Fortune's Soldier
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 1
 
 
Jamie was afraid, very afraid.

He was hot, tired, cramped and afraid.

It was very dark, stuffy and unpleasant where he half-lay, half sat on the floor of a Dutch cupboard, dressed in his British uniform, with seven German soldiers billeted a few feet away on the other side of the cupboard door. It was hardly an ideal situation, but then it could have been much worse.

He knew that he was lucky, in a way, as he was still alive and free, if one could call it that. Most of his company were now prisoners of war, or dead. Arnhem had been definitely one bridge too far! However, he didn’t feel particularly lucky. He felt alone and afraid.

Jamie gently eased the cramped muscles in his legs. He bit his lip to stop himself from crying out from the pain, gently massaging his calves with his fingers. Gradually, the excruciating pain eased, so he was able to relax. He had been in the cupboard for two days so far, and it was doing his head in. He could hear the guttural German voices just a few feet away. Every now and again, he could smell their food or tobacco smoke. For most of last night, the one sleeping only centimetres away on the other side of the cupboard door had snored dreadfully, so Jamie was also feeling weary through stress and lack of sleep.

His Sten-gun was on the floor of the cupboard, along with his steel helmet, Webley pistol, water bottle and small pack, so limiting the actual floor space upon which he could get even slightly comfortable. He had spread out his jump smock and battledress jacket on the floor to give him a little padding, having piled several pair of women’s shoes up one end. The temperature inside the cupboard was, by now, very uncomfortable, even though Jamie had stripped down to the waist.

It was quite a big cupboard, but not quite big enough for a man to fully lie down on the floor. He couldn’t stand, but he could sit, almost getting his legs straight. It still had the previous female owner’s clothing hanging on the rail. A small set of shelves at the far end held her underwear and accessories. He had moved the hanging clothes up to the far end, so he was almost able to sit in comfort.

It was also pitch dark.

His mind was starting to play tricks on him, as time was deceptive in this small dark place. He noticed that there were vents in the ceiling, without which he may well have asphyxiated some time ago.

He spent the time going over events in his past, just to take his mind off his present circumstances. However, the complete darkness caused him the most distress.

At first, it wasn’t too bad, as he could see the luminous hands on his Swiss watch. After several hours, even they lost their shine. As a result, he lost all track of time, unable to tell whether it was day or night. Only the movement of the Germans gave him a clue, but they were not reliable, as they were prone to turn out at a moment’s notice, so he never knew what time of day it was. His hopes that the Allies would arrive and liberate the town became less by each hour that passed, particularly when he heard more an more German tanks rumble past the house towards the sound of gunfire.

He was nineteen and a newly commissioned Second Lieutenant in the Cameron Highlanders. He had left school at eighteen, when his father, Brigadier Sir William Cameron had arranged for his son to be called up to his regiment, so it was no surprise to anyone that within a few weeks he found himself selected for the Officer Cadet Training Unit (OCTU), after facing the War Office Selection Board (WOSB), which passed him ready for training

He was five foot six, wiry, lean and slim. He had his mother’s ice blue eyes and ash-blond hair, which he knew was rather too long, but he just had not had time to get a haircut with this operation coming as spontaneously as it had.

Curling over his ears and collar with a long fringe, he had always tried to wet it before parades, tucking the surplus up into his Tam O’Shanter (Highland Soldier’s beret), to avoid the wrath of the RSM or Adjutant. The RSM was rumoured to eat young subalterns for breakfast, even if their fathers were the next best thing to God!

As he grew up, his father had been somewhat disappointed as his only son had taken after his elegant and somewhat slender wife, but the lad showed remarkable tenacity to compensate for his lack of physical bulk. He had developed fast reactions and a ready wit, well able to talk his way out of most situations before his antagonists realised what was happening.

Commissioned just after his nineteenth birthday in the preceding February, yet still not shaving more than once a week, if that, he was now a subaltern in the family regiment. There had been a Cameron in the regiment since it was originally founded. He felt it was hardly the time to tell his father that he actually would rather have joined the RAF.

A quiet lad, slightly built, but with a lively smile and who genuinely cared about people, he found he was quite popular with his Jocks (other ranks), even if his nickname was ‘the wee laddie’. At least he hoped it was ‘laddie’, and not ‘lassie’.

It wasn’t that he had a gung-ho attitude, for he was far too reserved for that. It was his good-humoured humility, absence of arrogance and genuine concern for his troops’ welfare, which won him the respect and admiration of his men. Quite simply, he was a nice young man who commanded respect through grace and not through arrogance.

Having been in the Officer Training Corps at his public school, which, in turn, had been part of the Home Guard, he was more than able to take on the role for real. He was at once relieved to be actually taking part in the war, instead of playing at it in the Home Guard, and fearful that he was about to die for his country before he’d really had a chance to live.

He had volunteered for airborne training, so on the 17^th September 1944, within a few weeks of completing his parachute training, he found himself part of the British First Airborne division, floating above the Dutch town of Arnhem, a few feet below his parachute.

The airborne drop at Arnhem (the attack was code-named Operation Market Garden) was a plan to end the war early. The idea for an airborne drop on Arnhem came from Field Marshall Bernard Montgomery.

Montgomery’s plan was relatively simple. He believed that the most obvious crisis the Allies would face attacking into Germany was crossing the Rhine. Intelligence reports had already come in stating that the nearer the Allies got to the River Rhine, the more fierce the Germans defence was becoming.

Montgomery reckoned on dropping a large airborne force into Holland which could then serve a number of purposes. It could mop up German resistance in Holland but more important, it could attack and outflank the defences put up by the Germans along the Siegfried Line and then attack German defences behind the River Rhine, thereby facilitating an Allied crossing of that river. While the American General Patton continued to advance in the south towards Germany, the airborne attack would assist in an attack in the north of Europe. Both armies would then squeeze what was left of German resistance in the middle.

'Monty' planned for an airborne assault to capture five bridges in Holland to secure the roads that the Allies needed to convey their armoured divisions and supply vehicles. Two of these bridges were over canals (the Wilhelma and Zuid Willems Vaart canals) while the other three bridges were over rivers. These rivers were the Maas where the bridge crossed at Grave; the Waal where the bridge crossed at Nijmegen and the Neder Rijn at Arnhem. Here, at Arnhem, the capture of the bridge was vital, as the Neder Rijn was over 100 metres wide at this point.

The plan had its critics, most notably in the American camp, who believed that the supplies needed for the attack would be taken away from their drive towards the Rhine. Initially, Eisenhower, supreme commander of Allied forces in the west, called the plan a "pencil-like thrust". General Bradley, commander of the US 12^th Army Group called it a venture "up a side-alley". However, an event quickly gave Montgomery's plan more momentum.

V2 rockets had fallen in London. Quite clearly, these posed a far greater problem to the British government than theV1’s, which frequently went off target or were shot down. The V2's were in a different category. The Allies knew they were being fired from the coast of northern Europe so any successful attack into Holland and beyond would greatly ease this problem until all the launch sites were destroyed. The War Office gave 'Monty' its backing. Even so, Montgomery found that he could not get the promise of supplies that he needed for Market Garden. On September 11^th, 1944, Montgomery told Eisenhower that, despite the support of the War Office, the attack would have to be postponed due to lack of vital supplies. 'Monty's' tactic worked and Eisenhower immediately flew his chief-of-staff to Montgomery's headquarters to see what supplies he needed.

The Allied Airborne Army comprised of four divisions; two British and two American. Linked to it was the Polish Independent Parachute Brigade lead by Major-General Sosabowski. The two most senior American commanders were Major-General Gavin of the 101^st Division and Major-General Maxwell Taylor of the 82^nd Division. Both men were knowledgeable in airborne warfare. The British First Airborne Division was lead by Major-General Urquhart. He was an unusual choice to lead the Airborne Division as he had never parachuted before, never participated in aglider landing and got airsick. He, himself, expressed his surprise when he was appointed commander of the division.

The First Airborne Division had not taken part in D-Day. It was kept in reserve and had remained inactive after June 1944. A number of planned operations were cancelled at the last minute because they were not needed due to the success of the British armoured columns on the ground. By September 1944, the First Division was "restless, frustrated and ready for anything". Urquhart said that it was:
 
   "battle-hungry to a degree which only those who have commanded large forces of trained soldiers can fully comprehend."
 
The First Division was given the task of capturing the bridge at Arnhem and holding it. The 101^st Division was to capture the Zuid Willems Vaart Canal at Veghel and the Wilhelmina Canal at Son. The 82^nd Division was to capture the bridges at Grave and at Nijmegen.

The attack had to be planned in just six days. Urquhart's First Division faced two major problems; the shortage of aircraft and the belief that the bridge at Arnhem was surrounded by anti-aircraft guns that would make a landing by the bridge itself too difficult.

The Americans were given the priority with regards to aircraft. The capture of the bridge at Arnhem would be pointless if the Americans failed to capture their targets. Therefore, the Americans would be carried to their targets in one lift whereas the attack on Arnhem would be done in three separate lifts during the day. Any night time landings were considered too dangerous.

This posed a major problem for Urquhart. His first force would have the element of surprise and, if the German resistance was minimal, would hold the bridge and secure any landing zones for the gliders. However, any subsequent landings would be after the Germans would have had the time to get themselves organised.

Intelligence reports also showed that the flak around the bridge itself was heavy. This was confirmed by RAF bomber crews who encountered the flak on their regular flights into Germany. Urquhart decided to make his landings to the west away from the bridge even though he knew that this was a risk. If the German resistance was stronger than anticipated, there was the chance of the first landing not even getting to Arnhem Bridge and taking out the flak. British Intelligence reports indicated that the German presence in Arnhem was minimal. It was believed that the Germans only had six infantry divisions in the area with twenty-five artillery guns and only twenty tanks. German troops, in an Intelligence report of September 11^th, were said to be "disorderly and dispirited". A similar report was made on September 17^th.

However, reports from the Dutch Resistance indicated otherwise. On September 15^th, the Dutch had informed the British that several, full strength Waffen-SS units had been seen in the Arnhem area. With typical British inefficiency, the First Airborne Division was given this information on September 20^th - three days after the attack on the bridge at Arnhem had begun. By which time Jamie had been in the cupboard for two days.

Operation Market Garden began on Sunday morning, September 17^th, 1944. Luftwaffe fighters bases had been attacked as had German barracks based near the drop zones. A thousand American and British fighter planes gave cover as the gliders and their 'tugs' crossed the North Sea and headed over mainland Europe. The greatest fear was from flak and Intelligence estimated that the loss of gliders and transport craft could be up to forty percent. As it was, very few of the 1,545 aircraft and 478 gliders were lost.

The 82^nd Division landed without major problems around Grave and Nijmegen. The 101^st Division was equally successful and by nightfall, the Americans and British armoured corps had met up in Eindhoven.

However, by the 18^th September, fog had played its part. The glider and tug flights that were due to cross on the second day could not do so. This affected the 82^nd Division in that Gavin had fewer men to attack the bridges at Waal - especially the road bridge that had held out for three days during the German attack on Holland in 1940. This bridge only fell in the evening of Wednesday 20^th after a combined American/British attack. With this bridge captured, the 30^th Corps armour could race to Arnhem to relieve Urquhart's First Airborne Division there.

At Arnhem, the British met much stiffer opposition than they had been lead to believe. The IX and X SS Panzer Divisions had re-grouped at Arnhem - as Dutch resistance had warned. Both groups comprised of 8,500 men lead by General Willi Bittich. These were not the poorly equipped German troops low in morale that British Intelligence had claimed were stationed at Arnhem. Bittich - a highly regarded General in the Waffen SS - sent the IX SS Division to the British landing zones immediately. The X Division was ordered to Nijmegen to stop the 2^nd Army group advancing on Arnhem. Bittich was confident of success:
 
   "We shall soon be able to discount the threat of the British north of the Neder Rijn. We must remember that British soldiers do not act on their own initiative when they are fighting in a town and when it consequently becomes difficult for officers to exercise control they are amazing in defence, but we need not be afraid of their capabilities in attack." Bittich.
 
The men from the IX Division quickly created a formidable defensive line to stop the British advancing to Arnhem. The British faced a number of serious problems in the landing zone. Nearly all the vehicles used by the Airborne Reconnaissance Squadron were lost when the gliders carrying them failed to land. Therefore the advance into Arnhem itself was delayed but also had to be done almost entirely on foot. The job of the Reconnaissance Squadron was to move off in jeeps etc. in advance and secure bridges and roads. This they could not do after the loss of their vehicles. The maps issued to officers also proved to be less than accurate.

The British paratroopers came under German fire. Only the 2nd Battalion lead by Lt. Col. Frost moved forward with relative ease but even they were occasionally halted by German fire. Frost's men were the most southerly of the British units and the Germans had covered their route to Arnhem less well than the other routes the British were to use. When Frost got to the bridge at Arnhem, he only had about 500 men. He secured the northern end of the bridge and the buildings around it but he remained heavily exposed to a German attack across the bridge as the British had failed to secure the southern end of the bridge. Around Arnhem, British troops, engaged in combat with the SS, took heavy casualties. By now, the Germans were being reinforced with Tiger tanks.

Despite being short of ammunition and with no food or water, Frost's men continued fighting. A German who fought in the final battle for the bridge wrote:
 
   "(The fighting was) an indescribable fanaticism...and the fight raged through ceilings and staircases. hand grenades flew in every direction. Each house had to be taken this way. Some of the British offered resistance to their last breath."
 
The 2^nd Army failed to reach Arnhem. In the final drive - just 10 miles - from where the 2^nd Army was to Arnhem, the SS fought with great skill seriously delaying the forward momentum that the 2nd Army had previously developed. Those British troops who remained in the Arnhem area were caught in land that the SS called 'The Cauldron'. A decision was made to withdraw. Those soldiers that could be evacuated were but many wounded were left behind. In all, over 1,200 British soldiers had been killed and nearly 3,000 had been taken prisoner. 3,400 German troops had been killed or wounded in the battle.

Why did the plan fail?

The speed with which Bittich organised his men and his tactical awareness were major reasons for the Germans victory. However, British Intelligence had ignored Dutch Resistance reports that the SS were in the region. When the men landed they found that their maps were inaccurate regarding the layout of the roads in the Arnhem area. Another major problem was that the radios issued to the men only had a range of 3 miles and they proved to be useless when the various segments of the British army in the area were spread over 8 miles. Such a lack of communication proved a major handicap to the commanders on the ground who rarely knew what other commanders were doing or planning. The landing was also planned to be spread over three days so the Airborne Division was never up to full strength.

Montgomery's plan was a sound one. As Winston Churchill commented: "A great prize was so nearly within our grasp."
 
 
Chapter 2
 
 
The second thing to go wrong, and far more personally for Jamie, was the wind. He had been the last out of his aircraft, so that small gust of wind that caught his canopy pushed him eastwards across the river and landed him on the wrong side. At that time, he was oblivious about the first balls-up. Indeed, he and the rest of the small airborne force were still relying on the bulk of the allied forces to come and relieve them in a day or so.

Such was the general state of confusion, it took him many minutes to realise he was completely alone and trapped by the enemy. He wasn’t aware of it, but there were twenty-six German infantry divisions and two Waffen SS Panzer divisions all around him in the darkness. Fortunately, in the initial stages of the local action, the Germans were as confused as was he, so as they went into action against the bulk of the British paratroopers on the other side of the bridge, he was able to find a bolthole in which to hide.

His original intention was to make for the bridge as planned. Assuming it was in British hands, he still felt that was his best move. However, as he crept through the streets, he realised that the sheer amount of enemy armour and soldiers was far in excess of what Allied commanders had anticipated. He never got anywhere near to the bridge, but he could hear small arms, heavy machine guns and artillery rounds, interspersed with mortars and tank shells, he knew that his comrades were fighting for their lives. In that knowledge, he felt an amazing guilt and sadness because he felt he was letting everyone down, particularly his father.

German tanks and soldiers were everywhere, so Jamie wisely hid, in the hope that things would quieten down so he could meet up with his comrades. Once the advancing allies arrived, he could evade the retreating Germans; hopefully making contact with the division once more.

Initially, there had been sporadic small arms fire coming from the bridge, which was growing in ferocity and depth. As the clanking of German tanks added to the din, he decided that perhaps the bridge was not the best place to aim for after all. He hoped the glider troops would make it in time to assist the small detachment of paratroopers who were obviously severely outnumbered. He felt another pang of guilt, as he should be there with them!

He hid in a shed, eventually dozing as a new day dawned.

He watched from the small woodshed as scores of his comrades were marched to the rear under German guard. He was shocked at their appearance. All were tired and filthy, while many seemed wounded. Feeling guilty and afraid he was tempted simply to surrender, but then he imagined his father’s reaction to his giving up without a fight, so he stayed put.

He was intelligent enough to realise that the Germans were going to have to retreat eventually, so he simply had to wait.

He was right, but it wasn’t happening very quickly, indeed, it seemed the Germans were going to be here for quite a while yet.

Much of the local populace had evacuated as the fierce fighting was causing considerable collateral damage to the town. Homes had been rapidly abandoned by some of the civilian population, with many of the inhabitants leaving the bulk of their possessions behind.

Jamie knew he was too close to the bridge, so as the Germans moved up more armour and supporting infantry, he wisely decided to move further away from the centre of activity. Keeping to building lines and rolling through gardens, he eventually found a small house a fair distance away from the bridge, where he could easily gain access to the river. He knew that if he could just get into the river, he could float down stream and then he should reach the allied forces.

Down a side street, away from the main road, the house he selected was empty, but the water was still flowing from the tap in the kitchen so he drank deeply, filling his water bottle. He had a small pack of dry rations and one bar of chocolate. He had his Webley pistol and his 9 mm Sten sub-machine gun. He knew his respite was to be short lived, so he planned to locate a bolthole, just in case. He would need water and a container for body fluids. Not that he intended to be in the bolthole for that long, but it paid to be prepared.

He found what he was looking for in a back bedroom. It was a cupboard, used as a wardrobe by the previous lady of the house.

The cupboard was set into the wall, with the same floral wallpaper covering the door. It was only the fact it had been left open that caused Jamie to realise it was there, so neat was the wallpaper. A single latch was cunningly recessed into the door, so if one didn’t know it was there, one would never find it. He removed the latch so the door was completely hidden.

He found a large glass jar with a lid, just in case he needed to pass urine whilst incarcerated. He planned to retain any solids, unless it got too much, but then another similar jar was available. He hoped to avoid using it.

Once he'd given the house a quick check, to ensure there was no evidence of his presence, he lay on a bed fully dressed and dozed off, exhaustion and fear knocking him out.

He awoke to the sound of people in the street outside, so he gathered up his kit and made for his bolthole. He was just in time, as he then heard the voices downstairs - German voices!

He opened the wardrobe and, as he had already placed his kit carefully on the floor, all he had to do is get in and pull the door closed behind him. The latch was now on the inside, so there was no way access could be gained from the room, unless by force.

He managed to get everything and himself into the cupboard seconds before the first inquisitive German entered the room.

He breathed a huge sigh of relief, hoping they would just seek loot and then move on. After an hour his heart sank, as they were making themselves at home. They had taken over the house as a temporary billet.

That had been two days ago, and now Jamie was so desperate to get out he was seriously considering surrender.

He eased his aching bones and grimaced, biting his lip again to stop himself crying out in pain. He was so pleased he had stocked up with water, but even that was running out, so he limited himself to a mouthful every hour. He had not eaten anything for fear of having to take a shit. The large glass jar lid now held about a pint of his urine.

Raucous German laughter and the sound of some music gave him a little opportunity to move. The cramps in his legs were bad, and he never recalled experiencing pain quite like it in his life.

