She felt the partisan’s heavy shoulder shrug under her weight. ‘Then the Germans got him.’
* * * *
CHAPTER 8
July 3
0120 hours
Wehrmacht train
north of Khar’kov,
near the Ukraine-Russian border
the Russian steppe
A knock sounded on Luis’s compartment door. He snapped awake. His sleep was never deep anymore, this frail frame he despised needed only shallow rest.
‘Yes.’
‘A message for you from the engineer, sir.’
Luis pulled his heels off the bench across from him. He stood and arranged his uniform. No trooper would see him in disarray, he was a
He slid the cabin door all the way back. The soldier seemed surprised, expecting the door to be only cracked at this time in the morning, not to encounter such alertness.
‘Give it to me, Private.’
‘Yes, sir. Good morning, sir.’
Luis took the folded sheet without looking down, keeping his eyes glued to the young grenadier’s face. Was there any hint of surprise on the boy at the gaunt white form who’d opened the door? No. Good. Luis nodded and the soldier clicked his heels in attention. Bearing, thought Luis.
Bearing. This soldier could snap me in half if he had a mind to, but I can make him jump off this moving train with a word.
Luis opened the page. The private waited.
He read the one-line message, then looked the soldier up and down.
Strong boy, he thought, big blond lad. But the soldier was not German. The insignia on his collar and sleeve revealed he was Czech. He and Luis had this in common, they were non-Germans serving in the SS. Because of their massive losses, the SS was recruiting outside Germany. Standing here on this rattling train deep in Russia, blond and dark, were two samples of the reach of Hitler’s ambitions.
Luis patted the boy’s arm.
‘Tell the engineer to stop the train.’
The soldier set his jaw, a love of taking orders was clear. Looking at him, Luis thought: This boy has not been to Russia before. The soldier said, ‘Yes, sir!’ and left. Luis reached back for his cap, nestled it on his head, and walked to the next compartment. He knocked.
‘Major Grimm.’
Behind the door, a sleepy throat snorted and coughed.
‘Yes. Yes, who is it?’
‘Captain de Vega.’
‘Captain. What time is it?’
‘Open up, please, Major.’
‘Yes. A moment.’
The major slid back the door only inches, disheveled, the plat of hair he combed over his wispy pate hung below his ear. Luis saw he was barefoot and in his undershirt.
‘Do you have a sidearm, Major?’
‘What?’
‘A weapon, sir. Do you have a gun with you?’
‘Yes, yes.’
‘Please strap it on and come with me.’
The fat officer sighed, then nodded, resigned. ‘Give me a…’
The major started to close the door to dress but Luis gave him a displeased glance, that he would not care to linger outside a shut door, waiting. The major slid the door full open and turned to his task.
The car jerked to the squealing of brakes, the train slowed and stopped. Under the gasps of steam from the locomotive, the officer donned his pants, tunic, and boots. Out of a travel case he took his Luger pistol and holster and buckled them on. He asked no questions.
Luis led him down the hall to the passenger car door. He spoke over his shoulder. ‘As ranking officer on this train, I thought I should alert you, Major. I’ve received a radio message that the tracks are broken ahead at the Oktabrskaya station. We cannot get through just yet. I’ve ordered the train to a halt.’
Luis stepped out of the train onto the rail mound. The major clambered down behind him.
‘Why are we stopping out here in the middle of…’
‘Shhh, Major. Please.’
The train stood still, the locomotive continued its heavy metal breath, waiting for the order to continue. On
