Ashes by Haunted Computer Books Page B

old people’s home. Automatic gunfire erupted like
popcorn kernels over a fire. Minutes later, Scherr and the other
reservists exited the smoky portal that led into the building. No
Jews accompanied them.
    Nearby, Wassen stood leaning against a stone
wall. At his feet was a woman, a blossom of blood on the back of
her dress. Wassen dropped his rifle and knelt, vomiting. Wolfram
looked around to see if anyone noticed them. An old Jew, who might
have been a rabbi, gave a grim nod. Wolfram turned away and stood
over Wassen.
    “ We have orders,” Wolfram
said gently.
    “ I can no longer shoot,”
Wassen said, wiping his nose on his uniform and leaving a long,
greasy smear.
    “ Are you out of
ammunition?”
    “ I can no longer
shoot.”
    Wolfram looked at the rabbi and the other
Jews huddled around him on the rough, pebbled street. “Join Drukker
on guard duty at the station.”
    “ Thank you, Herr Oberleutnant .”
    “ Efficiency,” Wolfram said.
“A man who can’t shoot is more useful somewhere else.”
    More shots rang out. The men had been given
extra ammunition before the train rolled into the station. They
must have known this action was to be unusual. They must all have
suspected what was coming.
    Scherr jogged up, breathless, his cheeks
flushed despite the heat. He appeared rejuvenated, years younger.
Blood dotted his boots. “We have about three hundred workers to
transfer,” he said. “And the others are ready.”
    “ March the workers to the
station,” Wolfram said. “Are Second and Third platoons in
place?”
    “ Yes, sir.”
    “ Continue the action.
Captain Hermmansbiel said this should take less than a
day.”
    It was a job, a mission. Hermmansbiel had
delivered the order, probably doing the same thing Wolfram was
doing, the same as Scherr. Passing a command down the ranks. No
single man was responsible.
    The worker Jews rose on command, flanked by
guards, and moved down the street. How accepting they are, Wolfram
thought. How dignified.
    Then their sheepishness made him angry. He
had known a German Jew in Hamburg, an engineer who built parts for
milling machines. A fine craftsman who had shared some of his
people’s strange beliefs. Wolfram, a Lutheran, wondered if the
engineer had been relocated out of Germany with all the others. He
might even be among this crowd, being shuttled once again. If he
were still able to walk.
    More women, children, and the ambulatory
older men were gathered in the square. Wolfram guessed there were
maybe a thousand. A dozen reservists from the Third platoon each
selected a single person from the assemblage. They urged the Jews
toward the forest, one of the policemen sticking a bayonet tip into
the back of his charge.
    Lieutenant Von Offhen, leader of the Third
platoon, flagged down Wolfram. “This is going too slowly.”
    “ How far into the woods are
they taking them?”
    “ A half
kilometer.”
    A fusillade of shots sounded in the distance.
Wails arose from a few of the women, causing the infants to renew
their cries. The Jews’ composure of the early morning was fading as
the July heat settled in and realization unvelveted its claws.
    “ You have a guard for each
Jew,” Wolfram said. “But none are attempting to flee.”
    “ It gives the men a chance
to rest. The shooting is—mentally exhausting.”
    “ They’ll be more exhausted
if we have to continue this into the night, working by the
headlights of trucks.”
    “ There’s another problem.
The forest trail is already becoming cluttered with bodies.
Maneuvers are difficult.”
    “ Try this. Use only two
guards to escort each group of Jews. The others can reload and be
ready when the group arrives. Start at the farthest end of the
trail so that each succeeding trip is shorter.”
    Von Offhen’s brow furrowed. “I’m not sure the
men will like it. Especially those doing the shooting.”
    Wolfram thought of Scherr’s pink, joyful
face. “Let anyone who wants to be relieved come down and watch