by Susan Firman
CHAPTER 19
Captured
“I think the pain’s getting to him again.”
A voice broke through his silence. Then again, but he had no idea of how long it had been between each episode.
“We’ll get that bit out while he’s still a bit groggy.”
“Major! Major!” Hans tried to respond.
“It’s OK,” said another voice. “It’s all over.”
He tried to open his eyes, thought he had opened his eyes. The first voice spoke again.
“. . . the rest later. Nurse, we’ll put him over on that one for now.”
How long he had lain there, Hans had no idea. What did time matter any more? No more fighting. For him the war had ended and he was thankful for that. No more decisions or reports. He would have time, a slow dragging time waiting for all hostilities to cease. That could still take a long time, maybe years. He opened his eyes and moved his head so that he could look around. The area was filled with men, bandaged, each one lying on light army camp beds, their lower bodies covered only by one of the thin, grey army-issue blankets. He seemed to be the only German in the tent for he noticed that his bed had been put on its own to one side. A sentry stood guard on his right, only an arm’s length from the foot of his bed.
Maybe they think I’ll try to escape, he thought. He tried to laugh but it hurt too much. He was not sure whether it was his old leg wound or his shoulder. He attempted to move away from the pain but the stab in his shoulder indicated that that was where most of the pain was. He fell back on to the pillow. Not like this, I can’t.
Hans resigned himself to his situation and screwed his eyes closed again as the pain bit into his shoulder again. The healing process would take its own time, fluctuating between a deep burning deep into his shoulder blade to a racking, throbbing pain which overwhelmed him and brought out beads of sweat over his forehead and chest. Such was his state, when the voice of a nurse brought him back to consciousness.
“Where am I?”
When he tried to move, his left shoulder hurt too much and he fell limply back on to the pillow, his eyes closed again as the pain drove deep inside him making him feel hot and nauseas.
“Don’t move! Stay as you were. Here, would you like some water?”
He blinked several times to make sure he was not hallucinating, then re-opened his eyes and, finally forcing himself to focus, he found himself looking upward into the smiling face of the British nurse bending over him. She wore glasses. They had been pushed back up the bridge of her nose, firmly resting against her brow. He only knew two women who did that.
“Jan?”
The nurse held the mug to his lips and he sipped the deliciously sweet liquid. He had never known water to be so refreshing, so good. His body began to regulate itself and the sickening, hot feeling began to subside. He was able to focus better. He made a mental note of the uniform. Auxiliary Territorial Services, small white nurse’s head-scarf. Very tidy. It really was Jan Turner standing there.
“I saw the list of the German wounded newly come in . . . and there was your name. Took some time to find you. You didn’t seem to be in the large ward with the others.” She saw his bandage. “Shoulder, is it?”
He did not answer. She stood close to his bed looking down at him. “Lucky for you, it missed your lung.”
He nodded as he forced himself to speak but his words seemed hushed and far away.
“What a way to meet, Nurse.”
“Yes,” she answered, offering him another mug of water. “Can’t seem to get away from each other, can we?” She laughed at the idea. He refused the second drink. “You’re in an Allied military hospital. You’ve been brought here. We’re way behind the lines. This part’s normally reserved just for our ranks but we’re rather full at the moment. We’ve had to squash men in where we could; pack them in as tightly as the beds would allow. Some are still outside on stretchers.”
“What, your men or ours?”
“Yours, of course! Our men come first around here!”
Still the same Jan Turner, he thought. Always quick with her answers and always ready to get a dig in. But somehow it didn’t bother him any more. It just felt so natural.
“What happens now?”
“As soon as you’re well enough, they’ll post you off. Just like a parcel. You will be sent you to one of our holding camps.”
“I see.”
The way he was feeling, he didn’t really care what happened.
So, the tables have turned, he thought. Now I am the prisoner.
Jan’s voice penetrated through his thoughts.
“ . . . and now you’re under my charge and I tell you what you can or can’t do!”
He could not help noticing the look of triumph in the eyes behind the lenses. He was unable to fathom out whether it was because he was the captive or whether Jan Turner had entered his life again. Which ever it was, he felt too weak to discuss it in depth.
“Looks like it’s all over for me,” he commented. No more fighting. No more obligation in this battle.”
Jan’s eyes immediately softened. She leaned close over him and drew the sheet closer around his chest. “I’m glad, Hans. Really, I am.”
A frown crossed his brow. He didn’t know how to interpret her compassion.
“Glad? Why because I am hurt or because you have won and I’m under your control?”
