Friends & Enemies (Promise for Tomorrow Book 1)

by Terri Wangard

  Heidi packed a few personal belongings in a rucksack to carry on her back. The early spring day was already warm by the time she arrived in Sankt Goar. Leaving her bicycle at an acquaintance’s home, she soon rode northward in a delivery truck traveling along the Rhine River to Boppard, where she found another ride.

  She arrived at Backhaus Ruf in midafternoon. As the driver unloaded his truck, she approached the baker. He didn’t look like a black marketer. Just an ordinary man, covered with flour dust. She silently snorted. What had she expected? A pirate patch over one eye and a shifty look in the other? He looked like he hadn’t slept in a long while, a common complaint with air raids around the clock. She squared her shoulders.

  “Herr Ruf, I greet you from the Ziemers. They’ve sent a few eggs and cream.”

  The man’s eyes were puffy and bruised, but they brightened as he eyed her box. “You have eggs in there?”

  Eggs must be as hard to find for him as thread was for her. She opened the box and peeled back the blankets, exposing the eggs and the jar of cream. He looked like he might cry as he gently lifted an egg. After a furtive glance around, he escorted her into a back room and slid aside a panel, revealing a secret compartment.

  “Ohhh.” Heidi stared at the abundance. Stores these days didn’t have such stock. She touched a teapot, then a sewing basket. A pile of clothing caught her eye and she pounced on it. Children’s clothes. She held up a boy’s small shirt and trousers. Her gaze swung to the baker.

  “Ah, yes. A woman lost her son in a raid. He has no use for these now.”

  Herr Ruf insisted on packing several articles of the clothing and the sewing basket into her box. “Give my regards to Anton and his wife. It’s a wonderful thing they’re doing, caring for the children.”

  With a fatherly pat on the shoulder and a slice of warm strudel, he sent her on her way. She’d been inside less than ten minutes. Anyone watching might suspect she’d merely gone in for a snack.

  After surprising Frau Ziemer’s sister with her unexpected visit, Heidi made her way south. Her progress was slow since many streets dead-ended in rubble, necessitating frequent backtracking. Darkness had fallen by the time she reached Karla’s apartment. She knocked on the door. What would she do if Karla no longer lived here?

  The door squeaked open. “Heidi? Heidi! Whatever are you doing here?” She was enfolded in a fierce hug. Karla pulled her inside and swung the door shut. “I have wanted to talk to you. Now tell me all about Wisconsin. My Wolfgang is there in a prisoner of war camp.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Ridgewell Air Base, England

  Thursday, April 13, 1944

  Schweinfurt. Of all the rotten luck. The stories were often repeated on base. In the bomb group’s first Schweinfurt mission last August, they’d lost ten airplanes. One hundred men. The 381st had fared better in an October return, but another group had welcomed home only one of the many bombers it had sent out. One. Chills skittered along Paul’s spine. Schweinfurt was a graveyard for B-17s and their crews. All because of ball bearing plants.

  Now, as they neared the target, the first bombing wing got a hot reception. A swarm of Messerschmitt 109 fighters tangled with the American fighter escorts. And the bombers.

  “Jeepers creepers. Three Forts are going down on fire,” exclaimed Howard from the ball turret.

  “Forget that now,” ordered Paul. “We’re at the Initial Point… now!”

  “It’s all yours, Art.” Aubrey relinquished control of the airplane.

  Slow minutes ticked by before the lead plane dropped its bombs. That ball bearing plant better be obliterated this time. Hunched over his bombsight, Art released their bombs.

  At almost the same instant, the lead plane took a hit that caused the left outboard engine to explode, tearing off much of the wing. The plane dipped sharply to the left and spiraled down. Paul’s heart nose-dived along with it.

  As soon as their bombs fell away, Aubrey resumed control of the Pampered Princess, their plane for the day, and yanked the plane in a hard turn. “Let’s get out of here, boys. Anyone see any chutes coming from Smarty Pants?”

  “Two or three for sure,” Lester answered. “But they’re going down right on the target along with all the bombs. At least the Kraut fighters have disappeared.”

