CHAPTER 22
Last Days
The fighting on the western front had not been going well for the Nazi war machine. Over half a million men had been lost, together with most of their tanks, artillery and transport and many thousands more were now being taken prisoner. Tired and disillusioned men had been prepared to lay down their weapons and give themselves up but their commanding officers had been given instructions to shoot anyone who looked like deserting. Even so, as British and American troops made their way across the fields of France, the fighting was as fierce as it had always been. A hardened core of foot soldiers and those too young to know a different life were still willing to believe the Nazi propaganda machine and fight on. Reports began to seep through lines of communication, that the Führer leader had grown pale and puffy, had become, when agitated like a twitching cockroach; calm and quiet one minute, screaming and raving like a demented spirit the next. The news percolated out like coffee, at first a pale trickle until it had become rich and coloured in detail and the enemy was quick to seize the opportunity.
Hans heard about Hitler’s last major December offensive in France through a communication early in ’45. Maybe the censors had missed it or maybe they had left it in as a deliberate act. He read that the Führer had thrown his remaining panzers into an attack on the Americans in the wooded hills of the Ardennes.
There is to be no withdrawal! No surrender! The Americans and their allies must be smashed!
Win or die! Had not enough men been slaughtered like cattle? The push into the Ardennes had been a terrible mistake which had been doomed to fail the minute the idea was hatched. Hans knew very little about anything for most information was closely guarded. Since November he had not received a single bit of news from Germany and as the New Year approached, he realised that Elisabeth would never share in Christmas celebrations ever again. Once more he had survived where his wife had died. The depression he felt had brought back memories of his loss for Caroline. But he had to struggle on for he was not the only one to have felt such loss. He was obliged to put the other men before his own needs and make an approach to the commanding British officer in the hope of releasing Christmas mail.
At the beginning of January, the Red Cross mail and parcels did arrive. Such arrival always lifted the prisoners’ spirits and for several days afterwards there was a burst of activity within the camp as items were traded and snippets of homeland news were exchanged. Hans found he did well from his allocation of cigarettes, for there were always other men willing to exchange even the most rarest of ‘goodies’ for a packet or two of something they could smoke.
As soon as the trading had subsided and men slipped into some favourite place to savour the sweetness of smoke or the spiced flavour of home-produced sausage.
Now that the weather was improving, life as a POW in England was mainly spent in walking to and from the camp to spend hours hoeing and tending vegetable crops on one of the neighbouring farms. Food rations were quite adequate, often better than any that the Afrika Korps had received during their final year in North Africa and a lot better than the civilian population in Europe.
Prisoners were told that Allied tanks had now crossed the Rhine and that Hitler had taken to his underground bunker in Berlin where he was preparing for his and Germany’s final stand. What they were not told was that their Führer’s rantings were becoming more frequent as he screamed into the faces of those generals still loyal enough to risk the dangers of trying to get through battle lines already squeezing Berlin from every direction. If only they could have heard, they would have wondered why their demented leader was still in charge.
Traitors! All traitors! Can I trust none of you stupid, cowardly idiots? Nothing remains! Nothing is spared me! I’ve been stabbed in the back by idiotic imbeciles too soft to stand and fight! Bubbles of froth and spit seeped out between his quivering mouth as he raved. My orders were to stand firm! There was to be NO surrender! Why doesn’t the Wehrmacht listen? I’ll tell you: because you’re all cowards, that’s why. And traitors! All traitors! You are the ones destroying the Reich, not me. All fools! Find the SS! We have to make preparations! The SS know how to fight for Berlin! Prepare for complete victory or total destruction!”
Nature was making her own preparations. Spring was in the air. Everything was exploding; exuberantly bursting from her winter rest. Golden daffodil trumpets had heralded in sweeping masses of bluebells carpeting a grey woodland floor with its brilliance of blue. Soft, pale lime-green leaves began to stretch themselves like hatching butterflies and slowly, but surely, the dull woods of winter were being transformed into a waving mass of green. Calls of a solitary cuckoo spread out unseen; a dappled voice breathing life into the awakening forest.
