Entering the compact living space which was warm but unkempt, Hawkins lit a lamp as Bauer flopped down upon a poorly upholstered chair and wheezed. He was clearly being courageous considering his wounds. Granger also flopped down and laid his head back on a settee, his body and mind numb.
“Make us a brew, John?” He called out as if talking to a subservient wife. Hawkins duly obliged by rattling pots and pans and rummaging through cupboards for powdered milk and sugar. Genevieve sat gingerly upon a rickety wooden rocking chair where she kept her pistol trained on Bauer who cared little for her vigilance. Nothing to him was more important now than sleep.
By the time Hawkins had boiled the water for a hot drink, Bauer was snoring in his chair and Granger was laying back, his mouth wide open, spittle dribbling from the corner of his quivering maw. Hawkins offered a mug to Genevieve who sat with her heavy head leaning on her elbow, her eyes drooping. She nodded in acceptance and Hawkins pulled up a small chair beside her still clutching his prized brew.
“Are you OK?” Hawkins asked. His question was nonsensical; it was just an excuse to talk a while.
“Yes, thank you.” She replied almost whispering.
“So your mother lives in Caen, what does she do?” Hawkins was poor at small talk but the French girl obliged.
“She makes clothes...for the Nazi's.” Genevieve portrayed a look of disgust. Obviously it was not her mother's first choice occupation.
“You handled yourself well back there. I didn’t think you had it in you.” Hawkins offered a soldier's plaudits.
“When you have lived under the Germans, you quickly learn to adapt to the surroundings.” Genevieve whispered. There was torment etched into her face and a history of horrors.
“I think this German can help us. I know it's hard...” Hawkins was keen to reiterate his policy not to shoot first and ask questions later.
“Do not worry. I will behave.” Genevieve replied, offering the merest of smiles. It was a golden moment for Hawkins who had seen only a serious, intensity from the French girl.
“I never asked...are you married?” Hawkins came across as a little sleazy with his rather direct question. Genevieve let a little murmur of mirth escape her mouth.
“Non.” She smiled at Hawkins and looked away sheepishly. Hawkins could not make her out. She was mercurial at best. One moment she was strong, robust in character, the next, a shy and fragile thing that seemed to need comforting.
Hawkins looked down into his steaming mug. He was not experienced with women and felt a fool when trying to woo them with the tried and tested means.
“You're very beautiful.” He whispered, still looking down into his coffee, his face reddened. “It's a difficult thing to find in this place...beauty.” He added the toll of the conflict present in his eyes. Genevieve looked over to him as if studying his silhouette before extending a cold hand to his which found warmth in the ceramic coffee cup. Hawkins smiled and looked at her deep and moist brown eyes. At that moment, he would exchange everything he had to kiss her but knew that it was surely too complicated. Genevieve studied the young man who was handsome despite his rather dirty appearance.
“Do you trust me?” She whispered, her hand still grasping his.
“Of course.” He replied, wondering what she meant.
Genevieve purposefully stood and beckoned Hawkins to follow her from the living room where Bauer and Granger both slept fast. Hawkins heart fluttered as he realised what the girl was suggesting.
“What about...” Hawkins was silenced by a finger across his lips and was subsequently led out of the living room and up the dark staircase to the rooms above.
In total darkness, Genevieve explored the landing and pushed open a door which seemed to lead to a bedroom. The smell of old wooden wardrobes and pot pourri wafted into Hawkins nose and before his eyes had time to adjust, a pair of warm, wet lips were pursed across his mouth and the slender form of Genevieve’s body was pressed into his. Dropping his mug of coffee to the soft long pile carpet he embraced her, his hands wandering across her back and down to her buttocks. He could feel herself hitching her dress up around her waist and he was astounded that he was fortunate enough to be in a position to take this woman there and then. Having stepped daintily from her underwear. Genevieve began to flick the straps from her burgundy frock and Hawkins could now see her glimmering figure from the moonlight which shone through the small window. He reached out to her naked body and ran his hands across her warm skin longing to bury his face into her breast and savour her sweet skin smell.
