He did not meet his own men until close to Bredovska, but even here Czechs living on “German” territory walked freely through. In the building he found the document burning was over and the drinking had begun. The collapse of Germany’s self-declared millennial values and its leading characters was turning a national tragedy into a bloodstained burlesque. In his previous workplaces, a power elite directed by Berlin’s mighty pen had managed to arrange an orderly withdrawal. Here the pen had snapped and the Gestapo had disintegrated into a frightened crowd of men arguing when and to whom they should surrender. To Buback’s horror they were unanimous on one point: that all the prisoners in the underground bunkers should be liquidated first, so they could not inform on their interrogators.
Regardless of the state of their relationship, he had to speak to Meckerle immediately, and coincidentally he ran into his boss on the way. The newly minted lieutenant general was just leaving his antechamber; when he spotted Buback, he motioned to him with a finger and retreated back into his office. There he poured two large cognacs as he walked, drank his in a single gulp, and began to speak, standing.
“You were right, that SS moron’s raid was a colossal failure, and then he slept right through that fiasco at the radio station. Prague is lost and I’ve given up on Schörner. Do you still have a direct line to the Prague police?”
Is it a trap? he considered hastily; is Meckerle after revenge? Does he want my confession so all he’ll need is a quick field trial and an execution that’s more like a dog slaying? But if Buback had been followed the day before, then saying no would only confirm his guilt. So he hedged his bet.
“Yes. Neither you nor Schörner withdrew your orders for cooperation.”
“Perfect. If it amuses you, then keep looking for that deviant in this shambles, but help your countrymen while you’re doing so.”
For the first time, Meckerle gave that word preference over the Nazi term kinsmen.
“I’m happy to, assuming I can figure out how to proceed, and if it’s in my power to do so.”
“We need to get out of this trap, nothing more, nothing less, otherwise the Russians will sweep us up and put our backs to the wall. Yes, the western front has stopped. They could let us retreat toward it. We’ll need our guns, of course — otherwise every kid we see will want to take a crack at us — but we’ll give them up as soon as we see the first Yank.”
No! Could this be his chance?
“And what are we offering?”
“Not to turn their baroque buildings into piles of rubble; what more could they ask for?”
“I don’t think that will be enough. They have the upper hand.”
“Probably so. What would you add?”
“Their people imprisoned in Pankrac. There’s talk here of executing them.”
“People are afraid the prisoners would want revenge.”
Buback had an answer to this one.
“We’ll give them the keys to the building once we’ve been allowed to leave.”
“Done,” the giant said without hesitation. “Move, then, and see to it.”
Buback could not risk having the former bank clerk change his mind and overrule him.
“I request a written order.”
“Have them write it up next door and hurry!”
Buback did not move.
“I have one further wish, Mr. Meckerle.”
He deliberately neither phrased it as a question nor used his superior’s title. It was a risk, to find out how far he could go with the lieutenant general.
“Speak.”
Nothing more. So he’d mellowed.
“Have you already sent your wife home?”
The question hit the mark. Meckerle’s answer was defensive.
“You know perfectly well I don’t have a ’home.’ They blasted my villa into smithereens.”
“But she’s left Prague.”
Meckerle was starting to seethe, just like he used to.
“Yes. She’s at her sister’s in Bavaria. Is this an interrogation, Buback?”
“I think it’s a man’s first responsibility to take care of those close to him. In your position, all the German civilians in Prague should fall into that category.”
There was still no outburst. Instead, the newly minted lieutenant general poured both of them another glass. But he did not drink; he was working up to a question.
“She’s still here?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Last time you found out and practically had her abducted.”
Once again he watched this powerful man practically drown in childish embarrassment.
“Well, all right. It’s in the past. We all have our weak points; don’t you? Anyway, she set matters straight right away. I should really lodge a complaint through you about excessive self-defense…. Keep your hiding place to yourself, but watch out for her; it’d be a shame to lose her.”
“I can do that as long as the Czechs don’t completely control the city. Then she and all the other Germans left will be at their mercy. There are recognized principles for dealing with soldiers that have to be upheld, even, more or less, in uprisings. But for civilians there’s only a general declaration, and so far hatred has swept it aside each and every time. Yesterday, at a meeting in Pankrác, I suggested that we concentrate all civilian personnel under our protection; they’d certainly rather hang about the barracks on a hard floor than wait in their comfortable apartments until someone breaks down the door with an ax. Kroloff convinced the other officers that every German residence in Prague should become a fortress.”
“Kroloff s a fanatic and a moron.”
“Kroloff claimed to be quoting you.”
“Now wait!” Meckerle was on the brink of exploding, but immediately regained control. “Until yesterday I had orders from the highest levels of the Reich to boost soldiers’ and workers’ morale at any price. But I depended on each of you using your own brain.”
I’ve got to ride this one out in silence, Buback thought. The statement’s author soon realized how absurd it sounded.
“Well, yes, all right….” He sighed again. “We dug the spurs in; now we’ll have to ride the horse till it throws us. You can convey your idea about the prisoners to the Czechs as my own offer. I’ll have our civilians watched, but I can’t promise much. Most of the city is no longer in our control, and to tell the truth I’m hoping none of our men get the bright idea to try to reconquer it; that would hurt us even more. Anyway, the Czechs have new allies. Vlasov’s Russian division has moved toward Prague in the naive hope that they’ll get a pardon from Stalin if they come to defend the Slavs against the Germans, even though it’s shutting the door once the horses have left the stable. But don’t tell the Czechs; it’ll just puff them up. Let me make myself clear: The Reich is over, and the Protectorate no longer exists. I have no idea what Schör-ner’s up to, and no inkling what’s keeping Frank busy, but I know what I want. I’ve still got a good few thousand men armed to the teeth here in the city center whom the Czechs would be glad to get rid of because, well, why take the chance? I’m offering a nice little capitulation, one that’ll be tolerable for both sides, in return for a retreat where we’ll take all the remaining Germans with us. Pass it on to your cops, see to it they give us the green light, and save yourself and her.”
He placed the glass firmly down, stalked off to his desk, and began to rummage through the drawers. Buback had the impression the hearing was at an end, and moved to leave.
“Wait!” Meckerle stopped him. “Does she have a way to defend herself when you’re not around?”