Hans had spent much of this morning working in one of the fields. It was a wonderful warm spring morning and he had been pleased to have been outside. It was so peaceful. No sound of war had intruded. Fighters no longer whined overhead and these fields were away from any bomber flight path.
He was returning to camp with the working party when he saw Jan standing just inside the prison gates. The men had been singing the Afrika Korps favourite song, ‘Lilli Marlene,’ as they marched together under guard between farm and camp. Jan was his Lilli and, unlike the girl in the song, his girl was there to welcome him, not to say ‘goodbye.’
As soon as they had walked through the gates and been dismissed, he left the others and made his way over to her. It always lightened his heart to see her, even if she and one of the doctors had been called in to attend to an ailing prisoner. This time she was unaccompanied.
“Jan, how wonderful to see you again.”
She held up her hand towards him and spoke quickly,
Hans, I haven’t got long. Can we talk somewhere?”
“I’ll clean off this dirt and then we can go to the mess and talk. Wait here. I won’t be long. Don’t go away.”
She laughed and patted her First Aid kit box she always carried with her when she came.
“No fear of that! Orders received, Major. We’ll have about half an hour. I’m not going to let this opportunity go. I have to report for duty at 14.20 hours.”
A moon-shaped grin dominated Hans’ face and gave him the appearance of a cheeky schoolboy. Jan remembered the time when such a grin would have annoyed her. As a teenager she was annoyed with many things in her life and felt more a prisoner then, than many of these men did now. She watched him as he darted away in the direction of the curved Nissan-hut that had been his sleeping quarters since his return to England. He was nimble on his feet for the field work had made him fit again. He was as good as his word, for within four minutes, he returned tidy and clean, dressed in his military uniform.
“There’s a quiet corner we can go to,” he suggested quickly, indicating the area he had in mind. As they hurried over, he told her that some of the younger men had found themselves girlfriends when they had been out on the farms.”
“Land-girls,”Jan added.
“Yes. They’re very friendly towards the boys. And they all like it. They snatch a few minutes to practise their English when the guards take time to light up. The fraternising’s not really allowed. But girls and boys . . . it doesn’t matter where they’re from . . . they always find a way. And who am I to stop them?”
“Well, you can’t say much, can you? Here’s a senior officer of theirs chatting up a girl, right now. Right under the noses of his captors. Really, Major! What is this camp coming to?”
“Do you think anyone notices this nurse is not here just on official business?”
Jan shrugged her shoulders.
“Does it bother you?”
“No. All anyone can see is that we are going over to the mess hall. Quite plausible.”
Yet it must have looked a bit strange to anyone who took the time to observe them, to see the pair walking and talking at ease with each other: one in a Wehrmacht uniform; the other, a British ATS nurse. But then, this was a camp, so maybe not.
/> Music was playing over the sound system. It was American rag-time. Hans found a table at the far end of the hut and they sat facing each other, the tops of their heads almost touching.
“Hans?” Jan began, sliding her hand slowly towards him over the table top. He automatically placed his own hand over hers, enjoying the feeling of contact.
“What?”
“I wish this damn war would hurry up and end and then we can be together.” She was silent for a while. Hans could feel her fingers moving under the palm of his hand. When she spoke next, the volume of her voice was low and guarded for she did not want anyone other than Hans to hear what she wanted to say. “I do love you, Hans, regardless of the uniform you are wearing.”
“I have grown to love you too, Jan but it doesn’t help while there is still a war.”
“I have always felt there was something between us and I do not just mean the disagreements we've had in the past.” She looked into deeply his eyes and into the past they had shared together. “I was terribly angry at first because you acted as if I did not exist. Then, when you came to aunt’s to stay, I had to learn how to share. I had never done that before and then I got to used to it and thought of you as mine. Others had brothers or sisters, like Anne; someone with whom to share, to do things together. Like when we rode that bicycle together. That was fun and I really wanted you to like me.”
“Really?” His voice raised in surprise. “You wanted a brother that much?”
“Yes. Then I became angry and jealous when you talked and laughed with other girls.”
“Surely you weren’t jealous of Anne, were you?” he asked raising an eyebrow and almost laughing off the question he had just asked. “You knew Anne was just a friend. She was in love with Gerald.”
