Rigadoon (7 page)

"Papier!"

He wants to see our papers again . . . here you are! . . . he asks us where we're bound for . . .

"Wo wollen sie?"

"Warnemünde!"

Good! . . . All right with him! . . . but we'll have to wait . . . he has to notify
Warnemünde
. . . "How many days?"

"One day!"

"
Gut!
fine! . . . tomorrow morning! . . .
Stadthaus!
Town hall!"

He wants to see us again . . . okay, we'll report to his town hall! . . . he leaves us . . . he must have reserved a room for us . . . I see that this hotel is no crumbling ruin like the Zenith in Berlin . . . but nobody around . . . just an old woman at the cash desk, in a wig, I think . . . she has us fill out our blanks . . . neither friendly nor hostile . . . "good night!" . . . colleague Haupt leaves us . . . some words don't mean a thing: "good night!" . . . in solitary, the guard that locks you up . . . double lock . . . also treats you to his good night! . . .
god nat!
. . . the lady from the desk takes us up to the second floor . . . our room . . . two very hard beds and a very thin blanket . . . well, we can't complain . . . the sergeant had wanted to put us to work on the train . . . unloading . . . this Haupt doesn't seem very affable, but he's not too vicious, not the dyed-in-the-wool
anti-franzose
type . . . we'll be seeing him again tomorrow, ten o'clock . . . I say to Lili: "We'd better stay just as we are . . ." keep our clothes on, I mean . . . the sirens are still at it . . . far away . . . but they can come closer any minute! . . . we know all about sirens . . . I'm half asleep . . . I talk about Bébert . . . and Le Vig . . . wonder what they're doing right now . . . Lili answers . . . something vague . . . I've got to keep mumbling . . . no intention of sleeping! . . . we've got to be ready in case of an alert! . . . especially here, in a place we don't know . . . wonder if Rostock is badly beat up? . . . we'll see tomorrow . . .

Knock knock!

On the door . . . somebody there . . . very softly . . . good I kept my clothes on . . . I open just a crack . . .

"Forgive me, my dear colleague! . . . at this time of night! . . . but I've got to see you, warn you! I may not be here tomorrow . . . you never can tell . . ."

This dear colleague is whispering . . . he has an accent . . . but not a Kraut accent. . . where's he from? I'll ask him . . .

"Wait, I've got a candle!"

That's a fact . . . actually I've got several . . . and matches . . . I strike one . . . there we are! I invite the stranger to come in . . .

"So sorry! . . . we were lying down, that's all . . . we were expecting an alert . . ."

He tells me . . .

'There've been only two alerts since I've been here . . ."

He'd been there for six months . . .

"A lot of bombs?"

"No! . . . three raids! four loads of bombs! . . . but they'll be back! . . . I haven't introduced myself! . . . do forgive me . . . Proseïdon . . . Greek . . . professor at the Montpellier Medical School! . . . Proseïdon!"

"Delighted, my dear colleague!"

"My wife is a doctor too! . . . from Montpellier . . . I don't know where she is right now . . . probably trying to join me . . . we escaped from Russia . . . me through Poland . . . she across the Rumanian border . . ."

He tells us their story . . . he and his wife had gone to Soviet Russia . . . political conviction . . . but they didn't get along with the Russians . . . not for a single day! they lived and worked with them! . . . ten years! . . . but never joined the Party! . . . they refused . . . only in the hospitals . . .

"I'm a pathologist, you see, my wife helped me . . . laboratory work . . . they assigned me to leprosy . . . I've been in all the republics . . . a good deal of leprosy in Mongolia . . . five and a half years in Outer Mongolia . . . one year on plague in Arabidjan . . . they wanted us to join the party . . . they don't all join the party . . . eight percent . . . eight percent . . . no more . . . we had to get out . . . the future is theirs . . . all Europe . . . all Asia . . . did you realize? . . ."

I listen to him . . . he talks in an undertone . . . he doesn't move . . . standing up . . .

I ask him:

"Well? What about here?"

"Here they're crazy! As crazy as the Russians, but the Russians have more power, tremendous . . . they can do what they please . . . here their myth is race, soil, blood—small-family stuff . . . village snobbery . . . the Russians don't need it . . . they want everything and they'll take everything! . . . unless . . ."

A slight reservation . . .

". . . unless Hitler holds out for a year . . . two years! . . . but I don't think so . . . he's losing too many men!"

