The Soldier's Girl: A gripping, heartbreaking World War 2 historical novel

by Sharon Maas

  ‘But – if Strasbourg has fallen surely it means that all of Alsace is now French? That the Wehrmacht will retreat from Colmar as well?’

  ‘Not a bit of it! Who told you such nonsense! We are going to fight on – this time, really to the death. Hitler will not surrender Colmar. He has ordered a fight to the death, which means my death as well. We will not flee again. But I want you well taken care of, as my widow. And, Marlene, before I die, I want to hold you, feel you, love you. Surely you can do this one thing for me? Marry me now?’

  She heard the words, but as if from far away. Louder, to her, was the insistent thudding of her heart, the cry of her own inner resistance: no, no, I cannot!

  And then, another cry: For France, For Alsace!

  ‘You have nothing to say? You cannot say yes? That is all I want. So with that in mind, I propose that tomorrow we go to the town hall and apply to marry as soon as it is feasible. What do you say to that?’

  Stunned into speechlessness, Sibyl groped for an adequate excuse.

  ‘Wolf, I understand,’ she said, struggling to keep her speech steady. ‘I do; and it is a good idea for all your reasons. But – but what I would be afraid of…’

  He took her hand. ‘What would you be afraid of, my darling? There is nothing to fear.’

  ‘What if – what if you fell, if you really died – I really hope not, but what if – you died in battle and then I found I was going to have a baby?’

  Instead of sharing her distress at such a thought, his eyes actually lit up.

  ‘But that would be the grandest thing, my dear! I would love nothing more than to leave a son – or even a daughter – when I die. This possibility had not even occurred to me –of course, if I survive, that is my dream, but to leave a child behind when I die – Marlene, there is nothing to fear. There is enough money. You would have a home. My parents would help, they would take you in, they would love you. I already told them all about you and my intention of marrying you. This engagement ring’ – he raised her hand to his lips – ‘this ring is an heirloom; it was my grandmother’s. You would be part of my family. Even if Germany loses the war, you would be cared for. You would have a home in a beautiful part of Germany. You would raise my child in comfortable circumstances. You would…’

  She had to stop him; he was getting carried away by a dream of posthumous glory.

  ‘No, Wolf, no. I do not want to raise a child without a father. I refuse to even contemplate it.’

  His smile faded, his shoulders slumped.

  ‘Well, then, maybe not. Maybe no child for now, and maybe, just maybe, there is a small chance I might survive. But we still must marry. There are ways and means of preventing conception. We will find out what can be done. But we must definitely marry soon. Please say yes, Marlene. Please do it: for me, but also for you. I know you don’t love me fully yet but surely what I have said, is incentive enough?’

  ‘I will think about it. Give me a few days.’

  ‘A few days is too long, my darling – it is already December! We must act quickly!’

  ‘Then give me two days. I must discuss it with Oncle Yves. I must be sure. Give me two days.’

  He nodded. ‘Very well. I will return the day after tomorrow. And hopefully, there will be good news.’

  Chapter 41

  Her message to Acrobat the next day was succinct. And, she thought, most probably redundant since she knew the answer.

  ‘Percy proposes wedding before Christmas. Advice required.’

  Indeed, redundant. The reply was even more succinct:

  ‘Congratulations.’

  ‘What a girl won’t do for her country,’ said Sibyl.

  ‘It’s not even technically your country,’ said Elena. ‘You’re actually English. Which makes it all the more heroic.’

  ‘I might have a British passport, but France is the country of my heart. It’s always been that way.’

  ‘Well, I know I couldn’t marry a German! Share his bed! Oh, even the thought makes me puke.’

  Margaux shook her head in disbelief.

  ‘You English are such prudes! What’s so heroic about it? You get a handsome officer who adores you, and when he dies – hopefully soon, seeing as he’s the enemy – you get to inherit a small fortune.’

