Tyree thought that was better. He stuck out his hand which the white sergeant took. “Sergeant Copland, I’m proud to be a member of the U.S. Army’s navy.”
Morgan could barely conceal his elation. Jessica would be in Rheinbach, only a dozen or so miles away. Now all he had to do was find a way to get to Rheinbach without getting court-martialed.
He nobly considered that he didn’t want much time with her and quickly discarded that ridiculous notion. He wanted a lifetime with her. However, he would settle for even just a few minutes.
In the quick phone call she’d made, she said that she had volunteered to check out the possibly deplorable refugee situation at a camp outside Rheinbach and that she hoped that he would, somehow, manage to get there. Damn. What the hell to do now?
He walked to where Jeb’s quarters were. Like a number of enterprising GI’s of all ranks, Jeb had managed to get a tent all to himself, whereas Jack was still sharing with Levin.
A piece of wood by the flap served as a knocker. Jack knocked, announced himself, and walked in. “Oh shit,” he said.
A pretty young blonde sat up in Jeb’s cot. “Hello,” she said with a radiant smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Jeb has said a lot of nice things about you.”
She was naked and Jeb was asleep beside her. The cot looked too small for two people, but neither seemed to mind. “I’m Hilda Brunner and I’ll wake him for you,” she continued in heavily accented English.
Hilda wrapped an army blanket around her and, after a few not so gentle shoves, Jeb woke up and yawned. “I see you’ve met Hilda. Hilda, this is Jack.”
Hilda beamed again. “Hello.” The army blanket had opened and Jack was acutely aware that she was a true natural blonde with an incredibly lean and slender body.
“Jeb, I have to ask, how old is she?”
“Sixteen.”
“Jesus, that would be illegal in some states.”
“Yeah, but not in Germany. Now you’re going to ask what essential service she provides to make it legal according to the new fraternization rules. It’s simple, she raises my morale.”
Hilda patted Jeb on the cheek. “That’s not all I raise.”
Jeb grinned and Jack couldn’t help but laugh. “Jack, if you hadn’t taken an oath of celibacy in order to impress my cousin, there are a number of wonderful German women who’d love to meet you, including some of Hilda’s relatives. And, in case you haven’t noticed, Hilda speaks English, which means our relationship isn’t all carnal.”
Hilda giggled. “It isn’t?”
“Now, Jack, what the hell is so important that you have to interrupt my afternoon siesta? I am just totally exhausted. Hilda is one hell of an athlete.”
Jack explained the situation with Jessica going to Rheinbach as part of a Red Cross investigation of the refugee camp.
Carter patted Hilda on her delightful rump. “Rheinbach. Isn’t that near where you live?”
“Yes. It’s just a little place and wasn’t badly bombed. My family still owns businesses there.”
“And isn’t one of them a hotel?”
“Ah, yes,” she said, catching on quickly. “It’s a small but lovely place on the Hauptstrasse, which is the town’s main street. You will give me dates and I will ensure that Captain Morgan and his lover get the best of rooms and service.”
When Jack started to protest that they weren’t lovers yet, Jeb turned on him. “Damn it, my lovely cousin invited you to meet her in the German town and you’re not going to have a place to take her if she’s willing? How dumb are you? No, wait, we already know that. She’s going to Rheinbach to meet you, Hilda’s getting the rooms, and all you and I have to do is figure out a way to get to Rheinbach at the right time.”
“You mean you’re okay with my getting intense with your cousin?”
“My cousin’s free, white, and over twenty-one. She can do whatever she wants with whoever she wishes, and yes, I do wish she’d had an affair with me, but that didn’t happen and it ain’t gonna happen since she’s met you and is settling for less than she should. Look, we’re in a period of what was once called ‘sitzkrieg’ or phony war, but we all know it’s not going to last forever. When the weather turns nice all goddamn hell is going to break loose and a lot of us won’t be around for next Christmas. For God’s sake, take life when and how you can.”
Hilda sat back down on the cot and pulled Jeb’s hand down to her breast. “Don’t forget, you have me.”
“Right,” Jeb said, calming down. “Hilda will make the arrangements and, if nothing happens, so be it. If it does work out then you’ll have a night or two to remember for the rest of your lives. And, with the invasion coming on, that might not be all that long. Live while you can, Jacko.”
Still naked, Hilda walked with Jeb and Jack to the tent flap. “He is joking with you. I’m twenty-one and not sixteen. My family has decided that it will be a long time before Germany again controls the Rhineland, so we are cooperating to the fullest.”
“And they are indeed,” Jeb said happily. Hilda said goodbye and led an unprotesting Jeb back to the cot. Elated, Jack walked back to his own quarters.
The trip across Poland was about as Skorzeny had expected-appalling and miserable.
Eleven vehicles made up the column. In addition to the warm and fairly comfortable staff car he shared with Heisenberg, there were nine trucks of varying sizes and makes. Although a couple were the crude but robust Russian made Zis three-ton vehicles with their absurd wooden cabs, the majority were General Motors two-and- a-half-ton trucks sent to Russia via lend-lease and captured by the Germans. A bus carrying extra men and scientists completed the motorized menagerie.
All the vehicles were painted with the dread red shield insignia of the NKVD and their crews were, with the exception of the handful of scientists accompanying them, all Russians who hated the Soviets because they either lost everything in the Revolution, or had been part of Vlasov’s anti-Soviet army and wanted revenge for his capture. Skorzeny declined to tell any of them that it’d been he who had turned Vlasov and the others over to the Reds to be butchered. Let them believe the fairy tale that a Soviet raid had captured Vlasov.
Skorzeny’s second in command was a young major named Ivan Davidov. He hated Stalin with a white-hot fury because his parents and brother had disappeared into the Siberian gulags for the crime of being intellectuals who asked questions. He didn’t give a crap what had happened to Vlasov whom he considered a turncoat who couldn’t be trusted. Davidov considered himself to be a true patriot.
None of this was a great concern to Skorzeny. He had his orders from Himmler and would carry them out. Of course, Himmler had tried to pin him down as to how long it would take to get to Moscow and detonate the bomb. Skorzeny first had to remind the Reichsfuhrer that no one knew for certain if the damn thing would explode or not, which obviously frustrated Himmler.
Nor was Himmler happy when Skorzeny said they’d arrive when they got there, that he had no idea what the conditions were in Poland and western Russia, and what kind of delays would ensue.
Now he knew. Poland was a study in desolation. It had been fought over and savaged several times by both Russia and Germany since 1939 and in wars prior to that. Few buildings were intact. Decomposing and dismembered corpses, animal and human, lay everywhere. Mounds of rubble gave off intolerable stenches because thousands of bodies were buried underneath, the result of more recent battles.
Few people were seen. Either they were all dead, or had fled somewhere, or were living like rats in the rubble. Skorzeny didn’t blame them for hiding. Both the Germans and the Russians despised the Poles. Men had been massacred while women and children were raped by both sides. Poland was well on its way to becoming a ghost land.
Before the war, Poland had not been noted for its efficient road system and now the situation was worse. Craters forced detours and many bridges were down. Spring was coming and creeks were becoming rivers. Several times the convoy had to wait for the floods to go down or Soviet engineers to repair bridges.