"So where does that leave us?"

"Exactly! . . . I wanted to warn you . . . you don't mind?"

"Only too grateful, colleague!"

"Just so you know where you are . . ."

Looks like he knows the score . . . this stop in the fields? . . . in the middle of the night? . . .

"He didn't tell you? it's the Nietzschean technique . . . Oberarzt Haupt is a Nietzschean . . . natural selection! . . . survival of the fittest! the cold, the snow, stark naked, it invigorates them, especially the wounded! . . . the weak die and get buried . . . Oberarzt Haupt's technique . . . they clear the cars, they put the bodies out in the field . . . and leave them there . . . two days . . . three days . . . in the cold, in the snow, stark naked . . . the ones that are able to get up are invigorated . . . you can see them, even on one leg . . . they start for Rostock . . . then they sort them out . . . some go to the hospital for surgery . . . the rest are put to work . . . digging pits for the dead: the ones that don't move after two three days . . ."

Proseïdon had been the doctor . . . assigned to the field, the mass graves . . .

"Maybe they'll take you on?"

Now I understood that enormous work force, why I'd seen all those people in rags around the cars . . . not so dumb, his method . . . but what interested me was Denmark! . . . not Nietzschean selection . . . I had an aim! . . . not listening to him talk about Haupt and his crazy ideas . . . especially if he'd let us go look at the sea . . .

"Yes! . . . but only once! . . . for twelve hours . . . only twelve hours! . . . that's the most he can do! Warnemünde isn't in his jurisdiction . . . Warnemünde is the Admiralty . . . the beach, the defenses, the coast . . ."

Then he tells me that all they wanted in Berlin was to get people out of their hospitals . . . send them anywhere! . . . Hanover . . . Wiesbaden . . . Rostock . . . Lübeck . . . the only trouble, it was the same all over . . . not a bed! . . . they couldn't take anybody . . . and a crazy detail: the lepers in Berlin . . . the Red Cross Commission had rounded up twelve . . . a dozen lepers wandering around the ruins . . . seemed to be refugees from the East . . . they'd sent them to Rostock . . . to Proseïdon, the specialist . . . a dozen ampules of
chaulmo-gras
. . . and then nothing . . . the hospital here had turned them away! . . . no solution but to mix them in with the others, the work crew in the field . . . unloading the cars, digging graves . . . it went off all right . . . not another word about lepers or leprosy . . . Oberarzt Haupt didn't ask any questions . . . as long as the cars were empty and the dead six feet under! . . . his passion was Nietzsche . . . I could expect him to question me . . . he'd judge me according to Nietzsche . . . speaking of Nietzsche, 
Proseïdon
, usually so cautious, had put his foot in it . . . given him his frank opinion, that Nietzsche was a romantic smart aleck, full of quibbles and hot air . . . since then they hadn't exchanged a word . . . hardly . . .

"I beg your pardon, madame! . . . I talk so much! . . . so indiscreet! . . . I could talk all night! . . . out there, you know, I didn't talk to a soul for years . . . ten years! . . . neither to my colleagues nor to the patients . . ."

"Think nothing of it . . . we're delighted!"

"You've got to sleep! . . . we still have . . ."

He looks at his watch . . .

"It's three o'clock! . . . I'm going! . . . once again . . . your pardon! . . ."

This colleague is mighty polite . . . and certainly very frugal . . . he lives on black bread, never any butter . . . I think about him . . . nothing else to do, lying there with my clothes on . . . genuine Greek profile! . . . of course there are other kinds of beauty, but not many are so perfect . . . so definitive . . . I think of myself, my big head . . . I make myself laugh . . .

"What's the matter?"

"I'm thinking about my head!"

"You'd better get some sleep instead!"

