War Girl Ursula

by Marion Kummerow

  Her mother-in-law’s face softened. “Of course, Ursula. I haven’t been able to give anything away. I know I should, because others need it so much, but I need the reminder of my son.” She smiled kindly, and Ursula’s heart sank a few inches. “Why don’t you sit for a second, and I’ll get some of his clothes for you.”

  Ursula breathed a sigh of relief as her mother-in-law rushed up the stairs. Guilt weighed heavily on her shoulders. Andreas had only been gone for three months, and here she was giving his clothes to another man. Her disturbing feelings for Tom didn’t help to lessen the shame. She buried her head in her hands, her blonde waves falling like a veil over her face.

  She wasn’t only betraying Andreas with her infatuation for the Englishman, she’d lied, disrespected, and endangered everyone who was dear to her, including her Fatherland.

  Chapter 14

  “You look like a true German,” Ursula said when Tom stepped out of his room dressed in Andreas’ clothes.

  “I could fool anyone, right?” He grinned and rose to his full, impressive height of six-one.

  “As long as you don’t open your mouth,” Ursula giggled nervously.

  Tom put on a mock offended face. “You want to imply my German is bad? That’s not nice.”

  “Well, your German is surprisingly good, but your accent…” She imitated the peculiar way he pronounced the German words and giggled again. Her nerves were strung tight. Soon, the most dangerous part yet would begin, actually walking outside on the streets with him.

  She handed him the black soutane, praying nobody would question the disguise. Then they waited together until the blaring radio from the apartment next door faded. Ursula could barely tolerate the rising tension as she listened intently for a sound.

  “Frau Weber has gone to bed,” she finally said. “Let’s go.”

  Tom looked at her and must have noticed her trembling, because he took her hands into his. “Everything will be fine.”

  She nodded in silence and motioned for him to follow her. They snuck out of the apartment and scurried down the stairs like ephemeral ghosts. It was way past ten p.m., and the street lay empty in the dark, lit only by the dim moonlight.

  Ursula knew the path to the allotments by heart, had walked the two miles thousands of times in her childhood, but never at night. After the Great War, Ursula’s parents had applied for one of the allotments that sprang up throughout the city. Her mother had carefully tended the earth to grow some produce, but between household chores and work, Ursula and Anna had neglected the place and only worked the minimum to keep the fruit trees and bushes alive.

  Tom fell in step beside her, following her lead without uttering a single word. They had almost reached the turnoff to the footpath into the allotments when her blood froze at the sound of a voice.

  “Guten Abend, junge Frau.”

  Ursula spun around to look into the faces of two young officers clad in the black SS uniform. Her palms instantly became sweaty.

  “Papers please,” one of the SS men said. Both were sporting mustaches and couldn’t be much older than twenty-five. Their guns poked out of their waistbands as if itching to be used. Ursula’s heart was drumming so hard, she expected to hear it echo off the buildings surrounding them.

  “Of course, one moment please,” she said, making an effort to keep her voice stable. The officers stood waiting, one smoking a cigarette as Ursula reached into her handbag for her identification papers. Every time the man raised the tip of the cigarette to his lips, it made a gentle sucking noise, followed by a deep and slow exhalation. The distinct smell of nicotine wafted into her nostrils, subduing the smell of fear – a fear most everyone sensed when being confronted by the SS.

  Ursula handed him her papers, waiting with bated breath. Out of the corner of her eyes, she noticed Tom tense. By now, she knew him well enough to know that beneath the priest’s soutane, every single muscle had tightened, and he was alert like a panther on the prowl.

  “It’s rather late for such a beautiful woman to be out and about,” the first one said with a charming grin.

  “Yes, sir,” she answered and caught a glimpse of Tom’s scowling face.

  “Can we escort you somewhere?” the young man asked, obviously attempting to flirt with her.

  “Thank you, sir, I will be fine…” She followed the glance of the second officer over to Tom wearing the priest’s habit. “My mother-in-law is in dire health, and I called for the priest to visit her.”