  ‘No, I don’t. You forget that the wedding is a sham. Marlene Schuster does not exist. She’s a myth; or rather, she’s actually Jeanne Dauguet, who is actually dead. It’s all make-believe.’

  ‘What a pity! Think of that villa in Munich. You could move there after the war!’

  ‘Who said I want to live in Munich! And I wish you’d all stop being so flippant about it. This is serious… how can I possibly?’

  ‘Oh, Sibyl, don’t be melodramatic. It’s just a piece of paper. It’s your job. Marry him, play the part, be nice to him, and you could very well win us the war in a day or two. Think of all the pillow talk! If he’s been so generous with secrets before marriage, think of what you’ll get out of him after a few sweet kisses!’

  ‘Margaux, just shut up, all right? And take me home.’

  Chapter 42

  ‘We need a home, my darling. We need a place of our own, and I have thought of just the thing.’

  ‘Really? Where?’

  Sibyl’s consent to an early wedding had pitched von Haagen into a flurry of activity. It had cast away his gloom, straightened his back. Immediately he had sent for his birth certificate and other documents; the wedding date had been set for December 12th.

  It was all happening far too fast for Sibyl’s liking; an express train hurtling into a great blackness, a train she could not get off, try as she might; for it was necessary. She was just a cog in a greater wheel, a wheel in which personal feelings played no role whatsoever. And she was trying. Trying to play the part. Again and again she recalled her training, the psychological part of it. She was playing a part; the part of dedicated fiancée. She had to fling herself into the role, suppress the natural emotions of resistance and rebellion; pretend to love him, pretend to care, because that was what the role demanded. She was slowly getting better at it. If she could just forget, put aside for the moment, this man’s connection to the world’s most dangerous tyrant, the monster who would destroy the world, and see him simply as a man; a man who genuinely loved her. If she could just peel away the hostility towards what he represented and remember, bring to mind, that behind his outward manifestation of a German officer, her enemy, stood just that, a man. If she could forget his nationality, his status, his function, and see him for who he was. What if the same man had been English? Would it have been easier?

  No, because I love Jacques.

  But if there were no Jacques. And von Haagen were English. What then?

  No, because I love Jacques.

  But what if. What if he were just a man who loved you, without all these pesky attributes? Just a loving man with a need to open his heart to you, confide in you, put all his trust in your hands. Would marrying him still be such a terrible thing?

  Yes, because it is Jacques that I love.

  But she was an agent, playing a part, and this was what she had to do.

  ‘It is just a few doors away from you: an empty house; it once belonged to a violin-maker, I believe.’

  ‘Yes, I know the house. It is boarded up.’

  ‘That does not matter. The boards are rather ugly, but they will be removed. It’s quite a pretty house. I shall arrange to be billeted there and then we can live together. This can happen very soon. I will inspect the house and make sure it is habitable. Or else, we can look for a place together, a villa perhaps, in another part of town. Unfortunately, I don’t have much time for house-hunting right now. We are all busy planning the next offensive.’

  ‘Really? So soon?’

  ‘Of course. We cannot waste time; Hitler is furious at losing Strasbourg. He’s absolutely incensed; no, apoplectic with rage. I can just imagine it; I’ve seen his tantrums. Not a pretty sight at all. I have to admit to a
certain amount of Schadenfreude!’ He grinned at her.

  ‘He won’t stand for it; he insists that we cannot at any cost lose Colmar as well; in fact, he wants us to regain Strasbourg so that even if Germany loses the war, which is a foregone conclusion, Alsace will remain German territory. He is so determined – well, I should not be telling you this, but you are my fiancée, after all…’

  He stopped, held her gaze, begging for confirmation. She smiled in reassurance, taking both his hands in hers.

  ‘Yes… of course. You can tell me anything. You know it.’

