The Collected Stories of Heinrich Böll

  Of course, building a bridge slated for destruction the moment you’ve finished it is not a particularly rewarding task. Only the architect’s profession places such strong emphasis on an object’s durability, while other arts tend toward transience. So we made our measurements and calculations with no great joy, though we were certainly happy to have escaped the dull wait at KNX Reserve Construction Staff Headquarters.

  Since my orders included instructions to complete the project within two weeks at the latest, and since I had reckoned on three thousand man-days of labor, I requested two hundred and fifty men, figuring in as usual an extra percentage for high work stoppage, wear and tear, and various other standard imponderables on projects of this nature. And naturally I needed at least fifty additional men as cooks, medics, and guards to handle the workers’ mess hall, infirmary, and guard duty. A precondition was the ready availability of sufficient quantities of all the necessary building materials. And lastly, I needed a few explosives experts from the Corps of Engineers during the first two or three days to help blast away the few small remaining portions of the bridge itself.

  All these calculations, measurements, and the like had taken the three of us—Schneider, Schnur, and me—roughly three days. During this first stay in Berkovo we had an opportunity to observe the rowdy, one might even say demoralized, behavior of the local reserve, who were under the command of an older second lieutenant and two sergeants. Rumors of the coming general retreat, which could no longer be silenced, had reached this godforsaken village and were running rampant. Morale was sinking daily. Units making for the bridge on the basis of older maps often arrived by mistake, several trucks appeared carrying rations, and troops wandered in who had simply lost their way. The inevitable whispers that passed from man to man carried a message of cynical frankness: It’s every man for himself. This was accompanied by a frightening and pernicious maxim: Enjoy the war; peace is going to be hell. These two precepts became standard mottoes of the local guard, who were expecting to be withdrawn any day. There was open prostitution with the tavern keeper’s daughter, a coarse, crude blonde, as well as with other women. I myself saw large portions of the clothing depot and items of equipment (including, I presume, weapons) being sold or bartered to Russian vagabonds, who were literally dragging bags of money with them and disposing of the goods in some mysterious manner. There were orgies every night, in which the lieutenant, who raised a few feeble objections now and then, was placated expediently by shoving the best-looking woman present into his bed, after first making sure he’d had plenty to drink.

  A certain strange sorrow clung to the soldiers in the midst of these activities, bearing witness to some remnant of decency; and it could perhaps be said that too much was asked of them. I must also add that a fairly large number of soldiers avoided these orgies; but two drunks make more noise than two hundred sober men. None of those who distanced themselves from such goings-on, however, were in a position to oppose them actively. They all suffered from the terrible sickness of resignation.

  I reported such incidents the moment I returned to headquarters, as duty required, although I was aware of the difficulty I would have if I were asked, for example, to offer proof of my observations. It was standard practice in the course of a retreat for a unit to keep whatever black-market stock fell into its hands without reporting it.

  Immediately upon my return I presented my plans and calculations, which were forwarded at once to the supply depot and labor pool department. Thanks to the admirable energy and high morale of our staff, the requested men and materials were not only made available but loaded and set in motion within the week. They even sent along four transportable barracks to house the men. These proved unnecessary upon arrival, since the local guard had been withdrawn in the meantime, so that the houses were now available. Since it would have been senseless to return the barracks, they simply made things more comfortable in the course of construction.

  The South Army Group quickly deployed two panzer units to protect the now suddenly important bridge. These two units were posted approximately two hundred meters to the south and north of us, to protect us from possible surprise attacks from the hinterland as well as possible encroachments by Russian troops breaking through from the other bank of the river. A smaller troop took up position directly behind us, so that, protected by a sort of bridgehead, we were able to begin on schedule and according to plan.

  I must add here that my people were extremely nervous, since the withdrawal of the local guard meant that for all practical purposes the area had returned to the status of a battle-field, and in fact based on the sounds of combat we heard over the next few days, at times relatively close, then farther off, we gathered that we were occupying a fairly advanced post.

  But everything went according to plan, including the imponderables we had allowed for: work stoppages, loss of materials, unexpected disturbances in the course of construction, rain or extreme cold. The remaining piers had sustained greater damage than expected, for I hadn’t been able to examine all of them closely during our initial inspection, no boat having been available. But we had made the necessary allowances, and our work proceeded on schedule. Early on I had the old woman who ran the tavern arrested, along with her daughter and the rest of that bunch, and requested new, supervised prostitutes, who arrived promptly and were billeted in one of the houses. We even managed to have schnapps and tobacco delivered, for over the years we had learned that these items, of relatively minor value in themselves, contributed significantly to the success of any project. After all, you couldn’t expect willing and enthusiastic work from forced labor of all nationalities unless certain material advantages were made available to them.

