Страница 90 из 127
Stolle stuck out his chin and thrust his fist forward. The pose made him look like Mussolini. "Heinz Buckliger is a good man. Don't get me wrong," he said. "A good man, yes. But a little too trusting."
Whatever he said next, the thundering SS musicians drowned it out. Instead of getting angry about that, he laughed. He even sang a few bars of the march they were playing. People laughed and clapped their hands. Stolle gri
The band moved a little farther away from the podium. The Gauleiter moved a little closer to the microphone. "If those noisy SS bastards will just go home, I'll get on with my speech," he said.
A man in the crowd shouted, "SS go home!" He shouted it again. Then three or four more people took up the call. Before long, everybody who'd come to Adolf Hitler Platz to hear Rolf Stolle was yelling, "SS go home!" The cry echoed from the long front wall of the Fuhrer 's palace. Could Heinz Buckliger hear it in there? If he could, what did he think?
Heinrich wondered, but not for long. He was caught up in the thrill of shouting, "SS go home!" He never would have had the nerve to be first to yell such a thing. In the middle of thousands of others, his voice was only one, indistinguishable from the rest.They'll have a hell of a time arresting all of us, he thought, and yelled louder than ever. "SS go home! SS go home!SS go home! "
The chant swelled and swelled. Looking at the excited faces and sparkling eyes of the men and women all around him, Heinrich realized he wasn't the only one who'd wanted to say that for years. How many Germans did? How many would, if they got the chance? He smelled the acrid sweat of fear, but people kept shouting.
Rolf Stolle leaned toward the microphone again. "SS go home!" he called, leading the chorus. "SS go home!"
Heinrich watched the band. Would the musicians deign to take any notice of the people clamoring for them to leave? If they did, wasn't that a sign of weakness? If they didn't, how long before hotheads started throwing rocks and bottles and whatever else they could get their hands on at them? And what would the SS men do then? And what would the crowd-the mob?-do in reply?
Maybe those same questions were going through the band leader's head. Maybe he didn't like the answers that occurred to him, either. As if continuing a regular performance-which this was anything but-he led the musicians to the edge of the enormous square. They kept on playing, but they no longer interfered with Rolf Stolle's speech.
As the crowd roared in triumph, Stolle shouted, "Do you see,Volk of the Reich? Do you? Without you, they're nothing. And they aren't with you, are they?"
"No!" That was a great, pain-filled howl. Again, Heinrich yelled as loud as anyone. Had schnapps ever left him this giddy? He didn't think so.
"I was going to talk for a while longer, friends, but you just made my speech for me," the Gauleiter of Berlin boomed. The crowd cheered. Rolf Stolle went on, "And do you know what else? By this time tomorrow, the whole Reich will know what you've done!"
Ecstatic cheers drowned out the now-distant SS band. Heinrich joined them, but hesitantly. He thought Stolle was likely right. He wasn't so sure that delighted him. If this footage showed up on Horst Witzleben's newscast, would gimlet-eyed SS technicians pore over it, trying to identify every single person-every single subversive person-in the crowd? Could they identifyhim?
Most of the time, things like that would have left him scared to death. Today, he felt too much exultation, too much exaltation, to care very much. Germans-Germans!-had just told the SS (even if it was only a marching band) where to head in. He'd joined them. The SS (even if it was only a marching band) had retreated. And nobody had got shot.
If that all wasn't a reason to make a man feel three meters tall, Heinrich couldn't imagine what would be.
Something was going on. Lise Gimpel could tell as much by the way Heinrich acted when he came home from work. He had almost a mad scientist's gleam in his eye, an air of excitement, he didn't even try to hide. He wouldn't tell her what it was all about, though. That made her want to smack him.
The most he would say was, "We'll watch Horst after supper." Since he said that about three nights a week, it didn't give Lise much of a clue about why he wanted to see the evening news.
Di
"Our opening story," the newsreader said, "is the collision of two airliners on the runway at Gander, Newfoundland." A map flashed on the screen to show where Gander was. "More than 250 people are confirmed as fatalities. Only seventeen are known to have survived, many of them with severe burns." The televisor showed smoking wreckage, and then one of those survivors coming out of an ambulance on a stretcher.
Lise glanced over at Heinrich. Whatever he'd been waiting for, that wasn't it. She knew a certain amount of relief. She would have worried if he'd got that excited about a plane crash.
Then the picture shifted to Adolf Hitler Platz. Heinrich stiffened. This was it, all right. But why? There was Rolf Stolle, making one of his usual rabble-rousing speeches. And the rabble were indeed roused, as their cheers and shouts showed. But some oom-pah music kept coming close to drowning out the Gauleiter of Berlin. What was that all about?
Then Horst Witzleben said, "Despite attempted interference from an SS marching band,Gauleiter Rolf
Stolle delivered another strong statement supporting the Fuhrer 's reform program this afternoon in central Berlin. His large audience received him favorably, and showed their displeasure at the band's not at all coincidental presence in the square."
His voice cut off. Lise heard people shouting. For a moment, it was just rising and falling noise. Then she made out words: "SS go home! SS go home!"
Ice and fire rivered through her, both together. They'd saidthat? Nothing had happened to them? And now the authorities were showing the pictures on the evening news?
Heinrich grabbed her hand. His voice quivering with excitement, he said, "I wasthere, out in the platz. I was listening to Stolle. And I was shouting for the SS to leave along with everybody else. And theydid!"
"You?" Lise said in amazement. Heinrich nodded. "Was that safe?" she asked.
"I don't know. I think so. I hope so," he answered. "So many people were there, I don't see how they can grab everybody." But he hesitated a little before he said that. Was he trying to convince her or himself or both of them?
"Well, it's done. I hope it turns out all right," she said, and then, "I didn't see you anywhere on the tape."
"Good. I didn't, either," Heinrich said. He'd been watching for himself, then, which meant he was more worried than he let on. Lise sent him a look half affectionate, half exasperated. Hewould try to play down whatever bothered him, because he didn't want her to worry. Once in a great while, that worked. The rest of the time, it only made her worry more.
An advertisement for a breakfast cereal tried to show that eating the stuff would make you rich, athletic, and beautiful. Lise remained unconvinced. "It tastes like library paste," she said.