by Tanya Allan
It is September 1944, Jamie Cameron is a young British army officer trapped behind enemy lines at Arnhem in the Netherlands. Forced to hide in a cupboard as the Waffen SS wipe out his unit, he then has to make some hard decisions as to how best to evade the enemy and return to Allied lines. The problem is that only female attire is in the house in which he is hiding.
However, Jamie himself unwittingly holds a secret of which even he is unaware, which may help, or hinder his plans. Jamie ventures into a harsh world controlled by the SS who are being forced to retreat as the Allies press inexorably towards the Fatherland. Initially his disguise holds, but one young disillusioned German officer begins to take a particular interest in the young French ‘girl’. Posing as a French girl, Janine Chavanay, Jamie struggles to work as an interpreter for the SS, and even has to document British soldiers from his old unit. Fearful of exposure, his already complex life is further complicated when the German Officer falls in love with Janine.
As Janine’s body changes to come into line with her adopted gender, Janine ceases to see herself as Jamie, as a male, or really as British. All the edges become blurred, as she struggles to deal with her personal difficulties and the small matter of the Second World War. Pitched to fend for herself by the Germans, she faces an even greater task, to return to the Allied lines and meet her father. Will he come to terms with the loss of a son and the gain of a daughter?
It doesn’t help that he is Major General William Cameron.
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Author's Note:
This novel is set in the Second World War, and deals with certain issues on a personal level. The war and historical fact is simply a backdrop, and should be seen in that light.
It was never my intention to make excuses for, or in any way condone barbaric and brutal treatment of any people group by the Nazi regime. This story is of a small group of individuals who struggle with their own personal demons, while the world still turns. War turns people into victims or survivors. This story deals with a survivor.
Historically, I have attempted to set events as accurately as possible, and mention is made of a few actual key figures for the purposes of realism.
This is a work of fiction, so please treat it as such, and any similarities to persons, alive or dead, are purely coincidental.
I am aware that certain events were unlikely due to factual, procedural or cultural standards of the era, but, hey, it’s just a story.
It is not my intention to pretend that this story is REAL, just REALISTIC.
For ease of reading, when a mix of other languages are spoken by the characters, italics will be used for short comments. Longer conversations will be in normal print The few times that German or French are actually written, there will be a translation available, or it will be so obvious as not need it.
Originally written in 2004, revised in 2008.
The Legal Stuff: Fortune's Soldier ©2004, 2008 Tanya Allan
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. Any commercial use by anyone other than the author is strictly prohibited.
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.
Chapter 5
The days rolled into a week, October came, and soon she had been working for the Germans for a month. She found Otto a reasonable man and his attitude towards the three thousand British prisoners was actually very humane. Their intelligence gathering operation was a farce and, after Jamie had sat face to face with men she knew quite well, and not a glimmer of recognition had crossed their faces, she realised that she had changed quite a lot.
Every night she crashed out, exhausted, and slept better than she had for years. Every night she felt her changing body, and was now resigned to the fact that she was definitely never to be a male again.
Someone banged on her door and Jamie was instantly awake.
Confused for several seconds, she gradually remembered where she was.
“Ja?” she said.
“The Obersturmbannfuehrer’s compliments. He wants you and all other officers in the conference room in thirty minutes,” said a male voice.
She looked at her watch.
Six-thirty.
“Shit!” she said, quietly.
“Danke!” she said for the man at the door.
She washed and dressed. The beard was still absent and her legs were still clear of hair. Her breasts were very tender this morning, and so much larger that she no longer needed any enhancement to appear a normal shape.
She arrived at the conference centre with three minutes to spare.
Otto came over to her and handed her a mug of coffee and a bread roll.
“I thought you could do with some sustenance,” he said with a smile.
She smiled and gratefully accepted his offering.
“What’s this all about?”
“Methinks the Obersturmbannfuehrer is getting windy. The Allies are making steady progress and he will be announcing that we would be better placed back in Germany.”
He immediately saw the disconcertion and alarm fleet across her pretty face.
“Don’t you want to go to Germany?” he whispered.
She looked at him, and then around at anyone who may be listening. Seeing no one, she shook her head.
“No problem. Let’s just see,” he said, and smiled at her.
There was a sudden silence as the Obersturmbannfuehrer made his entrance. He walked to the end of the room and told everyone to sit. A couple of young officers were late and he glared at them.
“As you know, we defeated a concerted attack by the British and prevented them from taking the bridge at Arnhem. However, our intelligence sources report that a major offensive will be focussed at this area in the very near future, so I have decided to withdraw the SS police units to allow the Waffen SS Divisions to take up defensive positions.
“We will be moving in three days, so screen as many of the POWs as you can, and then we will move. Excess equipment and locally recruited personnel are to be left behind. Only the bare essentials are needed if we are to maintain our normal levels of efficiency.
“My thanks to all who have worked so well over the last few weeks, they have been a trying time for us all.”
The Obersturmbannfuehrer made for Otto.
“Otto, I have read your report on this delightful young lady. It seems you have a way with our gallant enemies, my dear.”
“I just did what I was told to do, sir.”
“Quite. I leave it up to you, Otto. If you want to bring her along, then do so. Otherwise make sure she is well looked after.” Willi said, and nodded at Jamie.
He then left the room.
“Bastard!” breathed Otto.
Jamie was confused. Everything she had been told about the Germans, and the SS in particular, did not apply to Otto. He loathed the SS and the Nazis, despite the fact that at one time he had believed in Hitler and his message for the future. Mind you, such had been the deep depression that many Germans had believed in the man.
She also found herself liking Otto, and frowned as she realised just how much.
“Come on, let’s get out of here,” he said, and took her arm.
They went to his office, where he opened a bottle of cognac.
He poured her a glass as well.
“Here, get some warmth into you.”
She drank the fiery liquid and experienced the warmth spread across her tummy.
“Do you want to come with me?” he asked.
She was confused, as she found that actually wanted to be with him. She didn’t want to go deeper into Germany. However, he had put it as a personal question, to go with ‘him’, not with ‘us’!
“I want to go home,” she said, in all honesty.
He nodded. “So do I,” he admitted and poured another measure into his glass. He held the bottle up to her, and she shook her head.
“If I could, I’d like to hang up this fucking uniform and walk away. I can’t, but you can.”
She nodded.
“Think about it. The Allies have won, the wonderful Fuhrer is finished, only he will fight to the last good German, while all the Nazi shits will run away to South America and hide with their stolen gold. We will leave in a couple of days. Stay here, so when the allies arrive, just offer your services to them. Who knows, you might even have to interview me when they capture me,” he said with a humourless laugh.
Jamie nodded.
“Mind you, home is not where we thought it was. Where is home for you, Janine?”
She looked at him.
He was right. Home wasn’t where she thought it was. With a father who wouldn’t understand and a society for whom she would always be a freak.
“I’m not really sure,” she replied.
“Me neither.”
“I think it will be wherever I make it,” she announced.
He smiled.
“Until then, we need to get back to work. Come on,” Otto said.
They spent the next two days doing the same task. A seemingly endless line of British faces came and went. One, a Captain, was Jamie’s company commander, and even he did not recognise the attractive German girl who asked him questions.
As she had been speaking German constantly over the last four weeks, her skills had improved dramatically. So much so that she sounded more German, so most people with whom she came into contact believed she was German.
On the third evening, she lay in bed, once more feeling the strange things that seemed to be happening to her genitals. She wanted to be a girl more than anything now, but was still uncertain what was happening to her. The swell of her breasts were even more pronounced so, as she cupped her hands around them, she could no longer deny the realities of what was going on.
She had packed her clothes, except the uniform, leaving out the dress she had worn that first day. She couldn’t sleep. She was very restless and worried. Three things worried her.
The first was her body. She didn’t know what was happening, but there was no one to whom she could turn for help and advice.
