Cold Lonely Courage

by Soren Petrek

  “Before this is over Willi, the same countries that fought for the same little pieces of land that we bled over will be back here again.”

  “Just think of the poor bastards that are our ages, pulled back onto the line trying to hold back the Allies again.”

  “Well, when they come through, I’m staying on this side,” Stenger said. “I’ve already moved my family to Switzerland. The wife and daughters are there already, permanently visiting my wife’s sister. I find it so hard to believe that our magnificent leaders expected to take this much territory and hold it, and then go and piss off the Russian bear. Every sane military leader knows you can’t fight a war on two fronts forever.”

  “That’s why bachelorhood is so desirable, Horsty. My brothers are scattered all over and my parents are far away from the cities on the farm. So don’t worry, I’ll be right behind you when the Americans come,” Willi said with a wry grin.

  Stenger laughed. Willi was the furthest thing from a coward a man could be. He remembered going over the top of the trench with Willi countless times. Each time he would shrug, clap him on the shoulder, and say, “Who knows Horsty, maybe they got a four star trench over there.” Stenger knew Willi felt the horror. How couldn’t he? Often times their dead were stacked up like cord wood, used to shore up the trench. A frozen body makes pretty good timber. Willi dealt with things with humor. He came from a hard farm life, his father stern but caring. Other members of his family were hard working brew masters. One side grew the hops and the other processed them into one of the tastiest beers around. Willi learned how to cope and squeeze some measure of happiness out of any situation. When Horst had left the military, he encouraged Willi to go into the police force with him. Willi was smart but not ambitious. He didn’t need to be, Horst thought. He’s with me and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  “Well, Willi, I have to get her out of circulation. When the invasion comes and the French are left to their own devices, there will be a lot of killing of collaborators and folks deemed to have collaborated. To her, killing is like tying your shoes. We can’t have her as judge, jury, and executioner. There will be retribution. People are good that way. You’ll see, the ranks of the Resistance will swell as the true danger passes. Everyone will want to seem to have been fighting us all along. The real fighters like our friend here will want to return to their families and their homes to forget about war,” Stenger said, tapping on the thick file he kept of the assassins’ known activities.

  “Do you think this one will? She’s killed a lot of people.”

  “Bad people and traitors exclusively, it seems. Gestapo, SS, you know, Hitler’s henchmen. Who would have thought one Bohemian corporal could cause so much trouble?”

  “I’d like to shoot a few of them myself,” Willi said, wistfully blowing a smoke ring towards the ceiling.”

  “We’ll leave that to the professionals. We’re just policemen trying to catch a killer.”

  “So how do we do that, Mon commandant?” Willi asked, with an exaggerated French accent.

  “We use Von Schmelling as bait, of course,” Horst said with a huge smile.

  “Maybe she’ll get him in the process,” Willi chuckled.

  “That’s what I love about you, my friend, always the optimist.”

  Suddenly there was shouting in the street and the sound of several vehicles stopping abruptly in front of the police station.

  “Now, what?” Stenger said, walking to the front room of the police station. He pulled aside the curtain on the front window and looked out into the street. There were a dozen or so people being herded into the back of a waiting truck. At least two families with small children were being forced by SS soldiers into the back of the vehicle.

  “Jews being arrested?” Willi said.

  “Yes, I think so. Let’s go see.”

  Stenger and Willi walked out into the street and approached one of the SS soldiers standing to the side shouting orders.

  “What’s going on, sergeant?” Stenger asked.

  The sergeant turned in annoyance. His attitude changed when he saw that Stenger was a Major in the military police. He almost fell over himself snapping to attention and saluting.

  “Heil Hitler!” were the first words out of the sergeant’s mouth.

  “Yes, good, right,” Stenger said, returning his salute halfheartedly. “Now I asked you a question soldier. For what offense are these people being arrested?”

  “Jews, sir. They are being transported out of the country.”

