War Girls Complete Collection Chapter 269

Chapter 16

T

hey slept through the day, taking turns standing guard, and started their walk toward the border again in the late evening. It was a slow process through the fields, because they could barely see a few yards ahead and stumbled along like drunken sailors.

“It’s no use. If we continue at this pace, we won’t reach the border before winter returns.” Gerlinde said.

“It’s June. Winter is at least four months away.”

Gerlinde fell into a ditch she hadn’t seen along the field and stretched out her hand for Lotte to help her out again. “See? We need to return to the road.”

Lotte shook her head. “But then we can only walk under the cover of night and that will give us just a few hours each night.”

“There are so many people on the roads, will it really matter if we walk during the day?” Gerlinde suggested. “I think it will be safer; besides, the extra hours will get us home faster.”

“You have a point. But apart from looking the same as any other dirty, wretched individual, we’re still in uniform.”

“Oh, right. But… we need to cover more ground.”

“Let’s walk in the early morning and late evening. People still need to sleep during that time, even when it’s not dark outside.” Lotte scrunched up her nose, thinking.

“We really need to get civvies.”

“And how exactly should we go about it? We can’t very well walk into a shop and tell them we need to shed our uniforms.”

“We could… organize them…?”

“Organize?” Lotte’s jaw gaped open. “You gave me a dressing-down for stealing food from the garrison kitchen and now you suggest we go thieving clothes.”

Gerlinde’s face flushed red. “We could leave some money.”

“What a grand idea! We’ll leave a note with a couple of Reichsmark thanking the owner for their help.”

“I thought…”

Lotte felt bad seeing the embarrassed expression on her friend’s face and patted her arm. “It actually is a good idea, although I doubt the Danes will appreciate our Reichsmarks. I’ve heard the new favored currency is British pounds.”

“…Or cigarettes. You don’t have one, by chance?”

“No, my dear, not one.” Smoking women were frowned upon in Nazi Germany and therefore the Blitzmädel didn’t receive army provisions of cigarettes like the men did. Before today this had never posed a problem for Gerlinde, who only needed to flutter her eyelashes to get one.

“I could really use a fag.” Gerlinde sighed, her eyes becoming dreamy. “You should try it one day. It suppresses your appetite, makes you more alert and keeps the chill out of your bones.”

“You should work for Reemtsma, praising the health benefits of their ciggies,” Lotte giggled.

“Believe me, I would. Being a poster girl smiling down from an advertising column can’t be all that bad.”

Lotte all but toppled over in a fit of giggles. “Stop. Right now.”

“Why?” Gerlinde joined her laughter and together they enjoyed a few minutes of uninhibited silly recklessness, before they sobered up to reality.

“We better continue walking; we still have a long way to the border.”

And they walked trance-like along the road south, every step taking them closer to Germany.

One painful step after another.

Lotte had stopped talking, thinking, caring. She simply moved her feet, focused on ignoring the soreness between her legs that increased with every aching step she took.

At the end of the night, they ventured away from the road again, finding an uprooted tree that had left a cave-like hole in the earth. They cuddled, exhausted, sharing the warmth of each other’s bodies. Forgotten was the need to take turns sleeping, to be cautious and stay alert; too dire was the fatigue. It engulfed them, slowed down their breathing and lulled them into deep slumber.

Not even the tickling rays of sunshine on her nose could wake Lotte from her dreamless sleep.

“Woof.” A loud bark penetrated the air. “Woof. Woof.” At the insistent repetition of the sound invading her sleep, Lotte jerked up, her eyes wide open, staring into the sun high up in the sky, filtering through the leaves and blinding her for a moment.

She heard the ferocious growl and smelled the dog before she saw his furry face with sharp white teeth less than a yard away from her. Anguish attacked her heart, freezing her tightly in place, making it impossible to even blink an eye. Which was probably a good thing, because the vicious dog would have shredded her to pieces had she tried to run.

At the gulping sound next to her, Lotte turned her head the tiniest bit to see Gerlinde’s frantic expression. Her friend looked as close to a heart attack as Lotte felt. The large dog barked again and she expected the animal to charge at them, sink his teeth into her tender flesh and rip it apart. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, an old woman strode toward the frightened girls. She had long, white hair, piercing green eyes, and skin leathered from decades exposed to the sun. She used a walking stick, but was surprisingly agile in her movements. The old woman looked exactly like the bad witch in Hansel and Gretel, and Lotte pursed her lips at the notion of being fattened up for a Sunday roast.

“Rex, sit!” The woman shouted her command at the animal, which obeyed her instantly. The walking stick turned out to be a rifle and its muzzle replaced the fangs of the dog in Lotte’s range of vision. Crouched into the earth, Lotte knew the uniforms were giving them away.

“Get up, Nazis!” the woman ordered with a swift movement of her head. “But slow, or Rex here will take it out on you.”

Gerlinde grabbed Lotte’s arm, digging her fingernails deep into her flesh, clinging to Lotte as if she were a lifeboat. One glance at her friend’s visage told Lotte that she had passed the state of fear and jumped right into mortal agony, making it impossible to obey the dog owner’s commands.

“Need an extra invitation?” The woman pointed her rifle at the ridiculously shivering Gerlinde.

“No, ma’am. We’re getting up now.” Lotte wobbled to her feet, dragging Gerlinde up with her. They must have presented a picture of utter and complete misery. Two girls in Wehrmacht uniform, ragged, dirty, torn.