He cast his mind back to his school-days. It was the only relief he could make for himself.
 

*          *          *
 
“Well played, Jamie. Good effort lad!” said the headmaster, as the boy ran from the rugby pitch with the rest of the first XV.

Jamie grinned, as he felt pleased with himself. Although not a large chap, his small and wiry stature enabled him to function as a very efficient scrumhalf. His speed and reactions were much quicker than most of the lumbering forwards, and his kicking was second to none.

They had just won the last match of the season, against Fettes College, their major competitor amongst all the Scottish schools. Jamie managed to score the winning try, which he converted.

His father had even managed to take time off from his busy schedule to come and watch. He had shouted himself hoarse as his son’s team succeeded in allowing Glenalmond to squeeze victory in the closing stages of the match.

Brigadier ‘Mad Bill’ William Cameron was so proud of his son. He had been somewhat disappointed when the boy had taken after his late wife. Ellen Simmonds had been a slender and delicate girl when they had met just after the First War. She was so graceful and elegant that he had been smitten totally by the delightful girl.

She in turn had been overwhelmed by the gallant and highly decorated soldier who claimed her hand with such an old-fashioned manner. Her father was delighted, as he was not keen on her other admirers, young men of dubious reputation who had avoided fighting for their country whilst others had gone off so bravely.

They had married in the small church in their village in Hereford. Never had the locals seen such a sight as a dozen Highland officers with swords raised to form an arch outside the church, with the regimental piper playing his pipes as they did so.

However, as a regular soldier, he soon found himself posted overseas and Ellen had not taken well to some of the hotter and more unpleasant climates in which they found themselves. After suffering three miscarriages, she finally returned to England without him when she found herself with child for a fourth time.

It was 1924, and Will was a newly promoted Major. Although India was considered a good posting, Ellen did not want to go through yet another pregnancy without her mother in attendance. She also hated India with a passion. She just could not cope with the arrogance and superior attitudes of the British army wives, as well as the poverty and awful conditions that most of the local people seemed to endure with amazing fortitude.

Jamie was born in February 1925, but his father was unfortunately unable to return for another year after the birth. When Will finally managed to get some home leave, he was surprised at his wife’s physical and mental deterioration.

Childbirth had virtually made her into an invalid - not so much physically, but psychologically. She was the unfortunate victim of post-natal depression before it was really a recognised disorder.

Jamie was destined to be an only child, so his grandparents looked after him more than his mother did. Her parents were quite sprightly, but had some old-fashioned ideas about children and what was acceptable and what was not. However, they lived in a large country house in Wiltshire with a huge garden and private grounds, in which he could lose himself. He became very good at amusing himself and keeping out of harms way.

His lonely childhood was cut short when his father sent him to Stancliffe Hall prep school in 1936. It was a small and pleasant school, which he adored. The headmaster, Hugh Welsh, was a progressive man, who believed that a happy child learns better than an unhappy one.

Ellen Cameron died after a bout of influenza compounded by pneumonia in 1936, when Jamie was eleven. A distant and rather unhappy woman, she had never really been close to her son. Jamie was not as deeply affected by her death as was his father, who experienced severe guilt over her demise.

It was during the funeral that Will observed how much his son resembled his late wife, both in physical appearance and in mannerism and attitude.

Not that Jamie was miserable, in fact, quite the contrary, as he was a cheerful boy with a super smile and wonderful sense of humour. Will recalled Ellen in the early years when she was a fun loving girl who was always cheerful even in the face of severe difficulties.

Jamie wasn’t the large built young man for which Will had hoped. In fact, he was rather too delicate for a boy. Many of the elderly female relatives would venture an opinion that he should have been a girl for he was such a pretty and graceful child.

In September 1938, Jamie progressed to Trinity College, Glenalmond; the very same school that both Will and his father had both attended.

An austere public school set in lovely, but rather isolated surroundings, amongst the heather-clad hills of Perthshire, its whole outlook was not the same as the bright and cheery Stancliffe Hall. It was a tough school, which firmly believed that characters were built through physical endurance and hard work.

However, at thirteen, Jamie was a gifted rugby player and a very bright student. He was well able to adapt to the new school, yet he found life very different to his prep school. He may have survived, but he did not exactly enjoy the experience.

As Jamie moved his position in the cupboard slightly, taking care not to make any noise, he recalled his public school with little enthusiasm. His education had been sound and he played rugby to the highest levels. However, he had not been particularly happy.
 

*          *          *
 
Never really sure why he had felt so out of place, he had just existed through his time there with a feeling that his life was going down the wrong road. A popular boy, but never one of the ‘in-crowd’, Jamie had few good close friends. His disquiet was complete, when within days of leaving school, he was informed of his imminent enlistment into his father’s regiment.

Despite not exactly being the most military minded, he had succeeded in obtaining his Sergeant’s stripes in the OTC cadets. His feeling of not belonging continued when he went through basic training and then during his officer training.

The war had arrived when he was only fourteen, so the school saw profound changes from 1940 onwards. The younger masters left to join the services and rationing started to bite. The food was pretty awful before, so with the rationing, it became almost inedible.

Petrol shortages cut the travelling to play matches to a minimum, and the blackout made the place particularly creepy in winter. With no ambient light from any centres of civilisation, it was a dark place anyway. With no lights at all, the accidents with cars and cycles multiplied enormously.
 

*          *          *
 
Sounds of a female laughing startled Jamie out of his daydream. He didn’t know whether it was night or day outside, and was not even sure how long he had been locked away.

The woman was Dutch, Jamie was able to understand the Germans, as he could speak German, but he had no clue about Dutch.

The sounds changed from laughter and talking to grunting and the rhythmic squeaking of bedsprings. Jamie realised that she was having sex with one of the soldiers. She made a lot of noise, gasping and shrieking with pleasure. Finally, he heard the satisfied grunts of the soldier as he concluded his business.

To Jamie’s horror, the woman then ‘entertained’ three other soldiers, one after the other.

In the end he was bored and slightly disgusted, as well as curious and perhaps a little envious.

His sexual experience was precisely nil!

He had been away at all boy boarding schools since he was eight. Even in the holidays, his life with his grandparents had been about as exciting as a Benedictine Monk.

With the exception of a few female cousins who more resembled horses than humans, he had hardly had any opportunity to mix with the opposite gender at all.

He was aware of the theories, as with all public schools, there were so many resident experts, all voicing their opinions as to methods, approaches and functions, but he felt thoroughly confused and inept at dealing with women.

However, there had been a couple of young men at the school who, rather than possessing the expected and acceptable attraction to girls, were obviously attracted to young boys. Jamie was often a target for both the boys and the occasional master with similar afflictions. He had been warned, in a brief and rather perplexing talk, by his father, so was able to firmly put these ‘queers’ in their place.

Jamie was satisfied that he was not one of them, although he found it intriguing that they existed, so he was uncertain as to where in the scheme of things he fitted. He did not feel he belonged anywhere in particular.

He was rather embarrassed, as although he appeared to be equipped as his contemporaries, albeit somewhat smaller, he was at a loss to comprehend why he did not seem to have the same physical responses as they seemed to. As they discussed such technical activities as ‘erections’ and ‘masturbating’, Jamie would invent similar experiences, whilst in reality he didn’t have the faintest idea as to what they referred.

He knew the theory, but his experience was that his equipment just didn’t work. However, he didn’t know how to inform anyone, and didn’t wish to speak to any doctor about it in case his father would be ashamed of him.

After he left school, he had spent some time with his grandparents before going to the regiment. Those times he mixed with girls, he found himself out of his depth and unable to make much headway with them. Besides, with the scores of American servicemen, with their money and fancy ways, few girls had time for a tongue-tied self-conscious young man, who was not even in uniform yet.

As a young teenager, he actually related to girls quite well, but as soon as sexual interests came into the arena, he seemed to just fade to the sidelines. It was as if the girls did not see him as a contender.

The woman finished servicing the Germans, he heard one soldier paying her, for he counted out some money as if for a child. He heard his slightly inebriated voice counting slowly and loudly. The woman was Dutch and did not speak German, so he treated her like a deaf imbecile.

Silence reigned for a short while, so Jamie fell asleep once more.
 

*          *          *
 
Jamie awoke with a start.

There was a lot of shouting and noise in the house, so he was terrified that he was about to be discovered. He grabbed his Sten-gun, holding it ready.

There was much movement and cursing in German. He was grateful he had chosen German as a subject for School Certificate. Although not quite fluent, he had a natural flair for languages and could understand perfectly what the Germans were saying, and he knew he could more than make himself understood if needs be.

They were moving out. An NCO was trying to gather up his platoon, which was billeted up and down the street. The man had found another section with a woman, probably the same one, Jamie thought ruefully, so was raising merry hell. The woman was screaming and he was threatening her with the military police.

Jamie had absolutely no idea what he was going to do. Even if he managed to get out of the cupboard, he had no idea where the enemy was, he had no idea where the allies were, and neither could he speak Dutch.

He didn’t know if he was in a curfew zone, or whether special papers were required. He didn’t want to be a POW, but then he definitely didn’t want to be shot.

He could speak good German, but as a foreigner, and French almost fluently. His best bet, therefore, would be to disguise himself as French worker, to try to bluff his way back towards the allied lines. His French was much better than his German, courtesy of his French Grandmother, so he started to formulate some plans. He needed to focus his mind on something, as he was in danger of going mad in the cupboard.

He remembered his training. They had told him that the Germans had recruited foreign workers to go all over the occupied zone. Men and women with skills were forcibly conscripted and transported to where they could be of some use to the German war-machine. Many Dutch and Norwegian soldiers ended up in the Germanic Legions fighting the Russians on the Eastern front. In the pre-operation briefing, he had been instructed that if he should become separated from his unit, then he had to evade the Germans and their allies to attempt to make contact with the resistance.

Sitting in a large hanger with many other men to receive the briefing, all eagerly anticipating action, hadn’t been a moment of deep concentration, besides, he did not know whom to trust. With the front line in a state of constant flux, he just hoped to find somewhere to wait and let the Allies come to him.

He knew his French was excellent, as he was able to speak it with a southern accent. For not only did his grandmother help him by speaking it much of the time, but her sister, his great-aunt, lived near Menton in the fashionable south of France. He spent many summers at the villa and so he had managed to improve his language skills whilst spending time there. It was the only time he came into contact with a girl with whom he had progressed beyond simply speaking. Janine was a pretty, dark haired beauty. She was the daughter of his great aunt’s housekeeper and was about a year older than he was.

He had met her whilst wandering the orchard to the south of the villa. He had been fourteen, it was August 1939, and, as always, he was in a bit of a daydream.

She had been up a tree, helping herself to some apples. He had walked past unaware of her presence. She had thrown an apple at him, so he had turned round, startled.

“Bonjour,” she had said.

He looked around but still failed to see her.

“Hoy. English. Opp ’ere,” she had said in broken English.

He saw her then and smiled.

“I’m not English,” he had said.

She jumped down, showing an indecent amount of leg and knickers in the process.

“Oui, you are. I ’ave, er, seen you. Votre grande-tante, she live in the big ’ouse, an’ you lives, avec, wiz her.”

He had smiled at her broken English and switched to French.

“I am staying with my great-aunt, but I am Scottish, not English,” he said.

She smiled, obviously relieved to speak her own language.

“It is the same thing, isn’t it?”

“No more than calling you Belgian or Algerian. Just because we speak the same language does not make us all the same country.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. So the Welsh and the Irish are different too?”

“Absolutely.”

That had been the start, but unfortunately, the war had prevented the pair from getting to know each other any better. Had the war not come when it did, he might have gone beyond that one sneaky kiss they had shared when they had said goodbye.

However, an excellent teacher in his prep school also improved his French, as well as by the help of a close friend of his grandparents. Yvette was a charming Frenchwoman, who had married an English Officer after the First War. They had settled in rural Wiltshire, and had three children.

She had been a close friend of Jamie’s mother, so was invaluable in helping to bring up the boy. Her own children were considerably older, yet she adored the small English boy with the sad smile.

Jamie smiled as he recalled the many happy times he had spent with Yvette, who always insisted that only French be used in her house.
 

*          *          *
 
The Germans eventually went quiet, so he hoped and prayed that they had gone. He eased his legs, searching for the latch in the dark. He put his ear to the wood and strained to hear anything to give him a clue of whether someone was on the other side.

Hearing nothing, he gently eased the door open, just a crack. Dim light came in and even so, it made him screw his eyes shut.

The door opened a few inches and then stuck. He pushed a little harder and it gradually opened enough for him to get his head round.

The Germans had erected an additional bed in the room, which was now tight up against the door. With some difficulty, much sweating and some pain, he managed to extricate himself and his kit. With his Sten at the ready, he slowly checked the house. It was empty, but the enemy had left behind a real mess, having stolen nearly anything that hadn’t been nailed down.

He was very stiff, but it was such a relief to be out of his self-made dungeon.

He stretched his arms and legs, enjoying sensations, of which he had for so long been deprived.

It was night, so Jamie checked his watch. He saw that it was half past two in the morning. The Germans had left in a hurry, for he found half a loaf and some wine. He drank the lot and then wolfed the bread down. He felt so much better now he was able to move freely.

He went back upstairs and emptied his jar into the lavatory. A familiar rumble caused him some alarm. He looked out of the window and saw two Tiger Tanks roll along a main road, some distance from the house. He could see the German helmets in the nearby streets, so was astute enough to recognise an army digging in for a major assault.

He went back into his bedroom, where he decided to get rid of his uniform. Giving up any ambition to rejoin his unit, he now decided to put his plan into action.

Standing in his underwear, he thoroughly searched the house for male clothing, but found none. There was however, locked away in an attic chest, sufficient female attire to clothe several women for several months, yet nothing for a man. There was even plenty of makeup and a blonde wig.

He could find no identity cards for anyone, male or female, so he was seriously worried. Once again, he considered just giving himself up. At least the war couldn’t go on that much longer. They kept saying it should be over by Christmas. Mind you, they had been saying that since 1939.

Left with no other choices, Jamie made a decision. He pinned up the blackout curtain and lit a couple of candles he found under the sink in the kitchen. He stripped off all his clothes and dressed in a one-piece corset and bra, which had stocking supports attached to the bottom end. He rolled up some socks and placed them into the bra cups. He wedged his small member between his legs and put on a really tight pair of knickers to keep it hidden.

There were a few stockings left in a drawer, and he rolled a pair onto his legs. Then he noticed the amount of fine fair hair he had on his legs. The Germans may like hairy women, but he wouldn’t convince anyone he was a girl like this!

He then took them off again and shaved his legs, using his safety razor and cold water. This time, the stockings went on smoothly, looking much more convincing.

He had not yet really started beard growth, but he shaved in some cold water none-the-less. Using the makeup, he put some eyeliner round his eyes and a little powder on his nose and face. The lipstick was very red, yet he applied it with a steady hand and looked at the result in the dim light. He smiled as he was thankful now that they had chosen him to play a girl in plays more than once, due to his slight frame and ‘pretty’ looks.

He had been teased about his ‘girly-looks’, which hadn’t been helped by the most wonderful eyelashes. He had been so teased, that one day he took a pair of scissors and cut the offending lashes. Much to his disgust, his lashes had grown back quite rapidly, appearing longer and even more luxurious.

There was a little tub of blue, so he dabbed a little above each eye.

He tried to brush his own hair into some semblance of a feminine style. No matter what he did, it looked stupid, as he knew it was far too short. It may have been on the long side for a soldier, but it was still too short and masculine to be passable.

The wig was a good one, but quite tangled. He teased it with a brush, until it looked more presentable, and then put it on. The hair came down to his shoulders and was a surprisingly good match for his own colour. Using a couple of hair clips, he attached it to his own hair, hoping that the wind would not increase and unmask him at the wrong moment.

He noticed some nail varnish, so he shaped his nails with a file and painted them. He put a full-length slip/petticoat on, slipping on a floral dress he found in the wardrobe. He discovered a fawn jacket that went reasonably over it. Shoes proved to be a problem. There were no shoes without heels of some sort. Three pairs fitted him, yet all were high-heeled. He put the most comfortable pair on.

There was a small battered suitcase under the bed, so he filled it with spare underwear, stockings, shoes, dresses, skirts and blouses, two cardigans and a nightdress. He placed all the makeup into a handbag, together with some Dutch Guilders that he had been issued with prior to taking off in England, and a hairbrush. He found a towel in the airing cupboard and put that into his case.

He went and admired himself in the mirror. The disconcerting figure stared back at him.

He stood for many moments lost in wonder at the transformation that he had undergone. He knew that he felt strange and that it itself upset him. For the strangeness was not because he felt odd, rather that he felt almost at home in these unfamiliar clothes.

The girl was pretty and utterly convincing. At least she was to him, and at this moment, he needed her to be.

He felt nervous and afraid. Somehow, he liked what he saw and, not for the first time, this caused him extra confusion and consternation.

The first time had been the when he had to don girl’s clothes for a play at Glenalmond. He had been fourteen and a treble in the choir. His feminine appearance had meant that they often selected him to play girl’s parts. However, at the public school, when sexual awakenings were going on all around him. It seemed more complex and rather difficult. He had to play opposite a large eighteen year old in a musical comedy.

He had found wearing girl’s clothes alarmingly pleasant. Not in any sexual sense, but it was almost as if it were more natural for him to be a girl, rather than just look like one. Once he got over the embarrassment, he found he took to the role naturally, and even found that the feminine gestures and mannerisms were second nature. The reviews were all very complementary, but many boys teased him about it for some months. If he hadn’t been such a good rugby player, he would have found it all very difficult.

For some strange reason, if one was a good rugby player, then one could be forgiven all manner of ills, even portraying a female role in a play.

He hadn’t had time to dwell on the feeling, but they asked him to repeat the experience in two more plays before the end of his time there. The last time had only been a couple of years ago, and he had experienced a degree of sexual thrill from being a girl.

It wasn’t the clothes that gave him the thrill, it never was. It was simply that he liked being a girl. It felt so right! He could never talk about this to anyone, but he was so consumed with guilt and shame he hardly dared even think through what he actually did feel.

The guilt he carried after that was still burdening his soul, so he dared not even think about it for the feelings the memories evoked.

The ‘girl’ wrapped a headscarf around her head, in gypsy fashion, with the tie behind the head, rather than below the chin. This was partly to keep her hair in place and partly to give the impression of being a refugee rather than a prostitute.

He wrapped his uniform in a blanket and buried it under the shrubbery the small garden. He was tempted to keep his Sten gun and Webley, but knew if caught he would be shot immediately. He took his dog-tags from around his neck and looked at them in his hand.

To keep them and to be found with them, meant POW camp at best, or being shot as a spy at worst. Not to have them meant that he might have difficulties identifying himself later to the allies. He made his decision, and hurled them as far away as he could.

He didn’t even look to see where they landed.
 

*          *          *
 
It was just after dawn when the new Jamie ventured forth, creeping down the street towards the outskirts of the town. He just had to get out of the town and then try to head south and west.

He kept to the edges of the street, along the building line and was careful about crossing the road. He felt a strange thrill from the clothes. The unfamiliar stockings were amazingly pleasant, and even the restrictions on his private parts seemed to make him appear more ‘normal’. He found he seemed to naturally adopt feminine mannerisms and gestures. He smiled, as he found it easier if he imagined that he was his mother.

He had adored her, despite the fact that she had always been distant and somewhat strange. An angelic creature in some ways, yet even now he was unable to think of her without feeling melancholy.

