large helping for you. Ever heard of General Hamilton Canning?'
He quickly outlined the situation. When he was finished, Finebaum said, 'That's the craziest thing I ever heard of. That's Indian territory out there.'
'Forty or fifty miles of it between here and Arlberg.'
'And they want us to go? Three guys in an ambulance with some kraut stretcher case.' He started to laugh. 'You know, I like it, Captain. Yes, I definitely like it.'
'Okay, so you go and tell Sergeant-Major Grant we're going. Tell him I'll go along in five minutes to speak to this German lieutenant, Schenck, and move it. If we're going we've got to go now.'
Finebaum went off on the double and Howard squatted down and helped himself to coffee from the stove. Hoover said, 'You sure you're doing the right thing? You don't look too good.'
'You want to know something, Harry?' Howard said. 'I'm tired right through to my backbone. More tired than I've ever been in my life, and yet I can't sleep. I can't feel, I don't seem to be able to react.' He shrugged. 'Maybe I need to smell a little gunpowder. Maybe I've got like Finebaum and need it.' He stuck a cigarette between his lips. 'I know one thing. Right now, I'd rather be out there taking my chances than squatting on my backside here waiting for the war to finish.'
The Finns were encamped at a farm just off the main road about ten miles west of Arnheim. There were thirty-eight of them under the command of a Hauptsturmfuhrer named Erik Sorsa.
The 5th SS Panzer Division Wiking was the first, and without a doubt the best, foreign division of the Waffen-SS, composed mainly of Dutch, Flemings, Danes and Norwegians. The Finns had joined in 1941, providing skitroop expertise so essential in the Russian campaign.
The losses on the Eastern Front by January 1945 had been so colossal that it was decided to raise a new regiment, a joint Germanic-Finnish affair. The project had foundered when the few dozen Finnish survivors, with Sorsa as their senior officer, had made it clear that they would not renew their contracts with the German government after May 1. So, from Divisional Headquarters in Klagenfurt, had come the order which had sent them to the farm at Oberfeld to await further instructions, which was what they had been doing for precisely three weeks now.
Sorsa was a handsome, fair-haired young man of twenty-seven. His mountain cap was identical to that of the army in cut,