North (12 page)

"Look at his bathrobe!"

I make him feel it . . . super-toweling! must be from London or America! . . . where'd he get it? . . . he makes no secret . . .

In Lisbon! Anything you want! I've more down there in the bunker, just say the word . . ."

Heart of gold, Harras! naturally we'd help ourselves . . . why not? . . . sure he was a Nazi. . . but when I consider after all these years how many people helped themselves . . . piled up billions with the Jews and the Nazis and aren't any the worse for it, I can see we were stinking virgins . . . wait till Juanovici ° gets out of quarantine, he'll have a few tales to tell! . . . take the Duchess, just because she toppled the throne with her ass they pay her pretty near three hundred millions for her story . . . so you can imagine what the valiant and trusty Monsieur Joseph . . .

Hey there, I'm flying away! I'm losing you! As incoherent a jackass as X or Y! . . . drunk on Words! . . . so where were we? with Professor Harras in that big
Reichskammer
park . . . you don't say! Hey, look at that! another palace, gutted, falling apart . . . covered with woodbine and coils of barbed wire . . . The Parc Monceau is pretty messy, but this is something! little piles of statue heads like somebody'd been bowling . . . in the plaster and in the sand . . . all that must have been on purpose, ruins used for camouflage . . . I ask Harras . . .

"You going to blow us up?"

"On the fourteenth of July, Céline! The fourteenth of July! not before!"

"Ah! for Adolf's birthday!"

No use pussyfooting with him! . . . quite the contrary . . . he saw us as we were, ultra-defeatist . . . as long as we spoke French, we could say what we pleased . . . our function was to be absurd, we could go the limit! . . . our nature was to be absolutely debile, gaga, hopeless, he was in love with everything connected with France . . . our goofy behavior, our incendiary ravings, no importance whatever! trifles! childishness! . . . our mean digs! the picaresque tradition . . . our prodigious "historicism" redeemed it all! . . .
ach, was nun? 
. . . we, the last repositories of the
"plaisir de vivre"!
we had every license . . . The Teuton is the last customer on the planet who was willing to put up with anything we said or did . . . his army was undoubtedly the last and only that was ready to die for us . . . we showed him our true natures! The future doesn't concern us, you'll say . . . the future belongs to the young! . . . I wish them luck! . . . Harras, the Boche, the hundred-percent Nazi, didn't take us for Hitlerites! certainly not! . . . all he asked was that we speak French . . . if we'd been slightly Jewish, slightly Negroid, with a dash of Spanish, heavens above! why not? or the whole United States! what of it? . . . he wasn't simpleminded, he didn't wear blinders . . . for instance, there in the park, he shushed me, he wanted me to listen to the planes passing by . . .

"Not German! not German at all! . . . Listen, Céline!"

We listened.

"Musik!"

A purring pleasant to the ear! . . . nothing like their Heinkels! pitiful hardware! . . . we could hear for ourselves . . . I finally had a chance to ask him what he was doing . . .

"I travel, my dear colleague . . . I travel . . . twice a month to Lisbon . . . little meetings with the other side, see what they have to say . . . exchange of views . . . have they seen any typhus? . . . are we having any trouble in the East? . . . No, never! . . . all the meat is vaccinated! . . . on their side! . . . on our side! ho-ho!"

Something else to laugh about!

In your opinion, my dear colleague, what can be done to end these wars?"

"A new virus!"

"I haven't got one! . . . neither have they! Ho-ho-ho!"

I could see he wasn't taking things too hard . . .

Where did I meet this Harras? . . . I'll make a clean breast! . . . at a film showing on the Champs-Elysées . . . a highly technical film about typhus in Poland . . . typhus is my little specialty . . . but I'd been seen at that picture! . . . the coffins I received after that! . . . there my fatal mistake was exhibiting something more or less serious to the common herd! . . . rear ends, yes! more and more enormous tits!. . . fine! sumptuous banquets! supercarsl super-catch-and-groan . . . ideal! just so you steer clear of anything serious!

What I liked about Haïras was that the rest of them were small fry, he at least was important . . . as long as we were in his "Commando," he'd show us everything . . . not just his shell-hole sauna! and his statue-head bowling alley! . . . was the rest underground? . . . yes! . . . yes! . . . yes! . . . anything that interested me . . .

We follow him . . . a tunnel . . . under the wreckage . . . ah, an entirely different style from Faustus's hanging gardens . . . from outside you couldn't see a thing . . . we follow Harras . . . a cave . . . a little light . . . another . . . offices tucked away in the walls . . . an enormous room furnished like New York, but at least sixty feet underground . . . typists too, just like America, cute, in pants . . .

