War Girls Complete Collection Chapter 127

Chapter 11

T

he following days passed in a blur. Richard lay in bed and Katrina came every couple of hours to tend his wounds or feed him. He saw how she crushed cabbage leaves with clean water to make a paste, which she applied to his wounds before she dressed them. Before long, he yearned for her gentle touch and kind words.

After a week, or perhaps two, Richard finally felt strong enough to venture out of his room. But before he could put the plan into action Katrina entered his room carrying a bowl of soup.

“Good morning, Katrina,” he greeted her with a smile.

“You’re feeling better, Richard.”

“How do you know my name?”

Her cheeks turned a sweet pink and she pointed at his clean uniform, neatly folded across a chair. “I took the liberty of searching your pockets before washing it.”

Richard moved his hands beneath the blanket to find the familiar material of underwear missing and clamped his eyes shut as a wave of embarrassment washed over him. He’d rather not know who undressed him and preferred to believe it was the burly man he faintly remembered carrying him here.

“You need to eat,” Katrina said in flawless German, holding out the bowl of soup for him.

“Thank you…” Richard started his sentence, but she’d already fled the room, leaving him stupefied and missing her company even before the last glimpse of her backside disappeared.

He ate his soup and then eyed his uniform with disdain. It stood for something he didn’t want to be part of anymore, but since he had nothing else to wear, he slipped on the trousers and the jacket. Then he ventured out into the house. Upstairs were two more tiny bedrooms, similar to the one he’d been sleeping in. As far as he could tell, only one room was occupied – by Katrina – whereas the other one stood empty.

With wobbly legs, he descended the stairs into the big kitchen with the adjacent sitting room. A typical farmhouse. The outhouse stood several dozen yards away in the vegetable gardens, where hens were running around clucking. From what Richard could see this had once been a large working farm, growing crops and raising livestock.

“Eek,” Katrina shrieked at the sight of him and jumped backward. “Oh, it’s you. Sorry.”

“It’s the uniform, isn’t it?” Richard asked and she nodded. It stabbed at his heart to know he’d scared her. It was easy to see how much she hated what his uniform represented. His country, his compatriots, his everything. He hadn’t given it much thought before, but her reaction showed him that he couldn’t walk around in this uniform. “I…maybe I should go back upstairs…” Richard turned, but his weak body protested, and he managed no more than four stair steps before he had to sit down, dizziness threatening to overwhelm him.

“Are you alright?” Katrina came and kneeled in front of him saying, “You look pale.”

“I guess I overestimated my strength. I should return to bed.” He tried a grin, but it probably looked more like a pain-ridden grimace.

“Why don’t you sit here in the armchair and we’ll chat while I get some work done?” She helped him up and led him to the comfortable armchair by the fireplace. During winter the fire would be a cozy place, but in late spring it lay idle.

“How long have I been here?” he asked, watching her chop green leaves.

“Eleven days,” she said without looking up. Chop. Chop. Chop. With breathtaking speed, the knife in her hand cut through her supply of leaves.

“That long?” He lapsed into thought. By now they must have found the bodies of Alex and Karl. His heart squeezed with grief. How could he explain to his superiors where he’d been since the tunnel explosion? So much time had passed. He remembered well the interrogation and resulting lock-up in Warsaw. He had no reason to think it would be different this time.

What should he tell them when asked who’d nursed him back to health? They would come for Katrina – he was sure about that. He couldn’t risk her getting hurt because of him.

I’ll have to disappear. Hide somewhere

.

“You can’t return,” she said, interrupting his thoughts. Then she turned her head and her warm brown eyes locked with his. “It wouldn’t be safe. For either one of us.” Her hands stopped chopping and poured the leaves into a big bowl.

“I know. I’ll leave. Hide somewhere.”

“First your strength has to return. You didn’t even get up the stairs, how do you think you’ll fare walking into the woods?”

“I hadn’t thought about that. What are you doing?” he asked, pointing at the bowl.

“I’m making an ointment for your wounds. My parents…” she paused for a moment, “they were healers. They taught me about natural remedies.”

“They’re dead.” It was an affirmation, not a question. He had heard the pain in her voice when she’d mentioned them and therefore wasn’t surprised when she nodded. “Do you have siblings?”

“I do. Three brothers, all older than I am.”

“Please tell me about them, if it’s not too much to ask.”

Katrina smiled in a way that lit up his heart. “Only if you tell me about your family, too.”

“It’s a deal.” He chuckled. “But start by telling me why your German is so perfect.”

“Actually, many people around here speak German. Before the invasion, we lived in peace with our neighbors. Jews, Germans, Poles, Ukrainians, Russians, everyone. We learned German and Russian at school, English too, because my parents thought languages are important.”

“I agree with them,” Richard said. “When we first met, I thought you didn’t understand me.”

“I refuse to speak German with the occupiers. They don’t deserve it. And it’s better to let them think I don’t understand.” Katrina kneaded the chopped leaves into a paste with a strong-smelling liquid.

“Where are we, by the way? In Baluty?”

