Love for a Soldier

by Mary Jane Staples

  Aware that she was angry about things, he said, ‘Don’t be disturbed, young lady, it was all done to give the impression you’re a reluctant accomplice and, of course, to immobilize them. It will take them some time now to get back to their unit and report.’

  ‘It was absurd,’ she said, driving fast because she was angry.

  ‘I thought it necessary. Could you have shown them a travelling permit? I could certainly not have shown them the right kind of papers.’

  ‘I must be frank,’ said Sophia, ‘I really did not want to become involved in such an alarming way.’

  ‘Oh, it need not be too alarming,’ said Captain Marsh. ‘I’m sure your father, as Mayor of Valenciennes, could speak up for you. The Germans have a natural respect for a mayor – he has chief responsibility for a town’s orderliness, and the Germans are addicted to orderliness.’

  ‘Really? You are acquainted with Germans and their addictions?’

  ‘I’m acquainted with their martial ardour. This is the second time they’ve knocked me out of the sky. To return to the risk you’re taking in being such an invaluable help to me – the thing to do, I feel, is to declare you were coerced. As a combatant on the run from Germans, I’m allowed by the rules of war to exercise reasonable coercion. So on to Douai, Sophia.’

  At this familiarity, this unwelcome use of her name, Sophia shot him a look of disdain.

  ‘I’m not sure we’ll ever get to Douai,’ she said stiffly. ‘I’m quite lost on these silly little roads.’

  ‘Never mind, keep going,’ said Captain Marsh, ‘and we may find a signpost. If not, we’ll ask at the next village we come to.’

  ‘I really think it would be better if I stopped to let you get out.’

  ‘I’d rather not, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘Very well,’ said Sophia coldly.

  It was clear to him that she resented his presence. But he was determined not to spend the rest of the war in a prison camp. It might be only a month or two before the Allies, strengthened by the newly formed American divisions, brought the Germans to their knees, but he was still disinclined to give himself up.

  The index finger of his left hand throbbed, and the middle finger was painfully sensitive. Both fingers were badly swollen, but the discomfort was nothing compared with the fact that he’d survived.

  It was coming up to eleven in the morning when Major Kirsten re-entered General von Feldermann’s office. The general looked up. He was quite alone. Few generals operated without some staff members around them, even at a desk. General von Feldermann called for them only when he needed them. At the moment, with a pile of papers in front of him, he wanted no other mind but his own to concentrate on the problems they posed.

  ‘Well, Josef?’ he said.

  ‘First, the quartermaster’s estimates, Herr General,’ said Major Kirsten, offering more papers. ‘They’re the final figures, fully summarized and quite complete.’

  The general took the papers, though he smiled a little tiredly. Everyone at Headquarters was under strain. Ludendorff was a hard and demanding warlord.

  ‘Thank you, Josef,’ he said, ‘particularly for the fact that they’re complete. That’s your work finished at least. Myself, I’ve still to consider the ifs and buts. Ludendorff has confirmed he’ll be here tomorrow. Have you been up all night?’

  ‘I’ve burned a little midnight oil,’ said Major Kirsten, looking as if he had missed out on sleep lately.

  ‘I’m sure you have,’ said the general, who knew Major Kirsten gave a great deal of himself when faced with staff work of unusual importance. It probably eased his frustrations, for he was more at home in the field than behind a desk. The major, actually, had come to terms with his loss of an arm and the slightly impaired vision of his right eye. He hoped now for a quick end to the war and for early retirement to his little estate in Saxony.

  ‘There’s no word from Captain Vorster yet,’ he said.

  ‘He’s a man of method, not inspiration,’ said the general, scanning his quartermaster’s estimates. ‘It will take him time—God in heaven, where are all these extra guns to come from?’

  ‘I thought General Ludendorff said every divisional requirement will be met.’

  ‘So he did,’ said the general, ‘but I’d still like to ask him exactly when they’ll be met. Josef, take a rest – go off duty for two days. I shan’t need you tomorrow.’

  ‘Herr General –’

  ‘That’s an order.’

  Major Kirsten returned to his office. Two days off duty while Ludendorff was masterminding the coming offensive had little appeal for him.