  Thus the two-week construction period proceeded according to schedule. The only thing worthy of note were the rumors delivered each day by the men driving the supply trucks: that a general retreat (now and then they even dared to use the word rout) was now underway; that a large number of our troops had already evacuated the right bank of the Berezina, which must mean they were planning to allow the main mass of the enemy to advance without resistance; that the bridge to the southeast would probably be sufficient for the retreat after all; all sorts of demoralizing tales to which I naturally closed my ears, even if they weren’t truly mutinous enough to call for a military report. I remained in constant contact with headquarters, giving them regular reports on our progress, and it gave me a great deal of satisfaction not to have to make excuses about being behind on the project, since—as I’ve said—we were right on schedule.

  It’s true, however—and since I’ve made it my duty to report the truth, I must add this qualification—that I too was secretly disturbed by the sounds of battle, which had drawn fairly near after the first week and appeared to be approaching steadily ever since, at times coming dangerously close to the right bank of our construction project.

  I was also allowing small groups of retreating soldiers to cross over on a footbridge, providing their papers were in order, or if they were accompanied by an officer, since I sympathized with these exhausted men and didn’t want to send them two kilometers upstream unnecessarily. But in the case of leaderless and disorderly troops, or individuals who claimed to be stragglers, I was far stricter, insisting that they proceed to the other bridge, since I knew that they would be subjected to careful inspection there and that no one fleeing on his own, or perhaps even planning to desert, would be allowed to cross. The gloomy silence of the officers in these groups, seven or eight of whom I allowed to cross during the first ten days or so, reinforced in me a certain inner pessimism, of which of course I gave no external sign. I was relieved of all personal responsibility by my daily contact with Southeast Construction Headquarters, who constantly emphasized the importance of finishing the bridge on schedule.

  Thus everything proceeded according to plan, right up to the final day of construction. Two days before the deadline we were already beginning to affix the thick, treated oak planks to the finishe
d framework of the rebuilt bridge with a special type of threaded rivet. These thick planks could support the heaviest of vehicles and armored weapons. Work progressed well on the final day. Knowing we were near our goal put everyone in a good mood, and the prospect of soon escaping the danger zone—the noise of distant battle from retreating troops could now be heard both night and day—spurred everyone on. I had half the planks we needed carried across the footbridge to the other side of the river—taking responsibility for the risk, having prudently considered the probable success of the measure—so that we could begin laying the planks from both directions on the final day. This introduced a certain healthy competition between the two teams working on the bridge, leaving aside the motivating factors already mentioned above. Over the years I’d often found such competitive situations useful. A total of one hundred and twenty workers were involved, and I had divided them into two teams of sixty each, under the command of Schnur and Schneider. The remaining eighty—the others had dropped out, as predicted—had been ordered to start loading the unused construction supplies, as well as the tools, kitchen utensils, and so on, for my ambition was to inform the Southeast Construction Headquarters of the completion of the bridge and of our total readiness to withdraw in a single call.

  Around noon on the final day the teams had drawn so near to one another that I could extend the work break by half an hour with an easy mind (much against the wishes of the men, as I later learned, who would have preferred to work on to the end without a break, in order to escape the increasingly risky situation). The apparent eagerness and exhaustion of the men made me lenient, however. I was filled with the proud knowledge that we were reaching the end of a skillfully calculated project, carried out with equally masterful speed and precision. My commanding officers at headquarters, who had inspected the ongoing project on several occasions in the company of various members of the general’s staff, let it be known that I was assured of the Distinguished Service Medal, First Class.

  Work continued rapidly after the break, and good progress was being made in loading the supplies. I had already dispatched several trucks.

  The noise of battle was constant, and now it came nearer, seeming to concentrate menacingly at a single spot. The sound of heavy cannon reached us like someone pounding steadily and impatiently on a door, trying to break it down, and at times we could hear not only the impact of the shells but also the discharge of the guns. All of these sounds, including infantry fire and the rumble of tanks, accompanied the final hours of our work, but could not prevent it. To be sure, the panzer units deployed for our protection—without having received any orders, as I later learned—made ready to withdraw, and both commanding officers, a lieutenant and a captain, kept a silent eye on the construction site, probably to get some idea as to when their flight might commence.

  I was first directly affected when, around three in the afternoon, a young second lieutenant from the engineer brigade drove up in an all-terrain vehicle, accompanied by two soldiers. This very likable and sensible young man told me that he had been ordered to blow up the bridge at four o’clock. He showed me his written orders, and delivered news of recent strategic developments to justify his assignment. The retreat of the troops on the opposite bank was now almost complete. One of the larger units had been left behind to engage the main body of the enemy and give the appearance of major resistance. Of course, the lieutenant told me in confidence, the unit had secretly been given up for lost, and the order had been issued to blow up both bridges at four o’clock, regardless of the situation at the time.

  Two enemy army columns were expected to arrive at the respective bridges around four-thirty at the latest, and the Army Command Staff felt they could not afford to leave either bridge open as a line of retreat for the troops who were still fighting, fearing that either bridge might be taken by the enemy and used in their advance. So the order had been given to blow them up by four o’clock at the latest, sooner if necessary. Still, this was not to be done until enemy troops were observed in the immediate vicinity. This would place us in an extremely disadvantageous position, however, since the forest stretched almost to the water along the right bank of the Berezina.