  It may not have been the wisest thing to say, but she hadn’t been able to come up with a better explanation. Tom furrowed his brow in sorrow and raised his hand to the cross around his neck, murmuring some unintelligible words that sounded like a Latin prayer.

  “Well, under these circumstances, Frau…” the SS man looked at her papers again, “…Hermann, we won’t bother you further.” He returned her papers and stepped back. “God bless you, Father.”

  As the SS officers walked away, Ursula staggered with a sudden wave of dizziness and Tom caught her arm.

  “I almost died of fear,” she admitted. “If they’d asked for your papers, it would have been over.”

  “Not without a fight,” he said and held her elbow tighter. “But you’re right, we were lucky. Come on, it’s not safe here. We should get off the street or risk running into another patrol.”

  A few hundred yards down, they turned onto a gravel path to the allotment garden complex. The moon slipped behind a cloud, and the increased darkness made orientation difficult.

  “Watch your step,” she whispered, “there’s lots of weeds and roots covering the path.”

  The allotment area was like a huge patchwork quilt of deep browns and vibrant greens, made up of vegetable patches with small huts and sheds. She stopped in front of a wooden gate, taller than the height of a full-grown man, flanked by equally high Thuja hedges.

  “This is your new home,” she whispered with a grand gesture while she unlocked the gate and handed him the spare key.

  “Smashing, and as impenetrable as Sleeping Beauty’s hedge.” Tom cast her a teasing grin.

  As Ursula closed the gate again, a rusty squeak cut through the night, and she froze, listening to the darkness. Only when no sound was heard except for a barking dog in the distance did she dare breathe again. She motioned for Tom to follow her and crossed the small garden. In ten steps, they passed the water well and came to stand in front of the wooden shed, just as the moon peeked out from behind the dark cloud. The wood was worn, and moss grew up the sides, making it seem a part of the nature surrounding it.

  Tom quietly stepped on the porch while she unlocked the door. His nearness made her ill at ease, and she dropped the key, but in one swift move, he caught it before it could drop to the ground with a clang. Then he unlocked the padlock and opened the door for Ursula to step inside. Now she really felt like Dornröschen in her castle.

  “I’m afraid it’s not much,” Ursula apologized after lighting a kerosene lamp and carefully closing the door behind them. Despite the orders to evacuate the allotments after dark, one could never be sure there wasn’t a soul to listen – and possibly report.

  “It’s about the same size as my cell, but at least I don’t have to share it with two other men and stare out the window at the execution chamber anymore.” He gave a sharp laugh, but Ursula didn’t find it so funny, the skin around her blue eyes creasing as she frowned. She wasn’t particularly religious, nor superstitious, but she did not think it sensible to blatantly tempt fate by mocking it.

  “You can get water from the well and steal food from the soil at night. During the day, though, there’ll be a constant rotation of people passing by. They won’t be able to look inside, but nevertheless, you should stay inside the shed and make no noise.” She gave him a stern glance and checked that the blinds were tightly shut.

  The shed was filled with watering cans and various gardening supplies, including a rickety table and two sun loungers that had seen better times. She ru
mmaged through the pile of neatly folded cloths in one corner and found the cushions for the sun loungers as well as a set of old but clean towels and several tablecloths.

  “That will have to do for your bed.” She knelt down to prepare his makeshift bed, but he grabbed her around her waist and gently forced her to stand up again.

  “I can do that myself. You have done enough already.” His green eyes turned into deep pools as he continued, “I owe you my life, Ursula Hermann, and know this, there’s not a single thing I wouldn’t do for you should ever the need arise.”

  His hands remained on her hips, burning a path through her clothes onto her skin and right into her heart. For a moment, she threw caution to the wind and pressed her body into Tom. After several days of nourishing food and normal rations, he’d gained weight, and even through his extensive layers of clothes, she noticed how his hard muscles now filled his big frame.

  The urge to touch his rugged face became overwhelming, and she realized that her breath had quickened and her heart raced much too fast. She pushed her hands against his chest, frantic to get away.

