The Traitor by Guy Walters

Author:Guy Walters
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Atria Books

Lockhart could hear the hubbub of the POWs inside the theater, obviously excited, looking forward to a break in the arduous camp routine. Jüttner had assured Lockhart and his men that they would be safe—he had positioned thirty heavily armed soldiers in and around the building, and at the slightest physical disturbance they were under orders to shoot. Lockhart was both reassured and repelled by the idea. He did not wish to have the blood of innocently protesting POWs on his hands, and told Jüttner as much. Jüttner doubted that it would come to that, but Hauptsturmführer Lockhart should prepare himself for some heavy barracking.

The guards at the door parted to let them through, and they stepped into the dim light of a simple wooden hall. The only evidence that it was a theater was the existence of a basic wooden stage at the other end. Although it was no more than seventy or eighty feet away, to Lockhart it looked like the same in yards, because in between him and it were four hundred faces—English faces worn thin by a bad diet and hard work—turning to leer at him, to mock him.

“Here they are!” one of the faces shouted.

He kept his eyes firmly ahead, rooted to the wall at the end. As he walked down the aisle, the men erupted into a cacophony of booing, jeering, hissing and shouting. Through the noise he could make out the occasional insult.

“Fucking turncoats!”

“Traitors!”

“Fuck off back to Berlin!”

“Nazi cunts!”

“Scum!”

This was worse than he had expected. Not that he had anticipated a reverential hush, but he thought the men might have been somewhat quieted by curiosity. But instead, fists and hands were being vigorously brandished, and the odd rotten vegetable thrown. Jüttner, despite his self-confessed yellowness, walked serenely through the throng, obviously a man accustomed to dealing with unruly POWs.

They mounted the stage and sat on some flimsy folding chairs. Lockhart felt Worstead looking across at him, presumably wanting a consoling glance, but he wasn’t going to give it. He kept his gaze above the heads of the men, who Jüttner was now trying to pacify. He had no wish to catch any of their eyes, although he knew he would have to when he came to speak.

“Silence!” shouted Jüttner.

The order had no immediate effect.

“Silence! Or you’ll have no food for the whole of tomorrow!”

The noise was still too great for the men to hear Jüttner’s words, but a few of them had picked out the word “food” and had correctly guessed what went with it. Word was relayed from neighbor to neighbor, and soon much of the noise petered out, leaving only the occasional “You call what we eat food?” and “You can fucking keep it!”

“Prisoners of war!” Jüttner began. You are here to listen to some of your fellow countrymen, who have made the bold decision…”

“Stupid bloody decision!”

“Treacherous decision!”

Jüttner let the few heckles go. Three years of running POW camps had taught him that men under the threat of a day without sustenance become extremely compliant.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.