Opposite Sides

by Susan Firman

CHAPTER 20

  Camp

  Early the following morning, as soon as the sun exploded over the sandy landscape, those prisoners from the military hospital considered well enough to travel were herded together and loaded into army transport trucks. There was no room spare for anything or anyone else For the fitter prisoners who had been captured during the past three days, there was a long march ahead to the nearest holding camp. A long, straggling column of demoralised men, six hundred of them, set off across the unforgiving arid North African terrain together with several land rovers, supply trucks and twenty armed guards. Progress was slow and every few hours a rest period was called during which the men sank down to the ground, seeking what shade they could find behind a rock or under one of the few scraggy trees that grew out of rock crevices. Each man was given just enough water to quench his thirst or soothe his burning throat. The destination, they were told, was some eighty kilometres away, POW Holding Camp B638.

  Orders were given, that if a man collapsed on the way and could not be helped on to one of the vehicles or was too weak to endure the journey by stretcher, then, rather than leave the prisoner to suffer a slow death by dehydration, he was to be swiftly put out of his misery. It was a cruel world they were living in and there could be no thoughts of sentimentality. Life was raw and living was close to the edge of death.

  In the early morning, a bloated, burning yellow-orange sun slouched in the eastern sky and by mid-morning it’s searing sphere shimmered in the heat haze which hang oppressively above them, the incessant desert wind drying their lips until they were sore, cracked and bleeding. The column of exhausted men was ordered to rest. These men were the battle-hardened soldiers of the desert, yet even now, the searing oppressive heat of the early afternoon fed hungrily on their strength and lapped up their energy like a ravenous wolf so that every shaking fatigued limb could no longer offer any support. One by one, they dropped; haggard and exhausted, collapsing like rags to lie in an untidy array on the hot desert sand.

  “Get those bastards out of the sun, sergeant!” yelled one of the British officers. “We don’t want the Convention on our backs if we let ‘em die ‘ere like flies!”

  The guards pointed their machine guns at the prostrate bodies which began slowly rising out of the sand, like corpses out of their graves.

  “Get up! Get up! Move!”

  They crowded like over-heated sheep seeking the pitiful shade behind rocks or under what straggly trees that had managed to survive this parched place. There was no escape. The heat sucked the energy from a man like a spider sucks the life juices from its victims. Even the shadows here were dangerously hot.

  Finally on the third day, the twenty Allied soldiers and their six hundred prisoners made it to the camp, a conglomeration of huts and tents within the confines of an ancient fort. The prisoners were ordered into rows of fifty to wait for the Camp Commander to make his appearance.

  “Welcome, gentlemen, to POW Holding Camp B638. What officers are there in your ranks? Fall out and assemble over by the flag pole.”

  An American gave the translation and indicated to the guards that the separation of ranks should take place. Slowly, order was regained and the captured officers stood waiting some distance from the main body of men. The American addressed them in German.

  “Who are the senior officers here? Hauptmanns . . . Captains?” Three moved forward and waited. “Majors?” Hans moved away from his fellow officers and stood with the three captains. “Have we got a General in our midst?” The heads turned round first to the right and then the left, but no senior officer came forward. “OK. So, it’s one Major and three Captains. Good. Attention! Now, quick march and follow my sergeant.”

  They were led to one of the standing huts. One of the guards pushed Hans with the barrel point of his gun into the hut interior and indicated that he should remove his hat. The American followed. Inside, seated behind a table, was the Commander. He had not bothered to look at the man standing before him but shuffled several pages of a file, then dipped his pen into the inkwell ready for writing. He spoke to the American but still did not raise his eyes.

  “Ask the prisoner what his name is.”

  The American turned to the prisoner.

  “Ihr Name?”

  “Erwin Hans Resmel.”

  The Commander ignored the prisoner and addressed the interpreter again.

  “Ask him when and where he was born?”

  “Wo und wann sind Sie geboren, Major?”

  “Freilassing, Bavaria. Nineteen hundred and eight.”

