Of Knights and Dogfights

by Ellie Midwood

  “Nothing. I’m only trying to do my job and Leutnant Brandt here is obstructing my orders, Herr Hauptmann.”

  “He wants to take Henry with him!” Johann declared disgustedly even though his comrades had already caught onto that.

  “Also, we’re taking another crew chief, Meyer, and one of your pilots, Riedman,” Vetter proclaimed in the same calm voice after consulting his notes. “They’re both first-degree mischlinge and have no business in the Luftwaffe, just like this…” he threw a revolted glare at Henry, “…this specimen. We’re taking them all.”

  “Have you completely gone off your head?!” Vetter wasn’t, by any means, lacking in height but Leitner was still towering over him and judging by his menacing look, he wouldn’t think twice about using his fists if he needed. “You aren’t taking any of the men in my charge anywhere!”

  “I’m warning you, Hauptmann Leitner. You’re obstructing my orders—”

  “To hell with you and your orders!” Leitner’s voice turned into a veritable roar. “No one is going anywhere while I’m in command of this Staffel! And how dare you?! How dare you come here from some office in Berlin and spew your xenophobic propaganda when we have to bury our comrades daily, when we lose them to jaundice, malaria, dysentery – you name it – we all were sick with it; when every life of our men is precious as we’re outnumbered as it is compared to the Allied forces; how dare you to come here and hold some sort of selections like you’re picking out sheep at the market?! Those aren’t animals for you; those are my men and they will go nowhere – orders or no orders!”

  “So you’re refusing to hand them over, Herr Hauptmann?”

  “Damn right, I am!”

  “Fine. That will be duly recorded and immediate measures will be taken by the Main Office – the RSHA – in replacing you as the acting commander of this unit. You will be prosecuted by the People’s Court as a politically unreliable person and will most likely be stripped of your rank and title and sentenced to hard labor in Dachau – that’s if you’re lucky. If not, it is court-martial for you, Herr Hauptmann. Is that how you want it to be? Because of a couple of Jews and a Negro?”

  Leitner eyed him in dismay for an interminably long moment. A wicked grin started to form on Vetter’s face. Suddenly, Walter Riedman stepped from behind his comrades’ backs and turned to face his leader.

  “That’s all right, Herr Hauptmann. Don’t worry about me; I’ll go with them. Willi, I mean, Leutnant von Sielaff is returning soon anyway so you won’t lack any pilots.”

  He couldn’t see their faces, but Johann sensed how everyone’s heart sank at that soft and obedient smile of his, his Walt, a Luftwaffe ace, Iron Cross First Class, almost thirty victories…

  “Fine. If you’re taking Riedman, take me too.” The words tumbled out of his mouth before he knew exactly what he was saying.

  Now, it was two of them, Luftwaffe aces, standing in front of the SS. For the first time their leader hesitated, it seemed. Despite all the pretense and checking his notes to get Johann’s name right, he knew who Leutnant Brandt was. His photos were plastered all over Berlin newsstands, shaking hands with Reichsmarschall Göring, sharing a toast to victory with Feldmarschall Rommel… Unlike the rogue Berliner von Sielaff, Brandt was Germany’s sweetheart, blond, blue-eyed, smiling contagiously from every Luftwaffe poster from the cockpit of his Messerschmitt. For the first time, Vetter wasn’t so sure that bringing Germany’s sweetheart ace on charges, even though on Heydrich’s direct orders, would look good in his resume. They’d forgive him Riedman; Brandt was an entirely different case.

  “Make it three instead of one.” Leitner stepped forward as well, linking ranks with Johann and Walter.

  “Make it the whole Staffel, Herr Untersturmführer.” Another contemptuous jab followed as everyone joined in, face to face with the enemy. And here they thought that they were fighting the RAF. No; the RAF were fearsome opponents whom they loved to challenge but hated to see killed. They loved shooting down the aircraft but inwardly rejoiced each time a white parachute opened, bringing their British counterpart to safety. Teufel, this one was good! Good thing he survived; I sure would love to meet him again in a dogfight! That devil made me sweat; I swear! No; the enemy, the real, loathed enemy now stood before them.

