War Girl Ursula

by Marion Kummerow

  “Ursula…”

  She pushed against his chest and glared at him, “I haven’t come so far to leave you here to your fate. I will stay with you until I’ve handed you over. And I won’t discuss this any further, understood?”

  “Your glare is deadlier than a stab with a bayonet, Frau Hermann,” he chuckled.

  “Ugghh…you…you…” She couldn’t think of an appropriate word to use, and the puppy look in his eyes didn’t help to keep her focus on being angry with him. “The ship sails tomorrow in the afternoon, but we need to be in Sassnitz in the morning to meet the contact person with your new papers. You’ll be a Swedish merchant in the ore business.”

  “That’s quite a step up from being deaf and dumb.” He grinned. “Although I was beginning to enjoy having you at my beck and call.”

  Ursula swatted his arm. “This is not the time for jokes, Captain Westlake.”

  “Oh? Then when’s the time for jokes? When I’m buried six feet deep?”

  A shiver racked her body. Danger followed them with each step they took, and the possibility of dying before he reached the safe ship wasn’t very far away.

  “You worry too much, my dear.” Tom wrapped his arms around Ursula, pulling her close into his chest. He rested his head on hers, the blonde waves soft against his face. “There will be another way, I promise.”

  Chapter 23

  Once Tom had comforted Ursula and convinced her that there was still a hint of hope, they began discussing alternative methods of reaching the island. The only way by foot was along the bridge, which was far too risky now.

  “We will need to cross the water somehow...” Tom leaned back on his elbows and looked across the Strelasund, the sound between the mainland and Rügen. The evening sun was hanging low on the horizon, casting a golden glow across the water. The island of Rügen rose from the sea, so near and yet so far. He sighed deeply.

  Ursula got the idea that he was yearning for a much bigger island as he looked westward into the sun.

  “It’s too far to swim, we’d drown. Besides, if we arrived on the other side sopping wet, it would raise suspicion.” Ursula murmured. She knew how to swim of course, but she’d never done it for more than a hundred yards at one of the popular bathing beaches in Berlin.

  “Agreed, we need to blend in with the evacuees. We need a boat.” He leapt to his feet and pulled her with him. “Come on, let’s see if someone will give us a ride.”

  They walked along the water’s edge, looking for a boat. The sun soon disappeared behind the horizon, and within moments, the warm September evening gave way to the chilly night. A few minutes later they came upon a small fishing harbor, where countless boats were tied to a rickety wooden walkway over the water’s surface.

  Tom assumed his role as a Swedish merchant needing to find a way across the Strelasund, and walked up to countless fishermen, asking if he could rent their boats for the night. But all of them said no – a concerned and suspicious look on each one’s weathered faces. Finally, just as Ursula was giving up hope, the owner of an old and shabby rowing boat agreed to lease it to them. He greedily took the money they offered and warned them not to use the outboard motor, as that would alert the border post.

  The fisherman didn’t ask any questions, and Ursula got the impression that he was as keen to keep away from the authorities as they were.

  “Wartet auf die Nacht und immer schön links halten, sonst werdet Ihr ans Festland getrieben,” the fisherman mumbled.

  Tom cast her a questioning look, but Ursula shook her head. Only when the fisherman had disappeared did she repeat his words. “He told us to wait for nightfall and row toward the left, or we’ll drift back to the mainland.”

  “Good to know.” Tom grinned. “I didn’t understand a single word, what language was he speaking?”

  “Some mumbled dialect. I, too, had difficulties understanding.”

  They sat on the pier, a bollard shielding them from unwelcome eyes and ate their provisions as they waited for the darkness to settle.

  “Do you think we will make it?” Ursula whispered.

  “I do. I think things are just beginning, you know?”

  “I really hope they are. I hope everything will change. You will return home, and the war will end and then...” She bit her lip, not wanting to give away her thoughts.

  “Then what?” Tom asked, his emerald green eyes holding her captive.

