Larry knelt down beside Maria and held her in his arms. She was breathing heavy but was not sobbing, although she clung tightly to him. He realized that throughout the ordeal she had not cried out, must have known instinctively that any distraction could jeopardize his ability to deal with the situation. What bravery and trust, he thought, must reside in this petite woman who had been through so much in her young life. "God, how I love her," he said to himself as he held her even tighter.
"I'm OK, they didn't do anything. Do what you have to." He hesitated, still embracing her, but she removed his arms and started to stand, repeating her declarations.
Larry, too, stood, held her face tenderly and kissed her lips, then her forehead, then hugged her a final time before returning to where Max lay, blood trickling from his head and nose. Maria joined him, and while they stood there looking down, his gasping respirations ceased, the huge chest deflating with his final breath. The silence lasted only seconds, the snapping of twigs sounding in their ears as the one remaining bandit made a dash for freedom. Larry turned but made no move to pursue him. Enough for one day. More than enough.
"Are you really all right?" he asked, holding Maria gently by the shoulders.
"When we stop for the night this blouse will need a little work, but I'm not hurt. Truly." She tucked in her blouse and closed it as best as she could, then retrieved her jacket and fastened it so that the damage was not visible.
Through the trees they could see the last of the column of soldiers passing by, a troop truck and a jeep bringing up the rear. Larry used leaves to wipe the blood from the plutonium, then quickly searched the bodies for anything that might be of use. A few potatoes, one tin of beef, the hunting knife and a small spool of cotton thread were the only items of use. By the time they gathered and stowed their belongings it was safe to leave their retreat, and they emerged from the woods to resume their flight to freedom.
The rest of the day was uneventful, although Larry set a quick pace, wanting to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the two bodies lying in the woods. He was not overly concerned about the one who ran away. It was unlikely he could do anything on his own, and even more unlikely that he would try to report it to the authorities since they were certainly criminals and probably army deserters besides. In addition, the infrastructure of German society was starting to crumble, and he would be hard pressed to even find someone who cared. Larry's only real concern was that they might have had comrades who would be interested in extracting revenge. Possible but not likely, he thought. Still, acutely aware of his obligation to protect Maria, he decided it was worth trying to hitch a ride if he could find someone heading their way. A few kilometers down the road, an opportunity presented itself in the form of an older couple in a small horse drawn wagon, its back piled with what looked like assorted junk and a small amount of produce. Both the man and his wife seemed to be cut from the same mold, each of short stature, stout but not fat, and with the ruddy complexion of people who worked outdoors. They had just finished watering their horses from a trough at the edge of the road next to a rapidly flowing stream, and they smiled pleasantly as Larry and Maria came alongside, responding courteously to their greeting and readily pausing to talk with Maria, seemingly eager for the chance to engage in conversation. Frieda and Josef were itinerants, a cross between the tinkers of earlier days and traveling merchants, going from city to town, selling assorted items and offering their services —— Josef as a general handyman and Frieda as a seamstress, cleaning woman and general laborer. There was not a great need for what they offered, but they were able to eke out a meager living, often taking food or other items in trade and then selling or bartering them for their own necessities. It was a Spartan existence, often difficult and tiring, but in spite of this they were better off than many and still retained their self-respect and their independence, and were able to spend their days together; companionship of which they never tired. Maria and Larry felt an instant kinship with the wandering pair and they, in turn, seemed to take a liking to Maria and Larry, perhaps seeing in the younger couple a reflection of themselves at an earlier time.
When Larry asked if they might ride with them a while, Josef replied, "If you move some of that stuff in the back around, there should be room for you. Your woman can ride up front with us."
Friendly feelings aside, business being business, Frieda added, "We'll have to charge you something. The horses will be more tired and will need extra food and rest. Do you have anything to trade?"
Maria reached into her pack and pulled out the tin of meat. "Will this do?"
Frieda looked like she was about to say something but her husband chimed in, "That'll be fine."
Fleetingly, her expression appeared stern as she turned to face Josef, then, seeing the look on his face, it softened into a smile and she held out her hand to Maria. "Here, dear, let me help you up."
With Larry and Maria on board, Josef nudged his horses forward and they continued on the road, heading south. Fortunately for the younger couple there were hardly any towns along this stretch of road, and therefore little incentive for their hosts to stop and ply their trade. There was one small Hamlet where the couple called on several houses, but there was no work for them so they continued their trek until nightfall, pulling off the road into a meadow dotted with trees and scattered large boulders where they intended to camp for the night. Larry and Maria were invited to join them at their campsite, and since it seemed to be mutually beneficial for both parties, providing companionship and protection for them all, an agreement was reached whereby they would stay together until the next day when the couple were due to arrive at a town of some population that would occupy them for at least a day, possibly more. Once there, Larry and Maria would continue on their way.