There were a few Dutch civilians, scuttling hither and thither, all looking fearful and furtive. Few gave him a second glance and those who did, for any length of time, tended to be male, and they smiled slightly but moved on, dropping their gaze and without saying anything. However, there were a great many soldiers about, all German, and all eyed the girl with open and frankly admiring glances.

Several wolf whistles were directed his way and he caught more than one complimentary remark as well as some openly obscene suggestions.

Certainly, his confidence received a boost, as no one seemed to think he was anything other than that which he purported to be. His face was reddening as some of the suggestions left little to the imagination.

After walking for half an hour, he had managed to get free of the town, and for about a mile further on before a shout alerted him to the fact his presence was just called into question.

“Há¤lt, der ist Sie?”
 
 
Chapter 3
 
 
“Há¤lt, der ist Sie?” the voice repeated.

Jamie stopped dead and put the case down. His heart was racing, as he feared the soldier would discover his masquerade any moment. He waited for the man to come to him, making no sudden moves. He half expected the man to laugh at his pathetic attempt to disguise himself, rip off the wig and then shoot him for being a spy.

As the soldier approached, Jamie could smell the sweaty, unwashed body and stale cigarette smoke on his breath. The man repeated his question.

“Who are you?”

Jamie turned and looked him straight in the eye. The German wasn’t that much older than he was, but by his demeanour and general bearing, he had seen a lot of action. He was a big young man and used to authority. The metal half-moon brassard plate suspended round his neck identified him as a military policeman, which explained his general confident attitude.

There was a German military police check-point cleverly camouflaged at the side of the road, with a chicane of sand bags and barbed wire that would slow vehicular traffic down.

Corporal Heinz Rausmann had seen many civilians fleeing the fighting, so could see little difference with this girl. She was pretty and dressed quite smartly. Not your usual refugee, because she was clean and didn’t run away from him and quiver with fear.

He held his machine pistol casually in his hands, not pointing it at her at any time.

“My name is Janine Chavanay. I am a French worker, caught by the fighting. I was hoping to escape now it was quiet,” Jamie said, in basic and slightly accented German. He had tried to make his voice as feminine as he could. The first girl’s name that came to his mind was that of his friend from all those years ago. The surname was his grandmother’s maiden name.

The military policeman frowned.

“You aren’t Dutch?” he said.

“No. As I told you, I am French. I was working as an interpreter for a medical unit, but it was transferred from France to Belgium, and then again a couple of weeks ago to near this town, before being disbanded and regrouped. No one asked me whether I spoke Dutch when we got the orders to move. We didn’t even know where they were moving to,” Jamie said.

“Papers?”

“I have none. When the fighting started in France, my papers were held by the unit when it was pulled back. That way, I couldn’t leave the medical unit. I was not able to find where the papers were taken after the reorganisation. Then the British attacked, so I grabbed my suitcase and hid in a cellar for ages.”

The soldier looked at the girl closely. A pretty girl, who was not the usual sort he had to deal with. She looked tired and pale, yet her answers had displayed that she was unafraid, spirited and educated. No moronic scared local, a genuine victim and he felt sorry for her. He made a decision.

“Where is your uniform?”

“I never had one. I’m an interpreter, not a nursing auxiliary. My job was to help with the German and French, not the messy bits,” the girl looked embarrassed. “I’m not very good with blood and gore.”

To Jamie’s relief, the man gave a short laugh.

“Not many of us are, sweetheart. Come with me to the Police post. We’ll try to get you some emergency papers. Where do you hope to go?”

“Honestly?”

“Ja.”

“Home, to France. But the Allies are there now and I have heard that the Free French shave the heads of female collaborators, parade them through the town before raping and shooting them.”

Heinz nodded his head. He had seen many things in this war, so nothing surprised him any more. Tired of fighting, all he wanted to do was get back to his family in Bavaria, so he felt even sorrier for the girl.

He made her accompany him to the police unit, situated in the outskirts of the next town. He watched her carefully for signs of fear or nerves. She displayed neither, but simply shrugged and picked up her case.

At the police unit HQ, which was in fact the local police station, he sat her down on a bench in a secure holding area and gave her a watery cup of ersatz coffee made of acorns.

“Wait here. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Danke.”

He went and spoke with his Sergeant Major. He told Sgt. Major Webber about the girl. The man looked at the girl sitting sipping her coffee. She did not appear to be the usual scrubber who seemed to follow the army around. A pretty thing, a little taller than average, but very elegant, well dressed and looking rather tired.

He smiled, weren’t they all?

“Heinz, you can’t just go picking up any pretty girl just because she reminds you of your sister.”

“Sorry boss, but she just looked so fucking lost. Besides, the damn French would shave off all her hair and probably shoot her after raping her to buggery!”

“What the fuck do we do with her? This is a fucking combat zone. She shouldn’t even be here. So, I suppose you were right to bring her in. How do we know she isn’t a fucking spy?”

“Come on boss, she’s just a frightened girl.”

“Did you search her case?”

“No.”

“Then do it. If she is clean, then we might do something for her. If not, then we turn her over to the SS.”

“Shit, for real?”

“Heinz, you aren’t a stupid bloke, so stop acting like one. Go do your job.”

“Yes sir.”

Heinz walked over to the girl.

Jamie looked up as he approached.

He smiled sympathetically.

“Sorry, but my boss says I have to check your case.”

“Why, in case I have a transmitter or something?”

“Something like that,” he said apologetically.

She pushed the case towards him.

“Go on, I have only my clothes. I left my secret transmitter and decoding device in my old knickers.”

Heinz laughed, but still searched her case. Without a word, she passed him her bag, so he searched that too.

The relief on the soldier’s face was apparent.

“You’re clean,” he said, and she rewarded him with a smile that warmed his heart. She really was a very pretty girl.

“Actually, I’d kill for a hot bath,” she said and he laughed.

“You and me both, sweetheart, let me tell my boss. I won’t be long.”

The Sergeant Major was now talking with one of the SS officers. The Waffen SS were at this moment mopping up the last of the British airborne division in and beyond Arnhem, which was withdrawing, leaving behind so many wounded men. This man was not Waffen SS, but the officer in charge of the SS Police Unit. The Dutch resistance were a continual thorn in the side of the Germans, so his job was to try to combat their activities.

Heinz stood patiently to one side until he was finished. Webber saw him and nodded.

“Yes, Corporal?”

“Sir, the girl is clean.”

“So, give her a pass and get her the fuck out of here.”

“What girl?” asked the officer, an Obersturmbannfuehrer.¹

“Just a French girl. She had been with one of our medical units pulled in from France or Belgium, and now it has been disbanded, she was left to her own devices, sir.”

“How do you know she is not a terrorist?”

“Sir, she seems okay to me.”

“Have you searched her?”

“I’ve searched her case. Just clothes; no food, nothing!”

“I asked if you had searched her?”

“No sir.”

“I suggest you do so. We don’t want her whipping a grenade out of her knickers and killing us all, now do we?”

“No sir.”

Arsehole! Thought Heinz.

He went back to the girl and found her standing up, with her arms out to her side. She had heard the conversation, so was ready to cooperate. The last thing she wanted was a strip search by large German women.

“Just don’t tickle, please,” she said with a little smile.

Heinz smiled and pretended to search her thoroughly.

“Thanks. Sorry about this, but the man is a complete bastard!”

She smiled at him, and he felt she was the most gracious girl he’d ever met.

He went and reported to the SS officer.

“Nothing sir. No grenade in the knickers, Sir.”

The officer looked at him to see if he was being facetious. Heinz kept a straight face, staring at a spot above the man’s head.

“What use is some bloody nurse? Just get her away from the combat zone.”

“Sir, with respect, she isn’t a nurse. She was employed as an interpreter. She speaks German almost perfectly, and French of course.”

“A French interpreter? What good is she here in Holland, when we are fighting the English and Americans? Now, if she spoke English, then we could use her. Half the bloody English paratroopers are in hospital, so we could do with someone to assist our intelligence officers.”

“I could ask if she speaks English as well, if you want, sir?”

The officer made no comment, but Sergeant Major Webber simply nodded, so Heinz returned to where the girl was waiting. Her head had flopped back against the wall and she looked asleep.

He gently touched her arm and she jumped, looking very scared for a second.

“I’m sorry, I forgot where I was for a moment,” she said.

“That’s okay. This fucking war takes it out of all of us. Tell me, do you speak English as well as German?”

Jamie’s heart quickened. What should he say? Should he deny it and then be found out later?

“Yes,” Jamie said, deciding honesty was the most effective policy.

“How well?”

“Almost fluent,” he said.

“Right. I think we might have a job for you.” He said, turning away with Jamie staring after him.

“Sir?” Heinz said to the officer.

“Yes?”

“The girl speaks good English, sir.”

“Excellent! You said we were using her before. Which unit?”

“I don’t think even she knows that, sir. She said she was with one medical unit in France and then another in Belgium. What with all the retreating, she was just swept along with the flow.”

“This is a mess. Still the British got a bloody nose this time. But they’ll be back and the damned Americans are sure to add their weight, no matter how wasteful they are.”

Heinz didn’t risk a comment. The SS could be nasty bastards and he hadn’t survived this long by speaking out of turn.

“Well, I’m busy just now. Sergeant Major, interview the girl and ascertain which medical unit she was with. I want to establish she is not one of these damned terrorists.”

“Yes sir. Corporal, take her to room four.”

“Sir.”

Heinz felt even more sympathy for the girl now, but he did as ordered and took the girl to a small interview room. She sat on one of only two chairs. There was a small table between them. He allowed her to keep the case of clothes. He had checked them, after all.

Jamie sat and fretted, as an austere female in dark uniform entered the room and stood by the door. A few moments later Webber entered and sat on the other chair.

He looked at the girl, who looked tired and drawn. She didn’t look like a desperate resistance fighter.

He went through her story, and she repeated the answers she had already given. Jamie had no way of knowing that this area had been a transit area for a great many units in the past month. Six medical units had been and gone, so even Webber was unsure exactly from whence they had come and where they now were.

In the end, he was satisfied that she was just a young girl out of place and lost in the maelstrom of human flotsam that war creates. He went and reported to the SS Obersturmbannfuehrer.

“Sir, I am satisfied the girl is as she claims.”

“Excellent! Take her to the SS billet at the hotel just down the road. Get her a room, and then bring her to me at nine o’clock. I’ll be in my office.”

“Yes sir!”

Webber found Heinz grabbing a crafty cigarette out the back.

“Heinz, our lord and master wants to use her as an interpreter. Get her over to the hotel. He wants her in his office by nine, so get a move on.”

Heinz returned a few moments later to where the girl was. She was lying across the table now, her head on her bag and was sound asleep. He looked at her exquisitely shaped legs.

These were what girl’s legs should look like. He thought. Not those tree trunks the Party kept selling as the epitome of Aryan womanhood.

He gently nudged her awake, and once again he saw the fear and uncertainty in her eyes as she awoke. Once she saw where she was, she relaxed and smiled.

Heinz smiled.

“The Obersturmbannfuehrer has told us to get you a room in the hotel. All the SS personnel are billeted there, so it looks like he has plans for you.”

“Plans?” she asked, once more the fear sprang into her eyes, as well as being apparent in her voice.

“You’re an interpreter, so he happens to need one with all the British POWs. You may find yourself helping the Police Unit.”

“But he is SS,” she said, confused.

“The SS run the police. Apart from the two SS panzer Divisions under General Bittich, the SS are everywhere in this region. You have the civil police, some military police, Gestapo and SS all operating under the local SS Police commander. It seems that you will be working for us.”

Jamie was silent. This was getting more and more dangerous. It was also surreal, and he just managed to see the ridiculous side as well. He managed to smile. How stupid all this was!

Heinz took the girl in the Kubelwagen to the hotel and he explained her circumstances to the SS Scharfuehrer² on the desk. It had been a good quality hotel before hostilities, and as ever, the SS always managed to requisition the finer facilities for their own use.

The Scharfuehrer looked at the tall slender girl, and as with the Corporal, he liked what he saw. She smiled uncertainly at him and he could see the disquiet in those blue eyes.

“It’s all right, my love, we don’t bite. Unless you happen to be an enemy of the Reich,” he said and laughed to signify he was joking.

Jamie managed to smile, and it transformed his face.

“I’ll put you in room 108. It has its own bathroom, so you can have a bath if you want. There should be some hot water, but it will be all gone by nine,” he said and handed her a key.

“She has to be in Obersturmbannfuehrer Willi Kranz’s office by nine.” Heinz told the Scharfuehrer.

The Scharfuehrer looked at his watch. It was an American watch, he had ‘liberated’ it from a dead American pilot a year ago.

“You have one hour, so make the most of it,” he said to the girl.

“Thanks,” she replied, smiling at each of the men.

Heinz watched her go up the stairs and the Scharfuehrer turned to him.

“Where did you find her?”

“Scurrying out of Anhem at dawn. Poor cow, she was bleeding terrified. She’d been hiding in a cellar as she was near the bridge when the Tommies landed.”

“This war is a fucking nightmare. I just hope to hell we have homes to go back to.”

“Yeah, me too,” said Heinz.”

“Are you coming to collect her at nine?”

“I hadn’t thought. Can you send someone with her? I’m supposed to be on a check point, my blokes will get the hump if I’m not there.”

“Yeah, I’ll fine someone.”

Heinz nodded and left the hotel. The girl’s smile kept haunting him for much of the day.

Jamie found the room and looked at the bed longingly. The cupboard had not been the best place for sleeping, but now he knew he’d sleep for over twelve hours if given a chance.

He caught his reflection in the mirror and caught his breath.

No longer in candle light, he could see that he was more than convincing. His problem, if anything, was that he had made the girl too attractive. He locked the door and ran a shallow bath. There was a small bar of soap in his case and he had a good wash.

He washed and shaved all parts he could reach and enjoyed lying in the warm water.

He looked down at his body and frowned.

He knew he was male, but his shape was certainly not the typical male shape, nor was it the body he had at one time aspired. His waist was too slender, yet his hips were a little too broad. His slender arms and narrow shoulders were more female than male, despite the lithe muscles, he did not look desperately masculine.

He had always been a little embarrassed by his appearance and in particular his small genitalia. As he looked at them, he was aware that even here he was not the well-endowed male that everyone else at school and in the army seemed to have been.

They told him that he would change with puberty. He never had, not properly at any rate. Even his voice retained the boyish quality and never really broke to his satisfaction.

In actual fact, Jamie Cameron was one in five thousand children who had been born inter-sexed. Most were surgically corrected within a short space of time after birth. However, such was his mother’s phobia of surgeons and hospitals that Jamie was whisked home at the first opportunity. He was simply christened with the male name as his apparent male genitalia were more prominent and obvious than the female.

However, that had been a mistake, for the male genitalia were simply slightly distended female items, and the little girl was destined to be brought up as a boy. There were other factors which complicated the child’s development, mainly relating to the fact that some of the internal problem prevented appropriate development of the female organs, which failed to manufacture the correct hormone balance.

His father was never told the truth, as Jamie’s grandparents kept his mother’s secret for all these years. As time progressed, the ‘boy’ seemed content enough, so his female side seemed to be hidden, both the physical and the psychological.

The fact he seemed to thrive and succeed so well at school, signified to his grandparents that they had made the right choice. However, they were not to know the inner turmoil the boy suffered, and the anguish of not actually feeling he belonged.

Jamie had never questioned his condition, as he was as unaware of it as the rest of the world. As a pubescent youth, he had wondered why his things weren’t changing as others were, as he had found a strange hollow between his legs that he did not fully understand.

The fact his testes were very small and his penis insignificant, he did not question, he merely became self-conscious and shy about being naked with others around. He also was not particularly upset that he did not seem to experience erections as did other boys.

As he probed with his fingers, as never before, this time feeling that he was on the verge of understanding, yet unsure of what.

He had, as everyone else had, completely taken his body for granted. Sex had never been an issue, and only now did he start to seriously question his masculinity.

Why did he feel so at home dressed as a girl?

Why did his body more resemble a female’s than a male?

Why did he have a depression beneath his scrotum, and what was the flap of skin towards the anus?

However his chest was as flat as ever.

Or, was it?

He noted his nipples were sensitive, and the flesh behind them was slightly puffy, swollen and tender.

Why?

He had neither the time nor the opportunity to find answers to these questions at this moment. He got out and dried himself, unaware that the deep shock he had recently undergone had triggered the release of oestrogen in his - or more correctly - her underdeveloped ovaries.

She dressed in the same clothes as before, experiencing the same warm feeling of belonging as she finished off by applying a little makeup. She decided to do something with the wig. Left at shoulder length, it was more prone to be held, caught and pulled off, whether by accident or design.

She spent several valuable minutes braiding it to each side and clipping it in a fashionable yet ordered manner. It looked faintly Teutonic when she at last firmly clipped it on her head. She smiled and the girl smiled back.

No matter how hard she tried, she could not see the man that had been Jamie Cameron. It neither worried nor upset her, and the girl’s smile was real.

Leaving the case in the room, the girl went back downstairs and found a Sturmann³ waiting by the desk.

“This man will take you to the Obersturmbannfuehrer,” the Scharfuehrer told her.

She smiled her thanks and followed the Sturmann to the waiting Kubelwagen. She sat in silence next to the Sturmann as he drove her back to meet the Obersturmbannfuehrer.

Willi Kranz liked the girl immediately. She was blonde, and that was always his starting point. She had a good Aryan face, fine features and a nice figure. She needed a bit more in the breast department, but seemed to have good childbearing hips and superbly firm, yet beautiful legs. She was probably underfed and so, with a good diet, would fill out nicely.

Her blue eyes met his stare unwaveringly. He smiled, as he liked them with spirit.

“I am Obersturmbannfuehrer Willi Kranz. What is your name?”

“Janine Chavanay.”

“You are French?”

“Yes.”

“You speak excellent German.”

“Thank you. But I know it is not quite fluent.”

“It’s good enough. I understand you have been assisting one of our medical units?”

“Yes, as an interpreter.”

“How did that come about?”

“There was a time in France when your medical officers wanted someone who could speak German and French. The men had all gone and I was sixteen and available. I was used in the main Hospital at Reims to help the doctors deal with German patients who had no French. I was later used in a field hospital when French casualties were brought in for German medical staff.

“How old are you now?”

“Nineteen.”

He looked at her. She looked older. The war had brought changes, and he knew he looked older than his thirty-eight years.

“How come you speak such good German?”

“My mother insisted I learn it, and English too.”

“Why?”

Jamie shrugged, and her brain worked overtime to make up a believable yet un-confirmable story.

“My mother was unsure who my father was. She was working as a nurse in a Medical Station in Africa. Germans and British came and went, and my mother had many lovers. I was the result of one of her affairs. She always hoped that it was either a German Officer, or a British officer, so he would come back and marry her.”

“And they never did?”

She smiled and shook her head.

“No, she died of cholera, and I was brought up by my grandparents in Reims. My grandfather spoke German, so he taught me to speak it too. He had been a prisoner of the Germans in the first war.”

“You are aware that your countrymen don’t exactly welcome back those seen as collaborators with the Reich?”

She shrugged, a gesture that was so Gallic that the German smiled.

“I’m a realist. I was forced to work for you back then, but I’m aware that they will see it as a choice. After all, my work did bring better rations and some luxuries for the family. I chose to come with the medical unit, as my life would be made very unpleasant once the Germans moved out. I have to live with that choice. All I can hope for is to find somewhere I can live when all this stupidity is over.”

“Fraulein, it seems that the Fatherland has further needs of your services. I understand that you speak good English as well as German and French?” He spoke to her in German and she replied in the same language. He could hear her slightly strange accent.

“Yes. Our neighbours had English cousins, and they would come over in the summer holidays, so I picked up more English with them.”