"What do you say, Céline?"

"It's the New Europe!"

But that's not all. . . more offices . . . two floors down . . . you can hear the ventilators . . . more smiling typists . . . Harras strides through like a pasha, answering with little
heils
. . . still in his fluffy bathrobe . . . lemon and sky-blue . . . another little staircase . . . the library! . . . a whole floor of records . . . next door another grotto with the catalogue . . . this is what the Chancellery must be like . . . eighty feet underground . . . that's why we hadn't seen anything . . . Adolf must be still deeper . . . but hold on! the cop and his visas?

"Harras, my dear colleague . . . just a second . . . would you look at our photos?"

I hand them over. . .

"Do you recognize us?" 

He looks at them . . . he looks at us . . . 

"Well of course . . . I recognize you . . . but a stranger, especially a
polizei
would find it difficult. . ."

"But our residence permits?"

"Good old Céline! always worried! . . . it's nothing . . . nothing at alll . . . I'll telephone . . . after our tea . . . they'll send them over . . ."

"Mine too?"

Le Vig was even less convinced than me . . . the "man from nowhere" wasn't himself any more . . .

"Why, of course, my dear Le Vigan! Yours too!"

He saw we had our doubts . . .

"Just a minute . . . I'll ring them now . . ."

A young lady . . .
telefon! Polizei!
he's connected . . .
heil Hitler!
he starts in . . . in an undertone . . . the facts . . . and then our names . . . Le Vigan, Lili, and me . . .

"There . . . that does it . . ."

He hangs up . . .

"You'll have them in fifteen minutes!"

There are times when an "in" with authority is very pleasant . . . blinking blubbering blazes! when you've got hyenas on your ass, there's no place like the lion's mouth . . . better than being torn to pieces by rats, relations, friends . . . and inamoratas . . . here in this underground
Reichsgesundt
, one thing at least, we had time to think . . . we didn't on rue Lepic . . . Oh, not that I expected it to last . . . a week or two . . . what we need now is some sleep! but Harras wants us to eat first . . . he's got plenty . . . he sends two smiling young ladies to bring us all we need . . . the smiling young ladies come back with platters of sandwiches . . . heaping! . . . and no black bread! . . . white bread and butter! . . . the works! . . . I see them . . . sandwiches . . . sandwiches . . . and then nothing . . .

Talk about sleep, did they wake us up! . . . "attention! . . . attention!
achtung!"
. . . all the loudspeakers in every cellar, office, corridor . . . enough to smash your eardrums and the whole tunnel . . . attention to what? . . . Le Vig had dropped off in his chair . . . our "security" hadn't lasted very long! . . . nor their comfort! . . .

"Sounds bad, Ferd!"

From up top, from die surface we could hear
"whee-whee"
. . . wailing sirens . . . and oh yes, the precise rat-tat-tat of small arms fire . . . they must be shooting . . . at what? . . .

"Le Vig! . . . Where's Lili? . . . you seen her?"

She'd been in the other easy chair . . . 

"She went out with Bébert!"

Christ, he'd let her go!

"And you didn't stop her?"

"What about you?" 

Right . . . I should have been on my guard, tired or not . . . Lili's mania for going out at any cost, forbidden or not, she didn't give a damn . . . the wayward lass . . . she'd done it in Sartrouville, taken Bébert out for a walk by the Seine at eleven o'clock at night . . . the Germans were across the river on reconnaissance . . . naturally, her and her flashlight . . . they'd fired . . .
zing! zing!
we were leaving next day with the ambulance and the infants and the fire pump and the town records . . . seven trucks . . . Sartrouville . . . Saint-Jean-d'Angély . . . that incident of the Germans firing from the opposite bank . . . had given her a big kick . . . I'd given her a piece of my mind . . . to hell with my mind! . . . here now I'm sure she went out just because it was forbidden . . . and with Bébert . . . I grab my canes . . . Le Vig follows me . . . a staircase . . . the corridor . . . we climb . . . the tunnel . . . ah, just as I thought! isn't this lovely! all hell burst loose! the air full of sirens! wheeee! an air raid? . . . I don't hear any bombs . . . but xing! and
rat-tat-tat!
street fight? maybe it's parachutists, real ones, not downs like us . . . sounds like rifles . . . right near . . . I start yelling . . .

"Lili! . . . Lili! . . ."

There she is!"

Ah, she's alive!

"You hurt?"

"Of course not . . . but Bébert won't come out!"

I yell some more:

"Won't come out of where?"

There! There! that hole!"