  “I don’t know…maybe then we could see each other again,” she admitted, feeling heat rise to her cheeks.

  “I would like that a great deal.” He took her hand and squeezed it for a moment. “Come along, it won’t get any darker than this and we have a long way to row.”

  The boat creaked and swayed as he helped her climb in. It was pitch black by now, the only light the reflections of the stars on the crevices in the ocean’s surface. The Strelasund was protected from wind and waves by the island, which made their traveling relatively easy. But the farther they veered away from land, the more the temperature dropped, and Ursula wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders.

  She sat looking forward and gave Tom directions to steer toward the dark silhouette of the languet the fisherman had indicated as the most inconspicuous landing area. By the time they’d reached the halfway mark, she was being whipped by salty spray and crisp winds. Their only conversation was hushed whispers of “left” and “right” that nonetheless echoed across the water, sounding like yells in her ears.

  “Stop,” she whispered as a grumbling sound reached her ears. Tom froze in place, the oars sliding gracefully through the water with nothing more than a gurgle. In the distance, they heard pounding, shouting, then it was silent again.

  They waited motionless for another minute until Tom took up the rowing again. Ursula shivered in the chilly night air and prayed she would leave this boat alive. Drowning would be an even worse death than asphyxiation. Involuntarily, she grabbed the rail tighter.

  After what seemed like hours, they reached the shore. Not a soul was to be seen and judging by the disarray of flotsam on the beach, this part of the island wasn’t visited frequently. The fisherman had given them excellent advice. They hadn’t asked how he would recover the boat, but Ursula was sure he had his means.

  Tom dug the oars into the sand to push them forward silently, not daring to make a sound even through the gentle splashes of water. Once close enough to the dry sand, Tom and Ursula leapt out of the boat. Then they hid the boat near a rock and climbed the dune in the direction of northeast. She marveled at Tom’s uncanny ability to discover the cardinal direction simply by looking at the sky.

  Soon, they reached a street. Several minutes later, a sign indicated they were on their way to Sassnitz. Luckily, a truck with evacuees stopped and the driver told them to hop on. It was way past midnight when they finally arrived at a house where their contact person handed them Tom’s Swedish papers and a ticket for the ship from Sassnitz to Trelleborg.

  The widow, who had rented out rooms in her beachfront property before the war, now catered to the few merchants coming from Sweden or Denmark. She’d known Pfarrer Bernau from thirty years back before she had married into Rügen. Now she helped him once in a while hosting guests that otherwise wouldn’t be rented a room.

  She showed them the room and Ursula glared in shock at the big matrimonial bed. She wasn’t expected to share her bed with a man, or was she? As strange as it sounded, that thought, which frightened her almost more than having to brave another SS officer, also sent an unusual heat into her body.

  “I’ll get ready for bed,” she whispered and escaped into the bathroom, carefully locking the door behind her. She took her sweet time changing into the cotton nightgown that reached to her ankles, combing her hair until it shone, brushing her teeth, and everything else she could think of, hoping he’d fall asleep meanwhile.

  “Oh, I say. You look peachy,” he complimented her and stood. He took her hand and raised it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on the b
ack of it. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”

  Ursula cast her glance away. It was strange. They had known each other for such a short time, yet she felt as though Tom was a part of her.

  Tom took her chin into one hand and softly turned her head, so she had to look into his green eyes. Then he asked with a soft voice, “Will you be all right, getting back to Berlin on your own?”

  “Of course I’ll be fine,” Ursula answered. But a sudden weight pressed on her chest and made breathing difficult. How could she ever be fine with the certainty that she’d never see him again?

  “Good.” The silence lingered again, intensified by their inability to look away from one another.

  “I’m going to miss you, Tom,” she whispered.

  “This doesn’t have to be the end forever, Ursula. If you don’t want it to be,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving hers. She’d never gazed into such deep pools. His eyes betrayed his true feelings for her, but she also saw her own confusion and worry mirrored in them. He was still the enemy.