Jan nodded in rapid succession, then looked at him with serious intent.
“I didn’t mean her.” She clenched her hands and Hans noticed the tips of her knuckles were becoming quite white. “It was Heidi. I thought you were attracted to her.”
Hans laughed loudly and reasuringly placed his hands over Jan’s.
“I’d known Heidi when we were young children and was so pleased when I saw her again. I wanted to make things easier for her than it was for me. There was nothing else other than friendship between us.”
“But you spoke to her in German and I didn’t understand. I thought you were chatting her up. I was so jealous. You see, I was attracted to you, even back then.”
“I never knew. You never gave any indication. I always thought you despised me because I wasn’t English.”
“I’d heard so many stories when I was little. You know how children only understand bits of adult conversations and I’m sorry about the photo. I didn’t understand why my aunt had it on the wall in the first place. I did not want to hurt you. Really. I never knew how your family also suffered until Aunt explained everything. And then after the accident, I wanted to be nice to you but I didn’t know how. I wanted you to take an interest in me but as my interest in you grew, you were taken further and further away.”
“I’m sorry. I never guessed you felt like that.”
“I had a real crush on you. Other girls fell in love with Valentino but I fell in love with you. You were real. You were different. You know how it is with girls.”
“I’m learning.”
Jan lifted her head and threw a quick glance around the Nissan-hut. They appeared to be alone now. Never-the-less she leant even closer towards him.
“I wished Andrea had been our daughter but I wouldn’t have wanted to go through what Caroline went through. The idea of childbirth scared me. But since nursing, I have looked at things differently. Then, I don’t think I really realised how much I cared for you until we met out in North Africa. Seeing you again brought back all those old feelings again, only stronger. When I found out you had married and . . . ” She took in a noisy breath between her lips and looked across the table with an expression of a hurt child. “I was angry and hurt again, Hans. The old me just exploded. I’m sorry. By that time, I knew it was love I felt. And it hurt!”
Hans was speechless for a long time. He squeezed Jan’s hands and felt them slide away from underneath.
“There are prying eyes are around here. We need to be careful. ” She hid her hands under the table. “Did you have any feelings for me?” she asked.
“I don’t know how I felt about you but I know I wasn’t pleased when you were returned to England as I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again. As for my marriage to Elisabeth, call it a political arrangement. I did my duty for the Führer and the expectations demanded of me.” A mocking smirk played around the corners of his mouth. “As for Caroline, I could not help myself. But then I was young. I fell in love with Caroline the first time I saw her and from then on she was the only girl for me. Youth and love: we loved each other as young people do . . . passionately. I realise now we were impulsive but it was the moment that mattered to us.”
“I wished it were me,” Jan groaned like someone with a deep-seated stomach ache.
“Would we have been as happy years down the track?” Hans found himself doubting his earlier feelings. Then he answered himself. “I do not know. I think this war would have destroyed us one way or another. I’m not sure Caroline could have gone with me to Germany, especially to the Germany we have today. Would our marriage have been accepted by the authorities knowing that one of her grandparents had Jewish connections?”
“Probably not, Hans. Who can tell?”
“You know that Caroline’s parents were angry when they found out Caroline was pregnant.”
“I know,” Jan groaned. “Caroline’s mother had a lot to say to Aunt about it all after Caroline had died. It was such a scandal. It was bad enough that she should run away but when they learnt of the baby, the disgrace was more than they could bare. For a long time, Aunt thought you had married and when she learnt otherwise, even she said Caroline had disgraced the whole family. Do you think our love will cause further disgrace?”
“I hope not. Look at it this way, Jan. In spite of all the hate around us, we’ve learnt to find love. There’s hope in that. In a strange way, the war years have brought us closer. We’ve had plenty of time to realise our feelings for each other.”
“Maybe. Do you believe in destiny?”
“Why?”
“I think it was destiny that brought us together, Hans.”
“It is ironic that it had to happen in a world of hate!” He laughed mockingly. “Is that how we had to find love, Jan?”
“I think so. Can the love we feel for each other really overcome all the bitterness and hate that has been around us?”
Jan adjusted her glasses. It was then, for a brief second, he noticed tears in the outer corners of her eyes.