  The Commander’s head shot up in astonishment and his eyes immediately latched on to Hans. He stood and saluted. Hans put on his own hat and returned a military salute.

  “Major.”

  “Commander.”

  “You speak some English, then?”

  The Commander sat.

  “Sufficient,” answered Hans curtly.

  He realised that that piece of information so far was lacking. He thought it best at this point not to divulge the exact extent of his knowledge. He knew the line of questioning that would now take place. He had done this, himself, on countless occasions and was well aware of how an innocent question would be used to trap the unwary into saying too much.

  The Commander spoke directly to Hans.

  “Where were you captured?”

  “Near the Marath Line.”

  “And the nature of your capture?”

  “For the welfare of those remaining, it was decided to surrender. We were low on supplies. Further resistance would have been futile.”

  “What unit were you in?”

  “Light armoured division.”

  “How many men were in your division?”

  “To begin with, two hundred. At the time of capture, fifty four.”

  “How many wanted to continue the fight?”

  “I didn’t ask them. The men had a duty. They did it until the order was given to stop.”

  “And what were the orders you had been given prior to the surrender, Major?”

  “You will have to ask a General that, Commander. I have no comment.”

  The questioning went further as the Commander tried to assess the battle situation and obtain any information regarding troop movements and supplies of the remaining Afrika Korps. But Hans knew all the interrogation tricks and was on his guard not to divulge any information that may be of advantage to the enemy.

  The Commander noted that the man standing before him was an Abwehr officer. There had been reports of several men from the Abwehr having arrived at night by a U-Boot. This man could have been one of them and had been responsible for leading one of the small groups which were known to play havoc behind their lines. He considered it his duty to ask why it was that his prisoner had been in North Africa.

  “I fought because it was my duty. Like yours. My last duty is for my men. I only ask that they are treated correctly in accordance with the Geneva Convention.”

  “I understand, Major. But I need to know if you were one of those who arrived by submarine?”

  “No. I came here through normal routes. By plane. And I have been in North Africa some time,”

  “I see.” The Commander appeared to be satisfied but Hans knew that he would not be completely satisfied until every little bit of information had been verified. The Commander leaned slightly forward as one does over the dinner table. “Your English is very good, Major. Where did you learn it?”

  “At school.”

  Hans offered no further information. So far the interview had been very polite and had not caused any problems. Even though Hans had deliberately kept his sentences short, The Commander had heard enough for him to realise that this Major probably understood more than he was letting on. The British Commander decided to press his prisoner on several delicate tactical matters.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” answered Hans. “I’m not at liberty to tell you any more. The Geneva Convention states that . . . ”

  “Yes, Maj
or. I am aware of the agreements in the Convention. And you Germans don’t need to keep trying to quote it to us.”

  The Commander returned to the matter of filling in the forms. He was required to make a personal record for each prisoner, together with fingerprinting, serial numbers and information concerning the capture.

  “Your identification number, Major?”

  When the officialties had been completed, the Commander returned his pen to the inkwell and pressed a sheet of well-marked blotting paper over the ink-wet form.

  “You will now be taken and fingerprinted, Major.” He gave a short laugh. “But you would know that already and know that that will complete your processing. Your prisoner number is 81G/8624. You must understand that conditions will be difficult for some time as we have many prisoners to deal with.”

  The Commander addressed the American soldier again.

  “Have you got those other officers ready for me?”

  “Yes sir. They are waiting outside.”

  “Any from your division, Major?”

  The Major shook his head.

  “We were in a different area. My own men did not come here with me.”

  “Why was that?”

  “I was wounded.”

  “Ah, yes.” The Commander glanced at the file. “You spent several weeks in a military hospital.”

  “That is correct, Commander.”

  “Thank you, Major.” He addressed the American who had been standing easy just behind Hans. “Take him away. I will speak with the Major again but later.

  The Commander stood and returned the salute the Major had given. Resmel left the building under guard. He heard that on May 13 1943, the Axis forces surrendered totally to General Montgomery. The battle for North Africa was over.

