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Payback
During the course of an hour in July 1944, bombers fly over an unnamed German city, while down below, civilians live out their last days. First published in 1956, and now available in English for the first time, Payback paints a savage and unflinching picture of the realities of warfare for ordinary men and women.
224 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1956
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About the author
Gert Ledig
5 books8 followersGert Ledig was born in Leipzig and grew up in Vienna. At the age of 18 he volunteered for the army, and was wounded at the battle of Leningrad in 1942. He later reworked his experiences in the book, 'The Stalin Organ'. Switching between the German and Russian lines, Ledig brings us the experience of war from both sides of the conflict. Gert Ledig describes in horrifying detail the graphic and resourceful violence that maims and kills soldiers. In 'The Stalin Organ' Ledig has written an absolutely authentic and powerful account of the horrors encountered in war.
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June 21, 2013The literary equivalent of a brassknuckled punch in the gut. Some books are inarticulate screams. The ones that are articulate, though, are even worse.
March 19, 2009
Like The Stalin Organ, another intense and uncompromising novel about World War II from this German author. This one is about an Allied bombing raid in 1944. Like his other book, not for the squeamish.
June 10, 2013
This is nothing less than absolutely gut-wrenching. Rapid fire paced staccato salvos of human destruction spray out a tale of war. Payback is on par with Shalomov and the Aeneid for the most horrid descriptions of the death of men in war. This is the literary equal to 80's nuke-phobia fueled thrash metal of German bands like Sodom and Overkill. And like those bands the blistering exterior often deters the easily deter-able before they realize the level of talent involved in keeping an audience engage with a pace that rarely strays from exhaustive frenzy. Ledig uses Rabelasian humor, Jarry-like clipped speech and almost a symbolist-like questioning of the role of God in war and death to keep the reader engaged throughout.
Ledig's characters are thinly sketched during the intense battle scenes but in the brief eulogies that follow these scenes, a deeper identity post-death, a reflected contrasting identity lifts them from the satanic confusion and gore that marked the end of their lives. The contrast is extremely effective in distancing war and peace as polar opposites.
Although the characters question God - the narrator never does the same. Flames rise to Heaven, while excrement and blood drip into hell per Ledig's description. Like Virgil and Shalomov and even Rabelais - there is a repetition and almost list-making nature to Ledig's description of war in curt and effective sentences: "This haze rose up", "Suction whirled up dust" etc etc ad nauseum. There's a dizzying effect to this prose that is so unsettling that it would be best described as Satanic. Contemporary apocalyptic authors like Krasznahorkai have also reached the same conclusion as the multiple painters who have depicted the Temptation of St. Anthony; that hell is confusion and a lack of sanity and freedom from suffering and Ledig clearly paints war as hell. Ensor swirled St. Anthony in grime and obfuscation, Krasznahorkai shows evil as that which usurps normalcy and it's collected communications massed into an expressive mass that does the anti-creation. But where Krasznahorkai leads you through never ending senetences - Ledig blasts with phrase after phrase that takes on the rhythm of the Aeneid in short time.
Ledig's prose works like Ivan Albrecht's tiny and malignant brush strokes. Every event on canvas is a minute initiation of decay and collected, his canvases take on the slippery sheen of a dumpsters full of guts.
Payback is absolutely horrid and you should be prepared for the worst because Ledig gives you just that.
This isn't about Germans vs. Americans or Russians - none of that really matters in this context. What Ledig seems concerned with is how humans react to devastation and to a lesser degree what the role of God is in such situations. Very much like Emile Verhaeren's "In a Village" when fire comes and drops church bells on those reduced to using excrement to try to exhaust the flames, Ledig's prose is almost exactly the same as the Belgian's. Both question where God was during this event where Satan seems to reign unchecked.
Things get so horrid that when Ledig writes "Her eye fell on the boy" you have to stop to consider if he meant the boy was being watched - of if a literal eye was released of its socket. This type of humor is also present in Verhaeren who drops a second bell on those staring at a crater cause by the first dropped bell, the same humor as fellow Belgian Breughel who litters scenes of Satanic debauchery with drunken fools, the same as Krasznahorkai who illuminates dim bar scenes with people so self-annihilated they'd be out of place in any other setting that wasn't aerated by the breath of Astaroth and scored by the laughter of Lucifer. In fact - such disparate artists across a range of times and environments reaching the same conclusions makes a pretty convincing argument for the presence of such a clearly defined hell.
