Prisoners of War on the run in Nazi Germany. A journey of self discovery never had this many Panzer divisions hot on their heels...

A tale of War, of love, and of friendship. (And a few Nazis)

Harry opened the door slowly, nervously inching her head forward of her body as if to catch sight of the others sooner. Andrew Matheson was stood with his back to her on the far side of the room reading a document, otherwise the room was mercifully empty.

“I’m finished,” Harry called apprehensively, uncertain of the reaction she would receive.

Andrew Matheson had used his time productively and was dressed from head to toe in the uniform of a Luftwaffe Major; the uniform fitted him smartly and made a stark contrast to the image of his scruffy, torn Navy uniform that Harry was so used to. Even his unruly black hair had been slicked back with wax sharpening his image and giving him a visible air of authority. On hearing his friend’s voice, Andrew turned crisply, and was momentarily struck dumb by the sight that befell his eyes.

“I’m not sure what I expected you know,” Matheson admitted slowly, almost with a hint of admiration. “I had a fair Idea you might pull it off somewhat but…. Jesus Harry.” He said, gesturing embarrassedly towards his friend as if to express his feelings on the subject.

Harry blushed and looked down at her feet. “I look stupid don’t I?” she asked shyly, finding it difficult to hide the obvious tone of disappointment in her voice.

Matheson blinked before shaking his head vigorously, “My god no… no, you look… Well, it’s hard to say politely,” he grinned sheepishly. “I think you look smashing, I just didn’t expect you to look so… natural I suppose,” he added, crinkling his brow. “Sorry, that came out wrong.”

Harry lifted her head and smiled weakly, “Thank you.” She offered quietly, a crimson tinge growing on her cheeks, “Please don’t be sorry; I understand, I think... Well, I’m not sure if even I understand this… or expected to look this way. I don't really know what to think,” she trailed off quietly shrugging her shoulders.

Matheson nodded. “Well it certainly solves our identification problem, and looking the way you do, It gives us another ace up our proverbial sleeve... Nobody’s going to clock we’re a group of escaping allied airmen...” he laughed nervously.

Harry flinched slightly at the last word Andrew Matheson used, but kept her mouth closed. “Where are the others?” she asked quietly in an attempt to fill the awkward silence that had descended, her eyes scanning the room for the rest of the group in almost an afterthought.

Matheson lit a liberated German cigarette and lent back against a desk, “Off collecting a few items we need. The other prisoners have mostly scarpered, so no worry of being shot for wearing these Jerry uniforms.”

Harry nodded quietly, “What’s next?”

Matheson took a drag on his cigarette and exhaled before responding, “We take the Staff Car and Jeep we've rustled up, and we make our way north, to the main road, and we take it from there. We need to put distance between ourselves and the camp as soon as possible and make best speed for neutral territory. I’ll tell you the fine details once we’re all back together.” he added tapping his nose conspiratorially.

Maddox and Down returned at that moment, “Boss, we’re ready to go when you are. Is Dolton back yet?” Apparently unnoticed in the corner, Harry decided to bite the bullet and coughed lightly, drawing Maddox's gaze to the far corner of the room causing the man to jump and raise his submachine gun sharply. “Who’s the fraulein boss?” Maddox asked narrowing his eyes and watching Harry's movements extremely carefully.

An expression of fear crossed Harry’s face and she raised her hands nervously, unable to find her voice.

“What are we going to do with her Andrew? Maddox asked lowering his weapon, but keeping his guard up. “We can't well leave her, but can we take her with us?”

“Well,” Matheson said pointedly, sighing, “I was going to suggest we take her with us and all... Give us slightly more camouflage than a group of all men in an area with a POW camp breakout... Less likely to suspect us as a group.”

Matheson nodded, “Good plan, Will she play ball?”

“Oh yes.” Matheson agreed nodding.

Hamley walked back into the room at that moment, “I don't know how these bloody Krauts manage this in the heat.” He muttered pulling at the collar of the slightly too tight grey wool tunic, “These uniforms are bloody hot.”

Heads up Paddy,” Down called, “We have a prisoner.”

Hamley looked across the room and spotted the object of discussion.

“I thought those idiots killed them all?” The Irishman asked with a hint of disgust. “What are you going to do with her?”

“That's what we're discussing old chap.” Matheson replied casually. “I think it would be a bit of an idea to use her as a distraction for any roadblocks till we reach the Swiss boarder.”

“I don't like it... What happens if she decides to drop us in it with her Kraut buddies?” Down asked, frowning sceptically.

“Won't be a problem,” Matheson said smiling. “She wants to get back to England as bad as the rest of us.”

“You what?” Maddox asked frowning. “She'd be a prisoner of war then... Ours are no better than this holiday camp if I'm honest.” The Navy pilot added raising his eyebrows.

Matheson could barely suppress a chuckle, “No she won't,” he said carefully. “She's a serving officer in the RAF.”