The second was her predicament. She was ready to be ‘let free’ but had no idea what to do. If she was becoming female, who in hell would believe her if she turned up and said she was a Second Lieutenant in the Cameron Highlanders?
The third was more complex. She found herself drawn to Otto. He was an enemy soldier, and a man. She was reluctant to say goodbye to him, as she actually liked him as a friend, and as someone with whom she could smile and laugh.
Over the last few weeks, they had become closer, and Jamie did not understand what was taking place.
On the first floor of the same building, Otto paced the floor in his room.
He too was in a quandary.
For the first time since the death of the nurse Maria, he had actually found a girl who made him feel there was hope for the world. Now he was about to lose her again.
Ever since Janine had walked into his life, it was as if the sun had come out after a long and bleak winter. Her smile warmed him and her lovely eyes made him almost cry out in joy. He ground out his last cigarette and made a decision. He opened his door and looked right and left. Then he went to the stairs and rapidly descended to her floor.
Jamie was just dozing off when the slightest tap came from the door. At first, she thought it was her imagination.
Then it came again.
She got out of bed, her heart in her mouth, but all the while hoping against dreading who it must be. She checked her hair and made sure the wig was secure.
She opened the door.
Otto stood there, with a bottle of cognac and two glasses.
“I knew you’d be awake!” he said and entered the room.
She closed the door.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, but secretly very pleased.
“I couldn’t just leave you without saying goodbye,” he said, pouring the cognac into the glasses.
She took the glass he offered without comment.
He held up his glass.
“To the future, to you,” he said.
“The future!” she repeated and drank some of the brandy.
“Seriously, why did you come?”
“Because I wanted to see you before we part,” he said, putting his glass down. He took two paces across the room and took both her hands.
“You are trembling,” he observed.
“I’m confused,” she admitted.
“Why?”
“Lots of things. You wouldn’t understand.”
“I want to understand. I want to get to know you so much better,” he said, lifting her hands to his lips. He kissed her fingers and she felt a strange feeling start in her belly and take possession of her.
Tears of frustration came to her eyes and he watched as they rolled down her cheek.
He let go of one hand, catching a tear on his index finger, and lifting it to his mouth.
“Why do you cry?”
She shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do. Tell me!”
She looked up at him. His grey eyes were warm and tender.
“I think it is because everything seems against me. I want to do the right thing, but every time, something happens to take me deeper into the shit!” she said and he chuckled.
“Janine, I think I have fallen in love with you,” he said.
She said nothing, but more tears came to her eyes.
“Now I have to leave you behind, I feel totally lost and that’s very unlike me. I know we only met a short while ago, but I find myself thinking of you every waking moment,” he told her.
The tears were rolling quickly now he took her in his arms. He stood beside her so she wrapped her arms around his neck and sobbed into his shoulder. He just held her.
He kissed the nape of her neck and, before she realised what was happening, he was cupping a full breast, gently rolling one nipple between finger and thumb.
Experiencing strange and wonderful feelings for the first time, she drew away from him, folding her arms across her chest. She was terrified of exposure and of what she was now feeling.
“Don’t!” she said, and looked at him with such a worried expression that he immediately felt guilty.
“I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to take advantage of you.”
She nodded and tried to smile. It didn’t work.
“Look, Janine. I’d never hurt you. I do love you and I want to protect you. I am willing even to desert for you, if that would keep you safe.”
Her eyes widened in surprise.
“I’d die for you!” he said.
She shook her head.
“No, you can’t. You don’t understand!”
She started to cry again, unsure why she was feeling as she was. He took her in his arms and just held her. She allowed him to, nestling her head onto his shoulder.
The sobs wracked her body and he could feel her through the thin nightdress. He was feeling sexually aroused, yet he knew that if he tried to force himself on her he would kill any chance of a future.
Her breasts, although not large, were firm and rounded, and he wanted her to want him as much as he desired her.
The sobs subsided and she broke away from him and went to her bathroom and washed her face. She stared at the stranger who looked back at her from the mirror.
She actually did want him, but knew that she could never let that happen.
She was confused and shocked at the feelings he invoked in her. He was an enemy soldier, she kept telling herself.
She went back into the bedroom and he watched her from the bed.
“I won’t have sex with you!” she announced, bluntly.
He nodded and smiled.
“I didn’t expect you to,” he said.
That surprised her, a little.
“Not for the reasons you think. It is just there are too many complications. I can’t bring more into my life right now,” she said.
He patted the bed.
“Come and sit down. I promise I won’t try anything. It has just been a very long time since I was in a bedroom with a beautiful woman.”
She sat down and he took her hand.
“Janine, I’m so sorry that I got so physical. I just find you irresistible and I admit I really desire you. But not at the cost of ruining any chance I have of getting closer to you.”
She smiled.
“Otto. I like you, and in other circumstances, I expect we could be so much more than friends. Here and now, it’s just not possible. If things are meant to be, then perhaps fate will bring us together again. Give me another brandy, and stop me crying like a schoolgirl.”
He chuckled and poured her another brandy.
They drank in silence.
He watched her, sensing the inner turmoil she was going through.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.
She smiled and shook her head.
“No. I can’t!”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Both. If I could, I wouldn’t.
“Why not?”
She laughed. “I can’t tell you that either.”
“A lady of so many secrets,” he said, and smiled.
“Shit! This is such a mess,” she said in English.
He frowned.
“So, who are you, Janine, really?”
“Really? I don’t know myself. I’m the product of what happens when someone fucks themselves,” she said, slurring her words.
Otto realised that she wasn’t used to fine cognac.
He took the glass from her hand and kissed her on the mouth.
She drew away and then smiled.
“You said you wouldn’t. You lied to me.”
He smiled.
“You’ve drunk too much,” he told her.
She nodded.
“Yes, but I am so fucked up, it makes no difference.”
“Why are you fucked up, Janine?”
“Because I don’t know who I am anymore. Am I Janine? Am I someone else? I don’t know. Am I French? German? British? Does it matter? Where the fuck can I go now? Answer me that, Mr Big-shot-soldier, where do I go now and who the hell wants me?” she said, tears starting again.
Otto suddenly thought he knew what was troubling the girl. She was a person without a home. The war had taken her home, so now she had nowhere to return to. She had no friends, no family, and no real hope.
“I want you,” he said.
“So, what fucking good is that? Tomorrow you’ll be gone and then what? The British and fucking Americans in their new tanks will come along and the whole thing starts again. I’ve had enough. I’ve just about worked out who the fuck I am, and I find that no bugger will want me.”
He was quite shocked at her language and again at the fluency at swearing in German.
“I will stay with you.”
“Don’t be stupid. Your own side will have no compunction about shooting you, and in that fucking uniform so will the Allies.”
“Come with us.”
“To Germany?”
“Yes.”
“No way. Look, I may be mad and fucked up. I may even be a little drunk, but I am not that fucking mad.”
“Why not?”
“Because Germany is fucked!”
“I agree, but at least we could have a life together.”
“Rubbish. You’ll get shot and I’ll be raped by a regiment of Highlanders.”
He chuckled. She was certainly entertaining when drunk.
“Then what do we do?” he asked.
“We? I intend to offer my services to the glorious allies and see what happens,” she said, and then went quiet.
“Otto?”
“Ja?”
“I, … I don’t want to lose you,” she said, in a small voice.
He wrapped his arm around her shoulder.
“Neither do I.”
Jamie awoke when someone banged on her door.
“Oh-six-hundred.”
She sat up in alarm and so did Otto.
She stared at him. They had slept together. He was still wearing his trousers, but had lost his shirt.
“Shit!” she said, and ran for the bathroom.
Otto smiled and reached for his cigarettes, only to find he had run out. He swore and looked for his shirt.
Jamie stared at her reflection.
She tidied her hair up and then washed her face. She had a splitting headache and remembered the cognac.