Ledig writes: "An Angel spread out its arms to bless them. One wing was missing. It was made of marble." Icons and man's God do nothing at all to ameliorate any suffering in this vacuum of evil.
The last to remain sane is a boy who smarty quips, "They don't hang washerwomen." His wisdom peppers the near final passages of Payback. There's the one ray of hope. The sun only makes the gore more visible.
Some of you may remember that the 7 Habits of Highly Effective People starts with a story of a man that can't control his kids of a bus, he is asked to calm them by irritated passengers who are quickly reminded of their lack of compassion when the man tells them that his normally well behaved children are out of sorts today because their mother died this morning. Ledig tells the same story when a boy is chided for not giving up his seat in a shelter only to reveal that he has been maimed. The boy retorts, "That's fine, if I get enough exercise - the doctor says I'll live to be one hundred." He is given an apple for his remark.
"Have you never seen such a thing?" someone asks of a doctor. "Yes I have" replies the doctor who's new perspective informs a more detailed view, "But all I could ever see was the battlefield." he replies.
Ledig takes us up close to the painting, has us examine the details then gently dolly-shots us back to a the view where Kiefer's fecal strokes molt into an amazing canvas of purulent beauty and Ensor's abominations take on a radiant luster.
For Overkill and Satan - it's truly a pleasure to kill.
Ledig's characters are thinly sketched during the intense battle scenes but in the brief eulogies that follow these scenes, a deeper identity post-death, a reflected contrasting identity lifts them from the satanic confusion and gore that marked the end of their lives. The contrast is extremely effective in distancing war and peace as polar opposites.
Although the characters question God - the narrator never does the same. Flames rise to Heaven, while excrement and blood drip into hell per Ledig's description. Like Virgil and Shalomov and even Rabelais - there is a repetition and almost list-making nature to Ledig's description of war in curt and effective sentences: "This haze rose up", "Suction whirled up dust" etc etc ad nauseum. There's a dizzying effect to this prose that is so unsettling that it would be best described as Satanic. Contemporary apocalyptic authors like Krasznahorkai have also reached the same conclusion as the multiple painters who have depicted the Temptation of St. Anthony; that hell is confusion and a lack of sanity and freedom from suffering and Ledig clearly paints war as hell. Ensor swirled St. Anthony in grime and obfuscation, Krasznahorkai shows evil as that which usurps normalcy and it's collected communications massed into an expressive mass that does the anti-creation. But where Krasznahorkai leads you through never ending senetences - Ledig blasts with phrase after phrase that takes on the rhythm of the Aeneid in short time.
Ledig's prose works like Ivan Albrecht's tiny and malignant brush strokes. Every event on canvas is a minute initiation of decay and collected, his canvases take on the slippery sheen of a dumpsters full of guts.
Payback is absolutely horrid and you should be prepared for the worst because Ledig gives you just that.
This isn't about Germans vs. Americans or Russians - none of that really matters in this context. What Ledig seems concerned with is how humans react to devastation and to a lesser degree what the role of God is in such situations. Very much like Emile Verhaeren's "In a Village" when fire comes and drops church bells on those reduced to using excrement to try to exhaust the flames, Ledig's prose is almost exactly the same as the Belgian's. Both question where God was during this event where Satan seems to reign unchecked.
Things get so horrid that when Ledig writes "Her eye fell on the boy" you have to stop to consider if he meant the boy was being watched - of if a literal eye was released of its socket. This type of humor is also present in Verhaeren who drops a second bell on those staring at a crater cause by the first dropped bell, the same humor as fellow Belgian Breughel who litters scenes of Satanic debauchery with drunken fools, the same as Krasznahorkai who illuminates dim bar scenes with people so self-annihilated they'd be out of place in any other setting that wasn't aerated by the breath of Astaroth and scored by the laughter of Lucifer. In fact - such disparate artists across a range of times and environments reaching the same conclusions makes a pretty convincing argument for the presence of such a clearly defined hell.
Ledig writes: "An Angel spread out its arms to bless them. One wing was missing. It was made of marble." Icons and man's God do nothing at all to ameliorate any suffering in this vacuum of evil.
