War Girls Complete Collection Chapter 162

Chapter 17

L

otte leaned back against the passenger seat of the Kübelwagen, hoping the trip to her new location would be uneventful. She closed her eyes to keep the images of destruction away from her and listened in on the banter of the three soldiers escorting her.

Johann’s conversation with the airport commander had taken longer than expected and it was already late. Oberführerin Kaiser had telephoned the airport to ask about Lotte’s whereabouts and let them know that she and the other Blitzmädel had safely arrived in the new location.

The Kübelwagen slowed around a corner and ran straight into a barricade. Even before Johann could bring the vehicle to a halt, the soldiers at the barricade opened fire. While Lotte sank to the foot space, crying out when a searing pain tore through her arm. A warm and sticky liquid flowed over her fingers as she reached for the injury.

I’ve been shot.

As soon as the thought had crossed her mind, loud voices yelled something, and she glanced up to see at least a dozen armed men, pointing the muzzles of their guns at the heads of the passengers.

Again

. She had to stop being in front of a muzzle.

Lotte blinked. These men were all clad in German leopard-spotted camouflage smocks. Why on earth would they shoot at a German automobile? A rough voice yelled something in Polish that obviously meant she should get out of the vehicle. She blinked again and noticed the red and white armband. Partisans.

Her hand trembled as she raised her hands. Her escorts were yanked from the Kübelwagen and forced to the ground on their bellies. She swallowed hard and awaited the same manhandling when the passenger door slammed open and she stared into the face of a young man with deep green eyes. He couldn’t be older than sixteen.

The insurgent seemed to be as surprised as she was and assisted her from the vehicle in a fairly gentler manner, yelling, “A woman!”

A tumult ensued, and she feared for the worst. What if the insurgents had decided to pay back in kind? After everything she’d seen and heard about the rampaging SS troops, she couldn’t even hold it against them.

From the corner of her eye she saw Johann and the other two soldiers frogmarched away with their hands held on their heads. Her heart sank at the depressing sight and she hoped they wouldn’t face the same fate captured insurgents did.

“What are you doing here?” an older man asked her with a gruff voice in rather good German.

Since she wore her uniform, she couldn’t deny her occupation. Neither did it make sense to tell him she was a British spy. They probably wouldn’t believe her anyway. “I’m a radio operator.”

“Yes, yes, I can see that. But women aren’t supposed to be in the battle zones,” he said, his perusal of her person stopping on her arm, which now throbbed like hell.

“I…those soldiers you captured, they were about to relocate me to a safer place outside the Old Town,” Lotte said. She wanted to put pressure on her gunshot but didn’t dare to move for fear of being shot at again.

“Lemme see this,” the man said and took a step towards her. When he took off her jacket and grabbed her arm, she winced with pain. He rolled up the sleeve of her blouse and took a closer look. “Bullet shot right through. A bit of stitching up and you’ll be fine.” He produced a red and white armband from his pocket and tied it around the wound. “That’ll stop the bleeding.”

“

Dziękuję!

” Lotte thanked him using one of the few Polish words she’d learned, even as she eyed the armband suspiciously.

Does that make me a partisan? Will the next ones to shoot at me be my own people?

“Take her to the hospital,” he ordered the young soldier who’d taken her from the automobile, and put her jacket around her shoulders before he motioned his other men to follow him. Johann and the others were long out of sight, but at least she hadn’t heard any gunshots ring out.

The young boy, who looked sorely out of place in his too-big German uniform, made a gesture for her to follow him and said something in Polish she didn’t understand. Whatever it was, she’d better follow his orders. Not that she had much choice in the matter.

They walked for what seemed an eternity, her arm pounding with every step she took, until he finally stopped in front of a run-down damaged building and opened the heavy door to push her inside. The amount of suffering she witnessed there appalled her and she instinctively took a step back and crushed herself against the young man standing behind her.

Lotte wasn’t faint of heart, but the multitude of injured people, groaning and whimpering, was more than she could stomach after a day like this one. Bile burnt up her throat, making her swallow hard, as she focused on the clear blue eyes of a young girl who’d appeared out of nowhere. Although she was dressed like a nurse, she couldn’t be older than maybe nine or ten years. Her short blonde hair was tied neatly with a huge pink bow, and her smile defied the dire circumstances in the makeshift hospital.