  “They had to land and gas up. We should be out of here by the time they can return.” Art stood up and arched his back.

  “Sir, White Strike is taking over the lead,” Herb announced.

  “Roger th—”

  Aubrey’s words cut off when flak scored a direct hit on their number two engine. Another flak burst in front of their right wing caused smoke to shoot out of the number three engine, and loud noises emanated from number four.

  With full power coming from only one engine, Pampered Princess nosed down, picking up speed in a mad rush toward earth. Paul’s charts and instruments slid off his table. He grabbed onto the table to keep himself in place. His oxygen and intercom cables wrenched out of their sockets, but he dared not release his hold to plug them back in. Throughout the plane, spent ammunition casings, flight bags, and men tumbled about.

  They dropped twenty thousand feet before the nose finally began to rise. The airplane shuddered violently as it leveled out less than five hundred feet from the ground.

  With a trembling hand, Paul reconnected his intercom cable but didn’t bother with the oxygen line. He tugged off his mask and wiped his hand across his face. “Well, that was interesting.” His voice sounded steady. Amazing. Based on his own pilot training, Aubrey and Quinn had pulled off a Herculean task to keep them airborne. When the cockpit remained silent, he continued. “Navigator to crew, you can come off oxygen and check in.”

  The gunners responded with shaky voices. As Lester checked in, he added, “Now what?”

  Finally, Aubrey spoke up, sounding exhausted. “Now we see if we can get home. Did any fighters follow us down?”

  “No, they thought we were goners,” Arnie answered.

  “So did I,” muttered Bob. “My heart’s beating like a tom-tom.”

  “We’re down to one engine, but I think number four might have a little life left in it. If we can get that extra power, we might have a chance. Otherwise we may as well pull over and park.” Aubrey’s gusty sigh burst through the headphones. “Here goes.”

  Number four coughed once, fell silent, then rumbled to life. Cheers flooded the intercom.

  “Okay, Paul. Where are we?”

  “Ah, that’s a good question. I’m still trying to find my airspeed and altitude correction computers.”

  This had been Paul’s nightmare. They needed his expertise and he couldn’t pinpoint their position. Art handed his circular slide rules to him. Their air speed and direction during the wild descent were unknown, so he couldn’t make an accurate calculation. Just when they really needed him, he was letting them down. Then they flew over a river running almost east-west. “All right,” he shouted. “That’s the Rhine. Come west three degrees.”

  “I thought the Rhine ran north to south,” Quinn sounded hesitant to question his report.

  “South to north actually, but it takes a western turn at Mainz.” Paul took a deep breath. Calm down. “We’ll pick it up again in a moment and it’ll take us to Koblenz. There I can recalibrate my instruments.”

  Being so close to the ground gave them their first up-close view of Germany. The peaceful tableau appeared incongruous after the violence of the air war. They flew over a farm. The farmer plowing his field looked up at them with his mouth hanging open, allowing his horse to veer off the row he was following. A car on a nearby road came to an abrupt halt as the driver gawked. Rejoining the Rhine, Paul clapped his hands.

  “How about checking out the Rhine like you checked out the Mississippi?”

  Aubrey immediately nudged the Princess lower. “Good idea. Herb, can you raise any fighters to provide us with an escort?”

  “Can they still get us with their flak?” Howard
sounded worried.

  “They shouldn’t be able to depress their guns this low.” Art spun around and gave Paul a thumbs up. “Even if they could, they won’t see us coming until we’re on them and beyond.”

  Ancient castles stood along the river, keeping watch over the towns. Paul stood at the window and stared. They had nothing like this in America. Too bad he didn’t have a camera. He’d never get another opportunity. At least, he hoped not.

  “The people look too surprised to see us to react in time,” Ben remarked.

  “Wave to them. Let them know we’re the friendly type.” Paul looked ahead. “Okay, we’re coming up on Koblenz.” He returned to his seat and his instruments.

  As they flew over the city, Paul hopped up for another glance out the window. Children interrupted their play in a park to stare up at them. He waved to them, and some waved back. Chuckling, he concentrated on his instruments and gave Aubrey a precise heading.

