He came and sat close to Leeburg. ‘Ernzt tells me you are after a job with Heckmeir,’ he said.
‘Yes,’ Leeburg grunted, and wondered who else Karl had told.
‘Will it pay well?’
Leeburg shrugged. ‘For the time being,’ he said.
‘What are you going to do after that?’
The beer cushioned Leeburg’s general resentment to the question. It even loosened his tongue. ‘I haven’t made up my mind yet,’ he said. ‘I have things I want to work out first.’
‘Can I help?’
Leeburg shook his head.
‘I have a lot of friends and a lot of sources of information,’ Kurtz said. ‘If you think I could help you, let me know. You can always find me in Bregenz. Here is my address.’ He handed Leeburg a printed card. Leeburg put it in his pocket.
‘Thanks!’ he said, but had no intention of taking up the offer.
‘If you decide that teaching the Allied soldiers how to ski doesn’t satisfy your needs come and see me. A man of your talents is at a premium to the right people.’
Man of his talents! What was Kurtz referring to? ‘What talents?’ he mumbled, but didn’t get an answer. Kaufman rejoined them before Kurtz could explain himself.
Soon after the party broke up. Kurtz was staying with Kaufman and was leaving early in the morning for Feldkirch. They arranged to meet again when Kurtz was next in the town.
Leeburg staggered back to the Gasthof, pondering over his conversation with Kurtz. What talent? he asked himself again and again. What had Kurtz been referring to?
There was still a light shining from the kitchen, but Leeburg went straight to his room and flopped wearily into bed.
CHAPTER 5
It was late when Leeburg awoke, and the Gasthof had an empty silence about it. He recalled that his mother had said that she was taking Annalisa to visit some friends, and that Karl was going to Innsbruck with Sergeant Lefant.
He wondered where Frieda was. He hoped she was also out. She worried him. He could feel her eyes watching him whenever they were together, mentally undressing him, and he could sense his brother’s jealousy.
Frieda was at the root of all the tensions which smouldered under the surface in the Gasthof, he thought. He knew she was trying to entice him into making a move. Playing a cat and mouse game with him. Flaunting her sex at him, trying to undermine his resistance. And it might have worked, even with him, because Frieda certainly had sex appeal, there was no doubt about that. Her broad shoulders, large bosom and matching hips, extruded a particular sort of chemistry that had an odour of fertility and desire about it. She had always had this appeal. Even as a teenager she had satisfied the desires of many ardent soldiers who had come to the valley. Yes, he thought, it might have worked — if it hadn’t been for his experience with Helga.
When Leeburg had heard of his brother’s marriage to Frieda, he had been both puzzled and saddened. Puzzled because he didn’t understand why Frieda had married Karl, and saddened because he knew why Karl had married Frieda. Karl was human, he had desires and needs. For him to find someone like Frieda to respond and satisfy his desires must have been like finding an oasis in the desert.
Leeburg didn’t criticize his brother, because he had felt the same desires, the same need for a woman. He had gone through his childhood and youth and become a man, and still had been a virgin. When he heard the other men boasting of their successes, he kept quiet. If they challenged him about it, he would tell them some amorous lie which satisfied their curiosity. But his desires and feelings had awakened and like his brother he could quite easily have fallen under the spell of someone like Frieda, if it hadn’t been for Helga.
Even that could have gone wrong if Helga had felt different about him, but it hadn’t gone wrong and it had satisfied his yearnings and put him on the right keel. But for Helga, Frieda’s sly looks and suggestive remarks might have tempted him. He was thankful he was able to resist them. Grateful to Helga. As he lay in his bed, he let his mind go back to the summer of 1942. The summer that he had become a man. The summer that he had met Helga…
It had been a long, hot summer. In the rest camp on the outskirts of Oslo, Leeburg swam and took a well-deserved rest. For three days he lazed about enjoying both the sun and the absence of any daily routine. There were about a hundred men in the camp. Some waiting for a posting to a fighting unit and others, like Leeburg, having a ten day leave.
