by Jane Healey
We sat quietly, warming up by the fire, sipping red wine. A silent, uneasy truce.
After a few minutes, the older soldier took a sip of wine and pointed to Colonel Brooks.
“What happened?” he asked.
Hoffman explained what had happened in the accident, and the tension in the air finally started to evaporate.
“I am a medical student, or I was. Before,” he said, frowning as he looked at the colonel. “Do you want me to take a look?”
“Yes,” Dottie said before any of us could protest. Hoffman looked at her, horrified.
“He needs more care. Tonight, it can’t wait,” Dottie said. “We have a first aid kit; he needs stitches, but I can’t . . . none of us are nurses.” She gave the German an agonized look.
“I gave him some morphine for the pain, and sulfa powder to prevent infection,” Hoffman said in defense, but after a pause he added, “but she’s right. I’m not a medic.”
“Get whatever first aid supplies you have,” the medical student said, standing up. “I’m Jens. This is Wolf and Axel.” He pointed to the tall, lanky soldier and the shorter, blonder one.
We all made our introductions, and it was like the air came back into the room and we could breathe again.
Jens and Hoffman gathered the first aid supplies and went over to tend to Colonel Brooks, who had begun to stir even more.
“Fritz, could you please get the colonel some water if he wakes? And maybe also some clean clothes for him?” I said. “Or I could if you’ll just tell me where . . .” But Fritz was already up and heading to the kitchen. Jens followed him to wash up.
“You were right, Dottie,” I said, as Jens took over and tended to the colonel.
“I’m afraid he might not make it through the night,” she said, sipping her wine by the fire next to Viv.
“Hopefully, he will now. God, I would sit in this fire if I could,” Viv said. “To be this warm again makes me want to cry.”
“That fact that it’s Christmas makes me so homesick,” Dottie said. “I miss my brothers and my parents so much.”
“I’m missing my niece Gianna’s first Christmas,” Viv said, tears in her eyes. “My sister may never forgive me.”
That melancholy feeling washed over me again, and I took a sip of wine and gave the two German soldiers an awkward smile as they observed our homesickness. I was sure they had absolutely no idea what we were saying. But when Fritz returned and sat down, they had questions.
“Seid ihr Soldatinnen?” asked Axel, as soon as he had a translator.
“Are you female soldiers? He wants to know,” said Fritz.
I explained that we were Red Cross, pointing to the patch on my arm.
Fritz translated, and then Axel spoke again.
“He wants to know if you came here on your own, or if your country made you come,” Fritz said.
“Tell him we were stupid enough to come on our own,” Viv said, smiling at Axel. “No, don’t tell him that; he won’t understand the sarcasm.”
“And ask him how old he is,” Dottie said. “He looks like he’s not even out of high school.”
Some more banter passed between the Germans, and then Fritz said, “They’re both sixteen years old. Jens is twenty-four. And they want to know why none of you are married because you look older and you’re all very pretty.” He was smiling, enjoying his role as translator.
“Dottie, I think you need to sing some Christmas carols,” Viv said, winking at them. “These boys have too many questions.”
And that’s when the young German soldiers, Axel and Wolf, fell in love with Viv.
“Maybe after dinner,” said Dottie.
“You sing?” Fritz said. “You have to sing some Christmas songs for us; my mother will love it. Music is her favorite thing in life.”
We talked to the young soldiers and Fritz for a while, sipping wine and warming ourselves by the fire, as Jens tended to the colonel.
“Fritz!” After almost two hours, Elisabeth finally peeked out of the kitchen and called to him.
As Fritz set the table, he told us all to find a seat. Wolf and Axel chose the chairs on either side of Viv, the rest of us sat down, and Hoffman and Jens came over just as Elisabeth was placing fragrant bowls of stew in front of all of us. Fritz brought out the bread and the rest of the wine as Elisabeth folded her hands in prayer and gave us all a warning look to do the same. She bowed her head, and we all followed suit.
