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

Chapter Three Changing sides, again.

Brigadier William Cameron was an unhappy man.

Not only had the Operation Market Garden been a fiasco, but his only son and heir had been lost. Jamie was reported missing believed killed in action.

It had been such a fiasco that no one knew exactly how many had died or how many had been captured. As yet, no names were available, so there were a lot of people worried and waiting.

He had been with Montgomery when the full picture unfolded, so as he saw the disaster, his sense of loss was very acute.

He suddenly felt enormous guilt for not being the father he should have been. The lad had been brave and gutsy, even when he was less well physically endowed than many contemporaries, he had more than made up for it in other ways.

Will took the time to telephone his late wife’s parents. They had, after all, been more his parents than he ever had. Now in their late eighties, they took the news stoically. Holding onto the hope and belief that, somewhere, Jamie was alive and well.

The allied push stopped before Arnhem and the surrounding area. The Germans had withdrawn, so the push for Germany was on, leaving Holland for the time being. Indeed, the Belgians and Dutch felt rather aggrieved by the Allies determination to go for Germany, and leave them un-liberated. It was to be a cold and long winter, but the Germans weren’t going to give in easily.

The road was full of refugees, so the attractive, fair-haired girl was just one of many. There were few cars, many handcarts and loads of people simply walking with what they could salvage in their arms.

Janine found herself walking next to a Dutch family who had lost everything when the German tanks had used their farm as a base. The US Air force had attacked them, so as a result everything they now owned was in a small handcart.

The family spoke no French, so they conversed in broken English and German. The mother was in her forties and the three children all looked shocked and despairing. Father was weeping uncontrollably, as the farm had been in the family for six generations.

Janine felt a real fraud as they made their weary way towards the smoke in the south-west.

Every now and again aircraft flew low over the long column, and upon seeing they were fleeing civilians, it would waggle its wings and roar up and away from them. The aircraft were predominantly Allied. The German Luftwaffe was conspicuous by their absence.

The column would suddenly grind to a halt, and rumours of why they had stopped abounded. Janine discovered that no one knew where they were headed, they were all hoping that where they were going was better that where they had just been.

Suddenly, the column was scattered to the side of the road by a long line of German trucks and tanks. They were all heading the opposite direction, as the whole road was taken over. The sullen faces of the tired and dirty German soldiers told another story. They were in retreat and weren’t smiling arrogantly any more.

After the trucks came the infantry soldiers, trudging solidly eastwards. They were even more dishevelled than those lucky enough to be in transport. They were dirty, hungry and tired, and all looked as if they had had enough. There were thousands of them and every now and again motorcyclists roared up the avenue between the two long files.

Janine waited sitting on her case, sharing a little of her food with the Dutch children. She had an old lemonade bottle full of water, so she drank sparingly. Some of the refugees drank from the puddles and ditches. She was not going to risk disease at this point.

She had ditched the wig shortly after being dropped off by the SS. By wearing a headscarf for most of the time, the wig was unnecessary and impractical. She had none of the German uniform left save her boots. She had, however, retained her waterproof groundsheet and a blanket. She was grateful for both during her six days she spent in the open.

On the seventh day, the column halted again and Janine had had enough. She said goodbye to her Dutch family, taking off across the dirt track that headed due west. Some people shouted at her, but no one made any move to stop her.

Once free of the depressing column, she felt free and her spirits lifted a little. She kept walking, following a canal to the south and west. However, she sorely needed a bath. She stopped by a stream. It was little more than a drainage ditch for the fields, but seeing that the water here seemed cleaner than most of the water she had seen up to this moment, she decided to take a dip.

She looked as far as she could see in all directions, and then stripped off and washed herself as thoroughly as she could. She noted that her breasts were a good handful now, and she recalled Otto’s touch that last night.

She smiled wistfully. She missed him dreadfully and wondered where he was and what he was doing.

She was a little perturbed at her genitalia. Not really knowing what a vagina looked like, she was unaware that she was now the proud owner or a perfectly normal set of female reproductive organs. Indeed, the tummy pains she experienced, believing them to be due to either hunger or something she had eaten, were actually her ovaries ovulating for the first time.