  On July 10th, the Anglo-American landings in Sicily took place and by the beginning of September, they had made footfall on the beaches of Southern Italy. It was the end of Italian resistance and within a week, it was announced that an armistice had been agreed between Italy and the Allied powers. With the Italians now out of the fighting, the way was open for a back-door invasion force into Austria and ultimately into Southern Germany. This news paralleled the news concerning the eastern front, where in July, Hitler had hurled his remaining army into a savage battle west of Kursk only to have his divisions splintered and pushed back towards the Polish and Rumanian frontiers.

  At first, Hans was not sure whether this latest information had been told to the prisoners in order to break their moral or whether the tide had, in fact, started to turn.

  Was the shine of Hitler’s Third Reich beginning to tarnish and was his dream for world domination starting to crumble? It was beginning to look as though soon only ruins would be left, spreading across Europe from east to west and from south to north. The younger and lower ranked soldiers guarding the prisoners liked to taunt their captives with chants of ‘Berlin or bust’ and sing to them a rude ditty or two about Hitler and his cohorts but most of the time it went over the head of the normal German soldier who spoke only a few English words he had picked up during his time in the desert. There was a handful of short-tempered men who did understand the sentiment of the ditty and fought back, but they inevitably spent punishment time in confinement. Most of the prisoners, however, were subdued and quiet, making sure they followed camp discipline to the letter.

  Hans often sat alone on one of the large stones which had toppled, during some earlier time, off one of the inner walls which had been built when the fort was much younger. He watched the others wander aimlessly about the small confines, noting the frequency in which several small groups of men gathered at a point not far from where he liked to sit. These men seemed angry and restless, especially after one of the news session moments when all prisoners were forced to stand in the heat and listen to tales of how the German fronts were being squeezed like a lemon on every side. These men were not ready to give up the fight and although they did not not understand what their captors were saying, they interpreted the messages through the actions and emotions of those whose job it was to guard them. Every few days or so tempers would erupt and fist fights would break out as frustration levels rose in men who had only known the action of war and the constant fight for survival.

  On this account, the Commander had had a gutsful. He demanded audience with the Major in the hope that the problem could be sorted out quickly.

  “Major, as a senior officer, it is your duty to order your officers to keep your ranks in order. This openness of disobedience cannot be allowed to continue.”

  “I will speak to the men. One problem is the crowding here. There are too many of us and stories spread like disease, infecting the idle minds of men. The other problem concerns a lack of news from home.”

  “How so? What is the problem there?”

  “Mail has not been handed out for many months and with all the negative talk we hear of the European campaign, is it no wonder that some of my men are rather upset and liable to hit out? They have become frustrated with nothing else to think about. I will talk with my officers but you, in turn, must tell your own men to stop their harassment. We may have lost the battle but we haven’t lost the war. Yet.”

  The Commander listened politely as such senior ranks were apt to do. He wrote a few notes and read back what he had written giving details about the lack of mail.

  “Hopefully, that should see a distribution mail in time for Christmas. With Red Cross parcels. Remind your men: only good behaviour brings rewards. Thank you, Major.”

  The two officers saluted each other: one with his hand against the side of his head, the other with index finger touching the front.

  Hans wondered how it was for Jan when she found herself in a similar situation. Strange, how things had turned out for her; being a prisoner one minute, and then as events had changed, being freed again to carry on as if nothing had happened in the interval. Yet he felt that much had happened during that interval which had been the catalyst to initiate change in both of them. And then, meeting up again like that, in a field hospital, both so far away from their homeland and to be thrust upon each other in the desert land, two people who were only now discovering that they had need of each other. And what was it, that soldier had said to him at the field hospital: ‘it looks plain as day she’s in love with you.’ Why, why didn’t he see that sooner?

  The Commander was as good as his word, for as soon as he noticed that normal military discipline had been restored, he allowed the distribution of the long-awaited mail. Hans, too, was eager for news from home; he had heard nothing from either Elisabeth nor his uncle for more. than six months. His spirits rose as he was handed several letters and as he turned the envelopes over in his hands, he noticed that at least one had been opened, and then resealed. He smiled to himself, as it reminded him of the earlier times he, too, had looked into prisoners’ mail for that little piece of information that might give some hint to a less innocent meaning.