Willi stood up and walked over to the window and looked out.

“This war is far from over. The Fuhrer has some surprises up his sleeve for our enemies. They will never conquer the Fatherland. They may take away some of the occupied territory for a while, but Germany shall Prevail!”

He turned and smiled at her. He noticed she was wearing a man’s wristwatch. He walked over and took her by the left wrist, and raised it to see the watch more clearly.

“Swiss, a good make. Why do you wear a man’s watch?”

“Because in my work I need something I can see well and has luminous hands. It’s my night clock as well as my wristwatch. It was a present from a French pilot I knew. He is dead now.”

“Your lover?”

The girl flushed.

“In time perhaps. I have yet to experience that pleasure. The war keeps taking the men I like from me,” she said evenly.

Willi let her wrist go.

“War is not a good time for women,” he said.

“War is not a good time for anyone,” she countered.

“Quite. Then, we need your presence in the military hospital. There are many wounded enemy soldiers. You can help the medical personnel to give them the correct treatments. Also, we need to interview them so as to prevent further foolish loss of life.”

Willi paused, considering carefully how he should deal with this girl. She wasn’t German, yet clearly she had been drafted in to help and was still here. She couldn’t go home, for prejudice and persecution would make her life miserable at best and take her life at worst.

She was too young to let go and to leave to her own devices. He knew what a roving army patrol could do to such an attractive girl, regardless of nationality. Not bring Dutch would make her foreign in the eyes of the locals, so that was a consideration.

He decided to place her under his protection in the most effective manner he could. He called in an orderly.

“You are now directly under the command of the SS Police Unit responsible for combating terrorist activity and gathering intelligence from any source we can find.

“This may be somewhat different to your previous tasks, and so it will be necessary for you to become an SS auxiliary. This man will take you to the SS quartermaster, and you will be issued with a suitable uniform. Then he will escort you to the hospital, and you will report to SS Sturmbannfuehrerf⁴ Otto Schneider. He is in charge of all POW screening and interrogations.”

Jamie’s heart sank. This was getting out of control. How the hell was she supposed to get out of this?

The girl simply nodded, accompanying the Sturmann in the Kubelwagen to a large warehouse just down the road. Some of the SS seemed to be in the process of moving out. At least the support organisation was on the move, if not the actual troops.

They managed to get someone to sort out a uniform for her. A disinterested female SS auxiliary simply handed her one set of everything. The interpreter flashes were given to her loose, so she could sew them on at her leisure. They at least gave her a sewing kit with which to do so.

They took her back to the hotel so she could change. It was weird, for Jamie now actually thought of herself as a female, unless she thought too deeply about her past. The uniform was rather austere; a stark reminder of the danger in which she had now placed herself. She pulled on the long black boots and was pleased at how well they fitted. She looked at the death’s head skull on the forage cap, before placing the black cap on her head at a rakish angle.

She looked into a mirror and was staggered at her reflection.

Whatever she had been, had vanished, replaced by a veritable Valkyrie.
 
 
Chapter 4
 
 
Jamie stared into those blue eyes and it was as if she was staring at a complete stranger. Gone was the boy, gone also was the strange ambiguous boy/girl that she had created. For here was a girl who was determined to stay. Here was the person she had always been.

The girl smiled at her reflection and gave herself a salute. Not the palm-forward style of the British army, but with the palm down, in German style and clicked her heels together.

Jamie had finally found who she was. She wasn’t a boy. Deep down, she was unsure whether she was truly a girl yet, but she was going to have a go at least. The world has pushed her into being something she wasn’t sure she wanted to be for the first nineteen years, so now she decided to make up her own rules as she went along. If they discovered her, they would shoot her, but then at least she could say she tried.

She locked the door and went downstairs. She asked for directions to the Sturmbannfuehrer’s office.

The Sergeant grinned at her. The uniform improved her looks. Somehow, she seemed different. Her stature had changed; her whole bearing seemed stronger somehow, with her head held up, her shoulders back and as if she had been injected with 10ccs of confidence booster. Her cool blue eyes seemed to set a challenge to anyone and everyone, saying — ‘Here I am, if you don’t like it — tough.’

She looked more Aryan now, so all the young officers would start fighting to get into her knickers.

He picked up the telephone and spoke briefly into it.

“A driver will take you there. Two minutes,” he told her.

She smiled and he immediately felt the sexual chemistry she imparted. She had a wonderful smile and if he hadn’t been old enough to be her father, he was sorely tempted to proposition her himself.

Twenty minutes later, she was standing before the young Sturmbannfuehrer’s desk. He examined her brand new identity papers, sucking air in through his teeth. He was sitting at a desk, yet even sitting down she could tell he was a tall and sturdy man. Broad in the shoulder and carrying little spare weight. He had very short fair hair, a relic of his Russian front days, when hair attracted all manner of unwanted wildlife. His face was honest and open, but carried the pain of too much horror in such a short time.

Otto Schneider was only twenty-six. However, he had seen action in the Waffen SS in most theatres of war except Africa and the Far East. He had narrowly avoided death on several occasions in Eastern Europe, but his current task was as unpleasant to him as it was to most of those who came through his hands.

A serious shrapnel wound to his left knee took him out of active soldiering. He had joined the Waffen SS straight from the Hitler youth in 1938. Except it wasn’t called that then. In those early days, he had thought Hitler had had all the answers. Now, he didn’t.

After recuperating from his wounds, he had requested to return to his unit, but his leg injury had precluded that possibility. Given a desk job, they transferred him from Panzers to assist the police unit, yet he really had no stomach for the task he now found himself doing.

Increasingly these days, he was in pain, disillusioned and seriously concerned about the future. His parents were dead, his brother, Peter, was in the navy, but hadn’t been heard from for over a year. His sister, Gretchen, was in part of Germany that was likely to be over-run by the Russians very soon, yet now he was supposed to interrogate wounded enemy officers and men.

A fresh batch of captured officers were brought to the holding area just as the girl was sent to help him arrived. They weren’t all wounded, so it was less complicated. He looked up at the girl.

She was strikingly attractive.

Her hair was tidy and her uniform pristine. Her blue eyes were focussed on some point above his head and he noticed that she wore a little make up, which was discreet and well applied, simply emphasising her beautiful blue eyes. He could see that she had removed nail varnish quite recently.

“At ease, fraulein,” he said. His voice was quiet and sounded tired.

She relaxed a little.

He handed her the papers back and stood up. He eased the painful knee as he straightened, grimacing as the pain coursed through his leg. He grabbed at the silver-topped ebony cane that was by his desk. He used it to take the strain from his bad leg.

“Cigarette?” he asked, offering her a pack.

“Thank you, but no. I don’t, sir.”

“I like your accent. You are not German?”

“No sir. French.”

She looked as if she ought to be on a German recruiting poster. It was hard to believe she wasn’t even German.

“Then forgive me, how is it that you are here?”

“Long story. I was assisting a Vichy medical unit in France with language problems. It was taken over by a German unit, and moved. I found myself caught up in a massive withdrawal. I ended up here, and the medical unit was moved again without me. I hid when the fighting started, and tried to leave, applying to the police for papers. Your boss found I could speak English, German and French, and enlisted me into the SS auxiliaries.”

“So, you didn’t volunteer?”

“Not as such, sir.”

“That makes two of us,” he muttered.

“Sir?” she asked frowning, she met his eyes for the first time. They were grey and seemed full of pain.

“Nothing. Janine, it’s a lovely name.”

Jamie blushed. “Thank you, sir.”

“Relax. I’m a soldier, not a fanatical idealistic idiot like Willi.”

Her eyebrows raised and her mouth twitched. He liked her self-control.

“You may laugh. I’m not a bloody SS butcher. I’m a soldier, sorry, I was a soldier. I was an officer in a SS Panzer unit. I was wounded in Russia and shipped home in time. I keep applying to go back to my old unit, but the leg won’t allow it. Now I’m here playing at pretend policeman and it’s not a job I relish. Mark my words, there will be a reckoning, and many of us will have to pay for those who made us do what we’ve done.”

“Yes sir,” she said, but he could discern her distrust and reservations.

Otto laughed. She was so refreshing, a real flower in the barren wilderness.

“Janine. You’re not a soldier, so please relax. If we are to work together, we need to understand each other. Please use my first name. It’s Otto, and it would make me feel better if you called me that. I will release you from this task as soon as I feel that you can get to safety. But for the meantime we must pretend to be working hard for the glorious Reich!”

“Sir.”

Otto grinned at her stubbornness and lit a cigarette, drawing the harsh tobacco deep into his lungs.

“How can such a pretty girl get caught up with this shit?” he asked, his voice sift and caring.

Jamie relented and relaxed a little more.

“Luck, sir, sorry, Otto. Not a lot of it, as it happens.”

He laughed.

“So, no boyfriend?”

Her eyes met his and he saw fear deep within them. The fear was immediately hidden and replaced with cool reserve.

“No, still intact, and I hope to remain so.”

He laughed and coughed, as the smoke went the wrong way.

“Good girl. You must be a one of the very few these days. Well, let’s get to work. My English is passable, but not too hot. I need to complete a questionnaire in respect of each POW before they can be sent to a POW camp. Your first task is to help me clear the backlog. I have six junior officers and NCOs doing the work at the moment, but their English is crap, to be honest. It’s all a waste of time, as the British are stubborn to the end. We rarely get anything other than name, rank and serial number, but we have to go through the motions. So, your assistance comes none too soon.”

Otto strapped on his belt with holstered pistol thereon.

“Come on, let’s go to the coal face,” he said, putting his cap on.

He walked out, with his leg causing an obvious limp, Jamie noticed he depended on the cane quite a lot.

She followed, but was very nervous at seeing her former comrades from a different perspective.

The British were all in a temporary holding area. Barbed wire was everywhere, and lines of tents their only shelter. Officers were at one end, with other ranks at the other.

SS guards patrolled, and seemed jumpy.

“The bloody Brits know the war is won, so they keep trying to escape. To be honest, I don’t know why we bother. It takes more resources to look after them than we can afford,” Otto said.

“The rumours are that you shoot most of them,” she said.

Otto looked at her. She was serious.

“Ja, I know. The rumours are probably true. So many bad things happen in war,” he said with a sigh.

They went into an old school. The classrooms were now interrogation centres. Barbed wire now covered the surrounds to the playground and SS guards no stood where teachers had a few months before.

A line of British soldiers stretched out the door, as watchful SS guards fingered their weapons nervously.

Jamie kept her head averted from the watching British, aware that someone might recognise her.

A young Untersturmfuehrer⁵ leapt to attention as Otto entered, so he waved at the younger man to relax.

“Sit down Rudi. You’re not in training any more.”

The young man was even younger than Jamie. He looked like a schoolboy in uniform.

“Young Rudi Heinmann, he was educated in America. His English is perfect, as long as you appreciate a New York accent,” Otto explained. The young man grinned and returned to his task in hand.

They made their way to one of the classrooms, where a long table stretched out with three NCOs completing the paperwork with an officer at a separate desk.

He pushed open another door and they entered a room with just one table and a chair on either side of the desk. A pile of questionnaires was on the desk and a pen.

“This is your room. They will send in officers one at a time and all you do is complete the questionnaire. If they refuse to answer a question, just write that in the box. Don’t push it. As I said, most will give a name, rank and serial number, and nothing else. Just get what you can from them. Give them the usual bullshit about getting information back through the Red Cross to their families. Some believe it, but not many.”

It was warm in the room, so she took off her jacket. She watched Otto’s eyes flick to her breasts and she found she liked the attention. She wished she had more than socks filling out her crisp white blouse.

She then caught that thought and frowned.

“Why did I think that?” she mused.

She looked at the man who had shown that even a German had some human kindness. He smiled at her and she felt the warmth of her face as a flush came up on her.

She took her hat off and sat behind the desk. Otto went and briefed the NCO outside. Within a few moments, an SS man brought in the first officer. Otto stood in the corner, smoking a cigarette.

The man stood at attention in front of Jamie. She felt very awkward.

He was perhaps twenty-four, tired, unwashed and unshaven. His battledress was dishevelled and torn in places. His hands were filthy and he had dried blood on one sleeve.

He was a Lieutenant, and his collar badges were of the Green Howards. He had been one of the men who had arrived in a glider.

“Sit down please, Lieutenant,” she said in English. She tried to ensure that she spoke with a French accent.

The man looked at her and contempt was evident in his eyes.

“Carter, Michael. Lieutenant. 346372,” he said, staring straight ahead.

“Well, Carter, Michael. Lieutenant, 346372. You are now a prisoner of war. Your family may wish to be informed of the fact that you are alive and that you will be going to a POW camp very soon. I have to complete a form, which will be passed to the Red Cross for onward transmission. If you choose to stand there and repeat what I already know, that’s fine. Alternatively, you may sit and spend a few moments conversing with me in a civilised manner. It is your choice.”

He looked at her, still with little trust but with a little curiosity.

He sat.

“Thank you, Michael,” she said, smiling.

She indicated the blood on his sleeve.

“Are you injured?”

He glanced at his sleeve and frowned. She saw the pain and hurt in his eyes. There was a lot of it about.

“It’s not my blood. He was my friend.”

She met his eyes and he was surprised to see tears forming in her eyes.

She looked down, and he frowned. The Germans weren’t supposed to have human feelings, he thought.

“I am sorry, truly. This is an awful time,” she said, and then picked up the pen and started on the questionnaire.

Lieutenant Carter was very confused. He has expected a bully of an SS officer to be conducting the interrogation. Instead, he faced a very pretty girl who spoke very good English. He didn’t notice the SS Major lounging in the corner of the room. He only was aware of the girl. The questions were unimportant, and few related to military matters. She was pleasant and seemed genuinely concerned about his and his comrades’ welfare.

He intended to answer with nothing but his name, rank and serial number. He spent a very pleasant fifteen minutes conversing with the girl.

In the end, she smiled and thanked him for his time.

“I am sorry about your friend, Michael. We have all lost someone in this stupidity. We can but hope it will end soon,” she said.

He stood, smiled at her, but then he nodded and walked out.

Otto smiled.

“I am impressed,” he told her, and then dropped his voice to little more than a whisper. “But, you must be careful. If Willi sees that you care, he can be a nasty piece of work. That is about the first time a whole sheet has been filled out. Well done. Now, I have to see to the others.” He nodded and walked out.

Jamie managed to get through another ten British officers before Otto called a halt. Fortunately, none was familiar to her. She could see where the questions were leading, and whenever possible she left blanks and omitted important information so as to be of no value to German intelligence.

“Lunch. Will you join me, Janine?” he asked, popping his head around her door. His use of her adopted first name surprised and pleased her.

“Thank you,” she said, desperately hungry, as she hadn’t eaten properly since England. They returned to the original hotel, the dining room was now the officers’ mess. Jamie had been given the equivalent rank of an Obersturmfuehrer, which made her smile. Promotion the hard way.

He opened the door for her, so for the first time, she enjoyed him treating her like a real lady. She frowned and the shook her head. This was getting serious.

He even pulled out her chair and pushed it in as she sat. They placed their hats on the spare chair.

“So, how did you feel that this morning went?” he asked.

“Fine. They are very young, most of them.”

“Look around you. English, German, they are all young. I’m only twenty-six, yet I feel that I have been lucky to survive so long.”

“Was Russia very bad?” she asked.

His eyes took on a haunted look. He simply nodded and said nothing.

The mess orderly approached and placed their soup and bread in front of them. Otto asked for a bottle of wine.

Lunch was a watery soup and black bread, followed by a sort of sausage and cabbage stew with potatoes. For Jamie, it was a veritable feast, but she had to slow her eating down in order to prevent calling undue attention to herself.

A useless task, for as the other officers entered, all were astounded at seeing the very attractive girl sitting with the Sturmbannfuehrer.

Her presence sparked off immediate speculation as to her identity and reason for being there. The whisperings were hardly subtle, so Jamie went red when she realised how much attention was being paid to her.

“They haven’t seen a good looking girl for some time,” Otto said quietly.

“Rubbish. They’re just soldiers, so they can’t stop thinking about sex,” she replied, taking a sip of her wine.

He looked sombre. “You’re right, in part, but most of these men are not soldiers. They haven’t the faintest idea what it is like to fight properly. I was in Russia and that was hell on earth. These boys would curl up and die as soon as look at a Russian assault. Wave upon wave of the bastards - no matter how many we killed, more came - women, boys and even old men. Anyone who could carry a gun, and boy, could they fight! Sometimes, they came at us without even a rifle. They shared a rifle between ten men, so when the man carrying it fell, another picked up the gun and on they came.”

Jamie was silent. It made her life seem tame in comparison.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone on. Not the best conversation for a meal, such as it is,” Otto said. He looked at her clean plates.

“Hungry?” he asked.

“Starving. I can’t remember when I had my last hot meal.”

He smiled and lit a cigarette. His eyes seemed focussed somewhere else.

“Have you anyone?” she heard herself ask.

He looked at her. She couldn’t tell what was going on behind those steel grey eyes. Perhaps he was deciding whether to tell her, perhaps he was thinking of someone else.

“I had. She was a nurse and we met after I got this,” he hit his bad leg with his fist.

“She was working in the military hospital I was shipped to in Poland, so she helped put me back together again. It wasn’t the leg so much as the mind. I couldn’t stand the dark, and would end up screaming if the lights went out. She was very patient and we became very close. After a couple of months, I was almost back to normal, so I proposed to her and she accepted. Two weeks later, she was killed in an air raid. The Russians deliberately targeted the hospital.”

“I’m sorry,” Jamie said.

He smiled sadly.

“You weren’t to know. I’m sure you have pain in your past.”

She nodded as she thought about who she was and who she should be.

“Yes, but not quite like yours,” she said. “I don’t like the dark either.”

He smiled.

“Then perhaps we should share a room, just to keep each other company.”

Jamie blushed again and looked down. When she looked up, he was smiling at her.

“Don’t tease me. I really hate the dark,” she said, remembering that damn cupboard.

“So do I,” he said remembering his traumas after being wounded.

They looked at each other and she felt that some strange bond formed. For the first time she saw a fellow human being and it was as if the uniform was just irrelevant. She frowned.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“Nothing. I am being foolish.”

“Tell me, please,” he begged.

She looked at him. She didn’t know why she felt as she did, so she was confused.

“Please?” he said, leaning closer. His eyes were so gentle and his pain so evident. She thought he was going to take her hand and was a little disappointed that he didn’t.

“It is just I don’t see you as a soldier. I just see the man. See, I told you it was foolishness.”

To her surprise, she saw the beginnings of tears form in his eyes and he broke off his gaze.

The moment passed as an orderly brought them some cups of bitter coffee. They drank it without milk or sugar. There was none of the latter in any case.

“Is the leg very painful?” she asked, changing the subject.

He was surprised at the concern in her voice.

“Sometimes. It’s in bed it hurts the most. It goes into spasm.”

“Can’t they do anything?”

“Probably. I don’t know. They patched me up and sent me out to make room for someone worse. If I get a chance, when this stupidity is all over, I’ll see if I can get fixed up.”

“I hope you can,” she said and smiled.

Otto was confused. He tried to deal with everything on a very shallow level. If he didn’t care about anything, then nothing would upset him. The girl was different. She changed the rules and he was faintly cross, as he found himself caring what happened to her. He had seen the way the Reich used, abused and cast aside people once they had given of their best, so he found he didn’t want her to become such a casualty.

“Will you come with me to the hospital this afternoon?” he asked.

“If I must.”

He smiled. “You don’t have to, but I want to try to get this over and done with. Bring some of the questionnaires with you, so hopefully we can get this shocking business over with and get back to what is important.”

