The Cowards (14 page)

‘Shit,’ said Prema. ‘I’m against going over there.’

‘Me, too. Once we get there, we’re stuck,’ said Perlik.

‘But …’ said Benda.

‘Anyway, all Sabata wants to do is lock us all up in the brewery.’

‘I still think it’d be better if we went over there,’ said Benda.

‘Because you’re scared, maybe?’ said Perlik.

‘Hell no. But what can we do all by ourselves?’

‘We collected all these guns by ourselves, didn’t we?’

‘Okay, but when the SS-men come, then what? How many people do we have anyway?’

‘Enough, but if you’re scared, stay home.’

‘But …’

‘Or else go over to the brewery.’

‘Aw, come on, for Chrissake.’

‘You’re yellow.’

‘I am not.’

‘You are, too.’

‘No, I’m not.’

‘Shut up.’

‘Don’t argue, guys,’ said Prema. ‘The point is whether we ought to go over there or not.’

‘I say we shouldn’t,’ said Perlik.

‘I think it’d be better if we did,’ said Vahar

‘You scared, too?’ said Perlik.

‘The fact is, we’ve got more guns than we know what to do with and it’d be a shame to let ’em go to waste,’ said Vahar.

‘And on account of that you want to go report at the brewery, huh?’

‘Well, and what do you want to do with the guns?’

‘Pass ’em out to other guys.’

‘Yeah, but all the others are over at the brewery.’

‘So what do you say, fellas?’ said Prema.

‘What say we go to the brewery?’ said Jerry.

I looked at them. They were standing around the upturned packing crates like robbers in their den and, aside from Perlik, all of them wanted to go to the brewery. Only Prema was undecided. But he was their leader and he couldn’t act hastily.
I watched him through the glass doors and heard what he said. Then I opened the door and walked in.

‘Hi,’ I said.

‘Hiya. Come on in,’ said Prema.

‘Well, are we going over to the brewery?’ I said.

‘We’re just talking it over.’

‘And?’

‘We can’t make up our minds whether we ought to or not.’

‘Everybody’s going.’

‘Sure,’ said Benda. ‘We’re going, too. Come on.’

‘I’m not going,’ said Perlik.

‘So stay here, then.’

‘I’d rather go over to the communists than sign up with Sabata.’

‘So go on, who’s stopping you?’ said Benda.

‘Don’t be nuts, Perlik,’ said Prema.

‘So I’m the one who’s nuts, am I? And how about the rest of you?’

‘We’ll wait and see how things look over there.’

‘You still don’t know Dr Sabata? You still don’t know what a gutless bastard that guy is?’

‘Aw, come off it.’

‘You think he’ll let you take off with those guns? Why, you might annoy the Germans.’

Perlik was angry and ironic. I knew him. The Germans sent him to a work camp once for being a chronic absentee. He was one of those people who are so brave they never show even a trace of fear. It was dangerous to be connected with a guy like that. But he was the only one. The rest were different.

‘No, listen, fellas,’ said Prema. ‘The question is, can we get anywhere all by ourselves.’

‘That’s right,’ said Jerry.

‘The fact is that the German front’s getting closer and closer and what can we do by ourselves against tanks?’ said Benda.

‘And what are you going to do against tanks together with Dr Sabata?’ said Perlik.

Benda ignored him.

‘The fact is, we’ve got twice as many guns as we can use.
Also, that there’ll be guys over at the brewery who know how to use them.’

‘If Dr Sabata’ll let them use them, that is.’

‘What the hell, you want us to let the guns just lie around here?’

‘And you’re really dumb enough to think Sabata’ll let anybody shoot ’em?’

‘What’ve you got against Sabata, anyway? What makes you so sure he’s so yellow?’ said Vahar.

‘What makes you think he isn’t?’

‘All I know is that he got my dad out of a concentration camp,’ said Vahar.

‘That’s right, he did,’ said Benda.

‘But
how
?’ said Perlik.

‘The fact is, he did it,’ said Benda.

‘Sure. By spending a lot of time drinking with the Gestapo down at headquarters.’

‘Well, he got him out, didn’t he? And that wasn’t the only case.’

‘All right now. Let’s decide what we’re going to do,’ said Prema.

‘I’m for going over to the brewery,’ said Benda.

‘Me, too,’ said Vahar.

‘Me, too,’ said Jerry.

‘All right,’ said Prema and looked at the others. Vasek, Vostal and Prochazka were silent.

‘How about it, you guys?’