  He tore open Elisabeth’s letter first, wishful to read the news of the small son he had never seen, positioning himself on the outside of the tent and standing in what shade it offered. There were several of them who had chosen this spot to read and although they had little room between them, each man became submerged in his own reading and thoughts just as if there had been a vast landscape separating them.

  Elisabeth began:

  Mein sehr lieber Erwin,

  There has been so much happening . . .

  She told him about a group for officers’ wives she regularly went to and how busy her life was as the mother of their child. He skipped quickly through those sentences.

  Little Siegfried has just had his first birthday and he was so lucky to have his so many nice presents. One would hardly think there was a war. Papa always finds plenty for us to eat so do not worry about us here. Just look after yourself, my dear, dear husband.

  Renard came and called on us . . .

  Hans had not heard anything about his older b
rother since he had offered to take Hans to France to show him where his submarine was docked. Renard was proud of the submarine pens that had been built and made the comment that with all the thick concrete overhead, they would offer absolute protection against any air-raid that may occur. Hans never did get to France. His superiors had other plans for him at the time and since he had been in North Africa there was little chance to see what excited his brother so.

  He is serving on a new boat +++++++ with Oberleutnant Emde, their capitan.

  I took our little with me when I went to the De+++++++ M++++++ and they thought him the most beautiful baby they had ever seen. Papa comments on his beautiful blue eyes and says that with such blue eyes he is certain Siege will become ++++++++++++++++++ like his own Papa.

  I met Frau B. . . the other day. You remember. Her husband holds a very high position in +++++++++++++ and has even personally been invited to dine with +++++++++++ so I feel I should invite Frau B . . .

  He re-read that part of Elizabeth’s letter and wondered what they would have in common when the war did finally come to an end. His and Elisabeth’s worlds were so far apart and now that he had been captured, things likely remain that way for some time yet. He was uneasy about how he would cope with those who had no knowledge outside the propaganda arena of Dr Goebbles and who, like Renard, remained supportive of the Führer and what he was doing to Germany.

  Hans had been able to share his concerns with other officers who were also uneasy. The conversation usually began with a discussion concerning the suspicion and fear one neighbour had of the other, the shortages and rationing of food as well as supplies and the probability of Germany losing the war and falling back into the terrible anarchy of the early twenties. Surely this was not what they were fighting for? And yet there appeared to be no end to it, not while Hitler was in charge.

  Hans was reminded of the horror he had seen on the battle field and of the cruel things that took place in war. He had witnessed the futility, the killing and the destruction that had been inflicted on soldier and civilian alike. There had been those quiet, waiting times when there had been a lull and during which he could begin weighing up the consequences of the driving forces that lay behind a war-driven economy. It was becoming more apparent to Hans that those men who had been responsible for taking Germany into the war, were either insane, or had been totally taken over by their own importance and their greed for power. But to do something to change the course was extremely dangerous.

  Elisabeth made no reference to any withdrawals. She still wrote of Hitler being on a winning streak and how Germany would ultimately win the war. He guessed the propaganda output had increased and that the Nazi war machine was using every means it could conjure up to continue to deceive and hoodwink its population. What did she know about war? Elisabeth was protected from the evil truth of war, for her father had always been an ardent Nazi supporter. Hitler’s rise to power was the reason why his business had done so well. Elisabeth’s family had been able to live a life of privilege and new-found luxury, in an inner circle free from the hunger and cold experienced by the rest of the people as the rationing squeezed their empty bellies tighter and made their houses colder. Elizabeth’s father had become one of the Reich’s new rich and life under Nazi rule had made his, and his family’s, life extremely comfortable.

  Papa’s been extremely busy and has had to attend a lot of meetings. We rarely see him now but I know it is a sacrifice I have to make. Our Führer expects +++++++++++++++++ bit for the++++++++++++++++ Fatherland.