  ‘That’s such a help to me. I carry around all this stress and just having an outlet, a sounding board: it takes a burden off my shoulders. I cannot talk to the other men as they are carrying burdens of their own. We are all under such pressure. Talking helps so much – I am but human, beneath it all. The image of a dispassionate soldier, just following orders – well, it’s all just that, an image, isn’t it? Created to impress others, to convey the illusion of indestructible power. But you know, Marlene: we are still human. We have families, wives, children; every soldier is also human. Hitler’s rage shows that he too is human, not the all-powerful God he paints himself as. Hitler too has a woman, Eva Braun. You did not know that, did you? It is kept a secret from the public so that they believe he is above human passions. He is not.

  ‘And, you know, even Goebbels – you know of Goebbels? Minster of Propaganda? Of course you do. Everyone has heard of Joseph Goebbels – that tough, powerful henchman of Hitler? Evil, like Himmler, like Hitler himself. You think he is above everything? That he has no feelings? That he is made of stone?

  ‘Wrong! He too fell for a woman, a Czech film star. He was besotted with her, wanted to give up his family, even his career. Hitler ordered him to drop her but he could not. He resigned his post, a position at the very top of the Nazi hierarchy! So much he loved this woman. But Hitler did not accept his resignation. He forced Goebbels to give her up. Such is the power of love! It can defeat even the staunchest Nazi, because they too are human behind it all, they too have needs – a need to share their burdens, their pains. A man’s wife is his other half, the confidante of his heart. He can be truly himself with his wife. She alone can see beyond the illusion, see the real man, know his weaknesses and not judge him for them, because she loves him. Is that not so, my darling? That is how I regard marriage. That is how our marriage will be, even if it is but short. Although…’

  He paused, which gave her the opportunity of bringing him back to the topic; to whatever burden it was he wanted to share with her. She had to cut short what promised to be a rumination on the respective roles and psychology of husband and wife, soldier and confidante.

  ‘Of course, Wolf! You can tell me anything. That’s what I’m here for: to help you with your burdens. You can tell me whatever is in your heart.’

  ‘This is not so much a burden, though, as a military secret of momentous significance. Very few officers know of it; basically, just the generals and a few other senior officers. And it means, it could mean – that we have a slight hope of a recovery in Alsace. That we could, possibly, hold Alsace, win back Strasbourg and keep Alsace after the Allies have withdrawn. It’s been said that General Eisenhower is not at all interested in holding on to Alsace, that he could withdraw the American troops, and the French army could not hold on to it. The Americans are keen to cross the Rhine into Germany and let go of Alsace. This is what our spies have discovered. But that’s not the main thing that gives me hope.’

  She squeezed his hands, leaned into him, rested her head on his shoulder.

  ‘What is it, mein Schatz? Don’t keep me in suspense like this…’

  It was the first time she had used a pet name with him. It seemed necessary, considering the delicacy of the situation. Instinct told her he was holding back, talking, chattering even, to delay a revelation, resisting disclosure as a good officer should. Which meant, perhaps, that what he had to say was, indeed, significant. In his next breath she was rewarded. It burst from him.

  ‘Heinrich Himmler has been placed in charge of the operation!’

  ‘What? You mean…’

  ‘Yes! Himmler himself! Hitler himself has given him command of the Army Group Upper Rhine, therefore of all Alsace – and he reports directly to Hitler himself, unlike all other commanders. This shows just how vital Alsace is to Hitler, which will mean that the troops will find enormous motivation; this, my darling, is why I am so confident we can win back Strasbourg and keep Alsace; especially in the light of Eisenhower’s disinterest. Do you understand, my darling, how important this is? It could very well mean that we shall indeed remain the victors in Alsace after the Americans withdraw; which means: perhaps I will not die, and we will, after all, have a life together. Right now, Himmler is on his way to Colmar. We are having a crisis meeting on Monday morning: all the generals and senior officers, and Himmler. And I am thrilled beyond measure.’

  Sibyl forced her voice to remain steady.

