by Cara Charles
“Rommel objected politely, saying…” “Keitel, please. Winifred is my new friend. She is a wonderful distraction to this unpleasantness. I wish for her to stay, if she is able. I need a break, and she shall have one, too. Bring us fresh coffee. And let us have some meat. Proper nourishment will get both of us through this.”
“I smiled and nodded. Keitel snapped his fingers. They brought us a delicious new tea tray. My hand was killing me, but I didn’t want to leave Rommel. I poured and offered him his cup, like we were sitting in my parlor. I toasted him and he toasted me and smiled. We sipped our coffee, ate our sandwiches smiling at each other. He rubbed his forehead. I knew his headache must have been horrible. He walked around the room, leaning heavily on his cane, pale and in pain. Keitel whispered in his ear. Rommel nodded. Rommel signaled to his aide. A doctor gave Rommel an injection of Morphine. He continued happily pain free, but coherent. He never wavered from his story. He was not involved in the plot to kill Hitler nor did he have any knowledge of it. When it was over he rose, then swooned to land in my lap. Then he whispered, “Help her.”
“I helped him to his feet, and squeezed his hand twice. He squeezed my hand back. When it was over, I began to panic as he walked toward the door. He stood at the door. I still feel he knew I wanted to say something. He turned, smiled, clicked his heels, and bowed. He turned to leave, his eyes downcast, and very sad. He opened the door. I had to say something.”
“General!” “I cried out. When he looked at me, I deeply curtsied, and nodded, giving him the respect he deserved and hopefully the message he was longing for. I stayed there until he left the room. I knew it was a matter of time before someone would confess. In spite of Rommel being Hitler’s favorite General, Hitler was in a blood lust. He executed hundreds of people, their families, and staff involved in the conspiracy or not. Hitler made his choice and instead of believing Rommel’s innocence, Hitler allowed Rommel to commit suicide and save his family and staff, rather than be tried for a treason he did not commit.”
“I met Herta last August, Ivan. We became best friends. Rommel believed she was special, so she had to be special. And I grew to believe him. And in October, just before they took her away, I transcribed her last lengthy interrogation. As Rommel’s rumored mistress, surely he’d revealed his most intimate secrets during pillow talk. So they imagined. But, when the rest of Rommel’s aides denied the rumors they were lovers, saying she always slept in her own bed, the butler was sent to the Russian front and Herta to Keitel's private, secret brothel camp. Herta being Ethiopian, is tall and lean. Since I am a big fan of American jazz and movies, I think Herta looks like Lena Horne. Everyone is mesmerized by Herta’s beauty, even Keitel. Herta knows Italian, German, English, Danish, Dutch, Afrikaans, and French as well as many ancient languages. After work, I would visit her in her cell. Her guard didn’t care, he was taken by Herta’s beauty and wanted to see her happy for a few hours. So he allowed us to share dinners together.”
“Are you the woman of the legend Herta, I whispered one evening?"
“Herta began, Marino was a tease Winnie, an old man having a laugh, wishing for younger days. And he was lonely for a woman of his own. I’d grown into a woman right before his eyes. He was Italian and still a man. He was a lovely man who loved Egyptian and Sumerian things. I was his closet colleague, his maid, his nurse and his assistant. My family worked for the dear old Doctor for three generations. My Grandfather was his first assistant and his best friend, taking him to all the secret ruins. My Father grew up at his knee and was his assistant in the field, my Grandmother his cook and maid, my Mother his typist. My Grandmother had learned to speak English at the British missionary schools. Marino was enchanted with her. That is how we came to work for him. I think he loved her and had to have her near him. For years I resisted sitting still long enough to absorb what he was trying to teach me. It was when he stopped, when he became sad and withdrawn, it hurt me, and I realized that I’d been hurting him. I did love him like a Grandfather. When I cried in my Mother’s arms that he didn’t love me anymore it was my mother, who finally convinced me, he loved me like his own Granddaughter and I was his last pupil. Most of all, he wanted his life’s work and legacy to the world to continue through me. We were his only family. When I climbed up in his lap and begged him to tell me a new story, it was his smile, seeing the light return to his eyes, that made me realize I genuinely loved him and never wanted to hurt him again. I fell in love with the stories that his findings would produce. That is why I am multi-lingual even in the ancient languages. All to continue his work and spread his knowledge around the world. Through me, he lives.”
