Guns At Cassino

by Leo Kessler

  The boy caught his look.

  `Subscriptions from our workers,' he said proudly, 'sacrificed to help the cause.'

  `Pinched on the trains, you mean,' the enormous woman growled, coiling her long blonde hair into tight plaited snails above her ears. 'And I bet they only gave us half of what they pinched, the bastards.'

  `You're a cynic, Erna.'

  She poked a tobacco-stained finger like a sausage at her enormous bosom and snorted.

  `If you'd have been as long in the Movement as I have, laddie, you'd be a cynic too. You know what Comrade Lenin said about the German working classes - they'd always be too scared to step on the lawn to start a revolution ... You and your workers, you've still got eggshell behind your ears. All right, you don't need to look at me like that. I'm a realist that's all. Now then, what do you want me to do with that?' she jerked a thumb in Schulze's direction.

  Schulze opened his mouth to tell her he didn't fancy her doing anything with him, but decided against it. He closed his mouth again and let the boy do the talking; it might be safer.

  The youngster hurriedly explained the situation, while the fat woman listened in silence, puffing at a thin black cigar. Finally she turned and stared at Schulze, as if she were trying to read his mind.

  `All right,' she said in the end. 'I'll have a go at it. Now listen – and listen carefully to what I'm going to say' Again she poked her sausage-like finger at the big white right breast which kept escaping from her gown every time she moved, as if it led an independent life from the rest of her body.

  `All right, I'll play my Sister Klara role. You've got a head wound? She tapped her forehead. 'You haven't got all your cups in your cupboard any more – it shouldn't be too difficult for you to play that role. You don't look too swift in the upper storey as it is. Anyway, I'm taking you to Professor Sauerbruch, the surgeon at the Charité Hospital in Berlin, to see if he can clear away the cobwebs in your big wooden nut.'

  `But if they're looking for me at the railway station, won't the chain-dogs recognize my big handsome mug?' Schulze protested.

  Fat Erna shook her head in disgust so that her whole enormous body shook.

  `It just goes to show how thick you SS men are! You'll have a flaming bandage round it, won't you, if you've had a head wound! We'll fix it so that even your stupid mother won't recognize it.'

  `But even then I'll need papers.'

  `You ask too many questions, soldier,' the boy interjected. `But you have risked your life to help me and I must help you' His voice rose fervently. We have comrades everywhere these days, waiting for the day when the reckoning with the fascists begins - '

  Schulze gave one of his celebrated farts and brought the lecture on revolutionary principles to a sudden end. The boy glared at him and the big SS man said:

  `I'm sorry, son, it just slipped out like that.'

  `Yes, the fat woman butted in, 'and let that be the only thing that slips out. I know you shitting SS men. I'm not having you trying to get your hand up my skirt or having a fly feel at my tits. Because if you try it on, I'll have your hand off smartish. Understand, soldier?' she growled.

  Schulze gulped. 'Yes, I understand, miss,' he said meekly. `All right then, this is the way we're going to pull it off...’

  `You understand, von Dodenburg,' Wagner said easily after Schellenberg had gone, 'that I shall have to keep an eye on you till you meet that man of yours and fly off with your popguns? I hope you don't mind. But I think it is in everybody's interests.'

  Von Dodenburg nodded morosely and sipped at the Kron which Kitty had just brought in. He did not say anything; his mind was too full of his father's words on the telephone. They were going to get rid of the Führer 'by force', his father had said.

  `Don't look so glum, Major,' Wagner said cheerfully, a little flushed from the schnapps. We've got to spend the night together, so we might as well enjoy ourselves. Though I must confess to you that after working in this place on and off for the last couple of years, my tastes have become - how shall I put it - rather refined.'

  `What do you mean?' von Dodenburg asked dully, his speech beginning to slur a little with the fiery spirit.

  `What about having a look?' The big black-uniformed adjutant, who, as von Dodenburg now knew, kept tabs on Himmler for Schellenberg, reached over easily and pressed the bell on the table.

  Kitty appeared almost immediately, her face freshly roughed, her lips bright scarlet, ready for the evening's customers.