“Just what is important?” she asked.

He looked at her, pain and sorrow fleeted across his face.

“I don’t know, I really don’t know any more,” he said, lapsing into silence.

“I am sorry, I’ve said something I shouldn’t,” she said.

He smiled. “Not at all. I find myself saying things that I haven’t shared with anyone, and I find it disconcerting.”

“What, my questions, or your answers?” she asked.

“Neither. Dining with a beautiful woman who sees me as an ordinary man and not an SS monster.”

Janine went very red.

“Now I’ve said something I shouldn’t have,” he said.

She shook her head.

“I’m not used to being called beautiful,” she admitted, quite truthfully.

“Why not? Surely other men have said it to you?”

She shook her head. “No, you are the first.”

He stared at her in some disbelief. Here was the most attractive young woman he had seen for a very long time. She appeared bright, intelligent, courageous and quite worldly, and yet in some ways she seemed completely naíve and almost lost.

“I find that hard to believe.”

She smiled that wonderful smile. Completely open and delightful, it made her eyes shine and her white, even teeth gleamed in an otherwise very dull world.

“I was rather a late developer, physically, that is,” she said.

His eyes flicked to her fine figure and then to her legs, then back to her face.

“Rubbish! I don’t believe you. I’ll bet you were always the leading lady in your school plays.”

Janine blushed very red.

“Ahah. I knew it. You were, weren’t you?”

Janine nodded, she couldn’t lie, so she smiled at the thought of him finding out the truth.

The truth.

Just what was the truth?

Janine looked at this man and then around the room. Dark uniformed German officers taking lunch, with white tablecloths, eating watery soup and meagre stew. Just down the road, her countrymen and comrades were in a compound, lucky to get any food, and knowing the utter despair of being POWs.

Otto sensed some disquiet in this lovely girl.

“Now what have I said?”

She looked at him.

“Nothing. I was just thinking, and that is never a clever thing to do. I was thinking about those British boys, and all the other POWs, from both sides. What is the point of all this foolishness?”

“What indeed? Come on, we’ve work to finish,” he said, putting his hat on, and standing up. He helped pull her chair back and his hand touched hers. She stopped and looked into his eyes.

“Try to remain objective. I’m told it helps,” he said.

“Does it?”

“I don’t know, I find it hard, too.”
 

*          *          *
 
At the end of the day, Jamie collapsed onto her bed, totally exhausted, both mentally and physically. It was ten in the evening and she had grabbed a quick supper and excused herself from the mess. She had met three of her own unit in the hospital, yet none of them had recognised her. One of the NCOs had been in her company, so it helped her confidence when he failed to see who she was.

It probably helped that Jamie had only been with the airborne division a matter of weeks, so no one got to know him very well.

She kept catching herself referring to herself as female, yet no matter how hard she tried to relate to herself as the male she thought she was, she couldn’t do it. It was as if Jamie, the soldier was someone completely different, and that she was a separate individual completely.

She undressed and hung up the uniform. She eased herself out of the restrictive corset arrangement and was grateful to slip on the nightdress. She turned out the light and opened the blackout curtain. The little ambient light from outside gave some light into the room, so she wasn’t in total darkness.

She lay there, tired, yet unable to sleep. It had been a chaotic day and found her ending it wearing a different uniform and as a different gender to that which she started.

She casually felt her chest and found that her breasts had swollen a little. They were very tender indeed and the nipples had enlarged considerably. Her heart raced slightly and her other hand flew to her crotch.

Initially, she could feel no difference, but after gently probing, she could feel that what had been a penis was smaller and now surrounded by folds of skin. Her testes were now absent, the whole scrotum seemed to have parted down the centre into two flaps, and the depression between the legs was more pronounced.

She let her finger run back to near her anus, and the flap of skin she had felt in the morning, was still there. Except now, the flap seemed to cover a small hole or crevice.

She had never seen a vagina, so she was not to know whether she was developing normally or not. She was worried, and had she known that she was actually developing perfectly normally, if a little late, then her panic would have been offset.

In fact, unbeknown to Jamie, she had a complete set of female sexual organs. The male genitalia were in reality an enlarged female clitoris, and the testes were fatty deposits covered by a fused labia. Her ovaries were now beginning to function, albeit somewhat late, and the hormones triggered development that should have occurred many years before.

Jamie was a girl. She was born a girl, but the superficial deformities had caused her to be wrongly sexed. Although the medical profession drew her mother’s attention to the problem, she had refused to accept it, and so Jamie had been sentenced to a masculine childhood.

Understandably Jamie was now troubled. Her fingers probed the opening which had recently appeared, she was concerned that she had a serious deformity. In her heart, she hoped she was simply becoming the girl she wanted to be. It still was very worrying.

Worries aside, she fell asleep, such was her fatigue.
 
 
¹ Lieutenant Colonel - For all SS ranks, and their army equivalent, see Appendix A
 
² Sergeant.
 
³ Private.
 
⁴ Major.
 
⁵ 2^nd Lieutenant.
 

Appendix A

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

---

 
To Be Continued...
 

Fortune's Soldier
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.

 
 
Tanya's Book Shop where she is selling her works in book form is at http://tanyaallan.authorshaunt.com/shop.php . Please Visit!

---

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.
 
 

Appendix A

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

---

 
To Be Continued...
 

Fortune's Soldier
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.

 
 
Tanya's Book Shop where she is selling her works in book form is at http://tanyaallan.authorshaunt.com/shop.php . Please Visit!

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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 10
 
 
As January 1945 arrived and went, the Third Reich started to crumble. The last offensive, although doomed to failure, actually reduced the Germans’ ability to field any effective armour, and had the effect of hastening the end. Discoveries were made by all the advancing Allies that turned strong men into quivering wrecks. Camps so obscene, so evil and so utterly awful that never would men believe that there was any honour or compassion in Hitler’s evil empire.

As the armies in the west surrendered, and the whole infrastructure began to collapse, the Allies began squabbling over the spoils, despite the war not even being over, yet!

However, the Germans defending against the advancing Russians fought with a different ferocity. They feared the Russians with justifiable cause, and every German would rather the Americans or British would take Berlin rather than the Russians. However, agreements were reached, and it was agreed that the Russians were to enter Berlin first. The Russians had lost countless millions to Hitler’s invaders, and in a part of the war that sunk to new depths of brutality and barbarism, the Russians were not about to let the Germans get away with anything.

Janine was twenty in February, but she hadn’t seen Otto in many weeks. She celebrated her birthday alone, while doing her job. She knew Otto was safe, so that was all that really mattered. She was tired of the war, so tired. She found it all rather amusing, if it hadn’t been so sad. Last September she had thought herself male, and had been a second Lieutenant. Now she was six months older, a woman, having been a Lieutenant in the German SS Auxiliaries, and now was a Captain in the Free French Army.

She still wore her US issued kit, but with her new Captain’s insignia. She found it disconcerting to be saluted again, having got out of the practice.

In late March, she went to see Colonel Max Clifford, and requested some leave. However, he had other orders for her. She was due to attend a ceremony in Paris, where she was to receive medals from the Americans and the French. The British decided that they couldn’t justify anything, even though she was considered to be jolly pretty!

The whole POW handling system had to be revised and, as the end loomed, the focus became more on resettlement than detention. There was still a need to identify those responsible for the inhuman crimes against humanity, so specialised units were set up to undertake such tasks.

She was relieved of her current duties and, in the light of her history, she was given four weeks leave. On conclusion of that leave, she was to report to the POW resettlement team that was being set up in the event of the anticipated capitulation of the Germans, so that those POWs that were being held in France could be efficiently documented and returned as civilians to their homes.

She was given special papers that gave her leave to travel anywhere she wanted to. She was paid for her services to the Allied forces in Europe, and was more than happy to have a little spending money. As a Captain, she was entitled to certain privileges, so she took advantage of them.

Otto was now located in a holding centre for POWs in Northern France, where he was content to wait. A doctor had looked at his leg and was hopeful that some corrective work was possible to improve mobility and reduce discomfort.

He didn’t hear from Janine, but he knew that soon they would be together. He was getting very good at waiting.

Janine travelled to Paris. She found a city transformed from being dominated by the Germans to somewhere that De Gaulle had become the hero of the French people. Armed members of the resistance roamed the streets in complete freedom, meeting out instant justice to those suspected of collaborating with the Nazis. On getting out of the jeep that dropped her off, she was suddenly very grateful to be wearing a uniform, and one with the French flag prominently displayed for all to see.

She’d booked to stay in a small hotel, ironically called Britannique, courtesy of the US army. She found it up the Avenue Victoria not too far from the centre of the city. The proprietor was delighted to greet her, and she found herself speaking French again.

It was a small hotel with about forty rooms but no restaurant. Once she’d been shown to her room, where she dropped off her bag, she immediately went out to find a dress shop that was open for business.

She bought, at extortionate cost, a delightful long black evening dress and a very smart red and white dress. She found it amazing that the shops managed to find things to sell, for the war seemed to have not touched the French Capital as much as many others.

The next day, dressed in her new uniform, she arrived at the Presidential palace. She was escorted, along with a dozen or so other award recipients down a red carpet, flanked by French Dragoons with drawn sabres.

De Gaulle and an American General then made speeches and the names of those present were called out, with a brief description of their deeds. Soon it was Janine’s turn to be embarrassed.

“Capitaine Janine Chavanay. For heroism under enemy fire. For courage and determination in the face of the enemy, and for wisdom and honour in a time of trial. This young lady identified a team of SS covert soldiers, dressed as American soldiers, then prevented enemy armour from taking a bridge, saving the life of a wounded American Army Captain. She dragged him to a vehicle, drove him and the crew of a disabled American tank to safety. For many months, she has served the Allies in trying and difficult circumstances, by identifying and isolating enemies of humanity.

“She is a true French heroine and patriot!”

She stepped forward and saluted. She wished she had been able to wear her new dress, as she thought the small French crowd would have appreciated her colour scheme. Even so, they still cheered madly.

De Gaulle returned her salute, pinned a pretty little medal to her left breast and kissed her on both cheeks.

Then the American General stepped forward, pinned a bronze star next to the French one and hesitated. He then smiled and kissed her as well.

“There have to be some perks to this job,” he whispered to her.

Major General William Cameron, standing at the sidelines went very still. He was staring at the attractive French girl, yet his heart had almost stopped. She was the exact replica of his dear, dead wife. He felt weak and slightly dizzy.

Janine saluted and turned to the left. At that moment, she was staring right at her father. She went very pale. Her mouth twitched, as if to smile, but then was still. Her eyes met his and a spark of recognition seemed to emanate from them. She then broke eye contact with him, marched smartly back to her place and stood at ease.

The whole ceremony lasted for another half an hour, but Will couldn’t take his eyes off the girl.

His whole being screamed at him that he was seeing things that weren’t there, and yet there was something about her eyes. He simply knew that she recognised him. It was as if they knew each other very well, but then he also knew it couldn’t be so.

After the ceremony, there was an informal reception. He looked for her, but found her surrounded by a host of admiring young officers. He waited and watched, occasionally engaging in conversation with other dignitaries, but never taking his eyes off her. He found it hard to concentrate on anything apart from the girl. She was the very image of his dead wife, even down to the way she stood, moved and smiled.

Gradually, he moved closer, and heard her voice as she spoke in both English and French.

Even her voice was so like Ellen’s, but in a way like young Jamie’s, except she was female, of course.

Janine was very conscious of her father’s presence, but was unwilling to face him yet, particularly here. As soon as she saw he was distracted, she made her excuses and left, returning to her hotel. She immediately booked out and went to the station, where she boarded a train for the coast, having previously arranged passage to England.

Will Cameron found the girl gone, and felt frustrated. The following day he managed to locate where she had been staying, yet when he called the hotel, he was informed that Capitaine Chavanay had left.

“Do you know where she has gone?” he asked.

“She mentioned visiting some friends in Wiltshire, England. Monsieur.”

William Cameron’s blood ran cold.

He returned to his HQ, and informed his staff that he was going to England on some urgent business.
 

*          *          *
 
Janine was on the deck when the white cliffs came in sight. The old ferry was full of a wide mixture of civilians and servicemen and women. She was huddled in her greatcoat, her military cap firmly wedged on her head and she shivered in the cold wind.

It was March, and although the war was still going on, the Allies were now in Germany, so experts were predicting the end in a matter of weeks now.

A flight of planes flew eastwards overhead. They were Douglas DC Dakotas with US markings - more men and equipment going to the front, no doubt.

The smiled as she remembered the last time she had crossed the channel. She had been in a plane, not unlike them. There the similarity ended, for she was a completely different person now. It all went wrong when she jumped out. A lot had happened since then.

The boat arrived at Dover, where she found chaos at the docks. The military police were searching through all arriving British servicemen’s kit. A growing pile of German military memorabilia was forming behind them. Janine smiled, as there were enough firearms to start a small war.

She showed her papers to the officials at the barrier, who waved her through. Her single small suitcase drew no attention, so she then managed to find the train for London.

It was quite late when the taxi dropped her at her grandparents’ home. Dusk was settling. She had thought to ring to warn them, but she just didn’t have the courage, or the words.

How does one tell one’s grandparents that one has become a woman?

She walked down the drive. The daffodils were out and suddenly she was awash with memories. She saw the old swing attached to the tree by the summerhouse, and the small boy who used to swing on it was very different now.

She stood at the front door, and after a moment’s hesitation, she pulled the bell chain.

The distant jangle informed her that it still worked, and a dog barked.

She had forgotten Rusty, the spaniel, and she smiled. Memories of happy, bygone days flooded back, and tears formed in her eyes.

A light came on in the hall, followed by her grandfather’s voice admonishing the dog. Then the outside light came on, and the door opened.

He hadn’t changed, a little older, perhaps, but still sprightly and with that warm smile.

Tears sprang to her eyes, and she found herself choked up.

George Simmonds looked at the figure on the doorstep. He frowned and then felt very strange. For, an attractive young woman stood there, looking the very picture of his own dear daughter.

“Hello Grandpa. Remember me?” the girl said.

The voice was that of a girl, yet the timbre and sound was similar to his grandson, missing in action for six months now.

He shook his head.

The girl was crying, yet she was smiling too.

“It seems that I wasn’t exactly what I thought I was,” she said.

“J,.. J,.. Jamie?”

She smiled.

“I call myself Janine now,” she said.

“Who is it George?” said her grandmother’s voice, her slight French accent still evident. She peered round her large husband at the slight figure outside.

“Oh, mon Dieu!” she said, and raised a hand to her breast.

“Hello Granny. I’m sorry I didn’t call, but I didn’t know quite how to tell you.”

“Oh Jamie. You poor soul - I’m so sorry, so, so sorry!” she said and immediately embraced the confused girl.

They brought her indoors, and soon she was sitting by the fire in the sitting room.

She told them everything, or nearly everything. She prudently decided that Otto was not something she was willing to share. Yet!

It was then that Jeannette told her of her birth and the decisions that were made at the time.

“So, are you telling me that I was a girl all along, and yet you never told me?” she asked, shocked and not a little upset.

“No. It was never as simple as that. There was a confusion, yes, but as to whether you were a boy or a girl, it was never clear. You could have been either, so your mother decided to bring you up as a boy, as that was what you seemed to be,” Jeannette said.

“But, you knew I was different?”

“Not at first, but later on, yes. We couldn’t tell anyone as your mother was so adamant that she wanted a boy. Once your father came home, and you were nearly a year old, it was too late. Then you seemed to settle down and we prayed that everything was settled. It obviously wasn’t.”

“No, it wasn’t,” she said, and became very thoughtful. She thought about a girlhood she never had. She wondered about what she would have been like if she had been brought up as the girl she so obviously was.

“Why?” she asked.

“I think your mother so wanted to please your father, and he wanted a son above anything else.”

“I didn’t know any different. Even I thought I was a boy.”

“Oh my dear, was it so awful?” Jeanette asked.

“Not really, as I said, I didn’t know any different. It makes sense now, as I never really felt I belonged, anywhere, school, the army or anything.”

“You managed very well,” said her grandfather.

“I just managed, I never thought I was that different. You know, all I wanted was to make him proud of me.”

“Well, you succeeded, beyond all expectations.”

Janine smiled, as both grandparents glanced at each other. Both felt that she was remarkably resilient.

“You were never unhappy, we you?” asked her grand father.

“Not that I remember, I know I just felt odd, as if something wasn’t quite right. I never guessed it was this,” she said, indicating her female body.

“Have you eaten?” Jeannette asked.

“No. Not for ages. But I’m fine,” she said, her mind miles away.

“I’ll get you some bread and jam. There isn’t much else, I’m afraid.”

She smiled, so Jeannette went to the kitchen.

The telephone rang, and George went and answered it. She stood up, and walked to the fireplace. She looked at the photographs of the melancholy little boy who peered out at her. She now knew why he had been so melancholy.

George returned.

“That was your father. I think he twigged. He wanted to know whether we had a visitor. I asked who, he said a young French girl. I didn’t know what to say, so I said that he ought to come and see for himself. He is rather upset, I’m afraid.”

She smiled sadly.

“I saw him yesterday, but I just couldn’t bring myself to speak to him. What could I say? Hello, I’m not the son you thought I was, I’m your daughter?”

George smiled and managed a chuckle.

“What a pickle, eh?”

Jeannette returned with some bread and jam and a glass of milk.

Janine found she was hungry, and as soon as the taste of the home made jam was on her tongue, she started to cry. It was all rather too much.

Jeannette held the girl, and cried tears of relief to have her back.

“Grandpa?” Janine asked, as her tears subsided.

“Yes?”

“In my case is a bottle of brandy. If you could get it, perhaps we could do with a drink.”

They spent a pleasant, cosy evening, just getting to know their new granddaughter. Janine felt very weary, and at ten, they all retired to bed. She went to her old room, which hadn’t changed at all, and within moments of undressing, she was asleep.

Her Grandparents looked in on her sleeping form.

“Oh George, she is so like Ellen.”

George looked at Janine.

“She is, but I think she is even more beautiful. Truly we have been blessed!”
 
 
Chapter 11
 
 
Janine awoke early, but, as quite often of late, it took her a few moments to remember where she was. At first, she had a terrible thought, and that she was a boy again.

However, on feeling her now familiar and pleasing private parts, she smiled and snuggled under the warm sheets and blankets.

Her mind was in a whirl, as she tried to make some sense of the information she now possessed. She then wondered how her father would take the news. Would he accept the truth? On the other hand, would he reject it because of its implausibility? Would he be angry that they’d kept it from him as well?

Janine wasn’t angry, but she wasn’t sure exactly what she felt. Numb, was the first feeling she thought of. She’d been through so much that one more thing hadn’t really sunk in yet. She knew she was a girl now, and was content. She wasn’t that bothered about the past, but she smiled at the thought that her all-boys’ school actually had a girl for five years, and she coped as well a the boys, even getting into the first XV. So much for male superiority!

She had created the persona of Janine Chavanay, what would happen to her now?

Would she become Janine Cameron, or was it safer to keep to her new identity?

When would she and Otto be able to marry, and where would they go?

Would they be victims of prejudice and abuse?

Would they have children?

What sort of world would it be for them?

All these questions, and no answers. She frowned, as it was almost easier when she had forgotten about her past.

The sun was out, and it was a lovely spring morning. She rose and washed in the old familiar bathroom. She hung up her new clothes, and suddenly got a pang of conscience about the clothes she had ‘borrowed’ from Arnhem.

She put that on her ‘to do’ list, and dressed in her new red and white dress.

She put on a little more make up than she was used to, but still she tended to be understated. She went down stairs and found her Grandmother in the kitchen.

