This
work is fictitious, and any similarities to any persons, alive or dead, are
purely coincidental. Mention is made of persons in public life only for the
purposes of realism and for that reason alone. Certain licence is taken in
respect of medical procedures, terms and conditions, and the author does not
claim to be the fount of all knowledge.
The
author accepts the right of the individual to hold his/her (or whatever) own
political, religious and social views, and there is no intention to
deliberately offend anyone. If you wish to take offence, that is your problem.
This is only a story, and it contains adult material, which includes
sex and intimate descriptive details pertaining to genitalia. If this is
likely to offend, then don’t read it.
Unfortunately,
no politicians, estate agents or lawyers were injured or killed in the writing
of this story, and no one else was either.
If
you enjoyed it, then please Email me and tell me. If you hated it, Email me
and lie.
I
will always welcome contact.
tanya_jaya@yahoo.co.uk
The
legal stuff.
This
work is the property of the author, and the author retains full copyright, in
relation to printed material, whether on paper or electronically. Any
adaptation of the whole or part of the material for broadcast by radio, TV, or
for stage plays or film, is the right of the author unless negotiated through
legal contract. Permission is granted for it to be copied and read by
individuals, and for no other purpose. Any commercial use by anyone other than
the author is strictly prohibited, and may only be posted to free sites with
the express permission of the author.
Fortune’s Soldier
by Tanya J. Allan , © 2004
Chapter Two Among the Enemy
“Hält, der ist Sie?” the voice
repeated.
Jamie stopped dead and put the
case down. His heart was racing, as he feared he was going to be discovered.
He waited for the man to come to her, making no sudden moves. He half expected
the man to laugh at his pathetic attempt to disguise himself, rip off the wig
and then shoot him for being a spy.
The soldier approached and
Jamie could smell the stale cigarette smoke on his breath. The man repeated his
question.
“Who are you?”
Jamie turned and looked him
straight in the eye. The German wasn’t that much older than he was, but by his
demeanour and general bearing, he had seen a lot of action. He was a big young
man and used to authority. The metal half-moon brassard plate suspended round
his neck identified him as a military policeman, which explained his general
confident attitude.
There was a German military
police check-point cleverly camouflaged at the side of the road, with a chicane
of sand bags and barbed wire that would slow vehicular traffic down.
Corporal Heinz Rausmann had
seen many civilians fleeing the fighting, so could see little difference with
this girl. She was pretty and dressed quite smartly. Not your usual refugee,
because she was clean and didn’t run away from him and quiver with fear.
He held his Schmeiser machine
pistol casually in his hands, not pointing it at her at any time.
“My name is Janine Chavanay.
I am a French worker, caught by the fighting. I was hoping to escape now it
was quiet,” Jamie said, in basic and slightly accented German. He had tried to
make his voice as feminine as he could. The first girl’s name that came to his
mind was that of his friend from all those years ago. The surname was his
grandmother’s maiden name.
The military policeman
frowned.
“You aren’t Dutch?” he said.
“No. As I told you, I am
French. I was working as an interpreter for a medical unit, but it was
transferred from France to Belgium, and then again a couple of
weeks ago to near this town, before being disbanded and regrouped. No one
asked me whether I spoke Dutch when we got the orders to move. We didn’t even
know where they were moving to,” Jamie said.
“Papers?”
“I have none. They were held
by the unit when it was pulled back when the fighting started in France. That way, I couldn’t leave
the medical unit. I was not able to find where the papers were taken after the
reorganisation. Then the British attacked, so I grabbed my suitcase and hid in
a cellar for ages.”
The soldier looked at the girl
closely. A pretty girl, who was not the usual sort he had to deal with. She
looked tired and pale, yet her answers had displayed that she was unafraid,
spirited and educated. No moronic scared local, a genuine victim and he felt
sorry for her. He made a decision.
“Where is your uniform?”
“I never had one. I am an
interpreter, not a nursing auxiliary. My job was to help with the German and
French, not the messy bits,” the girl looked embarrassed. “I’m not very good
with blood and gore.”
To Jamie’s relief, the man
gave a short laugh.
