Robert Conroy - Himmler's war

Jack took a deep breath. What’s the worst Stoddard can do, he wondered, send me home? “Colonel, we were under fire and men were dying. I did what I thought was best. I hoped to distract the eighty-eight and maybe get them to withdraw. I didn’t suspect a machine gun, just like we didn’t expect the eighty-eight.”

“It was about a quarter mile away and you told your men to start shooting at it while you tried to flank it. Did you really think they’d hit anything?”

“No sir. I just hoped to confuse the Germans and give our boys something to shoot back at. Frankly, sir, I was a little disconcerted at how few of our guys actually did shoot.”

“Why didn’t you wait for the cavalry?”

“I saw the first tank come down and get killed. I didn’t want to wait for another to come and die.”

Lieutenant Colonel Whiteside came in and took a folding chair by Stoddard. “I have casualty figures, Colonel. Fifteen dead and eleven wounded, several seriously.”

Stoddard winced in pain. He might be a gruff bastard but he obviously cared for his men as much as he cared about protecting his skin. And, Morgan thought sadly, one of the dead and one of the wounded was a result of his actions. He could still see the half-track in front of his Jeep blowing up and the Sherman being destroyed. That was why there were more dead than wounded. Nobody had a chance to get out.

“We learned a lot today,” Stoddard said quietly. “First, we will have flankers out whenever possible, although the damned hedgerows hinder that. Second, we will have heavy weapons mixed in among the helpless so they can fight back. In sum, Morgan, you did well. Perfect? No. But well. You actually did something while others were hiding in the grass and crying for their mommies.”

“Colonel, I was scared shitless, too.”

“But, like the colonel said, you actually did something,” said Whiteside, “and you learned a dirty little secret today. In combat, many, many men will simply freeze and not fire their weapons.” He handed Jack a small box. “This just came for you, Captain.”

Puzzled, Morgan opened it. His jaw dropped. It was a Bronze Star. “What the hell is this for, sir?”

“Your actions on the LST,” said Whiteside. “You saved a man while the ship was blowing up, or don’t you remember? A Commander Stephens put you up for it. There was some bureaucratic disagreement as to who should give you the medal, the army or the navy since you saved a GI but were on a navy ship. It was decided the army should do it since you’re one of us. Congratulations. You’re now an official hero. “And oh yeah, you’re getting a Purple Heart as well, or had you forgotten about your shoulder and that ugly cut on your face.”

“Frankly I had, sir.”

Stoddard stood and they shook hands. “Yeah,” said Stoddard, “you’ve proven to be a pleasant surprise. Now go back and have some of Levin’s clandestine wine and tell him to bring me some, too. I need it after today.”

VARNER ARRIVED at his Berlin apartment dirty and late for dinner. He didn’t bother to change. He sat and ate slowly and without enthusiasm. He endured their stares because Magda insisted that he needed to eat to keep up his strength. Margarete, little Magpie, gazed at him, wide-eyed. She had never seen him in a filthy uniform before. She was a bright little girl and both he and Magda loved her deeply. Although, at fourteen and with her figure ripening, perhaps she wasn’t so little anymore. Regardless, she knew when to keep still. The only question she asked was whether Hitler was dead. Rumors, she said were flying. He told her he didn’t know. He hated lying to his daughter, but he couldn’t take the chance that she might say something to a schoolmate that could get back to the damned Gestapo.

When she was done eating, Margarete kissed him on the forehead and announced that she had studying to do. Magda then informed her husband that he was filthy and it was time for him to clean up.

Varner grunted and went to the bathroom where he filled a tub with hot water, stripped, and lay down in it, letting its warmth cleanse him in more ways than one.

He toweled down and walked naked into the bedroom. He was mildly annoyed that Magda hadn’t brought any underclothing to the bathroom. His annoyance ceased when he saw her lying naked on the bed, her long blond hair undone and strewn across her pillow. He grinned wickedly. “Is it Christmas?”

She smiled and beckoned to him. “No, but you can open your present anyhow.”

They made love with an intensity that had been lacking in the last few weeks as his job had overwhelmed and exhausted him. Magda was no longer the slender student he’d married almost two decades ago, but he thought the slight plumpness she’d gained in certain areas of her body was highly desirable. He proved the point by caressing her intimately, in preparation for a second time. She moaned and sighed. “Magpie will hear us,” he said.

“I think she understands.” They caressed each other with their lips, fingers, and tongues until he again entered her and they climaxed, totally spent.

Later, they lay side by side, sweaty and sated. Varner felt it was time to bring up an unpleasant decision he’d made. “You and Magpie must leave Berlin. When the bombs were falling and I was cowering in some filthy stinking basement and trying not to shit myself, all I could think of was the two of you and what danger you were in. And when I helped pull that boy out of the rubble, I thought I would weep in despair. We have no defense against the Allied bombers, and the next raid, or the one after that, could easily kill you.”

Magda was not surprised. In fact, part of her welcomed it. She wanted to be by Ernst’s side in Berlin, but she also wanted to protect their daughter. And she was not too proud to admit that the bombings, an almost daily ritual now, terrified and horrified her. She counted it a blessing that, so far, the sirens hadn’t sounded this night.

“Now that I’m assigned to von Rundstedt’s staff, I can get authorization for you to go to your sister’s place.”

Magda’s sister Bertha and her husband Eric Muller lived in a village near Hachenburg, many miles farther west and near the Rhine. To her knowledge no bombs had fallen there, although Hachenburg itself had been hit.

“Agreed,” she said, “and there is another problem that would be solved. Do you remember Volkmar Detloff?”

“Of course. Pure Aryan from a totally Nazi family, he’s a fanatically Nazi Youth, and thinks he’s a new god even though he’s only, what? Sixteen?”

“Well, he told Margarete that if she wanted to be a good young Nazi, she should let him fuck her. For the glory of the Reich, of course.”

Varner lit a forbidden cigarette. He’d borrowed a couple at the Chancellery. “Did he actually use those words?”

“Yes, but don’t think our precious Margarete hasn’t heard them before.”

“I don’t care. Young Volkmar certainly has a way with words. A shame he is going to die violently at such a young age.”

Magda giggled. “She told me she told him she’d rather lose her virginity to a frog.”

Varner’s anger faded. He knew he would do nothing about Detloff. The boy’s father was a fairly high ranking member of the Nazi Party and the SS, and a minor aide to Himmler. “I think an immediate move to your sister’s at Hachenburg would be good. How do you think Magpie will feel about this?”

“She’ll go. She’ll miss some of her schoolmates, but she comprehends quite a lot. She even asked me too if Hitler was dead.”

“What did you tell her?” He had told Magda the truth, knowing she could and would keep the secret.

“Just like you said, I told her I didn’t know. She told me that meant he was dead. She said that if I knew he was alive, I would have said so. She’s very smart, don’t you think?”