The last to remain sane is a boy who smarty quips, "They don't hang washerwomen." His wisdom peppers the near final passages of Payback. There's the one ray of hope. The sun only makes the gore more visible.
Some of you may remember that the 7 Habits of Highly Effective People starts with a story of a man that can't control his kids of a bus, he is asked to calm them by irritated passengers who are quickly reminded of their lack of compassion when the man tells them that his normally well behaved children are out of sorts today because their mother died this morning. Ledig tells the same story when a boy is chided for not giving up his seat in a shelter only to reveal that he has been maimed. The boy retorts, "That's fine, if I get enough exercise - the doctor says I'll live to be one hundred." He is given an apple for his remark.
"Have you never seen such a thing?" someone asks of a doctor. "Yes I have" replies the doctor who's new perspective informs a more detailed view, "But all I could ever see was the battlefield." he replies.
Ledig takes us up close to the painting, has us examine the details then gently dolly-shots us back to a the view where Kiefer's fecal strokes molt into an amazing canvas of purulent beauty and Ensor's abominations take on a radiant luster.
For Overkill and Satan - it's truly a pleasure to kill.
February 12, 2023
A real horrifying story about the Second World War. How a German city is attacked by the allies. It describes all horrors of the war. It might give an impression of the horrors the Oekraïners are facing at the moment.
August 25, 2024
Sehr harte Kost. Das Buch schildert einen Bombenangriffs der amerikanischen Luftwaffe auf eine deutsche Stadt Ende des zweiten Weltkriegs. Das besondere ist, dass der Zeitraum im Buch auf eine Stunde begrenzt ist und mehrere Geschichten parallel verlaufen. Die Story zeigt unterm Strich: Im Krieg gibt es nur Verlierer. Die ein oder andere Geschichte war mir aber einfach zu brutal, sodass ich sogar Seiten überblättert habe. Super schwer das Buch deswegen zu bewerten. In jedem Fall einer der besten Antikriegsromane die es gibt! Von mir nur 3 Sterne weil ich persönlich mit anderen Büchern besser in Resonanz gehen konnte und ich oft hier einfach nur überfordert war (was wahrscheinlich auch das Ziel des Autors war aber ja).
March 23, 2011
Gripping, harrowing book. I did not expect to read it in one sitting, but how can you stop?
Manages the grim feat of conjuring the horror of war without the disgusting veneer of excitement that too often disfigures war narratives.
Manages the grim feat of conjuring the horror of war without the disgusting veneer of excitement that too often disfigures war narratives.
January 22, 2011
Brilliant description of life in Germany under the bombings.
October 10, 2014
Für mich eines der einprägsamsten und schrecklichsten Bücher der Kriegsliteratur. Mir wurde körperlich teilweise richtig schlecht. Traurig, dass Ledig so in Vergessenheit geraten ist.
January 21, 2023
Simply extraordinary. Ledig describes what happens to a few hundred people in a German city during an air raid. Most of the people remain anonymous, a few are introduced to the reader through short italicized passages interspersed through the narrative. Dozens meet a horrifying death, none more so than the girl who gets raped by the man who is buried alive with her, and then slits his own throat. Of a priest whose body is anesthetized by weight of a falling girder Ledig writes: "His pain went unfelt". Honestly I didn't think the chaos of war could be captured in such a visceral way in prose as opposed to film. In his short introduction to the Granta edition Michael Hofmann brilliantly summarizes Ledig's art as "mortal slapstick". I can't find words to express the emotions this book stirs in me at a time when the slaughter in the Ukraine looks set to go on and on and on.
April 27, 2013
This book takes you to a number of different places in a German city during an air raid. When I read the introduction the reviewer mentioned his short sentences. What I initially passed over as just literary buzz words became meaningful as I read this book. The choppy sentences leave no room for anything but the events. It is certainly uncompromising. There were parts that were just brutal to read, and they made up the bulk of the book. But it is precisely this lack of filler and the ability of the author to strip away anything but the relentless portrayal of an unforgiving moment in time that makes this book one of the most incredible works I have read. Not for the faint of heart, but brilliant.
January 8, 2018
I've read a lot of books on war. None of them manages to capture its essence as much as this one. It's like the literary equivalent of the invasion scene of 'Saving Private Ryan' or the combat scenes of 'Band of Brothers' : chaos, mayhem, atrocities. Half of the time you don't fully know what is going on, people's lives are worthless, their names irrelevant, they all disappear in the carnage. Kids who arm anti airplane cannons and get blown into bits, the despair in the shelters, rape.. the total lack of any hope. The innocent die along the guilty.