  ‘I thought you detested Himmler? I thought he was the most vile, dangerous, brutal man in Hitler’s inner circle? I thought he…’

  ‘Don’t you see, my dear, the one has nothing to do with the other. Indeed. Himmler is responsible for the most atrocious crimes against the Jews, and there can be no forgiveness for the death camps. After the war is over I am sure he will be brought to trial for his crimes. But this is a military operation: a different matter altogether. It’s about us holding on to the Alsace, come what may, and only a man of Himmler’s stature can inject the Wehrmacht with fresh energy. The SS Stormtroopers – they will do exactly as he says; he is after all head of the SS. And as much as I despise the man, I have hope again.

  ‘I am at that stage, Marlene, in which I don’t care about anything but making the best out of the disaster of this terrible war. I loathe them all: Hitler, Himmler, the whole pack of them. They whipped us into this catastrophe which has cost so many lives. I don’t care that Germany will lose the war – Germany deserves to lose! All I care about now is my personal future, and I can only secure that by helping us to win the next battle, win back Alsace. And so, Himmler gives me hope, though I detest him. He gives me hope for Alsace – a province I have learnt to love – and hope that I may have a life with the woman that I love. And I want you to join me in that hope. Pray for me, Marlene: pray that I survive the next chapter of this war, and may live to realise my dream – our dream.’

  She struggled to swallow the lump of bile that suddenly rose in her throat; struggled to breathe, to remain calm, not to leap to her feet and race off to get an emergency message off to Acrobat.

  ‘So – now you think Alsace will remain German? That the Americans will back out of the defence?’

  ‘Exactly. I concede – we all do, Hitler included – that Germany has lost the war. But Alsace will remain German territory. It’s not worth it for Eisenhower to keep up the defence with the subsequent loss of American lives, and France cannot defend it without the Americans. So Alsace will remain part of Germany, a part of the state of Baden across the Rhine. This is wonderful news. It means that I can remain here. How would you like it, my dear, if we made Alsace our permanent home? I could sell the Munich house and we could purchase a villa near one of the villages – near Riquewihr, for instance. I would eventually retire from the military; I’d like to try my hand at managing a small vineyard. Maybe we can buy someone out, live here, raise our children here. How does that sound to you?’

  Hopefully he didn’t notice her hesitation. It was becoming increasingly difficult to create appropriate responses to his ever more outlandish suggestions.

  ‘Well, that sounds marvellous! You know I’d love to stay here. Alsace is my real home. I’d love to put down permanent roots.’

  ‘Well then – now you too can hope for a German victory in Alsace. Yes, Colmar will be involved in the war and it will be unpleasant for you, but you’ll be out of danger, as will the citizens. We all want to keep the town intact with as few ci
vilian casualties as possible. It will only be for a short while. Himmler may not have much military experience but his very presence here will motivate the soldiers and they’ll renew their pledge to fight for victory. We shall overcome. This one last piece of territory shall remain in German hands.’

  ‘You said, Himmler is actually coming to Alsace? To Colmar?’

  ‘He’s on his way right now. We’re going to have a celebratory dinner at the Villa Schönblick on Saturday night; he’ll be there. I would like you to attend. Many of the officers are bringing their girls; respectable girls, I mean, if they have one. Very few do – I’m one of the lucky ones. I have you.’ He squeezed her hand. She squeezed his back, ran her thumb over the back of his.

  ‘So I will get to meet Mr Himmler?’

  ‘You will! I admit, he’s a despicable person but he has a lot of influence and it’s an opportunity for us to get in his good books. I’m sure he’ll be charmed by you.’

  ‘That should be… interesting, I suppose. And a bit frightening.’

  ‘No need at all to be frightened, my dear. I’m sure you’ll charm him. It’s just a pleasant social evening before the planning starts in earnest on Monday.’

  ‘Is Himmler staying at the Villa Schönblick?’

  Was that a little too probing a question? Was it something an innocent Marlene Schuster would ask? Von Haagen seemed to think so.