  “No criminal offense aside from that? Surely the children haven’t committed any crime,” Stenger asked evenly, already fully aware of the answer.

  “No, sir,” the sergeant answered looking at Stenger a little quizzically. To the SS being a Jew was as significant a crime as one could commit.

  “Of course, but you never know with these people,” Stenger said in a conspiratorial tone putting the man at ease. “Where is the truck headed?”

  It worked. The sergeant didn’t appear to be uneasy in the least. “Down to the train station, Herr Major. We are rounding up several hundred from throughout the area.”

  “Good, good,” Stenger said encouragingly. He patted the sergeant on the back and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, offering him one. “We can’t have them running around loose, now can we?”

  The sergeant smiled, enjoying the praise of a major. Stenger looked as Aryan as a man could. He was tall and blue eyed, a poster boy for the master race. Willi stood to the side expressionless. The only thing that gave away any hint that he was silently enjoying Stenger’s charade was the merriment dancing in his eyes. He knew Stenger was about as far from being a willing member of the master race as a rabbi.

  The truck was loaded and the sergeant and his detail jumped in the back with the families. Stenger caught the stare of one father as he held his young children close. There was panic in his eyes as the man looked at Stenger. Stenger held his gaze and just as the canvas was dropped over the back of the truck, Stenger gave the man the slightest of nods. A flash of surprise showed in the man’s face. He was clearly unsure of what Stenger’s gesture meant.

  As the truck pulled away, Willi walked over to Stenger. “Now what, Horsty? You have that look in your eye,” Willi teased, wagging a finger at him.

  “Now I go down to the train station and figure out how to get those people off that train and onto another one headed some place safe.”

  “Good, let’s go.”

  “I can’t ask you to follow me every time I go crusading, Willi,” Stenger replied.

  “What, and miss some real fun? How unsporting of you, Horsty. By the way, what’s your plan?”

  “No plan. I’ll make one up as I go along.”

  “Well, for once, I have a plan.”

  “I am all ears, Willi.”

  “We’ll join the Gestapo for an hour or so.”

  Stenger looked at Willi quizzically. “How, my friend?”

  “With these,” Willi said, pulling out the two leather Gestapo coats that had been hanging in the hallway when they arrived at the crime scene.

  “Tell me you have their hats, too, Willi?” Stenger said reaching for one of the coats.

  “In a drawer in the kitchen,” Willi said, smiling.

  “Any particular reason you collected these garments, Willi?”

  “Do you have any idea how easy it is to pick up women on leave when I’m back home in one of these?” Willi said, sliding into one of the long leather coats as the two walked over towards the police station.

  “Willi, Willi, what am I going to do with you?” Stenger chuckled, walking out the front door of the station.

  An hour later Stenger and Willi arrived at the train station in time to see the last of a group of Jewish families being loaded into boxcars.

  Stenger walked over to one of the conductors, a Frenchman holding a clipboard. He was perusing a schedule as Stenger walked up.

  “Good afternoon. Are you the stationmaster here?”
Stenger asked in his most authoritarian manner. He threw in a little contempt for good measure.

  The second the stationmaster saw Stenger’s searing blue eyes burning into him he blanched. Stenger snapped a pair of leather gloves he found in the coat pocket into his hand for effect.

  “Yes,” was all the terrified stationmaster could manage as he took in the rest of Stenger’s costume, the leather coat complimenting the officious sneering expression.

  “Where is that train headed?” Stenger said, gesturing to the train on the opposite track from the one loaded with the Jewish families.

  “Spain, sir.”

  “When do the Jews depart?”

  “Not for several hours sir.”

  Stenger bit back his initial inclination to explode. The families crammed into the locked boxcars would be trapped in the heat as the sun beat down for the remainder of the day while other unfortunate souls were being collected. Stenger knew the people wouldn’t be given water or food, much less any facilities for relieving themselves.