  “And put a Feldmarschall on top.”

  Johann couldn’t believe his eyes as Rommel stood next to him, calm and collected, looking almost amused at Vetter’s suddenly paled face.

  “Put the whole Afrika Korps on your list.” Rommel’s adjutant stepped forward as well. “Because we will follow our Feldmarschall whenever he goes. To hell, if needed.”

  Mutiny, suddenly flashed in Johann’s mind and he grinned. The SS suddenly didn’t look so sure of themselves anymore.

  “I will report this.” Untersturmführer Vetter muttered before stalking away, his men following him close on his heels.

  Next to Johann, Walter cried silently. Behind Staffelkapitän Leitner’s back, the pilots were hugging Henry and each other. And among all that beautiful mayhem, Feldmarschall Rommel stood, a soft smile still glued to his handsome, kind face.

  Sixteen

  Berlin, February 1942

  * * *

  “Lotte, come quick! Someone’s asking for you at reception!” Mina’s enthusiasm came to an abrupt halt under a withering look from Erika, their former BDM leader.

  The animosity was still fresh between the three nurses, sharp like the stench of chlorine that had penetrated the walls of the hospital itself, it seemed, poisonous and acidic. It was only natural, such a relationship between an ardent supporter of National Socialism and two reluctant BDM members, who used to fulfill their German girls’ duties under her command with nothing more than a tepid tolerance.

  Erika, tall, broad-shouldered, sturdy – a perfect German woman – had sensed their resentment like a well-trained police hound when both girls were only fourteen; fresh faces in her unit. They sewed, sang the hymns and marched just fine and abided by the bare minimum that was demanded of them. Yet, Erika still sensed, deep in the pit of her stomach, a certain quality of roguishness in both, defiant silence where cheers should have been, averted eyes, full of disgust in place of adoration and many other similar instances which she would gladly report, yet had nothing concrete to grab onto, to put into words on paper.

  And just Erika’s misfortune, Charlotte who excelled in gymnastics, managed to get photographed for a BDM magazine (for which Erika got praised as her leader); and Wilhelmina had somehow caught the eye of some official from the Ministry of Propaganda and was given the undeserved honor of carrying the unit’s Standard along Unter Den Linden in front of Der Führer himself... It didn’t come as a surprise to Erika, a new local leader of the Nazi Women’s League, that the two had shed their BDM uniforms as soon as they turned eighteen and haughtily averted their arrogant noses each time Erika appealed, in vain, to their conscience as German women, to join the NS-Frauenschaft.

  Even now Wilhelmina stared at her with such mocking scorn in her wolfish, yellow eyes, as though laughing in her face without saying a word; you lost your power over us, evil witch. Erika looked almost enviously at her, such a delicate creature with nerves of steel underneath.

  “Wilhelm is leaving for the front. He came to say goodbye. And you’re excused for the rest of the day – Herr Doctor’s direct orders.”

  Placated with the explanation, even though the words had been spoken to Charlotte and not for her, Erika’s, benefit, Erika relaxed her tense stance a bit. Her Party loyalty triumphed, despite her personal dislike of the entire von Sielaff breed. When a soldier goes to war, a woman’s duty is to see him off.

  Smoothing her unruly curls with her hands, Charlotte excused herself from the ward and ran along the hospital’s hallway. Erika still regarded her taking her leave with a certain measure of disdain; it wasn’t as if Charlotte was his wife or fiancée; an accidental mistress at best, but if the Party line declared even such unions to be all right, who was sh
e to argue? Let him have his fun with her for the last time; perhaps, he’d father a child with the wench – a future soldier for the Reich.

  In the main hall of the hospital, near the staircase, Charlotte paused in her tracks, out of breath, tense with sudden emotion. Willi, and it was indeed him, couldn’t have been there for longer than a few minutes; yet, he already stood surrounded by a swarm of bright-eyed nurses after one of them had recognized the famous ace, Wilhelm von Sielaff, in him. The uniform suited him far better than hospital attire, if only it weren’t for the sad occasion for which he wore it. Cleared and announced fit for duty just two days ago, Willi, her Willi, was going back to the front first thing tomorrow morning. Lotte shoved her hands deep into her pockets as though in search of the needed strength not to break into tears in front of that cheerful assembly. He’s leaving for the front and they have the gall to laugh and joke with him. Oh, how she loathed them all at that moment!