Janine was a perfectly normal and fertile young woman. She was just a very late developer.

The sad thing was she didn’t realise it – yet!

She washed her short hair. Then, on a whim, she simply waded out naked into the chilly water and immersed herself totally. It was cold, but so refreshing.

She suddenly heard the sound of loud engines.

She peeped over the lip of the stream, to see four Sherman tanks advancing over the small field. There was a copse to one side and the canal to the other. She had nowhere to run, so she stayed in the water and hoped they’d pass her by.

They never arrived. The tanks kept going, obviously looking for a way to cross the canal.

She then saw the line of soldiers, as they advanced over the open land.

They were Americans, and, judging by the way they were shouting amongst each other, they knew they were winning.

The GI who first saw her, shouted and pointed. She grabbed her towel and wrapped it around herself. She was cold, but she stayed very still, and was aware that several had their weapons pointed at her. She hoped she didn’t look like a German spy.

By the time they came close, they could see that she was a naked woman, and an attractive one at that. The young GI who was closest to her came over, his M1 rifle was pointing at the ground.

He stood a little way off, and stared as if she was a mirage.

“Hi! What took you so long?” Janine asked, and he grinned.

“Hey, are you American?” he asked.

“No, but I speak good English.”

“Lootenant!” the man shouted.

A young officer, with a single bar on his epaulettes came over to her.

He was leafing through a small handbook, the US Army guidebook to Europe, with phrases for all occasions in several languages.

“It is all right, Lieutenant. I speak English. I was taking a wash and you caught me unawares. May I get dressed?” she asked.

Relief was very evident on his young face.

“Sure, of course,” he said, ordering the grinning GIs to turn away and give her some privacy to dress. This time discarding the corset arrangement and wore instead a bra, which she filled perfectly with no padding.

It was mid October, and although the days could get quite warm, the nights could get quite cold. She wore a vest over her bra, a full slip under a woollen dress, stockings and the lowest heeled shoes. She even put a little makeup on, feeling completely foolish, but it made her feel good.

She brushed her short hair back. It was quite wavy and she hoped it wasn’t too short. She put her headscarf over it and tied it off at the back. A crowd was gathering, and the young officer quickly dispersed his men to a less untidy skirmish line.

“Uh, what are you doing here, miss?” he asked, somewhat at a loss to know how to deal with her.

“I am trying to get away from the war, how about you?”

He smiled and the GI laughed so much, Janine thought he’d suffer a serious complaint.

“Have you any identification?”

She passed over her papers. He read them carefully.

“French, huh?”

“Oui.”

“Interpreter?”

“Oui.”

“You speak German, French and English?”

“Yes.”

“You worked with the French medical units and then taken by the Germans to do the same job. Did they treat you bad?”

“They didn’t rape me, and I was fed occasionally. By the way, you haven’t anything to eat, have you? I haven’t eaten in over four days!”

Within moments, she was inundated with chocolate, chewing gum, biscuits and even an apple. The crowd gathered again and the Lieutenant shouted for the wireless operator.

While the Lieutenant spoke on the radio, the GIs gathered round her and started to ask her questions about the Germans.

“Is it true they shoot their prisoners?”

“Do the SS really stand behind them and shoot anyone who leaves their positions?”

“Hey baby, doin’ anything tonight?”

To the last question, she laughed, and the man who asked it, a grizzled Sergeant, grinned at her. Most of the others were youngsters and had yet to see action, having been brought into the line as replacements quite recently. The sergeant had been here since D-Day and was under no illusions.

He cuffed the youngsters back to some semblance of order and they dispersed. Here was the real power within the platoon. The young lieutenant may have the rank, but the Sergeant had the experience and respect of everyone.

He sat down next to Janine and took out a huge cigar and stuck it into his mouth. He made no attempt to light it. After a moment he took it out and put it back in his pocket.

“Don’t you have a match?” she asked.

“Yeah, but I promised my buddy I’d light it when it was all over, or I was dying!”

She smiled.

“I take it your buddy is dead?”

He nodded.

“Yeah, this lousy war. It stinks!”

“I’ll drink to that,” she said, handing the Sergeant a small bottle that Otto had given her.

