War Girls Complete Collection Chapter 156

Chapter 11

P

eter had been diligently training the

soldiers

under his command. They were eager and willing, but he couldn’t make up for a lack of proper military training in a matter of days. If only he had arms for each one of his men, but for now they had to make do with ten men sharing one weapon.

On July 31

st

of 1944 General Bór called for a meeting with all his officers. Peter and Marek arrived at the headquarters with time to spare, but when they stepped into the room, they realized everyone else was already there.

“Sorry for being late,” Peter said.

“You’re not late, since everyone else was early. But let’s not waste more time,” General Bór’s confidante Colonel Mituk said and waved them forward.

Bór laid out a map of the capital on the large wooden table and began to explain his plan. “The time has come. I am ordering the full mobilization of all forces.”

The tension in the room exploded as everyone snapped to attention, devouring the instructions of Mituk, who now took over the explanations. “W-Hour is tomorrow, August 1

st

, at 1700 hours.” He pointed at several officers and then put his finger on the designated concentration points on the large map, explaining, “You take your units to Zoliborz, the Old Town and the City Center. It’s important to have our entire troops mobilized and gathered in the designated buildings. Weapons will be distributed as we obtain them.”

The officers nodded their heads, gathering closer around the table to find the buildings where they had to wait for

wybuch

, the Polish word for outbreak.

“I don’t have to remind you how important the element of surprise is. Under no circumstances must the Germans get wind of our plans.”

After several minutes of discussion, Marek raised his voice. “What about uniforms?”

“Naturally, everyone who owns a uniform will wear it. Everyone else has to make do with what he has,” Mituk explained.

Peter grimaced. An army without weapons, and without uniforms. That wouldn’t be well received under the Geneva Convention. “But wouldn’t that make us partisans that the Germans don’t have to treat like enemy soldiers, but can do with as they please?”

“Unfortunately, yes. But there’s no way we can organize uniforms. Those who own one from previous battles are the lucky ones; the rest better not get caught,” Mituk said with a grin, trying to lighten the mood. Everyone in the room knew what the Nazis did with the insurgents whom they called

Banditen

.

“How will we distinguish fighting insurgents from civilians?” Peter asked.

Colonel Mituk waved a young man with a heavy sack forward. He opened the sack and took out red and white armbands. “Everyone who wears this is a soldier of the Home Army. Take armbands for all your men, and some to spare. This is one of the few plentiful things we have.”

Ten minutes later Peter and Marek left the headquarters and returned to Marek’s place to gather their uniforms and start the telephone chain to inform their troops, so everyone would arrive at the concentration points before nightfall. Peter thought of his sister-in-law Lotte and hoped she’d long left Warsaw. After tomorrow nobody would be safe in this city anymore.

“Wouldn’t it be better to surprise the Germans in the morning? Our men aren’t trained soldiers and would do better fighting in the daylight,” Peter said, more to himself than otherwise as he checked on his Mauser pistol. Since it was a German pistol, he was confident he’d find ammunition for it somewhere should the uprising last more than a few days.

“Trying to back out already?” Marek said in a snide tone. “The Nazis hate fighting at night, so they won’t expect us to begin a battle in the evening. And the cover of darkness will give us an advantage. We know our city a lot better than they do…except for people who chose to spend the last five years far away.”

“That’s enough!” Peter replied. On the eve of the uprising, it was high time to put their differences aside. “Jozef, it’s obvious…”

“It’s Marek.” Marek looked him dead in the eye.

“Well, then. Marek. It’s obvious you have a problem with me. And it’s equally obvious that your animosity towards me will not help us win this battle. So, let’s get it out of the way once and for all. What’s your problem?” Peter stood in front of his former friend, feet planted hip-width apart. If Jozef needed a brawl to get over his animosity, he wouldn’t shy away.

“I’ll tell you what my problem is, asshole. You cannot be trusted.” Marek spat on the ground.

“What makes you think so? When have I ever done anything to deserve this accusation?”

“You abandoned your country. You took the easy way out and fled when the Nazis came and crushed us. Do you have any idea how hard it was to live five years under their occupation?” Marek’s loud voice shook with emotion.

“You think I had it easy? That you were the only one to suffer? You know nothing.” Peter took a step toward Marek, staring him down.

“Don’t I? Explain it to me then. Tell me how your fleeing to Britain was so hard.” Marek stepped forward until their foreheads were mere inches apart.

“The Brits and the French promised to stay by our side should Hitler invade, and I believed them. I…we all…strongly believed they would keep their promise and attack. It was only natural to evade capture and join the British Army. The idea was to return and liberate Poland.”

“That went quite well, did it?” Marek sneered.

“You’re right; it didn’t work out. After months of preparation, the Wehrmacht vanquished us in France and we were lucky enough to get out of Dunkirk. If Hitler had annihilated the BEF right there and then, there wouldn’t have been a sliver of hope left for a free Europe.”

“Oh, now you’re the savior of free Europe and not the coward you effectively are?” Marek glared at him and Peter almost surrendered to the overwhelming urge to retreat. But he wouldn’t budge.

“I’m not a coward. You have no idea how many of my men I saw die. And don’t you think I would have preferred to be here when my Ludmila and Janusz were taken to the Ghetto in Lodz? Don’t you think I would have wanted to be with them and find a way to rescue them? Don’t you think it was hard to get the notice they were both killed?”

Marek didn’t waver from his point of view. “You’re right. You should have been here, but instead you lived a peaceful and comfortable life in Berlin and became subservient to the German pigs. I know all about you and your Nazi professor. Driving a Mercedes for a piece of shit, what a heroic task to help Poland!”

“You’re even more of a dumbass than I thought. You really think it was easy holding my tongue and saying nothing when those Nazi pigs started running their mouths? You think it was easy having to stand by and watch one atrocity after another and not being able to do anything to stop it?”

“Maybe you should have done

something

. At least you’d die a righteous man and not a filthy collaborator,” Marek said.

“I’m not a collaborator! How dare you?” Peter balled his hands into fists, fighting the urge to strangle the stubborn man who insisted on baiting him with his dirty insults.

“Well…that’s what we call it around here, when you make your bed with the occupiers. And people get executed for that. I honestly have no idea why Bór accepted you as a fighter…why he even gave you a battalion.”

Peter stared at his former friend, still not fully believing that Marek had called him a collaborator. Instead of setting them to fighting shoulder to shoulder for their country, this atrocious war had made enemies out of friends. “Look, man. I came here with one goal in mind. Destroying the Nazis.”

“Well, at least we still have that in common,” Marek murmured beneath his breath.

“W-Hour is tomorrow. I’d feel a lot more confident if I knew you had my back, instead of having to fear you’ll feed me to the lions the moment you get a chance,” Peter said.

“Turn you in to the Nazis? I’d never stoop that low. I’d rather kill you myself.”

“If that isn’t a relief,” Peter answered with a sarcastic smile. “Truce?”

Marek looked at his outstretched hand and grudgingly shook it. “Fine. Truce. For Poland. But only while the operation lasts. I’m going to bed.”

Peter watched him disappear into his bedroom and then he quietly prepared himself something to eat, thinking about his beloved Anna. He yearned to send her a letter, but that wasn’t possible. Since he’d slipped back into his Polish identity, he had no business contacting her. A simple letter from him might cause the Gestapo to ask uncomfortable questions.

He could only hope and pray for her continued safety, despite the constant allied air raids on the city of Berlin.