‘Oh, well, okay, let’s go then,’ said Vostal.

‘What about you?’ Prema said to Prochazka.

‘Sure, I guess so,’ Prochazka said.

‘I’d rather not,’ said Kocandrle.

‘What about you?’ Prema said to me. I was kind of surprised he was already counting me in. Also, I knew Perlik was right. But I wanted to go to the brewery anyway. I wanted to see the circus over there. The washing away of Protectorate sins. And besides, maybe Perlik was wrong after all. There’d be a lot of bloodthirsty guys over at the brewery, and once things got started not even Dr Sabata could hold them back. I knew a lot
of them personally. They didn’t belong to any organization but they were crazy to have an uprising. Even at the brewery those pleasures would be provided for. And I wanted to see the others, too. I didn’t want to miss Mr Mozol. Or Mr Moutelik either. I looked at Prema.

‘I suppose we’d better go over to the brewery,’ I said. ‘If we don’t like it, we can always clear out.’

‘That’s right,’ said Benda.

‘You guys are as dumb as they come,’ said Perlik.

‘Shut up. The majority’s for the brewery,’ said Benda.

‘Because you’re dumb.’

‘Quit arguing,’ said Prema. ‘Let’s go.’

‘Right,’ said Benda, and they all got up.

‘Morons,’ said Perlik.

Benda turned sharply on him. ‘Look, if you don’t like it you don’t have to come along!’

‘Oh, shut up,’ said Perlik and got up too. I waited until they’d filed out of the warehouse and then went over to Prema.

‘Oh, I almost forgot. Come on,’ said Prema. We went out.

In front of the warehouse stood a wagon whose load was covered up with a tarpaulin. The boys stood around it, silent, huddled in a circle in the rain, holding or shouldering their submachine guns and rifles. Vahar held the flag furled around its staff. Prema flipped back the tarpaulin and pulled a polished submachine gun out by its barrel.

‘You know how to work this?’ he said to me.

‘No.’

‘Well, look. This is how you remove the safety. Here’s where you load it and then this snaps down.’ Prema shoved the magazine into the barrel. The bullet heads shone through the holes. ‘Try it.’ said Prema.

I took out the magazine and then I put it in again. It worked fine.

‘And when you shoot, press the butt up against your shoulder.’

‘Yeah.’

Prema turned back to the wagon and pulled four clips of ammunition out from under the tarpaulin.

‘Put these in your pocket.’

‘Thanks.’

I stick the clips in my coat pocket. They just fit.

‘Let’s go,’ said Jerry.

‘Let’s go,’ said Prema.

Jerry grabbed the wagon shaft and Prochazka and Kocandrle pushed from behind. I stood on one side and helped them push. Vahar unfurled the flag and we started off. The wheels of the little wagon squeaked. We went slowly over the foot bridge, past the Czech Brethren Church and past the Social Democrat Workers Sports Club towards the brewery. I knew how we must look. Pretty fine. We all walked along without saying a word. We acted very casual. People in hiking knickers with tricolours on their berets stared at us. You could tell they admired us. It was great.

We got to the bridge. I looked up at Irena’s window and hoped she was watching, but she wasn’t. Naturally. She should see me now. But no such luck. I could already imagine fighting the Germans off in the woods and Irena hiding down in the cellar or somewhere. The whole thing lost all its charm if Irena couldn’t see me. Why in hell was I letting myself in for this? A bunch of people were heading along the path from the bridge towards the brewery. Like going to the cemetery on All Saints’ Day. A big Czechoslovak flag was flying from the brewery tower. I noticed that some of the guys in the crowd had Czechoslovak Army service rifles over their shoulders. And some were wearing old army uniforms and puttees. They looked quaint. I’d already forgotten there was such a thing as puttees any more. Nobody wore them in this war. Silently we pushed our wagon slowly along with the crowd. People looked at us. You could tell some of them admired us, too. Or else they were just scared. There were a lot of them who didn’t enjoy looking at a real honest-to-goodness gun. Probably deep down they’d hoped everything would blow over nice and quiet. But nevertheless they were going to the brewery. They were all patriots. And heroes. Mr Lobel was ahead of us. He used to be our landlord; he was Jewish but his wife was Aryan so he hadn’t been sent to a concentration camp. He was carrying a
shotgun over his shoulder. He’d always been a big hunter. I kind of expected to see his hunting dog, Bonza, trotting alongside. Bonza would have been glad to come along, I knew. We steered the wagon through the gate. Mr Moutelik, wearing knickers and a ski cap, appeared with Berty beside him, his Leica on his chest. He beamed at me.

