War Girls Complete Collection Chapter 247

Chapter 25

R

ichard pressed his forehead against the cool steel of the bars in the cell. His head whirled with confusing thoughts and emotions. After months on the road they’d finally reached the gateway to Germany. It would be a cruel twist of fate to fail literally at the last step into freedom after having survived for so long.

He groaned, his fists curled around the metal bars, images of his time in the prisoners’ camp in Wroclaw coming to his mind. Cold sweat broke out on his back, when he heard steps coming up behind him.

It was Katrina who put a hand on his shoulder and said, “We will be fine. Nothing’s going to happen to us in here.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered in her ear.

“This is not your fault,” she whispered back, putting her arm around his waist. “Come sit with me.”

She led him to the bunk bed, where he flopped down to sit on the scratchy blanket, burying his head in his hands. It was all his fault. He should have left her with her relatives in Wroclaw, instead of dragging her halfway across Europe and exposing her to unknown dangers.

“I should just tell them the truth and let them hand me over to the Russians. You’d be free to go then.”

“Richard, no. Please. You can’t give up hope. Not now.” There was an urgency and desperation in Katrina’s voice he hadn’t heard before. The situation was terrifying her, and it was his fault.

“That is what I deserve. In for a penny, in for a pound. In fact, I should receive double punishment, for being a Wehrmacht soldier, and a deserter. Why should I expect mercy when my comrades don’t get it either?”

“You had a reason to desert. You didn’t want to participate in closing the Ghetto in Lodz and sending tens of thousands of Jews to their sure deaths.”

“It doesn’t matter. I didn’t even try to free them. I should be punished.” He slumped against the concrete wall, bitter tears of guilt forming in his eyes, before he blinked them away and stubbornly said, “I’m not going to lie my way into freedom. I’m done with hiding and deceiving.”

“No.” Her eyes widened in horror. “You have to stick to our story.”

“They don’t even believe our story. Why else do you think they put us in here?” He growled his frustration to the cold cement walls.

“What shall I do without you? How would I ever find you again?” Her voice took on a desperate tone. On any other occasion her begging eyes would have broken his heart, unraveled his resolve, but right now his own guilt, shame and desperation trumped her distress.

“You go to Aunt Lydia’s place. She’ll take you in.”

“Richard, please don’t talk like that. The only reason I ended up here in the first place is because I want to be with you.”

“And you will, in a few months from now, maybe a year.” He paused, rubbing a hand across his unkempt beard. “I really think the right thing to do is for me to tell them the truth.”

“I’m with child.”

Richard opened his mouth to speak and then closed it. “What?” he said, sure he’d heard her wrong. “You are pregnant?”

“Yes. I wasn’t going to tell you until we reached your aunt’s place…”

“But wh…?” He didn’t need to ask why she’d kept the news hidden. He would have gone crazy with sorrow for her and the child. The thought alone of all the hardships they’d endured during their journey sent icy shivers down his spine. Some kind of man he was, letting his pregnant woman walk across enemy lands, without food or shelter.

“Are you sure?” he asked, turning so that he could see her face.

“Very sure. I’m about three months along.”

Richard stared at her, the shock about her revelation sinking deeper into his brain. Panic surged in him. This was the absolute worst timing, bringing a child into this chaotic world and to parents who had no home, no possessions, not even a country that wanted them.

“I don’t even know what to say,” he said.

“Say you’ll do everything you can to stay with me. Don’t give up.”

Richard hugged her close, his mind whirling. She fell asleep in his arms after a while and he took the time to study her beautiful face. No doubt he loved her with all his heart, but he didn’t want to become a father just yet. It wasn’t fair to bring a baby into this world where there wasn’t enough to eat, they never knew where they were going to sleep each night, and most of the people they encountered wanted to kill either him or Katrina.

He had nothing to offer his future family, no money, no job, not even his name. The poor child would be born out of wedlock with a father who was a wanted man, facing imprisonment for God only knew how long.

