War Girls Complete Collection Chapter 320

Chapter 39: Ursula

U

rsula slipped out of the window and walked along the wall in the shadow of darkness. She had to cross an open space to the next barracks and from there it was only a few steps to the hole in the fence.

She glowed inside from the lovemaking with Tom and had to bite down on her lips in order not to hum a happy tune. The compound still slept, but on the far side she saw light in one of the barracks. Her mouth watered at the unmistakable sound of kettles being put on the stove as the kitchen staff prepared breakfast.

A wistful longing came over her. It would be so nice if she could just walk into the mess and have a hearty breakfast. She turned around the corner and bumped into another person.

“Well, well, well. What have we here?” the soldier said.

Ursula couldn’t see his face in the darkness, but his creepy demeanor sent a shiver of fear up her spine. She glimpsed the fence less than ten yards away and pondered whether she should make a run for it. Tom had assured her that most of his comrades ignored the non-fraternization policy and most superiors turned a blind eye to nightly visits.

But this man smelled like trouble.

Before she could come to a decision, he grabbed her wrist and said, “I saw you climb out of Westlake’s window and I know what you’ve been doing with him.” He leered at her. “It would be a shame if someone told on you. Or on him…”

“Please let me pass,” Ursula asked him quietly, her heart thumping hard against her ribs.

“I don’t think so. In fact, I have a better idea. My room’s right here and we’ll call it even, if you come with me and give me a sample of the skills you applied to Westlake. How does that sound?”

Ursula shook her head in horror and jerked her arm from his grip, running back the direction she’d come from. In her haste to get away from him, she lost her orientation and kept running straight ahead, with no idea where she was going.

Suddenly she stared into the stern faces of two MPs pointing their rifles at her. It occurred to her that running like a mad hen through a military compound was the worst thing she could have done. She came to a skidding halt in front of them, stitches making her breathing labored, and slowly raised her hands.

“Where do you think you’re going?” one of them asked her. Or he could have said something entirely different, because she was too terrified to make sense of his English words.

“Come with us,” the short, burly one said, not entirely unfriendly. She guessed him to be in his late twenties.

She nodded and followed them into one of the barracks where they led her into a room that seemed to be some kind of office. Ursula frantically tried to come up with an excuse, since she didn’t want to expose Tom and risk him being discharged from service.

“What are you doing here? Don’t you know Gatow airbase is off-limits to Germans?”

“Isn’t it clear what she’s been doing here?” the other one said with a salacious click of his tongue. “I wouldn’t kick her out of my bed.”

Ursula’s face blazed fire, because that’s exactly what she’d been doing. But they didn’t understand. Tom and she were deeply in love and she wasn’t some tart who came here for nylons and chocolate. “I’m sorry. It seems I got lost. I have no idea how I ended up in here.”

“Why did you run away?” the burly soldier said, trying to hide a smirk at her obviously fabricated lie. People didn’t simply stumble into a heavily guarded, fenced-off military compound.

But despite his attempt at an intimidating stance, she wasn’t afraid of him. Not like the one who’d confronted her at the barracks and had given her some awfully creepy feelings.

“I heard a strange sound and got scared,” Ursula said.

“Show me your papers,” he demanded.

Ursula handed him her identification card that had

Mindelheim

and

American sector

printed on it.

He squinted his eyes. “You don’t even live in Berlin? You know it’s illegal to leave your occupation zone, right?”

“I have a travel permit. I came here to visit my mother,” Ursula quickly explained and withdrew from her pocket the permit issued by the Americans and stamped by the Soviets.

The MP scrutinized the paper. As soon as he set his jaw into a hard line, she knew she was busted. “That travel permit was valid until,” he looked at his wristwatch, “four hours ago. You’re an illegal in Berlin.”

“But I have all of today to return…” she protested.

The dark-haired MP joined the interrogation. “Which no doubt you won’t be able to make, because you’ll spend some time in one of our cells. Because I’ll tell you why you’re here, and it’s not because you’re

lost

. You’re here to spy for the Soviets.”

The mounting tension between the Soviet Union and the Western Allies was a constant companion in the lives of every Berliner. Tom had told her that the Russian

accidentally

showed up near the airbase on a regular basis. Their barely concealed animosity annoyed the hell out of the British crew.

“I’m not a spy, and definitely not for the Russians. I hate them as much as you do.”

“Then tell us what you were doing on the base!”

Ursula remained silent. She’d rather suffer punishment herself than get Tom in trouble.

“Now? Do you want us to throw you into prison?”

“No, please…” The memory of her last stay inside a cell was still fresh and she couldn’t bear the thought of not seeing Evie for days, weeks, or even months. “…You’re right. I sneaked in here to see one of the soldiers.”

“Aha…” The short one seemed content with this answer and said to his partner, “She clearly isn’t a spy, just a frightened and stupid girl. We would have a lot to do if we arrested every peachy Fräulein serving bed duty with the servicemen. So what do you want to do with her?”

Ursula didn’t know whether to protest the classification as a whore or sag in relief. Finally, she decided anything was better than being accused of spying for the Russians and gave them a tentative smile. “Please, I have a baby daughter waiting for me. May I go home?”

She saw the expression of the man in charge soften and already wanted to cry victory when a knock on the door interrupted them. The other man went to answer it and came inside with the soldier who’d accosted her earlier. Her toes curled at the sight of him.

“It’s her!” the newcomer shouted out. “This is the woman I saw climbing out of Westlake’s window.”

Ursula wrapped her arms around herself, afraid of what would come next. Because after such a dramatic entrance, it was clear, the MPs couldn’t just let her go, even if they’d been inclined to do so mere minutes before.

“Is this true?” the MP in charge asked her.

“I don’t know who Westlake is.” She made a desperate attempt to protect Tom.

“She’s lying.” A sly smile crossed her accoster’s face. “She even attacked me when I confronted her and then ran away. That’s not how an innocent person reacts. I’ll bet she’s a spy. I’ll bet she and Westlake are in cahoots together passing along information to the Soviets.”

Ursula balled her hands into fists. These soldiers had watched too many spy movies. Sure, everyone was neurotic about the Soviets wanting to squeeze the other Allies out of Berlin, but that was no reason to automatically assume everyone was a spy.

“That’s a serious accusation, Bronson. Do you have any evidence to prove it?”

“I’ve been suspecting Westlake for quite a while, Blake,” Bronson said, the wheels in his brain visibly turning, as he glowered at Ursula. “Doesn’t it strike you as peculiar that Westlake was never seen with a woman before?”

“There’s a first time for everyone.” Blake laughed.

“Not when he’s known to be queer.”

Ursula sucked in a breath, not exactly sure she understood the correct meaning of Bronson’s words, because he couldn’t possibly be insinuating that Tom… no… no… or?

“Oh, come on, weren’t you the one who invented that unfounded rumor?” Blake said.

“Rumor or not,” Bronson said. “I’m here to file an official complaint against this German tart and Tom Westlake. You’d better go and investigate him or I’ll have to file a complaint against you as well.”

Ursula saw the vein at Blake’s temple pulsating, but he managed to keep his voice amazingly calm when he answered, “Of course, we will investigate. Come with me, Johnson. We’ll question Westlake right away.”

“You’d better stay here, if you don’t want to dig yourself deeper,” the man called Johnson said before the three men left the office.

She overheard them sending Bronson to his barracks and then Johnson saying, “Bronson is a veritable pain in the arse.”

“You can say that again. Thanks to him we now have to go on a wild goose chase because of a woman. As if we didn’t have more serious problems.”

“What an arsehole!”