It's not surprising that the public was shocked when this book came out. It's not exactly heroic, or glorifying war like Ernst Jung does. It's raw, uncompromising.
A must read.
It's not surprising that the public was shocked when this book came out. It's not exactly heroic, or glorifying war like Ernst Jung does. It's raw, uncompromising.
A must read.
January 7, 2013
Oorlog van zijn gruwelijkste kant. Algehele, niets ontziende destructie. Een boek als een loeiharde stomp in de maag.
July 4, 2021
Payback (1956), the second of what would be Gert Ledi's wartime triad, was far less successful in finding readers than The Stalin Front: A Novel of World War II. It takes place not at the front, not with those who expect to shoot and be shot at, but in a German city under assault by American bombing raids. It takes place in only seventy minutes. As in The Stalin Front, Ledig makes us aware of all sides: the bombs falling on the city, the men in the air being shot at with anti-aircraft, and fighter planes, with descriptions I’ve never seen in writing about war:
“Suddenly engines rumbled in the sky. A sharp arrow-fall of magnesium incendiaries bored hissing into the asphalt. A second later they burst open. Where asphalt had been flames crackled. A handcart was blown over by the blast. The shaft flew into the air, a child rolled out of the blanket. The mother by the wall did not scream. She didn’t have time…. Next to the mother stood a woman burning like a torch. She was screaming. The mother looked on helpless, then she too was on fire. It raced up her legs, up her thighs, to her body. She felt it happening, then she collapsed. A shock wave exploded along the graveyard wall and in the moment the road burned too. Asphalt, stones, air."
This is the kind of detail we have gotten used to seeing in recent thriller films, combat or not, body parts flying, legs ripped off, intestines oozing, screams stopped, breath gone. In both The Stalin Front and Payback, Ledig excels at this. Hemingway’s war descriptions seem as if from a distant observer. Those who come closest are Heller, Catch-22, (1961) and Vonnegut Slaughterhouse-Five, (1969). In both of them, the irony is more obvious and less overwhelmed by the macabre, and the fantasy leavens the descriptions, making them easier to “enjoy,” if that is the word. I don’t know, however I can imagine that the wide, international popularity of these two, made the eventual acceptance of Ledig’s work more possible.
For a complete review see https://www.allinoneboat.org/war-as-i...
“Suddenly engines rumbled in the sky. A sharp arrow-fall of magnesium incendiaries bored hissing into the asphalt. A second later they burst open. Where asphalt had been flames crackled. A handcart was blown over by the blast. The shaft flew into the air, a child rolled out of the blanket. The mother by the wall did not scream. She didn’t have time…. Next to the mother stood a woman burning like a torch. She was screaming. The mother looked on helpless, then she too was on fire. It raced up her legs, up her thighs, to her body. She felt it happening, then she collapsed. A shock wave exploded along the graveyard wall and in the moment the road burned too. Asphalt, stones, air."
This is the kind of detail we have gotten used to seeing in recent thriller films, combat or not, body parts flying, legs ripped off, intestines oozing, screams stopped, breath gone. In both The Stalin Front and Payback, Ledig excels at this. Hemingway’s war descriptions seem as if from a distant observer. Those who come closest are Heller, Catch-22, (1961) and Vonnegut Slaughterhouse-Five, (1969). In both of them, the irony is more obvious and less overwhelmed by the macabre, and the fantasy leavens the descriptions, making them easier to “enjoy,” if that is the word. I don’t know, however I can imagine that the wide, international popularity of these two, made the eventual acceptance of Ledig’s work more possible.
For a complete review see https://www.allinoneboat.org/war-as-i...
September 29, 2021
Eine Stunde Luftkrieg in einer deutschen Stadt in der Spätphase des Zweiten Weltkrieges, dargestellt als Collage zeitgleich an verschiedenen Orten stattfindender Ereignisse, Gespräche, Gräueltaten. Eingestreut: biographische Abrisse wiederkehrender Figuren in unterschiedlicher Form - vom Lebenslauf bis zum Brief an die Mutter. Mitunter hat man an der jeweiligen Stelle bereits das Sterben der vorgestellten Figuren mitverfolgt.