  “I have to go now. I’ll come back tomorrow night with some food. Remember, don’t leave the shed during the day.”

  Then she sprinted to the gate as if the devil incarnate were behind her. Only when she’d locked the gate from the outside did she close her eyes and breathe a heavy sigh.

  Chapter 15

  When Ursula went to work the next day, her mind lingered in the allotment with Tom. The way her body reacted to his nearness confused and worried her. She had loved Andreas, but he’d never caused those kinds of butterflies in her stomach.

  Ursula put her troubling emotions aside and went through her routine, albeit without her usual cheerful smile. More than once, she overheard one of the prisoners asking what had happened to the Blonde Angel, although none of them dared to ask her directly. Not even her nickname drew a smile from her lips. Too strong was the anxiety about Tom’s well-being, and the utter confusion about her feelings towards him.

  It wasn’t until the daily leisure hour that one of the older prisoners, not in age but in seniority, walked up to her when she stood alone and asked, “What’s wrong, Frau Hermann? Shouldn’t you be happy that the awful mass executions have finally ceased?”

  Ursula nodded absentmindedly. “I should. And I am. I’m just...preoccupied.”

  The woman tilted her head and scrunched her nose. “Is this about your husband?”

  In a prison like Plötzensee, news traveled fast, and most everyone knew about Andreas’ death because she’d received one day of leave to visit the registry and run some other errands.

  “Umm. Yes. I’m missing him terribly,” she answered, happy about the excuse she could hang onto. It wasn’t even a complete lie. She still missed Andreas, despite the current excitement in her life and the confusing feelings for the Englishman.

  “I can sympathize,” the woman said, and for a moment, Ursula though she’d give her an embrace. But that was even more taboo than falling for the enemy.

  “Thank you.” Ursula dabbed at her eyes and quickly turned away, pretending to be needed somewhere else. Although this woman wouldn’t utter a word to the authorities if she suspected Ursula was hiding an escaped prisoner, Ursula would have to maintain a better composure. If the prisoners noticed her anxious state of mind, her superiors might do the same. And Frau Schneider would ask harder questions.

  Thankfully, the bell signaling the end of the leisure hour rang, and she was too busy to wallow in her thoughts.

  The hours ticked by and Ursula longed to return home, though she knew the bubble of worry would not disappear there. But at least she wouldn’t have to guard her agitation from others.

  On her way to the staff room, she bumped into Pfarrer Bernau, jumping at the sight of him.

  “Good afternoon, Frau Hermann, is everything all right?” he said in his sonorous voice.

  She looked at him, frantic before her eyes darted up and down the hallway to make sure they wouldn’t be heard. “I’m sorry, Father, but I can’t do it. I just can’t. I’m a bundle of nerves.”

  “Let’s go to my room, shall we?” He turned around and then opened the door for her.

  As soon as the priest had closed the door behind them, she blurted out, “I can’t cope with the stress anymore. The entire day I was jumpy, afraid to give anything away. One of the prisoners even asked me what was wrong, and if Frau Schneider sees my agitation, she’ll ask questions.”

  “Calm down, my child.” Pfarrer Bernau put a calming hand over hers. “Nothing has happened.”

  “I’m just…I’m afraid someone will find out…things will go wrong. I have that terrible feeling.” Ursula was on the verge of tears. She’d fought so hard to keep herself collected, her willpower was drained.

  “Frau Hermann, you cannot give up now. This man needs you.”

  “But what if we are caught? What if I am killed? Or worse…” The dark visions loomed between them as they both had seen more evidence than any person should as to what happened with traitors. “I want to help, but I’m just some weak woman, not the material heroes are made of. Not like some of the brave women in here. It’s only going to get harder and…” She was struggling to catch a breath, the intensity of her anxiety spilling out of her soaking up all her energy. “…I have reached my limit. I can’t take it anymore.”

  “Please, just sit and breathe for a minute. It will all get easier.”

  Ursula didn’t believe him for one second, but she forced herself to take several deep breaths.