  Hans noted that various parts of Elizabeth’s letter had been struck out. It must have contained some kind of sensitive information for it to have been censored. A wispy smile passed his lips. He had done the same sort of thing when letters arrived for the British or American prisoners. Sensitive information to be selected out. He continued with his reading:

  I miss you very much, my dear husband but I know that your duty is to serve our Reich in distant lands. I hope that all is well with you when you receive this letter and that soon you will get leave again and be able to hold our son close to your heart.

  Your most loving wife,

  Elizabeth.

  Hans felt sorry for his wife. What was in store for her when the reality of the war hit? What was worse was that he realised that he had neither missed her company, nor given her much thought. In a way, he wished that he had never met Ott. But Renard was to blame for that. Renard had brought Ott to his uncle’s house and it was Ott who had connections to Elisabeth’s family. Hans was annoyed with himself to think so easily manipulated by that group of ardent Nazi supporters. They really did believe in this war and Hitler’s constant push to see the creation of a thousand-year Reich. Yes, even poor Elizabeth believed in that. What a shock it will be for them when the Allied net tightens and the Reich begins to crumble.

  Commander Brownless decided to make use of Major Resmel’s good knowledge of English. Facilities were stretched and translators were very few. It was necessary that prisoners were processed as soon as possible so that they could be sorted and transported to more permanent camps overseas. The job of separating officers from lower ranks and ordinary fighting men from ardent Nazis took many weeks and many hours of interrogation. The Major would have a job to do until the last man of the Afrika Korps had been questioned. As processed prisoners were trucked off to a port to be shipped across the Atlantic, Major Resmel, prisoner 81G-8624 remained behind.

  One afternoon, after a busy morning, Commander Brownless made a special trip over to the interrogation tent to speak with prisoner 81G -8624.

  “You may have time away from your task, Major. There is someone who has been making enquiries and wishes to speak with you. Report immediately to the main area.”

  Hans was puzzled. Still, he obeyed and made his way over to the main tent where he was told to wait until called.

  “You can go in, now.”

  The puzzled look on the guard’s face was enough to tell Hans that even this soldier was curious to know what was going on, and why this German prisoner should have been sent for. But the guard had to remain outside. As the Major entered the tent and let the side flap flop forwards behind him, the soldier placed his rifle over his shoulder and stood to attention.

  Two figures were in the tent. The light inside was too dim for Hans to see exactly who they were. One, a sergeant, stepped forward. He saluted the senior officer. He spoke.

  “Major Resmel. I ‘ave ‘ere, with me, a nurse who says she knows you. Nursed you when you were in our military ‘ospital a few months ago.”

  “Would that be Nurse Turner?”

  “Yes, Major.”

  Hans was bewildered and confused. Why had Jan taken the trouble to find him?

  “She says it’s taken some time to trace you after you left the ‘ospital but this young woman, ‘ere, ‘as put in a formal request to speak with you.” He turned slightly in the direction of the nurse and waved for her to join them. “I’ll be outside, Corporal. Let me know when you’re done.”

  He saluted again and left the tent. Hans remained standing, shaking his head with disbelief. Jan adjusted her glasses and straightened her skirt before speaking.

  ‘Sorry for last time, Hans.” She laughed a little nervous laugh. “We’re always apologising to each each other, aren’t we?” He nodded. “I felt awful about things, really. I just had to find you to straighten things out. Even Aunt would be angry with me if I left things as they were. Especially having bumped in to you a second time.”

  “I’ll accept that.” He indicated that they should move to the rear of the tent, away from any eavesdropping ears. “But, Jan, you must have had other reasons. You would not have gone to all these lengths, or travelled so far, just to say sorry, Hans.”

  “Well, no.”

  She cleared her throat and re-adjusted her glasses. He knew she felt uneasy, for that little habit of hers always betrayed her inner feelings. He broke the awkward silence for her.

&nbs
p; “Why don’t we sit? It’s much more comfortable.” He moved over to one of the light wooden chairs and handed it to her before picking up another for himself. “It’s good to see you, Jan. Really. I’m just overwhelmed that you’ve gone to all this trouble. Just to say goodbye.”

