chair forward and said with a smile:
'Madam, will you take a seat?'
'Shut your fat gob, or I'll shut it for you!' was Porta's disrespectful answer to the newly promoted guard commander.
Pluto waved the threat aside and shoved Porta into the chair.
'Excuse me, madam. Are you by any chance looking round for your husband? My name is Obergefreiter Gustav Eicken, guard commander, husband-collector, in whose sensitive hands the security of this barracks lies. Or perhaps, madam wishes something else?' With a sudden movement he flung up Porta's skirts so that his sharp knees were revealed in his long army underpants.
'Ah, the latest in Paris fashions no doubt? Very charming, madam. Not every lady possesses such dainty things.'
Porta hit out drunkenly at the big broad-grinning docker, and missed. Abruptly he gave up the struggle.
'God, I'm dry! Bring some beer.'
It all ended by us stowing Porta away in an empty cell. He was too tight to be transported to the company billet. He had been touring a series of shady pubs, from the 'Red Rose' to the 'Merry Cow'. According to him he had had enough girls to last him for two years. In his manoeuvres with the last girl he had had his uniform stolen. The only things left of his kit were his long underpants and infantry boots. These he swore he wore in bed. Somebody had written with oil paint 'Merry Cow' on his bare bottom.
Pluto put him in the guard-book as in by 11 p.m., one hour before the night passes ran out. That at that time he had not yet been promoted to guard commander he completely ignored.
The remainder of the night we played pontoon with our prisoner's money. As Pluto said, Reinhardt didn't need money now.
Guard inspection by the orderly officer came at 8 a.m. and most of the twenty minutes were taken up by explaining what lay behind Pluto's report.
When at last Lieutenant Wagner got the facts into his head, he fell nearly weeping into his chair and signed his name helplessly under Pluto's long description in the guard-book of one of the most eventful nights in the depot's tedious history.
The dangerous point for Wagner was that he had not heard the shot. He must have been either asleep or absent without permission. His knowledge of Colonel von Weisshagen convinced him that the latter had been sitting patiently for hours waiting for the report that he as duty officer, should have given at once in such circumstances either to the commandant or his adjutant. And it was now six hours since the rifle had been fired. Lieutenant Wagner would be posted to a combat-unit now as sure as eggs were eggs.
As the tragedy dawned on him, he opened and shut his mouth without uttering a sound. But he let out a bellow like a bull's when Pluto smiling reported that the commandant had been well pleased with the patrol, and that this fact would have to be endorsed in the book by the orderly officer. Gnashing his dentures together, the broken Wagner staggered away to face what the day held in store for him.
4
One sunny morning we collected them from the prison. In a bumping lorry they took their last ride.
They helped by pushing the vehicle free when it stuck. They seemed to push their bodies forward to help the twelve bullets find their way.
It happened in the name of the German people.
State Murder
Porta was the last one to crawl into the big Krupp diesel lorry. The vehicle creaked and grated as the gears changed. We swung out from the company billet and made a short halt at the headquarters guard to collect the driving-permit.
On our way through the town we shouted and waved at girls. Porta started telling a dirty story. Moller asked him to shut up. A short but violent quarrel sprang up. It was interrupted as we drove into the infantry's barrack square. We halted in front of the Standort guard-room.
Sergeant-Major Paust, in charge of our party, jumped out of the driver's seat and rang the bell. Six of us jumped out and followed Paust into the prison's reception office. Here we found
Alexa Wilder, Raleigh Blake