“Not many of us are,
sweetheart. Come with me to the Police post. We will try to get you some
emergency papers. Where do you hope to go?”
“Honestly?”
“Ja.”
“Home, to France. But the Allies are there
now and I have heard that the Free French shave the heads of female
collaborators, parade them through the town before raping and shooting them.”
Heinz nodded his head. He had
seen many things in this war, so nothing surprised him any more. All he wanted
to do was get back to his family in Bavaria,
so he felt even sorrier for the girl.
He made her accompany him to
the police unit, which was situated in the outskirts of the next town. He
watched her carefully for signs of fear or nerves. She displayed neither, and
simply shrugged and picked up her case.
At the police unit, which was
in fact the local police station, he sat her down on a bench in a secure
holding area and gave her a watery cup or ersatz coffee made of acorns.
“Wait here. I’ll see what I
can do.”
“Danke.”
He went and spoke with his
sergeant major. He told Sgt. Major Webber about the girl. The man looked at
the girl sitting sipping her coffee. She did not appear to be the usual
scrubber who seemed to follow the army around. A pretty thing, a little taller
than average, but very elegant, well dressed and looking rather tired.
He smiled, weren’t they all?
“Heinz, you can’t just go
picking up any pretty girl just because she reminds you of your sister.”
“Sorry boss, but she just
looked so fucking lost. Besides, the fucking French would shave off all her
hair and probably shoot her after raping her to buggery!”
“What the fuck do we do with
her? This is a fucking combat zone. She shouldn’t even be here. So, I
suppose you were right to bring her in. How do we know she isn’t a fucking
spy?”
“Come on boss, she’s just a
frightened girl.”
“Did you search her case?”
“No.”
“Then do it. If she is clean,
then we might do something for her. If not, then we turn her over to the SS.”
“Shit, for real?”
“Heinz, you aren’t a stupid
bloke, so stop acting like one. Go do your job.”
“Yes sir.”
Heinz walked over to the girl.
Jamie looked up as he
approached.
He smiled sympathetically.
“Sorry, but my boss says I
have to check your case.”
“Why, in case I have a
transmitter or something?”
“Something like that,” he said
apologetically.
She pushed the case towards
him.
“Go on, I have only my
clothes. I left my secret transmitter and decoding device in my old knickers.”
Heinz laughed, but still
searched her case. Without a word, she passed him her bag, so he searched that
too.
The relief on the soldier’s
face was apparent.
“You’re clean,” he said, and
she rewarded him with a smile that warmed his heart. She really was a very
pretty girl.
“Actually, I’d kill for a hot
bath,” she said and he laughed.
“You and me both, sweetheart. Let
me tell my boss. I won’t be long.”
The Sergeant Major was now
talking with one of the SS officers. The Waffen SS were at this moment mopping
up the last of the British airborne division in and beyond Arnhem, which was withdrawing,
leaving behind so many wounded men. This man was not Waffen SS, but the officer
in charge of the Police Unit. The Dutch resistance were a continual thorn in
the side of the Germans, so his job was to try to combat their activities.
Heinz stood patiently to one
side until he was finished. Webber saw him and nodded.
“Yes, Corporal?”
“Sir, the girl is clean.”
“So, give her a pass and get
her the fuck out of here.”
“What girl?” asked the
officer, an Obersturmbannfuehrer.²
“Just a French girl. She had
been with one of our medical units pulled in from France or Belgium, and now it has been disbanded, she was
left to her own devices, sir.”
“How do you know she is not a
terrorist?”
“Sir, she seems okay to me.”
“Have you searched her?”
“I’ve searched her case. Just
clothes; no food, nothing!”
“I asked if you had searched
her?”
“No sir.”
“I suggest you do so. We don’t
want her whipping a grenade out of her knickers and killing us all, now do we?”
“No sir.”
Arsehole! Thought Heinz.
He went back to the girl and
found her standing up, with her arms out to her side. She had heard the
conversation, so was ready to cooperate. The last thing she wanted was a strip
search by large German women.
“Just don’t tickle, please,”
she said with a little smile.
Heinz smiled and pretended to
search her thoroughly.
“Thanks. Sorry about this,
but the man is a complete bastard!”