“No, not at all. You’ve got it all wrong again, Hans Resmel. I’m glad . . . because . . . ” She felt unsure of how to tell him. She could not divulge the truth about her feelings, not with the listening ears of the guard nearby. It was not safe to be seen fraternising too much with the enemy, whoever the enemy might be. She tucked in the sheet over and over, lowering her voice so that her words would only be audible to Hans. “I am glad you are alive. That’s all.”
“Are you sure? The way I feel, Jan, it won’t be for long.”
She stood up again and checked his bandage. She had already stayed too long with this patient.
“Nonsense! You lost quite a lot of blood and you’re just feeling weak. But you’ll be fine. Before you can say ‘Jack Robinson,, you’ll be on the mend.”
For the next five minutes she checked the man in the next bed. He lay there without moving, his hands and most of his face under the white covering of bandages. Hans guessed that he had received burns. Maybe from an aircraft or tank. They were the ones who got badly burnt.
Jan returned. She popped a thermometer in his mouth.
“I will write and tell my Aunt you’re fine. She’ll be pleased. And I’m sure someone else will be, too.” A puzzled look came over his face. “Andrea,” she continued. “You know, your daughter. Or have you forgotten you have one?”
She paused to see what his reaction was but with a thermometer stuck under his tongue all he could do was look at her and gag. Jan was taking his pulse. He found himself enjoying the touch of her fingers.
He attempted to speak.
“I . . . I . . .” The rest stuck in the back of his throat and he thought he would vomit the thermometer out.
“You’re safe now. Out of danger. I’m sure that’s good news. At least for Aunty and Andrea.”
He didn’t think she sounded totally convincing, for as she had spoken those last words, she took out the thermometer and diverted her eyes away from him. It all seemed too contrived to him. He wondered what it was she was trying to hide. Knowing how tight-lipped Jan could be, he decided to lead the conversation back to his injury and capture.
“Will they have to operate?” he asked.
She removed her fingers from his wrist and wrote the information on the sheet.
“You’ll live. The medics gave you a shot of morphine for the pain and our doctors have already managed to remove the shrapnel. Now that the morphine’s wearing off, you feel worse but that’s normal. In the meantime, we’ll keep an eye on you to make sure sure the wound doesn’t become infected. Looks good so far. You’re not the only ones to have good do
ctors. We’ve also got excellent doctors and nurses, you know.”
Hans smiled weakly. Jan patted his hand that was laying on top of the bed sheet. She gave him a quick smile and then turned away. He lay watching her wind her way slowly between the beds until she had moved so far away from him that her figure dissolved into a sea of blurred shapes and grey canvas walls.
The stitches in his shoulder began to bite into his flesh. His raw wound felt as if it had been through the mangle and had been squeezed and pulled in every conceivable direction. All he was capable of doing was to lie still on the narrow bed and let the days pass by. Slowly ticking off each boring hour after the other until he lost awareness of time and had no idea what day it was.
At the far end from where he had been put he noticed three other beds containing Wehrmacht officers but they were too far apart for any conversation. One of the officers had briefly acknowledged Hans with a subdued wave of the hand. A guard was never far away so that it was most evident that these captured men were regarded as being potentially dangerous.
As the healing began, all his energy focussed inwards so that for long periods all he was sleep. He had been given another dose of morphine for the pain and that kept him comatosed for most of the night and through the following day. His only awareness was at meal time when he struggled to eat or during the intermittent interruptions when someone opened his mouth and pushed a thermometer between his lips. Everything else passed in a blur.
As the morphine was reduced, the throbbing returned and even though it was not as bad as before, he still found there were periods when the pain was still strong. But things were improving and he began to realise that he would not be kept in the hospital for many more weeks.
His face brightened when Jan came near, for he could ask her things he dared not ask the other nurses. Jan had come to take the early morning temperatures. She always made sure that his was the last bed she visited so that there were a few snatched minutes during which they could talk.
“How much longer?” He pushed himself more upright. “Have you any idea when they’ll move me?”
“I’m not sure.” She checked his progress sheet that was hanging on the foot of his bed.
“Until then will you be my own personal nurse?” He was brighter and had asked the question in a cheeky way. He raised his right eyebrow and made some attempt to incline his head towards her. She did not take the bait but answered him with a volume that could easily be heard several metres away.
“Sorry, Major but I’m assigned to this section to cater for all the men on this ward. You’ll have to just lie there and take what’s dished out.”
He noticed the interest of the guard. The man had walked a few paces closer towards the end of Hans’ bed. Hans spoke so that the man could hear.
“No complaints so far with this nurse. Better looking than the medics who picked me up.”
He tried to laugh a little but any movement aggravated the wound. He still found it painful to talk very much but he wanted desperately to keep the contact going between them. Jan replaced his note board and went round the side of his bed away from the guard. She smoothed her hands down over her uniform until, reaching the same height as his camp-bed, rested her hand on the edge. Hans slid his hand down until his hand made contact with hers. Instantly she drew away.