“Her nobility made me cry, Ivan. I had tears in my eyes. I took off my grandmother’s locket and clasped it around her neck. She was touched.”
“Herta said,” “I’ll cherish it, always.”
“She kissed away my tears, like she was my own Mother. It killed me to tell her, but I wanted to prepare her. I said, ‘they are taking you to Keitel’s secret camp. Just cooperate. Don’t give them any reason to punish you, please Herta. Promise we’ll find each other at war’s end. The war should end very soon. When we surrender and you are freed, I’ll look for you at the Friedrichstrasse train station here in Berlin every Friday at noon.’ Herta kissed my cheek and looked into my eyes…”
“Yes. Winnie. I’ll be there. We’ll both go to America or home to Ethiopia.”
“I can still hear the cell block door groaning open. The guard was coming. We knew it was time to go. I hugged her one last time.”
“Herta said,” “I will survive Winnie. Don’t worry. We will find each other again. I’ll take you home to Africa, and show you all the ancient places I told you about. Maybe you will want to stay and help me continue the Doctor’s work.”
“I’ll be counting the days I said, as the guard closed the door and took me from the cellblock crying, hoping they wouldn’t hurt her.”
“Don’t cry Winnie. I’ll be all right,” Herta called as the door, closed.
“As Keitel’s secretary, I’ve always known about their secret retreat. It is an old resort not far from here Ivan, secretly maintained in defiance of Hitler’s orders. It was Keitel, who wished to preserve the artists and musicians, poets and writers, and playwrights that the secret club within the German High Command enjoyed and respected. Plus it is a brothel where exotic, ethnic, beautiful women and men are kept for pleasuring this secret sect within the High Command, always conducted behind Hitler’s back, of course. Keitel had chosen me to be his secretary because I’d been an Art History doctoral student at the University. In me, Keitel found a kindred spirit and occasionally lavished me with rare forbidden books and other luxuries. Being beautiful, pleasant, and cooperative, will hopefully save Herta’s life. She knew how to survive, she said. With the war finally against them, I intend to live up to my promise to her, Ivan. If there is a chance Ivan, would you please rescue her, and take her home, at least as far as Cairo?”
“Oh Winnie, that’s a tall order. But darling, where there is a will there is a way.” Ivan kissed Winnie as she broke down and cried grateful tears. “We’re both brilliant so we can come up with something!” Ivan laughed.
Winnie laughed, “We can. We will. End of story!!” She threw her arms around his neck and cried. “Come to me now, Ivan. I’m yours, forever.”
“You’re the heroine, my darling and mine forever…” Ivan whispered.
Gently and delicately, he kissed her, her mouth, her eyes, her face. Ivan traveled to the hollows of her neck and breathed her in. They caressed and tasted each other. Ivan stroked and kissed her skin until she was on fire and arching her back for him. She kissed him everywhere, felt the muscles under his skin, appreciating his physical symmetry, then she grabbed parts of his and squeezed, then stroked him everywhere with her fingertips, her warm mouth. Their breathing quickened as did their pleasure and hunger. Their passion, their yearning for each other was undeniable. Now they moved together, slowly, savo
ring this moment, giving permission to their hearts and bodies to become one. Ivan was tender and gentle restraining his ravenous desire for her, letting her reveal her depth of desire for him. He would take her with him to the peak of craving and devotion. She was losing herself in him and now he in her. Breathing quickened, as their passion sang. Together now they crashed into their own world, driven there by love. He looked at her face and knew he never wanted their moment to end, her face flooded with ecstasy. She opened her eyes and tears fell as she smiled. She was never more beautiful and he was never more in love. He vowed he’d never forget what the truth of true love felt like. Winnie.
“My love,” Ivan whispered.