She smiled at him, and he felt
she was the most gracious girl he’d ever met.
He went and reported to the SS
officer.
“Nothing sir. No grenade in the
knickers, Sir.”
The officer looked at him to
see if he was being facetious. Heinz kept a straight face, staring at a spot
above the man’s head.
“What use is some bloody
nurse? Just get her away from the combat zone.”
“Sir, with respect, she isn’t
a nurse. She was employed as an interpreter. She speaks German almost
perfectly and French of course.”
“A French interpreter? What
good is she here in Holland, when we are fighting the
English and Americans? Now, if she spoke English, then we could use her. Half
the bloody English paratroopers are in hospital, so we could do with someone to
assist our intelligence officers.”
“I could ask if she speaks
English as well, if you want, sir?”
The officer made no comment,
but Sergeant Major Webber simply nodded, so Heinz returned to where the girl
was waiting. Her head had flopped back against the wall and she looked asleep.
He gently touched her arm and
she jumped, looking very scared for a second.
“I’m sorry, I forgot where I
was for a moment,” she said.
“That’s okay. This fucking
war takes it out of all of us. Tell me, do you speak English as well as
German?”
Jamie’s heart quickened. What
should he say? Should he deny it and then be found out later?
“Yes,” Jamie said, deciding
honesty was the most effective policy.
“How well?”
“Almost fluent,” he said.
“Right. I think we might have
a job for you.” He said, turning away with Jamie staring after him.
“Sir?” Heinz said to the
officer.
“Yes?”
“The girl speaks good English,
sir.”
“Excellent! You said we were
using her before. Which unit?”
“I don’t think even she knows
that, sir. She said she was with one medical unit in France and then another in Belgium. What with all the
retreating, she was just swept along with the flow.”
“This is a fucking mess.
Still the British got a bloody nose this time. But they’ll be back and the
bloody Americans are sure to add their weight, no matter how wasteful they
are.”
Heinz didn’t risk a comment. The
SS could be nasty bastards and he hadn’t survived this long by speaking out of
turn.
“Well, I’m busy just now.
Sergeant Major, interview the girl and ascertain which medical unit she was
with. I want to establish she is not one of these fucking terrorists.”
“Yes sir. Corporal, take her
to room four.”
“Sir.”
Heinz felt even more sympathy
for the girl now, but he did as ordered and took the girl to a small interview
room. She sat on one of only two chairs. There was a small table between
them. He allowed her to keep the case of clothes. He had checked them, after
all.
Jamie sat and fretted, as an
austere female in dark uniform entered the room and stood by the door. A few
moments later Webber entered and sat on the other chair.
He looked at the girl, who
looked tired and drawn. She didn’t look like a desperate resistance fighter.
He went through her story, and
she repeated the answers she had already given. Jamie had no way of knowing
that this area had been a transit area for a great many units in the past
month. Six medical units had been and gone, so even Webber was unsure exactly
from whence they had come and where they now were.
In the end, he was satisfied
that she was just a young girl out of place and lost in the maelstrom of human
flotsam that war creates. He went and reported to the SS Obersturmbannfuehrer.
“Sir, I am satisfied the girl
is as she claims.”
“Excellent! Take her to the SS
billet at the hotel just down the road. Get her a room, and then bring her to
me at nine
o’clock. I’ll
be in my office.”
“Yes sir!”
Webber found Heinz grabbing a
crafty cigarette out the back.
“Heinz, our lord and master
wants to use her as an interpreter. Get her over to the hotel. He wants her
in his office by nine, so get a move on.”
Heinz returned a few moments
later to where the girl was. She was lying across the table now, her head on
her bag and was sound asleep. He looked at her exquisitely shaped legs.
These were what girl’s legs
should look like. He thought. Not those tree trunks the Party kept selling as
the epitome of Aryan womanhood.
He gently nudged her awake,
and once again he saw the fear and uncertainty in her eyes as she awoke. Once
she saw where she was, she relaxed and smiled.
Heinz smiled.
“The Obersturmbannfuehrer has
told us to get you a room n the hotel. All the SS personnel are billeted
there, so it looks like he has plans for you.”
