My father and Gottlob Wut were still in the Slovenian mountains, west of Maribor, when the hunt for Chetnik Captain Rakovich began.
There was no hunting at all in the Slovenian mountains. The Germans were on the defensive now, and the Ustashi were biding their time, middle-of-the-road. The Red Army wasn't as far west as Slovenia, and the partisan forces weren't at their strongest; the Ustashi weren't really fighting for the Germans any more - not wanting to turn the partisans against them - but it wasn't quite safe enough for the Ustashi to fight against the Germans either. At least not in Slovenia.
And Gottlob Wut was getting depressed. His legs and back and general walking apparatus were pitifully shot, and there were very few roads in the mountains where Gottlob could wheel his motorcycle peacefully and freely. And by November the mountains were very cold; the motorcycles needed a lighter oil.
It was some time in mid-November that the staff radio in the 600 sidecar model began to burble; up to that time, Vratno and Gottlob had figured the radio was dead, or that any mobilized German effort was out of broadcasting range. Gottlob eavesdropped over his radio; for two days the burble grew louder, but it was all some sort of number code. On the third day, however, Gottlob Wut recognized a voice from Motorcycle Unit Balkan 4.
'That's Wallner!' Gottlob said. 'That hot-rodding punk, he's got my old job!' And before my father could knock him away from the radio, poor Wut flipped on the transmit switch and shouted, 'Piglet! Incompetent piglet!' Then Vratno tackled him off the seat, scrambled back to the radio and flipped off the transmit switch, leaving the dial at listenin. Where they heard a motorcycle idling, almost stalling.
Then Wallner's voice whispered or gasped, 'Wut! Herr Commander Wut?' While Wut tore the grass on the ground. 'Commander Wut?' the voice said again.
There was only the rough idle coming over the radio when Gottlob said, 'Listen to that engine! It's so far out of tune, it would burn up if you ever had to push it.'
But the transmit switch was left off; Wallner was given no opportunity to confirm what he thought he heard. Radio Wallner said, 'Bronsky, are you switched on? Come in, come in.' And there was nothing, so Wallner said, 'Gortz, listen in! Listen in, Metz! It's the commander, didn't you hear him?' And then he shouted, 'Vatch, are you there, Vatch?' Then the motorcycle stalled and Wallner grunted some untender oath. Vratno and Gottlob could hear him jumping on the kick starter.
'He's got the choke full on,' said Wut. 'Listen to him draw the air.'
And they heard the kick starter ratcheting up and down; far away from catching, his engine sucked.
'Listen in, you bastards!' Radio Wallner screamed. 'You're supposed to be switched on!' And he labored on the kick starter, panting into the radio. 'You pricks!' he screamed. 'I heard old Wut!'
'Old Wut!' said Wut, but my father held him back from the transmit switch.
'Old Wut is around!' Wallner screamed to the radio. 'Where are you, Wut?'
'Up your ass,' said Gottlob, still tearing grass.
'Wut!' Wallner screamed.
And another radio voice said, 'Who?'
'Wut!' said Wallner.
'Wut? Where?' the other voice said.
'That's Gortz,' Wut told my father.
'Bronsky?' said Wallner.
'No, Gortz,' Gortz said. 'What's this Wut shit?'
'I heard Wut,' said Wallner.
A third radio voice said, 'Hello?'
'That's Metz,' said Wut.
'Bronsky?' Wallner asked.
'No, Metz,' Metz said. 'What's up?'
'Wut's around,' said Wallner.
'I didn't hear him,' Gortz said.
'You weren't switched on!' Wallner screamed. 'I heard Wut!'
'What'd he say?' asked Metz.