Last Time: Rebecca and Easy Company leave Haguenau and head to Mourmelon.
"Know your enemy - and learn about his favorite sport." - Nelson Mandela
Now: When Rebecca and Easy Company arrives in Moumelon, she's given a task that challenges everything she knows to be true.
Chapter 33 - P.O.W.s
The placid clacking of the French railway boxcars chugging through the countryside offered tranquility Rebecca and her comrades hadn't experienced since they returned to Aldbourne after the Normandy invasion. Deemed "40-and-8s" by their ability to hold forty men or eight horses, the boxcars might as well have been a first-class train ride sending Easy Company to some heavenly destination. The idea of returning to Mourmelon for a much-deserved breather quelled Rebecca's anxiety-ridden mind for the first time since they entered the war. For once, she, and no one else was afraid of getting shot at or the possibility of being shelled to bits in a cold foxhole in the Ardennes.
The weather was temperate, sunny, and the "40-and-8s" were knee-deep with straw, allowing the company a soft place to lie back and rest. With plenty of food to go around and the opportunity to unwind as they traveled to Mourmelon, Rebecca felt no qualm as she laid back to take a peaceful nap, not the least bit bothered by the scratchy hay poking her head.
Not an ounce of dread was felt as Easy traveled to their new destination.
Smiling to herself as she laid with her eyes closed Rebecca thought, my God, I must be in heaven.
The shaking of the boxcar made Rebecca feel like she was an infant in their bassinet being lulled to sleep. With all her fellow officers surrounding her and taking part in the serenity, she soundly slept with a full belly and the smell of schnapps dancing in the air.
XXX
As soon as their little slice of heaven was graciously given out to them, it seemed just as quickly snatched away. Unlike Easy's previous reprieve to Mourmelon, they were not going to be staying in the barracks they had reared from German occupancy into a suitable refuge. This time, they would billet in large, green, twelve-men tents approximately a mile outside of Mourmelon.
Gripes were to be heard all around from the men as they were introduced to their new pitiful excuse for barracks. To some, even the blown out buildings they once occupied in Haguenau were a better alternative.
Dick sighed. "We just have to make the best out of it."
Rebecca and Nix stood by their racks, vexed by their new accommodations.
"I heard there's gonna be showers, at least," Nix pointed out.
They would be lukewarm at best and since Rebecca would only get her chance at a shower once all the men had there's, stepping into freezing water wasn't high on her list of priorities. She would much rather wait a few hours for the water to warm back up a bit.
"By the way, Becca," Dick started, looking up from unpacking, "Col. Sink informed me German P.O.W.s being held on-site are going to be working in the 189th General Hospital and helping staff. He wants you to oversee them."
Rebecca snapped her head up to meet Dick's gaze. She felt a swell of anxiety in her stomach grow and cold fear washed over her. It was possible Col. Sink forgot what happened the last time she worked with P.O.W.s, but Rebecca certainly did not.
"What?" she meagerly croaked out.
"Er-, is that really the best idea for Becca, giving what happened the last time?" intervened Nix.
It had seemed like years since the day she was attacked by the German at the crossroads in Holland, but Rebecca explicitly remembered the day she almost had the life choked out of her. There are some things the mind doesn't forget and a close encounter with death was one of them. The nightmares and her arduous recovery were another.
Dick's eyes darted to the floor, he remembered too. "I know, however, these P.O.W.s are all intelligence officers, mapmakers, and translators. Truthfully, there's not a soldier among them."
Trepidation toiled in her mind, but Rebecca knew she couldn't refuse the Colonel anymore. She had been in far more precarious situations before, and dealing with prisoners certainly wasn't one of the more dangerous assignments.
"I have it in good authority that the prisoners behave and work well," said Dick walking over to Rebecca's rack and taking a seat next to her, "the hospital is at max occupancy and staff's hands are tied at the moment. MPs will be there to guard you and them. They just need someone with medical knowledge to assign menial labor before they return to the stockades."
