War Girls Complete Collection Chapter 270

Chapter 17

“T

he door is open; go on in!” The old woman nudged Lotte in the back with the barrel of her rifle. After a split-second of hesitation, she gripped Gerlinde’s elbow tight and together they stepped through the heavy front door of the cottage. If the woman wanted to kill them, she surely wouldn’t bring them into her home first.

“Better not be seen outside in those uniforms of yours,” she said. “I’m Ingrid, by the way.”

“Gerlinde Weiler.”

“Gerlinde. Gentle javelin.” Ingrid noticed the confusion and explained, “It’s an Old High German name.

Ger

is a Germanic dart and

lind

means soft, gentle. The name was given to women of noble origins with a gentle character.” She scrutinized Gerlinde for a long minute, before she continued, “The name is very fitting for you. Your gentle character may be hidden beneath your thirst to enjoy your life, but this is going to change with the years.”

Ingrid turned toward Lotte, giving her a pensive look. “Now, for Alexandra, that’s an entirely different thing. It’s derived from Alexander and the meaning is defender, protector. You have a strong sense of justice and seek to protect the weak, defend those treated unjustly. You’ll go on to do great things with your life. The person who chose this name for you knows you very well. It’s almost if she’d known you for years even before giving you the name.”

Lotte staggered under Ingrid’s unforgiving stare, which penetrated her very soul, ripping her entire being out into the open. That woman definitely was a witch, or why did she know things nobody else knew? Ursula had chosen the new name for Lotte and she’d known her for seventeen years…

Returning the stare, Lotte observed her vis-à-vis closely, realizing that in spite of the white hair and the leathery skin, Ingrid was not really an old woman. Only the deep furrows on her face, caused by sorrow, made her seem ancient. She might be the same age as Mutter, who was in her late forties.

Gerlinde broke the silence. “We don’t want to impose on you.”

“You are imposing,” Ingrid said in a gruff tone. “But since I decided to end the blood for blood, as your friend suggested, I need to keep you away from prying eyes. What do you have in that kitbag of yours?”

“Just some bread, a knife and a water bottle,” Lotte truthfully answered, although she omitted the money hidden in her shoe.

“No change of clothes?”

Both girls shook their heads in unison.

“I can’t very well send you on your way in these uniforms,” Ingrid sighed. “Wait here!” Then she disappeared through one of the doors.

Lotte stood unsure, glancing over at her friend. But if she had entertained the idea of running away, an almost inaudible growl reminded her of Rex’s presence. The German shepherd certainly wouldn’t take kindly to their disobeying his mistress’s commands.

So they waited.

Ingrid soon returned with two old, ragged dresses that resembled sacks. “Change into this.”

In fashionable mouse gray, the coarse material just about scratched Lotte’s skin by nothing more than looking at it. Death-defying, she took the dress into her hands, peering around for a place to change.

“It’s only me and Rex, so no reason to be shy.” Ingrid laughed. “Get behind that armchair if you must.”

Lotte flushed bright red, the heat emanating from her ears. It wasn’t so much that she was a prude who didn’t dare to be seen in her undergarments by another woman, but more that she hated to reveal the bruises on her legs and arms, remnants of the proceedings she yearned to forget.

Taking imperfect cover behind the armchair she stepped out of her uniform and slipped into the dress that hung heavy from her shoulders with no form to speak of. Her suspicion that it really was a sack increased when she saw the faded black letters adorning the mousey cloth.

Once Gerlinde had changed into her new

dress

, Lotte almost had to giggle at the scarecrow coming out from behind the armchair.

At least no man will mistake us for beautiful prey in this attire

.

“Thank you, Ingrid. We appreciate your kindness,” Gerlinde said, with the rigid posture of a queen even when adorned by the ugliest of sacks.