  First I inspected the bridge, which was now almost finished, with the young lieutenant, and during this initial inspection, which took place around three-fifteen, he sought out the best locations for the explosives. He was amazed at the state of the bridge. He’d been told it would be at least another week before the bridge at Berkovo would be finished, and he knew the same impression had been conveyed to the officers of the troops battling on the other side. This offered sufficient explanation for the surprising fact that not a single unit of regular troops had tried to cross the bridge up to this point. Even in its present condition it could have served as a crossing, even for motorized units, and I certainly wouldn’t have stopped anyone from using it.

  I returned at once to my office and, in the presence of the lieutenant, began a fruitless series of phone calls. I called the commanders at Construction Headquarters: They’d heard nothing about blowing up the bridge. I was to continue construction until I received orders to the contrary. Then it took me almost half an hour to reach the Southeast High Command, over lines that had been heavily damaged. The lieutenant’s orders were confirmed.

  My situation was, as may be imagined, a strange one. Everything the lieutenant said appeared valid, and although I would have given a good deal to complete my project, I had no interest in placing even the least of my men at risk for a single moment longer than my orders required. I therefore phoned again to Construction Headquarters. Like Command Headquarters, they were located approximately two hundred kilometers to the west. The chief himself ordered me rather impatiently to continue construction, as a matter of principle. His exact words were: We mustn’t abandon our principles, no matter how much pressure we’re under. Then he added that he was expecting to hear from Command Headquarters any minute with confirmation of the lieutenant’s orders. He hung up. It was ten minutes to four. The bridge would be finished by four, and an ominous silence reigned on the other side of the river. The bridge was complete except for a remaining gap of about three-quarters of a meter. It would be finished precisely to the minute. Not one of my projects had ever proved untenable. I tested the solidity of the planks and rivet screws one last time. In the meantime all the remaining supplies had been loaded, and only a few empty trucks stood waiting for the workers, their motors running. I had given orders to withdraw at five past four.

  Two men from Schneider’s team screwed down the last of the rivets a few minutes before four, while the lieutenant was already busy placing the explosives, which were linked by fuses. The lieutenant himself walked to the middle of the bridge at one minute to four, where I was watching the last of the planks being fastened onto the frame. He asked me not to screw down the final plank, since it was a perfect location for a charge of explosives, but I insisted on it, since I had received explicit orders from the chief to stick to our principles. The lieutenant shrugged and walked off. I glanced again at the bridge, then returned to the construction hut with Schnur, Schneider, and the last of the workers to register the completion of the bridge at Berkovo precisely on schedule.

  But now something horrifying happened. On the other side, in the breathless silence, fleeing soldiers appeared from the woods, a few carrying wounded men, others racing along singly, in spite of the total exhaustion that could be read in their faces at this short distance; vehicles too emerged from the woods, all in fearful, wild flight. The crowd thickened, streaming from the forest, racing for the bridge, which must have appeared like hope incarnate, since I had ordered a swastika flag attached to its highest point to celebrate its completion.

  The lieutenant now rushed from the bridge with his men, shrugged, and showed me his watch, which indicated five seconds to four, pointing with his other hand toward a few Russian tanks firing at the fleeing men and drawing dangerously near to the bridge.

  The mo
ment I saw the burning fuse, I too ran to my office and tried to call Southeast Construction Headquarters as quickly as possible. But before my call had gone through, another phone rang. I lifted the receiver and heard the chief’s voice: Stop work on the bridge at once. And since he was about to hang up, I cried, “Hold it!” and gave my report according to regulations: construction of the bridge completed on schedule, to the minute, as ordered. But he was no longer listening … and I was almost deafened by the savage blast with which the bridge now exploded into the air. Then I went to my car and ordered everyone to move out. But I can’t tell you what the bridge at Berkovo looked like after the explosion, because I didn’t look back, although the shells of the Russian tanks were already landing among the houses of Berkovo. Yet sometimes I think I see those exhausted, fleeing men who fought to the last, protecting us too, as duty demanded, and although I did not actually see them, I see them cursing, the fear of death upon their faces, the fear of capture, and hate for us as well, although we too did nothing but act as duty demanded.

  THE DEAD NO LONGER OBEY

  The lieutenant told us to take a break and we did. We were at the edge of a forest, the sun was shining, it was springtime, everything was quiet, and we knew the war would soon be coming to an end. Those with tobacco lit up and the rest of us tried to get some sleep. We were tired, having eaten little and carried out several counterattacks over the past three days. It was marvelously peaceful, somewhere birds were singing, and the air was filled with a soft, moist tenderness.

  Suddenly the lieutenant starting shouting. He cried out: “Hey!” Then he grew angry and bellowed: “Hey, you!” Finally, becoming furious, his voice broke: “You! You there! You!”