Over the course of the night, he thought back to happier times, before the war, and his own family. They’d been happy, his sisters and his parents. They had a home and went to school. As a child he’d played with friends. That was what he wanted for his child. He wanted to be a good provider for Katrina and make sure that his child had what it needed to be healthy and strong

In the wee hours of the morning, he realized the only hope his child had of ever having that idyllic life was if Richard made sure that he and Katrina found his family. With their help, they could start rebuilding their lives, paving a future for their child.

He wouldn’t be of any use languishing in a Russian camp. Or dead. As the sun rose and Katrina stirred awake, he resolved to do whatever it took to stay with her. He would not abandon her or his baby.

“I love you both,” he said with a smile and pressed his hand on her belly.

Katrina slowly came awake,

her body aching despite the unfamiliar soft mattress. But when she felt Richard’s hand on her stomach, she sighed in relief.

“Good morning.” She looked up him with a soft smile.

“Good morning, sweetheart. How are you feeling?”

Katrina shrugged. “Like I’m locked up in a prison cell.”

“I’m so sorry…”

“Hush. I was trying to make a joke. I’m fine.” She paused and then added, “I’m sorry you had to find out about the baby like this. I wanted to tell you once we were safe at your aunt’s place.”

“Afraid I’d go nuts?” he asked, his eyes full of love.

“Partly. I knew you’d be worried sick about me. This isn’t the best time to have a baby.”

“No, it’s not. But we’ll manage somehow. First, we need to get into the American sector, though.”

Katrina looked around at the concrete cell and the metal bars for a door. They were at their absolute lowest, owning nothing more than the clothes they were currently wearing.

She heard a screeching door and footfalls, and moments later a young American soldier, probably Richard’s age, stood at the door, handing them breakfast.

“Thank you.” She sniffed at the steaming mush that seemed to be some kind of porridge. “I haven’t had a hot meal in months.”

The young man looked at her with a slightly unbelieving gaze before leaving, but she couldn’t care less and emptied the contents of the bowl in record time.

“Oh my, this is like heaven on earth.” Richard stuffed the white substance hungrily into his mouth, but after glancing at her empty bowl, he spooned some of his food into hers.

“Aren’t you hungry?”

“You need it more. And don’t argue with me.”

She was too famished to protest and ate the rest of his portion as well, but decided not to succumb the next time. He was a big man and needed more food than she did, even though she was eating for two.

“Why are they feeding their prisoners so well?” she asked after finishing every last morsel.

“Maybe this is how the Americans treat their prisoners?”

“Maybe.” She smiled. Having food in her belly certainly made the future look brighter. Even from a concrete prison cell.

Several minutes later the same young GI arrived and said, “Come with me.”

Katrina and Richard exited the cell and followed the man to another hallway.

“In here,” the young man told Richard and then led Katrina further down the hallway to another room.

Goosebumps appeared on her arms as the anxiety of being separated from Richard took hold of her. She had no experience dealing with the Amis, but if they were anything like the Russians, she’d rather not be alone in a room with one of them.

She scanned the hallway for an exit door to dash through, but at the same moment she found one that presumably led outside, she scoffed at her own stupidity.

Shot on the run, that’s what will happen to you

. Instinctively she pressed a hand to her belly and took a deep breath. Whatever waited for her behind the door that the young man held open for her, she’d face it with grace.

It couldn’t be worse than the mortal fear she’d felt when looking up at the noose waiting for her neck. Even now she shivered with the memory.

“Please. What is happening?” she asked.

“A special interrogator will be in to talk to you shortly.”

She nodded and walked into the room, taking a seat in the solitary chair at the table. Two additional chairs were in the room but sitting against the opposing wall. She tried not to let her imagination run away with her, but despite her best efforts, the rising fear almost choked her.

After a long wait, an older soldier with black hair and a prominent nose, wearing three rockers on his uniform, entered the room and shut the door. Katrina surged to her feet, but he waved her back down. “Stay seated. I’m Sergeant Raymond.”

