‘Incidentally, those marks on your chest and neck,’ I said. ‘They look like cigarette burns. How did you come by them?’
‘They’re not cigarette burns,’ he said. ‘They’re bites. From the bedbugs. A whole fucking army of bedbugs.’ He took a nervous puff and started to scratch eloquently.
‘So why don’t you tell me what happened? In your own words.’
He shook his head. ‘I certainly haven’t committed any war crimes.’
‘All right. Let’s talk about the other fellow, your comrade, Sergeant Kuhr. He’s quite a fellow, isn’t he? First-class Iron Cross, old fighter – that means he was a member of the Nazi Party before the Reichstag election of 1930, doesn’t it?’
‘I’ve got nothing to say about Wilhelm Kuhr,’ said Hermichen.
‘That’s a pity, because this is your one chance to put your side of the story. I’ll be speaking to him after you and I expect he’ll tell me his side of the story. So if he blames it all on you it will be your misfortune. From where I’m sitting you both look guilty as hell, but generally speaking military courts like to balance justice with clemency, albeit in a completely arbitrary way. And my guess is they’ll only convict one of you. The question is, which one? You or Sergeant Kuhr?’
‘I really don’t understand what this shit is all about. Even if I did kill those two Ivans – and I’m not saying I did – what the fuck?’
‘They weren’t Ivans,’ I said. ‘They were just a couple of laundry maids.’
‘Well, whatever I’m supposed to have done the SS has done a lot fucking worse – Sloboda, Polotsk, Bychitsa, Biskatovo. I went through those places. They must have shot three hundred Jews in those four villages alone. But I don’t see anyone charging them bastards with murder.’
‘
‘What sort of example?’
‘They’ll try you tomorrow and after they find you guilty they’ll hang you on Sunday. Right here in the yard outside. They were erecting the gallows as I came through the door of the prison. That kind of an example.’
‘They wouldn’t,’ he said.
‘I’m afraid they would. And they do. I’ve seen it. The commanders are coming down hard on that kind of thing.’ I shrugged. ‘I’m here to help, if I can.’
‘But what about Hitler’s decree?’ said the corporal.
‘What about it?’
‘I heard about this barbarian decree the leader had made that said it wasn’t the same standard required out here, see? On account of how the Slavs are fucking barbarians.’ He shrugged. ‘I mean, anyone can see that, can’t they? I mean look at them. Life means less down here than it does back home. Anyone can see that.’
‘The Ivans are not so bad. Just people, trying to survive, make a living.’
‘No, they’re hardly human. Barbarians is right.’
‘By the way, it’s not called the barbarian decree, you block-head,’ I sneered. ‘It’s the Barbarossa Decree, after the German Holy Roman Emperor of the same name. He led the Third Crusade, which is probably why we chose to name the military operation we’ve mounted against the Soviet Union after him in the first place. Out of some misplaced sense of fucking history. Not that you’d know much about history. What you’d better know is that this decree was not passed on to the local field commanders by Von Kluge. Like a lot of those old-style general staff officers, the field marshal chose to sit on Hitler’s decree – you might say, even to ignore it altogether. And it certainly didn’t apply to those men guarding Army Group Centre headquarters. What the SS and the SD do is their affair. And I must tell you this: if you and your old fighter friend were gambling on an appeal to Berlin over the field marshal’s head, then you can forget it. That’s just not going to happen. So you’d better start talking.’
Corporal Hermichen hung his head and sighed. ‘That bad, eh?’
‘Damn right that bad. My advice to you is to make a statement as quickly as possible in the hope of saving your neck. I’m not really interested in whether you hang or not. No, what I’m more interested in is the way you – or your sergeant – killed those two women.’