“Do it, then,” Gerhard insisted.
“We can’t do it here,” the young woman objected. “It isn’t sanitary, and we have no instruments.”
“He is not going to the hospital. We will not be taken as prisoners.”
“But—”
Placing his hand on her shoulder, the doctor interrupted his cousin’s protest. “Nora, he can’t be moved. He’s too weak. Here, take this.” He efficiently wrote a note and handed it to her. “Run back to the hospital and collect the items I’ve listed. Come back as quickly as you can.”
“But … Pierre.”
“Go!”
“Very well,” she said, snatching the note and marching out the door.
Gerhard followed her to the door. In the street, she raced back to the hospital, one hand raised to hold her straw hat in place, the blue ribbons fluttering in her wake. When she was out of sight, Gerhard returned to the bedroom.
In his desperation, he felt compelled to trust the two strangers. Time passed slowly for him, as it had when he was in the crater, trying to staunch the flow of Otto’s bright red blood.
“I’m sorry,” he said to the doctor. “I don’t mean to keep you from your home. But my friend was shot a week ago, and I can’t let him die.” Tears began to spill from Gerhard’s eyes. “I couldn’t save the others. I must save Otto. I must take him home.”
The muzzle of the Mauser drooped as he swiped the tears from his face. He jerked it level again.
“No apology is necessary,” the doctor responded, leaning against a wall. “Your friend would be better off in the hospital, but I understand your concern. Nora will return shortly, and I will do what I can to help him.” He pointed to a chair. “Why don’t you rest for a moment, Captain? I’ll need your help to secure your mate when Nora returns.”
“I can’t sit. It hurts too much,” Gerhard mumbled, peering at the doctor under long, dark lashes. His cheeks pinked with embarrassment.
The doctor turned his gaze from Otto to Gerhard, and only then saw the dried blood on the back of Gerhard’s coat and trousers, the rents in the fabric not visible because of the blood caked on the skin beneath.
“Let me have a look at that,” he said, pushing the muzzle of the revolver out of the way and walking behind Gerhard. He probed the two lower wounds, and then the third one in Gerhard’s arm. Gerhard jerked and winced, but made no sound.
“Shrapnel?” he asked.
Gerhard nodded. “I think the piece that hit my arm sliced straight through. The pieces in my back and arse hurt most. Walking is difficult.”
“I noticed your limp earlier. Now I understand why. I can dress your injuries. Neither piece of metal seems to be deeply embedded in the tissue. If you can handle a little more pain and discomfort, I should be able to dig them out before my cousin returns.”
Pointing to a nearby chest of drawers, he invited Gerhard to remove his coat, drop his trousers, and lean into the chest for support.
“I’m going to clean the sites, remove the metal, and stitch you up. It won’t be pleasant now, but you’ll feel better in a few days. Do you think you can tolerate the pain?” he asked.
Gerhard nodded curtly.
“I’ll have a look at that gash on your forehead, too. Headaches? Loss of vision?”
“Not so bad now,” Gerhard winced in response to the doctor’s probing fingers. “Headaches were bad for the first few days. My vision blurred then, too, but both seem to have alleviated.”
“What about thought process? Are you feeling a little muddle-headed?”
“In the beginning, I did. Trying to find the things I needed to get Otto away from the fighting was a challenge. I couldn’t think straight,” Gerhard said.
“And now?” the doctor invited.
“Well … I guess I’m thinking more clearly, but … well, I suppose food might help sort that matter. I have three mouths to feed, and haven’t been so fortunate to find … enough,” he finished, wondering whether there would ever be enough.
By the time Nora returned with the listed items, Gerhard had fastened his trousers and buttoned his coat, thankful that she had not witnessed his discomfiture.
Together, she and the doctor reassessed Otto’s condition, positioned him for treatment, and set about removing his left knee and lower leg. Gerhard held his friend’s left leg still, while Nora cradled Otto’s head in her hands and spoke reassuringly into his unhearing ear.