“Gott, wir nehmen an diese Mahlzeit, aber lass uns nicht deine Gegenwart vergessen. Du segnest, weil du uns liebst, segne auch was du uns gibst. Bitte, Gott, an diesem Heiligabend beten wir für das Ende des Krieges. Amen.”
Fritz translated the prayer as soon as his mother finished: “God, as we partake of this meal, let us not forget your presence; bless us because you love us, bless also what you have given. Please, God, on this Christmas Eve, we pray for this horrible war to end. Amen.”
I made the sign of the cross and looked up, and my eyes weren’t the only ones glistening. We sat there for a quiet moment, our thoughts far away from this cottage in the middle of the Ardennes. Then the two younger soldiers thanked Elisabeth profusely as they reached for bread and started inhaling the food.
The first part of dinner, all you could hear was the quiet sound of spoons hitting bowls, as we were all too ravenous to even attempt polite discussion.
“Your colonel has lost a great deal of blood; his blood pressure is low,” Jens said in a quiet voice to me. “You’ll need to get him somewhere safe where he can get blood plasma, as well as rest and food. I’ll show you your best route out; you should leave before dawn.”
“Of course,” I said. “Thank you for taking care of him.”
“Bitte,” he said.
Fritz said something to the young soldiers in German and then looked at Viv.
“You never answered their question—why aren’t you all married?” He smiled mischievously.
“Tell them because all of the American men are in the war, obviously,” Viv said, shaking her head. “Fiona is engaged—her fiancé’s a prisoner of war over here. And Dottie has a fella in the Twenty-Eighth Infantry.”
“In the Twenty-Eighth? That’s where I’m from,” Hoffman said. “What’s his name?”
“My God, we didn’t even ask. I had no idea you were in the Twenty-Eighth,” I said.
“His name is Joe Brandon,” Dottie said, her voice trembling. I grabbed her hand. “Do you know if he’s okay? Please tell me you know something.”
The Germans all watched this exchange, and I knew it didn’t require translation.
“He’s okay,” Hoffman said. “The colonel and I were at the Twenty-Eighth’s divisional command post at Wiltz, Luxembourg, when it came under severe attack. Captain Brandon and the band took up arms. They dug foxholes, picked up carbines, and fought to hold the line and stop the German advance.” Hoffman looked at Jens uncomfortably when he said this. “Out of the sixty band members, there are only sixteen left.”
“Jesus,” Viv said. “Sixteen out of sixty.”
Fritz translated this story; the younger soldiers looked terrified when they heard the last part.
Dottie was smiling as she blotted her eyes with her napkin and waved her hand in front of her face, embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I’m just so relieved.” Elisabeth reached across the table, patted her on the shoulder, and nodded. Understanding without words.
“And where is your fiancé?” Fritz asked, looking at me.
“Last I heard, he was at a POW camp in East Prussia. Stalag Luft IV,” I said. It was a reality I still didn’t quite grasp.
Jens looked me in the eye when I said this, examining my face. “Thousands of lives interrupted,” he said, taking a sip of wine. “The Allies are advancing in that area; if they get too close, they will move the prisoners.”
“Move them where?” I said, feeling chilled at the thought.
“Anywhere the Allies can’t liberate them,” Jens said. And then, seeing the dis
traught look on my face, he added, “Try not to worry. This war will be over sooner, I think.”
He nodded at the younger soldiers, who were now talking to Fritz in German, telling him a story and laughing, their cheeks flushed from the red wine and the warmth of the fire.
“They’re sending these little boys to fight now,” Jens whispered, disgust in his voice. “Next it will be kindergartners.”
“I hope you’re right about it ending soon,” I said, my head hurting to think about somehow managing to get to East Prussia only to find that Danny had been moved somewhere else.
“Yes, me too. I am better at fixing men than . . . ,” he said.
“Dottie, you promised to sing,” Viv said. “For our hostess?”
“Yes, please,” Fritz said, thrilled at the idea. “By the fire.” He jumped up and started clearing the plates, and we all did the same, tripping over ourselves to thank Elisabeth for the first home-cooked meal we’d had in months.
