Jacob's Oath Read Online Free PDF

be there with you, under the tree … but, well … you know how it is …
    Hans Seeler. They knew him as Hans the Rat, the lanky camp guard with the rat’s ears
     whose daily sport was to torment Maxie until finally he beat him to death.
    Just the thought made Jacob retch, but nothing had passed his lips in twenty-four
     hours. A croaking sound spilled out, as if a hand twisted his belly from inside.
    Jacob sat up suddenly, looked around, and as he began to stand felt the ground sway
     and rise and fall. He was disoriented, he felt nauseated and lowered himself onto
     his back. Seconds passed until he remembered where he was.
    When the ground steadied, Jacob pushed himself to his knees again, and rose with care.
     He breathed deeply and took in the sharp, clear air of the heath, the sweet aroma
     of the heather.
    I need food, he thought, and water. Urgently.
    He returned to the lane that he had been following. He knew refugees had passed this
     way, because in his hunger he had wanted to pick the flowers at the side of the road
     and eat them, but for kilometers there were no flowers, just torn stems.
    He headed south to Celle and Hanover. At first he walked in the woods to avoid British
     soldiers, who seemed to be everywhere. Other people he’d met on the way had told him
     why. Only fifty kilometers from Bergen-Belsen, the northern German army had surrendered
     to the British field marshal, Bernard Montgomery. Some German units might still be
     hiding on the heath and might still be hostile. That’s all I need, he thought, survive
     the camp and get shot when I’m free. So he’d returned to take his chances on the road,
     heading for the rail station in Hanover, where he had heard the trains may be running.
     He didn’t have any papers so, like thousands of others, when he saw a British army
     roadblock he left the road, and walked around it.
    An hour on, cresting a low hill, he saw that at the bottom of a long decline the lane
     met the main road again, about half a mile away. A mass of people spilled into the
     field, and as he got closer Jacob saw why. Yet another British roadblock. With no
     more strength for another detour he decided to walk straight through it. What could
     they do, shoot him?
    Still, Benno was right, Jacob thought. He should have waited and got some kind of
     travel document. He didn’t have any identification papers. And he was German. He could
     have been an SS general as far as the Tommies were concerned. That’s what Benno had
     said, he’d warned him, that the SS were trying to hide among the population, and without
     papers he’d always be suspicious.
    But Jacob had been too eager, in too much of a hurry to get back to Heidelberg. How
     long had it been since he left home, since he went to Berlin? Seven years? And he
     was looking for someone. It couldn’t wait.
    His head pounded, his throat was parched. He had to eat and drink.
    Jacob joined the lines of people waiting to go through. Most were Germans but he heard
     Russian and French and any number of languages he didn’t recognize. All of Europe
     was on the move. Jacob shuffled forward until his turn came.
    “Papers, mate. Papieren,” the soldier said. He didn’t seem too interested. Jacob patted
     his pockets and looked concerned, but didn’t have the strength to pretend further.
     He shrugged. “I don’t have any. Sorry. No papers.”
    “Stand over there,” the soldier said. He pointed at a Land Rover where a young officer
     was drinking from a canteen. “Next.”
    Jacob stood by the lieutenant and looked at him with as much friendliness as he could
     muster.
    “What’s your story?” the officer said. “What do you want?”
    “A drink?” Jacob said in English. “Please, sir.” He couldn’t take his eyes off the
     officer’s canteen.
    “You speak English?” the officer said.
    “Yes, sir.”
    “How come?”
    “My mother was English. From Manchester.”
    “Really? I’m from Sheffield. Where is