War Girls Complete Collection Chapter 227

Chapter 5

E

arly the next morning Katrina packed their things, unswayed by Richard’s dour face and his incessant attempts to persuade her to change her mind.

“Richard, I have to go. What if they need help?”

“What kind of help can we offer? We have nothing…” He bit on his lip, his jaw tense, and she had to suppress a smile at the amount of self-restraint he exercised not to blow up at her. She could understand him, partly.

It was an outright dangerous, even insane, undertaking to cross the freshly liberated stronghold to find her relatives. But in this ugly war where so many had died, she would feel like a fraud if she didn’t go above and beyond to help a friend who might be in need. For all she knew, their village could have been bombed to the ground during the siege.

“Look. What would you do if it was your family?”

“That’s different…” He didn’t finish his sentence, probably aware that it wasn’t different at all. She might not be close to her mother’s cousin, she might not have seen them in years, but they were still family.

Katrina laid a hand upon his arm. “Please come with me.”

He nodded and minutes later they left the barn, looking back one last time at their temporary home. The road was filled with streams of fugitives leaving the city and others wanting to get inside. She couldn’t wrap her head around the fact that half of the people were fleeing the place while the other half flocked to it. Were they all searching for relatives like she was? Or what did they hope to find in a city that had been besieged and brutally bombed for the past months?

Instinctively she put her hand into Richard’s. She hadn’t wanted to admit it, but fear tugged at every cell in her body. And she wasn’t sure she could have mustered the courage to venture into the den of the lion without him by her side.

As they approached the city walls, the putrid stench in the air made her gag and she almost regretted her decision. Soviet soldiers manned the now open city gates, but the guard on duty gave their papers only a cursory glance.

The information they had gathered over the radio didn’t reflect reality. Things were much worse than Katrina had dared to imagine.

The people milling about appeared to be the living dead: hollow-cheeked, dust-covered automatons. She searched their eyes for a trace of humanity, but only found wild madness or silent resignation.

Her heart pumping against the oppressive atmosphere, she murmured, “How can anyone still live here?”

“The human mind and body can endure much more than we believe,” Richard said. After one glance at the pained expression on his face she knew what he was thinking about. He’d never shared details of his experiences at the Eastern front with her, but she’d held him in her arms through countless nights filled with nightmares.

Putting one foot in front of the other, she frantically racked her brain, trying to remember how to get to her relatives’ village that lay adjacent to the formerly beautiful city. Breslau had been nicknamed “Jewel at the Oder River” for its cultural heritage and splendor, but that was before the insidious war turned it into acres of scorched earth.

What used to be broad streets lined by pompous mansions were now empty fields of rubble, lined by rotting corpses and the ever-present rats and crows feasting on them.

Katrina brought a hand over her mouth, and Richard handed her a kerchief. “Here, breathe through this. It helps.”

Unable to form a coherent thought, she obeyed and pressed the kerchief in front of mouth and nose. Katrina kept her eyes away from the ground, frantically looking for the bridge she knew they had to cross.

Her foot caught in something soft and she tripped, falling forward. Stiff as a poker, a bloodied corpse loomed at her and she opened her mouth for a silent cry. Just before the impact, two strong hands grabbed her shoulders and pulled her up again.

Heaving like a locomotive, her brain filled with torment, she leaned against Richard’s hard chest.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said in a low voice, as if he were afraid to disturb the dead people lying about.

Katrina yearned to close her eyes to the awful scenes but looking away had already made her stumble. If Richard hadn’t saved her, she’d now be lying atop a half-rotten corpse. She cursed her stupid idea of crossing the city. But even in her worst nightmares she’d never have imagined the horrific destruction enveloping the city.

Finally she found the street leading to the Oder. Through the brownish, muddy river water, rubble crested the waves like little boats. On another day, the sight might have coaxed a smile or laugh, but today, she could only gape open-mouthed at the destroyed bridge that had been scantily repaired with wooden planks that looked like doors.

“I’m not going over that,” she said as they reached the river.

“It’s the bridge or return. We can’t stay in the city.”

She took a deep breath and willed away the images of herself falling into the cold water, being dragged away by the treacherous current and joining the piles of corpses. Then she looked at Richard, already heaving himself up onto the rickety bridge and extending his hand to help her up.

Dear goodness, what did I sign up for with my stubbornness?

She grabbed his hand and followed him up on the bridge. The first steps were wobbly, but not too scary with the comforting bank beneath. But at the point where the bridge extended across the swooshing and hissing water, an icy fear trickled down her body, making her knees tremble and her balance shaky. She stuck to the thicker beams and tried to convince herself the dangerous journey involved nothing more than walking on a curbstone, but a slurping sound made her look down at the water. Moments later she saw something bump hard against a pillar nearest to her. A startled shout escaped her throat and she had to pinwheel her arms to regain her balance.

“Come on, it gets better over here,” Richard yelled at her.

She narrowed her eyes at his obvious lie. When she reached him, he stood on the other side of a big, gaping hole in the structure.

“You have to jump.”

“I’m not gonna jump.”

“Come on. You can do this. It’s not that far and I’ll catch you.”

“Yes, and then we’ll both fall into the Oder.”

“At least we’ll sink together. Remember, if we both die, you can blame me.” He grinned at her with that boyish charm she so loved.

What does he think? That this is a child’s game? Jumping from rock to rock, and whoever doesn’t lose their footing wins?

“I don’t plan on dying in the icy waters.”

“Neither do I, and now jump!”

She took one last breath, defied the gurgling water beneath her and… jumped. High in the air, she saw the planks on the other side of the hole coming closer and closer. With exasperation she shoved her arms and legs forward they way she’d seen broad jumpers do it and finally felt Richard’s hands grab her wrists, a split second before her feet hit the wooden planks.