She sat on the lavatory and had a pee. She discovered that her small opening was a little larger and her breasts seemed even fuller today, if that were possible.
“I really am turning into a woman,” she said to her reflection and, despite all her reservations and concerns, she managed to smile.
She came out and found Otto gone. She dressed in a plain dress and packed everything into her case. She went down to the lobby to find chaos everywhere. People were scurrying to and fro, as the SS were on their way home, so a huge bonfire was going for all non-essential files.
Otto found her staring around.
“How are you this morning?”
She smiled. “Just as fucked up, with a headache and still with no plans,” she said.
“I meant what I said.”
“I didn’t. I think you got me drunk. You didn’t do anything, did you?” she asked.
He smiled. “I was tempted, but somehow your first time is better when conscious.”
She went red.
“Seriously, I do love you.”
She nodded. “Yes, I know.”
“I need to know, is there any hope?”
She looked into his grey eyes and saw anguish that mirrored what she felt.
“There’s always hope, Otto, if fate finds a way, then we will have a future.”
“Can you ever love me?” he asked.
“Probably. I think I do already, but now is hardly an ideal time to soul-search.”
He smiled.
“Join me for a farewell breakfast?”
“Why not?”
They sat and had some bread and jam and the ubiquitous coffee.
He reached out and took her hand. It looked so small in his bigger hand.
“Marry me,” he suddenly said.
“What?” she asked, shocked.
“Marry me. That way, you get sent to somewhere safe in Germany, so I can come home to you.”
“You are lovely, but a fool,” she said, giggling a little. She looked so young for a moment. Otto wanted to take her in his arms so badly.
“Is that a no, then?”
“Yes, it’s most certainly a no.”
“Pity!”
They finished their meagre repast and walked out into the grey morning.
“So, this is goodbye?” he asked.
She nodded. She wrapped a scarf around her hair.
He handed her a small parcel.
“I was told to look after you, so I have done the best I can. In there is some identification. Papers saying you were an interpreter for the medical corps, and you were taken against your will from France. I have also put in some Dutch Guilders and some French Francs, and one or two little luxuries I was saving for a rainy day. The Allies won’t be long, so there will be fighting here. I suggest you come with us for a few miles and then head south and west.”
Jamie found tears in her eyes again. She bowed her head so he couldn’t see.
He knew she was crying, and he felt the tears in his own eyes.
He lifted her chin, gently, and kissed her lips.
She put her arms around his neck and let him kiss her properly.
This was her first proper kiss, ever, and it went on a long time. She had seen people kiss, and watched the movies. Nothing prepared for the experience of having his tongue enter her mouth and as she allowed him to explore her mouth, she tentatively did the same to him. She felt things happening to her body that she didn’t understand, but she didn’t want them to stop either.
She went weak at the knees and, at that moment, the war, her predicament and everything else ceased to matter.
She wanted him with all her heart, mind and body.
Eventually and very reluctantly, he broke off, sensing that something had happened.
“Janine, wait for me, please?”
She nodded, slightly breathless and unable to speak.
He smiled. “I will try to be as quick as I can,” he said, as if he was just popping out to the shops.
She nodded again.
“I love you, Janine.”
“I love you too,” she heard herself say.
He stared at her.
“You do?”
She smiled through her tears and nodded.
Then he was gone.
She hitched a lift in a German truck for a few kilometres to the next village and was then dropped off. Alone and friendless, Janine took stock of her life.
One thing was very certain.
Jamie Cameron was dead!
He died in Arnhem, and was never coming home.
Janine Chavanay, however, was very much alive and wanted the future to be hers for the asking. She was fed up with other people designing her life.
Chapter 6
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 whatever possessions they could salvage in their arms. The flat and featureless landscape was even more depressing than usual, as the Germans had breached many of the dykes, thereby flooding the farmland so the Allied tanks would have a hard time advancing through the flooded fields.
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, as rumours of why they had stopped abounded. Janine discovered that no one knew where they 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 heading in 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 some form of 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 between two flooded fields 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 and his mouth was open in surprise.
He stood a little way off, staring at her as if she was a mirage.
“Hi! What took you so long?” Janine asked in English, making him grin sheepishly.
“Hey, are you American?” he asked, with a confused expression on his face.
“No, but I speak good English.”
“Lootenant!” the man shouted.
A very 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. He was having great difficulty working out how to ask her anything in Dutch.
“It’s 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, which he made no attempt to light. After a moment, he took it out and returned it to 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 Minnesota. 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’re here only for a day or so. I’ll see what I can do,” he left her and went looking for an orderly.
She was almost asleep when 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.
Chapter 7
She awoke with a start. It was pitch black, so for a second she was back in the cupboard. Panic rose inside her, as she was completely disorientated. She screamed and a light went on.
The American Captain was on his bed at the far end of the room.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
Janine took stock of her surroundings as her memory came back, filling in the gaps. She felt silly.
“Sorry, I had a nightmare. I never used to be afraid of the dark. But I’m afraid that 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 off his bed, stood up 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’ve 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,” he told her.
She smiled again, as it had been the best sleep she had had in ages.
“You talk in your sleep - in English, French and German.”
“Anything interesting?” she asked, fearful of what she had given away.
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. Feeling her short hair reminded her of her predicament, so she felt embarrassed. He was watching her closely. He wondered what sort of hell this girl had been through. She was pretty, but her eyes showed that pain wasn’t far away.
“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 smile changed her from being just pretty to stunning.
“Are you sure?”
“No, but I 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, pulling the blanket back across the cord to divide the room again.
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, but for a female figure. They had also issued her with a pair of trousers (which they insisted on calling pants) 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. The shoes pinched and felt uncomfortable. 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’s hardly appropriate you share my room.”
She nodded and concentrated on her food.
After breakfast, a PFC took her 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, but 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, they tell me 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 á 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 of the tents; 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, leaving 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 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. However, she listened to their conversations with interest, as she’d missed out on a heck of a lot of growing up, and needed to catch up fast.
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 on both sides 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.
Chapter 8
The King Tiger tank, (Tiger II, SdKfz182) was a remarkable piece of engineering. The allies may have had more tanks and even faster tanks, but for armour and weaponry, it was still the best. With a weight of 68 tons and a speed of 35 KM/H. it was fast enough and almost impregnable with armour that was 180 mm thick, to less armoured areas of 25 mm. However, it needed a crew of five, which was a problem as personnel shortages started biting. One of its advantages was the range. Fuel was the most precious commodity, so it was able to cruise for one hundred and seventy miles (275Km) before needing to be refuelled.
The German 88mm gun was renowned in the European theatre of war, so now on an armoured turret, it was quite a force to be reckoned with. They could carry seventy-two rounds for the main gun, plus two 7.92mm MG 34.
Otto eased himself into his commander’s hatch on the turret, pleased to be among familiar surroundings once more. The Konigstiger with its high level of armour and firepower, was without doubt the heaviest operational German tank, which had no equivalent in the allied tank armoury. They were first ordered in January 1943 with the prototype appearing in October 1943. Otto knew from having spoken to a man from the Henschel factory, that it had been planned to have the factory building a hundred and forty King Tigers a month, but even he would have been surprised to learn that by the end of the war, there was only a total of four hundred and eighty seven built.
Otto had persisted with his applications to rejoin the Panzer unit so often that eventually they relented just to keep him quiet.
He had loathed his desk job with a passion, particularly as they were crying out for seasoned and experienced officers in the 5th and 6th Waffen SS Panzer Armies. Things had changed, and by early November 1944, he found himself as a squadron commander with many young and inexperienced men under his command.
His old unit was disbanded and his old comrades were scattered amongst the new divisions. Those who remained alive, that is.
There was a push planned. The Americans and other Allies were not the best communicators, as each General seemed to have his own agenda. Thus, a chance was seen to drive northwest between the advancing armies in the Ardennes from the Eifel Hills, and, if successful, cross the Meuse, and aim for Antwerp. This would cut off a large part of the Allied Armies, and give the Germans an avenue between the enemy to break out and attack the undefended rear, and all the supply lines.