He looked questioningly at her.

“Cognac, I’m afraid. There is a distinct lack of Bourbon in occupied Europe.”

The man smiled at her, took a swig and passed it back. She took a mouthful and was immediately reminded of Otto. The sergeant saw her pain.

“Your man?” he asked.

She nodded. Surprised that she actually believed that he was.

“As I said, it stinks. That cognac is pretty good. Not as good as bourbon, but considering the location, pretty damn good.”

The Lieutenant returned.

“I have spoken to my HQ and you are to go to the rear immediately, ma’am. There are some security procedures, but I believe that they may well ask you whether you would be willing to undertake interpreting duties for the US army?” he asked, handing her papers back.

Janine smiled, if only Otto could see her now.

“Yes, it would be a pleasure,” she said.

“Permission to escort the lady, lootenant?” said the Sergeant.

The Lieutenant gave him a knowing look, so the Sergeant shrugged and smiled.

“It was worth a try. Nice to meet you, ma’am. Good luck.”

“And you. I hope you get to smoke that cigar under the better circumstances.”

“That makes two of us, lady.”

The young GI who had first seen the girl was detailed to escort her back to brigade HQ. He even carried her suitcase.

His name was Darren D. Davies, and Janine smiled at the proliferation of D’s.

He was just eighteen and from Illinois. He had been brought up on a farm and had never been out of state before being shipped out to Europe.

Although only a year or so older than the boy, Janine felt a lot older and wiser. As they walked to the rear, the boy seemed to forget he was a soldier, and slung his M1 rifle over his shoulder and talked to her as if he was taking a walk in the country with a girl.

He came from a completely alien culture, so Janine hardly understood anything he spoke about. Whether it was football or baseball, he did not have any conception of Europe or the centuries of culture that were hidden by the war.

After about half an hour, they arrived at the transport unit and she was handed over to an MP corporal who took her by jeep to the HQ.

As they bumped their way across the broken landscape, Janine saw the evidence of fierce fighting that had held up the relief of the Divisions at Arnhem. Broken tanks and trucks, some gutted by fire, other just crippled, lay everywhere. Medic units were removing the dead, and there was a greasy feeling to the air. She saw no birds and the only animal was a dead horse, its bloated body ripe and very smelly.

Finally, arriving at a large farm, the jeep came to a halt, and the MP took her case from the back and carried it into the house.

A captain approached her. He had an MP armband on his arm. The corporal saluted.

The captain dismissed him.

“Are you the lady interpreter that they came across at the front, ma’am?” he had a southern drawl.

“I suppose so. I’m Janine Chavanay,” she said, and handed over the papers that Otto supplied.

The man shook her hand, and she sat onto her case once more, as he looked through her papers.

He asked her various questions about her dealings with the Germans. It was obvious that he wanted to ascertain whether she was a collaborator, or just a forced conscript. She ensured that her answers were what he wanted to hear.

“Good. I’m Captain Chuck Brewster. We are having a real problem with the POWs. They are surrendering faster than we can document and screen them, and we need some help. I guess it’s been a while since your last meal, huh?”

“My last meal was some bread and acorn coffee about a week ago. I haven’t seen a bed in that time, and I’d kill for a proper shower or bath!” she said, wearily, but concentrating to maintain a French accent. It was hard work.

He looked at his watch.

“Okay. We are here for a day or so. I’ll see what I can do,” he left her and went looking for an orderly.

A PFC approached her.

“Excuse me, ma’am, are you the interpreter?”

“It appears that I may well be, yes.”

“If you could come with me, please. Captain Brewster has arranged for you to have a shower and then bed down on a spare cot in his quarters. Also I am to see you get some fatigues more suitable for the job,” he told her and then he picked up her case.

An hour later, she was on a small cot at the far end of a long room. The captain had his bed at the other end of the room, and the orderly had erected a blanket as a wall giving the girl some privacy. Having had a hot shower and some hot food, she was warm, dry and with a full belly, she went to sleep immediately.

She awoke with a start. It was pitch black, so for a second she was back in the cupboard. She screamed and a light went on.

The Captain was on his bed at the far end.