  “Do you want it to be?” Her words were barely audible. She was afraid of the answer. Afraid he would say yes. But equally afraid he’d say no. There was no conclusion to their dilemma, and there would never be a happy ending.

  “Not for a second.” Tom’s eyes shone with honesty as he ran a hand through his cropped dark hair. “I have never met anyone as brave or caring as you, Ursula. I owe you my life, but that’s not the only thing. You have captured my heart and my soul. My entire being belongs to you and will continue to do so forever. I don’t care whether our countries are at war, and we’re supposed to be enemies. I love you.”

  Ursula’s jaw dropped open, and she blinked. At a loss for words, she stood motionless when his hand reached out to stroke her hair. She didn’t move when his fingers caressed her cheek. And she didn’t resist when he pressed a soft kiss on her lips. But when he swooped her up into his arms and carried her over to the bed, she threw her arms around his neck, her body trembling in anticipation of what was to come.

  Chapter 24

  The next morning was crisp, and a gentle mist hung in the air softening the pale blue light. Ursula and Tom awoke tangled in the white bedsheets, holding onto each other like castaways in the ocean. They got up and dressed in silence. Now that the end of their time together approached, no words were the right ones.

  They walked the three miles to the harbor of Sassnitz. From far away, they discerned the Swedish flag fluttering in the wind high up on one of the ships.

  Ursula’s nerves were tied into knots. They were so near to success, yet so much could still go wrong. Tom walked by her side with the confident stride of a wealthy merchant untouched by the war raging across Europe.

  A small smile tugged at her lips at how well he’d lived up to the different roles he’d been forced to play. But maybe when you were on the brink of execution, everything that promised hope was an easy task.

  The island of Rügen was especially beautiful that morning. The grass glistened with dew, and a deep blue strip of the ocean was painted along the horizon. Several times, they stopped to catch a glimpse of the majestic white chalk cliffs.

  “They resemble the White Cliffs of Dover,” Tom said, and his eyes took on a yearning glow.

  “You’re homesick, aren’t you?” she asked him, interlinking her fingers with his.

  “I am, but…” He didn’t finish his sentence and looked away. There wasn’t much to say. Some things simply couldn’t be changed.

  As they approached the port, she asked, “Are you sure the border post won’t distinguish your English accent from a Swedish one?”

  “As long as they don’t speak Swedish, I’ll be fine,” he chuckled.

  Ursula stopped and cast him a fearful look, remembering their fake Finland nurse. “Oh goodness, I hadn’t thought about this possibility. What if…” A kiss sealed her lips and prevented her from finishing her sentence.

  “You worry too much, my darling. Now that I can see the ship and taste freedom, I won’t let those bloody Krauts catch me again…” One look at her face silenced him, and his ears turned crimson red. “I’m sorry. I…I didn’t mean you, of course.”

  “I know.” Ursula put a hand on his arm. “This is one more reason for you to leave.”

  Once at the port, they embraced one another tightly, unwilling to let go. Tears streamed down Ursula’s face, and she could see them sparkle in his eyes too. She wiped the back of her hand across her face and gave a big sniff.

  “I know you have to go, I just wish you didn’t.”

  He took her hands between his and kissed her tears away before he said, “I feel the same way. Come with me, Ursula. Be my wife, not as a ruse, but for real.”

  Her heart thumped hard, causing blood to roar in her ears. Jubilation and devastation warred in her mind.

  “Tom, you know I can’t. My family is here. Anna, Lotte, Mutter. They need me as much as I need them.” She put her arms around his neck and looked into his eyes. “I have to stay, not only for them but for others who need my help. You have seen how terrible things are. If I turn my back now, without doing my share, that makes me a coward, worse than the Nazis themselves.”