For a moment she hesitated but decided to stay with the name she’d given yesterday and said, “Katharina Klausen.” Then she waited while he pulled a chair over to the table and opened up a file he’d been holding in his hands.

“I’ve been informed you speak English, Frau Klausen?” he said in surprisingly perfect German, devoid of any accent.

“Yes, sir,” she said, folding her hands to hide the slight tremble, not sure what he wanted to hear and which language she should use.

“But I assume your German is better, right?”

Relief flooded her system, before she realized that this could be a trap. Wracking her brain about the best approach she finally answered in German. “Yes, sir. I was born and raised in Lodz by German parents and thus I’m fluent in both Polish and German. I learned English at school.” She didn’t mention that like most Poles growing up in that area she also had a modest command of Russian and other Slavic languages.

“Good, good. So, I understand you don’t have any papers?” Sergeant Raymond scrutinized her with his dark brown eyes that seemed to be able to see right into her hidden thoughts.

“No. We were robbed two nights ago while waiting to cross the border. The bandits took everything, including the little food we had left and our identification.” She tried to look distraught, but honest, even as her Polish papers burnt hot holes into the skin of her breasts.

“Where’s your home country?”

“Poland,” she said without thinking. Only when she saw the glint of satisfaction in his eyes did she notice how she’d tripped up.

“Why do you want to go to the American sector then?”

“Because… as much as I would like to, we couldn’t stay there.” Her skin crawled at the memory of the things she’d witnessed in Wroclaw. “The Polish are on a brutal rampage against anyone German. We wouldn’t have stayed alive a single day if we hadn’t left.” She looked at the sergeant sitting opposite her. He must know about these things.

“Don’t you think you deserve this treatment, after everything Hitler did?”

This time she caught herself before spouting out that her country had been the first victim of Hitler and she definitely didn’t deserve any more cruelty after six years of dire oppression.

“Personally, I never hurt anyone, but you are right, the German nation as a whole shares the responsibility.”

“So you never were a party member?”

“No.” She almost giggled at the notion of a Slavic

Untermensch

being a party member. If only Sergeant Raymond knew the truth… but then he’d send her right back to Poland. The Amis dealt with enough displaced persons; they sent everyone back who wasn’t German.

“And like all the Germans you never were a Nazi supporter either and didn’t vote for Hitler?”

At least this time she could tell the truth. “I was much too young to vote before the war.”

“So where are you headed?” he asked, scribbling notes onto the file in front of him.

“My husband has family near Munich. They have a farm and are always in need of hands.”

“Ah,” Sergeant Raymond nodded as if he finally understood. “Tell me about your husband. When was he discharged from the Wehrmacht?”

“He… was called two times but both times they deemed him unfit because of his asthma. So he never joined.”

The American made a face and jotted a note down in the file. “Asthma. That’s a new one. Do you really want to make me believe the army that conscripted fifteen-year-old boys and half-lame ancients wouldn’t draft an otherwise healthy man with asthma?”

“Maybe our farm was just too far in the hinterland?” She heard herself speak and noticed how ridiculous she sounded. Sergeant Raymond wouldn’t believe a single word she told him.

“Okay, then.” He stood up, taking the file with him. “Someone else will be in to see you shortly.”

Katrina watched him leave, wondering what the next person would want. As far as interrogations went, this one had been civilized. Not exactly friendly, but not unfriendly either.

Another soldier entered a few minutes later, asking more or less the same questions.

“How did you come to be in Czechoslovakia?”

“We fled from Poland and since the Russians had closed the border at Görlitz indefinitely and there was no way to get to Berlin, we decided to take the longer route through Czechoslovakia to try and find my husband’s aunt near Munich.” She got tired answering the same questions over and over again and added, “I wish we hadn’t.”

“Why do you say this?”

“Because then we would still have papers and I wouldn’t have to try and convince you that I’m telling the truth.”

“Well, you can always go back.”

