“I have a degree in military strategy. from the Imperial Staff school in
Berlin. rm aware of our impending defeat. . . . Ludendorff will have no
choice once the M6ares line is broken.”
“Men why kill me?”
-The German officer came from behind the huge rock and faced Ulster
Scarlett, his pistol pointed at the American’s head. Scarlett saw that he
was a man not much older than himself, a young man with broad shoulderslike
himself. Tall-like himself, with a confident look in his eyes, which were
bright blue-like his own.
“We can be out of it, for Christ’s sakel We can be out of itl Why the hell
should we sacrifice each other? Or even one of us…. I can help you, you
knowl”
“Can you reallyTo
49
Scarlett looked at his captor. He knew he could not plead, could not show
weakness. He had to remain calm, logical. “Listen to me. . . . If you’re
picked up, you’ll be put in a camp with thousands of others. That is, if
yqu’re not shot. I wouldn’t count on any officers’ privileges if I were
you. It’ll take weeks, months, maybe a year or longer before they get to
you! Before they let you gol”
“And you can change all this?”
“You’re damned right I cani”
“But why would you?”
“Because I want to be out of itl . . . And so do youl . . . If you didn’t,
you would have killed me by now. … We need each other.”
“What do you propose?”
“You’re my prisoner. . .
“You think me insane?”
“Keep your pistoll Take the bullets out of mine.
If anyone comes across us, I’m taking you back for interrogation … far
back. Until we can get you some clothes. … If we can get to Paris, I’ll
get you money.”
“How?”
Ulster Scarlett grinned a confident smile. The smile of wealth. “That’s my
business. . . . What choice have you got? … Kill me and you’re a prisoner
anyway. Maybe a dead man. And you haven’t much time. . .
“Get upl Put your arms out against the rockl”
Scarlett complied as the German officer took Scarletfs revolver out of his
holster and removed the cartridges.
“Turn aroundl”
“In less than an hour others’ll be coming up. We were an advance company
but not that far ahead.”
The German waved his pistol at Scarlett. “There are several -farmhouses
about a kilometer and a half southwest. Movel Mach schnellr’ With his left
hand he thrust Scarlett’s empty revolver at him.
The two men ran across the fields.
-The artillery to the north began its early morning barrage. The sun had
broken through the clouds and the mist and was now bright.
About a mile to the southwest was a cluster of buildings. A bam and two
small stone houses. It was necessary to cross a wide dirt road to reach the
overgrown pasture, fenced for livestock, which were not now in evidence.
50
Chimney smoke curled from the larger of the two houses.
Someone had a fire going and that meant sombone had food, warmth. Someone
had supplies.
“Let’s get into that shack,” said Ulster.
“Neiml Your troops will be coming through.”
“For Chrisfs sake, we’ve got to get you some clothes. Can’t you see that?”
The German clicked the hammer of his Luger into firing position. “You’re
inconsistent. I thought you proposed taking me back-far back-through your
own lines for interrogation? It might be simpler to kill you now.91
“Only until we could get you clothesl If I’ve got a Kraut officer in tow,
there’s nothing to prevent some fatass captain figuring out the same thing
I havel Or a major or a colonel who wants to get the hell out of the area.
. . . It’s been done before. An they have to do is order me to turn you
over and thairs itl . . . If you’re in civilian clothes, I can get us
through easier. Tliere!s so damned much confusiont”
The German slowly released the hammer of his revolver, still staring at the
lieutenant “You really do want this war to be over for you, don’t you?”
Inside the stone house was an old man, hard of hearing, confused and
frightened by the strange pair. With little pretense, holding the unloaded
revolver, the American lieutenant ordered the man to pack a supply bf food
and find clothes-any clothes for his “Prisoner.”
As Scarlett’s French was poor, he turned to his captor. ‘T&y don’t you tell
him were both German? … Were trapped. We’re trying to escape through the
lines. Every Frenchman knows we’re breaking through everywhere.”