  Jan shoved her glasses back again. He knew that she felt upset about something. He waited for her to gain control of herself.

  “I . . . I didn’t know you were married, again. I guess she’s very attractive . . . or something.” It sounded awkward and he was not too sure he heard her correctly.

  “You’re meaning Elisabeth?” Jan gave a small sniff and quickly nodded. Hans felt he had to explain. “Elisabeth and I really hardly know each other. We had a month together before I was sent out here. I’ve come to realise that I have little in common with her or with her family, for that matter. She is a good wife but I do not think she is the woman for me. Our views on politics and the war do not agree. Her father wanted her to marry someone with a good rank. Renard, and you know about that brother of mine, has an acquaintance who knows Elisabeth’s father . . . and there not being many men who could fit the bill, as one might say, and I was singled out. Call it duty.”

  “You mean you didn’t love her when you married?” He shrugged his shoulders. She flicked her head backwards. “And you still married her?” He nodded. Jan reeled almost with bated breadth at the thought but it was Hans’ reaction that surprised her most. He threw back his head and laughed.

  “Duty, Jan.”

  “Duty?” her voice was full of anger. “Is that all you can say?”

  “The world has changed, Jan. Caroline was my sweetheart. I loved her and I still feel the hurt of losing her whenever I think of her. With Elizabeth it was a case of . . . .”

  “Of what?” Her eyes blazed behind her lenses.

  “A marriage of . . .” He took a deep breath. He did not know how she would react. “convenience.”

  “For whom?” He felt her pressure, her need for knowing and yet he hesitated to give her an answer which would satisfy. He was not surprised when she pressed him further. “How about me? I mean, what am I to you . . . if anything at all?”

  He noticed there were small tears forming in the corners of her eyes and the corners of her mouth had begun to twitch.

  “I’m not sure how I think of you. I became very fond of you when I was in the military hospital. I think we both felt there was a connection so in that way you’ve become special.” He felt awkward, not knowing what to say for he realised that anything more between them could not be. He was married. He had a wife. He would remain married to Elisabeth until the end. That is how the marriage contract worked for him. And it was for a lifetime. His faith had taught him that. Jan could not be part of his life in the way she was hoping. Besides, this awful war would keep them apart on opposing sides until it ended, whenever that was to be. He reached out and touched her arm. “We’ve known each other for so long now, Jan. Been through so much, haven’t we?”

  “Yes, I realise that. We are definitely not enemies!”

  “No.” Hans shuffled his feet and sat looking at them scuffing the floorboards. “I don’t think we’ve ever been real enemies, Jan. Even as teenagers. Just misunderstood each other, that’s all.”

  “Like I am misunderstanding you now?”

  “In the kind of relationship you are dreaming of, Jan, yes. It can only be a dream. We are serving on opposite sides and you may be in the English forces but you are still not my enemy.”

  “Then I suppose I’m a friend, then?”

  “Exactly. A very good one.”

  “Is that all? Just a friend?”

  “I said a very good one. A special friend. We come together in a hostile situation yet I like and respect you. I hope you feel that way, too.”

  “I do but I came here to say far more.” She held out her hand towards him but he did not react. “I’ve got to tell you. It may be the last chance I have.”

  “Well?” His eyes narrowed and at the same time his brows came together. It was a puzzled expression for he had no inkling what Jan was wanting to say.

  She cleared her throat awkwardly and then drew in a breath to clm herself.

  “I have always thought of you as just Hans. Still do, in spite of that uniform you’re wearing. You’ve always been just you.” She drew in a soft breath and her breast heaved up, then down with a slow drawn-out sigh. “I’ve more than liked you for a very long time, Hans. Did you know that?” Her face flushed and she smoothed down her grey skirt in the hope of steadying her hands.

  “Really?” The idea amused him. He an officer in the German army and she, a British nurse. But then, they weren’t the crazy ones; just the world they were living in.

  ‘I’ve heard from my aunt,” she suddenly said throwing back her head as if shaking out all the memories.

