The Commissar Read Online Free PDF Page B

is to go – and to
keep on going
. You stop and everything else stops. The Divisional Commander wants this job over fast, repeat fast!’
    ‘Rotten rat-race,’ mumbles the Old Man angrily. He peeps cautiously over the turret rim. ‘The bridge,’ he hisses. ‘But fast!’
    ‘Two more dead un’s for the list,’ grins Tiny, proudly, holding up the two dead turkeys.
    ‘2 Section follow me,’ the Old Man says into the communicator. He is so angry we can hear the sound of his teeth grinding.
    ‘What you mad at?’ asks Tiny, looking up at him with his head on one side. ‘You’re gonna get ’ot roast turkey with all the trimmin’s, just like it was
really
Christmas. Enjoy the war, the peace’ll be terrible! There won’t be no parties ’eld in the synagogues for us thousand-year soldiers.’
    Porta pulls to a halt just before the bridge and falls back resignedly in his seat.
    ‘The tour makes a temporary stop here,’ he says, with ashort laugh. ‘The neighbours’ve dropped half a forest across the road. Call the Pioneers. That’s what
they’re
for.’
    ‘They don’t give a damn for us,’ snarls the Old Man. ‘Two of you get out and sling a wire round those tree-trunks so’s we can pull ’em out of the way.’
    ‘Not me,’ cackles Porta. ‘The driver is not to be used for any work other than driving, and is to be rested on every possible occasion. I’m bein’ rested!’
    ‘Julius and Sven! Outside! Quick’s the word,
please
!’
    Super-soldier Heide is out of the tank in a flash. I hesitate before opening the hatch and leaving the protection of the tank’s steel walls. There one is safe from the bullets and hand-grenades of the infantry at least. The air outside hums with the sound of them, like a nest of angry wasps.
    ‘What if the neighbours attack us?’ I ask nervously when I am outside.
    ‘That’s an easy one,’ grins Porta, racing his motor. ‘We go into reverse. The 1000-year Reich didn’t entrust us with this valuable tank to let any silly sod of a neighbour go smashin’ it up. Far as you two are concerned you can be proud an’ happy. You’ll fall like heroes, an’
Grofaz
’ll send your families a postcard.
Heil! Sieg
!’
    We look up fearfully at the rough sides of the tank as Porta crashes the hatch cover shut.
    ‘Cowardly swine,’ hisses Heide bitterly, as the Old Man follows Porta’s example and closes the turret hatch.
    ‘The vaunted heroic death comes to us in a dirty snowdrift,’ I whisper to myself.
    ‘What the hell are you mumbling about?’ snarls Julius, staring at me. We take cover behind the huge tree-trunks, and work feverishly to get the wires into place.
    I cannot be bothered to answer him. He would never understand, anyway, with his
herrenvolk
mentality.
    Tracer from the turret MG whines over our heads, drawing firefly chains into the Russian tank defence positions. In a hail of whistling shrapnel fragments we finally manage to make the tow-wire fast around the first of the treetrunks.We haul the wire after us to the tank and loop it over the tow-hooks. Our hands are cut to pieces, and blood drips from our fingertips. I drop the wire for a second to blow on my mutilated hands. Heide explodes into a howl of rage.
    ‘You lazy pig. Letting me do all the work.’ He rips his pistol from its holster, and points it at me with outstretched arms, like a film actor. ‘Get up, you cardboard soldier, or I’ll shoot your head off!’
    At that moment I hate him so much it hurts, the puffed-up shit. How annoyingly pompous he looks, standing there tall and slim, with lips so thin they are almost invisible, and icy-cold, blue eyes. Not even the newest war-mad recruit could be so regimentally correctly dressed as Julius. When it came to it what did he know more than a recruit does? Nothing!
    Raging I climb back onto my feet, murderous thoughts whirling through my brain. I know Heide is crazy enough to really shoot me if I don’t get up quickly. And worst of all he