Peter Idone - Red Vengeance

Monika rolled her eyes in annoyance. “I was a secretary some of the time. I was also a bottle washer and housekeeper, as were Valeria and Elenya. We also entertained here. This was the officers’ club. Brothel, if you prefer.”

Angst looked at Valeria. She had not moved or expressed any interest in what was occurring around her. “What’s the matter with her?”

“The events of last night and this morning have finally caught up with her, but it did not begin there. Valeria had been the favorite of the Reichsbahn foreman. Although, by the way he treated her, you would never have thought so. His appetites were morbid.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why should you be sorry, Corporal? You have done nothing. On the contrary, you and your Kamerad have rescued us, and Elenya is being consoled as we speak. So, tell me, what have you in mind?” Monika’s tone was poisonous.

“You’ve managed to survive this far. I won’t get in your way.”

“With few options, one learns to make use of what one has.”

A loud droning noise started up outside. Angst went to the front of the house and looked out the window. The Einsatzgruppen had assembled. Motorcycle engines revved as the sidecar passengers settled in their seats. The auxiliaries, now crowded in the trucks and lorries, still expressed their disappointment at having to leave. The square had turned blue from the exhaust fumes. He watched Sergeant Reinhardt dodge the vehicles as he made his way directly toward the house. Angst rushed back to the parlor, certain that he and Detwiler would catch hell, but refrained from knocking on the supply room door. Let Detwiler explain his behavior to the sergeant, he thought.

Reinhardt was already in the house and, seeing Angst, entered the parlor. If the sergeant was surprised at the presence of the women, he did not show it. “What’s going on here, Corporal?” he asked, looking at Monika.

“I think I found the captain’s headquarters, sergeant.”

“Who are these women?”

“Employees of the—”

“Whores,” Monika snapped. Now Reinhardt appeared stunned. There was silence except for the noise of the vehicles departing the square.

“They were left behind, by mistake, when the Reichsbahn evacuated. This is Monika Glammers. She is German.”

“Did you see her identity papers for authenticity?” Reinhardt was livid at the oversight. Angst said nothing. “I saw Detwiler enter a little while ago. Where is he?”

Angst pointed to the supply room door, from where the unmistakable sounds of grunts and fumbling informed Reinhardt exactly as to what was going on. “We’ll see about this,” he said, ready to kick in the door, but he thought better of it. Instead he opened the door quietly. The couple had made a bed of the pillows and curtains. Trousers down around his muddy boots, Detwiler lay scissored between Elenya’s heavy thighs. His bare white buttocks rippled like kneaded dough. Reinhardt lunged into the room. “Get up, you miserable swine!” he shouted, as he took Detwiler by the collar and dragged him savagely off the woman. Elenya closed her robe and turned over on her side. “You disgusting little shit,” Reinhardt bellowed as Detwiler, still on the floor, wiggled into his trousers. “You have a wife back home, and little ones, don’t you?”

“Yes, Sergeant.”

“Ever considered what they would think of their father behaving in this outrageous manner?”

“Be realistic, Sergeant” Detwiler replied sheepishly, as he got up and collected his belt and equipment.

“It will be a penal battalion for you once we get back. Is that realistic enough for you?” Reinhardt herded Detwiler into the parlor and then turned his anger toward Angst. “Evidently you lack the ability to control the men of your detail, Corporal.”

“I don’t have any men.”

“Go ahead and be flippant. You’re headed for the same place as this one.”

“I’m not being flippant. I have no control over what he does. Corporal Schroeder can keep him under control, when he has a mind to do so, but not me.”

“With such poor leadership qualities, I am amazed you have risen to the rank of corporal—but I can guarantee it will not be a rank you will hold for long.” Reinhardt lifted the weighty MG42 off the bar counter, thrust it into Detwiler’s arms, and practically threw the belt of ammunition at him. “Get over to the workers’ settlement on the north side of town and help Schroeder.”

“Yes, Sergeant.” Detwiler, now thoroughly cinched and buttoned, left the house.

Reinhardt turned back to Angst. “Collect the women’s identity papers. When the lieutenant arrives, get over to the repair depot. Maybe you will have better luck overseeing Braun and Schmidt.” Elenya had straightened herself up and now stood in the doorway. The sergeant regarded the women as one more irksome detail that he lacked the patience or the stamina to deal with. “Clean up this pigsty,” he told them. “Captain Falkenstein will use this as his headquarters. Fix some bedding, if there is any. Something unused. And open some windows. I don’t want this place smelling like a brothel.” He noticed Valeria glued to the armchair, unresponsive the entire time. “What is the matter with this one?”

“I believe she is in a state of shock,” Monika replied.

“Well, get her involved in something. It’s better than allowing her to brood.”

After Reinhardt had stormed out of the house, Angst suggested to Elenya that she change into more suitable clothing. “And give me your identity papers.” Monika merely reached into her jacket pocket and turned over the booklet. Angst pointed to where the near-catatonic Ukrainian girl sat. “What about hers?”

Monika stepped over to where Valeria sat and knelt down beside her. “Give me your papers, dear.”

Valeria looked up. “Are we going now?”

“Not yet, but very soon. We have to show the corporal our papers. It will be all right. You’ll see.”

Valeria undid the straps of the valise and rummaged through an assortment of clothing and personal articles. Growing impatient at the girl’s painstakingly slow movements, Monika took the valise and searched. She found the booklet and gave it to Angst. He was impelled to put both women at ease. “Make her understand that nothing bad will happen, now that the captain is in charge.”

“So we have nothing to fear from the likes of that brute with the machine gun?”

“You mean Detwiler?”

Monika nodded. “Should I assume he’s the worst of your lot?”

“No, I wouldn’t assume that. He’s only the most impulsive. Besides, your friend didn’t put up a struggle. If she had, then I would have intervened. I did on your behalf, remember.”

Monika’s eyes widened. “Elenya is a bighearted soul but something of a cretin.”

“Someone mention my name?” Elenya said in halting German, as she sashayed into the parlor. She had thrown on a light green shift, sweater and apron. She was still zippering and buttoning when she entered. The transformation was matronly, as opposed to the slovenly manner of near-undress when Angst had first discovered her. She handed Angst her identity booklet. “What is your captain like?”

“Your charms will have no effect. Now get to work, or there will be hell to pay for us all.”

Valeria was hustled out of the armchair and a broom thrust into her hands. Listlessly, she began to sweep the floor of broken glass. It was decided between Monika and Elenya that the storeroom would serve as sleeping quarters for the captain. They opened a window, and all nonessential paraphernalia was thrown outside. While Elenya busied herself with this chore, Monika took a small area rug, dragged it into the parlor and rolled it out. She turned the table that lay in the foyer upright, placed it on the rug, and arranged the upholstered armchair next to the table. Angst decided to keep out of their way and returned to the front door. The command vehicle had pulled up to the house, and Reinhardt conferred with the two officers. They all turned to look as Angst came out of the house, saluted, and handed the identification booklets to the lieutenant. “The women are making the quarters more habitable, Captain. Will there be anything else?”