A Man Without Breath

Back in the signals room at Dnieper Castle there was a message for me from Berlin. Martin Quidde had already gone off duty and it was his junior signaller, Lutz – the man he believed was working secretly in the 537th for the Gestapo – who handed me the yellow envelope. He knew what the message said of course, because it was he who had decoded it, but I could see he was keen to ask me a question, and because when I can I like to keep the Gestapo as close as possible I offered him a Trummer from my little cigarette case and acted as if I was happy to talk for a while. But what I really wanted was to have someone in the Gestapo looking out for me, and sometimes, when you’re looking for a man to cover your back, it’s best to recruit the very person whose job it might be to put a knife in it.

‘Thanks very much, sir,’ he said, puffing with obvious enthusiasm. ‘These are the best cigarettes I’ve tasted in a while.’

‘Don’t mention it.’

‘Quidde says you’re not in the army at all but in the SD.’

‘That should tell you something.’

‘It should?’

‘It should tell you that you can trust me. That you can be frank with me.’

Lutz nodded, but it was plain I was going to have to let him have the run of the line for a while before I could land him at my feet.

‘This is not something that would be true of everyone in the 537th,’ I said, carefully. ‘Not everyone is committed to the Party the way you and I are, Lutz. In spite of all evidence to the contrary, loyalty – real loyalty – is a comparatively rare thing these days. People say “Heil Hitler” with alacrity, but for most of them it doesn’t mean a damn thing.’

‘That’s very true.’

‘It’s just a figure of speech, a trope. Do you know what a trope is, Lutz?’

‘I’m not sure I do, sir.’

‘It’s a word or phrase that has almost become a cliche. It implies that for some people the words no longer mean anything very much; that the words have been turned away from their normal meaning. A lot of people say “Heil Hitler” and make the salute merely as a way of ensuring that they don’t get into trouble with the Gestapo. But Adolf Hitler doesn’t mean much for these men, and certainly not what he means for you and me, Lutz. By which I mean SD men and Gestapo men. I’m right, aren’t I? That you’re with the Gestapo? No, you don’t need to answer that. I know what I know. But what I don’t yet know is if I can rely on you, Lutz. That I can count on you in a way I can count on no one else in this regiment. That I can talk to you in confidence perhaps, and that you can speak to me in the same way. Do I make myself plain?’

‘Yes sir. You can count on me, sir.’

‘Good. Now tell me something, Lutz, did you know those two dead signallers well?’

‘Yes, well enough.’

‘Were they good Nazis?’

‘They were-’ He hesitated. ‘They were good signallers sir.’

‘That’s not what I asked you.’

Lutz hesitated again, but this time it was only for a moment. ‘No, sir. Neither of them could ever have been described as that, I think. In fact I had already reported them to the Gestapo because I suspected them of being involved in some local black market.’

I shrugged. ‘That’s not uncommon with people who work in signals and in stores.’

‘I also reported them for certain remarks I considered to be disloyal. This was a couple of months ago. In February. Immediately after Stalingrad. What they said seemed especially disloyal after Stalingrad.’

‘You reported them to the Gestapo station at Gnezdovo, here in Smolensk?’

‘Yes. To a Captain Hammerschmidt.’

‘And what did he do?’

‘Nothing. Nothing at all.’ Lutz coloured a little. ‘Ribe and Greiss weren’t even questioned, and I asked myself why I had bothered. I mean, it’s no small thing to denounce someone for treason, especially when it’s a comrade.’

‘Is that what it was, do you think? Treason?’

‘Oh yes. They were always making jokes about the leadership. I asked them to stop but they took no notice. If anything, it got worse. When the leader was here a few weeks ago, I suggested we go down to the road and watch out for his car as it drove past on the way to headquarters at Krasny Bor. They just laughed and proceeded to make more jokes about the leader. Which made me really angry, sir. These were capital crimes, after all. I mean here we are, in the midst of a war for our very survival, and these two bastards were undermining the nation’s will to self-defence. Frankly I’m not at all sorry they are dead, sir, if it means I no longer have to listen to that kind of crap.’

‘Do you remember any of these jokes?’

‘Yes sir. One. Only I’d rather not repeat it.’

‘Come now, Lutz. No one is going to assume that it was your joke.’