The German officer smile& -rve already done that. It will add to the
confusion. . . . You will be amused to learn that he said he presumed as
much. Do you know why he said that?”
“He said we both had the filthy smell of the Boche about us~”
The old man, who had ed$ed near the open door, suddenly dashed outside and
began-feebly-running toward the field.
51
“Jesus Christl Stop himl God damn it, stop hinil” yelled Scarlett.
The German officer, however, already had his pistol raised. “Don’t be
alarmed. He saves us making an unpleasant decision.”
Two shots were fired.
Ile old man fell, and the young enemies looked at each other.
“What should I call you?” asked Scarlett.
“My own name will do. Strasser…. Gregor Strasser.”
It was not difficult for the two officers to make their way through the
Allied lines. The American push out of Regneville was electrifyingly swift,
a headlong rush. But totally disconnected in its chain of command. Or so it
seemed to Ulster Scarlett and Gregor Strasser.
At Reims the two men came across the remnants of the French Seventeenth
Corps, bedraggled, hungry, weary of it all.
They had no trouble at Reims. The French merely shrugged shoulders after
uninterested questions.
They headed west to Villers-Cotter6ts, the roads to Epernay and Meaux
jammed with upcoming supplies and replacements.
Let the other poor bastards take your deathbed bullets, thought Scarlett.
The two men reached the outskirts of Villers-Cotter8ts at night. They left
the road and cut across a field to the shelter of a cluster of trees.
“We’ll rest here for a few hours,” Strasser said. “Make no attempt to
escape. I shall not sleep.”
“You’re crazy, spord I need you as much as you need mel . . . A lone
American officer forty miles from his company, which just happens to be at
the frond Use your headl-
“You are persuasive, but I am not like our enfeebled imperial generals. I
do not listen to empty, convincing arguments. I watch my flanks.”
“Suit yourself. It’s a good sixty miles from Cotterets to Paris and we
don’t know what we’re going to run into. We’re going to need sleep. . . .
We’d be smarter to take turns.10
52
“Jawohil” said Strasser with a contemptuous laugh. “You talk like the Jew
bankers in Berlin. ‘You do this. We’ll do thatt Why argue?’ Thank you, no,
Amerikaner. I shall not sleep.”
“Whatever you say.” Scarlett shrugged. “I’m beginning to understand why you
guys lost the war.” Scarlett rolled over on his side. “You’re stubborn
about being stubbom”
For a few minutes neither man spoke~ Finally Gregor Strasser answered the
American in a quiet voice. “We did not lose the war. We were betrayed.”
“Sure. The bulleb were blanks and your artillery backfired. I’m going to
sleep.”
The German officer spoke softly, as if to himself. “Many bullets were in
empty cartridges. Many weapons did malfuuction…. Betrayal. . . .”
Along the road several trucks lumbered out of Villers-Cotterets followed by
horses pulling caissons. The lights of the trucks danced flickeringly up
and down. The animals whinnied; a few soldiers shouted at their charges.
More poor, stupid bastards, thought Ulster Scarlett as he watched from his
sanctuary. “Hey, Strasser, what happens now?” Scarlett turned to his fellow
deserter.
“Was ist?” Strasser had catnapped. He was furious with himself. “You
speak?”
“Just wanted you to know I could have jumped you. … I asked you what
happens now? I mean to you? … I know what happens to us. Parades, I
guess. What about you?”
“No parades. No celebrations. . . . Much weeping. Much recrimination. Much
drunkenness. . . . Many will be desperate…. Many will be killed also. You
may be assured of that.”
“WhcR Who’s going to be killed?”
“ne traitors among us. They will be searched out and destroyed without
mercy.”
“You’re crazyl I said you were crazy before and now I know itl”
“What would you have us do? You haven’t been infected yet. But you will bel
… The Bolsheviksl They are at our borders and they infiltratel They eat
away at our corel They rot inside usl . . . And the Jewsl The Jews in
Berlin make fortunes out of this warl The filthy Jew profiteersl The