The Fallen Eagles

by Geoffrey Davison

  Everything went quiet as it always does when death stalks the countryside. Even the birds stopped chirping.

  Leeburg’s eyes quickly scanned his front and left flank, but nothing stirred. When he looked back at the farm house, he saw a blood stained white rag dangling from a window opening. At the same instant Reitzer shouted, ‘Out!’ in English.

  There was no response. Again Reitzer shouted. The white rag moved up and down. Reitzer gave his short whistle calling Leeburg to him. Slowly Leeburg withdrew into the wood and made his way to where he thought Reitzer and Hertz would be. He saw Hertz first. He was sitting on the ground a short distance behind Reitzer, a stunned expression on his face.

  Reitzer had heard Leeburg approach. He turned and waved him forward. There was no expression of remorse on his face. Leeburg gritted his teeth and crawled up beside him. He could see the dead Englander in front of them.

  ‘There is another one inside,’ Reitzer whispered. ‘Probably wounded. Go in from the left flank. Muller and I will cover you.’

  Leeburg breathed heavily. ‘Why Erich?’ he asked. ‘Why did you do it?’

  Reitzer turned to face him. He saw the puzzled look on his friend’s face. ‘Because this is war,’ he hissed. ‘That is why we are here.’

  ‘But he wasn’t even armed.’

  Reitzer gave him a contemptuous, pitying look. As their eyes met, their past friendship was burned in the flames which appeared in Reitzer’s eyes. Erich Reitzer wanted no more of his friend. Slowly he brought the muzzle of his rifle to point at Leeburg’s face. ‘Go!’ he snapped. ‘Now!’

  Leeburg looked incredulously at the muzzle of the rifle pointing at him. Was this really happening? he wondered. Was Erich Reitzer really threatening him? He looked into Reitzer’s face and got his answer. Erich Reitzer was prepared to kill him!

  Leeburg suddenly felt weak. Slowly he crept back from where he had been lying and slipped into the woods. He heard Reitzer call to Muller, and he stopped to regain his composure. His body was trembling, his heart was heavy and sad. He had just lost a good friend.

  Very slowly he made his way to the flank of the building, with each step steeling himself. At the edge of the wood, he hesitated, braced himself and burst into the daylight. He flung himself into the ravine and hugged the ground, expecting any second to be spattered with a stream of lead. When nothing happened he crept up the side of the ravine. With heart thumping he ran across the open ground to the corner of the building.

  He stopped and listened. Inside the building someone groaned. Slowly he edged his way along the end of the building. He saw the ambulance and a soldier’s jacket with a red cross arm band, inside the cab. Again he stopped, again the groaning. At the corner of the building he saw the open door to the farm house. He inched his way towards it, his fingers on the trigger of his rifle and his eyes searching the ambulance and outbuildings for any movement.

  At the doorway, he hesitated, and then rushed inside, his rifle at the ready.

  There were three men lying on the floor on stretchers and one propped up against the wall under the window. There was no fight or fear in them. They were too busy dying. Only the eyes of the blood spattered body propped under the window looked at him. And they had the glass look of death about them.

  Leeburg felt a wave of nausea. He left the building and stood in the fresh air, fighting against an urge to vomit. When he had managed to control it, he went back inside and hurriedly searched the other rooms. They were empty. He heard Reitzer call to him and gladly left the building and retraced his steps.

  ‘There are four men inside,’ he reported back to Reitzer. ‘One is probably dead. The other three are close to it.’ He also wanted to say that the man they had killed had been a medical orderly who had remained with the four wounded men, but he didn’t.

  ‘Good,’ Reitzer grunted. He stood up and called to Muller. Muller came hurrying through the bushes his podgy face lathered with perspiration.

  ‘Come with me, Muller,’ Reitzer said. He looked at Leeburg. ‘Stay with Hertz.’

  Reitzer moved off. Muller gave Leeburg a half-hearted grin which mixed amusement with apology and followed his Corporal. Leeburg went up to the broken Hertz and put his hand tenderly on his shoulder.

  Hertz started to sob. ‘He made me do it, Leeburg,’ he cried. ‘He made me do it. He said he would kill me if I didn’t.’