A lot depended on luck, and covert plans were made to utilise American speaking Germans to secure key bridges and crossroads to hold and cause disinformation to confuse the enemy for long enough to break out and seize the precious fuel that was stored behind the American lies.
The key was the fuel. Without it, the counter offensive was doomed, as tanks needed fuel to be effective. They also needed good weather, or rather bad weather so the aircraft spotter planes could not get airborne, and a lot of luck!
Otto found his leg hurt whatever he did, so he was still capable of commanding a squadron of tanks, far better than a squadron of pen pushers! His commanding officer was pleased to have him, despite his bad leg; he was still an effective and experienced tank commander.
The medical officer gave him some pills for the pain. He didn’t think they worked, but he took them and hoped that they would just ease the edge off.
He found his troops were woefully ill equipped to go into battle. Some of the boys in his squadron were just seventeen and had no battle experience at all. He began a strict training regime, one based on his experience in Russia, where they were out-numbered, out-gunned and over-run all the way back from Stalingrad.
As he looked at the map and with his knowledge of the vastly superior and well-equipped allied armies, he feared another winter like Stalingrad was just around the corner.
He often thought of the stunning French girl, who had so captivated his heart in Holland. Janine’s smile had stayed with him for the months since he last saw her, looking forlorn and distressed as the Germans withdrew, leaving her alone and wretched on the road.
He felt a mixture of guilt and anger as he thought about her. No sooner had he found someone who was special enough to give him a ray of hope in an otherwise dark and bleak existence that he then lost her.
He thought he had loved Maria, the nurse who had brought him back to the land of the living. He had been devastated when the news of her death was broken to him. He now doubted he really loved her, he was simply grateful to meet a human being who brought him succour when he needed it most.
He could not even picture her face any more.
He could picture Janine.
He could see her eyes, her smile and the feel of her soft and warm breast.
He remembered that first and only real kiss they had shared as they said farewell, and he held the hope that fate would bring them together once more.
She had said she would wait for him. He frowned, for above everything else, he hoped that she would.
Some trucks arrived with some precious ammunition. Everything was in short supply, ammunition, fuel, spares, food and warm clothing. Many of his men were wearing a variety of clothes, most were not even military issue, and many ‘borrowed’ from Allied POWs. The long leather jackets from Tommies, and the zip-up jerkins from the American GIs. Some even sported Russian fur hats taken from the Russians in a campaign he’d rather forget. He knew other commanders were sticklers for correct dress, but he knew that if his men were warm and comfortable, they’d be more inclined to do what he expected of them. Once cold and hunger took hold, the temptation to give up was just too great.
Unlike Russia, where surrender meant a certain and horrendous death, here, the Americans and British reputedly treated their prisoners well, giving them food and blankets and somewhere warm to sleep. He needed his men to believe he was capable of leading them to the point where they could go home. Victory wasn’t an issue any more, but getting home was.
He supervised the distribution of the shells to his tanks. They were still far short of an ideal load. Few had more than thirty shells, so were forty-two short. They would have to be very lucky indeed for this offensive to come off.
His men were scrounging, begging and stealing fuel from any and every source. It was more precious than gold at this moment, and Otto knew that reaching the fuel dump behind the enemy lines was the most crucial point of the whole plan. Personally, he felt that the whole plan was a waste of time and effort. He thought that anything that would extend the length of the war was sheer stupidity, but then Hitler seemed to embody sheer stupidity.
His thoughts strayed back to Janine, and of her smile. More than anything else in the world, he wanted to be with her right now. He wanted to take her away from any hint of this bloody war, and cherish her for the rest of their lives.
Otto was totally, completely and utterly in love with her, and he liked the feeling. For the first time in many years, he now had something to live for.
Many miles away, the girl in question had come across a German who had an interesting tale. He was a young NCO in an engineer unit. Part of his duties had been to recover any corpses of US soldiers, together with as much of their equipment as possible.
This, she discovered, was in answer to a question relating to whether he had received any strange orders recently.
“What did you do with the corpses?” she asked.
“Put them in a barn. Stripped them and gave the dog-tags to a Waffen SS NCO.”
“What happened to them after that?”
The man shrugged.
“No idea. Their kit was packed up and shipped out in SS trucks. I saw a pioneer unit digging a large hole. I guessed they were to be buried.”
She finished with this prisoner, and immediately sought out Chuck Brewster. He was in his office arguing with another officer.
“Yes?” he asked, looking a little put out at her arrival.
“I can come back later, if you want?” she said.
He smiled and relaxed.
“No, come in Janine. This is Major Hawkins; he’s with intelligence. He wants us to ask twice as many questions as we are already. I was telling him we have enough to do as it is.”
“I’ve just had a strange one. A German Engineer NCO had been ordered to retrieve dead GIs and strip them of all equipment. The equipment was shipped out in SS trucks.”
Both men stared at her.
“Go on.”
“That’s it. I think they’re planning some form of covert action, using English speakers masquerading as GIs,” she said, passing over the questionnaire.
“Steve, this is Janine Chavanay. She is one of our interpreters and one of our best screening officers. She is responsible for the forms being as comprehensive as they are.”
The other man eyed the French tricolour sewn on Janine’s sleeve below her ‘Interpreter’ flashes.
“Ah, vous etes francaise?” Steve asked, in very good French.
“Mais oui, monsieur,” she replied with a smile.
“I lived in France for a couple of years after college. I loved it. Where are you from?”
“Latterly, Reims. But my mother and I travelled around quite a bit. I grew up near Menton in the south.”
“I don’t know Reims. But I guess the whole goddamn country is wrecked by the damn Krauts!”
She smiled, but said nothing.
“This report, what are they up to?” Chuck asked, bringing the subject back to operational matters.
Steve took the paper and read through it.
“Who knows, but it doesn’t seem to amount to much,” he said.
Janine took a chance.
“I disagree. I met one SS officer who was educated in New York. He could pass as an American with no trouble, and there are probably many more. If they managed to get behind our lines, they could sabotage our communications and supply lines. They could even assist a counter offensive by seizing key locations,” she said.
“Janine worked as an interpreter for a French medical unit, they were taken over by the SS, and she has first hand experience with their methods,” Chuck explained, with a somewhat abbreviated version.
“Hmm. Okay, I’ll pass this down the line. If they are planning anything, we should get more whispers to confirm it,” Steve said. He nodded to Chuck and shook Janine’s hand.
“Enchante, mademoiselle,” he said and left.
“Arrogant son of a bitch!” muttered Chuck.
Janine smiled, and left him grumbling.
It was many weeks after Market Garden, William Cameron walked amongst the damaged town of Arnhem, seeing for himself the place his son had last been seen.
His ADC came up to him.
“Brigadier?”
“What is it, Mike?”
“A Dutch woman has found something. I think you ought to come and see.”
They went to a temporary Military Police post. A local woman was standing there, and there was a damp heap on the table. There was an English speaking Dutch police officer there, assisting in translating and interpreting for the allies.
It was a full battle dress, including a Sten gun and Webley pistol.
The MP Sergeant handed Will a soggy army pay book.
It was his son’s.
“This lady went back to her house, and these were found in the garden. It seems that the Germans used her house for a billet, so the place is in a real mess. They stole nearly all her possessions, ” said the Dutch officer.
The uniform was complete, even down to Jamie’s underwear. Will picked up the wallet. The photograph of himself, his late wife and their little boy looked back at him. It still had two pounds and ten shillings in the notes section.
“It’s Jamie’s!” he said, sadly.
“This was found nearby, sir,” the Sergeant said.
He handed Will the small metal disk on a chord.
Embossed on the disk were the words: - 2nd Lieut. J.A.D. Cameron, Cameron Highlanders, and his army number.