  She understood them though. He stood among them, wonderfully handsome despite his intentionally bohemian flair, so admirably nonchalant in his stance and manner, with his much-too-long hair that always fell onto one eye, with sunglasses carelessly tucked into a breast pocket of his jacket. What a terrible flirt, damn him! So used to being adored... And Mina had warned her about her brother, the known ladies’ man; she told her to just ask whatever she wanted about the damned planes (why are you even so fascinated with them?) and leave him to his devices as he was a no-good, spoiled brat and if he wasn’t her brother, she wouldn’t come near him and so on and so forth… Lotte didn’t listen. Lotte fell in love with him before she even met him in person.

  But then he noticed her through all that dense crowd around him and broke into that special smile that Lotte only saw on his face when he looked at her – a bit timid and endlessly tender – and Charlotte’s thoughts melted at once as if touched by the sun itself. He quickly finished signing whatever magazines and napkins were put before him, excused himself and went up to her to plant a kiss on her cheek – to hell with spectators! – before proclaiming loudly and without any reservations, “my beautiful, beautiful Lotte! I missed you so much!”

  “Have you come to say goodbye?”

  “No. I have come to kidnap you.” He handed her her coat and was already leading Charlotte by the hand while she was trying to protest half-heartedly.

  “Don’t worry about your supervisor,” Willi reassured her at once. “It’s all settled!”

  The day was alive with a transparent crispness in the air. Unmarred by clouds, the sky domed above them resolutely blue and windless, like a painting by Monet. After a short trek across the street, Charlotte paused and hesitated at the sight of a Mercedes with two red flags above its headlights. Willi was already holding the door open for her.

  “Whose car is that?”

  “My father’s. Don’t worry, he has no use for it now.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Quite. From what I last heard, his latest means of transportation is a horse as everything else gets either frozen or bogged down on the Eastern Front.”

  “Willi, you shouldn’t be joking about that. He’s risking his life there…”

  Willi only waved her off impatiently. “He’s not risking anything. Sitting it out in some communist big-shot’s villa, far behind enemy lines is more like it. Besides, only the good die young. That son of a bitch will outlive me – you’ll see.”

  Charlotte gazed at him with reproach. “Don’t say such things.” Joking about death when the mere thought of you going back to that hell tears my heart in shreds.

  Willi, recognizing the silent despair, so carefully concealed in those steely-gray eyes, instantly felt guilty and tried to laugh, half-ashamed, half-embarrassed. He was suddenly aware that she was afraid for him, genuinely and gravely afraid and this thought flattered and terrified him all at once. It wasn’t simple infatuation from her side; nor was it the desire to possess him. No, it was something much more meaningful and abysmal, for which he used to tease Mina unmercifully when he’d just recognized that miserable expression on her flushed face each time she’d steal a glance in Johann’s direction – just a friend, back then; her brother’s roommate.

  None of his victories saw him off to the front as Mina saw off Johann. They wrapped their arms around him, sweet and strangling, and grinned gloatingly at the crowd outside as though he were a fashionable accessory. Only in Lotte’s eyes, there was now the same tragedy, invariably etched into the features of every woman who is mortally afraid that these could quite possibly be the last hours that she saw her man alive. He turned away, trembling with his entire body, almost wishing that she wouldn’t look at him this way.

  “Where are you taking me?” she asked, feigning curiosity. It didn’t matter one bit to her, where. Just to sit next to him for a few more moments.

  “It’s a surprise.”

  He started talking about something utterly irrelevant which neither of them would recall the next day. Charlotte was watching Willi babble away as they sped along the streets, imprinting his features in her memory while she could. She had the photos that he gave her, of course, along with all of those papers and magazines that she was collecting even before meeting him in person. But how could even the best quality portrait replace the sound of his voice, the mischievous squint of his eyes, that gesture with which he’d swipe the bangs off of his face? Charlotte dug her nails into her arm not to break into tears and ruin their last day together.

