‘Course he’ll mention Stalingrad! He can’t keep avoiding the subject, especially not today. He’s bound to say something.’
The announcer’s voice came on the wireless. ‘Unfortunately, the start of our broadcast from the banqueting hall of the Reich Air Ministry to celebrate the tenth anniversary of the accession to power has had to be postponed for about an hour for technical reasons. Until then, some marching-band music.’
There came the strains of the ‘Finnish Cavalryman’ followed by the Hohenfriedberger March. Despite some atmospheric interference, the transmission was pretty good. Fröhlich sat against the wall with his knees drawn up to his chest. He had closed his eyes and was beating out time to the music with his hand.
‘Well, they seem pretty cheerful about things over there, I must say!’ said First Lieutenant Schmid. ‘I can’t wait to hear Göring’s speech. Listen here, lads, how about if he says something like this: “You’ve kept on fighting, believing in the Führer. And now your faith has been rewarded. The Führer hasn’t left you in the lurch. We’ve kept quiet for so long because we wanted to wait for a happy outcome. Today, on the tenth anniversary of our coming to power, we have succeeded in liberating you. Airborne divisions have made contact with the forces that were encircled. Loyalty in return for loyalty!” That’d really be something, wouldn’t it?’
‘Loyalty for loyalty!’ screeched Fröhlich like a parrot.
The others laughed nervously.
‘I’ll be happy,’ said Eichert, ‘if he just tells it like it is. If he says: “We’ve made mistakes—”’
‘He’ll nover soy that!’ interjected Findeisen.
‘“—made some serious mistakes, as a result of which the Russians have managed to encircle three hundred thousand men at Stalingrad. They have fought valiantly, above all against hunger and cold, and in the process have tied down a large part of the Russian forces. In doing this, they have discharged the last unglamorous duty they could be called upon to perform, and have incurred heavy losses. They have achieved more and endured more than any German troops have done before. And they have suffered all this hardship because of our stupidity and shortsightedness (Okay, he doesn’t need to say that!). Now all that remains in Stalingrad are wounded, starving and half-frozen men who are incapable of fighting. As a result, the Führer has today decided to order the remnants of the Sixth Army to seek an honourable surrender. Through this order he has saved around a hundred thousand German men – fathers and sons – for our nation. This is the Führer’s gift to the German people to mark the tenth anniversary of his accession to power…”’
Captain Eichert paused and took a deep breath.
‘He could say something like that, for instance.’
The others kept silent. ‘Yes,’ they thought to themselves, ‘he certainly could!’
At that moment, a soldier rushed into the room.
‘Captain, sir!’ he called. ‘The Russians! They’re already three blocks beyond us!’
‘The Russians? How come? Why?’
‘They couldn’t go through the square and the streets; there’s too much shooting going on there still. So they smashed their way from house to house through the cellar walls! Some guys came from the neighbouring block and said…’
Eichert stood up.
‘Okay,’ he said, ‘the sentries with the white flags should get ready! Corporal Kunze will organize it! As soon as the Russians appear anywhere, put out the flags and report back! Gentlemen, I think this is it! Seems like we won’t get to hear what Herr Göring has to say after all… I think I can safely say we’ve made all the necessary preparations.’
Chief Paymaster Jankuhn had turned pale. He hesitated for a moment, then left the room. After a while he came back with seven tins of preserved meat and a case of cigars.
‘I’ll share out the remaining supplies,’ he said sheepishly. ‘No point hoarding them now.’
He handed each of them a tin.
‘Hey, Paymaster, you must take the prize for klutz of the century!’ cried Schmid. ‘For days, we haven’t had so much as a blade of straw to smoke, and now you turn up with these great big coffin nails!’
Everyone pounced on the cigars. Jankuhn ceremoniously produced a bundle of banknotes, crisp new fifty-mark bills issued by the Reich Credit Bank.
‘So, gentlemen, if you’d care to use these notes as firelighters!’ he said, waving the wad of money around. ‘Let’s see out the end of the world in style, at least!’
‘Oi’m losig moi mind!’ exclaimed Findeisen. ‘Oi’ve only read about this sort of thig in dime-store novels before!’
He rolled up a note, crossed his legs expansively and lit up his cigar like some bigwig. Presently, the room was shrouded in a dense fug of cigar smoke. Breuer spooned pinkish liver sausage into his mouth out of the kilogram tin he’d opened. There was no bread left. After ten minutes, he belched like he’d been consuming rotten eggs. But he carried on eating manfully. Who knew when they’d next get food? The men’s attention turned once more to the radio set. It was still playing marching tunes. The start of the transmission had already been delayed twice.
‘What’s the problem there?’
‘Maybe Hermann’s mislaid his medals!’
‘Or the RAF have laid a couple of eggs over Berlin to wish him many happy returns! I wouldn’t put it past them!’
But finally, the start of the Reichsmarschall’s speech was announced. Over the radio came the murmur of a hall full of expectantly waiting people. The presenter, his voice hushed with studied reverence, described the scene:
…representatives from each of the three branches of the armed forces plus the Waffen-SS are in attendance… all young soldiers, adjutants… and now in comes the Reichsmarschall…
The muted sound of military commands and the click of heels. The radio presenter’s voice sinks to a whisper. In shrill and excited tones, a master of ceremonies announces Göring’s speech. The room falls silent…
And then comes the voice of Göring, plump and jovial like some cheerful ‘mine host’. The officers huddle closer round the receiver. From outside, soldiers filter in, with gaunt faces, darting eyes and open mouths. Everyone listens intently. Göring waxes lyrical about the supposed causes of the war, the evil attacks by World Jewry and envious plutocrats, and of Germany’s military triumphs. How often they’d heard all that stuff, how sickeningly often. Gradually the Reichsmarschall works his way round to the present:
…And then began the second harsh winter… bitter enough to cast its icy spell over everything – rivers, lakes and marshes… making the whole terrain traversable by the enemy again.
‘It’s common knowledge every winter’s like that here,’ observed Jankuhn drily. ‘We were taught it at school!’ Saying this, he lit his fourth cigar. The things had to be smoked. It’d be a shame if the Russians…
…this enemy is tough, make no mistake. Their leadership is barbarically harsh …they’ve never been afraid of using the whip to mobilize their troops. If anyone collapsed from exhaustion, they got a bullet in the head. Anyone governing a people like that is going to be a tough adversary!