War: A Love Story

by Jason argo

   

He worked tirelessly for the following two days, the library completely silent but for the incessant clatter of the typewriter. There was only one notable incident. On a rainy Friday afternoon his attention was drawn to a tapping at the casement window, and he peered round to see Günter standing outside owning a smile that was speculative and subtly ingratiating.

Disenchantment showed on Willy's face as he opened the window.

"What do you want?"

Günter hesitated for a moment, his mouth taking on a vaguely sardonic twist. "I can tell you're still annoyed with me for what happened the other day, and you've every right to be. I was pretty much a disappointment to you."

Willy scowled. "So?" he said scornfully.

"So, I'd like to make up with you. You know, make a new start."

"What about your reputation with real girls?"

The gardener shrugged. "Girls are pretty scarce in my life at the moment, and I'm feeling horny enough to want to try out a hot-arsed queen. It's a bit of a step back for me, but I know you'll be grateful. O'course we'd have to keep it a secret. I wouldn't want anyone else to know I go with faggots."

Momentarily stunned by surprise Willy stood back. The audacity of the brute, attempting to seduce him with such clumsy words after what had happened earlier, and to satisfy nothing but his own selfish needs.

He'd been told as a child that when in danger of losing his temper he should count to ten, so he counted in his head, then said flatly: "Fuck off." and closed the window.

As the weekend approached he began to have apprehensive feelings about sitting down to dinner with Fraulein Dietz and her friends. She seemed to associate with some of the most ugly and uninteresting people in the world and he could predict that none of them would care a dot about reading good books or be interested in art. It seemed doomed to be a dismal affair until he heard laughter outside in the hall.

On the Saturday morning there was some noise outside in the hall. It was the first Willy knew of Fraulein Dietz's brother spending the weekend at home, and when he opened the library door a crack to have a peep at the new arrival a spider tickle crawled down the back of his neck.

Eduard had bustled through the door of the house without any prior warning even to his sister, and his laugh was infectious, it was a laugh that was rich and warm and brought a grin to the face of everyone in hearing. In his Luftwaffe uniform with his visor-cap tipped jauntily to the side of his head he exuded vitality.

Fraulein Dietz greeted him with gentle annoyance for not giving her notice of his intention, but her reprimands fell away from him like water off a ducks back.

Now the prospect of dinner didn't seem so daunting. Eduard would be there, so at least there would be someone nice to look at. And at least Eduard knew what he was, so there would be no mistakes and no misunderstandings as there had been with Günter.

Excitement bubbled inside him. While he bathed and dressed that evening he hummed a little tune. Eagerness to share the same dinner table as Eduard made him feel flushed all over. He looked at himself in the mirror; too much lipstick he thought, and wiped it off with a handkerchief. Five minutes later it was the way he wanted.

He applied blush and mascara lightly, stepping back to study himself as he pinned up his hair the way Loti had taught him, and fixed it with a black velvet band. Everyone said it suited him that way.

From the wardrobe he selected a plain, black silk dress, backless, figure-hugging and sleeveless with a deep V in the front. The skirt draped below his knees in sinuous folds and stretched over the rounded contours of his body to make him feel like a rather sexy vamp. The style precluded the wearing of a brassier, and his breasts were nowhere near as pronounced as Rosalyn's or Loti's, but he fancied they did have a nice girlish jut to them. The boys in Heidelberg had always said they did, anyway.

Rummaging around for accessories he found a pair of gaudy gold-coloured earrings and a dinky black velvet choker that complimented his dress and the hair band, and which also added a beguiling facet to his slender white neck.

When all was done he leaned on the dressing table and studied his face again in the small mirror. He pushed back a stray strand of hair that had fallen over his forehead, turned his head on one side and smiled at himself as he stuck out a vampish tongue.

Move over Ginger Rogers, he thought.

Downstairs in the dining area the scene was one of intimacy and richness. It was an elegant place, its beige walls hung with panels of moiré silk, the carpets with their distinctive design, brought many years ago from the Caucasus. Candles flickered on an immaculately set table, lanterns illuminated the terrace outside and the balmy summer air wafting through the open windows was scented with jasmine.

The ambiance was almost that of a family gathering in which he felt oddly out of place. There were five people taking drinks on the terrace. Otto Hahn the solicitor, Eduard and Herman Strasser in their uniforms, and the academic from Berlin, Professor Pohl. And Celina Dietz of course, who was magnificently sheathed in a glittering emerald evening gown of metallic lame which was probably a Madeleine Vionnet creation.

Even when aware of his arrival there was a tendency for most of them there to ignore him. Only Eduard made any effort. He gave a friendly wave as if greeting an old school friend and Willy's heart gave a little flutter as he then walked over to him.

"You look enchanting this evening Willy. What would you like to drink?"

Willy wasn't very good with drink and had rarely ventured beyond an occasional glass of beer. Unfortunately he sensed that beer was out of the question in that place on that night.

"Um, er. Perhaps a sherry."

"Dry or sweet?"

"Oh, um. Sweet I think."

"Of course. And in a big glass with ice. It makes an excellent aperitif with ice."

"Lovely." Willy agreed, not knowing if it would be lovely or not.

Eduard went to the side of the room and returned baring a goblet of dark liquid that tinkled with ice cubes.

"Thank you." said Willy accepting the drink, "You're being very kind, but I don't wish you to neglect your sister's other guests."

The man's mouth curled up in cynical amusement and he replied in a soft, low voice. "Look at the choice Celina has given me. The professor, Herr Strasser and Otto Hahn. An egghead, a thug and a solicitor with the moral values of a second-hand car dealer. You are the only nice person here tonight. How are you doing with all that reading?"

Willy peeped up at his elegant features, feeling as giddy as the young girl he had never been. "I've done with the reading. I've made a start on typing it up."

When they sat down at the table he thought Eduard looked the dashing hero in his airforce uniform. Professor Pohl should have been resplendent in his white tuxedo, but he seemed to care little about his appearance. He was thin and wiry and wore heavy framed glasses, in his late fifties and didn't seem to care that his dinner jacket was unbuttoned and flapped open, and how his bow tie was tied inelegantly loose. During the meal that followed he sat with his chin cupped in his hands, elbows on the table, between each course of food.

For the first part of dinner the conversation centred on trivia. The food was delicious. Fraulein Dietz had persuaded Frau Klausen to provide an evening meal instead of a midday lunch that day, and she had excelled herself. A delicious home-made soup to start followed by veal escallops, and with a mouth-watering fruit sponge to finish. Otto Hahn glanced sideways with some amusement as he observed Willy tucking into the schnitzel on his plate with obvious relish.

"Your cook should be complimented, Celina. The food is clearly much appreciated. Few other people in Germany will have dined as well as we do this evening."

Celina Dietz reciprocated with a dignified smile. "Other people – oh, I'm in my let-them-eat-cake mood tonight." she replied lightly.

"Veal is one of my sister's favoured dishes." Eduard put in. "I prefer well hung fowl myself."

"Pheasant hunting," Otto said, "Is it still good around here?"

"Never better. All kind of game. The woods about here are a great joy."