  The telephone rang when he was drinking a welcome cup of coffee. He answered it. Colonel Hoffner was on the line from Douai.

  ‘Yes, my friend?’ said Major Kirsten. He and Kurt Hoffner had been cadets together.

  ‘I’ve news of the young lady you spoke to me about.’

  ‘What news?’

  ‘From reports I’ve received, she appears to have been abducted, and by a man who may be a British flying officer.’

  ‘I think I’d like you to repeat that,’ said Major Kirsten.

  Colonel Hoffner repeated it and enlarged on it. Earlier that morning, a report had mentioned a British fighter plane being shot down east of Douai by Richtofen, whose squadron was stationed near the town. The crashed plane, burned out, had been investigated. The pilot, apparently, had scrambled free, for there was no trace of him, nor any semblance of a charred corpse. A search was going on for him. As to the other matter, the colonel said that two of his men on a routine country patrol had stopped a car containing a young lady and a man they took to be a Frenchman. The young lady answered to the given description. When questioned about the man, the soldiers had described him and the leather jacket he was wearing. One of them had said it was like an airman’s jacket. The man had produced a revolver and threatened to shoot the soldiers unless they dropped their rifles and retreated. He had then compelled the young lady to drive her car over the men’s bicycles, ruining them. She and the man, who was almost certainly the pilot of the destroyed Sopwith Camel plane, had disappeared, together with the car. The incident had taken place not far from La Calle, a tiny village slightly northeast of Douai.

  At this point in his narrative Colonel Hoffner said, ‘You’re taking this in?’

  ‘I am,’ said Major Kirsten, ‘but not without shock and disbelief.’

  ‘I think we must both accept it’s true. My two men were questioned separately, and each told an identical story. Each said the man was very determined, the young lady angry, and that she refused his order to relieve them of their rifles.’

  ‘I’m to believe she has managed to get herself mixed up with a man as desperate as this?’

  ‘I imagine she couldn’t help herself,’ said Colonel Hoffner. ‘I’ve detailed a number of men to conduct a search, and they’ll work in conjunction with the search party from Jagdstaffel II. Is all this interesting to you, Josef?’

  ‘Beyond expectation,’ said Major Kirsten. ‘It’s also damned serious.’

  ‘Who is this young woman?’

  ‘That’s an awkward question, Kurt, and I can’t answer it at the moment. I’d very much like your men to find her.’

  ‘I’ll let you know as soon as they do, but you understand, of course, that in the changed circumstances my men can’t merely follow her. They’ll have to pick up the desperate gentleman and separate her from him. Are we to hold her here in Douai or let her go?’

  ‘I’d appreciate it if you’d give her some coffee while you report to me,’ said Major Kirsten.

  ‘I’m at your service, naturally,’ said Colonel Hoffner drily.

  Major Kirsten put the phone down and sat thinking for a while. His office had the same lofty grandeur as all other rooms in the chateau, and one could not complain of lack of space. He felt pressurized, all the same. Desk work could be more debilitating than field activities.

  There was a light knock on the communicati
ng door, and Lieutenant Elissa Landsberg entered. Lieutenant Landsberg was his immediate assistant, and a very efficient one. An officer of the Women’s Army Corps, she was a first-rate typist, a genius at figures and a paragon of willing endeavour. Twenty-five years old, her slim but shapely figure was uniformed with tailored precision, and permitted the eye a pleasurable view of her silk-clad calves. Her crown of brown hair was neatly braided, her elegant feet neatly shod. A woman of excellent character and unswerving loyalties, she had worked with Major Kirsten for six months. Five weeks ago, with a tact that prevented anyone taking offence, she had declined an offer of a position on the quartermaster’s staff and the promotion to Captain that went with the job. She told Major Kirsten she did not feel up to it; that its demands would be too much for her. Major Kirsten did not argue.

  ‘Major,’ she said, ‘the draft of Directive Number Four has been typed. May I have the distributive list to check on how many copies will be required?’

  ‘You’ve reached that point on top of everything else?’ The major gave her an appreciative smile. ‘Lieutenant, although my every nerve twitched at the thought of receiving women into the army, I’m now at peace with the High Command’s fateful decision. You’re a model of efficiency, and so is your office. If there are other young ladies of your quality sitting at home and knitting socks for soldiers, kindly go and recruit them.’

