War Girls Complete Collection Chapter 339

Chapter 6

O

ne day, new information interrupted the boring routine.

“Germany has capitulated! The war is over!” the guards announced when Johann returned in the afternoon from his work detail.

They must have received the news hours ago, because the Russians, and most of the Romanians, were smashed. The smell of alcohol wafted across the camp and the guards could barely keep their rifles straight.

For a moment Johann thought about escape, but he understood the futility of such an attempt. Even if he managed to wrest away the rifle of one of the guards, the vast Russian grasslands were unforgiving. A man on foot would never make it past the thirty-five-mile cordon around the camp. Then he’d be picked up by soldiers and beaten to a pulp before he was brought back to die as a forbidding example for his fellow prisoners.

Since the guards were too inebriated to enforce the usual afternoon work, the prisoners settled in the courtyard. They talked – as usual – about the one thing foremost in their minds: going home. After all, the hope of seeing home again was what kept them alive despite all odds.

“We made it!” someone said.

“I never believed I’d survive the war.” Gerd managed something resembling a smile.

“Everything will change now,” Helmut said.

“It’s surreal. I fear I’ll wake up and find out I’m dreaming,” Johann said.

“Want me to pinch you?”

“No, thanks.” Johann remembered all too well the embarrassing pinches performed by the Russian doctor.

As the evening wore on, Gerd gathered his courage and asked one of the drunken Russians, “What will happen to us now that the war is over?”

The soldier laughed, as if it was the funniest joke he’d heard in years, slapped Gerd on the shoulders and said, “V

oina kaput. Vsye domoi

.”

“What did he say?” Johann asked.

“The war is over. Everyone goes home.”

“That is good news, indeed.” Johann’s heart filled with jubilation. He couldn’t wait to see Lotte again. She must be worried crazy about him, since he hadn’t been allowed to send her a message about his whereabouts. Dreams of holding her in his arms again, getting married and starting their own family filled his heart.

That night he slept with a smile on his lips.

Home! Sweet Home!

The next day

was business as usual. And the one after that… two weeks later, the prisoners sent a delegation to the camp administration to ask about the promised release.

“You will be released tomorrow.”

But tomorrow never came.

Soon Johann hesitated to believe any of the promises the Russians made. Better food, less work, blankets for the night, return home… all of these things were promised on a regular basis, but never manifested.

At least Johann was relieved from working in the quarry and instead assigned to the lumber mill. Working there was much less agonizing. Sometimes they had to haul trees from the woods and he always offered to go, because he actually enjoyed being in the woods.

Hauling felled trees to the lumber mill had several advantages. First, the Russian guards were too lazy to accompany them, knowing the prisoners couldn’t escape anyway. As long as they returned in time to feed the hungry saws, nobody hurried them on with screams and punches. But the far more important advantage was the opportunity to organize food. The prisoners would scavenge for edible plants and berries to supplement their meager diet.

One day, a comrade saw a hare with two kittens. Johann reacted instinctively and threw a stone at the smallest one.

“Good shot,” his fellow said with admiration. Together they walked to pick up the wounded animal. Johann broke its neck and hid it under his shirt. The poor animal would provide a nice meal for him and his closest friends tonight.

The rabbit’s soft fur was smooth against his belly and he wished he’d had fur mittens last winter. He didn’t think he’d still be here next winter, but if he used the fur to make mittens, he could barter them for food.

As summer broke the food rations increased slightly. Still not enough to calm the raging hunger Johann felt every minute of every day, but at least he stopped losing weight.

Thanks to the vegetables they had planted at the camp, every prisoner received one onion and one tomato per week, a much-needed delight among the otherwise drab meals.

“I can’t believe it,” Johann said, savoring the almost ripe tomato the size of a tennis ball.

“It’s a gift from heaven.” Helmut closed his eyes and sighed. He’d become awfully haggard, and Johann suspected he didn’t look much better himself.

“I remember having toiled like a mule for this gift.”

“God gives to those who don’t sit idle.”

“Do you have an answer to everything?” Johann asked and answered the question himself. “Yes, you do. I have no idea how you can still believe in a just God, when he lets us rot in this hellhole.”

“His ways are mysterious. But if I didn’t believe that all my suffering held a bigger meaning, I wouldn’t have the strength to get up in the morning.” Helmut’s eyes opened and Johann glimpsed a rare flash of total desperation in them.

“I had no idea…” he murmured. He’d always mocked his friend for his unshakable belief, but he’d never considered it was the one pillar that kept Helmut alive.

In contrast to himself, Helmut didn’t have a girl waiting for him to return. Lotte served as Johann’s anchor, and the dream of returning to her was his reason to survive just another day. Without that goal, he’d have given up already and turned crazy, running into the forbidden area near the fence around the camp.

Every other day a man who couldn’t take the abuse any longer did just that, in the hopes the guards would shoot him dead. It was the one promise the Russians always made good on. Nobody had to wait long for the redeeming bullet.

Lying in the sun, nibbling at his raw onion, Johann put the cruel winter behind, intending never to think of it again. “What do you think? Will they let us go home before winter returns?”

“I sure hope so,” Gerd said.

“Have you heard? There’ll be a transport home soon,” Jens, a short, sickly former tank driver said.

“

Skoro domoi!

” Helmut scoffed. “If they say, ‘home soon’ one more time, I’ll vomit on their feet.”

Johann opened his eyes in shock, the outburst completely out of character for his friend. “Are you alright?”

“Never been better.”

A short silence ensued, until Karsten broke the silence. “Don’t believe the rumors until they come with a list.”

Johann had come to like the quiet man who kept a strict but just regimen in their barracks. And he’d always be indebted to him for the tips during his first days as slave laborer in the quarry.

“A list?” Gerd laughed.

“Yes. A list. The Russians put anything and everything on a list. Do you really believe they’d send us home without making and remaking endless lists first?” Karsten asked.

“You’re probably right.” Johann scratched the stubble on his head. For hygienic reasons the common prisoners had to shear their heads every two weeks. A few longhairs had achieved the privileged status of maintaining their hair by providing sought-after skills to the Soviet officers.