It was peaceful in the camp. The men gathered in small groups in the evenings and drank in the canteen, content to swap yarns and find solace in the specially brewed beer. But on the fourth day after Leeburg’s arrival, a sudden air of expectancy ran through the camp like a fast burning bush fire. A party of prostitutes were due to arrive the following day. No one knew precisely where the rumour had started, but it was so strong that it had a ring of truth. And it was not uncommon. The German High Command were well aware of the needs of their occupational troops. A brothel satisfied this need and prevented local trouble.
The following day the men lay in their sun spots and waited. They were not disappointed. In the afternoon a party of twenty girls in the uniform of the Women’s Corps arrived by bus. The men watched, wide-eyed, as they disappeared into the sick bay.
An air of excitement and raucous laughter rent the air. Again Leeburg had to listen to the conquests of his friends, and of their past pleasures.
‘If that blonde from Wesbaden is with them, she’s for me.’
‘You couldn’t satisfy her last time, you won’t this time.’
‘No, but she satisfies me.’
The banter went on for the rest of the day. Leeburg said little. There had been other times when he could have taken these services offered by the Army, but he had passed them over. His religious upbringing and sheltered background had instilled in him a puritanical code of morals. The thought of sleeping with a prostitute revolted him. It was carnal, lustful and sinful.
But for three years he had been away from the influence of his home, and in three years he had developed from a teenager into a man. He wanted a woman’s company in the same way as he needed his mountains. Not for the physical conquest, for their beauty, which refreshed his soul. Just to be alone and to talk to a woman would be sufficient.
The following day the orders were posted. Veiled in only slightly delicate terms they stated that a brothel had been set up in the hospital block. Applications to visit a hostess were to be made to the Medical Officer who would arrange appointments. It was to be carried out with the customary thoroughness of the Germany Army. Even the times of the visits were regulated.
Leeburg read the orders and was repulsed by its clinical approach. He had wanted something different. Something more natural. Not something impersonal like a machine. Inside his heart of hearts he knew he was wanting the impossible. He was wanting romance and love.
So Leeburg watched from a distance. He saw the men silently queueing to make their appointments and heard their laughter as they lay around waiting for their designated hour of call. He saw them go one by one for their baths and disappear into the hospital block. He expected them to return with more boisterous and jovial remarks, but they didn’t. They came back quiet and subdued. They returned to their beds and said little. One or two would bring out a photograph and study it wistfully. Leeburg was puzzled at first. He put it down to a feeling of regret, or guilt, but then he realized it was not that. The men had satisfied their desires and were more at peace with themselves.
Leeburg spent a restless night. The military approach to the whole business still repelled him, but he also longed for the company of a woman. Life owed him that one pleasure. There was no telling where the war would take him, or if he would survive. Had he not a right to take the joys of a woman’s body?
The following morning he joined the queue. He half expected his friends in the queue to mock him or rib him, but no one spoke and he became more confident and relaxed. He gave his name and rank to the orderly and found that
even in that establishment there were certain privileges in being a non-commissioned officer. He was given a green card and an appointment time of seven p.m. that evening. On the reverse side of the card was written the name ‘Helga’, and underneath the orderly had put number fourteen.
For the rest of the day Leeburg tried to occupy his thoughts by reading. He was torn between desire and guilt and the two feelings never left him. Shortly before seven p.m. he took a shower. The feeling of guilt swelled inside of him. He wanted to tear up the card, get out of the camp, away from the hospital block and the eyes of the other men. But he didn’t.
He presented himself to the orderly and was admitted through the swing doors to the corridor which led to the various rooms. There was an immediate smell of anaesthetic as if every corner had been sterilized against disease. He half expected to meet a nurse in her starched uniform. He watched a soldier in front of him go up to a door and knock. A voice told him to enter and the soldier disappeared. As Leeburg passed their room, he heard them laughing. He wished he felt as relaxed.
