Chapter 9: Kurt and Fritz


Joy and Sorrow rode to the train station in a car with a silent driver. Astrus paid the man and bade them a hasty farewell – for show. He had already given them their money, tickets, and suitcases.

"And I will see you in Berlin," he had said before they left the house, "after the mission."

"How are we to make contact?" Joy had asked.

"Worry not. I will make contact with you when it's time."

The train was mostly empty, and Sorrow sat silently, staring past Joy to the rain starting to collect on the window. It was getting dark, and he wondered if the rain would stop before the others arrived in Marquise.

Joy had her cheek pressed against the window, but her eyes were open. They stared dully at the back of the seat in front.

"Joy," he said. "What is going on here? You have not told us what we are doing in Germany. These uniforms. These pa –"

"We're not talking about that," she said without taking her cheek away from the window.

For a few minutes, Sorrow watched the raindrops gather. When a drop hit the glass, it spread into several tiny drops like an airborne unit landing in a field. The little watery paratroopers ran toward each other, gathering into huddles and then separating.

Joy did not move except to lean back further in her seat. There was hardly a sound in their car. The train clacked over the tracks, and muffled conversations drifted between the seats. No heartbeat but his own.

"Who is Astrus?" he asked.

The Joy was startled from her thoughts.

"Sorrow, please," she said. She did not look at him.

"Honestly. We know nothing about this man."

"That doesn't concern you."

"It does."

Joy turned to him, eyes fierce and nostrils flared.

"I told you that it doesn't concern you. It does not concern you."

She turned away again and laid her head softly against the window. Sorrow had been quiet most of his life, avoiding conflict, keeping questions to himself, but he felt weak next to the Cobras. Joy told him that she needed him, but Sorrow knew it was merely his power she needed. She did not think of him as a soldier. Joy treated him differently, always protecting him, keeping him off the battlefield. He remembered the night before, her rough hands wrapping a blanket around his shoulders. It wasn't that he was special compared to the others. She must think of him as fragile, like a child she had to carry on her hip.

He watched her face in profile, her blue-gray eyes staring at the dark shapes flashing past outside the train. If he did not assert himself now, while they were alone, he might not get a chance to tell her about Astrus.

What's the worst that can happen? he thought again as he had the night before during the jump. Death was preferable to losing the respect of his commander… but did she even respect him now?

"Sir," he began, but he stopped.

"What do you need?" Joy asked, obviously perturbed.

He decided, against all good judgment, that the best way to get her attention was the subject she hated most.

"That woman…," he began again.

"My mother," she said.

"Is she?" the Sorrow asked in surprise, not at the fact that the woman was Joy's mother but at the fact that Joy had answered.

Joy smiled at him.

"You weren't expecting me to be willing to talk about it," she said.

He shook his head.

"Well I didn't expect you to do that mind thing last night, so we're even now."

Her voice was low and reedy like an oboe, and Sorrow wanted to keep her talking.

"Tell me about her," he said.

"That's enough about my mother. She was a vain and self-centered woman. If she heard us talking about her now, she would be pretty pleased with herself."

A door opened and closed behind them.

"It's a sundries cart," Sorrow said.

"We're newlyweds on our way back to the front," she whispered. "It's time we act the part."

She took his hand lightly in hers, and when the woman rolled the cart by, Joy looked up at her with an innocent smile.

"Cigarettes, liquor, snacks?" the woman asked politely, her eyes taking in their uniforms.

Joy continued to smile at the woman but did not speak. She nudged Sorrow as stealthily as she could.

"N-no. No thanks," Sorrow stammered.

The woman moved on, and Joy fell back in her seat, laughing silently.

She straightened her hat which had fallen over one eye and said, "I have a lot to learn about being a woman, and you have a lot to learn about being a man."


The Fear and the Fury left on a midnight train that night. Theirs was a military vacation train packed tightly with soldiers already. As the two men shoved into a car, the other soldiers squeezed closer together to let the Fury in his Gestapo uniform and his bizarre-looking companion pass down the aisle. Two soldiers stood briskly to offer their seats. Fury moved to sit, but Fear stayed where he was.

"It's fine, gentlemen. Keep your seats," he said.

The soldiers looked at the Fury who paused for a moment before saying, "What he said. Keep your seats."

He and the Fear edged to the back of the car.

"Hell, Fear… er… Fredrich," Fury said. "I'm a goddamned Gestapo. They'll do whatever I say. We should be taking advantage of that."

"They were just soldiers…"

"'Just soldiers'? They'll remember me for sure now. A Gestapo who takes a seat is just a Gestapo. It's what they expect. This isn't normal, and they will remember."

The two Cobras were quiet for a while as they watched the other standing soldiers struggle to hold on when the train bounced. At the next station, a few men left, and everyone shifted forward. A young woman with light brown hair pushed through, using her round white suitcase as a shield. She was not in uniform. Instead, she wore a conservative dress the color of robin's eggs and tiny gold spectacles on a beaded chain that were now sliding down her nose. Fear assumed she was not much older than the Joy, and she seemed to be traveling alone. A soldier got up to give her his seat as the SS men had done for Fury and Fear. She gave the brawny blond soldier a shy smile and nod before sitting.