“Jan, we can make it happen, if we want it to but only when all this killing stops.”
“I suppose so.” Her voice almost broke up. “Until then, there is little we can do.”
She looked away for a moment. He could feel her desperation and share her anguish. He rubbed the back of his little finger back and forth as the two of them sat silently summing up the situation. Hans had learnt to wait. A life in a prisoner of war camp was a long wait . . . for the end of the war, whenever it was to be . . . .
Finally, Jan pulled herself together enough to be able to talk to him again.
“I wish we could love each other . . . openly. I wish we didn’t have to snatch these secret moments when we can be together. Oh, how I long before I can let everyone know how I feel!”
He very much wanted to take her into his arms and hold her tightly so that their bodies could fuse together and so that nothing would dare to split them apart. Ever.
“Jan, dear Jan. I do love you.”
His eyes penetrated deep into her body and sent tingles running all the way down her back. Her body silently pleaded for him to do more. Sounds around her dissolved as her own blood swished through her arteries and veins and swel
led the nipples of her breasts until she could feel them pressing hard on the inside of her blouse. Her eyes followed him as he got up and moved around the table, edging closer to where she was sitting. She arched her back cat-like as he came closer and allowed herself to be wrapped into his strong, masculine arms.
Her entire body trembled. She could feel his breath down the back of her neck as he bent the top of his body over her head. She felt wanted and warm within his embrace.
“I love you.”
The warmth of his breath tickled her inner ear. She lifted her face upwards and smiled a smooth, silky smile. He kissed her firmly on her lips. They were swollen, moist and warm. He had the desire to kiss her again and again, to hold and make love to her until every sinew and muscle in his body gave up from sheer exhaustion.
“We will be together, soon.” His nostrils flared wide like a galloping horse. “It must be so.”
“I’ll hope,” she breathlessly whispered, letting her flushed cheek softly rub against the unshaven stubble on the curve of his face.
Hans let his arms slide away. He regained his composure and quickly stepped back. It would not do for them to be seen in such closeness to each other. Not yet. They would have to control themselves and be patient a while longer, keeping their love for each other secret.
Early evening, Hans lay on his bunk and listened to the dull drone of low-rumbling engines roll across the sky. The world surrounding them was still at war. Night raids were common. Hundreds of Allied bombers rolled like thunder clouds,crossing the Channel and winging their way into the skies of northern Europe. The cities of Hitler’s Reich were burning, turning into blackened twisted shapes clawing upwards towards a hostile sky. Broken bricks and ruins of rubble littered the streets as billowing black smoke clouds obliterated the blood-redness of a thousand incendiary fires.
Closer and closer the armies of America and Britain edged towards their target, army and air-force together, pushing eastwards across Germany until finally, the Americans and the Red Army met on the banks of the river Elbe. It had been a bitter fight.
In England, the last of the spring flowers were colouring the woods. A new stirring was taking place as blackbirds and thrushes began rebuilding their nests. Birds that had left the winter landscape behind them were returning to the mudflats and lakes and forest trees to feed and fatten on the abundance of food that an awakened land was ready to offer.
On May 1st, as Radio Hamburg was playing Bruckner’s Seventh Symphony. Uncle Karl had come into the kitchen for his dinner and had turned on the wireless for a bit of background music. He had little else to do now as his factory lay in ruins, a burnt out shell with little possibility for repair. He knew the fighting was nearing its end for every day there were conflicting reports about the Allied advances. Sometimes, the news broadcasts let a little of the outside reality seep through the constant barrage of how impregnable the borders the Reich were for their enemies. Uncle Karl finally realised they had been fed a diet of lies. Now, he preferred to hear music. Suddenly, and without warning the music stopped. An unemotional announcement was made:
The Führer is dead!
Smouldering ruins covered much of Europe. The last hostile shot rang out and then all was silent. The madness of the last five and a half years had finally come to an end. At midnight between May 8th and 9th, the last bombs fell and Europe gave a sigh of shame. Her shocked and dazed population crawled out from the rubble and stood face to face with their truth.
