Pursuit by Robert L. Fish Read Free Book Online

asking for clothes from the victims; they want the best pick of everything before we ship it to the central warehouse in town. One woman, bless her, even wrote in asking for a baby carriage; she said she preferred a new one if we could let her have it. At least she was considerate enough not to specify color.” He looked at the doctor. “It’s true, you know.”
    â€œI believe you, but—”
    â€œBut what?” Von Schraeder did not wait for an answer. “Is our genius of a commandant going to cap the total destruction of the Maidanek camp by dynamiting the entire city of Lublin as well? Assuming Müeller can find the dynamite? Is he going to order the bulldozing over of a whole city? Does he intend to plant his precious grass on what is left of Lublin Castle afterward, and plant sod on the rubble of Radziwell Palace? And what about the million pairs of shoes in the central warehouse? Is he going to cover them with his grass seed and hope the Russians will think the shoelaces are plant shoots? It’s ridiculous!”
    â€œStill—” Having said that, the doctor had nothing more to say. He marched along, studying the ground beneath his feet.
    â€œBesides,” von Shraeder added, not particularly touched by the look of woe on the doctor’s face, but feeling the man needed a little encouragement none the less, “when and if an exact description of what we have been doing here is given to the world, very few will believe it. Very few. Atrocity stories are old. They wouldn’t believe it coming from Catholic nuns, let alone from the mouths of Russians.”
    Of course the very few would probably include the justices at any war-crimes trials, but von Schraeder saw no need to mention this to the doctor, at least not at this time. This was one further point for discussion in the car the next day, and had been planned, almost orchestrated, for that period. He paused to eject his cigarette stub from the holder, blew through the holder to clear it of remaining smoke, and tucked it into his pocket. Above them the floodlights suddenly blazed into light from the trapezoidal watchtowers set about the six fields, bathing the area in cold unnatural light, wiping the sight of Lublin’s silhouetted skyline from the night. Von Schraeder sighed.
    â€œBut enough of these topics. Let’s get that drink. Besides, you’ve had your eye on that girl Sarah ever since I picked her out of the last shipment and brought her home. I have a feeling you’d be willing to postpone your packing for an hour or so if you could take her to bed.”
    â€œI? My eye on her? Never!” The doctor did his best to sound shocked at the suggestion. “I don’t even know her—”
    â€œThe girl you examined for venereal disease,” von Schraeder said gently. “The last one, less than ten days ago. I was there when you examined her, remember? I saw the look on your face. And the bulge in your pants.”
    â€œOh, her,” Schlossberg said, his face reddening. “She’s Jewish—”
    â€œTrue,” von Schraeder said dryly, “and the vodka we’ll be drinking is Russian, and the slivovitz will be Polish, and that never stopped us from enjoying them, did it?” He smiled at the doctor. “If it eases your conscience, she isn’t circumcised. I’ve looked.”
    They were almost by Field I by this time, approaching the baths and the gas pens. The flower beds surrounding the baths and the gas chambers gave a heady perfume to the night; water splashed from the fountain in front of the death house the prisoners had built under orders. Within the angled barbed wire of Field I prisoners stood or wandered about aimlessly. Those at the wire, staring hopelessly out, turned quickly at sight of the trim colonel and his awkward-looking companion; Colonel von Schraeder had been known to select men for the gas chamber merely because he had not