Eduard's sister smiled dreamily. "Not like the shoots in the old days though – all the people that used to come here when I was a girl – the parties, the picnics, the good times. Ravenskopf was always full of guests then, often fifteen, twenty all at once."

Rosalyn and Loti were waiting-on-table, and from the slightly startled expression that erupted on Rosalyn's face each time he cleared crockery from before Herman Strasser it was clear the man was relishing the opportunity to caress the seat of his skirt with his broad hand whenever he could.

Willy found himself sipping wine nervously, his throat a little dry; it had something to do with the way Herr Hahn kept looking at him. It was disconcerting. It was as if he were devouring him with his eyes. Every now and again Otto smiled at him and for a brief moment touched his silk-clad knee.

When the meal was over the men lit cigars and sat back in their chairs.

"I've noticed you decorate this fine old house in a traditional Teutonic style, Fraulein Dietz," remarked the professor, "You haven't yet been seduced by the trend for Art Deco."

Celina hesitated, loathed to admit she couldn't afford to buy modern works of art even if she wished to.

Herman Strasser saved her the trouble of a reply. "Art Deco!" He spat the words out. "Art Decadent more like." he snarled.

Stirred by a subject close to his heart Willy spoke for the first time at the table. "Don't you think some of it is quite adventurous and rather exciting?"

The SS man gave him a disenchanted stare. "The Fuehrer despises all that distorted, modern abstract rubbish, and if he despises it so should we all." He turned to his host. "You spoke earlier of the good times, Fraulein Dietz, and I believe the good times are about to return. We have in Adolph Hitler a guide of the first magnitude in everything. I think everyone here will agree with that."

Celina smiled. "You speak of the Fuehrer as if he were a holy man."

"Perhaps he'd not holy, but there are many who label him as the 'New Messiah' and worship him without reservation. After the dismal years of the 1920s – the crippling war reparations imposed on us, the stripping away of our overseas colonies, the destruction of our economy – it is he more than anyone else who as given Germany back its self-respect. His decision to reintroduce compulsory military service for young men in defiance of the Great Powers I consider a master-stroke. It at once took the sharp edge off unemployment figures, while the need to equip an enlarged army as given German industry exactly the kind of fillip it required to rise up from its own ashes. "

"He as given us an airforce too," Otto Hahn said pointedly to Eduard. "The Luftwaffe now has the most formidable air fleet in the world. Other nation's sit-up and take notice of us now. Being militarily strong accommodated the Anschluss with Austria and won us back the Rhineland. I don't doubt it will also solve the Polish problem."

Celina sighed. "I don't think most people wish for another war. They still remember the terrible cost of the last one."

Herman Strasser offered a severe look. "Such people are selfish and are not good Germans. The Fuehrer thinks only of the welfare and betterment of the nation, and if necessary he will drag such faint-hearted fairies kicking and screaming into the glorious future he plans by the scruff of their miserable necks."

Testing for a diverse point of view Celina looked to the other side of the table. "You circulate in Berlin society, Professor Pohl. What is everyone saying? Will there be a war?"

The professor shrugged. "Speculation is rife. Herr Hitler as resolved to reunite all German speaking peoples in a Greater Reich. Everyone as their own theory and mine is that the Fuehrer must go further than that and move against Poland. It is the only way to provide Lebensraum – space for the German nation to expand. Poland can provide a great deal of space. Afterwards other places may also be useful, but first and foremost we must have Poland.

Herman nodded agreement. "The security and standing of any country is determined by the size of territory it possesses."

"Very true." Otto said, taking another swig of brandy.

"But Poland as a population of its own." put in Willy rather timorously.

Herman's dark heavy-lidded eyes glittered with passion as he looked around the table. His expression was one of stone, his face an effigy that wouldn't have looked out of place on Easter Island. "Only beast-like Slavs live there, and Herr Hitler has a profound hatred for them. The Slavs are remnants of the pagan Huns that pillaged Europe centuries ago and most of them will be removed. Those that are left we can use much like the ancient Spartans used the Helots. In the new Reich we shall probably need slaves to till the soil and provide labour for industry whilst the legions of our own vigorous Aryan warriors protect the state."

Professor Pohl sparkled with interest and resting both elbows on the table linked his fingers together. "Ah yes, the Aryan's. A fascinating subject and one that follows the line set down in Mein Kampf. Man is a fighting animal and the fighting capacity of a race is determined by its purity."

Otto Hahn drained his brandy glass and pouted thoughtfully. "I take it you support the theory that the Aryan or Nordic high-browed people are destined to rule over the more primitive low-browed races."

"Yes, it's a much debated, but widely held belief that all true German's originate from that mysterious and superior species of people, and any governing race would of course be under German leadership. Vacher de Lapouge made a very good case for it in his 'L'Aryen'. In some mythologies they are believed to have founded the ancient civilisation of Atlantis. But of course that society was destroyed by a great cataclysm long ago and now no one knows where it lay."

Willy hiccupped and wobbled slightly in his chair. He had consumed a large sherry and two glasses of sparkling Sec when even a small glass of beer usually made him feel whoosey, but that night the fortification loosened his inhibitions and encouraged him to speak out.

"Professor Dietz believed that Atlantis was a large island in the Baltic."

Pohl gasped in amazement. Eduard chuckled.

"Willy is collating my father's notes with the aim of putting together a book for me." explained Fraulein Dietz. She had planned to introduce Willy's involvement with her father's work at a time of her own choosing, and a look of severity crossed her face now showing her concern in case her guests should feel embarrassed at the interruption.

Herman Strasser just looked puzzled. "It would seem incredible. Can it be proven? I mean, that the site of that fabled lost continent is in the chilly Baltic?"

Most of what circulated in Willy's head was a mixture of an effete man's demented ramblings and his own thoughts, linked together by what other people had written in their own books. That was exactly the kind of things he was typing out to please Frauline Dietz, and it would probably have been best not to say too much about it. But the ability for conversation, almost dormant since he had sat down, was now revived, and once started he was unable to prevent himself continuing with gusto.

"There is evidence that antelope, elephants and crocodiles once lived in Europe, so the entire region must have been sub-tropical at one time. Ancient Greek tradition as it that Atlantis lay beyond the Pillars of Hercules – a reference to the Straits of Gibraltar - but that only means it wasn't in the Mediterranean. It could be anywhere else. Professor Dietz studied everything very carefully, and he was sure that a large stretch of land existed once in the waters to the north of Pomerania. He was certain that a magnificent civilisation once thrived there, and he was convinced it could only have been Atlantis."

At the foot of the table Eduard cradled a brandy balloon with both hands and offered his warmest smile. For him the conversation had taken an opaque turn, and had now become incoherent. "Is any of this credible to the scientific mind, Herr Pohl?" he asked.

Pohl paused to examine the glowing end of his cigar, pale blue eyes myopic behind thick spectacles. "It makes perfect sense and I'm sure the Fuehrer would agree. He is convinced that every manifestation of human culture, every product of art, science and technical skill that we benefit from today is the product of Aryan creative power."

His gaze suddenly rose up and settled keenly on Willy.

"My friend, the eminent Professor Rosenburg as long maintained that the Nordic people evolved in a now-lost land mass in north-western Europe, and if Atlantis produced the Aryan race it would obviously be close to Germany. If dear Professor Dietz can present proof to qualify such a theory his work will be precisely the kind of academic study so many important people are yearning for. Can he do that? Can he provide proof?"

