Castle to Castle (45 page)

"The kitchen and the restaurant are full of soldiers!"

"What kind? . . . French? . . . Krauts?"

"Krauts with an officer!"

"But who? . . . which?"

"They're coming up!"

It's true, I open the door, I see them . . . they create order . . . order! . . . they clear the landing . . . and our room . . . and the toilet . . . everybody out, let's go! . . . down the stairs! nobody left on our floor . . . have they come to arrest me? . . . that's my first idea . . . I want to see that officer . . . ah, here he comes! . . . I know him! . . . I know him well! . . . it's their Oberarzt Franz Traub . . . head physician at their hospital . . . I know him all right . . . dressed . . . fit to kill! . . . dagger! swordbelt, tunic, Iron Cross! . . . gray pants, perfect crease . . . cream-colored gloves . . . dress uniform . . . just to see me? hmmm! . . . nobody left on the landing . . . all cleared . . . only his escort . . . well, two, three squads, armed . . . okay! . . . I wait for him to say something . . . he greets Lili, he takes off his cap, he bows . . . he shakes hands with me . . . I bring him into the room, I give him a chair . . . Bébert has the other . . . we have only two chairs . . . Bébert's great game is jumping from one chair to the other! . . . Bébert gives the occupant a dirty look . . . some nerve! That's his opinion! I look at them, Oberarzt Traub and Bébert . . . who's going to speak first? . . . as long as I'm the host, I start in . . . I apologize for the poor reception . . . our quarters . . . etc. . . . etc. . . . he answers in French:
"c'est la guerre!"
and a gesture meaning to think nothing of it . . . details! . . . he sweeps them away . . . introductory remarks . . . okay, okay! . . . but there's one idea he hasn't swept out of my head . . . has he come to arrest me? that's what I'm wondering . . . and this deployment of police outside our door? . . . that was how they operated when they arrested Ménétrel . . . a doctor and an escort . . . Ménétrel was a doctor too . . . this one, Traub, is the cold type of German . . . oh, of course he detests the French! . . . like all the Boches . . . no more, no less! We French are "special detestables" . . . entitled to be specially detested by every Boche in the village! . . . because we're here! and we shouldn't be! we're compromising them! . . . they all listen in on Bibici . . . all Siegmaringen!
dong! dong! dong!
Bibici tells them what to think! . . . of us and Pétain! . . . our names, our places and dates of birth, our crimes! four, five times a day! and we should all be strung up! . . . Pétain first! next the French troops in Siegmaringen! . . . three, four times a day they notified the real French! the ones we were expecting! the purest legions of the Underground! Brisson, Malraux, Robert Kemp,° the colonels in Leclerc's army . . . that we hoodlums represented exactly what the real France detested most! and that they, the good Germans, should assassinate us, and right away! that we were taking advantage of their kind hearts! . . . betraying them same as we had betrayed France! that we deserved no pity! . . . exactly the opinion of my pirates on the rue Norvins . . . who at that very moment were having the time of their lives wiping me out! . . . the Bibici is the organ of Fualdès° . . . it plays while they murder! . . . and the Boches fell for it! . . . four, five broadcasts a day! . . . they were waiting for Leclerc's army with open arms! ah, we filthy, mangy, lazy devourers of
Stam!
their
Stam!
we'd see if the Senegalese didn't make us vomit up their
Stam!
. . . and our guts! . . . and our blood! . . . the gutters would be full of it! the honor of Siegmaringen avenged! . . . and naturally Oberarzt Franz Traub tuned in on Bibici! . . . Our professional relations had always been correct, no more . . . he'd certainly get along better with the Fifis . . . he'd always refused me everything . . . like Kleindienst . . . sulphur ointment, mercury ointment, morphine . . .
Leider! Leider!
. . . he was about my own age . . . in his fifties. . . I could stand on my head before he'd admit one of my patients to the hospital! He unloaded all my cases on the
Fidelis
, I'd find them all there plus his own! . . . He'd admitted Corinne Luchaire after a terrible fuss and only on condition that she'd stay just long enough for an X-ray . . . he was like all the rest . . . he didn't want the liberators to say he'd shown the slightest indulgence . . .

But why now this plush-horse visit? . . . creased pants and dagger! . . . with his swastika? and all this escort? the whole landing full of them . . . I didn't get it . . . finally he speaks up . . . . he starts in . . .

"Colleague, I've come to ask you a favor . . ."

He speaks French without too much accent . . . he's crisp, succinct . . . he explains that he has a patient . . . a wounded German soldier . . . who's had an operation . . . he'd like me to come and see him . . . his wound . . . a shell had blown off his penis . . . that this wounded German soldier is a married man and he wants an artificial penis . . . that these artificial penises are on sale, but only in France! . . . only one manufacturer in all Europe! . . . that he, Traub, could apply to Geneva, to the Red Cross . . . but it would be much better if I were to write directly to Geneva . . . allegedly! . . . allegedly! . . . for a wounded prisoner! . . . because the Red Cross was Gaullist . . . the French prisoners were Gaullists! and I was another Gaullist! . . . Well?

"Certainly! Certainly!"

Certainly! . . . We had a little laugh . . . wasn't it funny! . . . would I? . . . of course I would! . . .

Ah, but something else . . . he had another reason for coming to see me! . . . this is more delicate . . . he hesitates . . .

"Well, you see, I have notified Monsieur de Brinon that I am obliged to bar the
Miliciens
from the hospital . . ."

Why? . . . because they defecated in the bathtubs! . . . and wrote all over the walls in shit!
"for Adolf!"
. . . Naturally Traub could understand that kind of thing!
c'est la guerre!
but the staff? . . . the nurses? . . .

