Death at Nuremberg (Clandestine Operations 4)

“Wagner, sir.”

“I take it, Captain, sir, you’re not going to observe the body search?” Anderson asked.

“I don’t like looking at Nazis when they’re fully dressed. Seeing one naked with his rear end exposed for the doctor’s examination would be just too much for my delicate stomach.”

When the guards had Stauffer shuffling toward the prison entrance, Dunwiddie went to the French officers.

“The officers’ mess is two streets down and one over. They expect you, and they’ll feed you and get you a place to sleep. And when you get back to Strasbourg, please give my respects to Commandant Fortin and say, Merci mille fois.”

—

“So how’d you get to be the interpreter?” Dunwiddie asked when the French ambulance had driven off.

“Colonel Rasberry said it would give me a chance to move around.”

“He knew what you’re doing here?”

“I guess Colonel Cohen did. Or maybe Mr. Cronley.”

“How’s it going?”

“I just got here.”

“Did you hear what happened to Cronley and Winters?”

“Mr. Cronley had to shoot some fräulein in the eye.”

“In the forehead. And he didn’t have to. It just happened. He shot at the windshield and she was on the other side. It bothers him. Which leaves me worried about both of you.”

“I’m all right.”

“Casey, these people kill people. Including nice young Pennsylvania Dutchmen. That makes me worry. Ostrowski is also worried.”

“I’ll be all right.”

“Since Cronley would pass it down to me, I’d have to write the letter to your mother saying you were no longer with us. Don’t make me have to do that, Casey.”

“I will try very hard to stay alive,” Casey replied. “What’s with you and Lieutenant Anderson? I expected you to stand him tall, the crap he gave you just now.”

“I know you know about Norwich, so I will tell you.”

“How do you know I know about Norwich?”

“Because General White told me he had explained its virtues to you. And that, when General Harmon is allowed to retire and become president of Norwich, he will arrange a scholarship for you. When that happens, you will be honorably discharged from the Army for the purpose of enrolling at Norwich. And General White has charged me with encouraging you to do so. That means I have to keep you alive or face the wrath of General White, something I don’t like to consider.”

“That doesn’t answer what’s with you and Lieutenant Anderson.”

“Freshman students at Norwich are called ‘rooks,’ as West Point freshmen are called ‘plebes.’ Rooks are introduced into such subjects as close order drill by upperclassmen, with the hazing part of that instruction left to sophomores.

“Lieutenant Anderson was a year ahead of me at Norwich. He pushed me over the edge, primarily, I believe, because he doesn’t like people with my complexion, and so one day I beat the crap out of him. He, of course, turned me in. Other upperclassmen came to my aid, and the result was that I wasn’t expelled, and he was told to leave me alone. Which he did.

“After I resigned, I have been reliably informed, he expressed pleasure that, quote, the nigger is finally out of here and will be an enlisted man the rest of his life, end quote. Or words to that effect.

“And then we both wind up in Nuremberg. Me with railroad tracks, and him with a brand-new first john’s single bar. That was very hard for him to take. What I suspect the sonofabitch was up to just now was to have me deck him again. Rooks can beat up second classmen in some circumstances. Captains cannot assault junior officers under any circumstance. Get the picture?”

“Yes, sir. I get it.”

“What I just told you goes no further. Understood?”