“Come with me,” the girl said in passable German, weaving her way through the room. Only about a third of the patients lay in beds, with the rest crouched on the floor.

“Take off your jacket,” the girl-nurse said, and Lotte did as she was told. She winced at the pain caused by the sudden movement and showed her exposed arm. The girl said with an apologetic smile, “It will hurt.” Then she rubbed disinfectant over the wound and all Lotte could do was to press her lips together, trying not to cry out at the stinging pain searing through her arm.

“Thank you,” Lotte murmured when the pain subsided, and she noticed the girl had already applied a bandage to the wound. “What’s your name?”

“Pauline,” she said almost inaudibly, casting her eyes downward. “You can rest over there…”

“Thank you for helping me.” Lotte spotted an empty space on the far side of the room and walked over there. Exhausted to the bone, she slumped down against the wall. The wounded men next to her gave suspicious glances at her uniform but didn’t say a word. Lotte was thankful for their silence. She’d had enough excitement for one day.

Within moments, her eyelids closed and she fell into a troubled sleep.

The next morning,

searing pain woke Lotte when someone bumped against her injured arm. She opened her eyes and saw that a flurry of activities was ensuing as new patients were taken inside. One patient in particular caught her interest. He had short dark hair and wasn’t much bigger than Pauline, the nurse. From what she could see, he’d received a flesh wound to his shoulder, probably a grazing shot.

Pauline expertly cleaned and bandaged his wound and then sent him to settle at the far end of the room. When he turned around, Lotte held her breath. The man was but a boy and couldn’t be older than ten or eleven. He had a pained expression on his face as he strode over. He wore civilian clothes but had the telltale armband of a Home Army fighter and a huge shoulder bag slung across his shoulder. Soon enough the other patients noticed him and began calling for him.

Lotte couldn’t understand the words, but by the proud grin spreading on his face, it was a compliment. The boy opened his bag and retrieved something that looked like a newspaper. When he came nearer, she could read the words

Biuletyn Informacyjny.

Those insurgents had nerve. Amidst a bloody uprising they started printing and distributing a forbidden newspaper?

She couldn’t dwell for long on the audacity, because the boy looked at her and Lotte was struck by what she saw – glacial blue eyes that seemed awfully familiar.

“

Deutsch?

” he asked her as he settled in the empty space at her side, and when she nodded, he cocked his head and said in perfect German, “Why are you here?”

“Our vehicle got ambushed and I was shot in the arm,” she answered truthfully. “And you?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. I’ve been delivering messages between outposts, when one of the bloody Germans saw me. I dove for cover, but his bullet grazed my shoulder.”

She thought it prudent not to remind him that he was talking to one of the bloody Germans and said, “You’re very brave. What is your name?”

“Mors.”

“I’m Alexandra. You seem so young to be fighting,” she commented softly.

“Twelve this past year. They won’t let us fight, but the messages we transport are equally important,” he said with an air of pride.

“I’m sure they are,” Lotte agreed.

Mors was soon up and interacting with the lightly injured, amongst them many children and adolescents. None of them, not even the severely injured, seemed to have lost their zest for life in the face of the brutal battle that had invaded their existence.

Guilt and shame snaked up her spine. They were children, not soldiers. They shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be shouldering the burden of nurses and messengers. Lotte herself wasn’t much older in birth years, but in life experience, she felt ancient.

Throughout the day, Mors returned to her several times to chat. He was a fine boy and she enjoyed his company, making her forget that she was a prisoner.

“What do your parents think about you being a courier?” she asked.

“My mother is…she died. And I haven’t seen my father in years. Nobody knows where he is.” As he spoke, his eyes clouded over. “My aunt doesn’t like it much, but I told her it’s my duty to fight for my country.”

“I’m so sorry,” Lotte said, her heart aching for him.

“Where is your family?” Mors asked.

Lotte smiled and threw caution to the wind. “My mother is in Berlin. I have two sisters. They are both married, and one just had a baby.”

“And do you have a brother, too?”

“I do. But I don’t know where he is. What about you? Do you have sisters and brothers?”

More wrinkled his nose. “No. I wish I did, but first I have to find my papa.”