War Girls Complete Collection Chapter 238

Chapter 16

K

atrina gazed at Richard’s sleeping face. The pained grimace relaxed into an angelic expression as he drifted into a deep, and hopefully healing, sleep. She knew that he was doing his best to hide his injuries from her, so as not to worry her.

But she

was

worried, very much so. She’d seen the awful wounds and bruises on his back and guessed that at least some of his ribs were broken. She gave herself time to relax and leaned against the trunk, alone with her thoughts, waiting for the refugees to pass by.

Had she made the right decision by going with him? Should she have stayed? Returned to her parents’ farm? Her heart grew weary with nostalgia, but one glance at Richard’s face told her that wherever he was, that’s where she wanted to be.

When the crowd had finally passed and disappeared behind a bend downstream, she got up, grabbed the water bottle and her shawl, and went to fetch water. On her way back, she trudged carefully through the meadow, searching for plants she could use for food or medicine. Dandelions and stinging nettle grew in abundance, and she filled her shawl with the leaves but still looked for something she could use to ease Richard’s pain.

Keeping her eyes peeled upon the ground, she finally found something useful. A bunch of small, bright red blossoms atop a single stem. A subspecies of the Carthusian Pink – Dianthus carthusianorum. It was a staple in many monastery gardens because of its powerful pain-relieving properties. She picked a few of the plants, making sure they looked clean. At home she would have made an unguent, but now, a simple poultice would have to do.

She returned to find Richard completely passed out, and carefully unbuttoned his shirt. The ghastly sight of black-blue bruises and encrusted wounds brought tears to her eyes and she woke him up to get to work.

Richard remained half-asleep but obeyed her commands and followed her directions. She took off his shirt and placed her shawl beneath him. Rubbing one of the plants lightly between her fingers to break the skin and set the ingredients free, she placed it on the shawl.

“Lie down again,” she said and helped him ease his back onto the makeshift bandage. Then she proceeded to distribute more Carthusian Pink across his ribs and abdomen with Richard already fast asleep. She wrapped the shawl around him, securing it tightly to keep the poultice in place. Since it was still warm out she didn’t bother to put on his shirt or jacket and left that for later at night when the chill from the river would creep up to the meadows.

Katrina decided to get some sleep herself as well after planning to continue their journey with the first light of dawn. She huddled down at his side and soon fell into a light sleep, her ears pricking up to any sign of danger. But nothing happened, except for other groups of refugees trekking by.

At the crack of dawn, Richard woke her with mock indignation on his face. “Admit it! You used me as guinea pig for your herbal medicine again.”

Katrina giggled, relieved that he was in the mood to joke again. “Did it help?”

“How should I know? What was the purpose of your magic?” he said, a huge grin spreading from ear to ear.

“To ease the pain.”

“Well, then it helped.” He kissed her. “Thank you. Do you have something to ease my hunger, too?”

“In fact, I do.” She pointed at the wilting dandelion and stinging nettle leaves beside the backpack.

“Ugh. What about a freshly roasted rabbit?”

“Sorry, no such thing. But you can have a slice of bread.”

They ate the ration she distributed for each of them and despite Richard’s hungry gaze at the food hidden inside the bag, he didn’t complain and ask for more, but ate the green leaves with utter fearlessness.

As soon as they finished their morning meal, he stood and pushed the bicycle back to the road and invited her with a grand gesture. “Hop on, milady, we have an appointment to keep.”

The road became increasingly damaged and every now and then the tires of the bicycle lost pressure and they had to climb down and use the hand pump clipped to the frame to pump up the tube.

Katrina welcomed the respites from sitting on the hard and uncomfortable crossbar, but she never once complained. The faster they reached the border, the better and safer they would be.

The farms and villages along the winding road were in a desolate condition and appeared as if the inhabitants had left long ago. Several hours upstream, they came up behind a slow-moving group. Initially, Katrina thought of overtaking them, but as they crested a small rise, the road leading to a lone ferry moving across the river unfolded in front of her eyes.

The road was packed with people, animals, and vehicles all the way down to the bank. Climbing from the bicycle, they walked to the end of the queue, watching as passengers poured from the ferry on the opposite bank, before it made a return trip, loading more refugees on its deck and heading across the river once again.

“That’ll take us a while,” she said, as they progressed slowly down the crest. She estimated the ferry to be three to four miles away.

“A while is good. We’ll spend this night and maybe the next,” Richard said.

He was right, of course. The ferry was excruciatingly slow and could only take so many people with each trip. Even if it didn’t stop at night, they were in for a long, long wait.

Katrina suddenly felt extremely vulnerable in such a large group and she whispered, “I hope my countrymen don’t decide to round us up here.”

Richard put his arm around her shoulders. “They’re probably glad we’re showing them our heels and leaving their country. Why would they want to keep us from leaving?”

“Let’s hope so, by goodness!”