Will seemed to crumple from the inside and sat down.
“I’m sorry sir,” said the Sergeant.
“One thing, Brigadier,” said his ADC.
“What?”
“If it’s all here, like this, then it looks as if he had found some civvy clothes, and got rid of anything that if the Germans found on him, they would know immediately who he was. I think he was trying to evade them.”
“You think he is alive?”
“Think about it, sir. If the Germans captured him then why is his stuff here? If he had been shot, how did he manage to get rid of his uniform? There are no holes or blood on the clothing, so I should think he put them in the blanket, and hid them so he could evade the enemy!”
Holding onto this thought, Will was a little less upset, and it gave him something to live for. He realised just how much his son meant to him, perhaps for the first time in his life, he actually thought of someone other than himself.
“Poor little sod! God, I hope he’s alive! Ask the woman if anything is missing from her house.”
He waited for the officer to translate.
“A lot is missing, sir, it seems the Germans took anything that wasn’t nailed down.”
“How about civilian clothes, particularly men’s clothes?”
“No sir, she says there weren’t any men’s clothes in her house, just hers and her daughters.”
“Sir, it’s possible he acquired some clothes earlier and used this house to change in,” said his ADC.
“We may never know, Mike. I just pray the poor little sod is all right.”
A couple of days later, General Bradley looked at Janine’s report.
He passed it to Brigadier William Cameron, the British Liaison officer to the US army general staff.
“What do you think, Bill?”
“An intelligent report, and if true, worrying. How strong is the line, General?”
“Strong enough.”
“How about for a single strike of a mass of German armour at one specific point?”
They looked at the map, and it became very obvious that such a counter-offensive could have serious consequences for his men. The troops were spread out over a broad front, and many had been in the line for a long time, so were battle weary and fed up, long overdue relief and some leave.
The recent damp and cold weather had sapped their morale, and it was increasingly apparent that the war would not be over by Christmas, as hoped.
“Pass the word. All units are to be wary of any strange units that seem out of place. Inform all unit commanders that we believe that Germans are going to try to infiltrate the line by posing as US soldiers, and they are to put in place new and rapidly changing password and security systems,” General Bradley said.
He then looked at his support units and where his lines were weakest. There were several points, and he just didn’t have enough to cover them all!
William Cameron was looking at the report in his hand. Ever since the news of his son being missing in action, he had fostered a hope that Jamie was still alive.
As he gazed at the handwriting on this single sheet of paper, he wondered if it was wishful thinking. The writing seemed familiar, yet subtly different. The name on the bottom of the form was of a Janine Chavanay, FF Int.
This meant she was a Free French interpreter. So, not even British, a woman, and probably middle aged.
It wasn’t the first time he had seen handwriting that reminded him of his son. He had seen a letter only three weeks ago from someone in hospital, and it turned out to be an Engineer Officer who had both legs amputated.
He gave the report back to the General and sighed.
“Bill, what are the Germans most short of?”
“I don’t know, most things, these days. I suppose either ammunition or fuel is the most pressing.”
“Exactly. Now, if you wanted fuel but your supply lines just couldn’t provide it, but the enemy had plenty of it. What would you do?”
“Plot the shortest route to their fuel nearest dump. Secure the route first, punch a small hole in the enemy line where it was weakest and just go for it.”
Bradley looked down at the map.
“I want all our fuel depots marked on this map. I want each one to have armoured support, and alert all MP units to patrol the routes from the front to the depots. See if air reconnaissance can sweep all areas to our immediate front, and pay attention to any build up of enemy tanks.”
“How long for, General?” asked one of his staff officers.
“Hell, I don’t know. Until something happens, I guess.”
“Now what?” Bill asked.
“Now, we wait.”
No further information was forthcoming to confirm Janine’s suspicions. The weather closed in, as December loomed promising more cold and wet weather. The air reconnaissance units were grounded due to low cloud base and worsening conditions, and complacency set in everywhere as nothing happened - anywhere.
Sure enough, December arrived with some colder weather. The fighting died away, and an uneasy stalemate existed with sporadic and unpredictable bursts of minor actions. Even the stream of POWs slowed to a trickle, so Janine found herself with time on her hands for the first time in weeks.
She now wore the trousers in preference to the skirt, for warmth as well as comfort. She had several layers of clothing, but was still cold and damp for most of the time.
She hung about and found getting bored was worse than being too busy. Time, and time again, her mind turned to Otto, and she wanted to know he was all right.
On the 16th December, there was a lull in the foul weather, so Chuck asked her if she fancied a drive to clear their minds. He booked out a jeep and they drove towards a nearby town, just for a change in the routine. None of the team had had a break in weeks, so it was a very pleasant change to get out for a while.
They came to a crossroads, where the signpost had been removed at some point as a strategic device. Janine took out the map and checked it.
“Left,” she said.
Chuck swung the jeep left and they continued down there for a while.
They came to a small village, which, in peacetime would have been a tourist’s delight. The small cobbled square was deserted, while the single café looked as if it had been closed for a millennia.
They drove straight through and out the other side, and approached a small bridge on the far side of the village. A squad of American MPs were gathered round a truck, obviously receiving instructions from their officer, a lieutenant.
Chuck slowed. He frowned, as an MP himself, he thought he knew every MP unit in this area, but these were strangers.
The lieutenant smiled and wandered over. He saluted Chuck.
“Hi Capt’n. Can I help you?”
“Yeah, which unit are you guys with?” Chuck asked, returning the salute.
The canvas cover was over the jeep, and Janine was so wrapped up in scarves, a woolly hat and a hood that no one could recognise her. She suddenly stiffened, while her right hand crept out and grabbed Chuck by the wrist.
“We’re with the 33rd. We’ve just been moved into this area last night. Extra patrols against possible insurgencies, or sumptin’,” the lieutenant said. His New York accent was very obvious.
“Oh, no one told me,” said Chuck, who realised that the death-like grip on his wrist was actually hurting. He turned to Janine and was surprised to see her white with fear.
“SS!” she mouthed.
With his heart thumping, he looked back at the other man and his men. They were all watching the jeep, no one saying anything and all holding their weapons as if they wanted to use them. The longer he looked, the more certain he became that she was right.
“Okay, Lieutenant. Good luck, see ya,” he said as casually as possible, spinning the Jeep in a slow 180 turn and drove away as slowly as he dared. He wanted to put his foot down, but daren’t draw attention to them. The back of his neck itched, as he waited for the shots to come.
They didn’t, and after an age, the jeep reached the village and turned the corner. Chuck put his foot down then.
Janine had been holding her breath, now released it and told him what she knew.
“The officer, it was Rudi Heinmann. He is an SS Untersturmfuehrer. I met him near Arnhem,” she said, looking back. The last she’d seen, the MPs were gathered in the road, all looking at their departing Jeep.
Unbeknown to Chuck and Janine, the German counter-offensive, which became known as the Battle of the Bulge, had just started. Otto and his tanks in the 5th and 6th SS Panzer Armies were rolling, so the quiet before the mother of all battles was about to be shattered.
The Jeep shot round a corner, and nearly collided with two Sherman tanks that were parked at the crossroads. The two tank commanders were arguing about which road to follow.
Chuck interrupted their discussion.
“Hey guys, there is a group of Krauts just down the road, dressed as US MPs. The officer was recognised as an SS officer that this French girl met in Holland. How about you get to kick some ass?”
The master Sergeant, on the top of one of the Shermans, spat on the ground.
“And just how do we know you ain’t a fucking Kraut, Captain?”
Chuck looked him right in the eye.
“You tell me any goddamn Kraut who played for the Giants for four seasons?”
“Chuck Brewster?”
“The same, but it is Captain Chuck goddamn Brewster, to you Sergeant.”
The man grinned, instantly giving orders to his crew, and the tank’s engines burst into life.
Minutes later the two tanks were making their way towards the bridge and the small band of fifteen Germans.