  “And that one?” Stenger said, gesturing to the train bound for Spain.

  “One hour sir,” the man replied, shakily checking his clipboard.

  “No. It leaves when I say it leaves.”

  “But sir, the schedule,” the man replied without thinking.

  Stenger took two steps closer to the stationmaster and backed him into a nearby wall.

  “I want to go to Spain, my French friend. Perhaps you would like to join me for a little ride. We can enjoy the sights together for awhile,” Stenger hissed through clenched teeth, his eyes wild, as if his grip on sanity was just for show.

  The stationmaster could barely breathe. He had visions of Stenger tossing him from the train and shooting him as he ran. Stenger thought the man might actually wet his pants as he stood and shook.

  “When you say so. Yes sir.”

  “Excellent!” Stenger said, instantly stepping back from the man, reaching over to straightening his lapels and patting him affectionately on the cheek. He was all smiles and handshakes for the terrified stationmaster.

  “May I go and see to it, sir?” The man said, sliding towards his office.

  “Yes, go. But I warn you this is top-secret Gestapo business. We are following strict orders from Berlin. I wouldn’t make any phone calls just yet,” Stenger said, as if scolding a young child.

  “Oh, no sir. No sir.”

  “Fine then, off with you,” Stenger said, dismissing the man with a wave of his gloves.

  “Nice work,” Willi said walking up to Stenger.

  “What do you think, Willi? You take the guards on this side on a wild goose chase. How about some vital Gestapo business while I move the people onto the train bound for Spain.”

  “Maybe I should take the guards down to the bar and buy them some drinks?” Willi said, gesturing around the corner.

  “Don’t let them see your face too much, Willi.”

  “Nobody ever looks the Gestapo in the face. All they see are black coats and jack boots. Don’t worry. I’ll excuse myself right after I get them seated and set a couple rounds of drinks in front of them. So be fast, Horsty.”

  “I’ll move them the second I see you go.”

  “What about the stationmaster?”

  “Oh, he gets a bump on the head.”

  “Once a cop, always a cop,” Willi said as he turned and walked towards the two regular army soldiers guarding the boxcars.

  Hours later, Willi and Stenger were two hundred kilometers away from the train station, riding in a Kubelwagen taking an impromptu temporary leave of absence.

  “So how does this little side trip fit into our current investigation, Horsty?” Willi asked, his feet up on the dash as he leaned back, enjoying the last rays of sunlight.

  “We are following leads, Willi. You know that. The game is afoot, as old Sherlock would say.”

  Both men laughed as they drove west into the sunset.

  Several hundred kilometers to the west a man peered through the open door of the westbound train, looking for an opportunity to get off.

  “We have to jump.“ One man said, scanning the terrain for a safe landing spot.

  “Right after we cross the Spanish frontier,” another answered. He was the man who had seen Stenger at the police station and again at the train station. He was able to see a very familiar looking Gestapo agent shouting at the stationmaster through a small crack in the side of the boxcar. He caught another glimpse as the same man moved the families onto the other train.

  “Get everyone ready. Hold onto the children and roll as you land,” the first man said as he threw open the door as the train passed into Spain. It was an express, coming from Italy. It wouldn’t stop now until it got to Barcelona.

  Hundreds of people flung themselves out into the twilight, flying momentarily and then landing along the side of a grass-covered embankment.

  Once he landed, the man collected his wife and children.

  “Who set us free?” The man’s youngest son asked.

  “A policeman, mon fils,” he answered, smiling at his son and silently thanking Stenger as he and his little family stole away into the night.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Günter Von Schmelling stood in front of a full-length mirror, admiring his finely tailored suit. The hours he spent in the saddle kept him lean, along with calisthenics he had performed regularly since his youth. He was from a wealthy old German family and had enjoyed privilege his entire life.

  “I wonder what Father would think of me now?” He muttered towards the mirror, absently ignoring the tailor who stood demurely behind him, awaiting any instructions. “What do you think, Monsieur Leblanc?” Schmelling said.