“Man you're confusing me.” Down sighed shaking his head. “You Limeys and your weird logic.”

“Harry, let them in on the joke won't you?” Matheson asked turning to their silent comrade.

Harry blushed scarlet as all eyes in the room focused on her.

“That's Harry?” Hamley asked incredulously. “Harry Dolton...?” He asked staring wide eyed at Harry.

Harry nodded self-consciously.

“I'll be damned.” Maddox muttered. “You bloody had me going there Andy.”

“It was my idea to use the identity papers and clothes from the dead Jerry woman.” Matheson offered holding his hands up in submission, “I figure if sh... he's good enough to fool you bunch, the Jerries won't have a clue. Which means my plan will work.”

“You think dressing him up as a Fraulein is going to help us to escape occupied Europe?” Down asked sceptically. “I mean, he looks the part... but that's a bit of an odd one isn't it?” he added looking across at Harry. “You look far too convincing like that... Was this really Matheson's idea, or are you a bit queer?”

“Stop right there...” Matheson interjected angrily. “Harry is taking the biggest risk here... If he's captured, you know what would happen...” Andrew allowed the sobering conclusion to hang for a moment before continuing. “I suggested this, Harry reluctantly agreed. If you hadn't noticed, we have only five sets of Identification documents to choose from, and He has the best chance of pulling off this little ruse. If anything, he's got a bigger pair than you Down.” Matheson added tersely.

“Too right,” Down admitted grudgingly, “But which pair are you talking about?” He added grinning at his own joke.

“Those do look rather real from this distance.” Maddox agreed peering at Harry's cleavage. “What did you do to get it to look like that?” He asked stepping forwards for a closer look. Harry backed up quickly and shrugged dismissively. “Oh, some clever make-up, I was always picked for the leading lady in school... you know how it is...” Harry waved gesturing at her height. “Remembered a few bits, and anyway, I don't fancy spending time in another POW camp in this uniform, so I. Figured I'd best make a good job of it.” she lied finally finding her voice.

“I'm certainly convinced,” Peter Maddox agreed, “I'll be damned if I can tell and I know who you are...” he added frowning slightly. “Darn good job.”

“Aye, no debate the lad looks like a lass at the moment,” Hamley shrugged, “And that's right strange enough, But how can he convince them he is one? Behave like a lady and whatnot.” Hamley added with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Its one thing to look like a lass, but if he wanders around like a scrum half, he's going to draw attention to us. The wrong sort.”

Andrew Matheson thought for a moment, “Point taken, but, as Harry said, he was a bit of a Thespian... and from the sound of it, this isn't his first cameo in skirts, I'm sure he can manage to fool a few Krauts.”

Hamley nodded and agreed.

“So are we a go?” Matheson interjected, drawing the group's attention back to himself.

“We have uniforms, weapons, transport, and money... “I suggest we make best speed for the land of Clocks and Chocolate chaps.”

* * *

While not ostentatious, the staff car Harry rode in with Matheson and Maddox was a far more comfortable and pleasurable way to travel through the winding bumpy German country lanes. Looking out of the window as they drove, Harry began to reflect on the situation she now found herself in. The minor issue of the war removed from the picture, she began to wonder just how she felt about her present circumstances. The group had been traveling for the better part of a day since leaving the ruins of the camp. During their flight, the group had treated her with thinly veiled curiosity confusion and trepidation, as though she were an unexploded bomb. On the whole, the men had been unable to stop themselves from treating her as the woman she appeared to be, despite their own knowledge to the contrary. Often, the very awareness that they were treating her that way, even in the privacy of their own company, seemed to confuse them even more.

Harry/Maria sighed to herself as she watched the hedgerows fly past from the window. This day had done more to unravel her feelings than secure them as she had so hoped. Her self-doubt brought to the forefront of her mind by her accident and the subsequent changes she had experienced, were now very much her life. She knew that before she reached England, and sanctuary, she would have to first win the battle of her heart. One part of her enjoyed the treatment, and the reflection she had seen in the mirror. Another part of her told her this was wrong and sinful, regardless of how right it felt. Though not overly religious herself, she was positive that it shouldn't feel so right. The calmness that had swept her body in the weeks following the accident, and the subsequent changes that made her the target of less than civil treatment in the camp now presented themselves in a new advantageous light. Try as she might, she could only balance the scales of her mind, unable to truly tip them in favour of either viewpoint. With a sigh, Harry tried to force the notion from her mind for a short while and simply live.

* * *

It was nine o'clock in the evening before the traces of dusk in the sky encouraged the group to seek accommodation for the night. Masquerading as they were, the option of camping out of sight, as sensible as it seemed, presented far too many risks; should they be happened upon by soldiers or civilians alike, the likelihood of explaining why German military personnel were hiding in the forests of the Fatherland. Choosing instead to hide in plain sight, the group pulled into the yard of a small tavern and sent Harry into the tavern to enquire about rooms for the night.