  Tom shook his head. “You’re not a coward, Ursula. You are by far the bravest, most determined, gentle, caring, upright, honest, and loyal person I’ve ever met.”

  Unwilling to give in to the temptation to just follow him and leave all her sorrows behind, she added, “I would be as unwelcome in your country as you are in mine. What would your superiors say if you brought home a German girl, Captain Westlake?”

  He hesitated and she could feel how torn he was between serving his country and wanting to be with her. “We could both stay in Sweden, we’d be safe there. Wait out the war...”

  “Wouldn’t that make you a coward?” Ursula looked up at Tom and gave him a gentle kiss.

  He gave a deep sigh.

  “I have to stay, and you need to go home,” she said.

  “I’ll wait for you.” The words burst from him. “I’ll come and get you once we’ve won the war.”

  A tear spilled from her eye, then a second was followed by thousands more. “I’ll wait for you, Tom. I love you.”

  They kissed one last time and then Tom turned to pass the border post. She waved after him as he passed without a problem and continued toward the ship with the Swedish flag.

  When she could no longer see him, Ursula wandered aimlessly along the coastline looking at the water until she flopped down onto a patch of sand and cried until all the tears were gone. Then she got up and embarked on the long journey back home to her mother and Anna.

  She sat on the train, enduring the long monotonous ride home. The world flashed past her through the windows, a blur of greens and browns. For the first time in weeks, Ursula had no sense of anxiety. During the multiple identification checks, she had not once stiffened in fear. Everything had worked out – Tom was safe, and so were she and her family.

  It would be so easy to return to normalcy, to never step another toe out of line and pretend she did not know all the terrible things she did. But the war was no closer to ending, really, than when it had started. Ursula now understood her purpose and role within it: to help those who needed it in any way she could, regardless of the personal consequences.

  She remembered the moment she’d first seen Tom hiding in the crack in the prison wall and hadn’t called the alarm on him, as she should have done. In hindsight, that was the moment her life changed irrevocably. The turning point when she’d stopped being an obedient citizen who never asked questions, and had become a woman who aligned her actions with her moral compass, regardless of the consequences for her own life.

  Despite public wisdom, there truly was no difference between Germans, English, even Jews. Everyone was hoping to survive this horrible war, and some did awful things that could only be justified in the light of the greater good. She had no illusions whatsoever that Tom would soon be back
in the skies over her city, dropping his deadly cargo, perhaps even killing someone she knew. But who was she to judge him? What he did was done to serve his country, to protect the ones he loved. Just not her. She was the enemy.

  They might love each other, but that didn’t change one thing in the greater scheme of things.

  ***

  Ursula got off the train in Berlin, determined to tell Pfarrer Bernau that she wanted to continue to be a part of his network, helping wherever she was needed. A smile appeared on her lips as she walked the last block to her home. Determination and a newfound purpose in life energized her steps.

  She arrived at the apartment and threw herself through the door, “Mutter, Anna, I’m home!”

  Nobody answered. That was strange. Since the door hadn’t been locked, they must be at home. Ursula entered the kitchen and found her mother and sister sitting in an embrace, crying.

  “What has happened?” she asked, shock spreading across her face.

  Mutter looked up, tears streaming down her face. “Lydia called,” her mother said, her words blurred by sobs. “Lotte…” She couldn’t go on as sobs wracked her.

  No.

  Lotte. Her baby sister. Pieces of her heart shattered and broke away as her mind considered each and every possibility.

  “What? What’s wrong?” Ursula pleaded, unable to stand the not knowing another second.

  Finally, Anna looked up at her. “Lotte has disappeared.”

  ***

  Thank you so much for taking the time to read WAR GIRL URSULA.

  If you enjoyed the book would you do me a huge favor and leave me a review? I’d really, really appreciated it:

  https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0714B3X33

  The next book in the series is WAR GIRL LOTTE. Ursula’s little sister thinks she knows it all – until her entire world is turned upside down by one well-meaning but rash decision.