The cousins stayed with the two soldiers long enough to satisfy themselves that they had done everything they could to help. They took their leave mid-afternoon and wished the soldiers a safe journey home. Otto’s condition was stable, and Gerhard had instructions for his care, including directions to the nearest train station.
Gerhard thanked them both profusely for their kindness and apologized for using his revolver to coerce them. “Your kindness will always be remembered, Doctor …” Gerhard paused, inviting the doctor to give his surname.
“Depage. Pierre Depage. It was my pleasure, Captain …” pausing as Gerhard had done, waiting for a name.
“Gerhard Lange,” he answered, extending his hand first to the doctor and then to Nora. “Thank you both.”
Gerhard inhaled unexpectedly as his fingers folded around the softness of Nora’s graceful hand. Long fingers, like a pianist’s, and her hair falls like a golden waterfall around her shoulders. Her eyes …
Nora made a small squeaking sound in her throat and gently extracted her hand in that awkward way one does when removing a hand from a distasteful substance. She smiled at him nonetheless.
“Oh! My apologies, Fraulein.” He dropped his hand, realizing he had held hers overlong. Nora lowered her gaze, blushing, but the smile remained.
Dr. Depage bent to retrieve his medical bag and hat, then placed his hand on Nora’s back. “Come along, cousin; we must get home. I’m sure we’re being missed, and we don’t want anyone to worry.”
“Of course!” Gerhard exclaimed, realizing the consequence of his actions.
The doctor placed his hand on Gerhard’s arm. “No harm done, friend, but we should get home.”
Nora distracted Gerhard from his apology when she placed the straw hat on her head once again.
Cornflower blue, he thought, escorting the young couple to the front of the abandoned house. He waited as they walked briskly to the corner of the intersection, where Nora glanced over her left shoulder. Then they rounded a corner and disappeared.
Gerhard chewed a ration of fresh bread and cheese that Nora had thought to bring with the supplies, his worry for Otto diminishing his appreciation of the fresh food.
He stowed the remainder for later, then he rested on the plank floor next to Otto, keeping watch over him until nightfall.
Otto’s groan woke him, leaving him with a memory of pools of cornflower blue and peace—Nora’s eyes. If ever this war ends, I’ll find those eyes again, he promised himself.
The respite and food strengthened Gerhard. He harnessed the mule and loaded the cart with their rifles and ammunition, and the food and medical supplies provided by the Depage cousins.
Otto’s fever had dropped. He was coherent when Gerhard explained that his lower left leg had been removed and it was time to move on.
“My boot. Must keep my boot. Your father warned …” Otto mumbled, struggling with delirium.
Gerhard squeezed Otto’s shoulder. “Sorry, brother. We did our best, but the boot didn’t make it. Let it go. Vater will understand.”
Otto cried out once as Gerhard lifted him to a standing position, wrapping Otto’s left arm over his shoulder and holding it fast in his left hand. His right hand snaked around Otto’s back and clutched his belt, holding him close.
Otto tried to help using his right leg for support, but quickly became a dead weight when he passed out.
Grateful that his friend was beyond pain for a few minutes, Gerhard dragged Otto the remaining distance to the cart and loaded him onto it as gently as he could. Otto’s face was pa
le with loss of blood and shock, looking more like the full moon than Gerhard would have liked.
He pulled the blankets gently over Otto to keep him warm, covering his face to block the bright moonlight.
Slipping his fingers through the mule’s halter, Gerhard encouraged it to follow him into the night once again, and as they walked, he pondered his next move. The warmth of an evening breeze caressed his cheek. It must be summer, Gerhard marvelled, and I need a bath. His nose wrinkled in distaste. He was embarrassed to think that Nora had seen him so unkempt.
The train station was on the other side of town. Nora had provided clear directions as she drew, in her neat hand, a map on a scrap of paper taken from Dr. Depage’s prescription pad. His ears yearned to hear more of the sweetness that escaped her lips, but the description was brief.
He had no need for a map, but took it as a remembrance. He felt for the pocket that held the map and let his hand rest there for a moment, thinking of Nora and her cornflower blue eyes.