Walking to the door, Harry steeled herself to slip fully into the role she had chosen. For better or worse, their escape from occupied Europe would depend partly, if not entirely on her ability to throw their hunters off their scent. Nowhere was it more important than here, their first interaction with the German people. Closing the door behind her, Maria Horler removed her field cap and swept her eyes over the room before her. Mercifully, the room was mostly empty, save a handful of patrons dotted around the various booths and stools. A radio by the bar was playing a faceless swing track piped fresh from the dance halls of Berlin. The bored looking bar girl was leaning on her elbows on the bar counter and looked up from the book she was reading as she heard Harry approach.
(Italic text speech in German)
“Good evening, Do you have any rooms available?” Harry asked with a slightly exasperated smile on her lips, and nervous butterflies in her stomach.

“Uh, Ja, I think so, one moment please.” The girl offered flipping through a large leather-bound book beside her on the bar counter.

“I… Yes we do,” she confirmed looking up at Harry with a grin. “Is it just for you?”

“Nein.” Harry replied, shaking her head, “There is my Major and three other men also.”

“Yes, I think we have five rooms free.” The girl added checking her book, “There is not much tourism these days really.” She offered with a sardonic smile.

“I know what you mean.” Harry sighed wistfully as she glanced around the traditional Bavarian design of the tavern, thinking how nice it might have been to be here for another reason, in a different time. Turning back to the woman she nodded sharply, “We will take the rooms for the night, and breakfast please.”

“No problem,” replied the girl as she scribbled in the book before looking up at Harry. The girl looked at her for a moment before smiling and speaking with a playful tone “I expect you do this a lot.” she added conspiratorially, a sly smile on her lips..

Harry balked as she tried to understand what the young German woman had meant. Had she seen through her masquerade? Was she having fun at her expense? Seeing Harry’s confused expression the German girl giggled to herself before explaining; “I meant run errands for the men outside,” she added rolling her eyes. “They still find a way to make you do everything for them ja?”
Harry sighed with silent relief before effecting a regretful air, “Life does not change, even in the Luftwaffe.” she shrugged with her own smile.

“It never will.” The girl agreed shrugging and going back to her book.

Turning and making her way back to the door, Harry allowed the breath she had been holding to escape. As difficult as the situation could have been, she had made it apparently undetected, and by another woman no less. No, she mentally reminded herself, by a woman. The strange façade she presented was merely a result of circumstance and disguise: As she returned to her comrades, she tried to convince herself that she meant it.

* * *

It was late in the evening, and Harry was still very much awake. She had changed into a nightgown she had thrown into the case in her hurry to pack up the possessions of her namesake. At first, stepping into a dead woman's life felt strange and morbid to Harry, but the more she thought about it, the more she realised that She had Maria Horler to thank and celebrate. Had it not been for the woman's death, she might not have had the chance to experience life. She would find a way to pay the woman back for the opportunity, even if she was still unsure of the complete meaning at this time...

Harry put down her book, unable to recover her mindset after such deep thought. Slipping off the bed, she began to rummage through the belongings in the case at the foot of the bed. Aside from the motley collection of clothes and under garments, there were a few personal items. The make-up case she had packed, and toiletry items, along with a small Photograph album. Sitting cross-legged on the floorboards, Harry began to leaf through the pictures in the album. What she saw began to tug on her heartstrings from the first moment she realised who she was looking at: As she turned the pages, Harry watched as an infant Maria grew, amongst her family and friends, and developed into the young woman she had found bloodied and cold on the floor. The photographs showed a vibrant happy young woman, full of life and love that would never reach fruition thanks to the callous action of a spiteful prisoner. Harry felt tears rolling down her cheeks as she looked at the photographs in the small book. Such a small item, but so powerful she mused. The powerful emotions welling up inside her were overpowering, forcing her to close the book and set it to one side before she found herself in an uncontrollable fit of tears. Harry thought back to her promise to thank Maria for her gift of life and changed her mind. She would not merely thank Maria, for she owed the woman far more than mere thanks could ever compensate. She vowed instead to live the life that Maria could not, to find happiness and joy, and contentment in whatever form it was presented. If that was as a woman, so be it.

Note from the Authory person:
Well.... Its been a while hasn't it? I'm awfully sorry for leaving everyone in the lurch, but I've had a lot on my plate with that terribly distracting 'real life'. Work, work and more work... Starting a career is never simple... and Festival season isn't the easiest season of work... I hope you'll forgive me, and I hope you enjoy this chapter, (its taken about 20 edits to get myself happy with it, so I hope its satisfactory.

As for posting only complete things as people seem to want... Tough, this will come in segments, as its ongoing, however, Focal Point will not be posted till it is finished, (a few weeks now I think.) And there WILL, I say again, WILL, be a removal, revision, and reposting of The Road to Haifa, complete and unabridged, with conclusion. :)
How's that?
Love
Alyssa xxx