  “You look splendid Major. The demoiselles will be duly impressed.”

  “Yes, you have outdone yourself, Leblanc. I will need two more uniforms and two casual jackets. I will of course pay in advance for the material to be ordered from Paris as before.”

  “Yes, Major.”

  “You are a good Frenchman, Leblanc. I wish all of your countrymen would accept defeat as easily, unlike those terrorists in the Resistance.”

  “Thank you, Major,” Leblanc said. He had been a merchant for a long time and the customer was always right. In his mind he would make all the tailored uniforms this SS clown wanted. He secretly hoped Von Schmelling would be buried in one of them.

  “I am off then, Leblanc. I will be back in two weeks for a fitting. Put it in your calendar.”

  “Just as you wish, Major.”

  Von Schmelling turned smartly on his heel and was followed out of the building by his two SS guards. He jumped into an open officer’s car and signaled the driver to proceed. The driver careened out into traffic, heedless of the pedestrians scurrying to get out of his way.

  Horst and Willi sat unobtrusively in a small cafe across the street, having followed Von Schmelling to the spot.

  “How much for one of those suits, do you think, Horsty?”

  “Too little. Having to touch Von Schmelling, much less fit him for a suit, would be nasty indeed.”

  “Think he’ll be back?”

  “Well, let’s go find out.”

  The two men left coins for their coffee, such as it was during these times of occupation. The French struggled under the yoke of the invader, required to foot the cost of the occupation. The financial burden, coupled with the deportation of millions of French men and women to work in German factories was crippling, and another reason that the ranks of the Resistance grew daily.

  Stenger walked into the tailor shop, looking as much like a policeman as possible. Willi at his side, giving Leblanc his old soldier’s thousand yard stare.

  “How can I help you, gentlemen?” Leblanc asked, clearly afraid of the two.

  “We are from the investigation unit of the army police force.”

  “Not Gestapo?” Leblanc said clearly relieved.

  “No, my friend. We are working men like you, following up a lead on
a fairly routine black market matter.”

  “I do no business with those people. My customers order their material through me from Paris and other regional suppliers. I myself keep little in the way of stock on hand.”

  “Then you will have receipts for those purchases.”

  “Yes of course, officer. I keep them in the back. You are welcome to see them. I have nothing to hide.”

  “Yes, I will do so then,” Stenger said, sounding officious. “Captain, watch the front of the store so that we may review the records without interruption.” While Stenger addressed Willi he glanced meaningfully at the scheduling calendar on the counter next to him. He put his hand lightly on Leblanc and steered him towards the back to avoid having him collect the calendar.

  Willi carefully spun the open calendar around and determined the date that Von Schmelling was scheduled to return. He quickly returned the calendar to its original position.

  Stenger looked through the receipts that Leblanc had carefully catalogued pausing here and there for effect.

  “I compliment you on your thoroughness, sir. Everything is in order.”

  Leblanc was visibly relieved. He followed Stenger back towards the front of the shop.

  “Captain, everything in order?”

  “Yes, sir,” Willi said, nodding his head slightly.

  “Thank you, monsieur. We will leave you to your craft. Your work is quite beautiful,” Stenger said.

  “Thank you, Major,” Leblanc said, beaming.

  “Perhaps I will visit you from Germany when the war is over and have a suit made.”

  “I hope that will be soon, sir.”

  “As do I, my friend,” Stenger said as he and Willi turned and walked through the shop door.

  Once outside Stenger and Willi walked back over to the cafe for an early lunch.

  “Did you get it, Willi?”

  “Two weeks on the dot, Horsty. Now how do we get that information to our friend the Angel of Death? Such a lovely name. Do you think Von Schmelling will like meeting her?

  “Von Schmelling ought to be able to take care of his jackbooted self. But we will be there to arrest her if she does take the bait.