"You think that seat was free, lady?" the soldier growled, leaning over her.

"You did offer it to me," she answered boldly. Her voice was quiet and lilting, but it cut through the noisy car.

"Oooh, talking back to an officer!"

A few other men laughed, but most turned their backs, afraid to get involved.

"Hey, fräulein, all I want is a kiss. I've got a wife at home, and she's damned prettier than you."

The woman ignored him and glanced around the car. The boorish officer lifted her skirt a few inches while she was looking away.

"Check out the gams on that doll!" the Fury whispered.

The Fear nodded without listening. The woman swatted the officer's hand away, and as she did, she caught the Fury's eye. Then she smiled and waved as if she knew him. The officer turned and, seeing the Fury's uniform, moved aside for the woman. She ran to the Fury and threw her arms around him.

"You smell like cigarettes," she whispered. "What's your name?"

"Konrad," he answered.

"Oh, Kurt!" she cried, burying her face in his shoulder. The Fury settled into his role and patted her head, showing more sensitivity than he probably had in his entire life.

"I'm glad to see you again," he said.

"Oh, mother will be so pleased when I tell her that her only son is safe!" she cried, and then she added in a whisper, "So don't try anything."

Once the soldiers lost interest in the woman they thought was a Gestapo officer's sister, she, the Fear, and the Fury sat cross-legged in the aisle. They talked about the rain and the heat and the places Fear and Fury supposedly visited while on leave. At the next station, she asked where they were headed.

"Saint-Quentin," answered Fury.

"I am too!" she cried, giving him a quick hug. "My name is Sabine," she added in a whisper.

She fell asleep on his shoulder a short time later.

"She's a treat, isn't she?" Fury asked.

The Fear shrugged.

"I always knew you only had eyes for the boss," Fury muttered as he laid his head back and closed his eyes.


In Saint-Quentin, Sabine took the Fury's hand as they left the train. They looked just similar enough to pass as siblings. Fury's hair was the same light brown, like dead grass. Her face was rounder than his, but they both had molasses-colored eyes.

Sabine led him away from the throng, and Fear followed. Once they were far down the platform from the soldiers entering and exiting the trains, her face became serious, and she looked Fury directly in the eyes.

"Thank you for your kindness," she said, and when she let his hand go, she left a small wad of bills. Fury opened his hand to look at them, but she closed it gently with her own.

"You aren't really Gestapo," she said; then she looked at the Fear. "And you aren't really Luftwaffe. I doubt you're German at all."

"What the hell would make you think that?" Fury asked, kinder than usual.

"You are very bad spies," she laughed.

The Fear's eyes widened, and the Fury's eyes narrowed.

"Oh give it up, boys! Kurt, you're much too sweet."

"The hell I am!"

"You are. And Fritz here," she said, pointing at the Fear, "is never going to pass. When does your train leave?"

She pushed her glasses up her nose.

The Fury started to answer, but the Fear grabbed his arm.

"Excuse us for a moment," the Fear said.

"Of course," Sabine said in perfect English.

When they were just out of earshot, Fury snapped, "Way to be subtle, Fritz."

"You're the one who helped her."

"I couldn't just let a beautiful woman… Hey! She forced herself on me. That bitch!"

"Calm down, Fury."

"You don't tell me to sodding calm down, you filthy g –"

"Let's just… stop drawing as much attention to ourselves. We were so obvious that this woman caught on. How many people could be watching us right now?"

"Think she's a spy, then?"

"I'm certain. Probably SOE. She has a lot of confidence and an amount of –"

"And legs. Wonder why she covers them," the Fury said, watching her several yards away bouncing on the balls of her feet. She was watching the trains.

"I know your interest in her, but what's her interest in us?"

"I say we trust her. She's already onto us, and if she is SOE, she may need our help."

"I honestly don't think she needs anyone's help," Fear muttered, but the Fury had already wandered back to Sabine.

"Is the Gentleman's Club meeting over?" she asked with a winning smile.

"We're going to have to catch our train," said Fear, brushing past her and grabbing for Fury's wrist.

"You're not staying in Saint-Quentin?" she asked slyly. "As a matter of fact, I'm not either. I'm going on to Krakow."

"Stuttgart," said the Fury.

Fear hissed at him, his tongue vibrating hideously.

"Dear GOD!" Sabine gasped, raising a hand to her mouth as if she were about to vomit. "We really are going to have to do something about you before someone gets suspicious!"
"Why would we listen to what some woman we just met has to say?" Fear asked. He heard the announcement that their train was ready to board. They had to hurry and get away from this woman.

"Because you two won't make it far without me."


Historical Notes:

For story purposes, I've chosen the Hollywood version of Gestapo. The iconic black uniforms were worn pre-1940 and hardly ever in public places like trains. I chose this version simply because we're pretty familiar with the "Show me your papers" Gestapo stereotype, and it gave me a chance to do some stuff with the story I couldn't if he wore a simple SS gray or green uniform. Please excuse my various historical inaccuracies.

Kurt is a German nickname for Konrad. Fritz is a nickname for Fredrich and its many variations.

Saint-Quentin is a town in France. Krakow is in Poland. Stuttgart is in Germany.