Genevieve was indeed the darkest of horses and she was adept at removing his various webbing and accoutrements with little problem. Struggling to be free of his heavy and dirty uniform, the soft luxury of his naked skin against hers was almost too much to bear. Folding themselves down upon the bed, Hawkins entered her quickly and was satisfied with the most sumptuous of physical sensations. It was a release of some magnitude; suddenly his survival seemed so much sweeter now he had been rewarded for his efforts. Hawkins and Genevieve writhed around in carnal pleasure for only the briefest of minutes until they struggled to contain their passions and Hawkins was forced to bury his face in the pillow to avoid roaring with ecstasy as his body climaxed.
Hawkins lay back, awash with a head rush of morphine like euphoria. Genevieve sat up and walked over to the window as her lover admired her shapely form.
“Are you OK?” He asked, detecting a sense of introspection from his woman. It had all happened so fast, he barely had time to comprehend his own actions.
“Yes.” She whispered. Hawkins suddenly became very paranoid that it had not gone quite according to plan.
“I'm sorry. It was quick.” He whispered apologetically. Genevieve nodded, her gaze still firmly transfixed out of the window.
“Put your clothes back on.” She said coolly as she turned and bent down to retrieve her panties.
Hawkins was devastated at her clinical attitude. Their encounter had clearly not meant as much to her as it did him. The young soldier duly obliged and as he struggled in the darkness to put his uniform back on, Genevieve slipped out of the room and could be heard to walk back downstairs. Hawkins paused in the darkness and buried his face in his hands. His throat grew dry and he struggled to fight back a convulsive fit of tears. He could smell her scent all over him, it was there to remind him of his stupidity but also her enduring allure which he could not resist.
Hawkins crept back down the stairs and entered the relatively bright living room. Genevieve sat, once again pistol in hand trained on the German. Granger was surprisingly awake.
“Oh mate, did you find the bog...I’m desperate.” Granger said as he hoisted himself to his feet and brushed his way past his friend and into the hallway.
Hawkins sat on the settee, eyes reddened and heart hardened by his experience. Genevieve did not even give him the courtesy of a glance. The young soldier looked over to Bauer who had fallen asleep where he had fallen and closed his own eyes. He had learned that trust was not a straightforward concept. Genevieve had turned in the blink of an eye from a confident character who knew what she wanted into a repressed introvert who acted as if he had just taken advantage of her and abused her friendship. Hawkins felt guilty and dirty. He could not accept that moment for what it was; clearly an act of selfish abandon that was quickly regretted. Hawkins had fallen asleep by the time Granger returned from his travels. The tiredness was such that any notion of guarding their prisoner was washed away in a sea of dreams. Granger too, fell quickly into a slumber as he lay on the settee next to his friend and the small hours of the morning passed by.
CHAPTER 15
“Wakey wakey, rise and shine!”
Hawkins eyes fluttered open, the streaming morning daylight pained his senses and he immediately felt stiff as if he had slept in the most unusual of positions. As the Brit regained some level of awareness, he realised that the dulcet tones of his German captive had wrestled him from a blissful sleep although th
ere were far worse ways to have been dragged into the here and now. His blurry eyes blinking furiously, Hawkins took little time to realise that his guard had dropped and his foe, no matter how genial was now sitting opposite him clutching his very own Sten sub-machine gun menacingly. Granger sat beside him, upright and stern faced. He too had been disarmed, perhaps like Hawkins without a great deal of resistance.
“Fucking Krauts.” The corporal muttered clearly embarrassed by his fall from grace. Genevieve sat in the rocking chair with her face in her hands looking decidedly sheepish.
“Good morning, one and all.” Bauer spoke softly with a smile. No matter how gentle his tones, Hawkins felt a chill at being at the mercy of an armed German soldier. He prayed that he would extend the same mercy as he had offered earlier that morning.
“What happened?” Hawkins whispered to Granger who shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.