“Are you okay?”

“Sorry, I had a nightmare. I never used to be afraid of the dark. But recent experiences have started me off. It’s just I forgot where I was,” she said.

He was still in his uniform and he slung his legs over and approached her.

“May I enter?”

“Of course.”

He pulled the blanket back and came in. She was looking very young and vulnerable. Her short wavy hair made her look like an urchin. He thought she was very attractive and he felt a sexual urge. He quelled it almost immediately.

“I’m sorry about sharing, but this is all we have.”

“I have slept in a field for a week. This is luxury. I am sorry to have disturbed you.”

He smiled.

“I wasn’t asleep, and my reputation has just soared with the ORs.”

She smiled.

“You slept for thirteen hours straight.”

She smiled, as it had been the best sleep she had had in ages.

“You talk in your sleep. In English, French and German.”

“Anything interesting?”

He chuckled and sat on the small chair.

“I’m not sure. I only speak English. But there was a guy called Jamie, and the name Otto. Mean anything?”

She smiled.

“I knew a Jamie once, from Scotland. And Otto was one of the nice Germans.”

“Are there any?”

“Oh yes, but many are dead now. Like the nice French, English and Americans. This war is madness.”

“Sure, but it ain’t of our making.”

She shrugged and rubbed her head. She was reminded of her short hair and felt embarrassed. He was watching her closely.

“Why did you cut your hair?” he asked.

“Ease and lice. Long hair need so much work. I just didn’t have time. There are so many patients with parasites, it was easier to keep clean,” she replied.

“Your English is very good. Where did you learn it?”

Janine had been speaking with a slight French accent.

“I had neighbours with English relations. They came over every year and I was friendly with them, remember Jamie?”

Chuck Brewster smiled.

“Yeah.”

“Then I had a good teacher at school. She was English.”

“Is that a fact?”

She smiled.

“I’m sorry. You want to go back to sleep, no?” she asked.

“That’s okay. We’ll be getting up in an hour in any case.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. I was awake in any case.”

She smiled and he thought her very pretty.

“Are you sure?”

“No, but I’d hoped you’d feel better,” he said, grinning at her.

She smiled and realised she wasn’t going to get back to sleep. Chuck, recognising she was going to get up, left her alone and pulled the blanket back across the room.

She got up and put her underwear on. The fatigues she had been issued were of a much better quality than the German uniform. She was a civilian employed by the US Army, and was therefore entitled to wear female officer’s uniform without any rank insignia. The shirt was of a finer quality, and was cut for a female figure. She had also been issued with both trousers and a skirt. The trousers were tough and denim, as was the short jacket. The skirt was of a finer material. There were simple shoulder flashes with the word ‘Interpreter’ on the jacket and the shirt.

She slipped on the nice new stockings and shoes. She had decided that the skirt was of an advantage to her in such a male dominated environment. She teased her short hair into a feminine style, but was impatient for it to grow longer. It had been nearly two months since it had been cut, so was already far longer than any man’s style. However, after she had put on a little makeup, she was pleased that she looked as feminine as she did. No one could mistake her for a man; that was for sure.

She pulled on her German issued boots, as they were warm and fitted her so well.

Chuck Brewster took her to the mess tent for breakfast. She was amazed at the Americans’ logistics and supplies. The food was better than she had had back in England for the last two years, and such quantity. There was enough for everyone to have seconds. Yet she heard the American soldiers grumble and complain about everything.

Captain Brewster noticed her incredulity.

“They’ve never gone short of anything, ever,” he said.

She nodded.

“This is a feast,” she said, smiling.

He nodded at her fatigues.

“Everything fit?”

She grinned.

“More or less. I kept the old boots the Germans gave me, as they are so warm. I can’t believe your supply system, you seem to have everything you need and more.”

“Well, we like to plan for every eventuality. I’ll arrange for you to be moved into female quarters from now on, it is hardly appropriate you share my room.”

She nodded and concentrated on her food.

After breakfast, she was taken by jeep to a nearby village. In the school, there were bunks set up and around twenty American women, nurses and clerks for the most part, were housed there.

