War Girls Box Set

Chapter 8

After twenty-four hours of traveling across the snowbound, war-torn country, the train stopped in Warsaw. A bedraggled Richard and Karl hopped off and asked for directions to the Wehrmacht headquarters, where they reported to the officer in charge.

Leutnant Meisinger cross-referenced his lists with their dog tags three times and still couldn’t believe the two filthy, sooty, and exhausted soldiers in front of him belonged to Oberstleutnant Schottke’s annihilated battalion.

Reports of the incident had been sketchy since the lost battle against the Red Army and the destruction of camp and communications.

“We’ll talk about this tomorrow,” he said with a glance at his watch and ordered them to be taken away.

Richard hadn’t expected a decoration, but he hadn’t expected either that nobody would believe their story. He and Karl were separated, and led away.

“Thanks,” Richard said when the soldier opened the door to his room.

“Don’t thank me yet,” the other man answered and held up the key in his hand before a flush of shame appeared on his face and he looked away.

Richard heard the key turn in the lock and footsteps walking away. So, I’m a prisoner now? A prisoner of my own army?

So, I’m a prisoner now? A prisoner of my own army?For the moment, though, he didn’t care; he entered the bathroom to take a long, lukewarm shower. It was almost like paradise to be clean again. He shaved his matted blond beard and grinned at the mirror. At long last he looked like himself again.

On his return to the room he found a clean Wehrmacht uniform lying on the bunk and a steaming hot meal sitting on the table. At least they were treating him like a soldier and not like the prisoner he effectively was.

Putting on fresh underwear, he sat down to eat every last morsel of his first hot meal in more than two weeks, and then dropped face down onto the bed, passing out within seconds.

Weak sunlight was streaming through the barred window when a knock on the door woke him up. An unknown soldier stepped into the room. “Get dressed and come with me.”

Judging by the expression on the man’s face, Richard took his cue and dressed in a hurry, swallowing down his questions.

“Follow me.”

Minutes later, Richard arrived in an interrogation room. He hadn’t seen Karl since the day before, and wondered if he’d received the same treatment.

“Heil Hitler,” Leutnant Meisinger greeted him.

Richard stood at attention and responded with the same greeting.

“I will need a full report of the events. Sit,” Meisinger said, and pointed to a table in the middle of the room.

Richard recounted the events of the fateful battle, his voice close to faltering as the memories assailed him.

“Why weren’t you with your battalion?” Meisinger asked again and Richard had difficulties suppressing a scream of annoyance. He bit down the snide remark and answered, “As I said before, Karl Wegener and I had been assigned to push the handcart with the reserve ammu–”

“The Wehrmacht has motorized vehicles for that! Why didn’t you use them?” Meisinger shouted at him. You rear-echelon motherfucker, you obviously have never been at the front or you wouldn’t talk such bullshit.

You rear-echelon motherfucker, you obviously have never been at the front or you wouldn’t talk such bullshit.“Leutnant, with all due respect, but–”

“Respect is what I’m missing here.” Meisinger shoved himself up and paced behind Richard, whose neck hair stood on end. Having the enemy behind one’s back was the last thing any soldier wanted. Although the Leutnant technically wasn’t the enemy, it felt like he’d deliberately made himself an adversary without cause.

“Sir,” Richard tried again, “all our vehicles were out of fuel. The little we had left was reserved for the sole functioning Panzer–”

“Now you’re telling me that your superiors were negligent fools who forgot to order enough materiel? I will tell you something, Soldat Klausen.” Meisinger walked around Richard and stabbed a finger at his chest. “You’re telling me a bunch of lies.”

“No, Sir, I–”

“The truth!” the Leutnant shouted with a tomato-red face, slamming his fist down on the desk. “I want the truth, Soldat Klausen!”

“Sir, I am telling you the truth,” Richard answered as fear gripped him.

“The truth is you are a spy!” The man adjusted his glasses and stared the boy in the face.

“No, Sir, I am not a spy,” Richard protested. “I am a loyal soldier and a patriot.”

“Your battalion was defeated, the camp ambushed and razed to the ground, and it’s just the two of you left to tell the tale?” Meisinger sneered. “Let’s have the real story now; I warn you my patience is at an end.”

Another officer walked into the room and said with a nod toward Richard, “Has he confessed?”

Richard glanced at the man’s epaulettes and recognized him as a major. But despite being several ranks above Leutnant Meisinger, he didn’t seem to be interested in taking over the interrogation. Instead he pulled out his Walther P38, loading and reloading it while he stared at Richard.

“There’s nothing to confess, Major.” Richard’s teeth began to chatter.

“At least you haven’t forgotten the chain of command,” the Major said and weighed the loaded pistol in his right hand. “Major Dietrich it is. And I’m not known for patience. So please spare me the lies and lay the facts on the table.”

“We’d been fighting Ivan, I’m sorry, the Red Army, for close to forty-eight hours and were running low on everything. Our battalion leader Oberstleutnant Schottke ordered Soldat Wegener and me to return to the camp and fetch reserves. But that blo…I mean, the handcart got stuck time and again in snowdrifts and the journey took us several hours. Just when we were about to make contact with Oberstleutnant Schottke, we heard a Stalin’s organ and dove for cover.”

Major Dietrich pursed his lips with disgust. “Stalinorgel you say? How many?”

Stalinorgel“I don’t know. Given how much they fired and how long it takes to reload them, I estimate at least three.” Richard folded his hands to keep them from trembling. “The rocket fire lasted several hours. When I crawled out of the ditch we saw a handful of our comrades frogmarched away by the Russians.”

“And these Russian troops, who killed everyone else, left you and your little friend alive?” Major Dietrich jumped up, the loaded Walter P38 in hand. “Do you think I’m stupid, Soldat?”

Cold sweat ran down Richard’s forehead, but he didn’t dare move to swipe it away. “No, Major, of course not. We got lucky, hiding far enough away, or maybe it was the darkness setting in that kept the Russians from doing a thorough search.”

“Let me tell you what really happened,” Major Dietrich said with a smug grin, “Ivan found you and your little friend, but instead of killing you they offered you a deal. Your life in exchange for becoming a spy for them.”

Richard heard the dull clicks of Major Dietrich’s pistol, and stars appeared before his eyes as he almost passed out. To be accused of being a defector meant facing a firing squad.

“No, Major. I didn’t. I’ve been a loyal soldier to the Reich for one and a half years. I wouldn’t…those Russian bastards…you really believe I could make common cause with them after they slaughtered all our boys?” Richard asked. For a moment he wished he had died in battle rather than face an interrogator who accused him of such abominable things.

“Well, Soldat Wegener tells a different story.” Leutnant Meisinger drew so close, Richard could feel his warm breath on his face.

“I have told you the truth,” Richard insisted and wondered if it was true that Karl had admitted to a lie out of fear, or if this was a mere tactic used to break him.

“We have ways to make you tell us the truth.” Meisinger barked a laugh and so did the g*n-clicking major. They stood up and walked out barking orders to the duty officer to lock Richard up in one of the cells until further notice.

Days and nights passed. Richard lost all hope of ever leaving the lock-up again, his only consolation being that the cell was dry and warm, and he received two meals a day like clockwork.

On the fifth day he was way past caring what happened to him. Scribbling endless letters home, he ran out of blank pages in his notebook and began formulating the sentences in his mind. This, and reciting the grand literature he’d read as a boy helped him keep his sanity.

Many years ago at school, the teacher had made them memorize The Song of the Bell by Friedrich Schiller. Richard’s memory was a bit rusty, but the more he recited, the better he remembered.

The Song of the BellPacing the cell in the rhythm of the verses, he exclaimed:

Festgemauert in der Erden

Festgemauert in der ErdenSteht die Form aus Lehm gebrannt.

Steht die Form aus Lehm gebrannt.Heute muss die Glocke werden,

Heute muss die Glocke werden,frisch, Gesellen, seid zur Hand!

frisch, Gesellen, seid zur Hand!Von der Stirne heiß

Von der Stirne heißrinnen muss der Schweiß,

rinnen muss der Schweiß,soll das Werk den Meister loben;

soll das Werk den Meister loben;doch der Segen kommt von oben.

doch der Segen kommt von oben.Zum Werke, das wir ernst bereiten,

Zum Werke, das wir ernst bereiten,geziemt sich wohl ein ernstes Wort;

geziemt sich wohl ein ernstes Wort;wenn gute Reden sie begleiten,

wenn gute Reden sie begleiten,dann fließt die Arbeit munter fort.

dann fließt die Arbeit munter fort.So lasst uns jetzt mit Fleiß betrachten,

So lasst uns jetzt mit Fleiß betrachten,was durch schwache Kraft entspringt;

was durch schwache Kraft entspringt;den schlechten Mann muss man verachten,

den schlechten Mann muss man verachten,der nie bedacht, was er vollbringt.

der nie bedacht, was er vollbringt.Das ist’s ja, was den Menschen zieret,

Das ist’s ja, was den Menschen zieret,und dazu ward ihm der Verstand,

und dazu ward ihm der Verstand,dass er im innern Herzen spüret,

dass er im innern Herzen spüret,was er erschaffen mit seiner Hand.

was er erschaffen mit seiner Hand.On the seventh day, the door opened, and a pale Karl stood in front of him. Richard almost cried with joy when he fell into his friend’s arms.

“Follow me,” an unknown voice said, and Richard’s head snapped up to see another soldier standing in the doorframe. Without a word, he and Karl followed him through long halls until he stopped in front of a door and knocked. “Major Dietrich wants to see you now.”

Richard’s heart pounded in his throat and he clenched his hands into nervous fists.

“Ah, there you are,” the major said, looking up from his papers as if he was meeting them for the first time, “Write down your observations in a detailed report, and hand it in to the duty officer. He’ll assign you quarters. Stay put until you get new marching orders. Dismissed.”

“Yes, Sir, thank you.” Richard couldn’t believe his good fortune and bolted out of the room, before the major changed his mind and sent him to a gory end by firing squad.

The next two weeks passed in a blur. After long months in grueling combat, it was almost surreal to have so much time on their hands. Karl and Richard spent their days getting to know the Polish capital, attending performances for the troops, drinking plenty of beer and cherishing life to the fullest. It was like the vacation long yearned for, and Richard’s only complaint was that he hadn’t received furlough to visit his family. But at least he had been able to write a letter to his mother and post it via the army postal service.

Of course the letter had been carefully fabricated and embellished to pass the censors and put Mutter’s worries at ease. It made no sense to tell her about his ordeal at the front or in the lock-up.

Karl and Richard were sitting over a beer and a round of skat with another soldier when the door to their quarters opened and the duty officer walked in. They quickly stood to attention, unsure what the officer wanted.

“Klausen and Wegener? Here are your new marching orders. Pack your stuff and report at the gate in thirty,” the officer said, handing them papers and slipping from the room again.

Bursting with curiosity, they scanned the documents. Both of them were to join a security division operating out of Lodz, a city about a hundred miles southwest of Warsaw. The main tasks of their new division were anti-partisan duties and surveillance of the Jewish Ghetto.

“I wonder if we’re being set up to see whether we are spies or not,” Karl said, his voice laced with fear.

“Let’s not think the worst. As long as we are true to ourselves, we have nothing to fear.” Richard looked forward to the fresh start and intended to make the best of the situation. “Anything’s better than going back to the front.”