Willy sensed Fraulein Dietz's eyes glaring hard in his direction, almost demanding an affirmative answer. She was smiling but it was the kind of smile that cautioned him against smiling in return. He hid his anxiety, his long lashes drooping over eyes that might have revealed uncertainty. "Erm, oh yes. I'm sure he can." he said.

Throughout the entire evening Otto Hahn had been acutely aware of the smart little morsel seated next to him. He'd admired Willy's girlish profile in the flickering candlelight, noting how elegantly his hair was pinned back except for a few corkscrew tresses that had prised themselves loose to drift about his face and neck.

"You're a saucy madam and no mistake. You spoke up very bravely just now." he murmured.

When the little porcelain princess gave him a watery smile he decided it was time to try for something else, and Willy's attention was suddenly diverted once more by the man's straying hand, which this time moved from his knee to grope beneath his skirt in an attempt to run lecherous fingers along his inner thigh.

Willy dug his nails dig into the palms of his hands as he swivelled sideways to shake off the lecherous intrusion, but suspected the man wouldn't desist until he made a scene that was certain to bring on Fraulein Dietz's displeasure, which was certain to be displeasure at his own behaviour rather than that of the debauched solicitor.

The tortured expression of discomfort on his face was soon noticed by Eduard, who pushed himself to his feet. "Excuse me everyone, but I need to get outside and take a breath of fresh air." Turning his eyes sideways he added. "Perhaps Willy would like to join me."

"Oh yes. I'd like that." Willy exclaimed pushing back his chair.

Eduard's boots scraped on the paving as he strode onto the terrace. "I hope you don't think I'm taking advantage of you by requesting your company."

"Not at all. I'm only grateful to get away from the table. I was beginning to feel trapped."

"I understand. Some of my sister's acquaintances are not gentlemen."

He received back a trusting look that made his insides tighten.

"You're a gentleman, Eduard. I think you probably lark around a lot with your friends, but I sense you are very right and proper about things that really matter."

Eduard nodded solemnly. "I'd feel upset if we beat the Poles in a war and didn't treat them right afterwards. In the past the Reichwehr as always been honourable in its fights, and I resent the likes of Herr Strasser wishing to poison that tradition."

The evening air was warm and sweetly perfumed by the garden and he at once invited Willy to descend from the terrace and take a stroll among the shrubs and stands of flowers. They walked side by side for a while, careful not to touch.

"At the moment my airgruppe is converting from Stuka dive-bombers to the new Messerschmitt fighters. Superb machines. The best in the world. If trouble does come they will prove a real war winner."

"'War is sweet – to them that know it not.'" replied Willy solemnly. "The philosopher Erasmus wrote those words five hundred years ago, and they are as true today as they were then. I wish everyone would stop talking about war."

Eduard treated him to a slow smile. "I dare say you do. You are a gentle creature, Willy, but unfortunately we are living through times that require forceful measures. The Great Powers suffered from political blindness following their success in 1918. In a move to punish our country and keep it weak they granted Poland access to the port of Danzig on the Baltic coast by way of a wide strip of land that cuts through German territory."

"I've heard of it. It's referred to as the Polish Corridor."

"Yes. It separates East Prussia from the rest of Germany; a nonsense, you will agree, to split a country into two pieces like that. And it's not just the Corridor either. The Poles have never ceased in their claims to the greater part of Silesia, a province that as been German since the time of Frederick the Great.

"This book my sister insists you write – my fathers concepts – it's all silliness of course."

Willy gave him a sheepish look. "Herr Professor Pohl was enthusiastic. He seemed to accept it immediately."

Eduard scuffed the toe of his boot against the gravel path. "My father was ill prior to his death and probably deranged, moreover he was consumed by a fanatical desire to please Hitler, just like so many others these days. The eminent professor from Berlin is a perfect example. He is willing to sacrifice his professional commonsense and believe anything that fits in with the notion of a master race, no matter how absurd it may be, while the Fuehrer himself is influenced by Himmler's fascination with mumbo-jumbo." He sighed. "The fault dear Brutus, is not in our stars but in ourselves."

Willy grinned. "You surprise me. You're quoting William Shakespeare."

Eduard smiled. "I'm not a complete warmonger. I have been educated, Willy. And just for the record, I rather like Art Deco."

They passed through the small formal garden and followed the curve of a gravel path into open parkland. "I used to take an interest in weeding and pruning when I was young." Eduard said. And he proceeded to confound Willy by explaining to him the various problems encountered in growing greenhouse tomatoes with all the smoothness of an expert.

It was not yet fully dark and the open ground smelled heavily, deliciously of sweet grass. The distance from the house incited a relaxed mood and an atmosphere that was erotic embraced the airforce officer. It was persuasive, seducing all his senses. The good food and wine he had consumed and now the flower-perfumed air and the soft lantern light had combined to give the illusion of a wonderland where he found himself lost in admiration of Willy's unsettling appearance.

He drew to a halt and raised a broad finger to stroke beneath Willy's chin and lift his face. "Are you familiar with Shakespeare's Sonnet 18?"

Willy's pulse galloped. "Um, er. Yes, I think so."

Eduard placed a hand on each side of his face and looked deep into his eyes. "Doesn't it begin with something like, 'Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate…'?" he murmured.

He was looking intensely at Willy as he said it, heated eyes lingering on his face, and Willy immediately turned to mush. "Yes, it does… Herr Dietz, I – I …"

"Let slip the formality. You must call me Eduard. In the past I have never approved of my sister's interests and I've certainly never indulged in what she offers. But you are different to the others she keeps here. More delicate. More feminine. More beautiful."

Eduard inhaled deeply, chest expanding as he tried to retain control of his emotions and his body. It was one thing to have a soft spot for this winsome youth dressed in women's clothing, but quite another to feel sexual longing for him. It was forbidden, immoral, and it was unnatural to be attracted to someone such as Willy, he tried to remind himself. It was perverted. It mustn't escalate further.

It did no good; his thoughts remained syrupy and dim from a heady rush of sensation.

Willy watched keenly as his handsome face hovered in front of his own, and their eyes locked. He watched fascinated as his mouth came closer. Eduard was going to kiss him, he just knew it. His small breasts ached and the teats of his nipples stood out. And then his eyes somehow closed all by themselves and their mouths were linked, and he was dying of love.

Leaning over, Eduard's mouth went down on Willy's, and in response Willy readily opened his lips. The moment Eduard's tongue touched his own he trembled and his knees turned to jelly, his heart lurched and every molecule of his body reacted to mould against the fabric of his uniform. He clung to him, softness against hardness, a perfect fit, a fit to heighten desire. His arms looped around Eduard's neck, his fingers coiled in his silky hair. He smelled so good, he thought, a mingling of shaving cream, body heat and musky male odour.

It made him weak with longings he didn't know how to avoid. He only knew his breasts were hard where they crushed against his muscular manly chest and he could feel an aching sensation lower down.