She was shown a bunk area in a converted classroom, and she found herself sharing with three other girls, all were American. They were all friendly, and very loud. They were all excited at being in Europe, and it was like a great adventure for them.

They were nurses in the nearby field Hospital, but all left for work before Janine could find out any more.

She left her battered old case in her room, and accompanied the driver back to the MP station. Captain Brewster was waiting for her.

“There is a holding area for POWs just up the road. We screen them and then send them back for further interrogation or to a proper POW camp. We are interested in any SS officers or party officials. Most of the Waffen SS are simply soldiers, but every now and again, we find members of different units pretending to be soldiers. There are the police units, the RKF, the WVHA, Totenkopf, the RHSA, the SD and the Gestapo. So we don’t half have our work cut out. What experience have you with the SS?” he asked.

“There were two Waffen SS divisions near Arnhem, and an SS police unit that was trying to fight the resistance. I had little dealings with the Waffen SS, as they were busy fighting the British at the time. But the police, mostly they were trying to get information from the POWs and wounded British soldiers in hospital.”

“What were they like?”

“Who, the Germans or the British?”

“The SS.”

“I didn’t trust the Police unit as a whole. They weren’t proper soldiers, not like the Waffen SS. One or two seemed all right. One was very disillusioned. He was a Waffen SS officer, but because he had been nearly killed in Russia and had a bad leg, he was given a desk job. I liked him, as he hated the whole Nazi thing, and Hitler particular.”

“Are you sure he wasn’t just saying that so you’d like him?”

Janine smiled and shook her head.

“No, he was seriously against the war. He will get himself into trouble, the way he talks.”

Captain Brewster was very thorough, going over her story time and time again. She kept it simple, never changing anything. At last he seemed satisfied.

They finished their breakfast, and Chuck took her to the briefing. The large tent was filled with about fifty officers and senior NCOs.

Chuck sat near the front, and Janine sat next to him. A tall Lieutenant Colonel entered with a Major. The Lt. Colonel was around fifty and looked like a policeman. The Major carried himself with more of a military bearing. He was around thirty and looked very tough.

“The colonel is Max Clifford, an ex LAPD Captain. His speciality is interrogating suspects. The major is Howard Keenan, and he is a West Point boy and wants to make Colonel by the end of hostilities. His speciality is being a pain in the ass!” Chuck whispered to Janine, who had to stifle a laugh.

“Okay, listen up,” said the Major, and the Colonel stood and waited for hush.

“Good morning gentlemen,” he said, and then saw Janine, the single female sitting in front of him. He frowned and then smiled at her.

“And the single little lady here at the front. I hope everyone has gotten settled, I am aware that things are in a bit of a state of flux. However, I am told that we shall be here for at least four weeks. The sheer number of POWs is going to test our resolve to the limit, but it is imperative that we screen them accurately at this time, before they manage to get lost in the POW system back behind our lines.

“The Krauts want to hide any suggestion of war crimes, but we need to hold those bastards to account for some real bad things. We are sure to get the whole picture by the end, so it is important that we catch anyone who is not a simple soldier at this point.

“Logistically, it is a damn tough job, so we are grateful for all the help we get. Whether it is in the form of civilian interpreters, or supply, or transportation. We trained to screen fifty a day. We are going to have to deal with at least two fifty a day, just to keep up. If there is a major advance, we may see the POWs treble in a day. I want to be able to send back at least three hundred a day, so that way we may be able to revise things in a week or so.

“Are there any questions?”

There were and he answered them. Once they dried up, the Colonel dismissed the men to their tasks. He approached Janine, who stood as he came up to her.

“Ma’mselle, j'aimerais à merci pour nous aider.” he said, with a terrible accent.

“It is a pleasure, Colonel,” she replied in her faultless, but slightly accented English.

He grinned.

“I learned French years ago, but never got to use it. Now I can, we were so damn fast, we left France before I could get any better. Nice to meet you, Janine, isn’t it?”

She shook his proffered hand.

“Yes, Janine Chavanay. You have no idea how good it is to be among friends at last.”

“Chuck told me a little of your story. I understand the Krauts forced you to do the same sort of thing as we are expecting you to do?”