The guard remained watching. Hans could tell by his posture that he was unsure about what was going on. Hans gave the man a solemn look and then turned his attention back to Jan. He spoke so that the guard could hear.
“Nurse, before you do go, could you find out how the other wounded men from my unit are? Some were badly injured, far worse than I was. You see, I was responsible for them so I’d be really grateful for any information.”
He reached his good arm as far as possible and managed to touch the side of her tunic.
“No promises, Major. Any sensitive information is off limits. There is a war on, you know.” She faced away from the inquisitive guard and spoke little above a whisper. “I owe you one, Hans. Remember the time when you put your neck out to help me? I’ll see what I can do..” She raised the level of her voice again and made sure the guard could see her face. “Get some rest, Major. And stop talking. You can practise your English another time. That’s an order, sir!”
“Understood.”
Hans was feeling much better. He pushed the pain to the back of his mind and managed a cheeky wink. It made her feel warm and gratified that he had acknowledged her as more than a nurse who was serving on the opposite side. She walked swiftly away past the guard. She did not wish to betray her inner feelings she had for this wounded German officer.
Within a couple of weeks, the wound was beginning to heal and Hans was becoming more alert. He discovered that Nurse Jan Turner was a very efficient nurse. There was, however, little chance for them to talk together and words were hastily exchanged either during one of the painful dressing changes, or whenever she had some duty to perform in the vicinity of his bed. There was always the presence of the guard to consider, so when they wanted to exchange more than formalities, they spoke quietly and not much above a whisper. Hans had told her to take care, for he did not want her to be reprimanded on his account.
He was finding that he anticipated each appearance with a tingle of excitement. It made him feel special, as though he was the only one in the tent who could look forward to something resembling visiting time.
Jan did manage to find some information for him about the other wounded men. It grieved him to learn that one of the more seriously injured men had died several hours after arriving at the base. If only he could have pushed the clock back and acted sooner that man may be still alive. But then, retrospective things were so much clearer.
A new relationship was beginning to develop between Hans and his personal nurse. As Hans became stronger and the pain lessened, he found himself looking forward more and more to her visits. For the first time in his life, he was getting to know the grown up Jan. He found her a caring and efficient nurse, no longer the adverse, awkward teenager he had done battle with when he had stayed at her aunt’s. She also noticed her attitude change towards him and their previous connection had somehow bound them together in this world of war and hate. The suffering they had witnessed and the senselessness of all the maiming and killing; the suffering that was being endured day after day, hour by hour was drawing them closer together.
As they responded to the world around them, their response to each other was beginning to change. He found himself listening to what she had to say. She found that he treated her with more respect and consideration than she had ever known before. They discovered the common ground they had: the school, Miss Turner, the English countryside ¨C all the early pre-war memories and, best of all, Andrea. He lay in his bed and dreamed that the war had ended and together with Jan they could walk with Andrea across the rolling grassy hills behind the school grounds and look down in the valley at the tiny houses huddled and clumped together among old oak and beech trees. His words were giving her hope for a better future, hope for reunification in which they could possibly be more than friends.
Jan was in this elated mood when the bombshell hit. It was when the senior doctor called his nurses together for the usual quick weekly briefing in which he had handed out their schedules. Jan noticed there was no longer any mention of Major Resmel.
“Major Resmel is not on the list, Doctor.”
“No, Nurse. The Major is considered fit enough to be transported to a POW camp. Tomorrow morning, an interrogation unit will be speaking with him, and the following day he will be transported. Your job with that Jerry’s done. There are others who came in at the same time who are also fit enough to be moved out. We need more space for our own chaps. They must come first. We need to concentrate on getting our own chaps up and running, especially with Monty’s final drive to push these Nazis out of Africa.”
“Yes, Doctor.”
The choke in her voice betrayed her feelings. The D
octor asked her to remain a little longer after the other nurses had been dismissed, and then, after taking an inordinately long time to place his pencil in his top pocket, he turned his attention to the young woman beside him.
“Nurse Turner, you haven’t made the mistake to become emotionally involved with your patient, have you?”
“Doctor, it’s hard for you to understand.” The army doctor raised an eyebrow as his cheek muscles tightened and his mouth profile hardened.
“Nurse Turner,” he said firmly. “You know the rules. A soldier, any soldier, who is brought into this hospital, is here only as a patient. You have a duty to do and that is all. It goes for our chaps, too. Our job is to get our chaps back into their unit as soon as we can so that he can continue the fight against the enemy. That man . . . that German officer is the enemy. He has been fighting on the opposite side. Why, he’d probably have you shot and never blink an eye. Don’t let him soften your emotions towards him. They’re all Nazis.”