Indulging, savouring, Eduard's hands became clamped behind Willy's back, but after just a few moments they began shifting, moving, running over his bottom and around his waist. Willy felt a thumb stroke over his hipbone and then across his stomach, then the hand cruised higher, over his ribcage and up to his chest to push aside the flimsiness of his dress at the front and unfurl the ribbon of sensation that linked his upper body with his groin.

"Mmm." The hands continued moving. Eduard's palms pressed forward and big, manly hands were on his bare skin, pumping, caressing and lifting his miniscule breasts.

Willy felt like he was melting, but despite that he was all too aware of the man's mouth and hands, his broad shoulders, his hard body – and his hard…

Abruptly Eduard's shoulders flexed as the weight of the situation settled in his mind and with a muffled oath he eased himself away. "I don't think we can go any further with this." he murmured with a wry grimace.

Willy caught his lower lip between his teeth. "Really?" he murmured chokily, "So, what happens now?"

"You're sweet both in mind and body, so we can be friends. But friends are all we can ever be."

Willy's hands fell to his sides and his eyes mirrored his disappointment, but he simply shrugged and adopted a casual manner he was far from feeling. He had surrendered to the handsome Luftwaffe officer; he had put aside his shyness and reserve and had been prepared to be ravished by him, only to be cast aside at the final moment. Another mistake, exactly as it had been with Günter.

Eduard's apology had been sincere, he knew that. But that didn't compensate for what may have been. Chastened by his rejection they walked back to the house in silence, and just before they arrived on the terrace the anger that comes with rejection overcame him and he stormed off ahead.

When he entered the dining-room Celina, Herr Strasser and Professor Pohl were standing up taking coffee and talking while Loti and Rosalyn scurried back and forth clearing the table.

Almost at once he felt an arm slip possessively around his waist. "Nice," said a voice that accompanied a hand appreciatively running up and down the skimpy fabric of his dress. "I can't imagine what Celina is thinking of, letting you off the leash to roam around with Eduard. That boy doesn't appreciate people like you the way I do."

Willy's gold-coloured earrings clinked as he swung round with a start. Otto Hahn was standing beside him and at once he noticed the forward drop of the man's head, the eyes, bloodshot from the amount of alcohol he had consumed, and the large salivating mouth with its leering grin.

"He's clearly finished with you, so perhaps you would take a turn in the garden with me next." the man remarked, "Sexy little fruitcakes such as you will be well used to spreading their buns for more than one man in an evening I would think."

Willy tried to move away but the man's arm held him firmly in place. "I'm not a slut, Herr Hahn" he protested.

Unimpressed the solicitor's hand moved up from the small of his back, sliding against bare skin to probe the line of his spine.

"Someone like you can't afford to be choosey, sweetheart." he replied thickly, burying his face in the hollow of his neck. "In this place you will be reasonably safe as long as you behave yourself, but if you're compelled to join the army you'll be the regimental bike – everybody will ride you."

Distraught and feeling vulnerable Willy felt his lower belly tighten, a tightness borne out of knowing the man's expectations. He hated the man for what he was doing, hated his voice, hated his greasy hair and his fingers probing up and down his back.

Just at that moment Eduard came through the French windows, his mouth taking on a vaguely sardonic twist at the sight of his distress. At once his voice cut through the tension.

"Otto, may I have a word with you in confidence outside on the terrace?"

The solicitor was obviously displeased at being interrupted and didn't hide the fact. "For goodness sake, what is it now?" he grumbled irritably as he released his grip on Willy and followed Eduard out through the French doors.

After no more than a few seconds Otto staggered back into the room, groaning sorrowfully and clutching both hands to his face.

Eduard came in behind him and beckoned to one of the maids. "Loti, would you look after Herr Hahn? He took a tumble just now and banged his nose on the masonry outside. I think he's bleeding."

Willy sidled up to him as Otto was led away. "Eduard, did you hit Herr Hahn?"

The man shook his head. "No, no. Truly he banged his nose on the wall, although I will admit my hand assisted in propelling his face towards it." He smiled grimly. "A relationship between you and I may be impossible, but I couldn't stand back and allow him to maul you in such a ghastly way. One thing is certain. The odious creature will not bother you again. That much I have established."

Willy felt slightly ashamed of the way he had indignantly strutted off and left him earlier. "You are indeed a friend, Eduard. I'm lucky to have you as a friend."

Celina Dietz was astute enough to guess what had just happened and was infuriated that one of her most useful allies had been subject to such treatment. While Eduard was replenishing his drink she deftly slid up beside Willy and whispered in his ear. "The party is over for you, you little trouble-maker. Get up the stairs."

 

The evening ended soon after Willy had departed, Otto Hahn consoled his discomfort by taking Loti up to bed and after a brief pause Herman Strasser made a similar arrangement with Rosalyn.

Celina and the professor chatted for a while longer then went to separate rooms.

"If you are to return to Grottkau tomorrow it would be unwise to stay up too long." the woman advised her brother.

Eduard watched the door close behind her then slowly walked to the window, his dispassionate gaze tracing the paved path that he had so recently walked with Willy.

He had never invested much time or effort in relationships with the opposite sex. Men and women were different. Men did things one-two-three, and when it came to practical stuff a man had to take into account that the heads of females were on upside down. Throughout his adult life he had found women unpredictable and illogical, but although he gave them no encouragement they seemed strangely attracted to him.

He switched on the wireless and listened to the end of the late night news. There was an item about brutish Polish vagrants raping virtuous young German maidens in the land corridor to Danzig. He'd heard similar things before and recognised them as scurrilous propaganda-babble designed to stir up loathing and hatred of the Poles.

He turned the wireless off and prowled the room, pacing in circles, achingly aware of the person he most wished to be with. Unbuttoning his tunic he removed it and threw it across a chair.

A shiver ran through him, but it was not caused by the lack of a coat or by a ghost walking over his grave. It was Willy, fragile and radiant, projecting both childlike and feminine qualities. His mind was suddenly full of him; his scent, the way his skin had felt under his hands, the little lift at the corner of his mouth. A smiling mouth, he remembered, smiling himself.

That strangely naïve, rather scatter-brained young transvestite brought out a streak of tenderness in him he had not known he possessed. He had a wonderful instinctive sexuality that he'd never needed to learn. He enjoyed himself, enjoyed his body. No guilt. No play-acting.

He raked through his hair with unsteady fingers, remembering the forbidden joy he had known with Willy in the garden, his lust made him hard. Sometimes a woman may be not quite a female, he thought.

It was a dangerous thought, he warned himself sternly. There was no room in his life for someone like Willy.

In his room Willy Froehlich slipped off the black dress and heels and the lacy underwear and left them in a little heap on the floor while he slipped into a pale yellow silk nightdress that felt like flowing water against his bare skin. Maybe it wasn't silk, he thought, maybe it was that cheaper rayon-stuff that looked like silk, but it didn't matter, it felt like silk.

He lay in his little bed and drew the sheet up to his chin, but sleep didn't come. There were too many thoughts in his head, too many memories that were almost painful. What was it about Eduard Dietz that teased him so much? It wasn't just his fine looks, which he had in plenty. Perhaps it was the way he carried himself so easily, as if nothing could shake his quiet strength. And yet he was not arrogant. His confidence was born of honour. Eduard had defended him so stoutly earlier in the evening, but unfortunately nothing could come of it, that was certain. A man like him could never give himself over to a close relationship with a cross-dresser, and a cross-dresser Willy Froehlich was, there was no doubt about it. He had found his place in life by being feminine.