She fell into his arms, cold with fright, but also proud at the accomplished task.

“See, I told you, you could do it.” He grinned at her in such a smug way she forgot all about her fears and cast him a relieved smile. For now, she’d ignore his impertinence, but only because he’d saved her from falling into the cold water.

Conquering the rest of the bridge was a breeze. The scenery on the other side of the Oder wasn’t any different, and she took a few minutes to regain her breath as soon as she stepped on solid ground. Due to her sketchy memory, nothing in the defeated city looked like it had many years ago, but she finally recognized a tall – yet half destroyed – tower that must be the western city gate. Just beyond that gate, a fifteen-minute walk led to her relatives’ village.

If it still existed.

If

they

still existed.

“Over there.” She pointed at the tower and wound her way through streets filled with rubble and human remains.

With a deep sigh she left the destroyed city behind and walked to the adjacent village. The situation wasn’t much better there, either. Soviet troops had trampled back and forth across the land in their quest to conquer the besieged stronghold.

As they arrived at the village, they found the houses still intact, but requisitioned first by the Germans and now by the Red Army. She asked around for her relatives. Richard always kept behind, loitering as if he didn’t belong.

After several vain attempts a kind old woman finally recognized the names of Katrina’s relatives and led them to a disused sewer outlet, where several Polish families had dug out a meager existence.

Katrina swallowed hard at the hostile surroundings, thinking it impossible that such a place could be used as housing. She ventured inside the network of tunnels that lay dry since the sewage system had been destroyed.

An old man stepped up to her, asking with an unfriendly face, “What do you want here?”

“I’m looking for my mother’s cousin, Barbara Adamski. Does she live here?”

The man gave her a suspicious look and said, “Maybe. What do you want?”

“I’m looking for survivors. She’s family,” Katrina insisted.

“He your husband?” the man asked, nodding at Richard, who lingered about fifty feet back.

“No. He’s a cousin from up North.”

“Come. Both of you,” he said and turned, leading them deeper into the labyrinth of tunnels.

Despite the unsavory prior use, the concrete structures were dry and offered shelter from the elements. The sunlight streaming in through the open manholes dimly lit the space and Katrina found it amazing how the families living here had converted the area into homes. Living quarters were separated by makeshift walls of cardboard, paper and wooden planks, equipped with mattresses, candles and even furniture.

“Barbara, there’s someone to see you,” the old man said, stopping at one of the makeshift apartments.

A frail woman in her late forties with her gray hair in a tight bun stood and approached them. “Oh, goodness! Katrina! Is that really you?” She wrapped Katrina into her arms before she glanced at Richard. “And this is?”

“A cousin from my father’s side. His name is Ryszard Blach.”

Barbara raised an eyebrow, seemingly aware of the slight tremble in Katrina’s voice. Thankfully she didn’t express her doubt, and acknowledged him, “Good day, cousin Ryszard.”

Richard mumbled something that sounded like good day and shuffled to the wall.

“I’m sorry, he’s not himself since his family was murdered. He rarely speaks.”

Barbara gave a pensive nod before she smiled at Katrina, asking, “How’s your mother?”

“Dead.” Katrina’s voice was laced thick with emotion. “Father, too. And Jarek. Stan’s been taken prisoner of war and we still haven’t had word about Piotr.”

“Poor girl.” Barbara didn’t dwell on grief. Apparently, she’d had her share of deceased family members, too. “So what brings you into this little hell on earth?”

“Ryszard and I were living with a friend, but her farm became the main battleground and she got killed. We escaped, thinking we might…” Katrina looked around at the dreadful concrete tunnels. “…we might live with you. For a while. But I see how that’s not possible.”

“Of course, it’s possible. Our home was requisitioned years ago and we moved into empty housing inside the city perimeter. Thankfully, my Edmund was wise enough to move us here before the Red Army closed the siege. It’s not much, but you’re welcome to stay with as for as long as you need. This war can’t go on forever, now can it?”

“Thank you so much, Barbara. We appreciate your offer.”

“You’ll have to sleep on the ground, but it’s dry in here and you’re safe from marauding troops and vagrants.”

Katrina looked to Richard, who pressed out a coarse “Thank you.”

“We’ve been hiding in the forest for so long, this will feel like a castle.” Katrina didn’t mention the farmer who’d chased them away because Richard was German. Even though she trusted her relatives, she thought it prudent to keep up appearances and let them believe he was a Pole.

Much later, when everyone was asleep, Katrina and Richard huddled together on a blanket Barbara had given them and whispered into each other’s ears.

“I don’t like this man who brought us here, he smells of trouble,” she said with a slight shiver.

“Your imagination is too vivid. He’s just protective of the families living down here,” Richard said, pressing his big hand on the skin of her back. She relished the feelings he evoked in her body, but with so many people sleeping – and snoring – all around them she couldn’t relax into the feeling.

“Even Barbara is suspicious of you. She doesn’t believe the cousin-from-up-North ruse.”

“How do you know?” His hand insistently worked its way to the swell of her breasts while his lips nibbled on her earlobe.

“I just know. It was the glint in her eyes when I said cousin.” Katrina could barely keep her thoughts together as his fingers drew circles on her naked skin. “Stop. Not here.”

He gave a disappointed growl but obeyed and moved his hand once again to her backside. As if this would help to gather her wits.

“She’s suspicious of your accent, too.”

“I barely talked.”

“Best to keep it that way. Pretend you’re this strange maverick who lost his wits when his family perished.”

Richard whispered into her ear, “I’ll do anything to keep us safe. But I don’t like staying here. This place is a trap with no way out but the main entrance.”

“We’ll figure something out tomorrow.” Katrina yawned and wrapped herself into Richard’s arms. “Now let’s get some sleep.”