Rudi Heinmann stared after the American Jeep. He was slightly worried. The MP Captain was a little too quick to leave them, so he suspected that their mission was in danger. He had noticed that there was another man in the jeep, but hadn’t got close enough to see him.
However, he told himself that nothing he’d said or done had given them away, so he relaxed. His task was to hold the bridge until the panzers reached his position. If the bridge was taken by the Allies, or worse, was destroyed, then the German armour had extra fifteen miles to go to get fuel. It was both time and fuel that couldn’t be wasted. It was vitally important that the bridge remain intact to preserve the precious fuel they had.
When the first American tank appeared, he wasn’t too bothered. Tanks came and went all day. The Americans were notoriously bad at map reading, and with French place names they were even worse. They had already misdirected five or six lost crews.
When the second tank came into view, and the commanders suddenly closed down the hatches, his heart almost stopped.
They knew.
The first shell confirmed it, as their stolen American truck exploded, killing five of his men.
Two minutes, and six shells later, the three survivors raised their hands. They only had rifles and side arms. They had no chance.
The original Jeep returned, and the tall captain came over to where Rudi stood with his hands on his head.
The other person in the jeep got out and walked over. Janine took her hood and hat off, shaking her blonde hair free.
Rudi’s eyes closed slightly in recognition.
“Hello Rudi. Fancy seeing you here!” she said in German.
He nodded. Now he understood. She was an American Agent, so he had been identified.
He slipped his hand down and grasped the small US grenade that was hanging from his jacket. He released the pin and threw it towards the girl.
Several shots rang out, and he died before the grenade exploded.
Janine and Chuck stared at the grenade, and Janine simply jumped off the bridge into the stream. The grenade exploded, but Chuck, being bigger, was slower. As he dived behind the parapet, a chunk of shrapnel entered his leg just above the knee, narrowly missing his artery. The men on the tank were safe, but the other two phoney MPs died in the blast.
Janine was cold and wet, but she was also unharmed. One of the tank crew ginned at her and held his hand out. She took it and she dragged herself out of the water, she saw the men from the other tank bandaging Chuck’s leg.
Suddenly, she heard the noise of many tracks and engines. Turning, she saw the eerie silhouettes of a great many Tiger tanks approaching on the other side of the river. She didn’t know it, but she was now closer to Otto than she had been since that day they’d said goodbye to each other.
“The Bridge - blow the bridge!” she screamed through chattering teeth.
The crews moved with practised ease, leaping back into their tanks. The two Shermans moved closer, both lowering their barrels to the aim at the bridge.
The leading German tank opened fire, and an explosion took out a chunk of masonry at the side of one of the Shermans.
Both the American tanks fired, and the bridge disintegrated, the masonry falling the five or six metres into the river.
Then one of the Shermans received a hit on its left track, so the crew jumped to safety.
With the help of one of the tank-less Americans, Janine dragged Chuck into the jeep and jumped behind the wheel. The other crewmen squeezed in the back. She slammed it into reverse and jammed her foot hard on the gas, as another shell exploded exactly where the jeep had been resting seconds before.
“Shit! We ain’t got a hope!” wailed one of the guys in the back.
“”While your breathing, you always got hope,” said the Sergeant. “Go, sister, drive for your life!”
The remaining Sherman fired on the Tiger, but the shell ricocheted of the front plate, screaming off into the field, as the thick armour held and the American’s shell failed to pierce the enemy tank. The Sherman retreated still firing, but the Germans had to roll to a halt. Two more Tigers rolled in along side the lead tank, and all three continued to fire on the rapidly retreating Americans.
Janine had spun the jeep round and was racing down the road. She zigzagged in a haphazard fashion, hoping that the German gunners would leave her alone. Clods of earth and stones erupted beside and beyond them as the German shells attempted to stop their flight.
Most of the enemy fire was directed towards the single Sherman. Static tanks were able to fire in a more accurate pattern than a moving one, but a moving tank was harder to hit than a static one. Still the Germans failed to hit the fast American tank, but the Sherman’s gun was unable to make more than a scratch on the enemy armour,
Chuck’s face was ashen as he hung on tightly, his face a mask of pain. The pale faces of the tank crew stared back at their comrades, who were still retreating, firing as they went.
The Jeep out stripped the Sherman, and raced through the village. Janine drove like a woman possessed, and as soon as they found a military unit, she swung to a halt and told them what had happened.
Chuck had lapsed into unconsciousness, and once satisfied that the commanders were aware of the situation, she made for the field Hospital.
She pulled up outside and the tank crew helped her with Chuck. They took him from the jeep. An orderly appeared with a stretcher, and they took him straight into surgery, where they were able to get to work on him straight away.
As it happened, there were few casualties at that time, but over the coming days, many men would pass through their hands, some of who were never to see their home again.
The German offensive was almost successful. It frightened the Allies, who only just managed to regroup and hold the line. Many lives were lost, but in the final analysis, it was the lack of fuel and sheer weight of allied numbers that really defeated the Germans.
Chapter 9
Otto wiped the sweat and dust from his eyes. They had advanced far further and faster than he had anticipated. American tanks destroyed the bridge they had hoped to cross, just as they approached. They had to cross the river by the next bridge down, which had been successfully secured by another covert team of Germans dressed as US soldiers. However, in doing so, they lost valuable time and fuel.
Now, in the thick of a tank battle, Otto realised that they had failed. The Americans and British just had so much more. A line of Shermans was stretched across the ridge. Despite being smaller, lighter and with less powerful armament, they had the firepower to lay a devastating barrage, so one by one the Tigers fell, either because they ran out of fuel or ammunition.
However, they took many Allied tanks and lives with them.
Otto watched as his gunner loaded their last shell. The man looked at him, and Otto shrugged. They were operating on fumes now, so once the shell was gone, they may as well pack in. Even the finest tank in the world was just a lump of scrap metal if it had no shells and no fuel.
Their shell fired and the track of an advancing Sherman blew apart. The tank rolled off the remains of its track. It was a sitting duck. The next German shell could blow it apart with ease. Unfortunately, there was no more ammunition.
Otto ordered his tank to withdraw rapidly. As they reversed, he saw the motionless tanks of his comrades, whose fuel had already given out. The crews were already abandoning their tanks, attempting to run to the rear, but the advancing Americans used their machine guns, making it a suicide run.
They retreated over a small hill and reached a small copse, where the engine finally died.
“It’s kaput, sir!” said his driver.
“Right, everyone out. It’s over, so head for home, lads,” he said.
Carl, his gunner tried to help him.
“”No, Carl, just go. Run like the wind, and don’t stop for anyone. I’d only slow you down. Good luck!” he said.
He took his belt off, managing to struggle out of the turret and slid down the side of the tank to the soft earth. His leg ached abominably, as he had been cooped up in that damned tin can for several days. With his trusty cane to help him, he limped away and sat down by a tree some distance from the tank. He’d retained his ebony stick with silver top for too long to let it go now.
Taking out his cigarette case, he lit up his last cigarette. As he drew the smoke into his lungs, he smiled.
“Now, Janine, my little flower, where the hell are you? Come on, fate, it is time for you to something right, for once.”
He was still sitting there when a Sherman rolled to a halt some distance away. His tank was obviously abandoned and was little threat, but the American tank manoeuvred behind it and simply opened fire, destroying a perfectly good King Tiger.
Otto shook his head, what a waste!
US Infantry swarmed over the hill, so he finished his cigarette and raised his arms. The Americans were cautious and aggressive, but not malicious and brutal like the Russians. They prodded him with their rifles and searched him, taking everything from him. He smiled, having removed his wristwatch, secreting it down his underpants before they arrived. He wasn’t armed, and as soon as his leg injury became apparent, he was marched, slowly and painfully to the rear. They even let him keep his walking stick.