Das alles wirkt sehr (post-)modern und äußerst unsentimental. 1956 erstmals veröffentlicht, traf diese Art des unbeschönigten Erzählens (Berichtens?) über erst ein Jahrzehnt zurückliegende traumatisierende Ereignisse auf breite Ablehnung. Die wenigen Stimmen, die auf die literarische Qualität des Werks aufmerksam gemacht hatten, drangen nicht durch. Zum Jahrtausendwechsel wurde der Roman neu aufgelegt und in seiner Einzigartigkeit positiv rezipiert. Noch einmal zwanzig Jahre später gelesen, vermag der kühle Stil immer noch eine eindringliche Atmosphäre zu erzeugen, die aber nicht immer über die gesamte Seitenzahl trägt. Manches wirkt dann doch etwas gewollt schockierend dargestellt oder auf eine moralische Lehre zielend - und inwiefern ein auch literarischer Abstumpfungseffekt in der Zwischenzeit eingetreten sein könnte, ließe sich trefflich diskutieren.
Wer sich für den Zweiten Weltkrieg und seine literarische Darstellung interessiert, sollte diesen Roman als ein ungewöhnliches Beispiel lesen.
Das alles wirkt sehr (post-)modern und äußerst unsentimental. 1956 erstmals veröffentlicht, traf diese Art des unbeschönigten Erzählens (Berichtens?) über erst ein Jahrzehnt zurückliegende traumatisierende Ereignisse auf breite Ablehnung. Die wenigen Stimmen, die auf die literarische Qualität des Werks aufmerksam gemacht hatten, drangen nicht durch. Zum Jahrtausendwechsel wurde der Roman neu aufgelegt und in seiner Einzigartigkeit positiv rezipiert. Noch einmal zwanzig Jahre später gelesen, vermag der kühle Stil immer noch eine eindringliche Atmosphäre zu erzeugen, die aber nicht immer über die gesamte Seitenzahl trägt. Manches wirkt dann doch etwas gewollt schockierend dargestellt oder auf eine moralische Lehre zielend - und inwiefern ein auch literarischer Abstumpfungseffekt in der Zwischenzeit eingetreten sein könnte, ließe sich trefflich diskutieren.
Wer sich für den Zweiten Weltkrieg und seine literarische Darstellung interessiert, sollte diesen Roman als ein ungewöhnliches Beispiel lesen.
December 25, 2018
A forgotten masterpiece. What The Stalin Organ/Front did, and did mercilessly, for the Eastern front, Payback does for the strategically useless allied bombings of nazi German cities. While The Stalin Organ is relentlessly visceral and nihilistic, washing away ideologies, motivations and even personality in the hellish frontlines, Payback both goes beyond the "simple" military atrocity of the first book, including reams of civilians, prisoners, officers and personnel from either sides, ánd, despite everything, it leaves space for light and redemption.
Most of all, Ledig is a tremendously gripping and thrilling author. I finished each book in one or two sessions, always hounded on by the knowledge that every storyline in the shifting mosaic structure has a further role to play. Many of these roles are nonsensical - they die, sometimes horribly, many lose their senses, even the debatable survivors end up with their self-worth in a pool of their own excrements - but Ledig does an amazing job at turning each in a fully realized facet of the over-arching horror.
Most of all, Ledig is a tremendously gripping and thrilling author. I finished each book in one or two sessions, always hounded on by the knowledge that every storyline in the shifting mosaic structure has a further role to play. Many of these roles are nonsensical - they die, sometimes horribly, many lose their senses, even the debatable survivors end up with their self-worth in a pool of their own excrements - but Ledig does an amazing job at turning each in a fully realized facet of the over-arching horror.
November 8, 2023
Ich bin sehr überrascht, dass mir dieses Buch gefallen hat. Die Ausmaße des Krieges sind für jene unvorstellbar, die in einer friedlichen Umgebung aufgewachsen sind.
Auch wenn der Text neutral und scheinbar emotionslos geschrieben ist, so übermittelt er trotzdem Gefühle wie Angst, Wut oder Hass. Genau aus diesem Grund ist dieses Werk sehr interessant und auch faszinierend.
