leaned forward. ‘And how many women can you handle at one time, may I ask?’
‘Don’t you wish you knew!’ Kern grinned significantly. Now that the conversation had taken its usual turn, several of the men yawned. Maag, however, spurred him on. ‘Come on, let’s have it.’
Kern pretended reticence. The presence of Dorn inhibited him.
‘Why, you can see by his nose that he hasn’t lost his sex yet.’
Schnurrbart drawled. ‘He just boasts. He’s so bad at it he lives from hand to prick. '
‘Hell to you!’ Kern snapped, enraged. ‘If you’d had all the sex I’ve had, you wouldn’t have to.’
Maag looked enviously at him, recalling his one and only experience. He’d had a few drinks for courage, then gone to a whorehouse. He’d paid his money and the blonde girl had taken him to a small red-carpeted room. But something funny had happened to him there; when she pulled him down on her, all his excitement had evaporated and nothing she could do helped. He had lain with his head on her breasts, tears streaming down his face. Finally she had sent him home, keeping the money. Ever since he had been scared stiff it would happen again; he was always worrying about it. If the same thing ever happened to him with Monika, she’d be sure to find somebody else. Perhaps she had already done so. The idea made him sweat. He tried to distract himself, and looked at Kern who was just relating his latest adventure with a twenty-five-year-old war widow. The men listened with mingled fascination and scepticism. Dorn had turned away indifferently. Now he stood up brusquely and walked a few steps away, sitting down by a tree.
Schnurrbart had meanwhile begun distributing the soup among the mess-tins, measuring conscientiously and handing each man his portion as it was doled out. He looked around and asked: 'Where is Steiner?’ Krüger shrugged. ‘I don’t know. The Professor isn’t here either.’ Maag jerked a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the trees. ‘They must be somewhere back there.’ Hollerbach stood up and walked in the direction Maag had indicated. ‘Extras for us,’ Kern growled irritably. He had placed the mess-tin on his knee. He sniffed several times at the dark concoction and began carefully spooning it out. The soup was hot. He burned his mouth and cursed. ‘Tastes like prussic acid,’ he observed. Krüger grinned. ‘Spill the muck off the top first,’ he said. ‘What muck?’ Kern asked, examining the mess-kit suspiciously. Krüger shook his head. ‘Can’t he tell muck when he sees it. I wonder what kind of stuff he serves his guests back home.’
His professional pride slighted, Kern threw his head back and snarled: ‘Shut your mouth!’
For a second Krüger looked at him in surprise. Then his face hardened. ‘You want to make something of this?’ he said calmly.
Kern stared into his icy eyes and suddenly felt frightened. He mumbled something indistinct and looked down at his mess-tin again. This time he discovered the layer of filth floating on the surface. Sickened, he dumped half the soup on the ground. ‘Looks like spunk,’ he mumbled.
‘You should have skimmed it,’ Maag advised. He was eating rapidly. But Kern had lost his appetite. Disgruntled, he placed the mess tin on the ground.
Hollerbach returned to the fire. ‘What’s up?’ Kern asked him uneasily. The others lowered their mess tins. Hollerbach shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Steiner’s gone off somewhere. Pasternack says Steiner walked off by him without saying a word.’
‘Where to?’ Krüger asked in perplexity.
Hollerbach sat down. ‘The devil only knows.’
There was a moment’s silence. The wet wood crackled in the fire and sent a rain of sparks spurting from the hole. Schnurrbart turned to Hollerbach. ‘Where’s the Professor?’
‘He’s asleep. Though he doesn’t seem to be really asleep, Pasternack says.’
‘Sick?’ Schnurrbart asked with concern.
They fell silent.
‘Don’t you wish you knew!’ Kern grinned significantly. Now that the conversation had taken its usual turn, several of the men yawned. Maag, however, spurred him on. ‘Come on, let’s have it.’
Kern pretended reticence. The presence of Dorn inhibited him.
‘Why, you can see by his nose that he hasn’t lost his sex yet.’
Schnurrbart drawled. ‘He just boasts. He’s so bad at it he lives from hand to prick. '
‘Hell to you!’ Kern snapped, enraged. ‘If you’d had all the sex I’ve had, you wouldn’t have to.’
Maag looked enviously at him, recalling his one and only experience. He’d had a few drinks for courage, then gone to a whorehouse. He’d paid his money and the blonde girl had taken him to a small red-carpeted room. But something funny had happened to him there; when she pulled him down on her, all his excitement had evaporated and nothing she could do helped. He had lain with his head on her breasts, tears streaming down his face. Finally she had sent him home, keeping the money. Ever since he had been scared stiff it would happen again; he was always worrying about it. If the same thing ever happened to him with Monika, she’d be sure to find somebody else. Perhaps she had already done so. The idea made him sweat. He tried to distract himself, and looked at Kern who was just relating his latest adventure with a twenty-five-year-old war widow. The men listened with mingled fascination and scepticism. Dorn had turned away indifferently. Now he stood up brusquely and walked a few steps away, sitting down by a tree.
Schnurrbart had meanwhile begun distributing the soup among the mess-tins, measuring conscientiously and handing each man his portion as it was doled out. He looked around and asked: 'Where is Steiner?’ Krüger shrugged. ‘I don’t know. The Professor isn’t here either.’ Maag jerked a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the trees. ‘They must be somewhere back there.’ Hollerbach stood up and walked in the direction Maag had indicated. ‘Extras for us,’ Kern growled irritably. He had placed the mess-tin on his knee. He sniffed several times at the dark concoction and began carefully spooning it out. The soup was hot. He burned his mouth and cursed. ‘Tastes like prussic acid,’ he observed. Krüger grinned. ‘Spill the muck off the top first,’ he said. ‘What muck?’ Kern asked, examining the mess-kit suspiciously. Krüger shook his head. ‘Can’t he tell muck when he sees it. I wonder what kind of stuff he serves his guests back home.’
His professional pride slighted, Kern threw his head back and snarled: ‘Shut your mouth!’
For a second Krüger looked at him in surprise. Then his face hardened. ‘You want to make something of this?’ he said calmly.
Kern stared into his icy eyes and suddenly felt frightened. He mumbled something indistinct and looked down at his mess-tin again. This time he discovered the layer of filth floating on the surface. Sickened, he dumped half the soup on the ground. ‘Looks like spunk,’ he mumbled.
‘You should have skimmed it,’ Maag advised. He was eating rapidly. But Kern had lost his appetite. Disgruntled, he placed the mess tin on the ground.
Hollerbach returned to the fire. ‘What’s up?’ Kern asked him uneasily. The others lowered their mess tins. Hollerbach shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Steiner’s gone off somewhere. Pasternack says Steiner walked off by him without saying a word.’
‘Where to?’ Krüger asked in perplexity.
Hollerbach sat down. ‘The devil only knows.’
There was a moment’s silence. The wet wood crackled in the fire and sent a rain of sparks spurting from the hole. Schnurrbart turned to Hollerbach. ‘Where’s the Professor?’
‘He’s asleep. Though he doesn’t seem to be really asleep, Pasternack says.’
‘Sick?’ Schnurrbart asked with concern.
They fell silent.
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