  Koblenz, Germany

  Same Day

  Heidi and Karla sat on a park bench with eleven-month-old Katarina while three-year-old Ludwig played with two other children. Karla told Heidi about her husband’s letter. “Wolfgang wrote they will be able to work on farms in summer. He looks forward to that. Some prisoners work in canning factories, but he wants to be outdoors. Being restricted to the small prison camp is hard on him. He says Wisconsin has lots of apples and cherries in a place called Door where they may go in the fall. Did you see these orchards?”

  “Oh, yes. Door County is full of them. We went to pick our own apples with the Mikolskys the second year we were there.” Heidi laughed. “Rachel’s boyfriend, Paul, climbed a ladder and tossed apples down to Rachel and me. Of course, we sampled the apples while we picked. We went home with stomachaches from eating so many. Karla, they were so good.” So many happy memories. “That was eight years ago. I miss those days.”

  A roaring noise interrupted their conversation. Karla, looking beyond Heidi, jumped up, her jaw dropping. Heidi looked back and leapt to her feet as well. A large, four-motor airplane thundered over the park at treetop height. The propellers on two engines stood motionless. The white star on its wingtip identified it as an American bomber. Men were visible in the glass nose, the cockpit, and the large side window. They did not fire the guns protruding from the plane. They waved. In seconds, the damaged bomber was past them.

  “That was huge,” breathed Karla.

  Ludwig came running to his mother. “Mama, Mama, did you see the airplane? Max said it was from America. Do they know Papa?”

  “Oh, liebchen, I don’t think so. America is far away, and they are here. They missed seeing Papa.” She ran a hand through her little boy’s hair as his face fell.

  Heidi stood transfixed, staring after the bomber. Slowly, she sank back down on the bench, still looking north. “When I see those American planes,” she whispered, “I wonder if anyone I knew in Milwaukee is flying in them.”

  “Having wreaked havoc on another German city,” Karla reminded her.

  Tears slipped from Heidi’s eyes. Why, oh why, did they have to be fighting the Americans? Life in America had been wonderful. Fighting the British and the Russians had been bad enough, but those countries were populated by strangers. She pictured again the damage on the bomber. It hadn’t looked like it could get safely back to England.

  Karla gathered her children and their belongings. “It will be good to get out of the city. I’ll get started this very day on the paperwork to relocate.”

  Heidi stared at her cousin. Oh, right. She’d invited her to come to Bickenbach. “Surely the authorities will agree to let you move.”

  “They’ll probably be glad to see me go. Someone suggested evacuating after the last bombing. The thought of living with strangers who would likely resent our presence gives me shivers. I didn’t know I had kin in the country. This will be fun.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Ridgewell Air Base, England

  Tuesday, April 18, 1944

  The Claptrap was returning severely damaged and an hour behind everyone else. Nearly cut in half, the crew reported. They had been ordered to bail out and the pilots would then aim the wreckage for the sea before bailing out themselves.

  Paul heard the news while in interrogation. He shoved his logbook over to Quinn and hurried to the control tower. Claptrap was Rafe Martell’s plane. Finding out what would happen to Rafe and his crewmates was more important.

  Tomorrow he and Rafe would be going to visit Rafe’s cousin in a British prisoner of war camp. Hard to imagine the two cousins, closer than brothers, were now enemies who hadn’t seen each other in years. Kind of like Rachel and Heidi, but this was a family torn apart. Rafe would be devastated if he broke a leg and ended up in the hospital, unable to see Christoph.

  The slash through the top of the plane’s fuselage was obvious from the ground. A German fighter had to have crashed into them to do that kind of damage. How’d they manage to get back to England?

  Men began dropping out of the rear door, and soon parachutes billowed above them. As an officer, Rafe would probably be one of the last men out. The last man dove out of the plane, holding his position for precious seconds before tucking and rolling upright. Paul laughed. That had to be Rafe, acting like he was on a lark.

  Paul grabbed a bike and sped to Rafe’s likely landing spot. What in blue blazes was Rafe doing now? Flexing, twisting, back and forth. At the last moment, he tugged on his risers to manage his landing. His feet touched ground, but the billowing parachute forced him to run a few paces to prevent being dragged. The chute snagged on a light post and collapsed. Rafe stopped in front of Paul, and leaned over, hands on his knees.