  ‘I’m a little busy at the moment,’ said Elissa. ‘Do you have the distributive list?’

  ‘Yes. There. Take it.’ Three separate lists lay on the right-hand side of his desk. He indicated the first one. Picking it up, she looked at it. It embraced a whole spectrum of recipients down to company commanders.

  ‘It’s a long list,’ she said.

  ‘Is it?’ Major Kirsten seemed abstracted. ‘Are you tired?’

  ‘Not yet, Herr Major,’ she said. Her voice was always pleasant and even.

  ‘Well, I am.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, regarding his drawn look with concern. His sound left eye showed the light of amusement at her little frown. ‘You’ve been working all hours, Herr Major.’

  ‘So has everyone else.’ He leaned back in his chair. He felt mentally fatigued. The war and its problems were draining his mind of its vitality. He felt old. He also felt he looked old. He thought about his little estate in Saxony. He was not much good for anything except walking around it, nor did it hold the completeness it had when his wife was alive. All the same, it was a peaceful place. It would provide him with all the interest and pleasure necessary to enjoy his years of retirement. ‘Elissa,’ he said, again a little far away, ‘this is our last chance.’

  Elissa’s delicate flush at this, his first use of her Christian name, went unseen by the reflective major, for which she was grateful. Because she was regarded as cool and efficient, few people knew how shy she was and how much effort it had cost her to volunteer for the Women’s Army Corps. The daughter of a Munich civil servant, she had been a bookshop assistant for several years when a totally foreign impulse to join the Corps took hold of her. She wrestled with it for days before finally making her nervous way to the recruiting centre. But she was glad now she had made the effort. She was gradually being cured of the worst of her shyness, while serving the war effort in the most direct way she could.

  ‘Major, you’re thinking of General Ludendorff’s offensive,’ she said.

  ‘Is there anyone here who isn’t?’ said the major. ‘You’ve seen as many figures as I have, you know the manpower and armament required. This could be our last offensive of any importance. If we fail, we’re kaput. The Americans will be in the field by then. Millions of them, all healthy, fresh and eager. War to them will be what it was to us in 1914, a great patriotic adventure.’

  ‘Was it that, Major – an adventure?’ Elissa knew she ought to return to her work, but she was always prepared to listen to Major Kirsten. He could be ironic about some things, and withering in the face of stupidity, but she thought him a fair and just man. ‘Could war ever be considered an adventure?’

  ‘It was a rousing, roaring, exhilarating adventure for our armies in 1914, a mighty blow struck for the Fatherland.’ Major Kirsten smiled and extracted a cigarette from his chased silver case, using his one hand dexterously. He fumbled just a little in his striking of a match. Elissa, watching him, did not attempt to strike it for him. ‘That adventure, Lieutenant, fell to pieces after only a few weeks. It turned into a conflict crucifying for Germany. We’re close to exhausting our manpower. We can’t replace losses. If General Ludendorff’s offensive fails to make the breakthrough, I think that will signal the beginning of the end. Clemenceau of France, their tiger, will then tear off what little meat is left on Germany’s bones. I hope, however, he’ll leave my bones alone. I’ve a little country house in Saxony, with some land, that will suit me very well to grow old in.’

  ‘General Ludendorff doesn’t like losing battles,’ said Elissa.

  ‘Who does?’

  ‘I mean, he’s reputed to have a very positive approach, and to regard setbacks as a challenge, not a prelude to defeat.’ Elissa made the comment like a citizen who still had faith and belief. ‘Herr Major, are you being pessimistic?’

  ‘I thought I was merely being candid. But candour, I suppose, can sound like pessimism.’ Major Kirsten sat up. ‘Lieutenant, a matter unconnected with the offensive requires my attention. I’m taking a car and driving to the Douai area. I may be away a couple of days.’

  ‘Yes, Major,’ said Elissa in her unquestioning way. ‘Shall I ask Corporal Hirsch to report to you?’

  ‘Corporal Hirsch?’ The major, deep in new thought, sounded as if she had tossed in an irrelevance.