His reverie was disturbed by a tapping on the door of his room, and he climbed out from under his sheet. Barefoot and slender in silk that drifted around bare legs he stood at the closed portal. "Who is it?"

"It's me. Eduard," came a reply, "Can I speak to you for a moment."

Willy fussed with his appearance, draped in clinging yellow and with a halo of golden hair, he felt like a Botticelli angel. But an angel of course he was not. He certainly wasn't feeling like an angel that night. Far from it.

When he opened the door the tall Luftwaffe officer was in his shirt sleeves looking slightly confused and apprehensive.

"Can I come in?" he said.

Willy allowed him into the room then leaned back against the door as he closed it.

"Willy," the man whispered, his vice disturbingly low and gentle. "I erm… I have to apologise. I'm not used to women, and much less used to beautiful boys dressed up as women." Then suddenly he faltered. Eduard Dietz was a man rarely stuck for words, but this occasion had caught him out.

Willy shook his head and recklessly raised himself up on his toes in order to touch his mouth against his. "That's okay. It's alright."

Few words were spoken because few were needed. Instinctively they both knew why he was there, and neither regretted it. Their thoughts were as in tune as any two peoples thoughts could be. It was something Willy had hoped for but hadn't dare think possible.

The man stepped closer, put his hand on his shoulders. He could feel delicate bones beneath his fingers, could see the flickering of a pulse in the transvestite's throat. Willy's anxious eyes sought his, and what he saw in them melted any resistance he may have had left. Almost hypnotically he allowed himself to be drawn into the man's arms.

Eduard pressed his chin against his temple and enveloped him with his embrace, putting a hand on the nape of the girl-things neck he eased his fingers into his soft blond hair, felt the moist heat there. He pulled him close and saw Willy's mouth open in a soft oh of surprise as he kissed the corner of his mouth, his eyelashes, his brows and the line of his jaw.

Willy wasn't sure how he ended up in his arms or whether Eduard said anything more. All he was aware of was that he had thrown his arms around the man's waist and anchored himself to his strength, and things he knew he should have said dissolved in his throat, demolished by the man's touch and taste and by his incredibly heady scent.

It all seemed like a dream as he pressed against Eduard's long, lean body, a hazy cloud of romance, a fantasy come true. His skin tingled beneath the silk of his negligee, the garment drawing in the heat from two manly hands. Now he understood the appeal of silk. Such fabric seemed to intensify every touch.

Eduard leaned into him, outlining the shape of his mouth with his tongue, biting his lower lip, running his tongue along the smooth ridge of his teeth or order to sample the taste of his mouth. In return Willy wrapped his arms around him and threw himself into the kiss, his mouth pressing hungrily upwards, parting his lips, drinking him in until he was breathless and dizzy.

He could feel the tautness of strong biceps as arms pulled him forward. The man's breath caressed the side of his face and there was the sweetness of his lips against his own. Mmm, he thought, Mmm, as he tasted tongue, sweet, smooth, slippery. Just how it should be.

The kiss went on and on and passion rose between them. As tension began to build Willy pulled him closer, wanting more, and suddenly a fantasy wasn't good enough for him. He wanted a real flesh and blood man with hard muscle and smooth skin. He wanted a man driven by lust and desire to take him.

He drew back and looked into Eduard's eyes, and for a moment he was surprised by the vulnerability he saw there. It was as if he were looking at a different man to the carefree one he had come to know.

With a low laugh Willy swung forward and playfully bit him on the earlobe, then traced the contours of his ear with his tongue. "I'm yours to do what you want with." he whispered.

He heard Eduard's breath quicken and a moan rumble in his chest as he gripped Willy with both hands, his fingers as elegant and forceful as the rest of him. "Let me look at you," he insisted, pushing the straps of the negligee from his shoulders.

As the garment slipped to the floor hands exploring his body and Willy gasped out his name low and urgent as spasms of pleasure began to engulf him.

He turned towards him and unfastened the top button of his shirt, then working systematically down as far as his belt, unbuckled it, unzipped his fly and pressed his hand against him, arousing him with the warmth of his palm. Loti had once said Eduard Dietz was hung like a cart horse, but at that moment Willy thought he was massaging the shaft of the cart itself.

Nibble fingers quickly exposed everything and Eduard's penis was then standing out, raised up from the horizontal in a flattering Hitler salute.

Slowly Willy sank to his knees and his mouth and wet tongue briefly caressed the fleshy sacs of the man's testicles before paying full attention to the main event. His hand flirted with it, appreciative fingers wrapping around its impressive contours to feel its strength, then after lapping at the juices flowing from its broad tip he took it in his mouth to adore it.

Just a few hours ago, Eduard would have been horrified by the kind of scene he was now a party to, but his blood was running too fiercely to hesitate now. Willy wanted more than sweet kisses and tender caresses, and he did too.

In a rush of commitment he swept Willy up in his arms as if he were a new bride and carried him across to the bed.

Lying on his back Willy yielded immediately, looking up at the man who dominated him, eyes wide, pupils dilated. Consumed by desire, his body began to twitch with impatience.

Eduard watched for a moment and then slid between his thighs. The fires of love were all ignited and aching longing to please swept over both of them.

There was no restrictions, no coyness, no haggling. Willy raised his legs, and

grasping the man's penis like the handle of a tennis racket he tugged it forward to the place of his desire.

Eduard lined himself up and screwed forward, and seizing Willy by the hips he drove forward in a act of wondrous carnal delight, deep into his pulsing centre.

The two of them groaned in unison, establishing a rapport of pleasure given and pleasure received which transcended everything else. Suddenly Willy's insides felt full, and his whole body blazed in reaction. When he felt his flesh compelled to stretch his head snapped up and he gasped.

"Oh, Eduard, you're such a big… man."

"Am I hurting you?"

"No, it's alright. Don't stop. I want you to finish properly.

Eduard collapsed between his thighs and the transvestite's long legs parted and wrapped around his muscular trunk, the calves becoming ever shapelier.

As Eduard began to move Willy expelled a tightly held sigh as his grip on reality slackened and they copulated in a man and woman fashion. Eduard bit his neck, pulled his breasts and possessed him, moving slowly at first and stroking inside against places that made him groan with joy. Willy became transported into a neverworld of pure sensation has he twisted sensuously beneath him, loving every movement of the powerful body against and inside his own, absorbing every thrust, feeling the room spiralling around until at last the man's body tensed.

Eduard froze for a moment, his muscles taut his eyes squeezed tightly shut, and then he moved once more, rapidly and ferociously this time, moaning out loud, his thighs convulsing several times to indicate that his orgasm was intense and probably very copious.

At last they lay together, their bodies damp and tangled, still joined as one, neither of them willing to break their fragile bond.

Eventually Eduard whispered softly in Willy's ear. "I have to return to Grottkau in the morning. Something is brewing that may entail active service, and I don't know how soon I'll be able to visit again. Can I stay here for a while tonight?"