  “Afternoon, Rafe.” Paul leaned against a nearby jeep. “I understand we’re going visiting tomorrow.”

  “It’ll be something out of the routine.” Rafe was winded, but seemed exhilarated. Like he actually enjoyed falling out of an airplane.

  “No kidding.” Paul straightened up. “Interested in biking to the local village?”

  “That sounds good. I could use a little physical activity after being cramped in the nose all morning.”

  Paul grinned. “That was quite the physical activity you were doing on the way down.” He brought up one knee, then scissored his foot back and forth.

  Rafe groaned. “Having never jumped before, I tried a few practice maneuvers.”

  “Yeah, we ought to practice parachute jumps. Having a good jump under our belts would be beneficial.” Paul took a big jump and flexed his knees low on landing. “Like shock absorbers, right?”

  Together they jumped and flexed.

  Two ground personnel arrived in a jeep to take Rafe to interrogation. Watching the officers practice their jumps, they shook their heads. One of them muttered, “Crazy flyboys.”

  Bickenbach, Germany

  Same Day

  Heidi and Gretchen pounded stakes in the garden for the tomato plants. Gretchen rose from her knees with a groan. “Do you think we planted enough?”

  Heidi laughed. “You’ll appreciate all the tomatoes we’ll can. Potatoes get boring real fast when there’s nothing else, but these will add variety. Cabbage and crushed tomatoes mixed with the potatoes will make a tasty meal. At least this job is done. We should see how Karla’s doing with the children.”

  Heidi brushed off her knees as a distant sound of thunder reached them. The girls looked up at the sunny, cloudless sky. Another armada of American bombers flew boldly over Germany. Coming from the southeast, they must be headed back to England. Had the plane skimming over Koblenz made it back?

  The ground underfoot vibrated as the roar of the engines rolled across the countryside. Such a massive display of power sent chills down Heidi’s back. One of the airplanes struggled to stay in formation as it passed. It lost altitude and smoke poured from two engines. Heidi jumped when one of the engines exploded. She dug her nails into her sister’s hand, and Gretchen whimpered. As they watched the drama taking place in
the widening distance, men jumped from the stricken plane, their parachutes billowing open. Heidi counted ten chutes floating down when the wing with the exploded engine broke off the plane. The wing dropped straight down while the plane veered off and nosed over. Soon, black smoke rose in the distance.

  “Serves the gangsters right.”

  Heidi whirled around to face a thin woman with angular features. Sharp nose, sharp chin, sharp elbows. Bumping into her could hurt. Heidi bit her lip. The woman was obviously a refugee who had known hard times. She needed compassion, not petty thoughts. “Are you looking for someone?”

  “Are you the dressmaker?”

  “I am.”

  “Then I’m looking for you.” The woman shoved a length of fabric into Heidi’s hands and pulled a young girl out from behind her. “I want you to sew a dress for my daughter. When will you have it done?”

  Heidi unfolded the bundle to discover two pieces of material. They looked familiar. So thin as to be practically transparent, they were hardly adequate to be fashioned into a youngster’s dress. A hem lined one end. Casual inspection revealed it to be a hem she had sewn.

  She raised her gaze to the refugee. “These are Frau Eimermann’s curtains.”

  The woman’s eyes widened, but she stood taller and lifted her chin. “Strictly ornamental and unnecessary. My daughter needs a dress.”

  “Did Frau Eimermann give you permission to take these?”

  “My daughter needs a dress.”

  The shrill tone grated like fingernails scratching on a blackboard. Caution was needed here. She turned and, in an undertone, told Gretchen, “Ride your bicycle to Frau Eimermann’s and ask if she knows about this.”

  Gretchen scurried off, looking pleased to be free of a sticky situation. If only Heidi could do likewise.

  “Ma’am, this material is not suitable for a dress.” She held it up to the sun. “See how worn it is? If this was sewn into a dress, any movement your daughter makes would tear the fabric. One washing will shred it. It was delegated to be curtains because it’s not even fit for the rag bag.”