Throughout their time together, Ivan occasionally found luxurious things for her, lotions, bath oils, soaps, perfumes and shampoo. He loved to surprise her with a new dress or a pair of shoes, a warm coat, silk underwear and silk stockings from the black market. He fed her, stealing food from the officer’s mess and when he’d return to their little hideaway in the basement apartment building, she’d always be there, waiting. They’d spend rare days together, laughing, planning Herta’s escape, and a future together. Ivan was deeply in love.
A few days later, a chill coursed through him when she asked, “Ivan, my darling? Do you think you could bring a bit more food? I’ve found a twelve year old boy who needs feeding,” is all she would say.
His heart was burdened with the worry of it. Maybe she was planning to leave. She was just trying to help a young and terrified boy soldier survive, too. But that night when they made love and she cried, she looked into his eyes and forever touched his heart with her contented tearful face. She was at peace with him. It was then, at that moment he knew how genuine her feelings would always be. Ivan knew his love for her was not in vain. Their plans for a future together were beautiful. But tonight he’d saved his best present for such a moment.
Late that night, she’d taken the extra food and gone out, promising to be back in an hour. Winnie was gone three hours. In that time, Ivan had finished fixing the pipes, having lost track of time.
They had running water. He’d built a fire in the old fireplace that still worked and heated kettles of water for her.
She knocked their knock.
Ivan hugged her hard, so relieved she was back.
She was subdued. “I waited for him for three hours. I think they took him away.”
Her mood changed when she saw the tub and kissed him for his efforts. She bathed three times in preparation for their special anniversary night together. He’d washed her hair in buckets of luxurious lather. She stripped him of his clothes and pulled him into the big laundry tub, and bathed him. In the end he smelled as good as she did. The bath was remarkable in how it took the war away.
A pale pink floor length silk nightgown with a train, a gown made for a movie star waited for her on the bed. She gasped when she saw it. She cried like a bride on her honeymoon when she saw the pink silk nightgown, tied up in a white silk ribbon that he tied in her hair.
Ivan ceremoniously draped it over her shapely body. He admired her, escorting her around the room like a queen.
“You’re a goddess.”
“Your goddess,” she said as she kissed him.
He carried her to their fresh bed he’d made with luxurious new sheets.
“Beautiful,” she sighed. They fell asleep in each other’s arms.
When she awakened, Ivan was packing things. Winnie cried silently, heartbroken.
“My unit is moving out in the morning,” Ivan had to admit.
She recoiled as if he’d struck her. “You weren’t going to say good-bye?”
Ivan knelt at her feet. “My loving but silly, beauty! I’m going after our African Queen.”
Winnie kissed his face crying. “I didn’t have the heart to press you.”
“My life and my language abilities have finally found a mission, to love you and save our friend. Never before have I felt more alive and vital than right now.”
“Ivan. Ivan. My darling. Ivan, the wonderful! You are my hero, our hero, my dear and darling, Ivan Kimirov.”
Ivan kissed her like he’d never kissed her before. He was her man. She was his woman. Together they had a mission. Love would make them triumphant. They’d live happily ever after.
Ivan would desert, to rescue Herta. He buried his face in her hair, filled himself with her softness, and drowned himself in their love.
“I love you Ivan, the extraordinary,” she said choking on her tears, her face buried in his neck, as her heart independently expressed her devotion.
With just as much sincerity, he replied, “I know.”
Winnie laughed, and cried simultaneously while mildly in shock. She punched him hard in the shoulder, then she jumped him and thrust her elbow in his ribs. She’d been so vulnerable and sincere sharing her love for him and he was mildly mocking her in his teasing way.
Ivan succumbed to ticklish laughter. He wanted to make her his wife if she’d have him. He kissed her tear stained angelic face. God he loved her more than life, itself. He’d ask her when he got back with Herta. They’d all be so happy. He was so afraid she would say no. He knew once he returned from his mission, Winifred might try and go home to Heidelberg. He would beg her to wait until the war ended. Then he’d escort her home. They’d all go on to Africa with Ivan as their protection. Ivan was sure she’d agree.