As night fell, and the ferry stopped operations, everyone settled along the road to get some sleep. Despite her protests, Richard chatted to a large family.

When he returned to her side, he said, “It seems everyone here is headed to Görlitz. It’s the only place to cross the Neisse River, far and wide. But rumor has it, there are too many refugees already and they can’t cope with the constant influx of more people. The border closes for days on end, and apparently the border patrol are sending people back who don’t have relatives in the Russian-occupied zone.”

“What will we do?” Katrina asked.

“For now, continue with our plan. The rumors might not be true. And since Berlin lies in the Russian zone, I do have relatives there and they should let us pass through.”

“If the border is open…”

“It’s too early to worry now. Whatever we do, we need to head west. If Görlitz is closed, we’ll find another place to cross the border.”

An uneasy feeling took hold of her stomach, but she didn’t dare voice her concern aloud. She leaned against him with a sigh, wishing she had his positive outlook on the world and could turn off her incessant worrying by taking things one step at a time. In contrast to his approach she’d already strategized twelve steps ahead and panicked over all the problems that could – and surely would – arise.

For one, he was a wanted man. A deserter without papers to prove otherwise. Richard might believe in miracles, but she couldn’t fathom how the Russians would let him get away. She’d seen the signs hanging in Wroclaw that warned anyone hiding a Wehrmacht deserter.

“You worry too much, my love,” he whispered into her ear, his hands rubbing her neck and shoulders, massaging the knots of anxiety away.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t keep going further to see if there is another bridge?” Katrina asked later when they lay together along the roadside and studied the sheet Richard had torn from the atlas.

“No. A few miles downstream the Oder turns north and we need to go west. And haven’t you seen the crowds pouring in from the other direction? If there was a bridge they would have used it.”

“You’re probably right.” She snuggled against him, following his finger on the map. “Once we are on the other riverbank, it’s less than seventy miles. And according to this map, there is, or at least used to be, a main road. If the road’s in good condition, we might make it to Görlitz in two days.”

“Or we might be in a traffic jam with all these people going the same way, unable to pass them by.”

“Let’s worry about that when we have crossed the river,” Richard said and folded the map into his chest pocket. Then he pressed her against his chest. “Let’s get some sleep.”

Despite her best intentions to stop worrying, she lay there in the dirt, looking up at the stars in the sky. Richard lay on his side presenting her his backside, while he held on tight to the bicycle. She listened to his even breathing and snuggled tighter against him to keep herself warm.

Several yards away a baby cried, someone cursed, a couple of people whispered, another person got up to pee… It was anything but quiet this night. Still, she managed to fall into a light slumber, using the rucksack with all their possessions as a pillow, the strap secured to her arm.

The cry of the baby turned into an incessant, ear-piercing wail, louder than an air raid siren. After a while she couldn’t stand it anymore and walked over to the mother of the baby, who was rocking the little bundle back and forth, desperately trying to stop the screaming.

“Is the child sick?” Katrina asked.

“He’s having a fever and something’s paining him.” The young woman gave her a helpless look.

“Can I see him, please?” Katrina touched the baby’s forehead, finding it was burning up. His little cheeks were dark red, but at least his wailing decreased when she massaged his legs. “An infection, maybe a cold accompanied by joint pains. Unfortunately there’s not much I can do, but we need to break the fever. Do you have a piece of cloth and water?”

The young woman nodded, pointing at a small girl sleeping crouched on the ground, her head resting on a pillow. Katrina carefully moved the girl and took the pillow that was stuffed with the family’s clothing. She grabbed a kerchief and drenched it in cold water, wrapping it around the baby’s left leg.

“Change it every couple of hours until the fever breaks. And,” she retrieved the remaining leaves of Carthusian Pink from her rucksack, showing the woman what to do while she explained, ”rub one leaf between your fingers like this. And then let your son suck at your finger. The oil will alleviate the pain and let him sleep.”

“Thank you so much.” The young woman was near to tears. “How can I ever pay you back for your kindness?”

Katrina smiled and said. “Show kindness to someone in need when you have the opportunity.” Then she returned to Richard’s side and finally fell asleep herself.

Late the next afternoon it was finally their turn to board the ferry. Katrina quietly listened to the gossip running wild. It seemed that the end of the war had set in motion an emigration of entire nations.

Three men, Churchill, Stalin and Roosevelt, had decided upon the fate of millions by a scratch of a pen. Vast lands in Poland’s East now belonged to Russia, the Polish natives expelled to settle in the newly acquired regions in the west that formerly belonged to Germany, expelling the Germans from their homelands.

Where would all these homeless people go? Her fellow passengers jockeyed for superiority, representing outrageous numbers of displaced persons on the move, ranging from five to twenty million. It was such a vast number; she couldn’t even fathom the sheer mass of people. But having seen the mass persecution and the hordes of fugitives, there was no doubt half of Europe was on the move.