“I help you not out of the kindness of my heart, because I have none for you. I’m doing it to honor my Arne,” Ingrid retorted with a shudder. “My Arne was an exceptional man. He fought those Nazi bastards to the very end, but he would never have laid one hand on a woman. He always told me to be compassionate even when it went against my being. Isn’t it ironic that your people had no mercy for my Arne and yet it is he who has saved you now?”

Silence filled the cottage as each drifted off into her own private hell of painful memories, until a growl from Rex brought the women back to the present.

“You can stay here tonight. It’s not safe to travel in the dark,” Ingrid told them. “There are wild animals about and you could be attacked.”

Lotte feared uniformed men more than wild animals, but she nodded in agreement with her hostess.

“But in the morning, you must leave. It is better that way.”

“Yes, ma’am. We will be on our way in the morning,” Gerlinde spoke up. “Thank you for your kind hospitality, we will never forget what you did.”

“Enough of the sentimentality.” Ingrid tried to put on a fierce front. “Better I get dinner ready.”

“May we help you?” Gerlinde asked and Ingrid beckoned them into her small, homey kitchen. Sitting at the sturdy wooden table, the three women peeled and sliced and diced the ingredients for a hearty stew.

Tears sprung to Lotte’s eyes and she said, “It’s so long since I did this with my mother and I never realized what a pleasure it was.”

“Where is she now?” Ingrid asked, her face taking on a wistful expression.

“In Berlin.” Gerlinde shot her a shocked stare. “She’s dead, but my grandmother is in Berlin.”

“I hear the Ivan has Berlin under his thumb, not wanting to give the other Allies their rightful share.”

Stupefied, Lotte stared at her.

“Come on, you must have known this. Years ago, the Allies divided the booty amongst themselves, giving each a chunk of your country, and your capital. Germany as we know it has ceased to exist, never to rise from the ashes. It is annihilated, defeated, smashed into pieces. One for each of the four Allies,” Ingrid scoffed.

“Although I don’t know why France claims to be a victorious power, since they haven’t fought any harder than others like Poland, Norway, the Netherlands or even Greece and Yugoslavia did. Except for our pathetic country of willing collaborators, every other nation in Europe fought against your bloody folks.” Ingrid’s words became more heated and she attacked the cabbage on the table as if she were flaying Nazis into tiny pieces.

“But I digress. Fact is, your country was cut down to the core, giving away pieces to the neighboring countries. And the tiny core area you have left is dismembered like the soldiers on the battlefields were. Divided into four parts, each one of them belonging to one of the victors, making sure your country will never again pose a threat to peace and the well-being of others. But because the Allies hate each other, they couldn’t even agree on the booty. Each looking suspiciously to see if the other one has gotten the better chunk, much like siblings always fighting about toys, chores, and food.”

Lotte’s ears burnt with shame, but she had to know. “So what about Berlin?”

“Since it’s the capital, everyone wanted to have it. It’s the most coveted prize in this war. Set foot into Berlin and be forever the one who rules this world. So they decided to quarter the city as well. In spite of its location in the Soviet Zone, the Tommies, Amis and French get their part. How that will work out, I have no idea. Anyhow, the Ivan got there first and apparently has decided he’ll keep Berlin for himself, not letting the other armies step inside. God, I sure hope those stupid men don’t start another war over the fate of this condemned city.” Ingrid looked up, gathering the vegetables into a pot.

“If you ask me, a malediction has been cast over Berlin. It will take many more decades and many more sacrifices until three wise men will come along. They will countermand the curse by overcoming their differences peacefully and joining their hands together. I won’t be around by that time.” Ingrid’s green eyes gleamed like emeralds in the sun. “Your children and grandchildren will.”

A lump formed in Lotte’s throat at the ominous words. She couldn’t imagine living the rest of her life under a constant doom. The old woman must have lost her mind grieving for her husband and son.

It turned out Ingrid was quite the enjoyable hostess who knew a lot more about politics, philosophy and earthly wisdom than one would expect from a simple woman living alone in a small cottage at the edge of the forest.