They made love all day, each time with more intensity, echoing each other’s primal bliss. Ivan imagined their lives together in exotic Africa, unimaginably happy.
“Ivan, my love? If we get separated, I want you to promise to take Herta to General Eisenhower. Tell him everything I’ve told you. Give him the carbons in the briefcase. I know one of their preferred places will be Reims. She can’t fall into the Russians’ hands. They’ll experiment on her. It will kill her. Something could happen. Bombers, more Russian rapists. Just hurry home.”
“Yes, I swear with all my heart, if it is the last thing I do on Earth, I will get Herta to safety and to General Eisenhower! So help me God and… Goddess.”
“But you don’t believe in God.”
“I believe in you, my Goddess.” Ivan sighed.
Their special night felt like good-bye.
In the morning, she kissed him differently, and looked deep into his soul. She sent him off with a chunk of bread, cheese, a jar of tea and the warmest good luck hug he’d ever had in his life. Except from his mother. They were saying farewell.
Ivan kissed her and didn’t look back. If he did, he wouldn’t leave her.
Ivan crept through the bombed out city knowing his way. He had stolen a German transport truck, a uniform, and papers off an old man in a ragged German uniform who traded his uniform and papers for food.
Ivan drove three hours northwest of Berlin.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN -- FIND HER
IVAN FOUND THE INN easily, because of Winfred’s instructions. Winifred had told him what to say to the guard.
In his best workingman’s German, Ivan said to the bored guard, “Transporting Valhalla female inventory to Ravensbruck.”
The guard was surprised but dismissive and waved him through, “How sad. I thought we weren’t depleting this special inventory.”
“Change in plans. Covering their ass is my guess. Which way?” Ivan felt beads of sweat pop out on his upper lip, and lit two cigarettes to wipe it. “Game for a Russian cigarette?”
“Why not? Third building on the left.”
Ivan handed off a cigarette to the guard.
He opened the gate, then lit it. “Tastes like I expected. Peasant shit.”
“And for this, they had a revolution?” Ivan said.
They laughed.
“Depleting the inventory is system wide, I understand. They are real beauties. I’ll miss them,” the bored guard said then waved him through. He was ready for the war to end, too.
Ivan parked the truck out of sight of the gate and walked into the ancient ivy covered
building, the former staff quarters.
Twenty of the most beautiful African, Middle Eastern, and Asian women he’d ever seen were gathered in the staff dining room. Laundry hung in the kitchen drying. Others were selecting an evening gown from a rack of gowns and cocktail dresses hung at the end of the laundry room.
Vanities laden with make-up, lotion, and perfume bottles, were in each room, many ladies were getting ready for the evening. Ivan went from room to room, asking each beautiful woman, “Herta?”
They shook their heads, no.
“Find her for me. I was sent by a friend.” Ivan said in French.
Ivan walked back into the dining room. The women were gathering in there, whispering in their native languages.
“Je suis la pour vous aider.” “ I’m here to help you.” Ivan said.
They didn’t trust him. No one smiled.
“Herta, please? I know you’re here. We must hurry. Winifred sent me.”
Out of the crowd stepped a young, tall, stunning African woman wearing a locket.
Ivan whispered, “I’ve come to take you to her.”
Herta sighed and went to her room to gather her things.
Someone grabbed her, spoke to her angrily in her native tongue.
Ivan said in German, “Everyone? Shush. You must not make a sound. I have a truck outside. Quietly, gather your belongings and in three minutes we are all leaving.”
Ivan took Herta aside and whispered, “Je suis a vous tous a liberte’ mais il ne faut pas leur dire au cas ou queiq’uun est tombe’ pour leur amant Allemand.”
“I’m taking you all to freedom. But let’s not tell them in case someone has fallen for their German lover.”
Herta nodded. Herta spoke to them in their language. They quickened their pace. Did a few of them bow? Herta shook that gesture off, afraid Ivan had seen it.
Ivan watched the door. He feared someone would come to fetch one of the girls, or one would panic, or not want to go, or leave to get help, but they all cooperated. It was the afternoon. Partying would begin soon.