Uncle Karl knew now that there could be no victors in war. Men, women and children, soldiers and those held captive, homes and churches, communication networks and countryside had all suffered. Innocence had been sucked from humanity as the world began to weep for all the evil it was now witness to.
In England, church bells rang out. Crowds of survivors danced in the streets, hugged and kissed strangers as they celebrated the rebirth of peace. There was a new hope, a new beginning; it was a time to begin healing the wounds of war. It was a time in which people could begin planning and hope for a better future.
The Commander needed to speak with the senior German officer. It was most important that the prisoners of war be prepared for the conditions that existed in a post-war Germany. There were so many broken families across the Channel, families that had been rent apart and were now desperately trying to locate one another. Broken souls who spent their waking days sifting through the ruins and grasping at any small scattered scrap of information that would give them hope; any hope. Sadly, many of those lost would remain lost to their familes forever. They were just some of the millions who had perished because of a lust for power and a cry of ‘war.’ Only now, the enormity and true horror of a war which had whipped an entire nation into blind fanaticism, was beginning to reveal its dark secrets.
Before each prisoner could be freed, they had to be made aware of the horrendous evil the Nazi regime had inflicted on the populations in Europe. Jan had been informed that it could take several months, even maybe a year before Hans would finally be released and she desperately wanted to be with him as soon as possible. She had not told Hans that she had put in an application through the ATS for his early release on compassion grounds. She knew the application had been favourably received, yet as no definite answer had yet been given, she had decided not to give Hans false hopes.
A quiet autumn evening when the men were still able to sit in the early evening air, the Commander requested the presence of Major Resmel in his office. Hans opened the office door and began to raise his right hand ready to salute, when the Commander shook his head and indicated that this meeting was an informal one. He reached behind him and plonked an unopened bottle of sherry on to the table between them. Two metal mugs appeared and joined the bottle.
“Been keeping this for the end,” said the Commander. “Won’t you join with me now it’s all over?”
“Thank you, Commander.”
It was a strange feeling to be sitting in this office opposite the man, who, until now had been his adversary. The Commander popped the cork and filled their mugs.
“Cheers!”
“Cheers!” It was the first time Hans had used it.
“Thank God it’s all over,” sighed the Commander as he first took a fairly large mouthful of sherry, and then leaning well back in his chair, ran his fingers through his dark brown hair. “Now we can talk as friends.” He offered Hans a cigarette out of a small silver box. Hans politely held up his hand and the box was left lying on the table. “Mind if I do?” asked the Commander. Hans shook his head and waited for the other to light up. “I was called up early in the forties,” said the Commander drawing lightly on the cigarette. “I’d been on the reserve list for ten years. I’d done some military service back in the twenties. You must’ve been in England about then. Were you here when we had the Great Strike?”
“Yes,” answered Hans. He took a sip of wine and then continued, “I was. I couldn’t get back to London that day.”
“I was one of those called up to drive a train. London to Oxford. Many of the military were, you know. Gosh, Major, that seems a life-time ago. Quite a different world, back then.”
“Exactly.”
“Then I was out in Africa for a couple of years. Trouble with some of the locals so the Ministry asked for volunteers. After that stint I wasn’t too keen continuing in active service, so I went on the reserves. Wanted to get married again, see. Army life’s rather hell for a family being dragged around everywhere, nowhere to really call home. Have you been a military man all your working life?”
“No. I had a father who made the army his career so I do know what you’re talking about. I know what it’s like to be dragged around from one place to the next or not seeing your father for months and months. My mother found things very difficult.”
“I’m sure she did. You have any children back in Germany?”
“A son. Somewhere. But exactly where, I have no idea. I must get back and try to find him.”
??
?And your wife?”
“She was killed. In an air raid.”
“Sorry. One of ours?”
“I expect so. That’s war.”
The Commander nodded and emptied his drink. All the while the two had been chatting, the Commander continually sipped at his drink. It was only now that he noticed the Major’s mug was still half full.
“Come on, Major. Drink up. Can’t leave it all to me to empty this.” He held up the bottle at a slight tilt and waited. “You know, after the last go, I never thought we’d be at each others throats so soon. Terrible, how it all ended up.”
