It was late in the afternoon when the train finally arrived at its destination. Langhof and Ludtz quickly disembarked.
“It was a tiring journey,” Ludtz said.
Langhof did not feel tired. He felt exhilarated. “Not too tiring, Dr. Ludtz,” he said. “Rather a pleasant ride, I think.”
A tall Special Section officer stood a few feet from them. “Excuse me, gentlemen,” he said, “but you are Drs. Ludtz and Langhof?”
“Yes, we are,” Langhof said.
The officer stepped forward. “Allow me to present myself,” he said. “My name is Rausch. I have been assigned to direct you to the Camp.”
“Excellent,” Ludtz said.
“I hope you had a pleasant journey,” Rausch said.
Langhof inhaled the cool, crisp air. “Very refreshing to be in the countryside again.”
Rausch looked at him quizzically. “Yes,” he said. “You are Langhof?”
“That’s right.”
Rausch held up two folders in his right hand. “Your picture is in your dossier.”
“Thank you for meeting us,” Langhof said.
“The Camp is a few miles from the village,” Rausch said. “I have a car waiting.”
“Excellent,” Ludtz said.
Rausch watched him, unsmiling. “Yes,” he said dully. “Well, we’d better be on our way.”
Rausch escorted them to the car and joined them in the back seat. “To the Camp,” he said to the driver.
The car pulled away from the train station, then made its way out of the village. Drifts of snow were piled high along the shoulders of the road. In the distance, Langhof saw two peasants struggling with a mule. They looked like small ink stains on the landscape.
“Is the weather always this brisk?” Langhof asked, feeling talkative.
Rausch kept his eyes on the road, only occasionally glancing over the driver’s shoulder to judge the distance traveled. “It is not the best climate,” he said. “Certainly not as pleasant as you have in the capital.”
“Have you been in the capital recently?” Langhof asked amiably.
“Not for years.” Rausch offered no elaboration.
“The capital is full of activity,” Ludtz said.
Rausch said nothing. He kept his gloved hands clenched in his lap.
The car bumped slightly, and Rausch stared about nervously. “There is always the possibility of ambush,” he said.
“Ambush?” Ludtz said with fear.
“Yes,” Rausch replied. “Only a few days ago a major and two lieutenants were killed outside the village.” He looked at Langhof. “One cannot be too careful. Stay near the Camp. That’s the safest place.”
It was at this point that Langhof realized, fully rather than simply intellectually, that he was now in a war zone. The snow suddenly appeared menacing, a place where partisans lurked in wait for men dressed like himself.
“But we are so far from the front,” Ludtz protested.
Rausch did not look at him. “The whole world is at war, Doctor. Everything is a war. It is no longer a matter of fronts.”
Ludtz glanced fearfully at Langhof. “I hadn’t counted on this.”
“Don’t worry,” Langhof said. “We’ll be safe once we’re in the Camp.” He turned to Rausch. “How far are we from the front lines, may I ask?”
Rausch seemed to sneer. “What difference does it make?”
“I was only asking.”
“Did you think you could spend the whole war in a nice warm office, Doctor?”
“We volunteered for this position,” Ludtz said quickly.
Rausch stared at Ludtz without pity. “Never lie to me, Doctor,” he said. “You were assigned here.”
“Yes, but —” Ludtz stammered.
“What exactly will our duties be?” Langhof asked.
“To take orders. From your superiors,” Rausch replied. He uttered the word superiors as if using such a term was a mere convention of language, a way of referring to people of higher rank but lower esteem.
“But surely you have some definite plans for us,” Langhof said.
“Plans?”
“Assignments. Research.”
“Oh, yes,” Rausch said. “We do.”
Langhof attempted to break through Rausch’s reserve. “Look, this is all very new to us — to Ludtz and myself. Perhaps you could give us some advice for getting along well in the Camp.”
Rausch turned to Langhof, his face expressionless. “Always keep your pistol close by. Then, if something tragic happens, you can use it to blow your head off.”
As the car moved forward through the brilliantly white fields, Langhof — despite Rausch’s dark eccentricities — felt another surge of anticipation. Beside him, Ludtz sat nervously, clearly alarmed. But Langhof could only remember the aridity of the Institute, and compared to that, anything that gave the slightest sign of intellectual fecundity was cause for jubilation. He could sense again the dispensation of the stars.
Farther on, Rausch ordered the driver to pull the car over beside a large wooden ramp. A train puffed and smoked beside the ramp, and Langhof could hear people shouting inside the cattle cars.
“This is how your patients arrive, Doctors,” Rausch said.
Armed soldiers were scurrying back and forth about the train like ants over a carcass. At the far end of the ramp a band was playing a sprightly melody.
Ludtz, who only now seemed to have noticed that the car had stopped, leaned forward. “What’s that?” he asked.
“A piece from The Magic Flute, I believe,” Rausch replied.
“No,” Ludtz said. “I mean these people in the train.”
“Prisoners,” Rausch said casually. He took a cigarette from his overcoat pocket and lit it.
Langhof sat rigidly in place, watching.
The soldiers had now assembled themselves in a kind of rough order. Some stood, legs spread apart, on top of the train, their machine guns pointing down toward the locked doors. Others had formed a cordon around the train. Some held their guns rigidly forward, others let the barrels droop slightly toward the ground.
“So many prisoners?” Langhof asked.
“Yes,” Rausch said. “Many prisoners.”
At a signal several soldiers stepped forward and began unlocking the doors of the train. The people seemed to explode onto the ground as if vomited from the cars.
“Many prisoners,” Rausch whispered.
As the prisoners dropped from the cars, the soldiers began shouting at them: “Line up by fives! By fives! Quick now! Warm meals are waiting!”
The people continued pouring out of the cars: old men in suits, women with their heads covered by thick shawls, a group of children all dressed in their school uniforms of little red berets and short blue jackets, a man hobbling forward on a crutch. The air filled with the bustle of their disembarkation, their cries and moans and indiscriminate yells. Some scurried about looking for lost relatives, lovers, friends. Others merely stood with their arms folded, staring into the blinding white light.
All around them the soldiers continued their shouts: “By fives! Line up by fives!”
Some of the people began to assemble themselves as the soldiers instructed. But the general confusion seemed to paralyze the rest. Then the soldiers fell upon them, marching into the stunned crowd, beating them with truncheons. Some fell to the ground. Others merely staggered to the side. Some began to shout frantic questions at the assaulting guards. Others instantly fell to the ground and began to weave and wail. An old rabbi dropped to his knees and began digging a hole with his hands. Above him, a guard stood laughing. A woman spread a large quilt on the snow, laid her baby on it, and began to diaper the child. A soldier rushed forward and pulled her to her feet. “No time for that now!” he shouted. Then he pushed her into the moving crowd. The baby continued to lie on its back, watching the dark figures pass above it. It seemed amused, and for a moment it smiled.