Sleep, that's easily said! . . . I don't lose consciousness . . . and besides, that wailing in the east . . . faint . . . but even so . . . we'll see the dawn through the little window . . . what time is it anyway? . . . the
torch
. . . my watch . . . first four o'clock . . . then five . . . half asleep . . . no it's six . . . seven o'clock, rise and shine! . . . got to find some water to wash with and maybe some kind of coffee . . . Proseïdon's at the door . . . munching his chunk of black bread, still the same one, it looks like . . . we tell each other good morning . . . he asks me how I've slept . . . "splendidly, dear colleague!" . . . he tells me there are no more maids or waiters . . . or cooks . . . all cleared out a month ago . . . every last one, nobody knows where! . . . naturally there's no more coffee! . . . or coffee substitute . . . he lives on black bread . . . gets it with his coupons . . . that's all he eats . . . one more thing, he knows where to get coupons! . . . do I want some? . . . definitely! . . . but right away he gets us what we need! a loaf of army bread and a pitcher of water . . . but since I'm going to see the Oberarzt I'd like a bit of hot water to wash with . . . that coat of sludge from the platform won't come off in cold water . . . my colleague says he'll get us some hot water! at the hospital . . . we should wait . . . we wait! . . . he isn't gone long . . . here's the hot water . . . we wash off the grime . . . now we'll go see . . . it's right next door . . . I see plenty! . . . nothing much to pretty up for! sure thing! the minute we hit the stairs! . . . maybe Oberarzt Haupt was a gold-medal Nietzschean, but that didn't clean the rooms! . . . or the corridors! . . . dressings all over the place . . . hadn't been swept for months . . . adhesive tape, bandages, diarrhea . . . of course he needed help! but how could he operate in such a place? . . . the Greek had told me: he eliminates a lot of them! . . . I wondered how . . . but where was he? his office? I look around . . . ah, an old woman, a patient! . . . she's coming down, step by step . . . clutching the banister . . . "upstairs" . . . she says . . . "upstairs" . . . I climb . . . I see a door . . . no name, but a red cross . . . is this it? . . . I knock . . . somebody answers . . . but he doesn't open . . .

"What is it?"

His voice, I think . . .

"A pass for Warnemünde!"

Yes, it's him, the Oberarzt . . .

"Go ahead! You don't need a pass . . . they know!"

But what about a ticket? . . . no need of a ticket, it's free! . . . we'd pay later! . . . there's no station either . . . just the roadbed! . . . we'd take the fish train . . . there and back . . . permission to stay in Warnemünde the time it took them to load . . . two hours at the most! . . . no time for excursions! well, we'd wanted to see the Baltic!

"
Warten sie!
"

He talks to me through the door . . .

"Go and get your things! . . . you won't be going back to the hotel! . . . no more hotel! . . .
verboten!
no more hotel! . . . the factories are closed too! . . . Heinkel!° . . . orders from Berlin! . . . you'll return direct from Warnemünde to Berlin! . . . Proseïdon knows, he'll go with you, his patients too, Berlin direct! . . . he'll wait for you . . . understand?"

"Yes! Yes!"

Not another word . . . I wasn't going to argue . . . this weirdie Haupt wasn't in love with us to begin with . . . the hotel! . . . ah, here we are! . . . I find the sign . . . hadn't noticed it when we arrived . . . "Phoenix Hotel" . . . seems we don't have to pay . . . that's how it is in all the big crackups: Nightmare, Gratis . . . Vichy, Berlin, Sigmaringen . . . where'll it be tomorrow? London? . . . Prague? . . . Moscow? . . . you'll see . . . go take a look . . . but right here and now, what are they worried about? . . . an English landing? . . . the Russians? . . . we'll ask in Warnemünde . . . quick to our room! bundle up our stuff! . . . Proseïdon is in the corridor . . . it was true, he had his orders . . . I ask him: were they evacuating Rostock? . . . he doesn't know . . . maybe . . . anyway he'd wait till we got back . . . he and his lepers . . . all in the same compartment . . . we'd be together as far as Moorsburg . . . then they'd be changing to another line . . . Stettin! . . . say, I'll be damned! that's where our ladies are! . . . or maybe they'd gone a lot further . . . I'll know if we see Harras, the old clown! . . . Proseïdon thinks they've set up a leper hospital in Stettin . . . he's not sure . . .

"A great future, Proseïdon!"

One thing was sure . . . we had two hours to see the Baltic . . . and come back . . .

"Good-bye! . . . good-bye!"

Two soldiers seem to be waiting for us at the hotel door . . . to arrest us? . . . we pass them by . . . they tail us . . . about ten . . . fifteen paces back . . . we follow the narrow-gauge tracks . . . the two soldiers are still there . . . still the same distance . . . some other people take the same path . . . funny, here in Rostock, not a soul in the streets . . . then all of a sudden, a crowd! civilians, soldiers . . . what language are they speaking? . . . I ask one of them . . . Danish and Hungarian! . . .