Travel was slow. The streets were narrowed by debris, and the unevenness of the cobblestones jolted the cart. Otto moaned from time to time, but did not wake up. Gerhard was anxious to reach the train station and medical aid while Otto slept.
At the train station, he found personnel from the Wounded Transportation Section who inspected his wounds and Otto’s amputation, and agreed that they could be removed to Germany by Lazarettzug. The hospital train would take them to the nearest Reservelazaretten, a German reserve hospital, for further monitoring and recovery.
“You won’t be needing the mule, sir. We’ll take care of it.”
“Thanks,” Gerhard said, tying the reins to a nearby post.
CHAPTER FIVE
TWO ORDERLIES MOVED Otto to a stretcher and carried him through the station with care. Gerhard limped behind, following them to the platform.
“You timed it well, Captain,” one of the medics said. “The next Lazarettzug is scheduled to depart in twenty minutes.”
Steam hissed along the tracks, and a whistle shrieked the train’s imminent departure. “We’re just finishing the loading. There’s space for you both in the last car.”
Hours later, Otto and Gerhard were taken to the nearest Reservelazaretten for reassessment and intermediate care. Orders were issued for Otto’s relocation to a hospital closer to regimental headquarters in Dresden.
“You still have seepage from your wounds, Captain,” noted a triage doctor on their arrival, “and you should be examined thoroughly to ensure all of the shrapnel has been removed. It’s difficult to determine the extent of your injuries through all that filth!” he said, chuckling. “Once you’ve bathed, I’ll have another look. In the meantime, I’m sending you to Dresden as well. We’ll want you healed before you return to active duty.”
“Yes, Doctor.” Gerhard bashfully acknowledged the suggestion that he bathe, secretly glad that he was being sent to Dresden. I need a reprieve from this hell!
“By the way, did a field doctor perform Captain Schmidt’s amputation?”
“No,” Gerhard responded. “Doctor Pierre Depage performed it. In Brussels.”
“Pierre Depage, you say? Son of Doctor Antoine Depage?”
Gerhard shrugged his lack of knowledge. “The name Depage means something to you?”
“Yes, yes. Antoine Depage is one of the best! I have no doubt Pierre Depage was taught well, if he is indeed the son of Doctor Antoine Depage. Beautiful work, it is. Captain Schmidt is a lucky man. His wounds will heal well, in time. I can assure you”—the doctor emphasized his diagnosis with a nod—“those who’ve had amputations in the field were not always so lucky.”
Before Otto was released from the hospital, he was fitted with crutches, giving him some independence and mobility. Within the week, they had clearance and orders. They would board the next Lazarettzug heading east to Dresden, where they would both be reassessed.
At the hospital in Dresden, Otto was detained overnight so that he could be fitted for an artificial limb.
Gerhard took advantage of the delay to report to regimental headquarters. He showed the order written by his commander and requested that he be allowed to return home for his convalescence and a short furlough.
The next day, he returned to the hospital, where he found a much-improved Otto.
When Gerhard entered Otto’s room, Otto fluttered a sheet of paper at him. “I have orders to report to the hospital in Liegnitz,” he said. “I can convalesce at home while I wait for an artificial limb.” He smiled meekly at Gerhard, saying, “We’re going home, brother.”
The train ride was long, hot and dusty, but at least they were moving homeward. In Dresden, they transferred to another train that took them directly to Liegnitz.
When they finally arrived at the train station from which they had departed some two years earlier, Otto used his new crutches to hobble to a nearby bench, and Gerhard went off to find transport for the final stretch home.
It was quiet in the station. The sun was hinting at its decline in the late summer sky. The only person to be found in the station was the clerk at the ticket window.
“I’m sorry, sir. I’m just closing up,” he apologized. “Heading home for dinner. And I’m sure you know it’s rare to see a transport of any kind these days,” he said, giving “fuel rations” as an excuse. “I do, however, have a bicycle. If you think the two of you can use it, you’re welcome to it. It’s a short walk home for me, anyway.”
“What about the telephone? Perhaps I can call home?” Gerhard asked.