  Leeburg lifted him on to his feet.

  ‘He said he would kill me,’ Hertz said again. ‘He did, Leeburg. He did.’

  Leeburg led him back into the wood. Away from the scene of the killing. He felt disgust and hatred for his former friend.

  Soon after, the battle for France was over. Erich Reitzer was posted to an officer training school. Leeburg was sent on a course for mountain warfare to train as an instructor. Private Hertz remained with the unit until the middle of July when he committed suicide…

  CHAPTER 4

  As Leeburg stepped off the train, snowflakes fell on his face, and he felt the chill of the mountain air. He was immediately surrounded by a bustling, shouting crowd of French soldiers and Allied servicemen who filled the platform. Cautiously he picked his way towards the exit. As he passed the station master’s office he saw the row of civilian faces lining the fence. They watched him silently through their muffled headgear. It had been the same at all the stations. Sad, forlorn faces, longing to see one of their own kin get off the train. He kept his eyes away from them. He could sense their disappointment.

  ‘Paul! Paul!’ an excited child’s voice carried across to him. Leeburg stopped in his tracks and saw his sister, Annalisa.

  ‘Paul!’ she cried again.

  He saw her run towards the exit. He hurried to meet her. She ran into his arms and he lifted her off the ground.

  ‘Oh! Paul,’ she cried.

  ‘Annalisa!’ He hugged her tight and put her down. ‘Annalisa,’ he smiled. ‘My how you have grown.’

  He looked into her wide blue eyes, surrounded by a woollen headscarf, and hugged her again.

  ‘Oh! Mamma will be pleased,’ she said excitedly. ‘It is good to have you back.’

  He put his arm around her shoulder and led her out of the station.

  ‘I have met every train since we got your letter,’ she said, bubbling with enthusiasm.

  ‘How is Mamma?’ he asked.

  ‘She is well. She is preparing the evening meal. The Gasthof is busy every weekend with French soldiers who come for the skiing. Oh! she will be pleased.’

  ‘And Karl?’

  There was a fractional hesitation before she replied. ‘He is well,’ she said, but without the same enthusiasm she had previously displayed. ‘And so is Frieda.’

  Frieda! Leeburg had momentarily forgotten that his brother had got married. A fleeting frown appeared on his face. He had been taken aback when his mother had written to him about it. It had troubled him. Not that there was any physical reason why his brother should not have married. He was a man, despite his withered leg and club foot. But to Frieda. It was unbelievable.

  ‘Are they happy, Annalisa?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes,’ she replied, but without any great conviction. ‘Frieda helps Mamma prepare the food and serves it to the soldiers. She is very popular with them.’

  Popular! She would be that all right, Leeburg thought. She had always been popular.

  They walked in silence along the road, past the row of shops, and the town square where a French soldier stood on guard outside the Burgomaster’s office. The muffled figures that they saw stopped and stared at them. Leeburg purposely kept his eyes away from them. He would probably know them, but he didn’t want to talk to them — not today. Outside the post office he saw the notice board. It was over a metre square and covered with photographs and messages. One day he would look at it and see if he could help, but not today.

  ‘There is Fraulein Gerhard,’ Annalisa said. Her remark broke their silence and made him look up. On the opposite side of the road was a slim figure i
n a red anorak. ‘She sometimes helps at the school,’ Annalisa explained. ‘Let me introduce you, Paul.’

  ‘No,’ Leeburg said sharply, and was sorry he had spoken so abruptly. ‘Mamma first,’ he added in a more gentler tone.

  The girl in the red anorak waved to them and Annalisa waved back.

  ‘She is very nice,’ Annalisa whispered secretively.

  ‘I am very pleased,’ Leeburg said and gave her a squeeze, ‘because so are you.’

  He increased the pace. He didn’t want to meet people. He wanted to get out of his uniform and become one of them again.

  They came to the bridge over the railway line and the Gasthof was in front of them. It stood alone at the edge of the river, surrounded by a small plantation. Behind it was the steep wooded slopes towering into the sky. It was a beautiful sight to Leeburg, it always had been. He liked the white washed walls and large black lettering, and the low pitched roof with the wide overhanging eaves. And the white carpet of snow which lay over their fields made it look like a Christmas decoration on the white icing of his mother’s cake. They had been fortunate, he thought. At least the war had not brought its wake of destruction into their valley.