  `Yes, Hans-Werner?'

  `Are they there?'

  `They're there, Hans-Werner, but - ,’ she hesitated.

  `But, what?' Wagner bellowed. 'They've come, haven't they? So they know what they're shiningly well here for!'

  `I know, but they are - so young.' The brothel owner's eyes flashed across to von Dodenburg as if she might find support there, but von Dodenburg's mind was too occupied with the question: what should he do?

  `So what, they've all got to start somewhere. Shit on the Christmas tree, Kitty, you should know that! And what's the difference between them and your trained performing seals - it's tighter, that's all. Go on, woman, bring them in!'

  The first girl came through the big doors boldly, her budding breasts thrust out provocatively. The second girl, clad like the first in the black and white uniform of the Union of German Maidens, was just as pretty, but hesitant, almost fearful so that Kitty had to give her a gentle push and propel her into the room.

  For a moment the five of them stood there awkwardly: Kitty, the pandar; Wagner, his eyes running up and down the girls' slim young bodies with naked hunger; von Dodenburg, puzzled and nervous; and the two girls neither of whom looked a day over fourteen, the willing and the unwilling victims. Wagner was first to break the silence.

  `Well, von Dodenburg, didn't I say that my tastes were rather - er - refined? All right, Kitty, you've done your duty, now you can get back to your performing seals.' He grinned, not taking his eyes off the first girl with the provocative breasts tilting through the thin material of her white uniform blouse. `There is a war to be won, even in Salon Kitty isn't there?'

  The black-clad Madam hesitated, then she shrugged slightly and closed the big doors behind her.

  `Come, my little rabbit,' Wagner said, crooking his finger at the first Maiden, 'come and sit on my knee. Uncle won't hurt you.'

  The girl giggled and came forward willingly enough, as if she were only too eager to get on with it and have it over and done with. She sat down carelessly on his knee, the short black skirt riding up her bare legs to reveal the simple white panties below. Wagner placed his hand over her breast. She giggled again and made a half-hearted attempt to push his hand away.

  `Come on, Heidi.' she simpered. 'Don't let the officer wait.'

  She indicated von Dodenburg, who knew now what Wagner meant by his 'refined' tastes. Heidi, a pale blonde with serious blue eyes, came forward hesitantly; then with a visible effort of will sat herself on his knee.

  `That's the way,' Wagner roared, pleased with the two girls' reactions, and handed his girl a drink. 'Come on, my little rabbit. Drink up. The night may be cool!'

  Again the Maiden giggled and seizing the glass, emptied it in one go. Wagner pretended amazement.

  `That is what the Führer means by total war, von Dodenburg!' he gasped. 'Even the youngest folk comrade can empty a glass of schnapps in no seconds! Here, little rabbit, have another one.'

  `Do you want one?' von Dodenburg asked the girl on his lap. She shook her head. Her thin hand touched the medals on his stained grey tunic.

  `Knight's Cross, Silver Wound Medal, Combat Infantry Badge, you have them all, Major, you must be a very brave man?'

  He laughed softly despite his mood.

  `You know all about medals and you a girl?' he asked.

  Her beautiful face grew serious.

  `In our home evenings (2) we learn all about medals, Major. The Youth Group Leader says it is important to know what our brave soldiers are giving their blood
for.'

  `So you think it's medals that soldiers fight for?' he asked. `But don't answer that question, please. Tell me why you are here instead?'

  `I'll tell you, von Dodenburg,' Wagner butted in a little breathlessly, taking his hand from beneath the other Maiden's skirt,-and winking. 'Because these two darlings feel that they must do something for their Fatherland and the brave men – us – who sacrifice their everything for it. In their turn they are prepared to sacrifice a little thing for us, aren't you, dear?' he squeezed his girl's waist.

  With his free hand, Wagner raised his glass.

  `Come on, von Dodenburg, drink. Time is short and art is long. Live a little!' He lowered his voice, his bottom lip wet and gleaming. 'Don't they appeal to you like me? Those little breasts, that faint thatch down there – so nice, and clean and unspoiled - '

  `Pig!' his girl cried and pulled his glass towards her lips.

