‘I never thought they weren’t clever, sir – ’
dummy4
‘I don’t mean German sappers.’ Clinton paused.
‘Although they did have some new plastic explosive which might have surprised you unpleasantly . . . But then they were way ahead of us in so many fields –
synthetics, and optics, and radar and rocketry, and aircraft design – I’m told that even their aircraft-testing technology was years ahead of ours ... In fact, I don’t think some of our chaps really understand what they’re looking at half the time –like a bunch of savages trying to make sense of a screwdriver. And that isn’t the end of it – and don’t, pray don’t, say to me now, as one very senior officer did quite recently, “By George, Freddie! If half you say is true, then we ought to have lost the jolly old war! But we didn’t now, did we.’
‘I wasn’t about to say such a thing, sir.’ Fred hastily amended his thoughts. ‘I was going to say . . . but we are here anyway.’ He remembered the lorry again.
‘Huh!’ For the first time Brigadier Clinton emitted something like the sort of explosive sound brigadiers usually made in Fred’s experience of them. ‘That is the other half of it, Major Fattorini: too late and too little, as well as too incompetently, is our story. I can’t call it a “policy” – it would be bad enough if it was an actual policy . . . But there isn’t any policy, so far as I can discover. So we’re actually ten times worse than even the Americans, at picking up German technology and the men who can explain it to us. And they’re slower dummy4
than the Russians, and Americans are . . . because the Yanks have some Jewish officers, and some Jews in their State Department, who are at least decently concerned about shaking hands with Nazis who haven’t yet even had time to wash the blood off theirs
– that is at least understandable . . . Or, it would be if the Russians weren’t making deals with everyone they can lay their hands on – which is easy enough for them, because their deal is “Work for us, and we’ll look after you, and your family, and no questions asked ... or we’ll shoot the lot of you . . . except your daughter, who is pretty.” In which case, it isn’t too difficult to reach a sensible decision . . . And the French – they have an even better sales story: “Come and live in France, where it is warmer, and much more civilized . . . and serve your time with us, like a soldier in La Legion etrangere, also with no questions asked, but with better pay and better food, and finally become a Frenchman like us!” And who would refuse that offer, in Germany in 1945? Would you, major – if you were hungry, and had a Nazi record as long as my arm?’
After that ‘huh’ . . . that was the longest and most uncharacteristic speech Fred had heard from any senior officer, anywhere, in all his years in uniform. But then this brigadier’s experience of Germans went back longer than most, he remembered: he had been sucking dummy4
German eggs since . . . 1937 – ?
So he could afford to jump the obvious answer. ‘So what are we doing then, sir?’
‘You may well ask, major – you may well ask!’
Clinton stared at Hermann’s inscription this time:
‘ Arminius liberator haud dubie Germaniae – ’ So Fred waited patiently to be liberated in his turn.
‘We started out . . . trying to pick up certain of the pieces, much too late . . . amongst other things. But now we’re living on borrowed time, I fear – even after last night’s famous victory.’ Clinton continued to study the inscription.
Fred waited again, until his patience exhausted itself.
‘How so, sir?’
Clinton turned quickly, to his surprise. ‘Don’t be downcast, major. Last night did go according to plan . . . except for your poor devil.’
Fred thought for a moment. ‘And he was set up as a target?’
‘Not a target, as such.’ Clinton shook his head. ‘But there was a risk, I cannot deny that. But in this instance I did not expect it. And . . . there was always the chance that they would miss.’
Fred didn’t know quite how much of that to believe.
‘Who would miss?’
‘The Russians, major.’ Clinton nodded, as though this dummy4
had been the expected answer. “The Americans didn’t need to, because they had the men on the spot to take what they wanted. And, to be fair, their well-developed sense of self-interest ... or patriotism, as it used to be called ... is not yet so ruthless. Even though I seem to recall that it was an American who first said ”Our country, right or wrong“ . . . yes, it was. But not here, not now, and not yet, I think. And the French ... they are undoubtedly capable of anything, since the very mention of ”France“ obviates the need for moral debate . . . But in this instance they are safely out of the picture – they’re much too busy pursuing their own very successful enterprises.‘ He nodded, at first almost to himself but finally at Fred. ’You see, major, there have been a great many people – and interests . . . and commercial interests as well as national, too –
concerned with acquiring the details of German technical and industrial and scientific development.
And with getting their hands on it before anyone else.
Which you can call ”loot“ if you like ... or ”spoils of war“. But strictly speaking it’s ”reparations“. And it’s really the only worthwhile reparation that’s to be had here – knowledge.‘ He paused deliberately, as though to let the word sink in. ’Oh ... I know the Russians are carrying off whole factories. And you can’t really blame them for that. And, in spite of what the bomber fellows say, because they claim to have destroyed everything, there’s still a lot to carry off. In fact, dummy4
there’ll still be a lot after they’ve had their pick ... So there is equipment. But it’s the research that really matters. And some of it’s so damned far in advance of anything we’ve done that we need the researchers themselves to go with it, to explain it. Do you see?‘
‘The savages need help with the screwdrivers?’
‘Huh!’ Clinton repeated his brigadierial growl. ‘The trouble is, some of our savages don’t believe in the existence of the screwdriver: they think it’s some sort of blunt chisel. And some of our chiefs don’t want to know. Or they can’t bring themselves to talk to the screwdriver-makers, anyway, either because of their stupidity, or because of their tender consciences.’
‘Because the screwdriver-makers are Nazis?’ The unplesant truth beneath the imagery made Fred uneasy in spite of the Brigadier’s earlier honest recognition of it. ‘Is that so wicked – not to want to do business with Nazis?’
Clinton’s coldest stare returned. ‘Are you about to lecture me on the nature of Fascism, major? And what our attitude should be?’
‘No, sir. But – ’
‘I should hope not. Because I’ve forgotten more about that subject than you are ever likely to know.’ The stare continued. ‘So what were you going to say?’
Fred felt himself backed into a corner. The wide circle dummy4
round the Hermann monument was silent and empty behind him, and the forest was silent and empty behind that – empty even of birds, judging by its silence. And the whole of Germany might be ruined and empty behind the forest. But he was nevertheless in a corner.
And the bugger of it was that he hadn’t even had the chance of taking Kyri’s good advice, he had simply had the soldier’s choice of no choice at all. And Devenish had summed that up for him.