“Fucking hell.” Hawkins berated himself as he realised that they must have all fallen asleep and been easy prey.
“Genevieve, are you OK?” Hawkins asked as Bauer looked over to the clearly upset woman and rolled his eyes.
“She is fine. Nothing that a hot bath would not sort out.” Bauer jested causing Genevieve to curse in her native language under her breath. Hawkins looked at the German's stockpile of weapons he had collected from each of them which sat dormant next to him on the settee.
“What now?” Hawkins asked hoping to appeal to Bauer's sense of nobility. The German shrugged his shoulders and turned the corners of his mouth down.
“To tell you the truth, I had not thought that far ahead.” He calmly replied.
“We are more use to you alive.” Hawkins was quick to add even if he sounded a little desperate.
“Oh?” Bauer urged him to continue his hastily conceived plea. Hawkins looked over to George who raised his eyebrows in a confused manner.
“Well, one man on his own against even one of those smelly things surely has no chance...” Hawkins was clutching at straws and he knew it. Bauer nodded appreciative of his enemies offer.
“I'm honoured you have my well-being in mind, most kind.” The German replied sarcastically. Breathing in deeply, Bauer leaned back on the settee and gathered his thoughts.
“Let me tell you where I stand. I have no wish to prolong any sense of fear; I have no will to harm you but please do not underestimate me. I will defend myself with lethal force if you push me.” Bauer spoke slowly and was suddenly stern and Hawkins knew that his humorous exterior belied his stature as a battle hardened soldier.
“It is my intention to travel to Caen. As much as it pains me, you will unfortunately be my prisoners until such time that your safe custody can be arranged.”
“If you don't want us tagging along, why not just let us go then?” Granger choked, it was clear that his desperation was more apparent than others.
“Ah, thank you for kindly offering to remove yourselves from my burden, unfortunately however, I cannot just release British soldiers back into the field of conflict. Not only would this not be acceptable to my superiors, you might also decide to continue your invasion plans and my fellow soldiers might come to considerable harm. In light of the current...'events', it might also be...unethical. As you say, what chances have two unarmed men against the Kalte Soldaten?”
Genevieve looked up, her pale and stern features revealed for the first time in the daylight. Hawkins was quick to take note of them.
“The what, mate?” Granger asked in a poorly constructed question for a foreigner's comprehension.
“The Kalte Soldaten. It is a term that the German troops have grown accustomed to using to describe their strange new allies.”
“What does it mean?” Hawkins asked with morbid fascination.
“It means 'cold soldier'.” Bauer said finishing with a furrowed brow.
“Where have they come from?” Hawkins was quick to ask and Genevieve looked particularly interested in this conversation. Bauer chewed his tongue for a number of seconds and Hawkins got the impression that he either did not know or that he was not telling if he did.
“I am not at liberty to say, although as you have seen, they are...a problem.” Bauer finally replied after mulling it over. Granger laughed and only when he realised everyone was staring at him, did he offer a reason for his outburst.
“It's fucking hilarious. The German's fighting each other.” George looked slightly embarrassed by his own rather untimely opinion.
“Quite.” Bauer replied casting aside the tactless Brit.
“Let me expand and offer you at least a flavour of the scale of the problem.” The German continued, his tone becoming more serious.
“At the last count, there were three hundred. We can estimate that perhaps fifty have been eliminated at considerable costs. It is my intention to halt the march of these things before it is too late for both your country and mine.” Hans Bauer looked deep into Hawkins' eyes and sent a statement of intent in no uncertain terms.
“Three hundred!” Granger interjected. “We lost thousands yesterday!”
“Indeed, this is the scale of our problem.” Bauer added with sinister overtones.
“But they aren’t just killing German's are they?” Hawkins piped up looking over to a silent Genevieve, remembering the dead and missing civilians from her town.
“They are not.” Bauer replied with an economy of truth, it was clear he was holding back.
“If three hundred could wipe out thousands of Allied troops...” Hawkins did the sums in his head.
“You are a bright one, my friend.” Bauer noted as he ran his fingers through his short crop of fine blonde hair.
