Chapter 9: Starry Night
Darkness proved to be as useless as daylight—in terms of making a stealthy getaway. During the day, at least the lorry would have had a slight chance of blending into the Italian hillside. At night, however, with a piercing headlight cutting through black skies, it was doubtful that they could go unnoticed.
The engine groaned and rumbled over the mountainous terrain, struggling dearly with its weighted burden. The noise shattered the serenity of the night. Certainly anyone within three kilometers would hear them.
A single jeep with Americans had converged on them as they had passed through the outskirts of Florence. Swinging on the back of the jeep was a mounted machine gun, armed by a grim-faced American. They kept their distance in the dark, visible only by their headlights. It was clear that their intentions were to have the lorry pull over, but they didn't dare open fire with such poor visibility.
Ultimately, it was the Germans who lost patience and let loose a brief burst of gunfire. The jeep abruptly fell back to a half-kilometer's distance, and continued following them through the snaking mountain road.
Berlitz was watching the stars that shone from the heavens. Hunger pangs mixed with pain from his injuries to put him in a miserable state of stupor. His drowsiness did not lapse into sleep; the jostling of the truck and the cold, open air kept him awake. From his dark corner of the flatbed, he watched the silhouettes of his companions—Metz, Hilden, and Schmidt, as well as three others under the hauptmann's command.
Their driver, they had learned, was named Hauptmann Siegfried Klauss. Klauss had been commissioned to remain behind with a band of men from the 1st Fallschirm-Panzer, the famous Hermann GoeringDivision. These men had all seen action in Africa, as well as at Lentini during the battle for Sicily. They were the 1st Fallschirmjäger's equal, except they mastered in panzer warfare rather than aerial and infantry combat.
Klauss and his men had been formed into a special-operations division for missions that would require stealth and precision. Like Metz's soldiers, the men under Klauss saw no future for themselves after the war. They lived every day as if it was their last.
" I don't like this," Schmidt said, his voice hoarse over the rumble of the engine. " The Amis might be pushing us into a trap."
Seated across from him, Hilden stifled a yawn and said, " I don't see how that's possible. We're too far beyond their front to be seeing any resistance here."
" Then why are they still following us?" Schmidt demanded.
" Because of him," Hilden answered, snapping his thumb at the trembling Italian man laying between their feet.
Vittorio rolled over and looked at them wildly. " The war is over! Risking our lives at this point is foolish. I have a family to care for."
Schmidt glared at him. " Tell us why you are so special to our friends."
" That information is not for you to know," Granzoli replied.
Schmidt stared at him, his gaze piercing even in darkness. Slowly, the doctor removed his knife and began to wipe the blood from it on his shirt. The moonlight glimmered on the blade.
" See this?" Schmidt asked. " Today I killed a man with this. I slit open his neck, and then strangled one of his companions. And I felt nothing. I still feel nothing. What I'm saying, Herr Granzoli, is that…this war has changed me. I used to be a man who gave life, not one who stole it away. If the enemy is coming after us, I had damn better know why. Do you understand me?"
Granzoli cringed. " I'm under orders not to speak of my work. Orders from your own Fuehrer."
" How did the enemyknow how to find you?" Metz demanded.
" I-I don't know," Granzoli stammered. " Since I finished my work a year ago, the Nazis have had very little interest in me. The war is coming to a close; I saw no reason to flee from the Americans."
" Disgraceful lies," Hilden snarled.
" Where did you work?" Schmidt inquired.
Granzoli's voice shook slightly. " Dachau."
Surprise and curiosity overtook Schmidt's voice. " The concentration camp?"
" Ja," the Italian confirmed. " I performed some important biological studies there."
Although his face was hidden in shadows, Metz was studying the man closely. Very slowly, the Leutnant asked, " What kind of experiments, Herr Granzoli?"
" I worked for Dr. Rascher and Dr. Mengele, under Herr Himmler," Granzoli's voice held the faintest hint of pride. " That's all you need to know."
" This is absurd!" Hilden protested. " Dachau is a camp for political re-education, not biological experiments. They send gypsies there, and Jews, and corrupt vermin who don't understand the order of the Reich. Dachau is no science laboratory. You lie! You continue to lie to us!"
Metz held up his arm. " That's enough, Hilden." He turned his smoldering gaze onto Granzoli. " Listen to me, Vittorio. If you've done what I think you've done, you are without shame and honor. I'd not have you speak of your work in front of my men."
" What-" Hilden began.
" You cannot imagine," Metz interrupted, gazing at Hilden. " In all these years of fighting, you cannot even begin to imagine what horrors this war has brought into our world."