“Rex, heel,” the woman ordered and a now docile German shepherd walked over to his mistress, eyeing the scene with interest. One word from the old lady and he would be back to challenge the trespassers.

“What are you doing on my property?” she demanded of the girls, looking ever more like the bad witch.

Lotte involuntarily squinted her eyes, searching for the gingerbread house. Catching her ludicrous behavior, she wondered about the strange ways a mind wandered when faced with death. For, the woman had no good reason not to shoot them.

Raising her hands in a gesture of surrender, she tottered unsteadily on her feet, Gerlinde half hiding behind her, shivering like aspen leaves at the sight of the German shepherd. Lotte’s brain used the distraction to wander away from her imminent death and wondered what had caused Gerlinde’s unnatural fear of dogs. She decided to ask her later, should they survive this ordeal.

As if Rex knew she was thinking about him, he growled a warning, baring his huge fangs, primed to attack.

“Please, ma’am, it’s not how it looks,” Lotte begged, noticing by the smirk on the old woman’s face that her excuse was as lame as it sounded. “I m-mean y-yes, we are Wehrmacht auxiliaries, but we mean no harm.”

“No harm! Your folks killed everyone I loved. I’ll hand you over to the military police.”

“I’m s-sorry. I really am. W-we escaped near death at the hands of the British and are now on the run. They’ll shoot us for sure …” Lotte had difficulties keeping her voice steady.

The woman scoffed. “I’d spare them the trouble and shoot you lot myself.”

“Please,” Lotte begged, her legs wobbly.

The woman suddenly frowned, her stare gliding down Lotte’s leg. Now Lotte noticed it too, a slow trickle of warm liquid working its way down her leg. She gazed down to see the red trail and sighed, “Thank God.”

“Thank God for what?”

“My monthly visitor.” Lotte’s cheeks flashed with embarrassment, despite the relief washing over her. She hadn’t thought about the consequences the awful assault might have produced. How disgraceful it would have been to carry the proof of dishonor. Mutter had coped surprisingly well with the news that her oldest daughter Ursula was impregnated out of wedlock, but she would die of shame if her youngest one came home with the unwanted bastard of a nameless foreign soldier under her heart.

The woman’s eyes filled with silent understanding. At her age she was well-versed in the weapons of war and the fates of beautiful young girls. Her expression softened and she looked over at Gerlinde, who was still a shivering mess, hiding behind Lotte’s back. “What about your friend?”

“Her too,” was all Lotte could utter. Pronouncing the awful word would be like reliving the assault again. She preferred to keep silent and never to think about what had happened.

“Should I take pity on these girls? What do you think, Rex?” the woman addressed her dog.

He perked up his ears, raising his snout in the air in a gesture resembling a nod.

“You think I should?” She furrowed her brows. “After all the Nazis have done to us? Look at their uniforms.”

Rex dutifully turned his head and lazily got up, circling Lotte and Gerlinde. Lotte felt her trembling friend pressing tighter against her, her fingernails digging painfully into Lotte’s arm. Neither one of them moved, frozen in place, while the dog finished his perusal, encouraged by his mistress.

“Why should I show them any pity?” she raged. “The Nazis murdered my husband in front of my eyes. They shot my son, left him to bleed out and die with his wife and daughter watching. Their kind does not deserve mercy. Doesn’t the Bible say, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth’?”

Rex trotted back to sit beside his mistress, apparently unsure how to respond. The old woman chucked his neck and Lotte seized the moment of compassion to make a case for herself and her friend.

“Ma’am, doesn’t the Bible also say, ‘Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us’?”

The woman’s lips pursed. “Well-versed in the Bible. What’s your name, girl?”

“Alexandra Wagner. Like you, I lost my family in this horrible war. A bombing over Cologne took everyone from me I loved.” Lotte now had an idea how to spin her story. “I was petrified. Eaten up by hatred and a yearning for revenge. That’s why I joined up as Wehrmacht auxiliary… that’s the only reason why I’m wearing this uniform now. To avenge my family, my neighbors, my friends.” She paused for a moment, fixing her stare on the old woman, willing her to soften up. “Look how it has served me, this need for revenge. Abused, assaulted and soon to be shot dead by another woman who has lost everyone she loves.”

Behind Lotte’s back, a strangled sob escaped from Gerlinde.

“Ah, it is a wicked world we live in when there is no difference between friend and foe. Enough killing has been done already.” The old woman shrugged and lowered the barrel of her rifle.

Lotte pushed out the breath she’d been holding, but the vigilant eyes of Rex dared her to move.

“Follow me. I’m in the mood for bringing some good into this world of evil. The war’s over. Come, Rex,” the woman said gruffly and turned around.

Stupefied, Lotte didn’t fall into step right away. Rex’s low growl indicated he wasn’t pleased with her lack of speed in following the orders of his mistress. She hurried to snatch the kitbag and matched the woman’s pace, Gerlinde by her side, Rex bringing up the rear of the small procession.

After a good twenty minutes’ march they came to a clearing where a little cottage stood. It didn’t resemble a gingerbread house, but a stab of fear still swept over Lotte. Yet there was no way to outrun a bullet, or a dog.

She had to trust the old woman, whether she wanted to or not. Gerlinde had recovered from her state of shock, now that the dog was out of sight trotting peacefully behind, and whispered, “She might look like a witch, but I don’t believe we have any reason to fear.”

Lotte hoped her friend was right.