Jeannette smiled, for suddenly the girl transformed the whole house into a lovely place. Their lives had been so dark and bleak after they’d received news of Jamie being missing.

This lively and so happy creature was not only a blessing, but also wonderful surprise. Their meagre rations did not amount to bountiful fare, but Janine seemed not to care. Nevertheless, Jeannette could tell that the girl was worried by the thought of her father’s imminent arrival, and the potential consequences of that.

She’d brought them some cheese and a couple of bottles bottle of Claret that she had bought in France.

“I’ll bet you haven’t had any good Brie for some time?” she said to her grandmother in French.

Jeannette gasped, as the girl’s French was perfect, even down to a slight southern accent.

“Why did you choose to be a French girl?”

“Because my German wasn’t that good, and I could hardly be English, could I?”

She showed her grandmother her medals.

As soon as Jeanette saw the surname ‘Chavanay’ she burst into tears.

“I thought the family would approve,” Janine said, and her grandmother hugged her.

What will you do about being a Cameron? Everyone thinks you are dead.”

Janine had thought about this for some time.

“I am Janine Chavanay. I feel that is who I am. I know I am, or rather, was - Jamie Cameron, and I can’t lose that. But, I think it would be too complicated to become Jamie again, no one would really be accepting, and I would be treated like a freak.”

“Your father may not accept that.” Jeannette said, worried.

“If my father accepts who I am now, he will accept who I want to be. If he accepts me as his daughter, he will not care that I am a Cameron or a Chavanay.”

Jeanette spent the most wonderful morning with her granddaughter making a steak and kidney pie, and an apple pie. There was a lack of good steak, and the kidney was tiny, but the occasion warranted a little expense on the black market.

It was as if she had always been Janine. She was so happy and chatty, that every now and again Jeannette had to stop and cry a little, for the girl was so like her mother, it was uncanny.

“Do you miss being Jamie?” she asked.

Janine smiled and shook her head.

“Not in the slightest. I have found who I should have been and am perfectly content.”

“You are so like your mother.”

“I’m pleased, but I think I’m very different inside.”

Jeannette smiled.

“Yes, I agree, there’s a lot of your father in you. The sensible and practical bits, I think. You have a level of cynicism beyond your years, as well.”

“Talking of which, when is he arriving?” Janine asked.

“He said lunch time. But the trains and boats are not that punctual.”

“He’s a General, he’ll get a plane and then a staff car,” Janine said.

“How do you know?”

“It’s what I would do!”

At that very moment, a green coloured Humber motor car pulled up on the drive, and Janine saw a female ATS driver open the rear door and her father alighted.

“See?” she said.

Her grandfather came in.

“Your father has arrived. Are you nervous, my dear?”

Janine thought for a moment.

“No, surprising as it seems, I’m not. He will be, though. Can you just introduce me as your great niece from Menton? I don’t think I can just come out with the truth too quickly, I have to gauge him first.”

Barney was barking, and they heard footsteps in the hall.

“In here, Will,” shouted George.

Will came into the kitchen. He looked tired and rather older than she remembered. He smiled at George and kissed Jeannette, but all the time he stared at Janine, having gone very pale.

“Will, you haven’t met my sister’s granddaughter from France. This is my great-niece Janine Chavanay, from Menton. Janine, this is my son in law, General William Cameron,” said Jeannette.

“Monsieur le General, enchante,” Janine said, and held out her hand.

Will hesitated briefly, then took her hand and stared into her face.

“Janine? I was in Paris, did you see me there, when you were presented with your medals?”

William was keeping control, but only just.

“Oh, at the palace? Oui, I remember,” she said, and smiled.

It was the smile that did it.

He crumpled, as the girl was so like both his late wife and his missing son, it was just too much for him to bear. He sat in the chair, still holding the girl’s hand.

Janine felt awful, so knelt beside her father, the guilt of deceiving him like a heavy weight on her soul.

“Oh Daddy. I’m sorry, I can’t pretend any longer. The only way I can tell you is straight. I was Jamie, but it seems that I wasn’t! I’m a girl, and I can’t hide it. You never had a son, just a daughter, but neither of us knew.”

Will stared at her, with a fierce frown that threatened to cause him major disfigurement.

“Jamie?”

“I call myself Janine now. It seems more appropriate somehow.”

“No. How? You can’t be. I don’t understand.”

“Oh Daddy, I don’t know how either, but I am. It happened, I changed and you have a daughter.”

“Changed? How, when?”

Janine told him her story. It took some telling, as the old soldier kept interrupting to ask questions. When she’d finished, she remained kneeling at his side, holding his hand, as her father struggled to assimilate all that she had told him.

Jeannette explained a little background into Janine/Jamie’s medical history, and he shook his head. Then he realised that his son was no longer missing, and instead of his son, he had a daughter so like his dear wife that he broke down completely.

Janine simply held her father as he sobbed. She looked up to see her grandparents crying as well.

She smiled.

“Why does everyone cry when I’m around?”
 

*          *          *
 
William could only stay for three days, having sent his car and driver away to come back for him later. He spent most of his time with the girl who claimed to be his daughter. There was no doubt that she was a girl, and no doubt that she looked, acted and treated him just like Jamie. However, still he questioned her on every aspect of Jamie’s life. She patiently answered, not rushing the man, realising that this was very hard for him.

He was terribly torn.

On the one hand, he desperately wanted to believe her, and yet all his years of having categories and things all being quite straight forward, meant that his military mind found it hard to accept. On the other, he adored her for three reasons.

The first was that she looked like his wife, the second was that she behaved like a female version of his son, and third, and probably most importantly, she seemed to love him unconditionally.

On the third day, a car drew up on the drive, and two old friends appeared, Yvette and her husband Bernard.

William and Janine had been walking the dog, and just came around the side of the house.

Yvette stared at the strikingly attractive blonde girl who looked so like her dead friend Ellen, so tears immediately sprang to her eyes.

Bernard didn’t have a clue, but just watched in amazement as his wife rushed to embrace the girl.

He was even more amazed when he heard her say, “Oh, my poor child, I am so glad that eventually you are who you should always have been!”

William stared at her in utter disbelief.

“You knew?” he stammered.

Yvette, her arm around Janine’s waist, looked at him quite surprised.

“Of course, it was so obvious to anyone who had eyes, didn’t you?”

Will stared at her and then at Janine, who was smiling broadly.

“I can’t have had the eyes to see,” he said, sadly.

Then his craggy face seemed to melt into a smile too. At last, his heart won over his mind, and he gazed fondly at his daughter.

“No. It seems that I was the blind one. I have found this all very difficult, but I don’t see how I can deny the truth anymore!”

With that, Janine burst into tears of happiness and flung herself into her sceptical old father’s arms, and they hugged for an age.

Dinner that evening was a completely different event. Yvette and Bernard stayed and the six of them sat at the large dining room table. The fare would have been somewhat meagre, due to the rationing, but George, despite his advancing years, had gone out with a farmer friend earlier, so they had a superb brace of pheasant sufficiently hung, and their repast was greatly improved by the Claret and Brie that Janine had brought from France.

Jeanette had found one of Ellen’s evening dresses in the attic. She had never thrown out any of Ellen’s clothes, so she and Janine had spent a wonderful couple of hours bringing them all down and sifting through them. Many were hopelessly out of fashion now, but equally many would never be out of fashion.

One evening dress, sleeveless and backless, with two very slim straps that went around the neck was in a shimmering white silk with a turquoise sheen. The turquoise thread was slightly sparkly, and the dress fitted Janine as if it had been made for her. As she walked, the turquoise seemed to make it look like water, and she glistened as she moved. She couldn’t wear a bra with it, and she even tried it on without underwear, as the line was just so delicate and perfect.

Jeannette looked at her granddaughter and wondered how anyone could have made such a terrible mistake.

The girl had a perfect figure, and even her breasts, though quite ample, were completely firm and retained their shape without the bra. She was utterly gorgeous, and her delightful smile seemed to take her into a realm of human beauty that was rarely seen.

“It is such a pity you can’t wear earrings, my dear!”

Janine had not thought of jewellery very much. What with her roles with the Germans, then the Americans, she had no time to dwell on the finer points of feminine accessories.

With a sterilised needle and some alcohol, Jeannette was allowed to pierce Janine’s ears, just so she could wear her mother’s jewellery.

Will had been standing in the drawing room, next to the fire, talking about how the Russians were going to be the next problem, when his daughter appeared.

He had to hold onto the mantle piece, for such was the shock!

She was wearing a gown that her mother had worn at the Governor’s ball in India, in happier times. Her hair was delightfully styled, and she wore the pendant diamond earrings and matching necklace that he had given Ellen for their first wedding anniversary.

Her makeup was discreet, yet undeniably effective, and her crimson nails flashed in the lights. She stopped by the door, with her head tilted slightly to one side, just as he’d seen Ellen do so many times. She smiled at him and him alone.

“Well Daddy, approve?”

Tears came to the old warrior’s eyes, and he found he couldn’t speak.

He simply nodded, so she glided across the floor and took his arm.

“That’s all I want from you,” she said, “it’s all I’ve ever wanted!”

“I never thought anyone could ever be more beautiful than your mother. But, I have to admit, you are, and I am inordinately proud of you,” he said, when at last he found his voice.

The evening was quite jolly, but then Bernard asked the question that everyone had been avoiding.

“So, Janine. What are you going to call yourself, Chavanay or Cameron?”

There was silence, and Bernard realised, a little late, that perhaps this was a stupid thing to say.

Janine glanced at her father, who looked down.

Taking this to mean that she was free to choose, she decided to be honest with everyone, and clear up her little identity problem for once and for all.

“It’s irrelevant really. I am a Cameron and always will be, but our society is so stuffy it will be much easier to stay as a Chavanay for a short while. Jamie is not coming back, and no one can deny that, so perhaps it is best he remain missing - believed dead. I can never be the boy again, and so it will be much easier to let things stay as they are. I know it will be hard for Daddy to pretend to the world that his son is a fallen hero, but easier than the alternative of living with bigotry and ignorant prejudice.

“You see, I know how people will treat me. A woman who was once a man - I will be little more than a queer, even if I should conceive and have children. Besides, I do have another secret, and I suppose it should come out now. I am engaged to be married.”

The silence that followed that announcement was tangible.

Then everyone wanted to talk at once.

Janine met her father’s gaze. He was frowning, and she smiled at him.

“I didn’t announce it before for several reasons. One he is not really what you would openly accept into your arms. Two, he is not at liberty to come over here for a while, and three, I said engaged, yet in reality we hardly know each other. The war has meant that we have spent more time apart than together. You see he is not British!”

Again, everyone wanted to talk at once. All except her father, who stared at her with a small smile on his lips.

He knows, she thought.

“I’m not saying anything else for a while, I need to get back to France and try to locate him again. It may all get called off, so just give me some time,” she said.

Feeling incredibly uncomfortable, Bernard immediately changed the subject, so Janine took the opportunity to clear away the crockery.

After dinner, they were relaxing in the drawing room, and Janine went out into the garden to clear her head.

She sat on the old wooden swing hammock, and looked up into the clear star spangled spring sky.

“He’s German, isn’t he?” her father’s voice broke the quiet. She hadn’t even heard him approach.

She smiled.

“Yes Daddy. He’s a German officer.”

He sat beside her, putting his arm around her. She snuggled in close.

“I thought so. They way you were so vague, it could only be. Where did you meet?”

Janine told her father everything. It was the first time she had been completely honest about the work she did for the SS and the fact she had helped process British POWs.

When she had finished, he drew her close to him.

“You were monumentally brave,” he said.

“No Daddy, I was a scared little girl, who was going through so much that I was confused and afraid. Otto was in pain too, and he offered me friendship so we shared some human kindness together. I love him very much.”

“I know you do, sweetheart. I can’t say I’m thrilled with your decision, but I won’t stand in your way. The Germans will be our friends again very soon. Within one generation, all this will be forgotten as if it never happened. You’ll see, the Russians will become the bogeyman, mark my words!”

“Oh Daddy, I was so afraid of what you’d say.”

“What can I say? Love is a strange thing, and it blinds us to so much. It makes us follow our hearts. Your lives will be difficult if you stay in Europe, you know that?”

“Yes, I know that.”

“Where will you go?”

“We haven’t talked about it. I think I should like to go to America or Canada.”

William nodded.

“You’ll come and live with us, won’t you?”

“We’ll see,” he said, smiling in the darkness.
 
 
Chapter 12
 
 
The War Office summoned Major General William Cameron to London, prior to him returning into mainland Europe. The Russians were on the fringes of Berlin, so it was universally believed that the end of the war in Europe was now a matter of a few weeks away.

Without Hitler’s knowledge, through diverse diplomatic and other channels, the German High Command approached the Allied Command concerning the future of Germany and its people.

Churchill, that student of history, already knew that the Russian menace was about to become a thorn in the side of the free post-war world, so he sought to minimise damage and optimise that single resource that Germany had left to offer.

Its people and their skills!

William now had the task of finding those Germans who had something to offer the free world, and who, with no allegations of war crimes against them, could be recruited to help rebuild a war torn continent, and build a future for the children yet to be born.

Many Germans had families in the eastern regions of Germany, so Churchill recognised that a divided Germany was soon to be a reality. He wanted to take advantage of the brief period of lull after hostilities ceased, to affect the release and relocation of those personnel and their dependants to areas that would be controlled by the Americans or the British, or even the French. The latter were hardly flavour of the month, due to De Gaulle’s parochial attitude. He had upset nearly everyone over the last few years, and despite the French, or some of the French, thinking he was a god, the other allies had had enough of the man!

Thus, Will arrived back in France with a very attractive female French Captain as his ADC. Strings had been pulled, so Will found himself overseeing the whole POW relocation programme for those held in France and Belgium.

Strangely, those Americans involved in the same process, knew of the French captain, but not the British General. Janine came with a reputation, and a good one at that.

Such was the closeness of the relationship between the General and the young woman, that tongues started to wag, as many believed her to be his mistress.
 

*          *          *
 
Major Chuck Brewster looked up as there was a knock on his door. It had been three weeks since he had been back at work, as he had fought not to be sent home now, just at the end!

A familiar face peeked round his door, looking rather better fed and healthier than the last time.

“Janine! Come in girl, Jeez, girl, you’re looking wonderful,” he said, standing up.

He was right, for she looked radiant.

Her hair was a little longer, having been shaped properly by a decent hairdresser in Paris. Her uniform, still her mix and match of American, British, and those German boots, was tailored to show off her superb figure as best as a uniform could. However, it was her eyes that seemed to say the most. They sparkled. She was relaxed and a lot more settled. No longer looking like that scared little rabbit that had screamed in the dark, all those months ago.

“How’s the leg?” she asked, as she sat in the other chair in his office. She crossed her legs, and smiled as she watched Chuck’s eyes follow the movement.

“Doing okay, thanks. I’ll never play for the Giants again, but, what the heck, I could be dog meat.”

She smiled, taking her cap off and shaking her hair free.

“So, where’s your General, I hear he never lets you go far too away from him?”

She smiled, yet she seemed totally unconcerned, which surprised him a little. The rumours were rife, but he knew her enough to be frank with her. He was also anxious to find out the truth, as the girl he knew would never stoop so low.

“Not you too?”

“Sorry,” he said, smiling.

“Actually, and this is for you alone, he’s not my lover, he’s my dad.”

Chuck stared at her, knowing her humour and waiting for her giveaway smile. It never came.

“For real?”

“Yup. I am part French and part Scottish. It’s very complicated, but this must never go further than this room unless I do it, okay?”

“Have you always known?”

“Oh yes. My mother died when I was quite young so I lived with my grandparents because Daddy was off on his various overseas postings. He was married to my mother, so she was Cameron, as was I. When I was taken by the Germans, I just knew that if they found out they had the child of a British General, then they would try to use it. So I used my Grandmother’s surname and became all French.”

“Why not use the Cameron name now?”

“No. We’ve agreed that I will just carry on as Chavanay. Everyone knows me as Janine Chavanay, so it is less complicated. Particularly as we are supposed to be working together now. Otherwise, everyone will think I got the job because of who he is. In reality I got him the job,” she said with a cheeky grin.

“You’re right, it’s sure complicated. That’s fine, I respect your telling me, but what can I do for you?”

“I need to trace some German officers, so I came to have access to your files.”

“Sure, of course. Can I ask why?”

She told him, omitting that she was after one officer in particular.

It was April 30^th 1945.

The news of Hitler’s suicide came a day later, by which time Janine had discovered where they were holding Otto. She was ready to go and find him when her father called her into his office.

She stood waiting as he spoke to three senior British officers. When he had finished with them, they all turned and left, they saw the attractive French girl who seemed to follow the General everywhere he went, and acknowledged her with nods and small, knowing smiles.

They had all heard the rumours of her being his mistress, but there was a new one circulating, the one that said she was actually his illegitimate daughter.

She closed the door behind the last Major.

“Morning sir,” she said.

“Stop that nonsense and come and give your old dad a kiss.”

She smiled and did as she was told.

“Now, news is just in. The German high command in Berlin has just surrendered. General Alfred Jodl is being escorted to Reims to sign the instrument of unconditional surrender at Ike’s HQ. That is anticipated to happen on the 7^th May. The end of the European theatre of war will be officially declared over on the 8^th May at 2300, Central European time.”

She stood quite still for a moment.

“Just like that?” she said.

He smiled. “It is a bit of an anticlimax, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know. I’m a bit numb. What happens now?”

“We have to really start working. The Japs are still fighting for every rock and island, so they might go on for months yet. Churchill thinks we might have a few months grace before the bloody Russians start playing silly buggers. They’ll all be trying to show how inhuman and dastardly the Huns have been, so we can work to try to snatch the key people needed to rebuild our sector of Germany. There is no doubt that the Russians will annex their portion, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they don’t cut it off from the rest with barbed wire, fences and dogs!”

Janine immediately thought of Otto and his family near Dresden.

Her father saw her expression, and smiled gently.

“Now, I am going to need efficient German officers to assist with the relocation programme. Would you happen to know of any?”

Janine grinned. “Oh, I think I could find you a few.”

“Best you do. I want you to come to Reims with me on the 7^th. It’s an historic occasion, so I am sure you will want to be able to tell my grandchildren that you were there.”

Janine almost cried and gave her father a hug.

She almost ran out of the office and looked for a vehicle.
 

*          *          *
 
Otto was bored. Rumours were rife in the camp. Conditions were basically good, but the over crowding was beginning to tell. On the morning of the 3^rd May, the were all out in the spring sunshine for roll call, when the US camp commander, a Lieutenant Colonel, came to address them. A German Captain was used as an interpreter, so the message was clear.

“Gentlemen. I have to inform you that Adolf Hitler is dead! Russian High Command inform us, that during the battle for Berlin, the Fuhrer is said to have taken his own life in his bunker in Berlin on the 30^th April. The Germans attempted to dispose of his body by burning it in the garden, but Russian soldiers located his remains, so it is confirmed that he is dead.

“Berlin is now completely in allied hands, and the German high command has surrendered. Your General Jodl is expected to attend General Eisenhower’s Head Quarters in a few days to sign the official unconditional surrender document."

“Therefore, we are going to step down the usual security arrangements, and begin the long process of relocation for all of you. Clerks will be required and officers may volunteer their organisational abilities to facilitate your return to your homes and families.”

He paused as a group of allied officers entered the compound and made their way over to the raised dais upon which the Colonel was making his address.

“These officers will be supervising the process, and you will come to see a lot of them over the next few days.”