“No, that’s not true, Doctor. You see, he and I . . . ”
“Do not bow down to flattery, nurse. He’s just being over grateful. Realise, all men in this hospital never see a woman out in the field. It’s only natural they would try to chat you up. Why, even a married man like him.”
“He didn’t marry. He was only engaged.”
“There you are. Seems he’s been lying to you, nurse. According to our records . . . ”
She did not let him finish, such was her agitation. Jan pushed back her glasses, her eyes blazing and tearful.
“You’re wrong! Caroline died!”
The Doctor was beginning to become exasperated with his nurse. She did not seem to be listening to him. He walked a few feet towards the filing cabinet, opened the file drawer and removed the patient’s file.
“He is a married man. Look!” He handed it over for her to read. “There! I’m sorry.” His voice was lower and quieter. “It says, his wife’s name is Elisabeth. They have a son and they live in Neubrandenburg.”
Jan read the intelligence report which was a requirement for every soldier taken prisoner by the 8th Army. She let out a stifled gasp and let the card slip out of her hands. She felt as if a bullet had found its mark and wounded her heart. She fought back her tears as she backed away from the doctor, infuriated that he had just destroyed her happiness and flushed with anger against Hans for having betrayed her. The next instant she ran blinded and disillusioned over to the tent that contained the Wehrmacht Major.
“Hans Resmel, how could you!” Jan did not care who heard her. “You’re a liar and a damn cheat!”
Hans was taken aback by such an outburst. He sat upright, unsure of what to do next. The guard turned to intervene but the Major held out his hand to stop him.
“I’m sorry. I do not know what you mean.”
“Shut up! You’re all the same!”
Something had made her terribly upset but he had no idea why she should have called him a cheat. Again, the guard made a move towards the irate nurse. Again, the Major motioned him to remain at his post.
“Tell me what I am supposed to have done. Why are you so angry with me?”
Jan took off her glasses. She gave the lenses a deliberate wipe with the edge of her pinafore. Then she replaced them and adjusted them several times before screaming directly into his face.
“You didn’t tell me you had a wife!”
She continued to glare at him, her eyes flashing like exploding flares.
“I assumed you knew.” he was as calm as she was wild. “Besides, you never asked.”
Jan’s face contorted. She spat out a single word. It hissed like a snake.
“Elisabeth!”
“I thought you’d know that already from my admission file. I didn’t give it a thought.”
“You expect me to swallow that weak excuse, do you?” She clamped her hands on her hips and swivelled around. “You’re all the same.” She flicked her hands into the air. “Men! I wish I’d never met you again!”
With those words and with that tantrum, she threw him the letter he had written for her before, and stormed out of the ward. He sat there, his knees pulled up towards his chest, stunned by her outburst. The soldier who had remained on guard spoke for the first time.
“The nurse, tha’ one don’t ‘alf take a fancy t’ you . . . an’ you bein’ a Jerry ‘n’ all. I thought there was sumfin’ goin’ on between you but I never realised the lady was so crazy on you.”
“Crazy on me? What on earth are you talking about, Private?”
“She’s been lookin’ after you all these weeks ‘n’ it looks plain as day she’s in love wi’ you. All against them rules but she bein’ a woman ‘n’ you a man.”
Hans was stunned for the second time. How could he have been so stupid, so blind? He had never thought of Jan Turner as having all the usual emotions of a young woman. He thought she was always reserved with a detached coolness towards all men. He had only ever thought of them only being friends. Their meetings together in these strange circumstances had only cemented their friendship, that was all. His mind was perplexed by the idea of Jan expecting anything other than friendship. He questioned the guard further.
“You heard her scream ‘I hate you,’ when she went out, didn’t you?”
“ ‘ate, love . . . it’s one ‘n’ the same, ain’t it? Women love you one minute ‘n’ the next they’re tellin’ you they ‘ate you. That’s a women. She don’t mean it . . . jus’ upset, that’s all.”
“Damn this war!”
“So, sir. Was jus’ saying. Take my misses . . . .”
Hans had given up listening to the soldier, He was angry with himself and frustrated with everything. If only he had known how she felt. Tomorrow would be too late for him to explain the circumstances of his marriage to Elisabeth, a woman he had not found the time to love but who, through duty, together with threats from those who held high office, had become his wife and a mother to his child. If only he had been able to have read the signs but then concerning the affairs and affections of women, he was still very naïve. He understood his men. He understood the decisions of command and he understood why his brother, Renard, had supported the Party but he did not understand women and he most certainly did not understand Jan Turner. And now there was no opportunity to explain. He may never see Jan again. Ever.