“Plans?” she asked.
“You are an interpreter, so he
happens to need one with all the British POWs. You may find yourself helping
the Police Unit.”
“But he is SS,” she said, confused.
“The SS run the police. Apart
from the two SS panzer Divisions under General Bittich, the SS are everywhere
in this region. You have the civil police, some military police, Gestapo and SS
all operating under the local SS Police commander. It seems that you will be
working for us.”
Jamie was silent. This was
getting more and more dangerous. It was also surreal, and he just managed to
see the ridiculous side as well. He managed to smile. How stupid all this was!
Heinz took the girl in the
Kubelwagen to the hotel and he explained her circumstances to the SS
ScharfuehrerÌ on the desk. It had been a
good quality hotel before hostilities, and as ever, the SS always managed to
requisition the finer facilities for their own use.
The Scharfuehrer looked at the
tall slender girl, and as with the corporal, he liked what he saw. She smiled
uncertainly at him and he could see the disquiet in those blue eyes.
“It’s all right, my love, we
don’t bite. Unless you happen to be an enemy of the Reich,” he said and
laughed to signify he was joking.
Jamie managed to smile, and it
transformed his face.
“I’ll put you in room 108. It
has its own bathroom, so you can have a bath if you want. There should be some
hot water, but it will be all gone by nine,” he said and handed her a key.
“She has to be in
Obersturmbannfuehrer Willi Kranz’s office by nine.” Heinz told the
Scharfuehrer.
The Scharfuehrer looked at his
watch. It was an American watch, he had ‘liberated’ it from a dead American
pilot a year ago.
“You have one hour, so make
the most of it,” he said to the girl.
“Thanks,” she replied, smiling
at each of the men.
Heinz watched her go up the
stairs and the Scharfuehrer turned to him.
“Where did you find her?”
“Scurrying out of the town at
dawn. Poor cow, she was fucking terrified. She’d been hiding in a cellar as
she was near the bridge when the Tommies landed.”
“This war is a fucking
nightmare. I just hope to hell we have homes to go back to.”
“Yeah, me too,” said Heinz.”
“Are you coming to collect her
at nine?”
“I hadn’t thought. Can you
send someone with her? I am supposed to be on a check point, my blokes will get
the hump if I’m not there.”
“Yeah, I’ll fine someone.”
Heinz nodded and left the
hotel. The girl’s smile kept haunting him for much of the day.
Jamie found the room, and
looked at the bed longingly. The cupboard had not been the best place for
sleeping, but now he knew he’d sleep for over twelve hours if given a chance.
He caught his reflection in
the mirror and caught his breath.
No longer in candle light, he
could see that he was more than convincing. His problem, if anything, was that
he had made the girl too attractive. He locked the door and ran a shallow
bath. There was a small bar of soap in his case and he had a good wash.
He washed and shaved all parts
he could reach and enjoyed lying in the warm water.
He looked down at his body and
frowned.
He knew he was male, but his
shape was certainly not the typical male shape, nor was it the body he had at
one time aspired. His waist was too slender, yet his hips were a little too
broad. His slender arms and narrow shoulders were more female than male,
despite the lithe muscles, he did not look desperately masculine.
He had always been a little
embarrassed by his appearance and in particular his small genitalia. As he
looked at them he was aware that even here he was not the well endowed male
that everyone else at school and in the army seemed to have been.
He had been told that he would
change with puberty. He never had, not properly at any rate. Even his voice
retained the boyish quality and never really broke to his satisfaction.
In actual fact, Jamie Cameron
had been one in five thousand children who had been born inter-sexed. Most were
surgically corrected within a short space of time after birth. However, such
was his mother’s phobia of surgeons and hospitals that Jamie was whisked home
at the first opportunity. He was simply christened with the male name as his
apparent male genitalia were more prominent and obvious than the female.
However, that had been a
mistake, for the male genitalia were simply slightly distended female items,
and the little girl was destined to be brought up as a boy. There were other
factors which complicated the child’s development, mainly relating to the fact
that some of the maleness prevented appropriate development of the female
organs.