“Gute, kann, habe ich die Blondine?” said one single German voice near the approaching group, that was followed by laughter that started from those nearest the group, for someone had recognised that one of the officers was a very pretty blonde girl with the French tricolour on her shoulder.

Otto was standing some way away, so he strained to see. Although they were some sixty metres away, he knew as soon as he saw the way she stood that it was Janine. The girl stood up on the dais next.

Her voice rang out clearly in the still morning air. Her German was excellent, and Otto smiled.

“I’m looking for officers who will help me to make the job easier. There will be no advantages, as if you join the team the chances are that you will not be amongst the first to leave. However, you do get to work with me, so what more can you ask for?”

She paused as general laughter spread through the assembled men.

“Some clerks will be available to collate names of willing officers. The fact you are in this camp means that you are not under investigation for war crimes. Therefore, there is no reason for you to suspect we have any other ulterior motives other than assisting you to go home. I hope in peace we can find a new future in cooperation.”

She stood down and Otto surreptitiously wiped a tear from his eye.

“If she is the face of the future, then sign me up!” said an artillery Captain.

Otto smiled, and watched with amusement as the officers moved forward as one to sign up to help.

Lieutenant Colonel Jack Greenbaum watched and turned to the girl.

“Okay, I was wrong, you were right,” he said with a grin.

“I cheated, sir. I used those assets I know I have and you guys don’t have.”

He handed her a glass of bourbon.

“Here’s the drink I owe you. Cheers!”

Janine was eager to see Otto again, but knew she was on dangerous ground. It took all her will power to keep away from the initial process, as she waited to see whether his name was on the list.

That evening as she scanned the long list of names, she found his near the end. She smiled, as he had not rushed forward either. They had both learned patience. Good things come to those who wait.

The next day, she had split the names into six lists, and divided them amongst the other officers. Needless to say, Otto was on her list.

One by one, she interviewed the twenty officers on her list. She kept one until last.

Finally, feeling weary, the NCO showed Otto into her room.

As soon as the door shut, she was in his arms. They fused into one almost immediately.

“About time. I was going mad,” he said, when they came up for air.

She just smiled and kissed his cheek.

“I had to tell my father,” she admitted.

“Everything?”

“Oh yes. He guessed you were German, even though I was vague.”

“He doesn’t mind?”

“Of course he minds! He’s a bloody Major General, for God’s sake!”

Otto frowned.

“Your father is a Major General in the French army?”

Janine giggled, which was an incongruous sight for a Captain.

“No, he’s in the British army.”

Otto shook his head.

“Perhaps it is time for you to tell me those secrets I didn’t want to hear.”

She looked a little downcast suddenly. He instantly felt sorry he suggested it, and was about to tell her not to.

“I suppose I must. I hadn’t really planned to, yet. Which is silly, because I may as well get it over and done with.”

She let go of him and walked to the far end of the room, and looked out of the small window.

Without turning round, she started to talk.

“Otto, it was bad enough telling my father this story, so just let me speak without interruption. Ask me what you like at the end, but just don’t judge me too harshly. I have tried to plan how to say this, but no matter how I try, there is no way to say this easily. If, at the end you no longer want to know me, I will understand. I won’t be happy, but I recognise that your happiness is more important to me than my own.”

She paused, and Otto realised that she was crying.

“It started when I was born….
 

*          *          *
 
By the time she finished, tears were streaming down her cheeks. Otto was stunned.

He was stunned out of complete surprise. He had tried to think of all the possible secrets she could have. They ranged from her having an illegitimate child, to being the bastard daughter of a senior German Officer. Nothing prepared him for the truth, and he sat there completely wordless.

“You were a man?” he asked, when he found his tongue again.

“No, it seems I never was, but I thought I was.”

As the truth filtered through his brain, his overwhelming feeling was sorrow. He felt sorry for this poor girl, cheated out of her girlhood, and forced to be something and someone she should never have been!

“You were a paratrooper, escaping from Arnhem when we met?”

She nodded.

“So, you’re definitely British, and not French?”

“I’m part French,” she replied, still unable to meet his eyes.

He smiled, walking over to where she stood, her forehead against the cool glass, letting the tears roll down her face unchecked.

He gently took her by the shoulder, pulling her round to face him. As he looked down into those rather damp blue eyes, he smiled and, using his index finger, he moved a strand of blonde hair out of her eyes.

She looked so miserable, his heart melted, as he realised that the past didn’t matter. He loved her now, and so utterly he would be willing to accept her regardless of anything!

“Okay, now that is out of the way, when are we getting married?”

She stopped crying for a second, just staring at him in amazement.

“You still want me?” she asked, her voice very small.

“Of course. If you’ll have me?”

She smiled and flung her arms around his neck, hugging him so hard he thought he’d suffocate.
 

*          *          *
 
Otto went back to his hut with the largest smile on his face he ever had. It was like a fairy tale he had learned as a child, only he was the handsome prince and his princess had come to carry him off to live happily ever after.

He was whistling as he went into the hut. The same officer that had moaned at him for being too happy several weeks ago, looked at him.

“You’re doing it again. Anyone would think you didn’t want to go home.”

Otto looked at the man, and thought about what he had said.

“My friend, where is home?”

“Home? I don’t know about you, but mine is near Stuttgart.”

“My home is where my heart is. At the moment, my heart is right here.”

“You’re bonkers.”

Otto smiled as he thought about the amazing tale that Janine had told him.

“Yes, my friend, I think you may be right. Then, I have the right to be. I am engaged to the most unusual girl in the world!”

With that, he eased himself onto his bunk and shut his eyes. The smile on his face said it all. The other officer shook his head.
 
 
Chapter 13
 
 
Janine joined her father on the trip to Reims, and stood in the background as the surrender was signed.

It was quite a formal occasion, but understated. The Germans looked tired and resigned, the allies looked pleased and yet eager to pack up and go home. She was only too well aware that the next few months would be as tough, if not tougher than the last few.

On her return to the camp, she found a different atmosphere. The guards had all but gone, but the gate was still locked. Although some US soldiers were detailed to stand guard, more to prevent French civilian retribution against the Germans, than to prevent escape.

They went to work almost immediately, starting to process the massive logistical requirements to move thousands of POWs back to their homes. It was never going to happen overnight, indeed, for many of the Germans, it would be many months before they were to see their homeland again.

In the meantime, work parties were organised to rebuild the damage done to the surrounding countryside by the war. It became a common sight to see large columns of Germans, with one or two Allied escorts, resurfacing roads, digging ditches and rebuilding ruined homes.

It was very odd working in close proximity to each other, so Janine and Otto had to be very careful not to give into the temptation to touch and smile the other. As the distrust and animosity between old adversaries slowly died away, so there was a genuine warming of relations generally.

For some, however, the painful memories of lost comrades or family meant that for them the only good German was a dead German. For the French civilian population who had to endure much during the years of German occupation, this feeling was very common indeed.

Part of the job entailed signing travel permits and orders for service personnel, or for their families. Gradually, a pattern emerged, of E. German men and their families, requesting travel permits to locations of obscure relatives in W. Germany. This was very difficult for a variety of reasons. The entire internal German infrastructure had collapsed, so lines of communication were completely lost. New lines involving the allies had to be constructed, which caused massive problems as soon as the Russians became involved.

Records were completely missing, as were complete towns and villages, so making contact with a family in a known area became impossible at times.

Janine and her colleagues assisted these applications whenever possible. One of the first she processed was for a young nurse called Gretchen Schneider, eventually located in a camp for refugees near the Polish border, to be transferred to the military hospital near Valenciennes, in northern France, to assist with the wounded German POWs.

She then located a young U-Boat Lieutenant, Peter Schneider, currently held in a POW camp in Sutherland on the West Coast of Scotland. Locating him had been easier, as the British records were intact, if a little bureaucratic to wade through. Papers were duly arranged for his transportation to France in the first instance, for onward movement to a destination yet to be decided.

She didn’t tell Otto of either of these, realising that the wheels of military bureaucracy grind very slowly, so there was no guarantee that the orders could be expedited in the short term. She simply attached a memo to the permits for both individuals to contact her on arrival at Valenciennes.

Although the war in Europe was over, the Japanese were still fighting, but it became almost a forgotten war. In Europe, peace didn’t alleviate the shortages of war, so rationing still existed, yet there was a mood of change in the air.

Janine went to see the American General who was her father’s immediate superior. She wanted to obtain permission to settle in the US once she was demobbed. She had compiled a report stating that as she had been forced to work for the Nazis, she could be seen as a collaborator in the eyes of some, and she wanted to make a clean start with her fiancé.

She was honest and stated that she had formed an attachment with a German officer, so prior to taking any serious steps, she needed assurances that they would be able to start afresh in the USA and provide their chosen country with two honest and dependable citizens.

General Harold G. Maddox had seen the report and asked for background on the girl before speaking to her. He was surprised at how many knew of her, and consequently heard nothing but positive reports.

He found William Cameron in the mess one morning, and went over to him.

“Morning Will!”

“Harry.”

“Got a minute?”

“Of course, what’s the problem?”

“No problem. I’ve been sent an application by your little French Captain, Janine Chavanay, so I wanted to ask your opinion.”

“Oh yes?”

Harry looked around the mess before lowering his voice.

“Look Will, between the pair of us, are you screwing the girl?”

Will laughed long and hard.

“Dear me, no. Heaven forbid! What gave you that idea?” he finally said.

“Well, you seem inordinately close.”

“My dear chap, that’s because she’s my daughter. We couldn’t tell anyone, so she uses her French grandmother’s maiden name!”

“Your daughter?”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t heard the rumours?”

“Well, I heard them and discounted them. Your daughter?”

“It’s long and complicated. What’s the report about?”

“She’s applied for permission to live in the US as a US citizen.”

“Good, she’ll do you proud!”

“You knew?”

“It was my idea. Her boyfriend is a German, so they would find settling down over here rather awkward, wouldn’t they?”

“Shit, she told you that as well?”

“Harry, she is the love of my life. She has gone through a really rough time in this damn war. She is completely honest with me, and as discreet as the day is long.”

Harry scratched his head, and shook it.

“Boy, this is a really fucked up world,” he said, and wandered away muttering.

He summoned Janine to see him.

She stood at attention in front of his desk.

“Relax, Captain Chavanay, or is it Cameron?”

Janine swallowed and looked at him.

“Sir?”

“I’ve spoken to your father. I have to confess to being more than a little surprised, but it is preferable to the other rumour,” the General said.

Janine had the grace to blush.

“So, you want to settle in the USA. Any idea where?”

“Some where warm and near the sea. I want to go to university and my fiancé wants to finish his engineering degree he started before the war.”

“He’s a Kraut, right?”

“He is a German Officer, yes sir.”

It was the General’s turn to blush.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think for a moment.”

Janine shrugged, a small sad smile flitting across her lips. “I suppose we’ll have to get used to it. So far, I have only told my father. You’re the second to know.”

“I’m flattered. I appreciate your honesty. Now, answer me one thing. When did you meet?”

“We met just after Operation Market Garden. I worked with him as an interpreter.”

The General frowned. “That was last year.”

“September, yes sir.”

“So, he was an enemy at that time?”

“Yes sir, and I told him that a relationship was impossible. He had been very kind to me, but I could see he was attracted to me. I liked him but was very confused. He believed me to be French, and so thought he understood. The French are not very kind to women who collaborate, or fraternise with the enemy.”

“I have a problem here, so help me out. What the heck were you doing in occupied Holland?”

Janine paused, not knowing whether to tell him the truth.

“What did my father tell you?”

“Not a lot, only that you were his daughter.”

“All I can say is that I was working for the war effort at the time.”

General Maddox frowned. Much of the covert and secret war that Britain had waged since 1939 was still highly classified, so he assumed that she was involved in some form of secret mission.

“Ah, I think I understand. So, what happened?”

“We went our separate ways. I met up with the US army, while he was posted to a tank division. He was captured after the Battle of the Bulge, so by that time I was working as an interpreter with the MPs. We found each other once more, and I realised that I still had strong feelings for him.

“There was nothing I could do about it as he was sent to a POW camp. After the surrender, he has been working with me on the resettlement programme. We see each other every day, but we cannot even show each other affection. It’s driving us both mad. That is why we want to try America, sir.”

“How the hell did you get into Holland in the first place, or were you already there?”

Janine looked at the General.

“Parachute.”

His eyebrows almost took off.

“So you were a spy or working with the resistance?”

“It’s a long story, and I must ask you never to repeat this to anyone.”

Intrigued, the General nodded.

“Agreed, go on.”

Janine told him.

Harold Maddox had rarely been lost for words, but her story succeeded in completely silencing him.

He stared at this attractive young woman, who stared back with fearless, proud eyes.

He tried to imagine her as a tough young paratrooper.

He failed.

“That’s the truth?”

“Absolutely. Now do you see why we have to be given a fresh start?”

“Your German Major, he knows?”

“Of course, do you think I’d keep that a secret between us?”

Harry shook his head. He didn’t know what to think.

“And all the time, you were a girl?”

She smiled.

“So it seems, but it was a pity no one told me. But if they had, I would never have had all this excitement, would I?”

He chuckled, scrawling his approval on the application.

“I’ll have this processed as a matter of urgency.”

He was rewarded with a huge, delighted smile.

“Thank you, General. Will you come to the wedding?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world!”
 

*          *          *
 
A few days after that meeting, Janine was working late in her office, double-checking the progress done that day. There was a knock on the door.

It was open and she saw an American PFC.

“Yes?”

The man seemed unsure, but rank was rank, regardless whether it was attached to a stunning blonde or six-foot man. He saluted.

“Excuse me, ma’am, this lady has orders to report to you.”

Janine looked and just behind the soldier was a small, fair-haired girl, much the same age as she.

“Fraulein Schneider?” she asked in German.

“Ja,” the girl said, confused.

Janine turned to the soldier.

“Thank you, you may go.”

“Ma’am.” The soldier saluted and left.

“Ich bin Hauptman Janine Chavanay,” she said, and waved the girl into her office.

Gretchen was about five foot four. She was wearing a drab brown coat and carrying a beaten up suitcase. It was so similar to the one Janine had lugged about Holland that she had to smile.

She was a pretty girl, but looked very tired and thin. Huge dark rings were under her eyes, and she trembled a little. She had been whisked out of a refugee camp, with no explanation. Fearing the worst, she now found herself in the office of a very attractive and confident female French officer, who spoke excellent German.

She had been terrified that the Russians would come and rape all the females in the camp. Terrible stories had circulated, and as she was so alone, she had cried herself to sleep for the last month.

“Sit please. I need to explain why you are here,” Janine said in German.

The girl sat.

“Can you tell me when you last saw your brothers?”

“My brothers? A long time ago. Peter on his last leave, it must have been two years ago now. I saw Otto briefly, when he came back from Russia with his injured knee. I saw him just before he was sent to France. Why?”

“Firstly, I am delighted to tell you that your brothers, Otto and Peter, are both alive and well. The British Royal Navy picked up and captured Peter a year ago, after his U-Boat was sunk, and I’ve traced him to a POW camp in Scotland. Otto is here in France. He was captured just after the Ardennes offensive in December last year.”

The girl went through an amazing transformation.

“Otto and Peter, alive?” she asked, breathlessly. “I never knew, no one told me anything.”

Janine smiled.

“Yes, and there is a little more. I have arranged for Peter to be shipped here too. I expect his arrival any day.”

Gretchen started to cry. These tears were tears of relief and joy. For so long she had believed herself to be totally alone, and had thought of suicide many times. Now this stunning French woman was telling her that her brothers were alive and that she would see them soon.

“But, I don’t understand, why am I here?”

“You are here so that you and your brothers can find somewhere to live, away from the Russians.”

The tears flowed even more heartily now, and she grabbed Janine’s hand and kissed it.

“Thank you, thank you. But, why do you do this for us?”

Janine smiled.

“I could hardly let my future sister-in-law live under Russian rule, now could I? I mean, how could she be a proper aunty if she was stuck all the way over there?”

Gretchen blinked and stared at this girl.

“Sister-in-law?”

“Otto and I are to be married,” she explained.

“Mein Gott!”

Janine just smiled.

“There is one more thing,” Janine said.

“There’s more?”

Janine laughed at the girl’s expression.

“Neither of your brothers knows about each other, and nor do they know about you. As you’re a qualified nurse, I have arranged for you to be attached to the military hospital here, and also I have booked in your stubborn brother to have his bad leg looked at. I think it would be a nice surprise that the nurse who looks after him is his lovely sister, don’t you?”

Gretchen started to smile and she seemed to have lost that haunted look she had had at first. Janine stood up.

“But first, you need to have some hot food and a hot bath. Would you join me for supper?” Janine asked.

“May I wash first? I have been travelling for a long time, and I haven’t washed properly for several days.”

“Of course. I have arranged accommodation for you in the nurses’ quarters. We can pick up your new uniform tomorrow, but I’ll take you to your room now.”

Janine picked up her cap and put her tunic on. She turned out the light, and walked down the corridor with Gretchen. Outside she slung the case in the back of her Jeep, while the bemused and confused German girl slid into the passenger seat to be driven the short distance to the nurses’ quarters.

She checked in with the reception, and took her to the single room in the second floor.

“I had arranged for towels and wash kit to be supplied, so that is for you. The bathroom is just over the corridor. I’ll meet you downstairs in twenty minutes?”

“Thank you.”

Janine went to leave.

“Captain?”

She turned back.

“My name is Janine. Forget the uniform.”

Gretchen smiled.

“Thank you.”

“It’s a pleasure. Enjoy your bath.”

Enjoy was the understatement of the decade.

Gretchen lay in the gloriously hot water, and used so much soap she couldn’t believe. She scrubbed every inch of her body and her hair about six times. She noted that Janine had left some delousing cream on her bed. She was uncertain whether she had lice, but she used it nonetheless.

Gretchen was a little late downstairs, and found Janine talking to the French concierge in fluent French.

She had dressed in a clean dress, and had even used a little of her precious make up.

Janine saw her and smiled.

“My, you look totally different. You look so pretty.”

“Oh, I feel so much better. Thank you, Janine.”

The French concierge frowned at the use of German, and Janine said something to her. The woman laughed and then smiled at Gretchen.

“Come on. Let’s go eat.”

Janine took her to a small restaurant in Valenciennes. Most of the diners were Americans, so as soon as Janine arrived, the French patron treated her like a long lost relative and they were shown to a nice table by the window. She was the only one wearing the French uniform so a free bottle of wine arrived without her asking for it.

“They think I’m something special, and I’d hate to disillusion them,” she said to Gretchen.

”You are special!” Gretchen said, and Janine smiled.

“I think we all are, but the shame is that we forget it.”

Gretchen had the nicest meal she had eaten in four years. Janine discovered that she was three months older than the German girl. Gretchen had trained as a nurse when she was seventeen, and immediately found herself in a hospital dealing with the aftermath of the Russian debacle.

Horribly mutilated soldiers came through her hands, and she had seen so much suffering that it hurt.

The two girls chatted as if they had been friends for years. Gretchen was in awe of the blonde French girl, who had a level of confidence that she could only admire.

“You speak wonderful German.”

“I improved when I worked with your brother. I happened to fall in love with him at the same time.”

“How?”

Janine told Gretchen an abbreviated version of her story, omitting some of the gender problems and the fact she had once been a paratrooper. She didn’t think the girl could take all that as well.

“I’d like you to be a bridesmaid,” Janine asked, and Gretchen burst into tears.

So much had happened so quickly, that simple very ordinary request was the final straw. Gretchen was certain that life was over, and she was doomed to a drab existence under Russian domination. Suddenly she had a hand of friendship held out, and what a hand it was.

They finished their meal and Janine took the German girl back to her quarters.