  `Drink, my darling,' he yelled uproariously. 'But I'm not a pig. That Yid Heine knew what he was talking about when he wrote, 'Thou art like a flower, so beautiful, so loyal, so pure.'

  `Oh, shut up, Captain,' his girl said and drained the glass. `Pure indeed - I was brought up in Berlin-Wedding. (3) There's not much pure there, I can tell you.'

  Wagner laughed delightedly.

  `Do you see what I mean, von Dodenburg? How deliciously corrupt. A child-whore, spoiled at fourteen. But what does it matter? How beautiful and innocent she is, despite what already has been up that delightful skirt.'

  The next instant Wagner had lifted her into his arms, as if she were no weight at all. Rising effortlessly to his feet, but swaying a little with the drink, he stumbled to the door. There he paused and fumbled to open it with one hand, while the girl clung to his neck, her skirt thrown back to reveal her white smooth legs, giggling stupidly. He took one last look at von Dodenburg and the red-faced girl on his knee. Then with the heel of his gleaming jackboot he crashed the door closed behind him.

  Von Dodenburg had taken her cruelly and violently, aware that her screams and struggle were both genuine and specious, feeling as he did so that she, too, was like the world all around him; already rotten, heading for corruption and putrefaction.

  Afterwards she had not cried, but lain there moaning, as if he had inflicted actual physical pain upon her. But he had no mercy; in that moment he had almost hated her. He had pressed his hand up between her smooth young legs and touched the heated crevice between them again. She had gasped with fear and wriggled her child's hips to try to free herself. She had screamed and he had clapped his hand over her mouth and while she had struggled like a wild animal trying desperately to free itself from a trap, he had thrust himself upon her once more.

  The third time he had tormented her, changing his position over and over again, preventing himself from achieving an orgasm, pressing her thin legs high above her head and ploughing her body furiously until she, too, began to feel pleasure and desire. She bit his shoulder and even in his pain, he felt a sense of awareness that she, too, was corrupt now like the whole of Germany was corrupt - like the Reichsführer, Schellenberg, Geier, Wagner, even his own father.

  He felt no pleasure, just rage at the injustice of it all. Heidi had experienced a kind of frenzy. Screaming and biting she had writhed back and forth frighteningly, as if she were now riding him and not the other way around, her mouth open, her lips gleaming, uttering obscenities - learned God knows where. And then suddenly she had arched her spine, stopping in the middle of a wild movement, digging her nails into his buttocks so that it hurt and had screamed through gritted teeth,

  `Oh, shit … shit ... shit …’

  Now as the clock struck midnight somewhere, he watched her exhausted face in the silver darkness of the moonlight pouring through the unblacked-out window, silence everywhere save for the persistent squeak of bedsprings somewhere else in the brothel, and felt his rage change slowly to sadness. For this immature girl, who had sacrificed herself to him because he was one of 'our brave soldiers'; for himself, because he knew now that he, too, had been betrayed; for all the honest people in Germany who were still working, sacrificing, fighting and dying in vain for a once great cause that had already sold out behind their backs. The hours passed leadenly. At about two a siren began to sound in the far-off suburbs. A couple of searchlight beams sliced into the night sky and began to probe the silver darkness. But the Tommy raiders they expected did not appear and they flicked off again after a while. And still he could not solve his problem.

  He tossed and turned and tried to get to sleep, attempting to force the issue out of his mind. But the problem simply would not go away. He could not betray his father, that he knew. But he could not also betray his Führer and Fatherland. What in heaven's name was he going to do?

  Dawn came, harsh, grey and wintery, a typical Berlin morning. But even its cold greyness could not impair the guilelessness of the girl's sleeping face. Her lips were opening and closing now, as if she were thirsty. He bent down and pressed a kiss on them softly. Her breath was sweet. She stirred slightly, but did not wake. He put his hand gently on her breast and massaged the nipple gently. It began to grow erect under his touch.