His father was never told the
truth, as his grandparents kept his mother’s secret for all these years. As
time progressed, the ‘boy’ seemed content enough, so his female side seemed to
be hidden, both the physical and the psychological.
The fact he seemed to thrive
and succeed so well at school, signified to his grandparents that they had made
the right choice. However, they were not to know the inner turmoil the boy
suffered, and the anguish of not actually feeling he belonged.
Jamie had never questioned his
condition, as he was as unaware of it as the rest of the world. As a pubescent
youth, he had wondered why his things weren’t changing as others were, as he
had found a strange hollow between his legs that he did not fully understand.
The fact his testes were very
small and his penis insignificant, he did not question, he merely became
self-conscious and shy about being naked with others around. He also was not
particularly upset that he did not seem to experience erections as did other
boys.
As he probed with his fingers,
as never before, this time feeling that he was on the verge of understanding,
yet unsure of what.
He had, as everyone else had,
completely taken his body for granted. Sex had never been an issue, and only now
did he start to seriously question his masculinity.
Why did he feel so at home
dressed as a girl?
Why did his body more resemble
a female’s than a male?
Why did he have a depression
beneath his scrotum, and what was the flap of skin towards the anus?
However his chest was as flat
as ever.
Or, was it?
He noted his nipples were
sensitive, and the flesh behind them was slightly puffy, swollen and tender.
Why?
He had neither the time nor
the opportunity to find answers to these questions at this moment. He got out
and dried himself.
He dressed in the same clothes
as before, experiencing the same warm feeling of belonging as he finished off
by applying a little makeup. He decided to do something with the wig. Left at
shoulder length, it was more prone to be held, caught and pulled off, whether
by accident or design.
He spent several valuable minutes
braiding it to each side and clipping it in a fashionable yet ordered manner.
It looked faintly Teutonic when he at last firmly clipped it on his head. He
smiled and the girl smiled back.
No matter how hard he tried,
he could not see the man that had been Jamie Cameron. It neither worried nor
upset him, and the girl’s smile was real.
Leaving the case in the room,
the girl went back downstairs and found a Sturmann› waiting by the desk.
“This man will take you to the
Obersturmbannfuehrer,” the Scharfuehrer told her.
She smiled her thanks and
followed the Sturmann to the waiting Kubelwagen.
She was taken back to the Obersturmbannfuehrer.
Willi Kranz liked the girl
immediately. She was blonde, and that was always his starting point. She had
a good Aryan face, fine features and a nice figure. She needed a bit more in
the breast department, but seemed to have good childbearing hips and superb
firm yet beautiful legs. She was probably underfed and so, with a good diet,
would fill out nicely.
Her blue eyes met his stare
unwaveringly. He smiled, as he liked them with spirit.
“I am Obersturmbannfuehrer
Willi Kranz. What is your name?”
“Janine Chavanay.”
“You are French?”
“Yes.”
“You speak excellent German.”
“Thank you. But I know it is
not quite fluent.”
“It is good enough. I
understand you have been assisting one of our medical units?”
“Yes, as an interpreter.”
“How did that come about?”
“There was a time in France when your medical officers
wanted someone who could speak German and French. The men had all gone and I
was sixteen and available. I was used in the main Hospital at Reims to help the doctors deal with patients
who had no French. I was later used in a field hospital when French casualties
were brought in for German medical staff.
“How old are you now?”
“Nineteen.”
He looked at her. She looked
older. The war had brought changes, and he knew he looked older than his
thirty-eight years.
“How come you speak such good
German?”
“My mother insisted I learn
it, and English too.”
“Why?”
Jamie shrugged, and his brain
worked overtime to make up a believable yet un-confirmable story.
“My mother was unsure who my
father was. She was working as a nurse in a Medical Station in Africa. Germans and British came
and went, and my mother had many lovers. I was the result of one of her
affairs. She always hoped that it was either a German Officer, or a British
officer, so he would come back and marry her.”
“And they never did?”
She smiled and shook her head.
“No, she died of cholera, and
I was brought up by my grandparents in Reims. My grandfather spoke German, so he
taught me to speak it too. He had been a prisoner of the Germans in the first
war.”