“I can’t believe how misguided we all were.” Hans contemplated the liquid in the mug as he tried to think of what to say without causing offence. “I agreed that things needed to be done. I don’t deny that. But to stop the slide into chaos, there needed to be quick action by a strong central government. Germany was in a bad way in the thirties and madness took centre place.”
The Commander poured out the rest of the sherry into his own mug and continued to sip.
“I can understand that. After the twenty-nine crash, things weren’t too rosy here, either. Fortunes were lost overnight. Ruined the family. Unemployment was rife and families sunk into poverty. You should have seen all those ill-fed children.”
“I felt we’d been offered some sort of solution. All I wanted was a better country where people could live a better life. I never considered that such evil was shaping our future. Once we were at war, we were trapped into fighting for a tyrant no-one knew how to stop. We’d climbed into bed with a tiger and found out, too late, that we were its dinner.”
The Commander gave a short grunt. He sat bolt upright, banging his mug hard on to the table so that several splashes shot out.
“Come, come, man, don’t give me those excuses! Your top brass could have rebelled and put a stop to it. Your soldiers could have surrendered earlier, instead of slogging it out for months, weeks, even right down to days and hours in every building or ruin we came across. They just wouldn’t give up!”
“Sorry, I disagree. Once a government gets us into uniform, we become their pawns. Ordinary decent people are changed into something else. They become like soldier ants, consigned to do battle and die without question. But there were some who did try to stop it. There were attempts to stop the Nazis but those attempts failed. Had we received outside help, there was a good chance one could have succeeded. Churchill could have helped.”
“What, with a war raging? He wouldn’t have known who to trust.”
“I admit it wouldn’t have been easy.”
The Commander gave an ironic laugh and emptied his mug.
“You had too many fanatics. It would have been an impossible ask.”
“Oh, I make no apologies for them. Nobody can deal with those sorts. Most of us were just soldiers. We did our duty and hoped to survive. This uniform . . . I would have been proud to wear it for my country but now I find out what the fanatics really did, I feel humiliated, unworthy and cheated.”
“Any soldier, who does his duty and abides by international law, should never feel unworthy. Bravery should always be admired, no matter what the cloth.”
“Even so. We will all be judged and convicted together.”
“Not this time, Major. We recognise that there were good men as well as bad. It’s those fanatics, the ones responsible for the genocide we’re after. Nazis! Not the ordinary soldier. And remember when you return, things will be very unsettled in Germany. You’ll need to be very aware of what is happening around you.”
“I must go back as soon as I can, no matter what the situation. I must find out if my son’s survived. And when that’s sorted, I’ve another promise to keep. There’s someone very special here, too.”
The Commander gave a Cheshire-cat grin and inclined his head towards the main gate.
“That Nurse who’s made several visits, eh? For a while I’ve had the thought that there’s been something going on between you. Am I correct? ” Hans nodded. The Commander laughed. “I’m not surprised. Pops up quite a bit around here. Half the time I can’t fathom what her reason is for doing another health check. She was always asking about you. Very good at her job, though, so I’ve heard.”
“We’ve known each other for a long time,’ added Hans in a mater-of-fact way.
‘Yes, someone did mention you’d met out in Africa. I know she was in the Territorial Services and did a stint of duty out there. She was head nurse in one of the camps, I believe.’
“Correct. But we knew each other before then, even before the war began.”
“Aha, that explains a lot,” the Commander decided, nodding his head as he was beginning to understand the connection. He considered it opportune now to clear up the other matter which had puzzled him. “I believe you’ve got a daughter here in England,” he remarked quite suddenly.
Hans was taken aback. No mention of Andrea had been made on either his military or POW record. As far as he was concerned, only he and Jan knew of his connection with the girl.
“Andrea? Yes.” Hans could see no reason to keep the fact secret any longer. “But how do you know? No-one knew; not even my last wife, Elisabeth.”
“That helps explain the visits you’ve been having. That nurse you said you’d previously met. Then I did some checking. Discovered there was a child living with the nurse’s elderly aunt. Had the same address as your nurse. And when I dug deeper, I found out from an acquaintance that the child’s father was a soldier fighting on the opposite side. So, when Nurse Turner let it slip that you had a daughter, I put two and two together. You see, it all makes sense now. You, in England before the war and your friendship with the nurse now. A love child?”