  Slowly her legs arched and began to part. The covers slipped away from her stomach and he could see the smooth white curve of her thighs, decorated by the dark pubic puff. Cautiously he placed his other hand on her stomach. She did not stir. He let it glide down the white slope. He hesitated. She looked so childishly innocent that he felt himself choke. But there is no more innocence he told himself harshly. His fingers slipped into the dark hair. Her breath began to come more rapidly. Rhythmically her buttocks commenced moving up and down, slowly at first, but growing ever quicker as he increased his fondling.

  Suddenly her eyes flickered open. For a moment he could see that she did not understand what was happening to her, who he was and where they were. Then her thin arms groped round his neck and her mouth opened for him to kiss her. As he bent to do so, she parted her legs expectantly. He raised himself and pressed his hands under her firm buttocks.

  `Wider,' he gasped, feeling lust overcome him now.

  He lowered himself carefully between the white cradle of her legs. She grunted as his weight descended upon her, the grunt turning into a gasp, whether of pain or pleasure, von Dodenburg neither knew nor cared in his excitement. Brutally and pleasurably he thrust himself inside her. Her loins writhed up to meet him, as if her body could not receive enough of him.

  `Good ...oh, good,' she quavered, and let it happen once again.

  Two hours later, Wagner was hammering on the door, naked save for his polished jackboots and the revolver belt around his waist. One arm was clasped around the other girl, who was swaying drunkenly, long hair dangling over her face. In his other hand, he held a bottle of champagne and four glasses.

  `Ah, ah, Major von Dodenburg,' he chortled, as von Dodenburg opened up for him and he saw the girl stretched naked and exhausted on the rumpled bed, 'frolicking with little girls, eh? Don't you know, sir, that that is a punishable offence in our brave new National Socialist Germany?' He grinned. 'Come on Kuno, Madame Kitty is going to give us a champagne breakfast – real French champus too. None of your Saar muck - '

  It was then that von Dodenburg punched him very neatly on the jaw. As the glasses fell to the floor and the big adjutant swayed backwards, taken off his guard completely, the Wotan officer followed up his punch with a swift kick to Wagner's genitals which sent him smashing to the wall. Ignoring the screaming girls and the big naked SD man with the vomit trickling from his wildly gasping mouth, slowly sliding down the wall, von Dodenburg picked up his clothes and equipment. His mind was made up at last.

  Eleven

  `All right,' Big Erna hissed, as they crouched together in the little copse of pines overlooking the suburban station of Reinbek, 'now pin back your big ears and listen to what I'm going to say because I'm only going to say it once. Right?'

  `Right?' Schulze whispered, half amused, half imp
ressed by this monstrous woman who was risking her life to get him back to Berlin.

  `The hospital train gets in from the front punctually at midnight. Then the head-hunters will seal of the platform down there and the barriers to the street, in case any civvie who might be about still sees the wounded being unloaded. The powers-that-be naturally do not want their folk comrades to see the mess they are making of the fighting on the Russian front. But I don't need to tell you that, Schulze, you've been there, haven't you?'

  `That I have, missus. I've been there twice and I've had a noseful.'

  `More fool you,' she grunted. 'It's thick-headed fools like you with their brains between their legs who keep the imperialists in power. But no matter now. The train will leave for Hamburg, take on leave men returning to the front and a new hospital crew. Of course there'll be a check at Hamburg, but no one will suspect that we will be aboard. So', she took a hasty glance at the luminous dial of her watch, raising it up to the moon's beams: 'as soon as we're aboard, head for the other rank latrines at the far end and stay in there till we've left Hamburg Main Station. Clear?'

  `Clear. Just one thing, though.'

  `Yes?' she said impatiently.

  From up the line there came the faint steady puffing of a heavily laden train. On the platform, the blue lamps were beginning to light up and there was the sound of heavy military boots.

  `How are we going to get off when the train stops again in Berlin? There must be a check there.'

  Big Erna laughed softly this time with genuine mirth.

  `Sister Klara has got an answer for that one, soldier. Never fear. Look.'

  With considerable speed for such an enormous woman, she flipped up the back of her loose white nurse's skirt to reveal a brief glimpse of great buttocks, covered by tightly stretched sheer black panties.