Janine waited at the hospital to await the result of Chuck’s operation. Doctor Russ Morrison, one of the US army surgeons came out to where she waited, still by the jeep.
“You brought in Captain Brewster?”
“Oui, how is he?” she asked, remembering to be French at the last minute.
“If you hadn’t gotten him to us when you did, he might have died of blood loss at worst, or lost the leg at best. As it is, we’ve patched him up and sewn up the hole. There was no lasting damage, but he’s got himself a ticket home, that’s for sure.”
Janine smiled, looking very weary.
“Thank you. I’m so pleased for him, his wife will want him back in one piece, I think,” she said. Russ smiled, his heart going out to this girl, looking so dishevelled and lost.
“How about you, have you anyone waiting for you?” he asked.
Her eyes took on a faraway look, while she seemed to be almost ready to cry.
“Peut-áªtre, perhaps. Things are never what they were. I knew a man, but I think maybe he is dead now.”
“Is he French?” he asked, noticing the tricolour on her jacket.
She shook her head, but said nothing.
“Nothing will ever be quite the same, I’m afraid. The age of innocence is gone forever,” he said.
“They said that after the last one, what went wrong?”
Russ sighed, feeling all his fifty-two years.
“I think, my dear, that we are too damn good at forgetting.”
“Anyway, thank you for helping my friend,” she said.
Russ looked at her in amazement. “Me? My God, you saved his life, and the lives of that tank crew, yet you’re thanking me? I don’t know what to say, for we should be thanking you!”
Janine kissed his cheek, smiled and clambered into the jeep. Russ watched as she drove away, shaking his head. That girl should be dressing in pretty clothes and flirting with fine young men. Instead, she was dressed like a soldier and up to her knees in blood and suffering. He returned to his quarters and penned a short report.
Janine returned the jeep and made her way back to her billet. Her room was empty, as the nurses were working all hours God sent to deal with the heavy casualties.
She stripped off her damp clothes and had a hot shower, standing under the jets for an age to try to warm up. When she finally crashed out on her bed, she thought of Otto, praying he was still alive and in one piece.
Chuck’s wound wasn’t too serious, so as soon as they could move him, they did, sending him back to an R&R centre. He’d put pen to paper as well as the surgeon, so both reports of the incident landed on General Bradley’s desk, together with one written by the master Sergeant in charge of the tank crew she’d driven to safety. Although not conclusive, their small action had given the Allies a small respite, and an edge that may have assisted the victory.
The General submitted a report in turn, which landed on the desk of General Charles De Gaulle, amongst others. At the sight of the action by a Frenchwoman, and that she was a civilian interpreter to boot, wheels were instantly put in motion.
Meanwhile, Eisenhower summoned his commanders and they talked through their options. They strengthened the line and restarted the push for Germany with vigour. The complacency was gone, replaced by a determination to finish this thing.
Chuck was sitting in a chair at the window of the old French Chateau. It was snowing, and the nurses were decorating the place ready for Christmas.
Lt. Colonel Max Clifford walked over to him.
“Chuck!”
Chuck looked up.
“Colonel. Good to see you.”
Max pulled up a chair and sat down.
“You chose the right time to take a wound. We’ve never been so busy.”
“Sorry sir. I didn’t intend to. So, which poor sucker is doing my job?”
“The only one with the experience and common sense; the French girl.”
“You put Janine in charge?” Chuck asked, surprised.
“Yup, officially. I have to inform you, that as from yesterday, Janine Chavanay has been commissioned in the Free French army as a Captain, no less. Young lieutenant Maxwell was nominally in charge, but I told him to just do what the lady said. But she took over this morning, and is running a tight little ship.”
They both laughed.
“How is my girl?” Chuck asked.
“Good. She saved your sorry ass. It looks like she’s gonna get a medal from us, the French and the British!”
“No shit? How come?”
“Well, when Ike read your report, he decided to recommend her for a bronze star. Then the French wanted to because she is one of theirs. Then the British decided they wanted in on the act, and are trying to work out what they can give her.”
Chuck laughed. “How’s she take it?”
“How do you think?”
“She told them to go away and stop being silly.”
“Almost word for word.”
“She’s one of a kind. I just wonder what kind of life she’ll have to go back to.”
“Has she ever talked about it?”
“Not really. She spoke of growing up before the war and occasionally mentions a man, but she’s very cagey.”
“She’s a good kid.”
“One of the best, sir. How much longer can this go on?”
“I don’t know, Chuck. I want to go home too.”
Chuck stared out of the window.
“Some people don’t have homes to go back to. Others have homes but no one in them!” he said, thinking of Janine.
“War is a bitch,” Max said, and passed his friend a bottle of bourbon.
“Thanks.”
“No problem. I have two glasses as well, if you want.”
“I want.”
They poured themselves two stiff measures and toasted peace.
Janine was sorting through the list of that day’s screening.
They had managed three hundred and twelve, making a record. However, they couldn’t maintain this for very long.
She was exhausted, but at the end of each day, she checked every list to see if Otto’s name was on it.
There was a knock on her door. Her door, it was Chuck Brewster’s door really, but the Colonel had told her to just get on and do the job. She kept seeing the captain’s rank on her shoulders and smiled. In a matter of a few months she had risen a long way, in three different armies!
“Yes?”
It was Sergeant Ryan.
“Another batch just in, ma’am. Where do you want them?”
“More? Shit, we haven’t room for the ones we’ve already got! Where are these from?”
“Most of them are tank crews from the offensive. They’re no trouble, just as fed up as the rest of them.”
“Put them in compound one. How many officers?”
The Sergeant checked his list.
“Twenty-five.”
“Senior man?”
“A Sturmbannfuehrer, so that makes him a Major, right?”
“Right. Name?” she asked, hardly daring to hope.
“Schneider, Otto. Commander of a Tiger squadron, taken in a forest when his tank ran out of fuel. Has a leg injury.”
Janine’s heart was racing, so she struggled to remain calm on the outside.
“Oh, recent or old injury?”
“Must be old, he walks with a stick.”
She looked at her watch.
“Put them all into the compound. Oh, and bring the senior officer to me in interview room one.”
“Now ma’am? Shouldn’t you get some rest?”
“Now, please. I just want to get him to try to help persuade his men to cooperate with us. So a few words should do it.”
“You’re the boss,” he said and left.
Janine went to her filing cabinet, removing the bottle of cognac and two glasses she had placed there. She put them into her briefcase, and made her way to the interview rooms.
The place was all but deserted now, as the teams were taking a well-earned rest before starting again tomorrow.
She placed her briefcase on the floor, and went and stood by the barred window.
There was a knock on the door, so she waited facing the window, with her back to the door.
“Sit there,” the Sergeant said to the dishevelled Major. There was the sound of the chair being moved and then of someone sitting.
Then, “Sturmbannfuehrer Schneider, ma’am.”
“Thank you. I’ll call you when I’m done,” she said.
She turned and looked at Otto. The sergeant closed the door.
Otto was sitting staring at her in frank disbelief, his eyes were brimming with tears, and in that moment she knew she still loved him.
“Hello Otto. It seems fate has interceded for us,” she said in German and smiled.
Otto had been marched for about two miles before his leg collapsed. Reluctantly, the US soldiers allowed him to travel in a truck with some other wounded Germans.
They had travelled for some miles before stopping at a makeshift POW compound. Within the compound were tents, and there were six sub-compounds. He smiled as he recognised the system. This was the screening area, to weed out those who would be called to account, or could assist the intelligence officers in any way.
They stood in the rain as they were counted, recounted and details obtained. He felt remarkably calm and in good spirits, for he didn’t have to fight any more.
He watched the young Americans, with their shiny new equipment and strange lack of military discipline. They corralled the POWs into a compound and issued them all with blankets and mess tins. They were lined up and given the best meal he’d had in ages.
He was shown a tent and allocated a bed. Then a sergeant had come for him.