  For a moment he stood quite still taking in the scene. How many times had he thought about it, he wondered, and pictured it in his mind? A thousand times? A million times?

  Annalisa gripped his hand and pulled him over the bridge. As they came closer to the Gasthof a figure came out to meet them. It was a woman with a shawl wrapped around her head and shoulders. It was his mother!

  Leeburg ran to meet her. She came straight into his arms.

  ‘Paul! Paul!’ she cried.

  He could feel her frail body trembling. He kissed her and held her close.

  ‘Let me see you,’ she said.

  He looked into her face. The years had not been kind. Her face had aged. She was not an old woman, but already her face was lined and creased, and her eyes sunken. But it was still a kind, gentle face. He kissed her again.

  ‘Paul,’ she said. ‘You look fine. Oh! Paul, you do.’

  ‘Yes, Mamma,’ he smiled. ‘And all in one piece.’

  ‘How is your head, son?’ She looked at his scar.

  ‘Everything is all right,’ he said.

  ‘We have a lot to be thankful for,’ his mother said.

  And tomorrow you will go to Church and light a candle, Leeburg thought, and felt a dull ache inside him. If only he had the same simple faith as his mother, he could have gone to Church and told them about the Villa Lucciano and perhaps he would have felt better. But he hadn’t.

  ‘Where is Karl?’ he asked.

  ‘At the Gasthof,’ his mother replied.

  But he hadn’t come out to meet him, like his mother, Leeburg thought, and felt disappointed.

  They walked to the Gasthof, Leeburg’s arm around his mother, and Annalisa hanging on to his other arm. Two army vehicles were parked in the forecourt and several pairs of skis were propped against the entrance porch.

  ‘We are in the kitchen,’ his mother said apologetically.

  ‘That’s the place to be,’ Leeburg laughed.

  They came to the steps which led to the basement kitchen and Karl appeared at the doorway. He was in his shirt sleeves with a dark green apron tied around his waist. He was a tall man like his brother, but more heavily built, with broader shoulders and strong muscular arms. His face was like his body, broad and strong looking, with dark eyes and receding bushy hair which accentuated his temple. Again Leeburg thought the years had not been kind to his family. There was only two years difference between him and Karl, but in appearance there could have been more.

  Karl weighed up his brother and smiled. ‘Good to have you back, Paul,’ he said, and held out his hand. The action took Leeburg by surprise. He had expected to embrace his brother, but Karl hadn’t made any such gesture.

  They shook hands. Karl stood to one side and Leeburg entered the kitchen. He saw the steaming pans and the walls lined with shelves displaying the cutlery, of which his mother was so proud, and he knew he was home.

  He took off his greatcoat. Karl came up to him, dragging his club foot across the stone floor.

  ‘Well, Paul,’ he said. ‘You look fit.’

  ‘Yes,’ Leeburg replied. ‘I am, and I’m glad to be back.’

  Annalisa ran over to him and put her arms around him. ‘So are we,’ she said.

  ‘That we are,’ his mother said quietly.

  Karl said nothing.

  ‘You look well, also, Karl,’ Leeburg said. ‘And I am to congratulate you.’ He looked meaningfully around the room. ‘Where is my sister-in-law?’

  ‘She will be here presently,’ Karl said. ‘She is changing.’

  There was a ring in the tone that he had used which put Leeburg on his guard.

  ‘You must be hungry,’ his mother said interrupting his thoughts. ‘Let me prepare you something.’

  ‘I can wait, Mother,’ Leeburg replied. ‘You get on with your work. I will sit and watch.’

  ‘Yes,’ Karl agreed. ‘There is work to be done. Come, Annalisa, help me set the places.’

  His brother shuffled around the kitchen table to the dresser and Annalisa followed him. At the same instant the door opened and Frieda came into the room. Her presence was like an electric charge. Leeburg could feel the change in the atmosphere. His mother busied herself with her preparations and Karl stood with his back to Leeburg watching his wife.