" I still don't-"
Schmidt sat up abruptly. " Why are we slowing down?"
The lorry had decelerated until it slowed to a drag. Finally, the truck stopped moving altogether. The smell of oil and smoke became distinct immediately.
Hauptmann's Klauss's angry voice burst out of the front of the truck. " Scheisse! Fickender bauerlastwagen!"
" What is it?" Metz asked, swinging out of the back.
" I don't know. Something must be wrong with the engine," Klauss answered. He moved to the head of the vehicle and threw back the hood, choking and cursing as a cloud of scorching smoke spilled out.
Hilden leapt from the back and joined them at the front. With only the dismal illumination of a single headlight, he could barely make out any of the engine parts. He asked for a flashlight and found out that Metz's had shattered during their struggle in the piazza. Klauss had none.
" I have my lighter," the hauptmann offered.
" No, it won't matter," Hilden said bitterly. " If one of the bullets hit the radiator or any of the major parts, the fluid might have leaked out. We're out of luck until morning."
" Our front should only be ten kilometers from here. We could walk," one of the soldiers in the rear suggested.
" Nein," Klauss replied. " Friedrich" –he indicated the soldier who had occupied the passenger seat—"was just on the radio with our commander. They've pulled back our lines another thirty kilometers. That's forty kilometers of walking, and in the dark."
Metz spoke dryly. " We've done worse, Herr Hauptmann."
" Either way, we aren't headed back to our lines just yet," Klauss said.
" We have to finish the second part of our assignment."
" Oh? And what is that, exactly?" Metz asked.
Klauss scratched his head. " Didn't your man receive the orders over the radio?"
" Only to locate and evacuate Granzoli," Hilden said. " I had to abandon the radio."
The hauptmann shrugged. " We are to stop at Granzoli's country villa, which is situated on this very road about twenty kilometers from Florence. In fact, by my estimation, we should be nearly there."
" We are close," Granzoli's voice admitted from the lorry's bed. " But what business does the German Army have with my private home?"
" Our orders are to ensure that all of your personal studies and all of your scientific endeavors are collected and relocated to Berlin," Klauss reported. " If that is impossible, we are to destroy everything and burn down the house."
" Destroy everything?" Granzoli repeated, stunned. " Are you completely insane? Throw years of research out the window?"
" Why hasn't all of this been done long before the enemy approached?" Metz demanded.
Shrugging, Klaus replied, " Your guess is as good as mine. We both know that the Reich has lost much of its order and discipline during the years of the war. Vittorio's name must have been buried in the confusion."
" Berlitz is badly in need of a hospital," Schmidt cut in. " Or at least some antibiotics. If infection sets in, he might die from that head wound."
" Vittorio's house is on the path back to our lines," Klauss answered. " It will take us less than half an hour"—he glared at the Italian—" with his cooperation, that is."
Granzoli waved his arms in desperation. " I'll help you get the files back to Berlin. Just promise that there will be no burning, of any sort."
" How far are we from this house?" Metz asked.
Squinting in the darkness, Granzoli took in his surroundings and nodded to himself. " In another two kilometers, we should see the driveway on the side of the road."
Klauss drew himself up. " We have no choice but to go by foot. The moon will give us enough light to see the way."
" I don't know if Berlitz can-" Hilden began.
" Then carry the damn man!" Klauss shouted. " We'll try and radio in for reinforcements in the morning, but until then, we must bite our tongues and keep pushing onwards."
Metz snapped to attention and turned back towards the truck. " You heard him. Out of the truck, all of you. Help Berlitz down."
" Should we try and push the lorry off the road?" someone asked.
" Nein. There's nowhere to hide it," Metz replied.
The soldiers piled out of the vehicle and lined up alongside their hauptmann. Weapons gleaming in the moonlight, faces grim with dirt, they waited for the order to begin moving. Schmidt slung Berlitz's arm around his soldier and helped the soldier lean on his good leg. Berlitz let his head lull, and every now and then, he muttered something indistinguishable.
" Let's go then," Hauptmann Klauss ordered.
The Allied jeep that had been escorting them had disappeared back for the city. Several kilometers away, a large force of Allied soldiers was pouring into Florence. Orders were given, and an assault force was drawn together and loaded onto jeeps. These would set out onto the road at the first light of dawn, in the hope of catching up to the Germans that were now traveling on foot.
All this remained unknown to the soldiers of the Germany Army. Under the guidance of the stars above, they drifted away into the darkness of Italy's hills.