We went to the Cheyenne to get Dottie’s guitar, our bedrolls, and sleeping bags. We handed a couple of the bags to Jens, Axel, and Wolf to share. We also presented Elisabeth with some ground coffee for her kindness. I wished we had more to give her.
“I’ll start with the most obvious choice,” Dottie said, giving her guitar a quick strum when we settled in around the fire, and then she started to sing “Silent Night.”
As Dottie sang, I looked over and Elisabeth had her hands clasped together on her red floral apron, tears streaming down her cheeks at the beauty of the voice and the song. The soldiers also seemed transfixed by Dottie’s beautiful voice. When she finished, we all clapped, and Fritz, Axel, and Wolf gave her a standing ovation.
“Okay, now something a little more upbeat, Dots, or I’m going to be an emotional wreck,” Viv said.
She was right: the song had made everyone a little gloomy. Dottie nodded in agreement and chose “Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer” next, and Fritz loved it so much he asked her to write down the words for him after she was done.
Then Axel and Wolf decided to get in on the act. They stood by the fire and sang a terrible version of “O Tannenbaum,” which we all cheered for anyway. We continued to sing Christmas songs, the evening a moment’s reprieve from the bitter-cold battle raging outside the door. Watching the German boys joke and laugh and try to sing with Dottie, I knew how desperately we all needed it.
After a couple of hours, I started yawning, and everyone realized that we had to get some sleep while we could. With the sleeping bags and bedrolls spread around the fireplace, I swear I fell asleep before my head hit the pillow. When I woke up a little while later, the candles were out, but the fire was still going. Everyone was fast asleep, Viv’s snoring the only sound in the silence. I looked over at the settee and saw the colonel sitting up, looking at me. He had been out cold through Dottie’s entire Christmas concert, but he was wide-awake now.
“Sir,” I whispered as I went over to him, “would you like some water?” I handed him the glass from the little table nearby. He nodded, his hand shaking as he drank it down in one gulp. I poured him some more out of the little yellow pitcher Elisabeth had left for us.
“Where the hell are we?” he said, frowning, his quiet voice hoarse and scratchy. He had bushy eyebrows and a face pockmarked by pimples from his youth. He wiped his hand across his cheeks and looked down at his bandages.
“Who are all these people? And who are you?”
I introduced myself and told him the story of the evening, and his eyes went wide when I got to the part about the Germans. He looked at the three of them asleep on the floor, incredulous.
“The German stitched me up?” he whispered, pointing to Jens.
“Yes,” I said. “He said you lost a lot of blood and need plasma. Also, food and rest.”
“Well, I’ll be damned.” He was still staring at Jens, sleeping on the floor. “I do feel horrible. Jesus, I don’t even remember the crash.”
“We’ll leave in a couple of hours, before dawn,” I said. “They’re giving us a map to show us the best way to the Allied lines.”
“And you trust them?” Colonel Brooks asked, watching my face. His complexion even in the firelight had a gray hue, and his voice was weak.
“I do,” I said.
“All right,” he said, frowning. “If they send us on a wild goose chase with this map of theirs and we wind up captured or dead, it’s on you.”
I couldn’t tell if he was kidding or not. He must have sensed it because his face softened a little, and with a slight smile he added, “But if you get us the hell out of enemy territory? You and your friends are getting Bronze Stars.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
December 25, 1944
“Of course it’s snowing again,” Viv said, as we packed up the Cheyenne at 4:00 a.m. I had stayed up for a little while talking to the colonel, making sure he had plenty of water to drink and that his bandages were okay before I dozed off again.
“This is the first year I’m not happy about Christmas snow,” Dottie said.
We let the colonel sleep while we packed up our things. The Germans were also up and ready to go, and Elisabeth gave them a bag of food she had packed. We didn’t have much, but I was able to dig out some more ground coffee and K rations to give them too.
We all said our thank-yous and good-byes. They weren’t “the enemy” anymore. Wolf and Axel were somber, devastated that they had to return to the realities of war. Fritz looked like he was going to cry because all of his new friends had to leave.