"It's only a single bed."

"You mean it's too big?" Eduard murmured huskily. And he smiled his beaming smile.

 

Herman Strasser found Berlin sweltering beneath a hot summer sun. The cafes on the Kurfurstendamm were crowded, girls wore gaily flowers dresses and businessmen took off their ties, while the beaches along the Havel See and the Spree were packed with bathers.

Alfred Helmut Naujock, Head of the Sicherheitsdienst (SD) stood behind his desk in his office on the Wilhelmstrasse wearing an immaculately tailored black uniform. Behind him the wall was hung with red, white and black banners and a giant portrait of Hitler. Herman stood in the centre of the room.

"I was summoned before Heydrich yesterday directly after his meeting with Reichsfuhrer SS Himmler." Naujock began. "It seems the Fuhrer wishes to be furnished with a palpable reason for crossing the Polish frontier in force, and we have to provide it."

Herman was suitably shocked, but the shock quickly settled into dour satisfaction and he glowed. "An invasion? At last! I was beginning to think it would never happen."

"Well, it is to happen. We have been given the task of creating an incident – an acte provocateur, as the French would say, that will enrage the German people and illicit sympathy from other nations. It must be a good enough reason to warrant an all out attack. The Fuehrer as always maintained that Poland should not exist as a country, and a small war should settle the matter to his satisfaction."

Naujock moved from behind his desk. "In the past we have manufactured a number of incidents along the German-Polish border at the behest of the Party, all minor trifling affairs designed to stir up anti-Polish feelings. This time it must be something more substantial. Something that will provide a good headline. To restore our nation to its rightful status everyone must be convinced that freedom by force of arms is possible, and the German population must be more frightened of the Poles than of going to war with them."

He walked to a wall map, and with a red pencil he circled a place name at the tip of the finger-like salient of Silesia that jabbed like a dagger into the belly of Poland.

Strasser blinked. "Gleiwitz! I know that place. It's in my Wehrkreise – my military district. I was there recently. American cowboys would call it a one horse town, but I know people who live in the vicinity."

"Good. Then you will know that it's close to the Polish border. It is of no importance but for the fact it has a radio transmitter linked to the Deutchlandfunk."

Naujocks turned slowly and tapped his knuckles thoughtfully with his pencil. "Now let us suppose that a party of Polish troops stormed the radio station one evening in an act of misplaced bravado, and let us suppose they broadcast a message insulting and threatening both the Fuehrer and the German people. We would have to consider that a serious provocation and deal out a stern reply."

For all his usual warlike bluster Herman looked slightly shocked. "Yes… but invasion? It would mean a big war; the Poles are in alliance with the French and British."

"Mere pieces of paper, dear Herman." Naujock assured him with a wave of his hand. "They are paper treaties that will dissolve with the first real hint of hostilities."

Crossing to a table he poured out a shot of schnapps but neglected to offer any to Herman. "And if the allies of the Poles do put up their fists, what can they do? France hides behind its Maginot Line of fortresses which a simple thrust through Belgium can outflank, while the British government – so long the advocates of world disarmament - maintain an army that is small and weak and have an airforce that is still under reconstruction after twenty years of neglect." He paused only to throw the shot of corn liquor down his throat. "They are both bluffers, those two. They will stand back in regard to Poland just as they did with Czechoslovakia last year, and since Herr Ribbentrop as provided us with a friendship pact with Russia we can expect co-operation rather than interference from the Soviets."

"There is still the Americans to take into account. What about America?"

Naujock smiled complacently. "The Americans pursue a policy of isolation and are turned inward on themselves. The rest of the planet can fry in hell for all they care. No. No need to fret about them. And anyway, when all is said and done, we are not threatening Western Europe. Hitler has his eyes focused on the east. He wants land, large stretches of it, and it's to the east where the land is."

"Everything seems to have been studied very rigorously, but then the Fuehrer always calculates every move he makes extremely well."

The other man smiled. "Yes, and it's advisable to leave the creation of ideas to those who know best. We do not make policy; we merely carry through the orders given to us. Come now my friend, this is serious business and we are serious-minded men. Anti-Polish feelings gives the German nation something to bind them together, and eventually Hitler can use that adhesion to dominate all of Western Europe while he completes what he has decided to do in the east. The Gestapo are committed to helping us in this business. The army as been warned and the generals are ready to move next week, so we must not let them down."

Moving forward he placed a hand on Herman's shoulder in a comradely gesture. "I shouldn't need to draw pictures for you. The culprits – the Polish troops involved in this little escapade - will a SD Sonderkommando of our own men."

 

Bratwurst and boiled potatoes was lunch. Just about every other meal provided for the house staff at Ravenskopf consisted of sausage of some kind, but Frau Klausen remained unimpressed by any complaint.

She switched off the sound of a German marching band that was playing on the wireless. "Don't moan about the food, at least you usually get meat. There's plenty of people in Germany these days who still exist on eating cabbage."

Pulling on the lambswool coat she wore constantly, winter and summer, she added vindictively. "There's a special police detachment visiting the town today. They're checking identity papers, looking for army deserters and shirkers trying to avoid military service."

No one at the table made a reply. She had finished her lunch duty and they watched her leave. They all knew she had been amusing herself by trying to sow a seed of alarm.

When she'd gone Loti gave Willy a nudge. "Don't worry about those policemen. Glerwitz is such a small place they'll be gone in a few hours, and they'll never come to Ravenskopf while Fraulein Dietz keeps in thick with Herr Strasser. He protects her from them."

"I'm fed-up with sausage and I'm fed-up with hiding. I wish I could go back to my studies." Willy said glumly.

The cook always left the kitchen pots to be cleaned by Loti and Rosalyn, which allowed Loti to scoop up some gravy from the dish served to Fraulein Dietz to put over his potatoes.

"Where do you come from, Willy?"

"Leipzig is where my mother lives, but I'm much more at home in Heidelberg."

Loti slumped down at the table with his plate in front of him and expelled breath in a long sigh. "I'm a Berliner myself. I miss the hustle and bustle of that dirty, smelly old place and I wish I could go back there and sit in front of a big dish of kasespatzle. Have you ever been to Berlin?"

"Once when I was little I was taken there to visit a relative. I remember the Friedrichstrasse station and the tramways around the Potsdamer Platz, and of course the famous traffic tower."

"I lived not far from there." Loti told him, "I had lodgings on the Saarlandstrasse when I was in cabaret. Those were the good times. The adoring audiences, the applause, the Stage-Door Johnnies queuing for kisses and begging for a date. I knew Ernst Roehm, you know. I was one of his favourites. Do you know who I'm talking about?"

Willy moved his shoulders in an offhand gesture. "I think I do."

"Herr Roehm was the leader of the Sturm Abteilung, the Brownshirt storm troops. He was very high-up, very important. But then he fell out with the Fuehrer, and Hitler had him shot. The Night of the Long Knives, they called it. Hitler had hundreds of people shot that night, although some of them were allowed to drink poison if they preferred." He gave a small dismal shrug. "And then my conscription papers arrived and I had to come and hide here."

Rosalyn joined them having just completed serving Fraulein Dietz her coffee. "How is the Professor's book coming along, Willy?"

