War Girls Complete Collection Chapter 242

Chapter 20

O

ver the course of the next few days they walked and walked.

And walked.

Sometimes they would come across some Wehrmacht stragglers, headed in the same direction, but they never joined one of those groups for longer than a few minutes of exchanging information.

At night, they slept cuddled next to one another, exhaustion and fear swallowing the need for words. Despite the oppressive heat in the early summer nights, Katrina snuggled as tight against Richard as possible, listening to his heartbeat and falling asleep with the confidence that he loved her no matter what.

She never once regretted her decision to leave Poland behind, because she couldn’t fathom a life without the man she loved by her side.

With him, she was sure, she’d feel at home anywhere. The only thing she wished for was a roof above her head and freedom. And no longer being oppressed by the Nazis or persecuted by those who hated them. She rubbed her hand across her abdomen with a smile. As soon as they reached his aunt’s farm she’d tell him about the sweet secret she carried beneath her heart.

In the morning she was awakened by a chirping sound and opened her eyes to find a couple of birds sitting on a tree nearby. Sunlight filtered through the trees and the air smelled of summer, innocence and hope.

She leaned over to wake Richard with a kiss but found his eyes already open. He caught her around the waist and rolled them over, coming to lie atop of her.

“Hey, you’re getting me all dirty,” she protested.

“As if you could get any dirtier than you already are.” He chuckled and proceeded to trail kisses down her neck.

As much as she liked his caresses, she pushed him away. “You seem to have forgotten that we are in flight. We need to get on the road.”

He pouted and rolled off of her, but made no attempt to get up.

“Come on. Contrary to popular belief this is not a summer vacation,” she said.

“It could be. If only my companion would impose a slightly less stringent regime.”

She sighed in mock exasperation. “At least one of us has to stay strong. We can make all the love you want once we’re safe on the other side of the border.”

“Now, that is a promise I won’t forget.” He laughed and made to get up, but not before pressing another heated kiss on her lips.

Katrina shook her head at his antics, but she did so with a smile. Then she ventured deeper into the forest to take care of business. On her way back she heard a gurgling sound and followed its direction. Several dozen yards away she came across a creek with brilliant clear water and bent down to drink her fill before she called out, “Richard, come here!”

Without waiting for him, she stepped out of her skirt and blouse to wash up after so many days of walking covered in sweat and grime. She was standing only in her undergarments when he showed up.

“A forest nymph. What a nice surprise. Does that mean you have changed your mind about having sex?” A broad grin spread across his face.

She splashed him with some of the cool water. “No, you wicked man. Now come here, and wash off your dirt.”

“My body may be cleansed, but my mind will always entertain dirty thoughts when you’re around.” He grinned some more, grabbed her with both arms and pressed her against his chest.

Giggling, she struggled to free herself and they both fell into the calf-deep water. It was chilly, but a wonderful refreshment after another night that didn’t seem to cool down.

“Now see what you’ve done,” she said as she looked down on her soaked undergarments.

“And here I thought you wanted to wash up.” He put an arm beneath her head and captured her mouth in a passionate kiss, while his free hand ventured beneath her camisole.

She was lying in the cool creek, gurgling water rushing past her body and Richard’s expert hands awakening the flames of passion in her.

What the heck

, she thought. Who cared whether they hit the road half an hour later? She softened her resolve and let her body melt against his.

He didn’t need more of an invitation to divest her of her remaining undergarments and make sweet love to her.

Later, she scrubbed their clothes in the clear water, and then Richard wrung them out. The morning air hung warm between the trees, and the sun in the cloudless sky above them promised another scorching day.

“Isn’t it an amazing feeling to be clean again?” she said, stepping into her wet clothes.

“It definitely is. I’d already forgotten how light my skin is when it’s not caked in grime.” Richard grimaced as he stepped into his squeaking trousers. “Although I could do without the wet pants.”

“They’ll dry soon enough. Now let’s get going. We have a few dozen more miles to go.” Katrina filled the water bottle one last time and handed him the rucksack.

“You don’t think there’s something to eat in there?” he asked with a hopeful glance.

“I’m afraid not. I’ve turned it inside out several times by now and haven’t found anything remotely edible.”

His disappointed expression stabbed her heart. How she wished she could conjure up a loaf of bread or a rabbit to roast.

In the afternoon they came upon on a slower-moving bunch of German refugees. In contrast to the scattered groups of young males, this group definitely consisted of civilians. Ancient men, women of all ages and children. They were pushing and shoving their belongings on bicycles, wheelbarrows, and prams. Anything with wheels.