Viv gave the three Germans pecks on the cheek as they walked out the door, and that definitely lifted their spirits a little.
“Follow the map, and you should get out all right,” Jens said. “I’d go soon, though; this snow . . .” He looked up, also sad that our reprieve from the war was over.
“I agree,” I said. “Thank you. The colonel was shocked when I told him. You saved his life.”
Jens looked at the colonel softly snoring on the settee. “I’m glad I could help him,” he said.
I walked him out, and Axel handed him his gun. The three of them walked backward a few feet and gave us final waves good-bye before they turned and set off into the forest.
Dottie gently woke Colonel Brooks, and he insisted on walking to the Cheyenne himself, which we all took as a good sign.
“Are the Nazis still here?” he barked, rubbing his eyes as Elisabeth smiled shyly and gave him a cup of coffee.
Hoffman said, “Sir, can I help you walk?”
“Oh hell, I suppose you’ll have to,” the colonel said, turning white, wincing and wobbling as he tried to stand. “I think this knee’s in rough shape.”
I got on the other side of him, placing his arm around my shoulders, and we took our time, taking baby steps to the door and then outside.
I felt ill that we had to go back into the snow and our freezing truck, and that we still weren’t in safe territory.
“Please thank your mother for being so generous and brave and compassionate,” I said to Fritz, looking at Elisabeth after we were packed up and ready to go. “We will never be able to thank you enough for your kindness.” When Fritz translated, Elisabeth smiled, stepped toward me, and gave me a hug.
“Bitte,” she said when we pulled away from each other.
“Take good care of yourselves,” I said, hugging Fritz and ruffling his hair until he blushed a deep red.
Dottie agreed to stay in the back with Colonel Brooks, and Viv and Hoffman would ride up front with me to help navigate.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive?” Hoffman asked for the tenth time.
“Look, I know you assume she’s a bad driver because she’s, um, a woman, but she’s actually really damn good,” Viv said. “Have you ever driven a Clubmobile before?”
“Well, no but—” Hoffman started, but Viv interrupted him.
“Well, it takes a ton of practice, and if I had to choose between you or Fiona to get us to the Allied line
s? I’m putting my money on Fiona,” Viv said.
“All right, fine,” Hoffman said, putting his hands up in surrender.
“Hey, thanks, Viv,” I said, smiling as we drove down the narrow lane we had come in on to get back to the main road. “I just need you two to tell me about any turns coming up so I don’t miss them in this weather.”
I wanted more than anything to drive fast, to get on the right side of the Allied lines as soon as possible, but the weather and the snowy roads wouldn’t allow it. And we had learned the hard way about vehicles coming in the other direction, so I was on the lookout for those as well.
We drove for over an hour as the snow fell heavier, and I had to slow down even more, driving in the lowest gear because the Cheyenne’s tires kept slipping.
“We’ve got to be close, right?” I said.
“The map says we are,” Viv said. “According to this map, there should be a command post somewhere up ahead.”
“Not that we could see it in this whiteout,” I said. It was freezing, but I could feel sweat dripping under my hat. There were no more signs of cottages or shelter. I had four people with me, one seriously injured, that I had to get to safety soon. We couldn’t get stuck out here. If we didn’t freeze to death, we might end up shot. I was sure the next Germans we ran into wouldn’t be friendly.
Suddenly, the Cheyenne started to stutter and then abruptly stalled out.
“No! No, no, no. Dottie, did you check the petrol before we left like I asked?” I yelled over my shoulder into the back.
“I did,” Dottie said. “Of course I did. You asked me four times.”
I closed my eyes and tried to quell the panic that was bubbling up inside of me.
“Do we have any more in the back we can add?” Viv asked. “You know, just in case that’s it.”
“We have some in the back,” I said. “That better be it. Otherwise . . . I don’t even want to think about it.”
“I’ll help,” Hoffman said, following me outside.
“I swear I checked, Fi,” Dottie said as she passed Hoffman the can of petrol.