Pursuit by Robert L. Fish Page A

secret of survival.”
    He looked at the doctor with that cold smile on his lips.
    â€œSo the first step was to get out of Maidanek, since being there when the Russians come marching through the gate is certainly no way to survive. With an idiot like Mittendorf in charge, I expect that when the Russians get there they’ll find, not only some of the prisoners, but some of the SS as well. Not Mittendorf himself you may be sure, the pig also has a strong sense of survival, but there will be others. Men the commandant dislikes, men he envies for qualities he lacks. And the commandant would have liked nothing better than to have Colonel von Schraeder numbered among them. It was a chance I did not choose to take.”
    â€œBut, me—?”
    â€œYou? I did not want to take the chance of losing you. You could have been transferred to some other camp, out of my sight. That was also a chance I did not choose to take.”
    The doctor removed his military cap and rubbed his head furiously.
    â€œBut the Russians may be stopped before they reach the camp—”
    Von Schraeder contemplated the doctor as he would a specimen under glass, foreign and difficult to understand. The doctor’s response had truly surprised the colonel.
    â€œFranz, my friend, if you believe that, you’ll believe anything. The Russians won’t be stopped before they get to Maidanek. They won’t be stopped before they get to Berlin. It’s all over. The war is lost, my friend.”
    Schlossberg was truly shocked. His eyes fled to the impassive profile of the driver outside the glass partition. “That’s—that’s treason!”
    â€œHe can’t hear us, if that’s what bothers you,” von Schraeder said dryly.
    â€œIt’s not a question of whether he can hear us,” Schlossberg said heatedly, his Nazi background compelling him to protest. “Saying the war is lost is nothing but treason!”
    Colonel von Schraeder seemed faintly disappointed, as if a favored pupil had failed an easy question on an exam.
    â€œFranz, listen to me. To me, treason is using boxcars wastefully when the army is in desperate need of them. There was a time when we could afford the luxury of using ammunition to shoot Jews, women, children, what have you, but that time is past. Today it is treasonable to waste this ammunition. To me it has been becoming more and more treasonable to kill men who can work in factories and manufacture things we need. My God! We’re like two separate countries working against each other, the country of the Wehrmacht, and the country of the Mittendorfs! We seem to have forgotten the Russians and the British and the French and the Americans! So now we have to pay. The war is lost. That is the payment.”
    He stared into the doctor’s eyes.
    â€œBe logical, Franz. You’ve had scientific training. You’re a graduate of Heidelberg with honors; you received your medical training at the Berlin Institute of Surgery; you practiced under the great Dr. Feddermann before the war—” Schlossberg stared in surprise at this knowledge of his background. “Well, then,” von Schraeder went on, his voice friendly, “use that scientific training, or if not, at least use common sense. What can be treasonable—or patriotic, for that matter—in stating a simple fact? You heard Mittendorf announce that our Middle Army Group in Russia had been destroyed, and he cited Guderian as his source. Well, I can tell you we lost twenty-five divisions in that fiasco, more than we lost at Stalingrad. It was a worse loss than Stalingrad, much worse, in every sense. And my source in Berlin is fully as reliable as Guderian!”
    â€œYour source—?”
    â€œObviously,” von Schraeder said almost wearily, “I have connections in Berlin or I should not have been able to arrange our transfers. The name von Schraeder still means something to some