Ample firewood lay scattered about, and Larry helped Josef gather a supply for the night, offering to do the chopping necessary to cut the larger pieces down to size. Maria and Frieda unloaded cooking utensils and a few stools before each taking a bucket and walking a short distance along a path to fetch water from a nearby stream. While there, Maria pulled several potatoes from her pack and washed them in the rapidly flowing water. When they returned Josef was already tending a fire while Larry finished cutting the remainder of the wood.
Frieda had a few beets and some cabbage, and this, along with the potatoes as well as a small sausage contributed by Maria would, they all agreed, make a very nice stew. The women cut and prepared the ingredients while an old black kettle of water sat on the fire, its contents slowly coming to a boil. Larry helped the older man organize and stow the jumbled array of items that filled the wagon, the cast off or bartered objects that formed the common tender of his enterprise.
Soon they were sitting around the fire, the aroma of dinner wafting towards them from the slowly simmering pot, picking up threads of conversation that had started earlier. Larry explained that he was trying to return to Italy, accompanied by his new wife, to see if he could find the family he had left behind, an explanation that was accepted by the older couple as perfectly reasonable. When asked, Maria said that she was the orphan of a father who died in combat and a mother who was killed by a misguided bomb. The latter was not exactly true, although from a metaphorical sense, it was pretty close.
"You know," broke in Josef, "the wife and I consider ourselves to be loyal Germans, proud of our country and what we've accomplished, but I can't say that either of us think this war's done very much for our people."
"Hush, now 'Sef'," his wife retorted, "these nice young folks might not agree with your views."
"That's OK, we feel the way you do," said Maria.
Frieda looked relieved and her husband resumed. "I don't mean that just because were losing. Even if we had won, what could we do with all the people from the countries we'd taken over? You can't keep huge populations like that enslaved for long; look at history, it just can't be done. Not to mention the fact that it's just plain wrong despite what Hitler and
his generals say. It's true the rest of Europe has treated us unfairly since the end of the last war, but there's got to be a better solution than this." The others nodded their agreement, none, however, wishing to say much more, for such political discussions rarely accomplished anything and, despite their assertions of like mindedness, there still lurked a fear of betrayal under the patina of camp camaraderie. So things fell silent while they sat around the fire, waiting for Frieda to declare the stew ready.
In the warmth from the flames Maria unfastened her jacket, and Frieda's keen eyes saw the damage to her blouse, remarking as she did so, "Oh, my dear, what happened?"
"I tore it on a branch when we were foraging in the woods. I have some thread, but no needle."
"After we eat I'll fix that for you." Her feminine eye noticed how Maria moved closer to Larry and she realized there was more unsaid, and that whatever happened had not been pleasant. For Frieda, the war was a more personal thing, measured not so much by battlefield casualties, than by all the horrors endured by the civilians. "Don't you worry, dear, I'll fix it for you." And her heart went out to the young woman whose eyes spoke words that could not be spoken out loud.
In the morning they said their farewells, wished the older couple good luck in obtaining work, and thanked them for what they had done. Josef and Frieda, in return, said that they prayed for a safe journey to Italy with the hope that Larry would be united with his family.
Setting a moderate pace, Larry figured that they would reach the Austrian border before nightfall, and overnight close to the rendezvous point, completing the last few miles in the morning.
As they walked they made small talk, and twice Maria spoke as if there would be a life for the two of them once they reached safety, and both times Larry refused to follow her thread, changing the subject, not willing to talk about what could never be —— whether to make things easier for Maria or for himself, he wasn't sure. He just knew that there was a limit to the pain he could endure. Several small military units passed by, Larry and Maria moving deferentially to the side of the road, avoiding the eyes of the soldiers who, for the most part, also looked down, not anxious to face their fellow countrymen in defeat. Once, they passed a small group of tank men on the side of the road, resting and eating next to their metal chariot, the latter draped in camouflage netting and adorned with branches and greenery against marauding aircraft. Maria locked her arm tightly in Larry's as they came abreast of the small group, and when one of them looked up from his meal, the couple nodded at the beleaguered looking young soldier who, disinterested, nodded back in a perfunctory manner before turning a desolate face back to his tin mess kit. Larry could feel a tremble in Maria's arm, try as she might to hide it, and the shaking did not stop until they had left the group of soldiers a kilometer behind them. No words were exchanged; none were needed. And Maria saw no reason to mention to Larry that one of the men looked like one of those who had tried to rape her.