  “And?”

  “A bomb landed near her house a week ago. At night. She wrote that it shook the whole house. Scared her and Andrea so much they could not sleep.”

  His interest keened when he heard the mention of his daughter’s name. He had almost forgotten she was growing up to be an English girl; and in the same house as Miss Turner. He laughed again but this time it carried a tone of absurdity with it.

  “Don’t they have shelters, then?”

  “Of course but it’s too far away for poor aunty to get to with her walking stick. She is an old lady now. Andrea wouldn’t leave without her. They never had an Anderson shelter put in the back garden. Aunt said she was not sleeping in a tin can. You know Aunt. She can be awfully stubborn at times. Says no-body, especially Hitler’s bombs, is going to drive her out of her home.”

  Hans had to smile. He could picture the elderly Miss Turner shaking her stick in the air and scolding the Luftwaffe pilots for venturing in to her space. He saw the bomb fall and shuddered at the thought of them, alone in the middle of the air-raid. He had seen the utter destruction the bombs were capable of doing.

  “Wahnsinn! Sheer madness! My daughter . . . being terrorised by bombs from the country her own father’s fighting for. It’s crazy! Are we also deranged, Jan?”

  “No. I don’t think so. We’re caught up in it and what choice did either of us have once war began?”

  “Very little. In Germany, it was call-up and obey. Obey or be shot. If you were somebody in the party, then you could get into an office or something similar. But not for the majority. I guess you could call me a coward but at the time I didn’t fancy being stuck up against a brick wall in front of a firing squad.”

  “Couldn’t you have been a conscientious objector? Ours have ended up behind bars but at least they stood by their convictions.”

  Hans laughed satirically as he remembered some of the things he had noticed when he was in Berlin.

  “Not in the Reich. Absolutely not. Anyone even remotely against the Nazis are removed. They disappear. One does not dare to object or to criticise. Doing one’s duty is expected. No, more than that. It is demanded!.”

  “I realise that, Hans. You’re no coward, either. You wouldn’t have been made a major if you had been.”

  He brushed the remark off with a flick of his hand and then looked earnestly at her.

  “I think you are braver. Not many women would go nursing under the conditions you have had to put up with, especially not out in North Africa. That requires real toughness. But I still say, war and the front lines are no place for a woman. Fighting’s a man’s job!”

  She looked quizzically at him. She held her torso upright and proud as she told him,

  “Not if your country’s in danger of invasion!”

  That defiant utterance had flummoxed him. He found he was at a loss as how to answer her. It was looking as though Corporal Nurse Jan Turner had won this battle and before he could gather his thoughts, any further conversation was interrupted by the return of the Sergeant. He reminded Nurse Turner that it was time to wrap up the meeting. He reminded her that the Major needed to r
eturn to his duty as one of the camp translators. Jan stood and indicated to him that she was ready to move.

  “I’ll be outside there, Corporal.”

  The man indicated the flap entrance by pointing. As he walked away, Jan moved closer and pressed a small piece of paper into Hans’ hand. He wrapped his fingers round the note and the hand that had offered it.

  “Here is where you can reach me. Please keep me informed, Hans. I do care very much about what happens to you. I just wish circumstances were different.” Her voice faltered and a tear trickled down the side of her cheek. “I would have liked to have hoped. . . .” She withdrew her hand and clenched her fingers together. “I wish you weren’t married!”

  “You’ll find someone,” he said. He had not realised Jan had desired to marry. She had always appeared to him to be someone who preferred to follow a career rather than have a family. But then he remembered what Miss Turner had told him about herself. “You still have time, Jan. When this is all over, someone will be there.” He tried to sound encouraging.

  “No, they won’t!” She was very adamant. She looked him full in the face. Her bottom lip quivered. “I’ll never marry, now. This bloody war’s killing off too many of our young men. Besides . . .” She knew the moment had come when she had to divulge her true feelings for him. She moved close and, with tear-filled eyes, whispered into his ear. “It is you I love, Hans Resmel.” She stepped back and looked at him like a chastised child. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I shouldn’t have said that but it’s true. Oh, Hans, I wasn’t sure at first but . . . I have these feelings and I can’t help myself. There, I’ve said it. It’s not new. I do not want to marry anyone else. So, you see I was angry and hurt when I found out you had married.”