“No, this farm is about a twenty-minute drive to Lodz. Not that we have motorized vehicles anymore…three hours’ walk if you take the main road.”

“But you live on your own? What about your brothers?”

“Currently, I’m the only one here.” She sighed before continuing, “My oldest brother Piotr left for Warsaw to marry when he turned eighteen, twelve years ago. He became an officer in the Polish Army. He and his wife Ludmila used to visit us often, together with their son Janusz. Until the invasion. Since then I haven’t heard from him. God only knows if he’s still alive.” She paused for a moment, scrambling for words. “Then there are Stanislaw and Jarek. They’re twins, but they couldn’t be more different from each other. They’re still around. Somewhere.”

By the way her voice grew wary he knew she was hiding something. Her brothers probably belonged to the partisans. Maybe they were responsible for blowing up the train tunnel, or his capture. He’d rather not meet them eye-to-eye.

“And then there’s me. I’m the youngest. But since I’m the only one left on the farm, I do what I can to keep things running. The Germans have requisitioned everything of value and still they come back every now and then to demand more.”

“It’s a heavy burden on the shoulders of a young girl.” Katrina was so fragile, yet so strong. His heart pounded his admiration for her.

She sent him an angry stare in response. “We do what we must. And nobody would be in this awful situation if it weren’t for your awful Führer and his delusional racist ideas!”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you. This…” he made a gesture encircling the room and taking in the world beyond it, “…I could have done without all of this. We were happy. My family and me. We didn’t want this war either.”

“Let’s pretend the invasion never happened and our nations are still friends,” she said, the smile returning to her face. “Now it’s your turn to tell me about your family.”

“I haven’t seen them in almost two years. Since…since the day I turned seventeen and got my marching orders. My father was drafted in 1940 and all we know is that he’s a prisoner of war somewhere in Russia.”

“I’m sorry about that.” Katrina’s voice was full of compassion.

“My mother and two of my three sisters live in Berlin. Ursula, the oldest, works as a prison guard.”

“Prison guard?” Her head whipped around.

“Not by choice. She was assigned this job by the

Reichsarbeitsdienst

. Ursula would never raise her voice to oppose or complain. So she obeyed. In contrast, Anna, the second one, fought tooth and nail to convince my parents to allow her to go to university and become a biologist. But she had to resign herself to becoming a nurse.”

“A nurse. So we’re basically colleagues.” She held out the bowl to him. “Can you help me with this and pour it into the jars over there?”

“Sure.” They worked together in silence, and cold sweat broke out on his forehead from the effort. Katrina was right; he wouldn’t be able to leave the house, not before another three or four days of recovery.

“You said there’s another sister,” Katrina mentioned later as she closed the lids of the jars.

Richard returned to the armchair and flopped down with a groan. “Yes. Lotte. She’s seventeen.”

“Like me.”

“In fact, you do remind me of her,” he said with a chuckle as his mind drifted back to home. “She’s fiery, strong-minded, outspoken, always taking risks. Our mother was so worried about her dislike for the Nazi government that she sent her to the country to live with our aunt.”

A bell-like laughter filled the room. “The way you describe her, I’m sure we would become friends. Your sister and I.”

“I guess you would. I miss her. A lot.” He rubbed his scruffy face, suddenly feeling the weight of the entire world draped over his shoulders. “I should get back to bed.”

“You should,” she said after a scrutinizing glance at his face. “The fever is returning. Get some rest. I’ll bring you another bowl of soup later.”

Richard nodded and turned to go, but in the doorjamb, he turned around. “Perhaps you could give me something else to wear. If you have anything. It’s not safe for either one of us if anyone sees me in my uniform.”

“I’ll check.”

Panting, he made his way up the stairs, stopping every four steps and then dropped onto the bed, passing out within seconds.

When he woke, the sun had dipped low on the horizon and voices drifted to his room from downstairs. He slid to the door to close it, when he noticed a boy about eleven years old, with ruffled dark hair. Richard pressed against the wall, not daring to make a single sound for fear of being discovered.

“Tadzio, what can I do for you?”

“Ma was wondering if you might have something for Lola’s gripes. Keeps us up all night with her crying,” the boy said.

“I sure do,” Katrina said, gesturing for Tadzio to follow her into the kitchen, away from the stairs. “Come on in and have some herbal tea while I mix Lola’s medicine. It takes babies a while to settle down, you know.”

Richard wondered if it wasn’t simply hunger that made the poor mite howl. From what he’d seen, the Poles didn’t get to keep much food for themselves.

“I set some traps today,” the boy said, walking into the kitchen. “I’ll come by tomorrow if I have any luck.”

“Hmm, that would be nice, if you have anything to spare.”

Richard silently closed the door and returned to his bed. Katrina had so much more on her hands than he could ever manage. Overwhelmed by an intense emotion for her, he determined to stay with her and help.

That makes me officially a deserter

.

The thought should frighten him. Make him feel guilty. Shameful, at least. Instead, relief flowed over him like a freshwater stream. Hitler’s war wasn’t his war anymore. Nobody could force him to commit or condone the atrocities happening. Freedom hovered just at the tips of his fingers.