“Tomorrow, I’ll be here at 0800, and we’ll have breakfast. I will take you to the hospital, introduce you and see that you get your kit. There are other Germans there, some nurses and doctors. Believe me when I tell you that life gets better from now on.”

Gretchen smiled, and Janine kissed her cheek.

“Goodnight.”
 

*          *          *
 
Otto grumbled.

“My leg’s fine.”

“No, it isn’t. You’re still in pain and can’t walk without that damned stick, so you need to get it fixed!” Janine said.

“But, I will be off my feet for weeks.”

“Just do as you’re told, and stop making a fuss. Come on, everyone is looking at you.”

They walked down the hospital corridor.

“Here we are. Your name is on the door.”

Otto looked at the door.

MAJOR SCHNEIDER

“How did you arrange this?”

“I’m a General’s daughter, remember?”

He chuckled.

“Go on, get your kit off, and into bed.”

“No. I’ll wait for the nurse, thank you Captain.”

Janine saw Gretchen in her smart new uniform as she came down the corridor. Gretchen saw Otto and her smile started.

Janine hoped she would follow the plan.

“On ze bed, pliz monsieur.” Gretchen asked in her only English that Janine had taught her.

Otto grumbled and stared at Janine.

“Are you staying?”

“Why not, I’m interested?”

Gretchen moved in behind Otto, who hadn’t even glanced at her.

“My what a wonderful bottom you have!” she said in German.

Otto’s eyes were a joy to behold. They widened in surprise, partly at the voice and partly at the choice of words.

He spun round and stared at his little sister.

“Gretchen!”

They hugged each other, tears streaming down their faces.

Otto looked over his sister’s shoulder at Janine.

“You did this!” he said and she smiled, leaving them alone.

She went and spoke briefly to the surgeon, and then heard Otto shout.

She went back into the room.

Otto looked at her with such tenderness that her heart sang.

“I can never thank you for this,” he said, tears still rolling down his face.

“Just don’t be late for the wedding,” she said and gave him a kiss.

“I gotta go. Look after him, sis,” she said to Gretchen, and walked out.

“She called me sis!” she heard Gretchen say.

Janine smiled.
 

*          *          *
 
The operation was a success. The American surgeon was horrified at the state of Otto’s leg, and had to virtually reconstruct the knee. He inserted two steel pins to strengthen the joint, which he hoped would recover to about eighty percent efficiency as opposed to about eight.

Janine went to see him regularly. Gretchen was kept very busy, as there were many Germans needing treatment and her ability to understand them was important. She picked up a little French and some English, so was better able to do her job.

She also picked up a young American officer.

She had been on a break when another nurse asked her to take a patient in a wheelchair down to X-ray.

The young man, an infantry second Lieutenant aged just twenty-one, had received grenade fragments in the legs, shoulder and chest area. They had removed the bulk, but needed to ascertain whether any were still inside his body.

Mike Cornell was fed up, for he had finally managed to get over to Europe, to be sent to the front and wounded within three days. Two days later, Hitler shot himself, and it was all over.

Now he was in pain, frightened, alone and stuck in a hospital full of foreigners a long way from home. His girlfriend from high school had written to him to say she was engaged to a pilot in the US Navy, so he was about as depressed as he could get.

He was waiting in his ward for a nurse to take him down to have another X-ray.

A pretty, fair-haired girl arrived.

“You are Mike?” she asked in heavily accented English.

“Yup. That’s me.”

“I Gretchen,” she said and smiled.

“Howdy Gretchen. Isn’t that a German name?”

“Ja. I German.”

“No shit? You’re the first German I’ve ever seen!”

She smiled weakly and pushed him down to the elevator. By the time they arrived at the X-ray department, Mike was chatting away as if he was at the prom. Gretchen, however, understood very little, so she smiled and nodded a lot.

An hour later, she returned him to his ward, and he had hardly drawn breath. When she assisted him back to bed, the man in the next bed made a comment that Gretchen didn’t understand.

Mike went red and said something back. Gretchen left them and hoped there wasn’t going to be a fight.

One of the other nurses was chuckling. She was French, but spoke German.

“What did they say?” she asked.

“The one in the bed asked Mike to pass you over when he’d finished with you. Mike told him to go stuff himself as you were too good for a fucking pilot!”

Gretchen went red.

“Mike’s last girl friend dumped him for a pilot,” the other girl explained.

“Oh,” said Gretchen. She was rather pleased that Mike had come to her defence so easily.

Over the next few days, Mike would seek her out and always be nice to her. When she had a free moment, she would come and check him and he would teach her some more English.

Otto observed his sister as she rejoined the human race, and was pleased.
 
 
Chapter 14
 
 
Janine was supervising the loading of seven commandeered busses to transport two hundred German soldiers back to Germany. They were being taken to the border and then on to a train station for their various destinations.

A jeep pulled up and a British MP lance Corporal came over.

He saluted her.

She returned it.

“Captain Chavanay?”

“Yes?”

“I have a Lieutenant Schneider for you ma’am.”

“Oh, under escort?”

“No ma’am. I was escorting some Nazi party officials, and he was included for the ride.”

“I see.”

He produced a document, which she signed.

“Thank you, ma’am!” he said and saluted again. She returned it with a smile.

He marched over to the Jeep.

“Okay Lieutenant, out you get!” she said in German.

A tall, thin young man wearing dark naval uniform, with a filthy white polo neck pullover and a dirty white Kreigsmarine cap, got out carrying a small parcel wrapped up in brown paper and string.

“Peter Schneider?” Janine asked.

Peter looked at Janine, his eyes flicked towards her shoulders and he came gently to attention.

“Hauptman?”

Janine smiled.

“Come with me, please,” she said, in German.

Peter followed her to the jeep parked nearby. He got in and put the parcel on his lap.

Janine glanced at him. He was much leaner and a few inches smaller than his older brother was. At twenty-three, he was the middle sibling, and had always wanted to be an artist. He looked tired and lost, as did so many of them.

Janine drove in silence, pulling up at the hospital.

She got out, indicating for him to follow.

They went through the hospital, and Peter was frowning. His removal from the POW Camp was in advance of everyone else, so he found himself treated as if he was special. Now he was in French Hospital, following a stunningly attractive French girl, who also happened to be an army Captain. He just wondered what it was all about.

He watched as the Captain approached a nurse, who smiled at her as if they were old friends. They spoke in German, and it slowly dawned on Peter that the nurse was very familiar.

“Gretchen?”

“Peter!”

They hugged and once more Janine watched the tears flow.

Gretchen tried to tell Peter everything at once, and he couldn’t take it all in.

“Slow down! Now, a little bit at a time, please.”

“Otto is here, his leg was badly damaged and it is now on the mend. I was rescued from the Russians, and now you are here so the family is together,” she said and grinned broadly.

Peter frowned.

“I can see that we are here, but how, and why?”

Gretchen turned to Janine.

“Do you want to tell him, or shall I?”

“You tell him, sis!” Janine said.

Peter frowned. Sis?

“Peter, this is Janine Chavanay. She is responsible for getting us both here.”

“Okay, why?”

“Because, dummy, she is Otto’s fiancée!”

Peter gaped and stared at Janine.

“It is a long story. Come and see your brother. I’ll let him tell you.” They followed her to Otto’s room. Gretchen was so excited she was positively bubbling.

Otto was reading a magazine and smoking a cigarette.

“I told you, that habit must stop!” Janine said, taking the cigarette out of his mouth and throwing it out of the open window.

“You aren’t my wife yet,” he said, but kissed her soundly.

“I’ve missed you. Where were you this morning?” he said, and then glanced at the door.

“Mein Gott! Peter?”

Janine and Gretchen took the sidelines once more as the two brothers embraced.

Gretchen was crying too. She took Janine’s hand.

“Thank you for bringing us together. I never dreamed this could ever happen!”

Janine simply smiled. She left them alone and walked down the corridor. The hospital was full of victims. She frowned, as it wasn’t just the physically wounded who were victims, everyone was affected by the war. Regardless of nationality, or whether one was a civilian or a combatant, everyone was a victim in some way or other. Innocence was lost, and childhood destroyed.

Janine was determined that she would do everything in her power to ensure that some wherever possible, she would bring relief to victims.
 

*          *          *
 
Otto’s leg improved, while Peter worked for the POW relocation programme. As he had learned very good English whilst a POW, albeit with a Scottish accent. He was found to be very useful.

Mike, Gretchen’s admirer, underwent a second surgical procedure to remove more shrapnel from his chest. Although he kept a brave face over it, Gretchen knew that underneath he was just a frightened boy.

She was there when he came round, and he wept when he saw her.

The hospital was about the only place that Janine and Otto could speak to each other freely and even display affection towards one and other. Although weak, Otto was pleased to be finally free of the constant pain in his leg, and yet he was frustrated that he and Janine still had to hide their feelings and manage a covert relationship.

Janine was equally frustrated, and would spend ages moaning to her long-suffering father.

“My love, you chose this difficult path. You must be patient,” he told her.

“Patient? Oh daddy, I’ve been patient. I just want to do normal things, like go out for a meal or go to see a movie. Why can’t people be more forgiving?”

“Some people have lost an awful lot more than you, and they need to blame someone. At the moment, the Germans are carrying all the blame, and so you need to be mindful of this. I’ll have a word with Harry, and see if I can hurry things along!”

Gradually, the backlog of prisoners cleared, and Janine found herself with less and less to do. Otto was discharged from hospital, and they all got their heads together to find a location for the family to be relocated to.

They had a cousin before the war who lived on the Dutch/ German border near Stein. They contacted the local US military, and it seemed that the farm was now vacant, and as the next of kin, they applied for permission to take it on, on the understanding that if the owners returned, it became their property once more.

Peter prepared to leave for the farm, grateful to have somewhere to go, and eager to return to civilian life once more. He was planning to hire out the land, and turn the farm into a pottery to produce his own unique pots and other earthenware.

Mike made a good recovery, and surprised Gretchen by proposing to her just before being discharged.

She was flattered, but turned him down. She told him that if he still felt the same way after he had missed her for six months to write to her and ask again. He swore he would, and left promising undying love for her.

Gretchen was torn. She liked the boy, but was unsure whether she wanted to go to America away from her brothers.

Otto was on his legs again, still using his cane, for comfort rather than necessity. Janine and he went to a tailor’s shop, where she bought him a new suit and some shirts.

He had allowed his hair to grow a little, and so, with a suit on, he looked almost human. They had gone to a small restaurant, and because she was in her uniform as a French Captain, they were treated very well.

Otto spoke reasonable English now, and they tried talking in English for most of the time.

“So, my personal magic fairy, what happens now?”

Janine had not told him about her attempts to settle in America. They had talked in general about finding somewhere, and she knew he would quite like to go to the States. Her application was linked to them both continuing education or vocational training, so she knew she must be patient.

“I don’t know. I have put a few feelers out, and we must just wait.”

He smiled, knowing she was his helped, but still he hated the not knowing.

They walked down the road, her arm linked through his. They stopped at a dress shop, and they looked in. She saw her reflection and turned to him.

“I have had enough of this uniform. I want to change and be a real person again.”

He smiled.

“Soon, Janine, soon!”
 

*          *          *
 
Three days later, she was asked to attend General Harold Maddox once more.

“Come in, Janine,” Harry said, greeting her like an old friend.

A French Colonel was with him, so she nodded to him.

Harry introduced the Frenchman.

“Janine, this is Colonel Claude Framber. He is here to serve your demobilisation papers, with a letter from General De Gaulle, expressing his gratitude for the services you have rendered to France.”

The Colonel read a short prepared speech, and formally gave her some papers and the scrolled letter. He kissed her on both cheeks and saluted her.

She returned the salute.

Harry smiled and took his hat off.

“Now that’s over, can I offer you a drink?” he said.

The Colonel politely declined, and nodding to Janine, he departed.

Harry closed the door.

“Stiff necked prick!” he said, handing Janine a tumbler full of amber liquid.

“Cheers,” he said.

She took a sip and almost choked.

It was neat Malt scotch.

“Not to your taste, your father wouldn’t approve.”

“He’s not here. No, I just wasn’t ready for it,” she said, taking another swig of the burning liquid.

To prove a point, William Cameron entered the room.

“Hello sweetheart.”

“Daddy. I might have known!”

Harry gave his friend a stiff scotch.

“So, my little girl is a civilian, what are you going to do?”

She sat down.

“It depends on whether we can go to the states,” she said.

Harry chuckled. He took a manila envelope from his desk and handed it to her.

“I hereby have the pleasure to inform Miss Janine Chavanay, that as of this moment, she is a citizen of the United States, by virtue of services rendered to that nation, and her citizens in time of war. I also have the pleasure to inform her that she is enrolled in the university of California and Los Angeles on the course of her choice commencing September 1945. Further, should the aforesaid Miss Chavanay, be married by the time she embarks for the United States, then her spouse shall have automatic citizenship of the same.”

With that, he handed her the envelope.

“There is a marriage licence in there. Your name has already been entered, and you must enter your prospective husband’s details here. All you have to do is find a priest and a church.”

Janine hugged the General, and then her father.

“Thanks Harry,” said Will.

“No problem. Remember, I get to come to the wedding.”

Janine and her father left the office arm in arm. She lost no time in discarding her uniform, and in her red and white dress, she sought out Otto in his quarters.

Otto had a private room in the transit camp. It was virtually empty, with a handful of officers still hanging on, in case others came through that needed help.

Otto and Peter were discussing Peter’s plans.

Both were surprised when a very different Janine burst through the door.

She flung her arms around Otto, and showed him the US documents.

“We can get married now, if you want?” she said.

“I want, but where?”

Janine wanted to grab the first US chaplain and find a quiet room somewhere, but both her future husband and her father had other ideas.

A week later, Janine, Otto, Peter and Gretchen found them selves embarking on the ferry for England. Her father had provided papers for all of them, and as Janine was still technically a service woman until the end of the month, it was relatively easy.

At Dover, a car was waiting, into which they all squeezed in, with the luggage on the roof.

They rumbled though the chaotic road system to Wiltshire, where Jeannette and George welcomed then warmly.

Otto found his fiancée’s family delightful, and instead of facing animosity, he found friendship and an atmosphere of hope. They were all given rooms in the big house, and Janine smiled when she was given a separate room to her future husband.

Will arrived on the following day, and announced that all was arranged. The local church was booked, and the vicar was prepared to marry them by virtue of the emergency licence issued by the Allied Powers Europe!

Otto and Will went off and planned something secretive. Janine was upset that she wasn’t included, but no matter how she pleaded, neither of them gave any hint of what was going on.

Jeannette and Yvette, in true Gallic style, produced a wedding dress so utterly gorgeous that Janine cried as soon as she saw it. They had made it together. It was truly beautiful, in silk and satin, with a long train and veil.

She tried it on, and with some minor adjustments, mainly as her bust had grown slightly, it fitted beautifully.

They spent the week making the arrangements and cooking.

Gretchen and Janine had become the closest of friends, and for the first time Janine enjoyed being a girl doing girly things. She and Gretchen stayed up long into the night just talking about each other’s worlds. Gretchen now knew all about Janine’s past, so was utterly amazed as to just how normal the other girl was.

On the Saturday, the wedding was set for two pm. The day started badly, as it was raining, but as noon approached, the sun came out, and they were hopeful for a nice day.

Janine went up to change, and she heard some cars arrive. There were voices downstairs, and she recalled that Harry Maddox was sure to come.

George eased the old 1924 Bentley out of the garage. He had not used the old beast since 1940, and had spent the last three weeks making sure it would go.

Peter and Otto had spent the night in the local pub. Jeannette insisted that it was bad luck for a bride and groom to spend the night under the same roof.

Janine giggled at the thought of Otto wearing his Waffen SS uniform for the wedding, and decided that she’d be best keeping that joke to herself.

“My God, you look simply divine!” said Yvette, as they put the finishing touches to her corsage.

Janine just smiled. She was so happy, everything was going together so well.

“So, all set for tonight?” Yvette asked, and Janine went bright red.

Yvette laughed.

“I see you are. Now, Janine, you have no mother here, so is there anything you’d like to talk through?”

“Not really. But, why don’t you tell me about your wedding night?”

Yvette smiled, and proceeded to do just that.

Jeannette popped her head round the door to see a slightly dazed expression on Janine’s face, and Yvette giggling.

“You can do that?” Janine asked.

“Oh yes, but don’t do it every time, as he’d come to expect it!”

“What are you telling her?” Jeannette asked.

“Nothing!” said Yvette and Janine simultaneously.

Gretchen came in. Her Bridesmaid’s dress was a pale blue taffeta, and appeared rather early Victorian. It looked wonderful, and she even had a bonnet. She looked like little Miss Muffett.

Her face was aglow with excitement.

“Oh, how wonderful. Janine, you look lovely!” she said.

“So do you. I am so glad you’re here,” Janine said.

“Right! Come on. Its time to go,” announced George, and ushered them down to the waiting cars.
 

*          *          *
 
“Are you sure this is normal?” Otto asked William, at the door to the church.

“Quite sure. The kilt comes down to just above the knee and the sporran covers you know what.”

“I feel stupid,” the tall German admitted.

“Aye, well, you look a damn side better in that than in lederhosen!”

Otto smiled.

William turned to the young man who was about to become his son in law.

“Now, are you positive you want to do this?”

“Yes,” said Otto, and neither of the men was referring about the marriage.

“Then I am very obliged to you,” Will said.

“Sir. Your daughter has done so much for my family. It is the least I can do.”

William handed over the envelope.

“Here you are. Welcome to the family.”

Otto took it and nodded. They shook hands, and Otto joined his brother inside.

The Bentley pulled up, and William helped his daughter out. Jeanette and Yvette fussed around, and made some unnecessary last moment alterations.

A large American military car pulled up, and General Harry Maddox and a young staff officer stepped out.

Harry came over and gave the bride a hug.

“Why wasn’t I born thirty years later? You look wonderful, my dear!”

“Thanks, and it is so good to see you.”

“Oh, dear God!” said Gretchen, who went pale and had to hold onto Jeannette’s arm.

The staff officer was Second Lieutenant Mike Cornell.

He grinned, which made him look more like a college boy than ever. In front of everyone, he got down on one knee.

“I got all the way to Southampton, and realised I had left something behind! So, ma’am, with your permission, I should like to present my formal proposal to you for your consideration, once more.”

Gretchen burst in to tears, and pulled him to his feet.

To everyone’s delight she accepted, and the General and his aide took their places in church.

The organ started to play, and William offered his daughter his arm, which she took.

They entered the church and started up the aisle.

It was as she caught sight of her groom that Janine almost got the giggles, for Otto was standing there, dressed form head to toe in Highland finery. A Cameron tartan kilt, with the black formal jacket and sporran. From the gleaming buckled shoes, and red-diced stockings with the Skean Dhu firmly placed in the right stocking, he looked every inch a highland Chieftain, and her heart sang.
 

*          *          *
 
The final twist was played out. It was only when the vicar read out Otto’s full names did she realise that Otto was a nickname, and his real name was Oscar Richard.

However, her father and husband’s full duplicity was revealed when she signed the register. Having heard his first names, she was reconciled to being Mrs Schneider. As she bent over the book, she was amazed to read that Otto had written Oscar Richard Cameron.

Her father had arranged for him to change his name by deed poll.

Janine had come full circle.

She was now Mrs Janine Cameron, lawfully, and delightedly.

That evening, as she took him into her arms and loins, did she truly feel she was complete. As they consummated their marriage, she lifted her eyes to heaven, and thanked anyone who cared to listen for her life — so far.

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Fin. (Or is it the Beginning?)
 
 
Appendix A

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

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