War Girls Complete Collection Chapter 240

Chapter 18

R

iding the bicycle fast became Katrina’s second nature. Even sitting perched on the hard crossbar didn’t hurt that much anymore. When the sun shone down on them and there was nobody else in sight, she sometimes started to sing a song.

Once in a while Richard would join her, but usually he’d just hum or whistle the melody. She taught him some of her favorite Polish nursery songs to keep them both entertained on their long days of travel. For their safety, they always kept away from big accumulations of people.

They’d soon found out that the situation in the new Czechoslovakia was even worse than in Poland. The Czechs, who’d been viciously oppressed throughout the war, had gone on a killing frenzy that surpassed what she’d seen in Wroclaw in terms of cruelty, brutality and methodology. All Germans were forced to wear white armbands, making them an easily identifiable target whenever the new masters were baying for blood.

So they kept to themselves, always seeking out the smaller roads, never venturing inside bigger towns, even though this slowed down their progress toward the demarcation line.

Four days after changing their plans they’d used up the last morsel of their food and solely depended on what they could gather along the way, which wasn’t much. Hunger was a constant companion and oftentimes they couldn’t find clean water to drink. But the goal of reaching safety in the American sector propelled them forward, day after day. Pedaling all day, sleeping huddled together at night.

“What do you think, how long until we reach Karlsbad?” she asked.

“Hmm, another three or four days maybe?” he said, skidding to a stop at a fork in the road. One road led to the right, climbing toward the mountains towering above them, the other one to the left, down into the flatlands.

“Which road to take?” he asked.

“The one to the left looks better, but it’s not exactly our direction.” She spotted a tiny village a few hundred yards down. “What if I go and ask?”

“I’ll go with you,” he said.

“No, I’m safer on my own.” She knew he hated letting her go on her own, but she’d have better chances of finding a friendly person without him. Since Polish and Czech were similar languages she could understand about two thirds of what the locals said, if they spoke slowly and clearly. And nobody would mistake her for one of the abhorred Germans. She walked down to the village and saw a group of women scrubbing laundry.

“Excuse me? I got lost. Can you tell me which way to get to Karlsbad?”

“You’re not from around here,” one of the women said, eying her suspiciously.

“I’m from Poland, the Nazis abducted my family and I’m searching for them. Their last known location was Karlsbad.”

“The name’s Karlovy Vary,” an older woman with a sharp nose said.

“I’m sorry, of course that’s the correct name, now that we defeated the Nazi swine,” Katrina said in an attempt to appease the woman.

“You defeated them? Who are you? Joan of Arc?” The woman laughed out loud, apparently seeking a quarrel.

“Not me personally, although I used to have a farm back in Poland, feeding our brave partisans.”

“So why haven’t you stayed on your farm?” a young woman said.

Katrina swallowed down a snide remark and forced a pleasant smile on her face, giving thanks to the fact she’d insisted Richard not come with her. These village women would have eaten him alive. “SS thugs torched my farm and abducted my family. I’m searching for them.”

“Go home, girl. This is no place for a woman on her own. Too many German refugees who can’t be trusted.”

Katrina’s smile froze on her lips.

It’s not the German refugees I’m afraid of.

“Let her go, if she wants. It’s her life,” another woman chimed in, and added, “The shortest way is going up from where you came and turn left. That small road reaches Karlovy Vary via the Ore Mountains. But it’s a treacherous and steep path that’s only passable during the summer months.” She seemed to sense Katrina’s hesitation and said, “Or you could follow this road down to the lowlands. Once you’re in Prague you take a turn west to Karlovy Vary. It’s the longer route, but probably still faster and a lot safer.”

Katrina doubted it was safer for Richard and her in the capital than in the back country, but she politely thanked the women and returned to the place where Richard waited for her.

“Damn,” Richard cursed, after she relayed her information to him, “all fucking roads lead to Prague.”

“And I thought that was Rome,” she said, trying to lighten the mood.

He cast her a dark stare. “We don’t want to go into Prague. You said it yourself. Even these villagers are out for German blood. This whole bloody country is completely out of control.”

While she had to agree with him, she couldn’t help but say, “It’s kinda your own fault. If your country hadn’t assaulted all of Europe, none of this would have happened.”

Richard’s brooding stare became even darker and he mumbled something she couldn’t understand. She let him work out his anger and patiently waited until the mumbling stopped and he scratched his beard. “We’ll take the mountain route.”

Katrina shook her head. “Are you sure? It will be tedious; we might not be able to use the bicycle.”

He kept scratching his beard, until he finally looked up at her. “We’ll try. Pray that we don’t get lost.”

A shudder caught her shoulders. Could they really get lost in the mountains? Surely there were roads to follow. “Do you think there are wolves?”

His face broke into a teasing smile. “I guess so. Wolves, and bears maybe.”