"Okay," resigned Rebecca, "I'll report first thing in the morning."
XXX
The jeep taking Rebecca to the hospital in Mourmelon jostled down the bumpy road for a dreadfully long time. The longer the sluggish jeep traveled, the more time she had to conjure up second thoughts.
Deemed by Easy Company, garrison life was soft and akin to being back home. After spending months on the line, enduring all man and nature had to throw at them, protocol was the last thing on anyone's mind. And although Easy Company had been in Mourmelon for but a short time, some chaos taking the form of drunken disorderly conduct had already ensued.
Be that as it may, the Army wanted to bring discipline and appearance up to rear echelon standards by enforcing fines for behavior not up to snuff. A man found in improper uniform was fined $5, carrying a Luger in one's pocket was $25, speeding in a jeep or truck cost $20, and disorderly conduct was a $25 offense.
So, Rebecca sat in a jeep heading towards the hospital at laughably low speed wanting nothing more than to tuck and roll out the passenger side door.
It wasn't as if she felt incapable of performing the task assigned to her, but it just seemed as if Col. Sink was punishing her for refusing Col. Gold's offer to join the 326th Medical, whether or not he remembered her attack. Hurt pride, she reckoned.
The odds of her getting attacked again by a German P.O.W. in full sight of other hospital staff and MP's was slim to none, but never zero. That's where Rebecca's thoughts circled round and round; what-if scenarios and unchecked anxiety.
As the jeep finally pulled up to the hospital, Rebecca nervously toyed with her mother's cameo necklace and fumbled around looking for her med-pack.
Too occupied with uneasy, she hadn't noticed the long row of German P.O.W.s lined up outside the old French cavalry post's face. All in total, there must have been twenty men, easily. Rebecca's prejudiced notions were immediately put into check just by the overall appearance of the men lined up. They didn't wear the same loathful look as the German who attacked her. Nor did they appear the least bit displeased by the prospect of work laid out before them. More than anything, they looked tired and worn, still wearing the uniforms they were no doubt captured in. However burnt out they seemed, all the German prisoners' uniforms were in tip-top shape, not a button out of place.
"Captain Clark," approached a military police officer, descending from the stairs.
"Lieutenant Philips," guessed Rebecca, offering an outstretched hand to the man. "Major Winters told me you were the person to catch me up to speed."
"Pleasure, ma'am," obliged Philips, shaking her hand. He led Rebecca over to the prisoners and ushered over the German first who stood in the line. "This is Hauptmann Schäfer, the highest rank. He'll be your liaison to the rest of the men," Philips gestured towards the young officer, "His conversational English is the best among them, but they all have a general grasp of the language."
Rebecca was taken aback by how stereotypically handsome Schäfer was. His golden hair peeking out from underneath his uniform cap looked well kept and despite his current station in life. Schäfer's chiseled, pale face was offset by blue-gray eyes.
The features he possessed denoted the epitome of the Aryan race. He was almost a cookie-cutter example of the master race and could make Adolf Hitler himself swoon.
"Fraulein," spoke Schäfer, "it is my pleasure."
Rebecca jostled herself from her astute analysis of the Adonis before her. She sternly reminded herself the man was a Nazi, the enemy. He represented the Nazi regime and all the ideals entailed Easy Company and the rest of the Allies were fighting over in the first place.
"You will address her as captain or ma'am. Is that understood," Philips snapped at Schäfer.
Schäfer's eyes darted to the ground as his demeanor wilted under Philips's scrutiny. Heaven knows Rebecca had never been a hardass about formalities, but she found herself inwardly smirking at Philips's jab at Schäfer. After all, she and Easy Company had to put up with during their duration in the war, the Nazi before her could certainly handle a bit of taunting.
"Forgive me, Captain," Schäfer apologized.
XXX
Lieutenant Philips guided Rebecca and the P.O.W.s inside the hospital and to the storage facility where they would work.