  “I’m so . . . s, sorry,” he stammered, taken aback. “I . . . I never realised.”

  “Do you remember that song we all used to sing: ‘Together’? You’re gone from me but in my memory we will always be together. Remember, Anne played it on her gramophone?”

  “That was a long time ago.”

  “In ’28.”

  “Good days. No hint of war.”

  “Well, I want to feel young like that again. I feel as if I’ve mislaid my youth and missed out. I’d like to find it. I want it before I am too old. I do not want to be like my aunt. I have longed for love for a long time and when the war started and I knew I could no longer hope for you, I had hoped that one nice young man would love me. But he war kept taking them away. I am a woman, Hans, and I have the same desires as any.”

  He watched the tears trickle onto the inside lenses of her glasses and drop off the bottom of her rims. Her hands were trembling as she tried to wipe away the sorrowful drops that betrayed her deep feelings. Hans was taken aback by her genuineness.

  “I never knew. Honestly, Jan, I never knew you felt like that!”

  He could feel the intensity of her emotions. He did not know how to answer this woman who had opened her heart to him. He could not reject her, nor did he wish to give her false hope. Yet he felt a tenderness for her he had never felt before. He thought of Caroline and the short whirlwind romance they had; the lust and excitement of youth. Their love had been cut short the day Andrea was born. The hurt was still with him. Could he re-kindle such feelings or had any feelings of love for a woman been extinguished when Caroline died? The feelings he had for Elisabeth were not the same. He could never grow to love Elisabeth in the way he loved Caroline even though she had provided him with a son. Their son was a product of the Reich. He was a child for Hitler and everything that marriage stood for in his Reich. And now there was Jan. Yes, there was definitely something that had been trying to draw them together for a very long time. But could he love her?

  He did not reply but cupped her hands in his, and then gently raised them to his lips, and kissed them.

  “We always seemed to be quarrelling. I assumed you hated me and wanted nothing to do with me.”

  “No! I just wanted you to take notice. It was so lonely growing up in that old house with my aunt. No brothers or sisters. Friends, too scared to come round. You saw how it was with my aunt. She ruled my life as she ruled over the school.”

  Jan had never spoken to him before like this and especially never in her teenage years. How miserable she must have been. Alone. Afraid to go against her aunt’s wishes.

  “When this is all over, when things are normal again, when Germany’s able to shake off this nightmare . . . ” He did not know how to say such things. “Jan, you know I could never marry you. Not while Elisabeth lives. Marriage is for ever until death. That is the law of my church. We have to hope . . .”

  “For what? For an end to this war? Or for Elisabeth to die? How long? How long do we have to wait?”

  “We wait for as long as it takes.” His words sounded empty and unconvincing even to himself. He knew he and Elisabeth had very little in common and that family life after the war would be a burden on both of them.

  Jan squeezed a smile and her hand automatically reached upwards to her glasses but she did not ajust them. Instead, she caressed a lock of hair that had crept across her moist cheek. She breathed in slowly and deeply.

  “When the war’s over,” she sighed, “I’ll bring Andrea to see you. I know I sound like a silly schoolgirl but I can’t help myself. I feel goosebumps every time you look at me.”

  He stepped forward and hugged her. He felt her arms around his own torso and for a moment they shared the embrace, sharing in the rhythmic movement of each shared breath, together with the shared realisation that they had both stepped through the curtain of hate into a chamber of love: their own Lebensraum. When they let their arms drop, they remained standing silently together.

  “You do have feelings for me,” she breathed. Can there be any hope?”

  He kissed her lightly on her forehead as one would kiss a dear child.

  “Hope is always good. It keeps us going. We will survive!”

  He swung slowly around on the heel of his boot and walked away from her. She stood watching him until he disappeared through the entrance flap of the tent and she was alone once more.