“Again, I’m sorry, sir. The telephone lines have been out for two days. A small forest fire just outside of town took out several poles and broke the line. Supposed to be repaired by tomorrow,” the clerk replied, letting his earlier offer dangle.
“Then we’ll borrow your bicycle with thanks,” Gerhard said, relieved that Otto would not have to walk home on his crutches. “I’ll bring it back tomorrow, if that’s all right?”
“Take your time,” the clerk said. “There’s no urgency.”
Otto balanced himself on the seat of the rusty, black bicycle, clutching his crutches across his lap to provide counter-weight and keep them clear of the spokes. With the other hand, he kept a firm hold of the belt cinched through Gerhard’s trousers.
Gerhard pedalled them out of town, along the country roads toward the lake and home.
It was a lovely evening for a bicycle ride along country lanes, and they joked briefly that it would be better done with a pretty girl on the crossbar. The sun was warm on their backs, the air sweetened by ripening grain. Although evening birds twittered and chased insects recently hatched by the heat of the day, it was quiet; unnervingly quiet, so far away from the battle lines.
Otto broke the silence, startling Gerhard. “Do you remember when we were kids? Riding our bicycles everywhere. Fishing in the estate’s lake. Our little sisters, Marie and Emma, trying to keep up with us. It was always Emma’s idea to follow us, you know. She was sweet on you then, and still is.”
“So you keep telling me,” Gerhard said, expressing frustration at Otto’s last comment. “If I had a pfennig for every time you’ve said that over the past fifteen years …”
“Well, it’s true. I think she’s been in love with you from the time she could walk! Maybe even longer!” Otto’s grin filled his face. “So, are you going to ask her to marry you?”
“Wha—?” Gerhard panted as he pedalled harder up a small rise in the dusty road. “For a guy as thin as you, you sure weigh a lot! Even minus that leg!”
“Emma. Are you going to ask her tonight?” The question hung on a sun passing its zenith.
“No. Not tonight. As soon as I get you billeted, I’m heading home. I need to see my family as much as you need yours.”
“There! There it is.” Otto pointed his crutches in the direction they travelled. His sudden movement sent the bicycle wobbling, and Gerhard struggled to recover his control.
More softly, almost in awe, Otto sighe
d. “Home.”
Gerhard felt the stiffness drain from his friend’s body.
“I never thought I’d see home again. Danke, Kapitän,” he said with sincerity, his eyes glassy with emotion, “for bringing me home.”
“Nein. It is I who should be thanking you, for saving me from a lonely journey home.” Gerhard responded, checking his emotions under a shaky grin. Of the ten young men who departed the station almost two years ago, only two were returning. Such a loss, not only to me, but to their families and our community.
The brown-stuccoed farmhouse trimmed in red brick and white window accents grew into view as Gerhard’s legs pumped harder, faster. Before they could speak again, Gerhard was resting the bicycle against the farmhouse and helping his friend dismount onto his crutches.
A black-and-white cat sunning itself on a nearby window ledge rose, stretched, and mewed annoyance at them. Twitching its tail, it jumped into the soft earth below and scooted into a nearby field to be lost from view in a forest of corn stalks.
Otto balanced himself on his crutches, preparing to take the first step. Panting from the exertion, Gerhard leaned toward Otto to help him up two steps to the front door.
“Nein,” Otto said harshly. The rigidity of his body conveyed his need for independence. More softly he added, “I need to learn to do this myself. May as well start now. Are you sure you won’t come in for a bit?”
“Thanks. No. You go ahead. I’ll come by in a couple of days.”
“You might want to clean up a bit in the meantime. Maybe a steam bath to soak out the dirt. And shave the whiskers. If you’re going to propose to my sister, you won’t want to look like a hairy gorilla,” Otto said, teasing him.
Gerhard embraced his friend and waited while he hobbled up the steps and turned the doorknob.
“Hello in the house! Anyone home?” Otto shouted. He flashed one last smile at Gerhard as a squeal of voices rose from inside and he clumsily closed the door behind him.
The Crest Page 3