“Why?” The young Brit questioned. It was an answer that was not going to be answered as Bauer shrugged his shoulders.
“So what's in Caen then that's so important?” Granger asked now finding the situation sharply coming into focus. Genevieve perked up, her interest in Caen clear as Hawkins remembered her mother who was a resident. Bauer smiled. He knew but was keeping his cards very close to his chest.
“Caen, for you means and end to the war.” Bauer's vague reply gave no comfort to the Brits who sat like schoolboys before the headmaster.
“And now we must go.” The German added with an air of finality.
*
Marching his three prisoners out of the farmhouse and back to the car, Bauer struggled with his new armaments. Granger's heavy Bren machine gun in one hand and Hawkins' Sten in another, his pockets were filled with Webley pistols and Genevieve's own sleek piece which she had retrieved from her undergarments probably under some duress. Mounting the rattling grey vehicle, Granger once again drove and Hawkins was positioned in the front passenger seat. Bauer sat behind his weapons clanging against each other as he squeezed himself into the tight confines of the rear seat.
Genevieve continued her extended silence. Hawkins felt that she was strangely quiet since they had all awoken; her usual belligerence to the German was tempered. The Brit wondered if there had been any conversation between them before he had risen. At least she was getting her wish; she was travelling to Caen and could pursue the fate of her mother if Bauer felt so inclined to offer her that freedom.
The morning sky was overcast and miserable. In the distance, the sun's light was tempered by black plumes of smoke in the distance and the occasional pop of explosions in the far distance could be heard over the noisy engine and whistling wind of the car. Hawkins looked into the rear view mirror and caught a glimpse of Genevieve in the right rear seat. She sat passively looking into the distance as if all the cares in the world were at that moment far away. Hawkins wondered there and then if she was in fact quite insane. She was an enigma that could not be fathomed. He wanted to hate her for making himself feel so shameful but he could not. He could only stare longingly into the mirror and caress her beautiful face with his eyes. At that moment, Bauer leaned forward and spoke softly into Hawkins' ear.
“Careful with that one.” He said cry
ptically and then sat back smiling at the Brit as he turned to look at the fatherly German figure. Hawkins turned back around and grimaced with annoyance. There was one thing knowing that the girl was trouble, there was another thing being told it by a man with a gun at your back.
CHAPTER 16
As a light drizzle of rain began to lay a thin film of water upon the windscreen, Hawkins cursed the fact that they had acquired an open topped vehicle. Granger drove wide-eyed and with a fair pace as Bayeux loomed large in the near distance and it was fair to say, there was an air of nervous tension in the car.
“I do not intend to stop in Bayeux no matter the circumstances, do you understand?” Bauer called out to George who nodded in happy agreement.
“Do you know where you're going, George?” Hawkins inquired as the car barrelled around a tight bend.
“Haven't got a fucking clue, mate.” The reply came as expected.
“I want to avoid the centre of the town.” Bauer shouted to be heard above the onrushing wind.
“Don't we all!” Granger called back.
“I will guide you!” Genevieve piped up unexpectedly; she seemed to have regained her dynamic posture. It seemed to Hawkins that the only time she came to the fore in life was during times of incredible stress.
The road seemed to open up and the high hedgerows gave way to a spattering of small cottages quickly increasing in number and stature. Hawkins looked down to his wristwatch to see what time of day it was, the town was curiously deserted considering it was half past eight. As Granger drove cautiously through the narrow streets as dictated by Genevieve, Hawkins began to understand why. Building fires were evident across the skyline and the pungent smell of wood burning could be detected in the morning air. In the streets of the quite beautiful and historic town, rubbish seemed to be strewn about everywhere. Clothes, children’s toys and suitcases, hastily packed, some burst open were dotted about the pavement as if some mass exodus had occurred. More disturbingly, many bodies also littered the streets and Bauer was keen to move forward and not stop to investigate. Hawkins wondered upon the fate of those who had obviously tried to escape the town but were forced to leave their belongings behind.
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