"You understand, colleague, you do understand? it won't do! . . . I've notified Monsier de Brinon . . ."

Oh, ofcourse! . . . he had been perfectly right! . . .

"Then you agree with me, colleague?"

Something else coming up! . . . is he going to arrest me now? . . . make up his mind? . . . the Boches are so mealy-mouthed, they'd introduce you to the guillotine . . . "won't  you cut your little cigar? . . .
lieber Herr!
. . .
bitte sehr!
. . . help yourself! . . . the matches are over there!" No . . . it's not the knife quite yet . . . he wants to talk to me about de Brinon . . . his prostate . . . "Monsieur de Brinon came to see me the other day . . . he has difficulty in urinating . . . he's in pain . . . of course we could operate! . . . but here? . . . here? . . ." Brinon had come to me for advice, too . . . same answer as Traub . . . "When you get back!" . . . how pleasant and practical it is to have a phrase that fixes everything . . . "When you get back!" we might as well be going back to the moon . . . ! what were we going back to anyway?

At that point Traub's expression changes . . . suddenly . . . before my eyes . . . he takes a different tone . . . he'd spoken rather lightly of de Brinon and the bathtub . . . now all of a sudden he's talking very seriously . . . still about prostates . . . but this time it's his! . . . his own prostate! . . . "Aren't you a bit of a specialist?" . . . oh no! but I know something about it . . . he's been having trouble . . . he urinates frequently like Brinon . . . "how many times at night?" I ask him . . . "and in the daytime?" . . . "five . . . six times . . ."

"Would you examine me?"

"Certainly . . . please remove your trousers . . ."

He stands up, he goes to the door, he says three words to the sentries . . . I can see that Lili's presence embarrasses him . . . Lili goes to the door, too . . . "see that nobody comes in" . . . now he can take his pants off . . . there's only the two of us . . . and Bébert . . . but he's a man, too . . . he relaxes . . . he gets confidential . . . he unloads . . . he confesses . . . he's got plenty on his mind . . . plenty! . . . his hospital is a hell! . . . a battle, a free-for-all between the departments! the doctors, surgeons, and nuns! . . . they all hate each other, they accuse, they denounce! . . . worse than with us! . . . to see who could get who arrested! for everything! . . . plots! buggery! Black marketing! He confided in me, he had to get it off his chest . . . it was no surprise to me . . . go lift up the cover of the Kremlin . . . the House of Lords . . . the
Figaro
. . . or
l'Humanité
. . . any cover . . . salons . . . political parties, Castles . . . populaces . . . backstages . . . monasteries . . . hospitals . . . you'll be all worn out the way they denounce each other, get each other arrested, garrot each other, drive spikes under each other's nails . . .

"You won't speak of all this? . . . you promise, colleague?"

"Professional secrecy!"

The tears came to his eyes . . . those people in the hospital! . . . he was sobbing! . . . worse than the people in the Castle!

"You won't mention it to a soul?"

I swear! . . . I double-swear! . . . not a word! . . . he wouldn't ask for advice at the hospital . . . no, never! . . . but he could trust me? . . .
ya! ya! ya!
. . . he tells me the whole story . . . he'd been to Tübingen, he'd consulted a specialist, a
Professor
. . . at the university . . . in the Professor's opinion his prostate was quite operable . . . sufficiently enlarged . . . but he, Traub, didn't consider himself operable at all! . . . not at all! . . . in fact he was scared shitless of being operated . . . and admitted it . . . yelled it in fact! . . . really afraid! . . . especially under the circumstances! so what about me? what did I think?

"The prostate, my dear colleague, you know as well as I, is subject to inflammation . . . we can wait . . . it will calm down . . . naturally surgeons always want to operate . . . eighty percent of men over fifty are prostatic . . . we don't operate them all! certainly not! . . . they piss on their heels now and then . . . what of it? what difference? they'll die a natural death! . . . they only smell of urine a little . . . is that anything to worry about? you'll be careful, Traub, that's all! you'll watch yourself . . . no liquor . . . no beer . . . no spices . . . no sexual intercourse . . . and in ten years you'll go back to see your specialist again . . . you'll come and tell me what he thinks . . . and whether he's been operated . . ."

My comforting words did him a world of good . . . with his hard, hatchet Boche face, he looked at me almost affectionately . . . absolutely! . . . the nectar of my words! . . .

"Would you examine me, my dear colleague?"

"Why, certainly!"

I slip on my rubber finger . . . smear it with vaseline . . . he takes his pants off . . . his gray pants with the fine crease . . . he kneels down on my cot . . . he doesn't remove his tunic or his sword belt or his dagger . . . I palpate . . . yes . . . it's a fact! . . . his prostate is considerably enlarged . . . in fact it seems rather hard . . .

"Oh, all that can wait . . . with a very strict diet . . . your prostate will take care of itself . . ."

"Excellent! . . . excellent, my dear colleague! . . . but my diet?"

"Noodles! . . . just noodles! . . . nothing else!"

It's all right with him! he adjusts his pants . . . his sword belt, his revolver . . .

"Oh yes, my dear colleague . . . oh yes!"

"Come back and see me in a month! . . . well see if it's better . . ."

Now I'm the boss! . . . very honestly, without deluding him, I'll be easier in my mind from month to month . . . I'd been worried . . . why all these men on the landing? this escort? . . . and all armed . . . I was on the point of asking him . . . I never found out . . . maybe everything he told me was hokum? . . . but the prostate at least . . . I could be sure of that . . . Well, finally he gets up and leaves . . . ah, one word more! . . .

"You'll drop in at the hospital tomorrow, colleague?"

"Yes, yes, certainly!"

"Splendid! To see about that penis!"

He whispers in my ear . . .