Hans nodded. After all, he wasn’t exactly telling a lie, for Andrea had been a child of love; but not between himself and Jan.
“Yes, I admit I do have an English daughter.”
It made him think about that terrible day when Caroline had died. He was a young, inexperienced office lad, the father of a tiny, fragile baby. He remembered. The memory of that loss had become softer over the passing years and no longer suffocated him with sorrow.
The Commander smiled in satisfaction.
“So, you’ve both decided to get together again now that the war’s over?”
“Well, yes but there is still my son. I must find him first.”
“Of course.” It was a gesture, nothing more. The Commander leaned forward. “This son of yours . . . he’s somewhere in Germany?” Hans nodded and the Commander asked, “Do you know where?”
“No. Not exactly. Not until I get to Germany will I be able to trace him. That’s why I need to go now. To find him, if he’s still alive.”
“There is a family who would have looked after him?”
Hans shrugged his shoulders and finished his drink.
“Who knows? My wife’s family would not be the sort one would be happy to be associated with right now.”
“Nazi sympathisers?” Hans nodded. He was unwilling to elaborate further. The Commander’s face was grim and serious as he looked directly at the man who had been his prisoner for over twelve months. “That makes things difficult. You must also realise that your country’s in an awful mess.”
“I’m expecting it so. I know it won’t be easy. I’ve got to try. If I find the child, I’ll look at our options. Jan and I want to make a fresh start and put the war behind us. Hopefully, we can become a family.”
“I do know what it’s been like . . . families split up, relatives missing. Awful messy business, war.”
“Exactly.”
Jan pulled every known string to get back to see Hans. She requested to be assigned to the medical unit responsible for prisoners’ health. It was a busy schedule for the unit travelled many miles from one camp to another but every few weeks, the unit returned to the one where Major Resmel had been taken to. These official visits, with the doctor and two other nurses gave her the opportunity to meet with him, if o
nly for brief moments. Hans’ mood had lightened considerably since peace had been declared and the repatriation of military personnel had begun. Now they could begin to plan their new life together.
Prisoner 81G-8624, Major Erwin Hans Resmel was finally given permission to leave the camp. He had waited almost six months for the paper work to be sent through and attributed his early release to the intervention of Jan as he had told her that before they could finalise their own life together, he wished to return to Germany to find his son. He had no idea whether the child was still alive or whether he had been taken into care by one of Elisabeth’s relatives. As soon as he found Siegmund, he would bring the child to England.
Hans had another meeting with the Commander. As Hans sat down, the Commander leaned down to his left and pulled a form out from his drawer. It had already been filled in and Hans was close enough to see that it had his number on the top: prisoner 81G-2624. The Commander picked up an official stamp and, after rolling it around on the ink pad, pressed it hard down onto a paper page from the file and handed the completed document over to Hans.
“Well, there we are, Major. Lucky you. You’ve been give an internal pass for four days. That’s to give you time to see your sweetheart. Here’s a small amount of money to help you on your way, together with a ration book. Courtesy of the Occupation Forces.” He handed these across the table and then produced a large parcel which was wrapped in the official British army wrapping. “Call these your de-mob clothes, if you like. Back to civvy-street now.” He took note of the look of puzzlement that had come over Hans’ face and realised the man did not understand. “Courtesy of the Red Cross. Plain clothes for you. Can’t have you wandering the country dressed like that.” The Commander indicated the well-worn Wehrmacht uniform Hans was still wearing. “Here’s all the information you need. Date of departure, where the port is and where you need to report for your journey out of the country. We’re shipping you out on one of the earlier boats. Make sure you report on time. Don’t want to come hunting for you.” He gave a wide, friendly smile, handed over the documents, and stood. “Good luck for your search. Also, good luck with that lady friend of yours.”
The Commander offered his hand and it was taken in a firm friendship clasp.
“Thank you. Thank you.” Hans replied with sincerity. He pushed the parcel under his arm and with a last salute, he walked out of the door for the last time. A free man. And with a quick change of clothing, he once more became plain Mr Erwin Hans Resmel.