War Girls Complete Collection Chapter 231

Chapter 9

R

ichard’s heart shattered as the brutes manhandled him down the street. Out of his peripheral vision, he observed the house where he’d lived, and registered with relief that nobody else followed him outside. The door was closed.

Katrina was safe. As were Barbara and Edmund.

For now.

He’d feared this day, and while he was resigned to his own fate, the look of profound sorrow on Katrina’s face stabbed deep into his soul.

“Move it,” a harsh voice said. Something hard shoved him in the back, causing him to fall to his knees as he lost his balance. Before he could get up, a booted foot landed in his side, forcing the air from his lungs. “Get up, pig.”

Richard struggled to regain his footing under the incessant onslaught of kicks and strikes. He clenched his teeth to keep from screaming with pain and finally managed to get upright. The assault stopped as his attacker turned his attention to another man, who’d stumbled to the ground.

The group of German captives grew bigger as they were forced through the main street of Wroclaw, their captors generously doling out punches and whip lashes. The sidewalks filled with onlookers, cheering on the mob. A group of Russian soldiers stood at the market square. One of the soldiers pointed at the tumult and his comrades turned around. Richard hoped they’d intervene, but that sliver of hope evaporated when one of the soldiers flipped a cigarette stub to the ground and turned his head away.

In that heart-stopping moment, Richard realized he’d be lucky to survive this day.

“Stop!” someone shouted and the group came to a halt. Apparently at random, six of the German captives were picked out and led away. Richard’s eyes widened in horror as he saw their destination. Screaming and kicking, each one of them received a noose around their neck, only to be hauled up to the lamppost lining the market square.

He closed his eyes, but his imagination filled in the images he didn’t see, and bile rose in his throat. Soon enough the rest of the group was forced on, until they arrived at a fenced-in field.

Bruised, bloodied and hurting, Richard dropped to the ground, convinced that his last hour had struck. Something warm ran down his cheek and he touched his face, his finger red from his own blood. Too battered to do anything else, Richard collapsed in the dirt. He lay there, hoping for a quick end to his torment.

But luck wasn’t on his side.

He must have passed out and slept through the night, because a commotion woke him in the wee hours of the morning. Lying in the dirt, stiff from the chilly night and sleeping on the bare ground, he turned his head to see the commotion.

The mob came and delivered new prisoners, each of them a bloodied mess, and left them to their fate. But he soon concluded that was actually a blessing. Throughout the day the Poles came several times to retrieve a group of prisoners, dragging them away, beating, kicking and punching the unfortunate souls. Those who were taken never came back.

Richard would hear their agonizing screams and then nothing. Sometimes he heard a shot. The result was the same.

Deadly silence.

He shuddered.

What have we come to? The war is over, but another is just beginning. We humans are worse than wild animals

. He couldn’t really blame the Poles for their thirst for revenge. They’d suffered under German oppression for six long years. Not for the first time, Richard was disgusted to be a German. Although he hadn’t personally participated in the ferocious crimes, what had he done to stop it? What had the German people as a collective group done to stop it?

Nothing.

So how could he hope for mercy and leniency now?

Yet, he did. He hoped, wished and prayed this killing spree would end. That he could realize a future that included freedom. And plentiful food. And peace of mind.

And Katrina.

The morning moved into afternoon and the sun beat down upon the wounded, replacing the agonizing pain with maddening, insupportable thirst. With every passing minute dehydration and the sense of desperation trickled deeper into Richard’s being.

The only thing that kept him from drowning in misery was the knowledge of Katrina’s safety. She was much better off without him. Barbara and Edmund would take good care of her, he was sure of that.

More and more prisoners arrived at the field. He gathered all his strength to crawl to the farthest corner from the entrance, figuring he’d be safest there from being taken away. By now, he’d concluded that leaving this camp meant certain death. It took the better part of an hour to struggle to his new hiding place. Every movement, every breath resulted in excruciating pain, from the bruises forming on his skin and probably several broken ribs.

Usually, the Poles chose apparently at random from the prisoners nearest to the entrance to take them to their “just punishment”. The men were beaten to death, but the women awaited a different fate. One that became abundantly clear in the lecherous remarks of the guards.

Richard’s mind flashed back to his time with the Wehrmacht in Lodz. The raid on Baluty together with the SS troops. Back then it had been the Polish women who’d suffered this age-old way to break not only the women, but also their men who couldn’t protect them. He shuddered.

That day, he’d met Katrina. At least one beautiful thing had come from all the pain and suffering. A small smile stretched across his dry lips, cracking them. Even if he died today, the fates had blessed him with the most wonderful fifteen months with her.

When the night hit the land, he rolled into a ball, and tried to sleep. But the hunger pangs in his stomach, the unquenchable thirst and his constant worry about what the morrow would bring kept him awake until dawn broke again.