"I've completed a good portion of it. Fraulein Dietz is very pleased with what she's seen so far."

"She was very pleased with the impression it created with that professor from Berlin when he was here, and Herr Strasser reckons that if it is everything it promises to be it will stand shoulder to shoulder with Mein Kampf on every good German's bookshelf. I have the idea that Fraulein Dietz is relying on the sale of it to finance the refurbishment of this old house."

"Having put together such a fine thing will probably make you famous, Willy."

Willy chewed his sausage absently. "I didn't do much. I just wrote up Professor Dietz's notes and added a few bits."

Rosalyn put down his knife and fork and his face suddenly screwed up with alarm. "You added bits? What bits?"

"Well, the professor's notes are all rather fuddled and cranky, so I've had to put in a few bits of my own to make things sound more reasonable."

Loti's face clouded in concern. "Just how many bits of your own have you put in?"

Willy shuffled uncomfortably in his seat. "Quite a lot actually. Some basic information and some conclusions that were needed. It would have been impossible to make everything fit together and make sense otherwise."

"You're a silly bitch, Willy. Fraulein Dietz will be sending copies of her father's work to all kinds of important people. Perhaps even to the Fuehrer. If just one of them becomes curious and demands to see the original notes, then where will you be? Those lofty self-important kinds of people don't like being hoodwinked."

"No, they've got no sense of humour at all, so you'd better do something to delay finishing that book or Fraulein Dietz could find herself chucked into a Konzentrationslager, and you poor Willy, you will be sliced up and put through a meat-mincing machine."

Suddenly he didn't feel like eating any more. He put down his knife and fork and pushed away his plate, a worried frown coming and going on his smooth cheeks. Placing a coffee cup between his bare elbows he crouched over it. When he looked into the sympathetic blue-shadowed eyes of his companions and knew they were right. In trying so hard to please Fraulein Dietz he was probably digging his own grave.

 

Late on a summer evening, Sonderkommando Naujock - six men dressed in civilian clothes and travelling in two black Opal saloon cars - arrived in the town of Gleiwitz. They stayed overnight in the Hotel Oberschlesischer Hof and the next morning in the guise of a geological research team they spent time digging around ostensibly collecting earth samples from various places in the town.

No one found it odd that they hovered most of the time in the vicinity of the soot-stained building of the radio station, so during this reconnaissance it was quickly established that the easiest way into the building was at the front. At the top of a short flight of stone steps the double doors of the front entrance seemed to be perpetually pinned back to allow access.

While the others made their observations Herman Strasser visited Fraulein Dietz to enlist her co-operation – for the good of the German nation and the glory of the National Socialist Party, he told her - and later that afternoon the entire team drove to Ravenskopf where they changed into brown Polish army uniforms.

The air was thick with cigarette smoke in the small, long disused salon where Naujock assembled his team. He noticed that their clothes fitted badly, but that didn't matter for a one-off, one-act play.

His team were joking about with a pair of lace panties they'd found under one of the cushions, and he smiled with them.

"No flirting with the skirts in this place while we are here." he told them. "Stay anonymous and keep focused on the job we have to do."

He checked his watch. "We'll return to the town at nineteen-thirty and go into the radio station by the front entrance, slick and quick. The daytime office staff there will have gone by then, so there will be fewer people to worry about. Remember that the Gestapo are in this with us, but the local police aren't, so if any of them get in the way play out the role of a Polish terrorist and shoot them."

He half-turned and then turned back, and with a grim smile added. "I'll remind you now that this is top-secret business and if you're disabled and get left behind you'll have to shoot yourself. If you don't kill yourself the Gestapo clean-up squad will certainly do it for you. Verstanden?"

There was a unified chorus of "Jawohl" from everyone present, after which he drew Herman Strasser to one side.

"Herman, make sure you know the text you have to read, there won't be time for rehearsals later. And I hope you know your stuff. This country-bumpkin Radiohaus we're attacking will be operating on a local waveband and we must broadcast on a national one, and there is always a possibility that the people there will refuse to co-operate with us."

"I don't have a problem with that. Whilst I was in Berlin I spent some time at the radio studio's to familiarise myself with the switch-over procedure."

"That's good. Now, one last thing. The girl's from this place never go into the town, do they?"

"No. Fraulein Dietz keeps them tied to the house and watches over them like they were prize brood mares."

"Which is ideal for our plans. It means they won't be recognised, so choose one of them to accompany us. I want her to go in first."

"A girl?"

"Yes. We need to provide a distraction. When we were in the town earlier I noticed a security guard sits inside the door at the Radio Station, and if he's alert and sees Polish soldiers running up the steps this evening he may well slam the doors in our face and lock them. That would be an inauspicious start to our adventure, wouldn't it?"

Herman Strasser's eyes opened wide. "It would be a disaster. That place is built like a blockhouse; we'd need a tank to get in."

The other man nodded. "That would be hardly slick and quick, would it? That's why we need a girl to engage the guard in conversation and get him to turn his back to the street if possible, until we're all inside. Choose one. No, tell that beguiling little thing that acts as the Fraulein's secretary to come with us. She's got good legs and an arse to make eyeballs explode."

 

They had timed it precisely. The dark building of the radio station loomed before them as the two Opal saloons pulled into the kerb at the roadside no more than a hundred yards from their destination. It was only early evening but there was no one about. The street was empty. Gleiwitz was a small market town and at that time in the evening everyone would be having a meal. The whole place was dreaming in evening sunshine and not even a stray dog was moving within their vision.

"I don't like this. I don't like being here." bemoaned Willy from the back seat of the first car.

Herman Strasser swung round from his place beside the driver. "Shut up for goodness sake. All you have to do is talk to the man on the door. You won't be in any danger. Just hold his attention until we all get inside."

Willy climbed from the car and walked unhappily towards the front of the radio station. He'd been told nothing about the reason he was there; just talk nicely to the man on the door was all he'd been told. The men in the cars could have been a gang of robbers, except that he knew the ugly building in front of him wasn't a bank.

Life had become so terribly complicated lately. The wretched book he had been compelled to write had put him in a dilemma. His original idea was simply to do something to please Fraulein Dietz, but the silly woman had become ambitious for what he'd made of it. The snag was that although the preposterous make-believe he'd created was good enough to fool her it was unlikely to fool everyone, and if he did completed it – a book almost wholly strung together by imaginative fabrication - they would both probably end up in a prison camp.

He was trapped by it. How was he to get out of the hole into which he had dug himself? Maybe if he had explained the problem to Eduard he would have been able to bring his sister to her senses. He felt strong when Eduard was near and such a weak little girl when he wasn't. But it was too late for that now. Eduard had returned to his unit and he had no idea when he would see him again.

The building loomed before him, a square, soot-encrusted place with rows of small unwashed windows and a heavy entrance door standing wide to admit the maximum amount of air on a sultry evening. When he saw the set of steps leading up to the door he had a strong urge to turn and run, but in the end he was more fearful of the men in the cars than the steps.

He hung back for a moment like a lion-tamers apprentice, then taking a deep breath he trip-trapped lightly up to the entrance.