‘Hi, Danny,’ Berty said.

‘Hi. Going to take some pictures?’ I said.

‘You bet.’

Better do it fast, I thought to myself. As we came through the gate, I noticed Mr Mozol with a policeman’s sabre standing with a bunch of people from the Messerschmidt factory. They even stuck together here. They had it in their blood, the Messerschmidt people. Jerks! They stood in a bunch, chatting. Just three days ago, Mr Mozol was crawling around, licking Uippelt’s boots. Everybody knew that. And now he was scared again. He was always scared of something. And he always had good reason to be scared. He stood there, pale and silly looking and scared. We turned towards the main building. A long queue stood on the steps leading to the open doors. They were waiting to sign up. An army first has to be enlisted. I saw Mr Stybl the barber, Dr Bohadlo, Mr Frinta the lawyer, the clerk from our bank, Mr Jungwirth from the loan association, and others. They stood there waiting their turn. Mr Jungwirth was eating a sandwich. We stopped the wagon. Prema turned.

‘Wait here, fellows. I’m going to find Sabata.’

‘Okay,’ said Benda.

Prema went up the stairs and you could see how he was telling the guys at the door to let him through. I saw one guy at the door turn on him angrily, take one look at Prema’s gun and grenades, then slip aside fast. Sure. We didn’t have to waste our time like all the rest of those people lined up there. Their eyes were full of envy because we were somebody, we had weapons. I held my gun by the muzzle and set it on the ground. The steel felt cool and good.

‘Danny,’ I heard from behind me. There stood Berty with his Leica up to his eye.

‘Stand over there and I’ll take your picture.’

‘Thanks,’ I said. I didn’t have any objection. I thought about Irena and how I’d show her my picture. I flashed my Gable smile and picked up my submachine gun so you couldn’t miss it. Berty squinted at me through the finder and took two steps backward. I hoped Zdenek wasn’t going to get a gun like mine. Or at least that nobody’d take Zdenek’s picture with it. The camera clicked.

‘Thanks. When can I get one, Berty?’ I said.

‘I’ll develop it tonight.’

‘Can you make a few extras?’

‘Sure. How many copies can I make up for you?’ said Berty. He’d learned those expressions from his father. Berty was a businessman. His father was, too. They were both businessmen and they owned an apartment house. Berty’s hobby was photography. He was always awfully obliging about taking pictures, but he never did anything for nothing. He was always taking pictures, at high school, at the A. C. Kostelec Athletic Club, at little-theatre performances, and afterwards he sold each snapshot at cost, plus a small fee. I still remembered how in high school he used to have a list of how much people owed him and he always kept after us about paying up. When it came to getting paid he didn’t have any friends. Only customers.

‘Oh, about six,’ I said, because I wanted to have plenty of copies. And I knew Mother would send one to Grandmother and another to Prague and another to my uncle in America, as soon as she could again.

‘Can you save the negative, too?’ I added as an afterthought.

‘Certainly,’ said Berty.

‘Well, thanks.’

‘You’re quite welcome.’ Berty smiled broadly and moved on along the line with his camera all wound and ready for action again. He was pleased I’d let him take my picture. And after the revolution, he’d display the pictures in their show window with stupid captions.
‘Valiantly into the Fray,’
he’d write under my picture. But that’d be fine with me. That kind of nonsense didn’t bother Irena the way it did me. I was the only one sensitive about things like that. And the group in the band, too, of course. It’d be a big laugh. I could just see the people crowding
around Moutelik’s show window and bragging about the pictures. And I’d be there, too. I remembered Mr Machacek. Of course. Berty would contribute the photographic illustrations.
‘Photographs graciously donated by Mr Albert Moutelik, Jr’
it would say somewhere at the back of the book. And there would be one coloured reproduction of an oil painting by Mr Leitner,
‘May 6th in Kostelec.’
I was already looking forward to that book. My picture would be in there, too. Mr Machacek would put it in as a favour to Father. So I’d be immortalized. Immortalized for all eternity in Kostelec. I glanced around at the crowd. More people kept coming in through the gate and the line moved slowly. Jirka Vit came out of the icehouse, carrying two rifles over each shoulder. Behind him came Mr Weiss in a major’s uniform and behind him a bunch of fellows in Czech Army uniforms. One of them went up the steps of the main building and put up a sign next to the door. On it was written in black paint: