The ill-fitting and old-fashioned garments pretending to be dresses might look ugly, but they gave Lotte and Gerlinde a sense of freedom and confidence they had missed clad in their Wehrmacht uniforms. Wearing headscarves, they looked like any of the country folk that swarmed the roads.
They walked along the main road and hoped to reach the border within two days. The scorching sun, though, made the walking arduous. When a horse-driven cart passed close by, Lotte wanted to stop it and beg a lift.
“But what should we say?” Gerlinde, the voice of caution, said. “We’ll never pass as Danes. We don’t even speak Danish!”
“We could say we’re German refugees on our way home.”
“Can’t wait to see all the goodwill that’s gonna bring us.” Gerlinde pursed her lips in a sarcastic smile.
They didn’t