Anders als in anderen Bücher ist auch der Handlungsstrang abweichend von heutigen Geschichten. Das Geschehen im Buch beschreibt nur eine kurze Zeitspanne im Leben vieler Kriegsbeteiligten und durch den Perspektivwechsel ist auch eindeutig klar, dass es im Krieg keine Gewinner gibt. Es wird der Moment kommen, an dem jeder für einen kurzen Augenblick die Oberhand hat. Das ist die Vergeltung.
Auch wenn der Text neutral und scheinbar emotionslos geschrieben ist, so übermittelt er trotzdem Gefühle wie Angst, Wut oder Hass. Genau aus diesem Grund ist dieses Werk sehr interessant und auch faszinierend.
Anders als in anderen Bücher ist auch der Handlungsstrang abweichend von heutigen Geschichten. Das Geschehen im Buch beschreibt nur eine kurze Zeitspanne im Leben vieler Kriegsbeteiligten und durch den Perspektivwechsel ist auch eindeutig klar, dass es im Krieg keine Gewinner gibt. Es wird der Moment kommen, an dem jeder für einen kurzen Augenblick die Oberhand hat. Das ist die Vergeltung.
April 17, 2021
Raw, unsensored, bloody, realistic, chaotic, inhumane, ruthless. Like the stories my grandfather told me about his time in Hamburg as a forced labourer during the bombings in WW2. The fighting for a place in a shelter. Russians being treated less than a stray dog. Rape. Crazy soldiers emptying their machine guns in crowds. The rows about food. The fire storms. He didn't read this book. He was actually there. I read the book and tried to imagine. Nearly impossible. Great book.
February 20, 2022
Wenn man dieses Buch liest, fällt es schwer zu glauben, dass der Roman nicht immer nur enthusiastische Rationen geerntet hat. Florian Radvans vielschichtiger Kommentar erweiset sich daher als wertvolle Ergänzung dieses Textes, der auf Anhieb so gefangen nimmt, dass man von Seite zu Seite eilt. Der Kommentar verdichtet diesen ersten Eindruck in der Retrospektive zum Verständnis eines vollendeten literarisches Kunstwerks.
July 25, 2021
Sehr eklig und makaber - zeigt gut auf, wie grausam der Krieg für alle Involvierten ist (das auch vor allem durch den amerikanischen Soldat, der sowohl Angreifer als auch Angegriffener ist und somit eine neue Dimension in das ganze bringt).
Ich persönlich fand es schon teilweise zu widerlich (vor allem die Vergewaltigungsszene), aber dafür auch nicht sonderlich spannend.
Ich persönlich fand es schon teilweise zu widerlich (vor allem die Vergewaltigungsszene), aber dafür auch nicht sonderlich spannend.
June 9, 2022
1956.
Kindlasti üks parimaid sõjaraamatuid. Koledus ja kannatused, inimese väiksus on alasti, aga kus on imeväike kribal halastust ja lootust.
PS: Kuidagi märgiline, et nägin eile selle raamatu tõlkijat Mati Sirklit mitte inimese moodi tänaval, vaid haisvas tunnelis
Kindlasti üks parimaid sõjaraamatuid. Koledus ja kannatused, inimese väiksus on alasti, aga kus on imeväike kribal halastust ja lootust.
PS: Kuidagi märgiline, et nägin eile selle raamatu tõlkijat Mati Sirklit mitte inimese moodi tänaval, vaid haisvas tunnelis
March 3, 2019
This book will punch you write in the gut. It’s description of a bombing raid on a German town will shake you to your core.
July 30, 2020
Grozljivo, a ne neopravičljivo. Ko zaradi svojih dejanj proti sebi obrneš ves svet, se zgodi to! In potem je sočustvovanje odveč...
Want to read
December 6, 2021SBB 51
July 17, 2023
Descripción descarnada, detallada y horrífica de la guerra.
March 25, 2024
A wonderful book I will never read again
May 10, 2021
I did not like it
February 13, 2017
"Der Wind trieb Sergeant Strenehen gegen die Flaksperre. Sechsunddreißig Geschütze jagten pro Minute die doppelte Zahl Granaten in den Himmel. Sie stiegen herauf wie Raketen. Hilflos trieb er in sie hinein.
Er dachte: Wenn es Menschen sind, werden sie jetz aufhören.
Als Antwort zuckten auf der Erde sechsunddreißig Blitze. Feuerspritzer. Durch die Luft kamen sie ihm entgegen wie Schrapnells. Er trieb fünfhundert Meter vor der Flaksperre. Die ersten Splitter schwirrten ihm entgegen. Manche pfiffen.