She jerked in her chair, looking at him as if he were the devil incarnate. “Never! Do you really expect me to cross this damned nation again, where everyone we met has wanted to rob, rape, torture or kill us?”

“Come on. I believe you’re not even Richard Klausen’s wife, but a random woman who’s been paid by him to get him across the border with your little ruse. The robbery obviously is an invention, as is the awful treatment you supposedly endured.” The man leaned back in his chair, his bright blue eyes blinking with delight.

She knew she shouldn’t get furious, but his presumptuous behavior caused a switch to click in her brain and she forgot all about prudence.

“You think I’m making this up? You think Richard cut his own throat? You also think I did this to myself?” she yelled, raising her hand to the scarf on her head and tearing it off, her knees trembling with fury.

Shock entered the gaze of the soldier, but he quickly schooled his expression and said, “So, this part of your story might actually be true.” He glanced at his wristwatch and left the room with the words, “Time for lunch. I’ll have someone bring you your food.”

The young soldier who’d brought them breakfast in the morning poked his head inside and put a plate with two slices of bread, butter and some cheese in front of her, along with a glass of water.

“Thank you.” She gave him a grateful smile, but he averted his eyes and fled the room. Only then did she remember that her bald head was exposed and he’d probably glanced away in horror.

She tied the scarf again around her head, hiding the ugly tufts of hair and bloody scratches. Then she settled in her chair, trying not to fret. An hour went by before Sergeant Raymond, the first person who’d questioned her, returned. He asked the same questions as before. Her name. Why she was in Czechoslovakia. Where she was going.

She was tired, and sticking to her story without getting tangled up in her net of lies became more difficult as the day went on.

“Please. Let us cross the border.”

“Frau Klausen, if that is your real name, may I give you some advice?” He seemed nice enough and she didn’t care what he said or did, if he’d just let her go.

“Yes, please.”

“We believe your alleged husband is in fact a member of the SS.”

“No he’s not—“

Sergeant Raymond held up his hand to interrupt her. “What I’m saying is, that by protecting him, you’re only making yourself an accomplice. We don’t have any interest in keeping you here and I’ll personally see that you receive the proper paperwork to travel freely in the American sector as soon as you tell us the truth about this man… but we will hand you over to the Czechs should you refuse to cooperate with us.”

Dizziness attacked her and bile rose in her throat as she considered his words. The sergeant seemed to be a reasonable man, but looking at the determination in his face, she knew he wouldn’t budge. He really meant to hand her over to the Czechs. Which he must know would be her certain death. Normally, she wouldn’t succumb to blackmail, but it wasn’t just her life that hung in the balance now. She had a baby to think about.

“What happens to Richard if I tell you what you want to know?” she asked with a feeble voice.

“That depends. If we can prove he’s actually SS, he’ll be tried and hanged. If he’s a mere foot soldier we’ll hand him over to the Russians and he’ll be a prisoner of war. But that shouldn’t concern you. You have to think about your own life right now.”

She sighed. “Mine and that of the baby I’m carrying.”

Raymond’s brow shot up, but he didn’t say a word.

“My real name is Katrina Zdanek and I’m a Pole.” She fumbled in her brassiere and produced her papers that she handed her interrogator.

“Continue,” he said, giving them only a cursory glance, apparently not too interested in the nationality of a female refugee.

“Richard is the father of my baby. We’re not actually married, because he’s a Wehrmacht deserter. I hid him on my farm, provided him with false papers and we hoped to live there happily ever after, once the war was over. But things turned out differently and we had to flee.”

“Start from the very beginning,” he said, suddenly very interested, when she stopped talking.

So she recounted the entire story from the day she’d found him tied to his comrade, waiting to be hanged, until the moment they’d arrived at the American checkpoint the day before.

Once she’d finished her story, he gazed at her for a long time, before he said, “This story is even more ridiculous than the one you told me before, but I believe it’s true. Once I have corroborated the facts, you’re free to leave.”

“Thank you,” she said, feeling like a traitor.

What have I done?