Now-exactly where had that shot come from? And was the German sniper enough of a creature of habit to visit that place again? The last fellow had been, and it cost him. This guy? Time would tell. Vaclav resolved not to check from right here, though.
One other question crossed his mind. If he'd get himself a throw with a fancy whore and all he could drink for punching the enemy sniper's ticket, what did the Nazi bastard stand to win by eliminating him? HEINZ NAUMANN GRUNTED in what might as easily have been satisfaction or annoyance. His bare arms were greasy to the elbow; Theo Hossbach would have rolled up the sleeves on his coveralls to mess around inside the engine compartment, too. The panzer commander held up a wrench in triumph. "There," he said. "Goddamn carb won't give us any more trouble."
"Till the next time," Adi Stoss put in.
Naumann glared. Oh, Lord, they're going to bite pieces off each other again, Theo thought. Sure as hell, Naumann said, "Yeah, well, I didn't see you fix it, Herr Doktor Professor Mechanical Genius."
"It's a piece of crap," Stoss answered. "Nobody's going to fix it so it stays fixed. We just have to keep the valves clean, and to clean 'em out when they clog up in spite of us."
He was right, which made Naumann no happier. Theo wished he could get between them and stop them from rubbing on each other so roughly. But that wasn't his way. When people locked horns, he didn't try to separate them. He backed away and watched them in something not far from horror.
"Well, anyway, the old beast will keep running a while longer," Heinz said. To Theo's relief, Adi seemed willing to leave that alone.
Other panzer crews also tinkered with their machines. If you didn't tinker with your panzer whenever you could, it would break down when you needed it most. More often than not, you wouldn't get the chance to tinker with it after that. Somebody would plant you where you'd fallen, with a fence picket to mark the grave. You wouldn't even get a helmet on top of the picket, the way a dead infantryman would.
A hooded crow, black and gray, hopped up to Theo, looking for a handout. The birds were beggars, but they weren't so thieving as their smaller jackdaw cousins. Theo tore off a bit of black bread and tossed it to the crow. The bird seized the prize in its strong bill and flew off toward the closest tree to eat it.
"Now you'll have twenty of them scrounging from you," Heinz said. "Lousy things are as bad as the packs of Jew beggars we get around here. They even dress like 'em." He laughed at his own wit. He wasn't so far wrong, either. The Jews who filled a lot of villages in these parts did mostly wear black, with lighter shirts and blouses for relief. Laughing again, Naumann added, "Bills are about the same, too."
Theo also laughed, nervously. The way things were these days, you took a chance if you didn't laugh when somebody made fun of Jews. He got paid to take chances against the Reich's enemies. Nobody gave him a pfennig to take chances against his own side.
Adi Stoss chuckled, too. "Where I come from, the crows are black all over," he said. "They don't have the gray hoods they grow here."
"So they're niggers instead of kikes, huh?" Heinz said. "Only matters to the lady crows, I guess."
"One of these days, Sergeant, you'll open your mouth so wide, you'll fall right in," Stoss said.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Naumann tossed the wrench in the air and caught it in his callused hand. "You want to make something of it?"
That went too far for even Theo to take-the more so since he was sure Adi wouldn't back down. "Enough, both of you," the radioman said. Naumann and Stoss both looked at him in surprise, as they did whenever he spoke up. He went on, "Haven't we got enough to worry about with the Ivans?"
Neither crewmate answered that. What could you say? Off in the distance, a Russian machine gun stammered out death. Another gun replied a moment later. Theo cocked his head, listening. That one sounded French, which meant it had to belong to the Poles. They made some of their own stuff, but scrounged the rest from whoever was selling on any given Tuesday.
"Our allies," Heinz said scornfully, so he'd also figured out to whom the second machine gun belonged.
"Would you rather fight them along with the Russians?" Stoss asked.
"What I'd rather, Private, is that you keep your big mouth shut," Naumann snapped. "So try it, hey?"
Stoss didn't say another word, but if that wasn't murder in his eyes, Theo had never seen it. A panzer crew was supposed to work together. Theory was wonderful. This particular crew had as many clogs and hitches as the much-maligned carburetor.
The company commander was a bright young first lieutenant named Schmidt. The captain who had been in charge went up in flames with his Panzer II. There wasn't enough of him left to bury, with or without a helmet over his grave. Schmidt was trying his best to do a good job. He came around every evening, as the captain had before him. "Alles gut?" he asked.
"Jawohl, Herr Oberleutnant," Heinz answered. "Carb is working the way it's supposed to again." He said nothing about whether the crew was working the way it was supposed to. Maybe he didn't even worry about it. From his perspective, from a commander's perspective, Adi might have been no more than a bit of grit in the works. He might have been, but Theo didn't believe it for a minute.
"Well, all right," Schmidt said. "The push southwest goes on tomorrow. If everything works the way it's supposed to, we'll link up with more Wehrmacht units in the afternoon. They aren't far away."
"That's good, sir," Heinz said. Theo found himself nodding. He saw Adalbert Stoss doing the same thing. They'd wedged their way through the swarming Russians this long. Maybe they wouldn't have to do it any more. Maybe there'd be a real front again soon. The Red Army wasn't as good at blitzkrieg as the Wehrmacht. All the same, being on the wrong end of it wasn't much fun.
"All right," Lieutenant Schmidt repeated. "We move at dawn-the sooner we give the Reds one in the teeth, the better for us." He ambled off to talk to the next panzer's crew.
Dawn came later than it would have a month before. Summer was going, autumn on the way. What would winter be like around here? Worse than the last one in the Low Countries and France-Theo was sure of that.
He ducked down into the back of the panzer with relief. On the move, the crew would talk about business, and that would be that. The radio net was full of traffic. Some of it was in unintelligible Polish and Russian, but most came from the Germans moving south to cut off the Russians who'd moved west to cut off the Germans moving north to cut off the earlier wave of Russians moving west. War could get complicated.
Down in what was now "independent" Slovakia, more German divisions were on the move, these heading north into Poland. Had they been attacking the Poles, the country would have fallen in a couple of weeks. But the Poles were Germany's friends… for the moment.
The first hint Theo had that things weren't going perfectly was the machine-gun bullets slamming into the Panzer II's armored side. "Panzer halt!" Heinz shouted. Adi hit the brakes. Heinz traversed the turret and fired a long burst from the machine gun and several rounds from the 20mm cannon. "That'll shift the Red arselicks," he said. "Go on now." The panzer clanked forward again.
Despite the earphones, Theo heard more gunfire outside. A rifle round smacked the panzer. Theo tensed. Anything bigger than a rifle round would punch right through. He'd bailed out of one burning machine. That was why he had nine and a half fingers now. He didn't want to find out what he'd be missing if he had to do it again.
Naumann stuck his head and shoulders out of the turret. Without a decent cupola, you needed to do that every so often if you wanted to know what was going on. French turrets had proper cupolas. So did Panzer IIIs. For that matter, so did the very latest Panzer IIs. But not this one…