  “You must be scared. I know it, for I am scared too. But wouldn’t it all be worth it, knowing you helped someone else?”

  “I suppose. I just want it to be over. Living in constant fear isn’t for me.”

  “It’s only a few more days…” Someone knocked on the door, and Pfarrer Bernau called out, “One moment, please.” Then he returned his dark eyes to Ursula and added, “I’m sorry, work calls. Can you come to the church this evening and we will chat some more? I might be able to give you a better indication of a timeframe by then.”

  “Thank you, Father, I’ll drop by after taking care of dinner.”

  Ursula dragged her feet to the staff room and changed into civilian clothes. All she wanted was to curl up in her bed and spill her tears until she felt up to preparing food for Tom and making the trip to the allotments.

  She got off the tram one station early and walked the rest of the way home. The September sun cast a golden glow on the leaves as it hung low on the horizon. The warmth of the day mixed with the chill the night would bring. She hoped Tom wouldn’t be too cold in the shed at night. The exercise and the fresh air had calmed her down to the point that she hummed a melody in her head, confident over what the future would hold.

  However, when she entered the apartment, her newfound confidence shattered to a million pieces as she found Anna standing in the living room, flanked by two men. All three of them turned around, and her heart sank into her stomach as she recognized the SS uniforms. Both men were in their early twenties, had broad shoulders, and wore their blond hair combed back with brilliantine. They looked dashing in their uniforms, and under different circumstances, she might have found their appearance pleasing.

  “Ursula, these gentlemen are Gestapo. Frau Weber called them to report she heard noises coming from our apartment and thought someone was hiding in here,” Anna explained, her voice calm.

  Ursula froze in place, unable to move or breathe.

  “Fräulein, we need to ask a few questions,” the young, handsome officer said.

  “Frau. It’s Frau Hermann,” Ursula corrected him out of habit.

  “Frau Hermann,” he answered with a frown. “Where is your husband?”

  “Dead. He fell on the Eastern Front earlier this year.” Her legs gave out, and if the second officer hadn’t caught her, she would have fallen to the floor. He placed her onto the couch, his blue eyes looking at her with a mixture of
suspicion and concern.

  Then they started the inquisition. Ursula presented her papers and then answered endless questions about her whereabouts – if she’d noticed anything unusual, and so on. Much to her surprise, Frau Weber came out of the kitchen, holding up a dirty plate.

  “He must have been eating from this plate,” the neighbor said with the certainty of a woman who’d read too many mysteries.

  “That’s actually my lunch, but I hadn’t had time to do the dishes before you arrived, gentlemen,” Anna said with a well-calculated look.

  “Someone was here. I heard the voice of a man. And footsteps,” Frau Weber insisted.

  Ursula didn’t know what to say, but her sister was thankfully more quick-witted.

  “Do you think someone broke in?” she asked the officer who’d smiled at her earlier.

  “It might be a possibility,” he hedged, trying to look stern.

  “Oh, goodness. Imagine if my sister or I had been at home, who knows what this criminal might have done to us?” Anna’s voice quivered, and expressions of shock and horror passed across her face.

  Ursula could barely believe her eyes as she witnessed the spectacle.

  A single tear ran down her sister’s face, and Anna pressed a hand to her chest as she said in a high-pitched voice, “I’m so scared. The men of the family are fighting for our Führer at the front, and our mother is in the country. It’s just the two of us.” Then she actually moved a step aside as if hiding from an unseen evil. “Do you think he’s still here? What if he comes back? Who will protect my sister and me?”

  Good grace, he has no idea he’s being played. Anna was putting up an excellent show, her sobs as realistic as they could come, perhaps aided by the genuine severity of the sisters’ current situation.

  “We’ll search the apartment to make sure nobody is hiding,” the Gestapo officer smiled at Anna, and his eyes lingered a bit too long on her décolleté. Then he started opening every drawer and moving every piece of furniture around in his search for the hidden man. Anna followed him like a puppy, gasping little sighs of admiration for his strength and courage.