“Don’t you think we should join this group?” Katrina asked, still reeling from their encounter with the Russian soldiers several days ago.

“We’d only make ourselves a target. With just the two of us we have a better chance of going undiscovered by the Czechs,” he said.

“I know. But we should arrive in Pilsen by tomorrow and in a big group like this, you wouldn’t stick out so much. We’d have a much better chance of getting across the border with a big group of refugees than on our own.”

He bit on his lip and she could read his thoughts. “We can still find a group to join near the border.”

“What if there isn’t one? Lingering about the border will only draw attention to us.” Truth be told, she hated the thought of joining one of the groups, because if caught by partisans with a group, they couldn’t pretend to be Poles. That would only make things worse. But on the other hand, if the Americans suspected Richard was a Wehrmacht straggler, they’d send him back to the Russians. And God only knew what would happen to her.

His face clearly showed the various emotions fighting for dominance, until he said, “Alright, we’ll join them, but at the first sign of trouble we break away.”

Katrina sighed. When would this nightmare end? Would she ever be able to walk down a street without looking back over her shoulder?

They walked another day with the group of refugees, getting friendly with them, pretending to be Germans who’d been forced to flee their hometown Breslau, now called Wroclaw. The people on the trek were Sudeten, folks that had lived in this area many centuries, cultivating their German heritage, but had been tossed from one nation to another by the whims of fate since the beginning of this century.

After the last World War the government of the new multi-ethnic state of Czechoslovakia had done its best to make the Germans feel unwelcome and even persecuted in the new country. This, in turn, had led to the annexation of the Sudetenland into the German Reich in 1938, condoned by England and France in the Munich Agreement. The Germans had gained the upper hand and treated the Czechs with the same cruelty and disdain they’d experienced from the Czechs throughout the two decades before.

Katrina shook her head. When would people learn to coexist in peace instead of hate and fear of everyone who spoke a different language, followed a different God or religion, or looked different?

Now that Germany was a dying country, experiencing the last twitches before its inevitable demise, these refugees who had been expelled from their homes feared that they’d never return. Neither dead nor alive. Once more the old quarrel between Germans and Czechs flared up, with even more cruelty than ever before.

She ducked her head between her shoulders, her gaze piercing the earth in front of her feet. She didn’t belong. Not with the refugees, not with those who expelled them. She was a foreign object, swept to this location by the tides of war – and love.

Her only reason to be here stood beside her. Her hand searched for his, wanting to feel the safety of his physical presence, to feel that he wouldn’t leave her alone.

“An American flag!” someone yelled, and the exhausted group stopped for a moment to look. Nobody cheered, probably because they didn’t have any energy left.

According to Richard’s calculations they were still more than a dozen miles away from Pilsen, but some of the older youths, who had been sent ahead as scouts, soon returned and explained the situation.

“The actual demarcation line is in the small town of Rokycany, while the first town entirely in the American sector is Pilsen,” a girl of about fourteen years explained. “It’s just across the river, but the bridge is only open during the day from eight to six.”

“We’ll find a place to settle for the night and line up for the crossing first thing in the morning,” the leader of the group decided after eyeing the position of the sun in the sky.

Richard squeezed Katrina’s hand and whispered into her ear, “We have arrived.”

“Yes, my dear,” she said, not wanting to put a damper on his good mood. Although they could see the American lines, they were far from having arrived. The Soviets and the Americans had made an agreement stipulating that all German soldiers found west of the American stop line by one minute after midnight on May 9 would become American prisoners and those found east of that line would be Soviet prisoners.

The part of the agreement that concerned her most was that any German soldier caught infiltrating American lines after that deadline would be turned over to the Soviets. They’d heard of men who’d gotten as far into the Reich as Regensburg, one hundred miles behind the stop line, and had been returned to the Russian sector.

Along the main roads several roadblocks had been set up to stem the tide of surrendering Wehrmacht soldiers and prevent them from sneaking through American lines. Richard only stood a chance if they could make the border patrol believe that he was indeed a civilian.

It didn’t take long until the trek stopped again and the leader decided to camp at the bank of a tiny lake just outside Rokycany. This was just fine with Katrina, as she was tired to the bone, her stomach a huge gnawing hole. At least she could fill it with water and then fall into a death-like sleep.

“Come here,” Richard whispered and patted the place on the ground next to him. She dropped down and was fast asleep even as he wrapped his arm around her.