I hobble to the place . . . hell, Lili has her "torch"! blazing! . . . practically a searchlight! it lights up the whole park . . . people come running, at least ten . . . they look in the hole, between the bricks, under the brambles . . . ten
"landsturms"
with beards . . . Lili ignores them . . . she calls Bébert . . . he must be in that hollow . . . under the brambles . . . Harras! . . . here he comes . . . lucidly! . . . high good humor . . . and in a different bathrobe, orange and violet . . . he collects them! the truck he's brought back from Lisbon . . . he could open a store! anyway we hand him a good laugh! . . . he points to the searchlight beams in the clouds, racing back and forth! crossing out the sky! full-scale alert! Lili and the
Volkssturm
started the whole thing! how deliriously comical! . . . how French! . . .

"Ah, dear Madame! ah, my dear Céline! . . . Madame with her little lamp has alerted all the
flach
in Berlin! . . . ho-ho! . . . the ack-ack guns . . . they're going, to fire! you'll see! . . . ho-ho! . . . ho-ho!"

I join in the laugh . . . why not?

"The
Volkssturm
in the park mistook Madame for a parachutist! did you hear them? they fired into the bushes! two of them are wounded! ho-ho!
ach!
perfect idiots our militiamen! . . . scared stiff of Madame . . . and the cat! . . . they alerted the
flach
. . ."

God's truth . . . up in the clouds at least a hundred search light beams . . . north . . . south . . . east . . . looking for planes . . .

"Our
flach
is idiotic too . . . as dumb as the Volkssturm! . . . why don't they light up the holes? . . . over here! . . . over there! . . . Bébert isn't in the sky! . . . is he, my dear colleague? . . . he's under those bricks . . . I'll give the
flach
a ring . . . they're not far. . . Potsdam . . . they can do it . . . they've got a tower! . . . and a searchlight . . . for patrols . . . you know the place? . . . Sans Souci? ° . . ."

"Telefon, Otto! . . . telefon!"

Otto's the officer from before . . . I see he's got a big coil on his shoulder . . . he comes out . . . he unwinds . . . Harras takes the receiver . . .

"Hier! . . . Hier Harras!"

Harras talks . . . it must be rich . . . and he's talking about us . . . to somebody in the
flach
. . . too funny! . . .  
ach!
. . .
ach!
ho-ho! . . . the SS officer takes away the phone and the wire . . . right away the beams come down . . . from the clouds . . . on top of us . . . they slant down . . . first one . . . then three . . . then the whole lot . . . we can see fine . . . better than broad daylight . . . even through the bushes . . . a white light . . . even the soldiers are white and the piles of bricks, and Harras . . . in his bathrobe he looks like an enormous snowman, dazzling white . . . I ask him:

"Are they going to fire on us now?" 

"Not yet! Not yet!"

Hilarious! . . .

Bébert intrigues him . . . where can he be? . . . damn feline! hell, there he is, right there! behind a tree . . . pleased as Punch . . . Lili had him on the leash . . . one jump . . . gone . . . another jump through the brambles . . . he looks at us . . . he's got something . . . a rat! . . . the rat was still warm . . . he'd caught him by the neck . . . Harras looks at the rat, turns it over. . .

"This one didn't die of plague!"

He's got an idea:

"Suppose we decorate Bébert?" 

With Bébert his toilette comes first! . . . he leaves us the rat . . . he starts with the tip of his tail. . . lick lick! one paw . . . then the other . . .

Dumb
Volkssturm
alerting the whole
flach
. . . maybe, but Lili's to blame too with her "torch" . . . Now Bébert's putting on an act with his meticulous toilette . . . his nose, his ear . . . under the
flach
searchlights zeroed in on him and his rat. . .

"He's going to pass it over his ear . . ."

One of the beavers announces . . .

"If he does, it's going to rain!"

That's the question! . . . this is important! the
Volkssturms
all agree . . . he finally does! . . . he does it again! . . . he even bends it! once! . . . twice! . . . shadow of a doubt! he's done it!

"
Leutnant Otto! telefon!"

Otto comes back with the coil . . . Harras is all a-bubble . . . he notifies them over there at the
flach
that it's going to rain, that Bébert has bent his ear, that we've had enough of their searchlights, they should put them out . . . they comply . . . only the little "torch" . . . we go back down to our caverns . . . our sandwiches and easy chairs . . . a big thick bathrobe ready for each one of us . . . same super-Turkish as Harras . . . same as him red and yellow with flowers . . . we take off our duffel coats . . . whew! just time for a sandwich or two . . . we could do with some sleep . . . even Bébert . . .

Our papers were there, I'd forgotten, on each armchair, signed and stamped . . .