Comrades of War by Sven Hassel Read Free Book Online Page A

madame?’
    ‘No, and do leave me alone. I’m not what you think I am.’
    The Legionnaire raised his eyebrow. ‘You don’t say so! What a shame.’
    Aunt Dora blew smoke in the Legionnaire’s face. Her brutal mouth smiled.
    ‘What did you take the lady for?’ Bauer asked.
    The Legionnaire smiled, pulled his nose and took a swallow from his glass.
    ‘A distinguished lady looking for adventure, not a cheap slut going out in her mistress’ clothes.’
    Lisa sprang up. In the next second the Legionnaire’s cheek resounded with a slap. With lightning speed he caught her by the wrists. He twisted his lips to a snarl, showing a row of pearly white teeth.
    ‘ Merde , so the little thing is showing her claws? Tiny, c’est bien ça . Madame would like to dance.’
    Tiny slid heavily down from his bar stool and slouched up to them like a gorilla.
    ‘Brassy fellow, I don’t want to dance,’ Lisa snorted.
    ‘Of course you do,’ the Legionnaire decided. He nodded to Tiny.
    She tried to free herself, but the sinewy fingers of the Legionnaire locked her wrists like a steel trap. A heavy gleaming gold bracelet jingled faintly like little bells. Without a word Tiny caught her round the waist and swung her onto the floor. He yelled to the pianist:
    ‘Alois, thrash away, you pianos-puncher. Tiny’s going to crank up a whore.’
    At the little tables in the niches the guests were snickering. The girls whinnied, gloating over the elegant lady who got herself into a scrape. They looked upon Wind Force 11 as their beat, exclusively theirs. All strange women to them were like rags to a bull.
    A savage tune was struck up on the grand piano. The other guests stepped down from the little dance floor behind the curtain. Tiny geared up and rolled out on the floor. He braked with a jolt, slid sideways in small crow steps, stopped and howled, swung Lisa above his head and spun her around. Then he declutched and glided through the room in waltz time, with no regard whatever to the music. All at once he felt like an apache, flung his lady into a corner and spat on the floor. But he had her in his grip again directly – even before it had dawned on her that she’d just torn right through the room. He let out a loud roar and danced a solo round his partner, who had gradually gone half mad. Fists on hips, he circled about her in rocking motion like a rooster doing a mating dance, humming:
This will soon be over,
There’s an end to everything.
    Alois, the pianist, forgot to play. Grabbing Lisa, Tiny flew past the grand piano at top speed, but he managed in passing to butt Alois in the face.
    ‘Get a move on, you shrimp, what do you imagine you’re here for?’
    With exemplary zeal Alois started banging the keys. He beat out a spirited Hungarian waltz, Tiny meanwhile having switched over to a tango. Neither let himself be disturbed by the clashing rhythm. Paying no special attention to the music, Tiny did as he pleased, off and on twirling the helpless Lisa in the air like a propeller. She had lost a shoe. It was lying in the middle of the floor, blue and forlorn.
    Lisa wasn’t dancing any more. Her legs had given way while they were doing a rhumba. Tiny continued dancing solo, meanwhile turning her around on his shoulders. Suddenly, he came to an abrupt halt and glowered round the room. ‘Is someone spoiling for a fight?’
    No answer. He nodded, content. ‘I hope not, for your own sakes.’
    The Legionnaire chuckled. ‘Come, put your lady on the counter.’
    Puffing, Tiny chucked the semi-conscious Lisa onto the bar. He sat down beside her friend Gisela.
    The Legionnaire looked at the panting woman in front of him on the counter.
    ‘Trude,’ he commanded for no apparent reason. ‘Madame needs a tonic.’
    Another glass with a dash from Aunt Dora’s bottle.
    Presently poor Lisa was again on her feet. She’d gotten drunk. Quite suddenly. Aunt Dora’s drops. She let herself go, forgetting all about her dignified arrogance. She