Sat to the left, just inside the open door in a sort of foyer area sat an elderly blue-suited guard who was just about to bite into a sandwich. Willy gave him a winning smile. "Oh, hello. I'm new around here, just visiting the town. This is a nice building. Is it… erm…is it the Town Hall?"

Swamped by the attention of a pretty girl, the guard put his sandwich back into the tin he'd taken it from and stood up smiling. "This place is more important than the average Rathaus, little Fraulein."

Willy stepped further into the building, wiggling his bottom alluringly, and the man's eyes followed his every move. At last he turned towards him. Distract the man, had been his instructions. Hold his attention.

He wet his lips with the tip of his tongue and conjured up a vampish smile. "I'm intrigued. Tell me more…"

"She's done it." muttered Herr Strasser, squinting through a car windscreen along the street. "The little bitch has the guard's attention and he's turning his back to us. Signal the others that we're going in."

There was a hand signal through the rear window of the first car, and the two black Opal's moved off and skidded to an abrupt stop in front of the Radio Station. Six figures leapt out and raced up the steps towards the entrance. Herman Beir had no compunction about hitting the guard on the back of the head with the muzzle of his Luger pistol and the old fellow went down hard like a felled tree, but without making a sound.

Willy shrieked and stepped back. He definitely didn't want to be there. The silent majority inside him wanted to be treated like a weak and defenceless woman and sent somewhere pink and cuddly to sniff Sal Volatile. But just at that moment Naujock entered to take command.

"Bring that silly cow upstairs with us; we can't leave her wailing at the door like an air-raid siren."

Leaving three men to round-up any staff still on the ground floor he led the others up the stairs to where he knew the radio studio was situated. Herman and another man followed at his heels sweeping a near hyperventilating Willy along between them.

The surprise was total. In an upstairs room a man was found sitting behind a desk, and Herman pistol-whipped him just as he had done with the guard. The man pitched forward, splashing blood onto the papers he had been studying.

Willy shrieked again but there was no pause in the momentum now. Immediately they dashed into the radio studio where a pale-faced young man pushed his hands in the air at the point of Naujock's gun.

"Switch over to a national transmitter." Naujock told him.

The man swallowed hard, his eyes nearly popping. "I don't know how to do that. I'm only the newsreader. You're friend's just brained the technician who does that kind of thing."

Naujock grunted with ill temper and pushed him against a wall. "Herman, you do it." he snapped out briskly.

Herman Strasser quickly found his way behind the thick glass panel of the transmitting room, confusion showing on his face as he stared at rows of switches. He was clearly unsure of which one would link into the wavelength of the Deutschlandfunk transmitter of Radio Breslau.

"Everything as a different lay-out to what I expected. I can't find it. I can't find the right connection for Breslau." he lamented.

Naujock felt his face drain. After all his careful planning he was going to be let down by an incompetent fool. Failure would bring an end to his career, maybe even an end to his life if certain people were in a nasty enough mood.

"Damn it man, I thought you knew your job. Can we use a local channel?"

"Yes, but on one will hear it beyond the immediate area."

"Do it. A local broadcast is better than no broadcast at all."

"No, I think it's alright. I think I've found Breslau." Herman said, and he immediately began to scream into the microphone. "The city of Danzig is Polish forever. The city of Breslau belongs to the Polish nation. Hitler is an evil gangster…"

Naujock fired a couple of shots from his pistol into the ceiling for effect, which made Willy scream in high-pitched hysterics. That wasn't a problem now. It fitted in exactly with the sound of on-air mayhem Naujock wanted to create at that moment for the listening public.

Herman, already at a high pitch of excitement himself, lost track of his script and began repeating what he'd already said while adding new elements of his own.

"To Hell with the German Reich. The German people are sluts and thieves and we Poles are going to teach you how to behave."

The young radio newsreader had ducked under a table when the shooting started and Naujock told him to stay there.

"That's enough," he shouted to the rest of his group, "Let's get out of here before the local yokels wake up to what's happening."

Together everyone bundled back down the stairs and hurried to the entrance.

Inside the front foyer they needed to step over a figure dressed as a Polish soldier who was sprawled out beside the stunned security guard. Whilst they had been busy elsewhere the Gestapo had delivered their own contribution to the evening – the 'Konserve', a callous codename that referred to tinned meat – but which was really an unfortunate man selected from an internment camp for political dissidents who would remain as evidence of a Polish intrusion. He had been shot through the neck and lay dying.

 

Comparatively few people in Germany heard that brief hate-filled broadcast from the little town of Gleiwitz that night, but the fact it had happened was enough to satisfy Hitler. Within an hour of the raid he had been informed of the encroachment of armed Polish terrorists across the border and of their vicious assault on innocent German civilians. Blandly he had remarked that it was his first good news of the day.

At 10-o-clock the following morning he addressed the German people on the radio from the Kroll Opera House in Berlin, ensuring that what he said could be relayed around the world by overseas transmitters. Using the impassioned, crowd-stirring eloquence for which he was noted, he magnified what was essentially a minor incident of self-inflicted thuggery into a drama of nation-threatening proportions.

Ending his speech on a fiery note he declared… "I have now decided to speak with Poland in the same language they have been using with us. For the first time they have used regular soldiers to shoot at us in our own territory, so since 5.45 this morning we are shooting back."

Things were already in motion. Without any declaration of intent and several hours before his speech on 1 September 1939, German Panzer units had smashed through the Polish frontier posts and the second great war of the twentieth century had begun.

"It will be a quick war." Fraulein Dietz assured everyone at the house later. "Herr Strasser refers to it as a Blitzkrieg – a lightening war. If it continues for more than a few weeks I'll be tempted to suggest to him that Ravenskopf should serve the Reich as a Recuperation Centre for senior military officers. By doing that I'm sure I'd get some help in restoring parts of the building."

"If Fraulein Dietz turns this place into a kind of hotel we're going to be kept very busy." said Rosalyn, when the woman had gone.

"Hope she brings in some more help," responded Loti, ruefully stroking his bum, "There's a limit as to how much a girl should be expected to take."

Willy stood well back from the others, arms clamped across his chest while he thought of Eduard, who would be in the thick of things. There was no stopping love and, having known it he would hold Eduard in his heart forever, no matter what else happened. He thought about how much he himself had changed recently, despite Fraulein Dietz's constant harassment. He had arrived at Ravenskopf as a slightly introvert student and become a rather happy girl. He still looked mostly the same, and he was still a bit of a disaster area when it came to organising himself. But he had changed inside. No regrets about that. No sadness. He had made the decision to take happiness where he found it and hold it for as long as it lasted.

The trauma of the previous evening had shaken him badly, but surviving it had brought on a curious effect. Rather than cowing him it had proved to be a rite of passage that had shocked him into mental maturity, and on a new day he felt strangely confident in his own ability to look after himself.

He believed that entering into any war, however brief, was a tragedy, and the tragedies were not yet over. In the middle of the coming night there would be an inexplicable misfortune when Fraulein Dietz's library together with all her father's irreplaceable notes and the manuscript he had unwillingly laboured over for so long, would all be destroyed by fire.

It was an awful thing to predict, but there was no doubt it would happen. Willy was sure of it, because he'd already taken a box of matches from the kitchen cupboard.

  

  

  

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