“Yes. Only the atmosphere is far nicer over here,” she said with a smile and the men laughed.

She was taken to the series of tents and in one, she found a set up not dissimilar to the German interview rooms had been created. She was given a pen and a questionnaire, and set to work under Chuck’s close supervision initially.

After the sixth German prisoner, he smiled and left her alone, satisfied that she knew what she was doing. There was an urn of hot coffee on the go in the corner, and there were about ten others in the same tent, all screened off from each other.

The coffee was so much better that the acorn substitute the Germans were drinking, and she was permitted to offer the prisoners a cup, if it would help build a rapport.

She was given mostly young NCOs and junior ranking officers. The questions were simplistic, designed to catch only the foolish or unaware. She was permitted to ask anything she felt relevant, so there were spaces at the end for her to record these extra questions.

The Germans were all subdued and rarely showed the Master Race attitude, for which they were renowned. Mostly they were tired and very worried about their future, and that of whatever family they had somewhere in Germany.

Janine didn’t allow herself to feel sorry for them, as she remembered the streams of British prisoners sent to a far more uncertain fate than these boys. For the most part, they were little more than boys. Teenagers, who should be having the time of their lives.

Instead, they, and thousands like them, were destined to be scarred for life, and whose memories of childhood and young adult years would be dominated by war and suffering.

Janine lost herself in her work. By the end of the first week she had impressed the Captain and, in turn, the colonel, with her intelligence and efficiency. Her completed questionnaires had her additional questions recorded, and upon examining them, the Colonel added them to the official list. As a result, several low ranking party officials and SS officers with something to hide were uncovered and sent to the OSS unit for further questioning.

Janine didn’t mix much with the other girls in her billet. Not because she didn’t want to, but because they worked shifts that meant they were not around at the same time she was. They were friendly, but while they didn’t consciously shut her out of their conversations, she found she had nothing in common with them. Shet listened to their conversations with interest.

She didn’t mind not making friends, as to keep telling untruths was tiring and dangerous. She had to be so careful with what tales she told, as any one of them could uncover her lies if she made a single mistake.

Captain Brewster was nice to her, obviously wanting to be much nicer. She played it cool and didn’t encourage the man. She knew he was married, so she made no bones about reminding him whenever he started hinting at becoming more than friends.

The unit moved southeast and was now lying behind the US 4th Army. POWs were coming in steadily as the Allied slowly advanced. Despite everyone knowing that the war was as good as lost, still the Germans fought for every hedge and field. By using some of the German beach defences bolted onto the front of the tanks, the Allies found a way for cutting through the hedges, and accelerated their advance.

Janine found herself in a room in another school, sharing with different nurses from another medical unit. She had rehearsed her ‘life-story’ so often she half believed it herself now.

One November morning, after a serious rainstorm, she awoke feeling really rough. On getting up, she discovered spots of blood on her nightdress.

She almost panicked, but then recalled one girl swearing about getting the curse a couple of days earlier.

She did a little investigating, and her initial panic gave way to wonder and then to alarm. She was confused as to how it had managed to happen, but she was alarmed as to what to do about it.

She went to the lavatory, and cleaned herself off as best as possible. While she was there, one of the other girls, Maryanne, came in. She glanced at Janine and smiled.

“It really is a little mean bastard, isn’t it? Have you everything you need?”

Janine shrugged.

“Not really. I should have thought, but it sort of caught me unawares,” she said. Talk about an understatement, she thought.

“No problem, I’ll get you what you need!” Maryanne said, disappearing to return a few moments later and, much to Janine’s relief, was able to help her in ways she never believed she would need.

She went through that day in a bit of a daze.

She had rather reconciled the fact that she wasn’t a male any more. She had even accepted that perhaps she never really had been, not properly. However, now she was bleeding and seemed perfectly normal compared with the other girls she had seen in the showers, she found it hard to accept that not only was she a normal female, but a normal FERTILE female.

Funnily enough, her first thought was of Otto. She smiled as she remembered his earnest attempts to try to get her to safety. Even to the extent of him deserting or marrying her.

She wondered where he was and whether he was still thinking of her. She found that she missed him.

since 08/16/05