Assignment Gestapo by Sven Hassel Read Free Book Online

bit more than what they do, I reckon this flaming war might be over by now.’
    The Old Man handed the Nagan back to Tiny and we set off warily through the night to rejoin the rest of the Company. Barcelona was nagging on about the girl again. She obviously worried him, and I don’t think, at that stage, that any of us were inclined to believe the Legionnaire’s story of her having volunteered the information. It sounded totally unlikely, and for my own part I was pretty certain that Tiny had been at her with his lethal steel wire.
    ‘Why didn’t you bring her along with you?’ demanded Barcelona. ‘You know bloody well what those bastards are likely to do when they find out. You’ve seen the way they treat people—’
    ‘That’s no concern of ours,’ said the Old Man. ‘We’re just here to fight the war, not play nursemaid to traitors.’
    ‘I disagree,’ said Barcelona, hotly. ‘Paid traitors are one thing. People who are forced to be traitors are quite a different matter. You put a pistol to someone’s head and—’
    ‘Look,’ said the Legionnaire, ‘for the last time, nobody forced that bitch to be a traitor. She chose to. Of her own free will. That howling brat they had back there – that was hers. And you know who the father was? A Scharführer in the bloody SS! That’s the sort of whore she was!’
    ‘He probably raped her,’ said Barcelona.
    ‘I don’t give a sod what he did to her,’ said the Legionnaire, coldly. ‘All I know is that on her own admission she’s been busy betraying her own people right, left and bloody centre whenever the opportunity’s arisen. She told us so herself. Seems to think it’s her mission in life. And in my book that’s treachery, and any traitor can go and get stuffed for all I care, whichever side he’s on.’
    ‘She,’ said Barcelona.
    ‘She, he, or flaming it,’ retorted the Legionnaire, ‘it’s all one to me.’
    ‘She probably thinks she’s in love with the bloke—’
    ‘Christ almighty, a second ago you were saying he raped her!’
    ‘Anyway, she was a bitch,’ said Tiny, in conclusive tones, ‘and I don’t give a monkey’s crutch piece what happens to her. She shopped her own mother, she told us so. Got her sent off to Siberia, all for nicking a leg of pork . . . I’d have done her in on the spot, except we had more important things to think about.’
    It seemed obvious, now, that the girl had indeed volunteered the information. Tiny would have been the last to conceal another victory for his steel wire, and the Legionnaire would have seen no reason to conceal it if the truth had been dragged from her by force. He was never wantonly vicious, but he could be ruthless when the need arose and he never made any secret of the fact. On the whole, therefore, I was now inclined to believe his story, and I accordingly felt little concern for the girl’s probable fate. Barcelona continued to harp on it purely, I think, as a matter of principle.
    ‘She doesn’t stand a chance,’ he said. ‘They’ll polish her off in no time. You ever seen what they do to traitors in this part of the world? They’re only half civilized, these people. They’re—’
    ‘Spare us the details,’ said the Old Man. ‘Do you mind?’
    Stege suddenly laughed; bitter and reflective.
    ‘The enemy values treachery yet scorns the traitor . . . Schiller was quite right, apparently.’ .
    ‘Schiller?’ said Porta, blankly. ‘What the hell’s he got to do with anything? He’s dead, ain’t he?’
    ‘Oh, long since,’ said Stege. ‘Before you were born . . .’
    ‘You should have seen the way his tongue came out of his mouth,’ said Tiny, boastfully.
    We turned to stare at him, thinking, naturally enough, that he was referring to Schiller. Not a bit of it, however: he was merely reliving his latest moment of glory with the steel wire, when he had strangled the NKVD man.
    ‘He had his hands round my neck, but I was too strong for him. He never said a word.