  They slowed down and eventually came to a halt near a roadblock on the city outskirts. Along with his identification, Willi produced some papers which a sentry, minding the post, perused with apparent interest. He walked away still holding it in his hand and returned not even a minute later.

  “Have a good day, Leutnant von Sielaff. Heil Hitler.”

  Mumbling something resembling an English Hi instead of the prescribed Heil, Willi quickly sped off, eventually making his way onto an open airfield.

  “What is it?” Charlotte inquired, thoroughly confused.

  “I promised to give you a ride in a plane, didn’t I?”

  While Charlotte was still recovering from such an announcement, Willi had already parked the car in front of a controller’s post and ran around it to hold the door for her. Quickly kissing both of her hands – wait here! – he ran inside the post and soon reappeared with the broadest grin on his face and holding two parachutes in his hand.

  “We’re all good to go! See that fighter over there? The furthest one to the end? It’s ours!”

  As though moving in a dream, Charlotte ran after him towards the aircraft, neatly lined up and numbered in succession. Despite her fascination with planes after her father took her and her brothers to see an air show near Berlin, Charlotte knew better than hoping to even get close to one of these formidable machines one day. The road into the Air Force was strictly forbidden for women and reading about Luftwaffe aces’ heroic deeds in the magazines was as close as she could get to experiencing at least some semblance of the excitement a person must feel in the sky.

  “This is real,” she whispered in awed delight, touching the steel of the fighter with feverish reverence. “Is this really happening, Willi?”

  He watched her reaction as though under a spell, the most profound conviction growing in his darkening eyes. Yes. She is the one. She feels the world the same way I do; she breathes freedom into it, the spirited, wild creature...

  “You’ll have to climb on top of that wing to get inside.” He helped her into her parachute, carefully checking every strap like he never did with his own. With growing wonder, he had just noticed that her eyes were the same glittering gray as the Messerschmitt’s steel. Was that why he had fallen in love with her so easily?

  “That’s all right. I told you that I was on the gymnastics team in the BDM. I can climb anything if needed.”

  “That’s my girl!”

  Charlotte grabbed onto the polished steel and quickly pulled herself on top of the wing, lau
ghing and adjusting her skirt after it had hiked up to a most inappropriate height. Following her, after a short struggle with his parachute, Willi scrambled on top of the wing and slid the canopy open.

  “You’ll sit in the back and me – in the front; unless you’d like to fly it yourself, Fräulein Rottenführerin.”

  She was grateful for the timely joke as, despite her exhilarated state, Charlotte was still a bit nervous. She watched Willi adjust all the belt straps on her chest and stomach with intense attention and then smiled at him bravely, at ease. After all, who could she trust better if not one of the most celebrated aces in the whole of the Luftwaffe?

  Willi closed the canopy and started his takeoff roll after clearing it with the controller over the R/T. As soon as he began to gain speed along the airstrip, Charlotte clutched onto the back of his seat, her eyes wide open in delight. Her breath caught in her throat as they tore off the ground and started to gain altitude – free and weightless like the wind beyond the canopy.

  “You all right?” Willi asked over the radio.

  “Yes! I’ve never been better!”

  It wasn’t a lie. Never before had she felt so positively ecstatic, drunk on the sky and the speed, screaming, “faster, higher!” as her eyes were busy taking in the ground below them growing smaller with each passing second.

  “What, not exciting enough for you?” Willi’s voice teased her over the R/T. “How about some aerobatics then?”

  Before she knew what was happening, Willi turned onto his back and went into a steep dive, sending Charlotte screaming with joy, then laughing, then screaming again as he flipped over, stalled, rolled, dived, climbed, only demanding from time to time if her stomach was feeling all right.

  “I’m fine! Do that again, please!”

  “As you wish, my fearless flight leader.”

  When he had finally brought the steel bird back to its base, Lotte could barely move her legs and didn’t mind at all when Willi helped her out of the cockpit. Nearly falling into his arms and staying enclosed in them, Charlotte fell together with Willi onto the airfield’s ground. Laughing and positively refusing to get up despite the cold already seeping through their scarce clothing, they held onto each other until someone came out, at last, from the command post and shouted for them to get themselves off the ground.