“You’re kidding, right?” She involuntarily took a step backwards, wrapping her arms around herself.

“I’ve never been in the Erzgebirge, but I wouldn’t be surprised if there were. Although they usually don’t attack humans.”

“Usually?” Anxiety sucked the breath out of her lungs and the idea of taking the mountain route became even less appealing.

Richard cast her a reassuring smile. “I prefer a wolf over a horde of bloodthirsty Czech partisans any time of the day.”

Uncertain of the viability of their new plan, she reluctantly climbed on the bicycle. They followed the small trail up into the mountains. Soon it became too steep to pedal and they had to push the bicycle. Sweat dripping down her forehead and her arms, she wished for a cooling swim in a lake. Not that they’d seen any lakes in days. After several hours of climbing, they found the road swallowed by a mud avalanche. As far as she could see, there was only debris.

Richard yelled several German curse words she didn’t understand, the echo from the mountains sending shudders down her spine. He then flopped to the ground, hiding his face in his hands.

She sidled up to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, but we won’t find our way through without a local guide.”

“So we’ll just sit down and wait until one comes along?”

“Ha, very funny.”

Richard looked so miserable, it squeezed her heart. “We’ll have to take the road to Prague then.”

“I guess we must.” He still made no effort to get up and she worried he’d have a breakdown.

She’d been close to a breakdown herself many times during this journey and every time it had been Richard’s calm strength that had brought her back to sanity. But apparently even his positivity had limits. It was time for her to take the lead.

“It might not be that bad. We can both pretend to be Polish slave workers on our way home.” He raised his head, a sliver of hope entering his eyes as he listened to her plan. “The Czechs won’t notice your accent, and we can still understand each other because the languages are so similar.”

“It might work. Two slave workers on their way home. It’s just that we’re traveling in the wrong direction.” He squinted his eyes and she knew he was trying to figure out a solution.

“We can always say we got lost or the road was blocked and we had to retreat and go around,” she suggested.

“Blocked by a mud avalanche you mean?” Finally, he was smiling again.

“That’s the spirit!” Katrina gave a silent sigh, relieved to see his determination return. She had no idea what she’d have done if he had an actual breakdown.

They mounted the bicycle and rushed down the slope, the air stream blowing into their faces. She felt her cheeks heat up with the thrill of the downhill race and forgot about her sorrows – at least for a little while.

The next morning,

they continued their journey toward Prague with the intention of giving the capital as wide a berth as possible. Katrina could already see the city in the distance when they stopped at yet another crossing that gave them the option of going straight into Prague or right to Pilsen.

Pilsen wasn’t their intended destination, but what difference did it make where they crossed the demarcation line into the American sector? Pilsen was as good as Karlsbad in her eyes and if the distance to cover was less, all the better.

“Let’s head for Pilsen,” she said, excitement in her voice, when she noticed another sign a few meters further away that struck terror into her heart and mind.

“Richard, do you see that sign?”

He turned his head and nodded gravely. The sign read:

Warning – To the German Soldier:

Report immediately to the Military Government. If you are caught attempting to escape identification by wearing civilian clothes you may be shot as a spy.

To the German Civilian:

If you have helped stragglers from the German army, in accordance with instructions from the Allies, report them immediately to the Military Government. Any failure on your part to do so is a crime under the laws of Military Government and may be punished by the heaviest penalty.

“We knew that already, although this part here is reassuring,” Richard said, reading out loud the small print at the bottom of the sign, “German soldiers are treated as Prisoners of War in accordance with the Geneva Convention. They will be sent home as soon as possible after the end of the war.”

“Maybe those who’re captured by the Amis, but the Russians will use them to rebuild their infrastructure. We’ve seen endless transports going east,” Katrina said.

“That much is true. I’d rather turn myself in to the Amis… if we ever reach that damn demarcation line.” Richard wasn’t the only one who thought so. They’d met countless stragglers trying to do exactly that. No man – or woman – wanted to end up in Russian captivity. Even though nothing certain was known, the much-touted

Russenschreck

bedeviled the Wehrmacht soldiers.

He pulled out the map and unfolded it. “Assuming we’re right here, it shouldn’t be more than seventy miles.”

“That’s more than we can cover in a day,” Katrina murmured needlessly and mounted the bicycle, as Richard changed their direction and started pedaling once more. But throughout the rest of the day the stark words on the warning sign plagued her. Richard was walking on thin ice and both of them could be found out and punished.

“We’ll be fine. You have to have faith,” he said.

Faith in what?

Her faith had been tested too many times during the war years, but she didn’t utter her doubts and instead said, “I’ll be forever grateful to Edmund and Barbara for giving me the bicycle. Who knows where we’d be now without it.”

“Your relatives most certainly did us a huge favor,” Richard agreed.

Katrina nodded. “Would you like me to pedal for a while?”

“Not right now. Just relax and enjoy the ride while you can.”