He was really very tired and his leg was aching abominably.
“Where am I being taken?” he asked, in broken English.
“You’re the senior officer of the new POWS. The Captain wants to speak to you,” the sergeant told him.
He was taken to a room, where a man stood in the shadows by the window.
The sergeant told him to sit, so he did so.
Then the sergeant spoke to the person.
“Sturmbannfuehrer Schneider, ma’am.”
“Thank you. I’ll call you when I’m done,” she said.
As soon as he heard her voice, he knew!
When she turned round and looked at him, his heart melted and tears came to his eyes.
Her hair was even more golden than he remembered, a little shorter perhaps, but wavy and delightful. She seemed to have filled out a little, perhaps the American food was helping. She was wearing US army fatigues. He could see Captain’s stars and a French flag on her shoulder. Her bosom seemed fuller, but her smile was as wonderful as ever.
She was the most beautiful girl in the world!
“Hello Otto. It seems fate has interceded for us,” she said, smiling right into his heart.
He couldn’t move, so she walked slowly over to the table. She sat opposite him, leaning down and picking up the briefcase.
She took out the bottle and the glasses, and poured them both a drink. She passed him a glass.
“To us,” she said, raising her glass. He could see the tears in her eyes.
“Us!” he repeated and drank.
He put the empty glass down.
“You look wonderful!” he said, in German.
“You don’t. You look like shit!” she said, making him laugh. He hadn’t laughed properly since she had last been with him.
“So, you got the job then?”
“So it seems.”
“And a Captain, but those aren’t US rank stars,” he observed, frowning.
“Je suis français, I am a Capitaine in the Free French Army.”
“I love you Janine!”
“I know,” she said, teasing him.
“What happens now?”
“Now? Well first, I stand up, like this,” she said, standing up.
“Then I move over here next to you, like so,” she said.
“Then you stand up and kiss me.”
He did as he was told.
They kissed as lovers. Tenderly, yet with a hidden passion built on the time spent apart. For a brief moment, two became as one, and Janine knew then that she had lost her heart to this man.
The kiss went on and she held him so close and tight, knowing that she never wanted to be apart from him again.
This time, her body responded and she allowed the feelings to flow freely. She ached for him. She wanted to possess and be possessed. She now knew what it was like to be a woman.
Otto started to cry.
The kiss came to an end, as he crumpled onto the chair. She sat on the table and held him, his whole body wracked with sobs. Years of suffering and pain were being released. Her love for him had restored his belief in himself and in humankind. It was almost more than he could take.
She held his head and gently rocked him.
“Shh. It’s okay now, I’m here. I’m yours. I love you so much!”
Otto had much to release, as for the first time in his life, he allowed his feelings to take over and he surrendered to them.
After many minutes, he regained control.
She smiled and kissed his tears.
“I love you,” she said.
He smiled and she produced a handkerchief. She wiped his face. It was very dirty.
She poured another drink for each of them.
They drank. He smiled, content simply to be in her company again. She put the bottle and glasses back in her case.
“As I asked before, what happens now?” he said.
She shrugged.
“Tomorrow, I will formally interview you. Then you will be sent back to the rear and eventually will end up in a proper facility. I have to sort out some things first, and then, hopefully, when the fighting stops, we can make a life for ourselves somewhere no one knows either of us.”
“Marry me?”
“Of course, but do you mind if we finish the war first?”
He chuckled.
“I also need to get the courage to tell you those secrets you know I have. I won’t marry you until they are clear,” she said.
“I don’t need to know them.”
“You might not, but I need you to know them. These are major things in my life, and I don’t know the best way of telling you.”
“I am in no rush.”
“That’s a good job, for it may take me a while.”
“Janine?”
“What?”
“You don’t have any cigarettes, by any chance?”
“That, my love, is one nasty habit you are definitely giving up,” she told him, and called the sergeant. She turned and threw him a pack.
“Just to make the journey easier,” she said with her lovely smile. Then she was gone.
The sergeant took Otto back to his compound, where as he made his way to his tent, with the most idiotic smile on his face.
He lay on his bed and lit a cigarette. It was an American brand, and not one with which he was familiar. It was too smooth for his taste, so he found it almost tasteless compared to the rough Russian varieties he’d smoked in the past, yet it was still a cigarette. He held it up and wondered what silly sod had invented this rather stupid and pointless activity.
A tired Obersturmfuehrer was watching him from the next bunk.
“Sir, you look remarkably pleased about something.”
Otto looked at the man.
“I am. I don’t have to be afraid any more,” he said.
“What about your family?”
Otto smiled.
“I have just found my family,” he said, and closed his eyes. The Obersturmfuehrer looked across at Otto and frowned. No one should look that happy to be a POW.
| SS Ranks and Army Equivalents | |
| Oberstgruppenfuehrer | General |
| Obergruppenfuehrer | Lieutenant General |
| Gruppenfuehrer | Major General |
| Brigadefuehrer | Brigadier General |
| Oberfuehrer | No Equivalent |
| Standartenfuehrer | Colonel |
| Obersturmbannfuehrer | Lieutenant Colonel |
| Sturmbannfuehrer | Major |
| Hauptsturmfuehrer | Captain |
| Obersturmfuehrer | First Lieutenant |
| Untersturmfuehrer | Second Lieutenant |
| Strumscharfuehrer | Master Sergeant |
| Hauptscharfuehrer | Technical Sergeant |
| Oberscharfuehrer | Staff Sergeant |
| Scharfuehrer | Sergeant |
| Unterscharfuehrer | Corporal |
| Rottenfuehrer | Private First Class |
| Sturmann | Private |
| SS-Mann | No Equivalent |
Comments
Amazing Story - Please Give It a Chance
Really. Try to broaden your horizons, people. You'll find yourself rooting for Janine. She's an amazing young woman with an amazing story.
- Terry
Preaching to the converted
Good call, young Terry. Please see my comment after part one of this story.
Definitely a Tanya fan.
Susie
This is shaping up really
This is shaping up really well, I am looking forward to Janine meeting her father, I have a feeling he will recognise her not as his son but as his wife looked when they met, either way it will be interesting to see how it pans out and whether it takes her grandparents to confirm her birth defect before he accepts his daughter.
With stories like this I end up wishing for more updates a day lol, meh I'm just greedy lol, I have to agree with Susan this is one of my favorite of your stories so far :) I have enjoyed all of the ones of yours I have read but this for me stands out more.
Megumi :)
Bailey's Angel
The Godmother :p
Glad to see the two together
Glad to see the two together again. Ahhh, the Eifels, I got to know them well in the 1960's when I was stationed at Hahn Air Base, located in them. Lots of building around the area still showed scars from the battles there. Today you can't tell there was ever even a war through that region. Lovely story Tanya. J-Lynn
Should have known!
I almost didn't read this one. Tanya Allen is one of my favorite authors but it didn't really seem like something I would like. I should have known better. As always Tanya has written this remarkable complex story and caught the feelings and emotions of her characters perfectly. This actually reminds me of what could be a Paul Harvey piece, where at the end, he announces, Now the rest of the story! Terrific!
Hugs!
grover
This is probably my favorite story
Samirah M. Johnstone
If you liked this...
...then I suggest you take a look at FIGHT OR FLIGHT on http://tanyaallan.authorshaunt.com/shop.php
It is of a similar period, but deals with a young British pilot escaping from a POW camp and his struggles to find both himself and home.
I wrote Fortune's Soldier first, and then tried again with some ideas that were left over.
Tanya
There's no such thing as bad weather, just the wrong clothes!
I bought 'Fight or Flight'
and can verify - it's good.
Susie
I agree with Terry
This is fine story and I'm enjoying all of it. I was glad to see that Otto survived and the pair found each other again. Janine is drawing attention to herself from the allies too, showing courage ability and determination that will probably have her meeting her father again pretty soon. I'm interesting in discovering how that turns out.