“Enough of the chatter.” Ingrid got up after dinner and piled the plates in the sink. “I mustn’t keep you up, for you need to rest. You have got a long day ahead.” Perhaps a reminder that her hospitality was limited for Germans, however much they pleaded their innocence.

“Let me do that.” Gerlinde took the sponge out of Ingrid’s hand and began to wash the dinner plates. When the older woman protested, Gerlinde said, “It’s the least I can do.”

Lotte wiped up and put the kitchen and sitting room in order while Ingrid stoked the fire and threw their uniforms onto the burning heap. The fire crackled with violence as it devoured the dirty cloth. A single tear slipped down Lotte’s face.

A chapter of her life had been closed past recovery. However much she had hated the Nazis, the war, and even her role in the Wehrmacht, it had been an essential part of her life. She’d already shed her skin once, becoming Alexandra Wagner; now it was time to molt again. Her life as Alexandra would soon be nothing but distant history, as she returned to her true identity of Charlotte Klausen.

But first she had to find her family.

She smiled, wondering what Ingrid’s verdict about her real name would be. The odd woman certainly had some insight into life not everyone had. She might not be a witch from a fairy tale, nor a fairy godmother, but she did pick up on things between heaven and earth that most people were oblivious about.

Rex barked and Ingrid sat up straight, her hand grabbing at the rifle that was never out of reach. Beady-eyed, her posture straight and ears perked up the same way Rex’s were, she listened intently to whatever danger might be lurking out in the shadows.

The dog gave a whimpering howl and she smiled. “All right, go out and catch your food.” She opened the door for the dog and when she returned to see the girls facing her with mouths gaping wide open, she said, “Don’t stare at me like that. Must have been a marten. No use in having them around, and Rex has to eat, too.”

They finished their chores and Ingrid showed them to a tiny room upstairs, full of photographs from happier times. A young Ingrid in her wedding dress, obvious joy making the bride’s face glow. There were other photographs of the couple and their son through the years, documenting their time together.

Lotte felt like she was peering into someone’s secret life, but Ingrid wasn’t embarrassed or upset when she noticed Lotte’s interest. Instead she explained with a faraway look on her face, “My Arne was a keen photographer and I was his favorite subject.”

“These are memories to cherish forever,” Lotte said. “It is what keeps us united with our family, even when we’re far away.” The remorse over not having recovered her own family photographs stabbed at her heart. At least she had the single headshot of Johann, looking quite dashing in his uniform with the new stripes after his promotion to Leutnant during their time in Warsaw. In times of war, promotions were plentiful – for those who stayed alive.

Sadness crept into her heart and she suddenly felt Ingrid’s calloused hand on her arm. An electric current shot through her and she felt quite a strange reassurance to keep on her path. The green eyes of the old woman shone with a brilliance Lotte had rarely ever seen, her own green ones paling in comparison.

“He will come home, my dear, but you can never give up hope and yield to his demands.”

Whatever does this mean

? Before she could ask, Ingrid’s eyes clouded over and she jerked her hand away from Lotte’s arm. The compassion in her voice turned into a cold business demeanor. “The bed is small, but so are the two of you. I will wake you at dawn and show you the direction of home. Good night.”

“Good night,” Lotte responded, but the older woman had already fled the room, closing the door behind her back.

“What was that about?” Gerlinde asked, her eyes wide like saucers.

“Honestly, I have no idea.” A sudden chilliness took hold of Lotte, as she tried to understand the ominous words Ingrid had uttered. Was the old woman certifiably insane or did she know more than she should?

Always one to stand with both feet in the middle of life, usually in some kind of trouble, Lotte did not believe in the supernatural. Gypsies, palm reading, Tarot cards, all of that was only a fluke. The stuff of con men intent on pulling money out of gullible people’s pockets. She shook her head.

Definitely insane

. Anyone living out here all on her own with only a dog as company would start seeing things that weren’t there and talking in riddles.