Er dachte: Vielleicht sehen sie mich nicht.
Natürlich mußten sie ihn sehen, aber er rechnete sich aus, wie lange ein Befehl braucht, um ausgeführt zu werden. Vom Beobachtungsstand zu der Zentrale, von der Zentrale zu den Geschützen.
Zwischen jeder Salve lagen dreißig Sekunden. Er wußte es nicht, aber er begann zu zählen. Zwei Zahlen waren eine Sekunde. Erst zählte er langsamer. Dann schneller. Die Fallschirmgurte umzwängten seine Brust. Etwas stimmte nicht. Auch der Schmerz im Schultergelenk wurde spürbar. Sein ausgekugelter Arm wurde schwer wie Blei. Als er bis zwanzig gezählt hatte, blitzte auf der Erde wieder das Feuer. Zwei, drei, vier. Ein Schlag riß am Schirm. Strenehen schloß die Augen, wartete auf den Absturz. Doch es war nur eine Luftwelle. Die Detonationen begannen ihn zu schaukeln. Sechs Meter nach rechts, sechs Meter nach links. Er zwang sich wieder zum Zählen. Bei fünf kam eine Bö, drückte den Schirm zur Seite, riß ihn mit sich fort. Zweitausend Meter hoch, befand er sich plötzlich in einem Sturm. Ein Wirbelwind drehte ihn im Kreise. Der Schirm fiel zusammen, entfaltete sich aufs neue.
Er stürtzte dreihundert Meter tief in ein Luftloch, dann drückten ihn Steigwinde wieder in die Höhe. Bei der nächsten Salve war er über einen Kilometer von der Flaksperre entfernt. Als es ihn seitlich abtrieb, fragte er sich, woher der Sturm kam. Da fiel ihm ein, daß die Stadt brannte. Es war erst der Anfang. Zwanzig Minuten später wurde aus dem Strum ein Orkan."
Er dachte: Wenn es Menschen sind, werden sie jetz aufhören.
Als Antwort zuckten auf der Erde sechsunddreißig Blitze. Feuerspritzer. Durch die Luft kamen sie ihm entgegen wie Schrapnells. Er trieb fünfhundert Meter vor der Flaksperre. Die ersten Splitter schwirrten ihm entgegen. Manche pfiffen.
Er dachte: Vielleicht sehen sie mich nicht.
Natürlich mußten sie ihn sehen, aber er rechnete sich aus, wie lange ein Befehl braucht, um ausgeführt zu werden. Vom Beobachtungsstand zu der Zentrale, von der Zentrale zu den Geschützen.
Zwischen jeder Salve lagen dreißig Sekunden. Er wußte es nicht, aber er begann zu zählen. Zwei Zahlen waren eine Sekunde. Erst zählte er langsamer. Dann schneller. Die Fallschirmgurte umzwängten seine Brust. Etwas stimmte nicht. Auch der Schmerz im Schultergelenk wurde spürbar. Sein ausgekugelter Arm wurde schwer wie Blei. Als er bis zwanzig gezählt hatte, blitzte auf der Erde wieder das Feuer. Zwei, drei, vier. Ein Schlag riß am Schirm. Strenehen schloß die Augen, wartete auf den Absturz. Doch es war nur eine Luftwelle. Die Detonationen begannen ihn zu schaukeln. Sechs Meter nach rechts, sechs Meter nach links. Er zwang sich wieder zum Zählen. Bei fünf kam eine Bö, drückte den Schirm zur Seite, riß ihn mit sich fort. Zweitausend Meter hoch, befand er sich plötzlich in einem Sturm. Ein Wirbelwind drehte ihn im Kreise. Der Schirm fiel zusammen, entfaltete sich aufs neue.
Er stürtzte dreihundert Meter tief in ein Luftloch, dann drückten ihn Steigwinde wieder in die Höhe. Bei der nächsten Salve war er über einen Kilometer von der Flaksperre entfernt. Als es ihn seitlich abtrieb, fragte er sich, woher der Sturm kam. Da fiel ihm ein, daß die Stadt brannte. Es war erst der Anfang. Zwanzig Minuten später wurde aus dem Strum ein Orkan."
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January 20, 2011oh Classic!
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