Chapter 10: The Darkness Within
The Granzoli villa was a sprawling expanse of flowers and marble. Large shrubs aligned the long entrance drive in a Sicilian fashion. The arches of the home itself were lit by hanging lanterns which cast shadows across the central courtyard. A gurgling fountain rose in the darkness of this cobblestone plaza. The smell of wildflowers and roses mingled in the cool air of the night. In the distance, the black figures of the hills towered under the moonlight.
" You do quite well for a man of your profession," Hauptmann Klauss remarked, as the soldiers trudged up the final portion of the paved road.
Granzoli nodded. " The estate has been in my family for three generations. My grandfather had it built many years ago."
They passed through an arched gateway and glanced about the courtyard. Klauss inquired if anyone else was around, to which Granzoli replied that all of the groundskeepers should have left in the evening.
" Why would you be living in a miserable hovel in Florence when you have all this?" Hilden demanded. " Who were you trying to hide from?"
Granzoli said nothing, and the question was left hanging as they entered the building. The Italian scientist hurried to turn on some of the lamps, casting a bright light on the richly furnished interior.
" Where do you keep your files?" Klauss demanded.
Pointing towards the curved marble stairs, Granzoli said, " Upstairs. In my private study."
Klauss turned to address his soldiers. " We're going to set up a watch. The two of you"—he indicated towards his own men—"will return to the entrance of the property. Take the radio with you. I expect to be notified at the sight of any approaching vehicles."
" Jawohl," the men said, although not with too much enthusiasm. The prospect of spending the night outside in the chilling air was none too appealing to them, but by no means was it their worst endeavor of the war.
They exited together through the front door.
The hauptmann then dismissed his remaining two soldiers to a post on the wall of the courtyard. Klauss turned towards Metz and said, " Have your men get some rest, Herr Leutnant. You can come with me to finish this business upstairs."
Metz snapped to the
affirmative and ordered Schmidt and Hilden to help Berlitz into one
of the guest rooms.
" Have you any medicine? Some
antibiotics?" Schmidt asked Granzoli.
" And how about something to eat," Hilden added.
" Down this hallway, you'll find the kitchen on your left. We keep all our medical supplies in a cabinet beside the refrigerator," Granzoli replied. He turned to Klauss and said, " Wouldn't your men like anything to eat, Herr Hauptmann?"
Klauss scowled. " They will eat when they are relieved of their posts. Now take us to your study, so that we may finish this damnable task."
The two officers followed Granzoli to the stairs. Halfway up, Metz turned towards Hilden and told him, " Find a radio and contact our headquarters. We'll need a vehicle escort back to our lines at the first light of dawn."
" Jawohl," Hilden replied.
As soon as the other soldiers disappeared onto the second floor, Schmidt began moving towards the kitchen, Hilden and Berlitz tagging behind. The doctor ordered Berlitz to be sat down at the table, while he and Hilden moved about and flicked on the lamps. Schmidt then headed towards the sink and turned on the faucet, washing away the dirt from his hands and the sleep from his eyes. After drying himself off, he opened the medical cabinet and began rummaging through.
He reappeared holding two bottles. " Here we are, then. Some more penicillin and a sedative. What you need most right now, my dear Berlitz, is a bit of rest. You must get pressure off that bad leg, in any case."
" Leave the sedative, Opa," Berlitz replied. " Not till we're back behind our own lines."
Hilden began to laugh. " What are you so worried about, Berlitz? The Amis won't come hunting for us until daylight. And I think you've seen enough action for one day."
" No," Berlitz answered. " If they want Granzoli, they might come here. Even now."
" Hilden, fetch me a pail with clean water and soap," Schmidt instructed. " And some fresh bandages."
While the soldier went searching for the materials, Schmidt gingerly unwrapped Berlitz's dressings and began probing at the head wound cautiously. Berlitz flinched at the slightest touch.
Even with watering eyes, Berlitz couldn't help but wonder at Schmidt's gentleness. Images of the brutality at Trinitia flashed through his head. He remembered Schmidt, covered with blood, strangling the life out of an enemy soldier. Was it possible that such a violent animal of destruction could possess the humane touch of a doctor, even now?
Schmidt's wrinkled face was scrunched in concentration, trying to make out the infected wound in the dim light. When he spoke, it was almost absent-mindedly. "You'll need two weeks of recovery for the head, at the very least. More for the leg, probably. It's a miracle that you didn't have a concussion. Things could have ended up very badly for you, and for all of us."
" Haven't they already?" Berlitz asked, quietly. " What about Merhoff, and Kiehler, and Hamman?"
Schmidt spoke solemnly. " I have no intention of surviving this war. I do not feel it is justified that I should go on living when so many others have died. But I will stand my ground until Death comes to my door. Because, in the end, that is all that we can do."