“You are aware that your
countrymen don’t exactly welcome back those seen as collaborators with the
Reich?”
“I am a realist. I was forced
to work for you back then, so I am aware that they will see it as a choice.
After all, my work did bring better rations and some luxuries for the family.
I chose to come with the medical unit, as my life would be made very unpleasant
once the Germans moved out. I have to live with that choice. All I can hope
for is to find somewhere I can live when all this stupidity is over.”
“Fraulein, it seems that the
Fatherland has further needs of your services. I understand that you speak
good English as well as German and French?” He spoke to her in German and she
replied in the same language. He could hear her slightly strange accent.
“Yes. Our neighbours had
English cousins, and they would come over in the summer holidays, so I picked
up more English with them.”
Willi stood up and walked over
to the window and looked out.
“This war is far from over.
The Fuhrer has some surprises up his sleeve for our enemies. They will never
conquer the Fatherland. They may take away some of the occupied territory for
a while, but Germany shall Prevail!”
He turned and smiled at her.
He noticed she was wearing a man’s wristwatch. He walked over and took her by
the left wrist, and raised it to see the watch more clearly.
“Swiss, good make. Why do you
wear a man’s watch?”
“Because it my work I need
something I can see well, and has luminous hands. It is my night clock as well
as my wrist watch. It was a present from a French pilot I knew. He is dead
now.”
“Your lover?”
The girl flushed.
“In time perhaps. I have yet
to experience that pleasure. The war keeps taking the men I like from me,” she
said evenly.
Willi let her wrist go.
“War is not a good time for
women,” he said.
“War is not a good time for
anyone,” she countered.
“Quite. Then, your presence is
needed in the military hospital. There are many wounded enemy soldiers. You
can help the medical personnel to give them the correct treatments. Also, we need
to interview them so as to prevent further foolish loss of life.”
Willi paused, considering
carefully how he should deal with this girl. She wasn’t German, yet clearly
she had been drafted in to help and was still here. She couldn’t go home, for
prejudice and persecution would make her life miserable at best and take her
life at worst.
She was too young to let go
and to leave to her own devices. He knew what a roving army patrol could do to
such an attractive girl, regardless of nationality.
He decided to place her under
his protection in the most effective manner he could. He called in an orderly.
“You are now directly under
the command of the SS Police Unit responsible for combating terrorist activity
and gathering intelligence from any source we can find.
“This may be somewhat
different to your previous tasks, and so it will be necessary for you to become
an SS auxiliary. So, this man will take you to the SS quartermaster, and you
will be issued with a suitable uniform. Then he will escort you to the
hospital, and you will report to SS Sturmbannfuehrerf Otto Schneider. He is in charge of all
POW screening and interrogations.”
The girl’s heart sank. This
was getting out of control. How the hell was she supposed to get out of this?
She simply nodded,
accompanying the Sturmann in the Kubelwagen to a large
warehouse just down the road. Some of the SS seemed to be in the process of
moving out. At least the support organisation was on the move, if not the
actual troops.
They managed to get someone to
sort out a uniform for her. A disinterested female SS auxiliary simply handed
her one set of everything. The interpreter flashes were given to her loose, so
she could sew them on at her leisure. They at least gave her a sewing kit with
which to do so.
They took her back to the
hotel so she could change. It was weird, for Jamie now actually thought of
himself as a female. The uniform was rather austere, and a stark reminder of
the danger she was in. She pulled on the long black boots and was pleased at how
well the fitted. She looked at the death’s head skull on the forage cap, then
put the black cap on her head at a rakish angle.
She looked into a mirror and
was staggered at her reflection.
Gone was the girl, and
replaced now by a veritable Valkyrie.
Jamie stared into those blue
eyes and it was as if she was staring at a complete stranger. Gone was the
boy, gone the strange ambiguous boy/girl that she had created. For here was a
girl who was determined to stay. Here was the person she had always been.
The girl smiled at her
reflection and gave herself a salute. Not the palm-forward style of the
British army, but with the palm down, in German style and clicked her heels
together.
