‘I’ll get some warm clothing.’ Carla turned to Werner. ‘Come and help me. Grab blankets from anywhere.’

The two of them ran around the emptying psychiatric ward, pulling blankets off beds and out of the cupboards. Each carrying a pile, they hurried down the stairs.

The garden of the hospital was frozen earth. Outside the main door was a grey bus, its engine idling, its driver smoking at the wheel. Carla saw that he was wearing a heavy coat plus a hat and gloves, which told her that the bus was not heated.

A small group of Gestapo and SS men stood in a knot, watching the proceedings.

The last few patients were climbing aboard. Carla and Werner boarded the bus and began to distribute the blankets.

Dr Rothmann was standing at the back. ‘Carla,’ he said. ‘You . . . you’ll tell my Hannelore how it was. I have to go with the patients. I have no choice.’

‘Of course.’ Her voice was choked.

‘I may be able to protect these people.’

Carla nodded, though she did not really believe it.

‘In any event, I cannot abandon them.’

‘I’ll tell her.’

‘And say that I love her.’

Carla could no longer stop the tears.

Rothmann said: ‘Tell her that was the last thing I said. I love her.’

Carla nodded.

Werner took her arm. ‘Let’s go.’

They got off the bus.

An SS man said to Werner: ‘You, in the air force uniform, what the hell do you think you’re doing?’

Werner was so angry that Carla was frightened he would start a fight. But he spoke calmly. ‘Giving blankets to old people who are cold,’ he said. ‘Is that against the law now?’

‘You should be fighting on the Eastern Front.’

‘I’m going there tomorrow. How about you?’

‘Take care what you say.’

‘If you would be kind enough to arrest me before I go, you might save my life.’

The man turned away.

The gears of the bus crashed and its engine note rose. Carla and Werner turned to look. At every window was a face, and they were all different: babbling, drooling, laughing hysterically, distracted, or distorted with spiritual distress – all insane. Psychiatric patients being taken away by the SS. The mad leading the mad.

The bus pulled away.

(vi)

‘I might have liked Russia, if I’d been allowed to see it,’ Woody said to his father.

‘I feel the same.’

‘I didn’t even get any decent photographs.’

They were sitting in the grand lobby of the Hotel Moskva, near the entrance to the subway station. Their bags were packed and they were on their way home.

Woody said: ‘I have to tell Greg Peshkov that I met a Volodya Peshkov. Though Volodya was not so pleased about it. I guess anyone with connections in the West might fall under suspicion.’

‘You bet your socks.’

‘Anyway, we got what we came for – that’s the main thing. The allies are committed to the United Nations organization.’