  Frieda closed the door behind her. Leeburg watched her. The last time he had seen her had been when he had been returning to his unit from leave. He had come across her in a bar in Innsbruck. She had been in the company of two German officers. He had been struck then by what she had displayed. He was now. She was a woman with a full, curvaceous figure and good looks, but most of all she had sex. It oozed out of her in the way she dressed, the way she stood and the way she looked. She had always had it, even as a young girl, and she had used it to get what she wanted. But there was no depth to her. She was the ideal bedmate, but not a wife, and yet here she was, his brother’s wife.

  She was dressed in their national costume with a white blouse, black skirt and coloured apron. It was a costume which gave her every opportunity to display her square, even shoulders and large, voluptuous bosom. Even the length of her skirt was such that it gave a promise of other delights. Her round, almost innocent looking face, with its two wide eyes and petite mouth, looked at him and broke into a smile.

  ‘Hullo, Paul,’ she said.

  Leeburg smiled back at her and shrugged off any preconceived thoughts. ‘Hullo, Frieda,’ he said, and crossed over to her and kissed her on the cheek. She moved fractionally towards him and her hand gripped his arm. It was a hidden, unseen gesture, but Leeburg sensed its implications.

  ‘It is good to have you back, Paul,’ she said. ‘We have been waiting for you. Haven’t we Karl?’

  ‘Yes, we have,’ Karl said and shuffled over to his wife. He put his arm possessively around her waist. A gesture, Leeburg thought, meant more for him than to show his affection for his wife.

  ‘I am sorry I was unable to get you a wedding present,’ Leeburg said, ‘but I will.’

  ‘No need,’ Karl said. ‘Is there, dear?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  ‘Now if you will excuse us, Paul. There is work to be done.’

  Frieda gave Leeburg a look which lingered longer than necessary and went and helped Annalisa. Karl helped his mother. They all had their own duties. Leeburg watched and wondered where he would fit into the picture, or if he even wanted to.

  There were eighteen French soldiers staying the weekend. They came from Innsbruck. It was a regular booking made with the French authorities and extra rations were provided which enabled the family to live reasonably well. Even during the summer the French had used the Gasthof. Leeburg learned this from his mother, and Karl, as they prepared the meal. He also learned how Karl had become the great provider.

 
During the war the German troops had used the valley, the town and the Gasthof. Karl had been employed by them for the distribution of rations. When first the Americans and then the French had become the occupational troops, Karl had been retained in a similar role to help during the critical period following the surrender.

  As the situation stabilized Karl’s services had not been dispensed with. Certain hotels and Gasthofs were designated as leave centres for allied servicemen and Karl was retained to help distribute the extra rations. It entailed periodic visits to Innsbruck, Feldkirch and Bregenz, together with a French sergeant, Sergeant Lefant, but as Karl proudly pointed out, it also meant a lot of extra perks. The family benefited from his work.

  Leeburg wondered how long Karl would also provide for him. Before he had arrived home, such a question would never have entered his mind. Now he was beginning to feel like an intruder.

  The French party returned from their skiing, and their shouts and laughter as they greeted Frieda carried into the kitchen. Leeburg wondered how his brother felt about his wife’s popularity. He watched him slicing the meat. His face was hard set. Leeburg stopped wondering.

  After the guests had been served, the family sat down for their meal. A bottle of wine was produced to celebrate Leeburg’s return home. Karl sat at the head as he always had since their father’s death. They talked about the war, about Leeburg’s internment, about the occupation, but not about people, although his mother did warn Leeburg there would be people calling on him.

  Karl did most of the talking. He spoke with an authoritative air that Leeburg had not noticed before. Not only was he sitting at the head of the table, but he seemed to be making it clear that he was head of the family also.

  When Annalisa and her mother retired, Karl and Leeburg talked on. Frieda had little to say, but her presence was always felt. She saw to that. Finally she cajoled her husband into taking her to bed and fussed over him as he bade Leeburg goodnight. Leeburg was not physically disturbed by the demonstration of her sex power, but he had an uncomfortable feeling that her display had been for his benefit.