He came to number fourteen. His heart pounded and he felt weak at the knees. He knocked.
‘Come in,’ a voice called out.
Leeburg opened the door and saw Helga. She was a buxom girl with a round face and long fair hair. She was sitting on the edge of a table, wearing only a silk dressing gown, looking at herself in a small hand mirror.
Sheepishly, Leeburg entered the room and closed the door. It was a small room, more like a cubicle, with an iron framed bed, a small table and two chairs. The partitions stopped short of the ceiling and he could hear the occupants of the adjoining room enjoying themselves.
As he turned away from the door Helga looked up at him.
‘Hullo, Sergeant,’ she said eyeing him up and down.
‘Good evening, Fraulein,’ Leeburg stammered. He caught sight of her full breast and white thighs where the dressing gown fell away from her body and felt himself blushing.
‘The name’s Helga,’ she said.
‘Paul Leeburg,’ he replied.
She smiled. ‘Put your clothes on the table.’
Leeburg hesitated. He had never stripped off in front of a woman before. He felt uncomfortable.
‘Is this your first time?’ Helga asked. There was a gentleness in her voice which put him at ease.
‘Yes,’ he admitted. ‘Does it show?’
He felt better that it was out.
‘No,’ she lied. ‘Take off your shirt and pants. Leave your underclothes. We can talk for a while.’
Leeburg started to undress.
‘Where you from?’ Helga asked.
‘Vorarlberg,’ Leeburg replied. ‘South-west Austria. A small town. Ever been there?’
‘No, but I have been to the Tyrol.’
‘Where did you stay?’
‘Oh! at a camp a short distance out of Innsbruck.’
Leeburg kicked himself. She was a prostitute, not a tourist.
‘Married?’ Helga asked.
‘No.’
‘Girlfriend?’
Leeburg shook his head.
‘Not even a girlfriend. A good-looking boy like you.’
Leeburg sat on the chair in his briefs. He could feel her eyes on his tanned figure and sensed her admiration. It made him feel good. He looked at the half-opened dressing gown and felt a wave of excitement sweep through his body.
‘Where do you come from?’ he asked hoarsely.
‘Anywhere you care to name,’ she smiled. ‘Originally, a small village near Coblenz, but lately from Hamburg.’
She smiled and gave him an inviting look. He felt the blood surge through his veins. She took off her dressing gown to reveal her white supple figure with ample breast and hips. She slipped on to the bed and again looked at him. Leeburg could wait no longer. His excitement was throbbing in his brain. He crossed over to the bed his hands grabbing at her and his mouth groping for her lips. She pulled him close, very close, and helped him.
When all the fire had been drained out of him, Leeburg found himself in a mental jungle. He was surprised and disgusted at his own desires and lust. He would never have believed he could have behaved with such animal instincts. It horrified him. He wanted to get away from Helga’s body. He felt the perspiration come to his brow. He had to get away.
If Leeburg had been able to disengage himself and get out of the room, he would never have gone back and sex would have been some ugly experience with a prostitute. But a sudden gesture by Helga held him back. Very tenderly she started to stroke his brow with her soft hand. It was something his mother used to do to comfort him when he was young. It was an action which he associated with his mother’s love. As her hand gently stroked his brow it took the hatred out of him. It made him feel at peace with himself. His hatred turned to gratitude. She was helping him, telling him that she felt something towards him more than the relationship of a prostitute to a customer.
They lay quite still until it was time for him to leave. Other doors were being opened and closed. Leeburg didn’t have to be told. Silently he released himself from her embrace and got dressed. Helga put on the dressing gown.
‘You will come back again?’ she asked.
Leeburg looked at her and saw the look in her eyes. She wanted him to come back.
‘Yes,’ he said quietly. ‘Tomorrow.’
‘Come at nine in the evening. We can stay longer.’
‘But the orderly…’
‘I will arrange it.’
‘Very well,’ he said, and on a sudden impulse kissed her tenderly.