Jamie had finally found who she
was. She wasn’t a boy. She knew she wasn’t really a girl yet, but she was
going to have a go at least. She had been pushed into being something she
wasn’t sure she wanted to be for the first nineteen years, so now she decided
to make up her own rules as she went along. If they discovered her, they would
shoot her, but then at least she could say she tried.
She locked the door and went
downstairs. She asked for directions to the Sturmbannfuehrer’s office.
The sergeant grinned at her.
The uniform improved her looks. Somehow, she seemed different. Her stature
had changed, her head was held up and it was as if she had been injected with
10ccs of confidence booster. Her cool blue eyes seemed to set a challenge to
anyone and everyone, saying – ‘Here I am, if you don’t like it – tough.’
She looked very Aryan now, so
all the young officers would start fighting to get into her knickers.
He picked up the telephone and
spoke briefly into it.
“A driver will take you
there. Two minutes,” he told her.
She smiled and he immediately
felt the sexual chemistry she imparted. She had a wonderful smile and if he
hadn’t been old enough to be her father, he was sorely tempted to proposition
her himself.
Twenty minutes later, she was
standing before the young Sturmbannfuehrer’s desk. He examined her brand new
identity papers, sucking air in through his teeth. He was sitting at a desk,
yet even sitting down she could tell he was a tall and sturdy man. Broad in the
shoulder and carrying little spare weight. He had very short fair hair, a
relic of his Russian front days, when hair attracted all manner of unwanted
wildlife. His face was honest and open, but carried the pain of too much
horror in such a short time.
Otto Schneider was only
twenty-six. However, he had seen action in the Waffen SS in most theatres of war
except Africa and the Far East. He had narrowly avoided
death on several occasions in Eastern
Europe, so his
current task was as unpleasant to him as it was to most of those who came
through his hands.
A serious shrapnel wound to
his left knee took him out of active soldiering. He had joined the Waffen SS
straight from the Hitler youth in 1938. Except it wasn’t called that then. He
had thought Hitler had had all the answers then. Now, he didn’t.
He had requested to return to
his unit, but his leg injury had precluded that possibility. Given a desk job,
they transferred him to assist the police unit, yet he really had no stomach
for the task he now found himself doing.
Now he was in pain,
disillusioned and seriously concerned about the future. His parents were dead,
his brother, Peter, was in the navy and he hadn’t been heard from him for over
a year. His sister, Gretchen, was in part of Germany that was likely to be over-run by the
Russians very soon, yet now he was supposed to interrogate wounded enemy
officers and men.
The girl sent to help him
arrived just as a fresh batch of captured officers was brought to the holding
area. They weren’t all wounded, so it was less complicated. He looked up at
the girl.
She was strikingly attractive.
Her hair was tidy and her
uniform pristine. Her blue eyes were focussed on some point above his head and
her make up was discrete and well applied. He could see that she had removed
nail varnish quite recently.
“At ease, fraulein,” he
said. His voice was quiet and sounded tired.
She relaxed a little.
He handed her the papers back
and stood up. He eased the painful knee as he straightened, grimacing as the
pain coursed through his leg. He grabbed at the silver-topped ebony cane that
was by his desk. He used it to take the strain from his bad leg.
“Cigarette?” he asked,
offering her a pack.
“Thank you, but no. I don’t,
sir.”
“I like your accent. You are
not German?”
“No sir. French.”
She looked as if she ought to
be on a German recruiting poster. It was hard to believe she wasn’t even
German.
“Then forgive me, how is it
that you are here?”
“Long story. I was assisting
a Vichy medical unit in France with language problems. It
was taken over by a German unit, and moved. I found myself caught up in a
massive withdrawal. I ended up here, and the medical unit was moved again
without me. I hid when the fighting started, and tried to leave, applying to
the police for papers. Your boss found I could speak English, German and
French, and enlisted me into the SS auxiliaries.”
“So, you didn’t volunteer?”
“Not as such, sir.”
“That makes two of us,” he
muttered.
“Sir?” she asked frowning, she
met his eyes for the first time. They were grey and seemed full of pain.
“Nothing. Janine, it is a
lovely name.”
Jamie blushed.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Relax. I’m a soldier, not a
fucking idiot like Willi.”