" And if we do survive?" Berlitz asked. " If Germany surrenders, and the war is over, what will become of us?"
Schmidt shrugged. " My fate is waiting at the end of a gun. If the enemy does not pull the trigger, I will."
" I found soap and bandages," Hilden's voice drifted in from the hallway. "I'm going to make us some sandwiches. The bastard had better keep some decent food around here. Some good ham, maybe. And wine. And…"
Schmidt sighed and turned back to Berlitz. " Alright, Gefreiter, let's try and clean you up."
Metz stood rigidly next to Klauss, watching the wiry Italian scientist remove a crate of files from a large safe in his office. These he hauled onto his titanic mahogany desk with a grunt.
" The results of years of work," Granzoli said, his arms protectively wrapped around the crate.
" Would you mind if I had a look?" Hauptmann Klauss demanded.
" I already told you, that is not possible," Granzoli replied. " I do not mean to insult your intelligence, Herr Klauss, but I doubt that you would understand very much of what is in these files. Advanced genetics, human anatomy-"
" Topics which I have studied while in the gymnasium," Klauss retorted, angrily. " I am not a stupid man, Herr Granzoli."
Klauss reached for the crate and tried to pull it away, but Granzoli clamped on tightly. A quick and wordless wrestle ensued, both men exerting themselves physically to pry away the files. Finally, Klauss ripped it away from Granzoli's hands; papers and photos went flying out across the room.
" My work!" the scientist screamed.
Klauss yanked out his Lugar and pointed it at the man, hissing through his teeth, "Don't test me, you meddlesome idiot. Another word and I will kill you where you stand."
Falling silent, Granzoli watched as Metz bent over and began retrieving the papers. The Leutnant paused, gazing at one of the photographs. Slowly, he rose and crumbled it in his palm. The Italian let out a faint cry of rage, but Metz's fiery glare struck him silent.
" You disgust me," Metz growled. With that, he turned on his heels and walked towards the door.
" I didn't expect someone like you to understand," Granzoli snapped, his voice condescending and seething with anger.
Metz froze. He wheeled around and stormed back to the desk, roaring, " What? What is there to understand, you murdering son of a bitch? The people at Dachau and Auschwitz have had enough to suffer through without your godless science. How can you justify your crimes?"
" They're only filthy Jews and convicts," Granzoli replied. " Abschaum. Scum. At least now they're giving back something useful to society."
During this brief exchange of words, Klauss had ventured over to the crumpled picture and unfurled it. Frowning, he asked, " What is the purpose of those vats of water?"
" Hypothermic experimentation," Granzoli answered indignantly. " I do not have to be the one to remind you of the brutality of the Russian winters. Our young soldiers were being sent back by the thousands with cases of severe frostbite and pneumonia. Dr. Rascher suggested that we experiment with methods of resuscitation and shock treatment from extreme cold."
" And you did this on the prisoners?" Klauss asked tersely.
Granzoli blinked. " Well, yes. There was quite a bit of alarm over the news of our pilots being shot down in the Arctic regions. Our purposes were to first determine the length of time required for a loss of consciousness, when submerged in ice water. Dr. Lutz, if you are familiar with the name, believed that the heart could be stimulated back to its full potential at any point above13 degrees Celsius. Our tests on the prisoners revealed that death occurs between the core temperatures of 24.2 degrees Celsius and-"
" I don't care, damn you!" Metz shouted.
Klauss scraped up another paper from the floor and glanced at it. " Where does Dr. Mengele tie into all of this?"
Before Granzoli could begin speaking, Metz cut him off, his voice dripping with venom. "Another monstrous creation of our government. They're calling him 'The Angel of Death' in the underground of Berlin. I've read stories about his mutilations and his experiments with the twins at Auschwitz."
" Mutilations?" Granzoli stammered. " Herr Leutnant, surely you do not buy in to the enemy's propaganda. Doktor Mengele is only attempting to carry on the wishes of the Fuehrer. Genetic manipulating a new master race. Think of the beauty and perfection that can come from this science."
" There's nothing beautiful about what is being done to those people," Metz answered. " I would not wish that fate upon any one of my enemies."
He turned again to leave, but Granzoli's voice stopped him once more.
" Come now," Granzoli said. " There is no need to be so dramatic. As a soldier, death is nothing new to you."
Metz paused at the door. " Death is something I've come to accept as a part of my fate. But do not even presume to tell me that killing men on the battlefield can be compared to the torture of young women and children. If you are at all familiar with the concept of a soldier's honor, you will see that we have nothing in common."
Granzoli dismissed this with scorn. " Self-righteous justification. Are you trying to preach morals to me, Herr Leutnant? Well, in that case, murder is murder."
Glaring over his shoulder, Metz said, " I have no regrets. That much you can never say."
He shut the door and went out.