By the time the sun was low in the west they had crossed into Austria although one would not know it without being familiar with the territory, there being no sign welcoming the traveler to the "land of Mozart," no border checkpoint, and, in essence, no noticeable difference at all. The small inn that they found was just as empty as the one they had stayed at the first night, and the proprietor just as happy to use the barter system, for the populace was fast losing confidence in the German Mark, especially here, close to the ever shrinking front. The remainder of their food was sufficient to get them a bed for the night, Larry holding back a small amount for dinner and a little bread for the morning, since the owner, a grizzled old man, was in no mood to prepare any meals. He sat at a small table nursing a beer, a morose look on his face as he talked quietly to the one other patron, an equally weathered man with an overly long shock of unexpected black hair. When Larry and Maria had finished their Spartan dinner and approached the owner, he barely looked up, simply pointed to a hallway and said, "Upstairs, first door on the left."
The mood for the two of them had also turned somber, the end of their journey in sight, and with it, an end to more than a trip. For Larry it was a portend of cessation of life in the absolute physical sense, and for Maria it was an end to a kind of life that had not yet begun for her, one that had only been conjured in her most fervent hopes and dreams. With a kiss and an embrace they crawled into bed and awaited the morning, sleep being elusive for them both.
They awoke to the sound of tanks rumbling by on the nearby road, the sun barely over the horizon. A few bites finished the remainder of the bread, and a few minutes sufficed to dress and gather their meager belongings, the plutonium being the only thing of any real value that they possessed. No one awaited them when they crossed the main room on the ground floor, and they passed quietly through without the necessity of a goodbye, reaching the main road in two minutes. To the north a column of dust marked the progress of the column of tanks. They turned to the south and several hours of rapid walking brought them to the outskirts of Hohenems where they were to look for a concrete obelisk with the year 1848 chiseled in it, a commemoration of some historic event. At the monument they had to head west, a short hike to the Swiss border.
"Look," Larry said, "around that bend, sticking out over the trees."
Maria followed his gaze. "Yes, I see it." Protruding over the roof of a shed and low pines was the angled top of a gray obelisk. Instinctively they picked up the pace, quickly rounding the curve in the road, only to stop dead in their tracks. For Larry, instincts kicked in and he immediately resumed walking, but at a more leisurely appearing gait, although he had to forcibly pull along Maria, who seemed frozen in place. It was the sight of a squad of SS troops, on bivouac around the base of the monument, that had sent splinters of fear into the two.
"Hold yourself together, we can't stop; that's bound to arouse suspicion. I know it's difficult. Just keep talking to me in a casual sort of way, and force yourself to walk as if nothing was the matter."
"They scare me so. They didn't use to."
"That's it. We're just talking about the weather or where we can get some coal for the stove. It's just a little early morning walk for us."
"OK, so where would we get coal for the stove." She forced a smile.
"Very good. As a matter of fact, there is no coal to be had; that's why so many people are chopping down trees. We're almost up to them, soon we'll be past and then we can take a little detour to bypass them and we're off to Switzerland." Unfortunately, that was not to be the case.
As they came abreast of the troops, a corporal and two privates separated from the group and positioned themselves in their path, the corporal indicating that they should stop.
"Good morning. Your papers please."
"We were attacked and robbed a day ago," Maria said in her most sorrowful and plaintive voice. "They stole our papers and they tried to ... to rape me." Tears welled up in her eyes and she clung to Larry. She hoped that crying would create sympathy for their plight, although the tears had come unbidden, a sign of the emotions that she could barely constrain.
"Wait here." The corporal turned and strode to a cluster of soldiers standing by the side of the road, where he spoke to one of the men, before continuing to a staff car parked next to the troop truck. Larry's eyes followed him, and he was surprised to see that even an SS squad consisted mainly of old men and young boys with what appeared to be a few seasoned veterans standing about. The corporal bent down and spoke into the open window of the car, then took a step back, opening it and snapping to attention. A pair of black boots appeared, followed by the frame of a six-foot tall officer, a general in the SS, who turned back to the car, holding out his arm for the other passenger.
In the meantime, several additional members of the squad surrounded the hapless couple, relieving them of their packs and ushering them to the car, a soldier taking hold of each of their arms and urging them forward. Maria's legs were weak, the troops having to support her as much as move her forward. Larry's quick ap
praisal indicated there was no chance for any action on his part that would lead to anything short of tragedy. Best to see where things led, although he held out little hope that any kind of deal could be worked out that didn't involve their death. It was merely a matter of what kind of death it would be.
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