  ‘He’s your usual driver, Herr Major.’

  ‘Corporal Hirsch?’ said Major Kirsten again. ‘No, I shall drive myself.’

  ‘Major?’ said Elissa gently.

  He came to.

  ‘Heavens,’ he said, ‘what an idiot I am. Would you think I could forget the Somme was my Trafalgar?’

  ‘Major,’ smiled Elissa, ‘the English Admiral Nelson did not lose his arm at Trafalgar.’

  ‘Quite right, he didn’t. He lost his life. End of Admiral Nelson.’ Major Kirsten reconsidered things. ‘Very well, I can’t drive the car myself, but I don’t think I’ll call on Corporal Hirsch.’ He regarded Elissa with an interest that aroused her sensitivity. ‘Tell me, can you drive a car?’

  ‘Of course, Herr Major. I was among several recruits who took driving instruction. I have my certificate.’

  ‘Good.’ Major Kirsten became brisk, his tired look vanishing. ‘Lieutenant, you and I are going on a little hunting expedition. You shall drive and I’ll explain as we go along. Pass that distributive list to your sergeant. She’s quite capable. Be ready to leave in five minutes.’

  ‘Five minutes?’ Elissa’s manufactured calm was slipping away. ‘But I’ve so much work –’

  ‘Hand it over to your staff. I’ve General von Feldermann’s authority to take two days off. You’ve my authority to accompany me.’

  ‘Two days? We are to drive about on an unscheduled exercise for two days?’ Elissa was distinctly flushed. ‘But –’

  ‘But?’ said Major Kirsten.

  Her colour deepened. She was not sure if he knew precisely what he was about after weeks of overwork. And there were WAC regulations to be considered. They did not permit her to spend two days alone in the company of a male officer unless the circumstances were of a kind that made the situation unavoidable. And two days could not pass without two nights intervening.

  ‘Major, the irregularity of such a thing – I really don’t know – that is, I’m not sure –’

  ‘Good heavens.’ Major Kirsten looked at her flushed face in mild surprise. ‘Action of a very confidential nature is what you and I are about to undertake, Lieutenant, and it will clear away our cobwebs.’

  ‘But the regulations –’

  ‘Regulations are sometimes unimportant,’ said Major Kirs
ten cheerfully. ‘Whatever our own opinions are of our worthiness, against the present background of the war we are both figures of monumental insignificance. At least, I am. I need you to drive the car for me, and I need your intelligence. Five minutes, Lieutenant. Bring what you feel you must, although with any luck we’ll be back here perhaps by tonight, or tomorrow morning. I’ll meet you outside.’ He smiled. ‘Jump to it, Elissa.’

  Excitement flooded her. Her hazel eyes grew bright.

  ‘Yes, Major.’ She almost flew from his office.

  Captain Vorster was in Douai. Douai offered him nothing, for all his searching and questioning. But then, it did not occur to him to call on Colonel Hoffner, the commandant of the town. Captain Vorster was methodical, but not brilliant. He felt he would have to drive back to Valenciennes and begin his questioning search all over again. He was not enjoying his role. He had failure on his mind. He also felt that chasing after a runaway girl in wartime was not the kind of thing any staff officer should have to engage in, even if she was his general’s daughter.

  Chapter Four

  AT A MOMENT when they had left the infuriated German soldiers well behind, Sophia broke her cold silence to say, ‘You’re making grave mistakes this morning.’

  ‘Unfortunately, mademoiselle,’ said Captain Marsh, eyes constantly searching the road ahead, ‘I’m a man of many imperfections and accordingly make all kinds of mistakes. I made one today in letting Richtofen cut me out.’

  Sophia knew this situation could not go on. She drew a deep breath and said, ‘I am going to tell you something that I hope will bring you to your senses and help you avoid making your worst mistake of all. I am not French, I am German. I am the daughter of General von Feldermann.’

  ‘Oh, my God,’ said Captain Marsh.

  ‘Perhaps I should have let you know that at once, but perhaps I did not because I wished to escape being shot.’

  ‘Shot?’ Captain Marsh, startled by her revelation, sounded as if he was being left behind in the dialogue. ‘Shot?’