Outside the hospital block, he inhaled the warm, dark air. He felt strangely at peace with the world and slightly elated. Perhaps all the others felt the same, he thought. That was why they were subdued. Or had they felt his guilt and disgust? He shrugged. He wasn’t concerned about them. He was pleased with himself. He went for a walk before returning to his bunk.
Leeburg went back to Helga the following night and every night he was at the camp. For three hours, every night, they would lay together on the bed, talking and making love. He told her about his youth, and of his family, and about the mountains and the skiing. He opened his heart to her and she listened and encouraged him. She said little about herself and Leeburg didn’t question her. All he ever learned was what she had told him on their first evening together. But to Leeburg she was something more than a prostitute. She was a sensitive, loving person, with an understanding of people and a genuine affection for him.
On his last visit, he took her a present. A wooden carving which he had made in his spare time and which he had intended to take home to his mother. It was a beautiful piece of work which had often been admired.
There were tears in Helga’s eyes when he gave it to her.
‘No one has ever given me a present before,’ she said quietly. ‘If only I had something to give you in return.’
‘You have given me a lot already,’ he said seriously. ‘You have, Helga.’
He meant it. She had given him, not only her body, but also her heart. She had made his visits into an act of love making rather than an impersonal union of two sexes. She had saved him from himself. She had made him fully aware of the difference between love and lust. He was deeply grateful. She had saved him from Frieda!
Leeburg got out of bed. He would go and see Heckmeir, he thought, but first he needed a drink. He went to the kitchen. There was no one around, not even in the public rooms used by the guests. He went to the cupboard. Inside was a plentiful array of food and tins. Karl was a good supplier, he thought. Coffee was a luxury, yet Karl saw that they were never short. He had some good connections and friends, Leeburg thought. Was that one of the reasons why Frieda had married him?
‘Karl looks after us well,’ a voice said. Frieda’s voice!
She took Leeburg by surprise. He swung around to see her standing at the kitchen door, wearing a bath robe. She reminded him immediately of Helga. She was of the same shape and height, with the same
fair hair and complexion. She even had the knack of displaying the same amount of thigh and bust to excite him. But there the similarity ended. Inside, Freida neither had the brains nor the tenderness to be a Helga.
‘I was just about to take a bath,’ she smiled.
‘Everyone out?’ Leeburg asked.
She gave him a mocked look of horror. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Karl is visiting Innsbruck and Bludenz. He goes every week on a Thursday, and Annalisa and your Mother are visiting Frau Piesch. Annalisa has no school today.’
‘I was just about to make a cup of coffee,’ Leeburg said, aware of a certain tension which had crept into the atmosphere. ‘Would you care for one?’
‘Yes, please.’
She came and sat on the corner of the table, allowing her bath robe to fall away at the knee. Leeburg busied himself at the stove.
‘You were late last night, Paul,’ she said.
‘I met some friends in town,’ Leeburg replied.
‘I waited up for you in case you wanted something.’
Leeburg felt a tremor pass through his body. He had suspected that one day Frieda was going to make a play for him. He had hoped it would never happen, but he knew now it was going to take place sooner than he had expected. He mentally cursed her. The last thing he wanted was to fool about with his brother’s wife, but he suspected that a scorned Frieda could become a dangerous enemy. He was going to have to handle her with kid gloves.’
‘That was very nice of you, Frieda,’ he said lightly. ‘But you need not have bothered.’ He handed her the cup.
‘But I wanted to, Paul,’ she said quietly. ‘I want to please you.’
Another tremor passed through his body. He sat on a chair near the stove. He knew he was trapped, he couldn’t escape from her. He had to play along with her until he could see a way out. ‘What are you doing today, Frieda?’ he asked.
‘Nothing,’ she replied. ‘Do you have any suggestions?’
‘No,’ he sighed. ‘There isn’t much to do here. I’m going to see Heckmeir.’
‘Not straight away, I hope. We don’t often have an opportunity to be alone together.’
The Fallen Eagles Page 6