The old French cavalry post which stood proud since the time of Napoleon withstood decades of war and enemy occupation but now found a new purpose as a hospital for wounded allies and enemies alike. Its once militant appearance had been scrubbed away. Rooms that once served as a refuge for soldiers were occupied by beds for the wounded. Large and secluded rooms were sterilized for operations and storage for medical supplies. Despite its remodel, echoes of the past shown through the pieces of old French artwork that lined the halls. Tales of victorious battles fought by the cavalry were told through intricate paintings in remembrance of France's glorious past.
All the P.O.W.s and Rebecca were led to a large supply room in much need of an organization. "This is where you'll be for the day," Philips began, handing Rebecca a clipboard. "Tell Schäfer what tasks you want his men to do. When you're done, sign off at the bottom of the sheet, hand it to one of the MP's, and you should be all set for the day."
Rebecca couldn't believe only a short time ago she was freezing to death in the Ardennes and now she was stuck with a bunch of krauts doing menial labor.
XXX
Rumor had it, the hospital staff wasn't too fond of taking care of enemy patients, but articles in the Geneva Convention made it so. It also meant P.O.W.s were permitted to work in addition to any other manual labor they were given in the stockades. Any gripes or spite the doctors or nurses shared were kept to themselves.
Rebecca stood leaned up against a desk, her eyes darting back and forth between her clipboard and the men performing the tasks. Written on the papers were various P.O.W. names with tasks assigned to each of them. It was busy work at best, but it had to get done one way or another and to a prisoner of war, it was better than rotting in a cell all day.
The P.O.W.s at the very least got to occupy themselves with something. Rebecca on the other hand was bored out of her wits. All she was expected to do was supervise her workers and ensure they were completing their tasks.
Helping her, Schäfer stood amongst his men, walking down the rows of shelves inspecting his men's work. He walked down one of the aisles containing various supplies and started walking towards Rebecca. Sensing this, she darted her head back down the clipboard in her hands. She was utterly embarrassed by how timid she was around Schäfer. Perhaps it was his handsome good looks or the fact he was a Nazi, and who knew what was toiling around in his mind?
"Captain," began Schäfer, "May I ask you something?"
Glancing up from the clipboard she was using to hide behind, her heart skipped a beat. Even speaking in clear English, his thick German accent still sent chills rippling through her. It was ridiculous. There was no underlying resentment in his tone, nor anger, yet Schäfer's voice still reminded Rebecca of the Nazi voices she heard while on the battlefield.
"Yes," Rebecca responded, nervously clearing her throat.
"You do not dress like the other staff here, yet I was told you were a nurse," Schäfer began, "Do you belong to another medical company?" he inquired.
Somewhat stunned by his attention to detail, she thought for a moment. Should I go into such detail with a P.O.W.? Intelligence always warned about jibber-jabbering too much with prisoners.
"U-ugh," was all she could manage to respond with as her mind still mulled divulging such information to him. Schäfer must have noticed the apprehension in Rebecca's and began backing down.
"Please, do not feel it's necessary to share. I was just curious."
Embarrassed, Rebecca quickly felt it was silly for her to be so tight-lipped regarding such simple details about her. "No, it's quite alright, I just have a habit of oversharing with people I just met," she smiled, swatting away the notion that she was afraid of divulging too much information with a Nazi. "I'm a combat nurse with the Airborne. It's a new initiative the U.S. military began to give aid to combatants wounded in the line of duty." There, that wasn't so hard, Rebecca chided to herself.
What surprised her however was Schäfer's response back. "I've never heard of such a thing. I didn't think the United States would allow their women to take on such a dangerous role!" he marveled, "I knew of the Russian female snipers, but not of this."
Semi agitated by Schäfer's reaction, Rebecca crossed her arms in defiance, remembering how difficult it was to earn and keep her place in Easy Company, how challenging it was physically, mentally, and emotionally. It felt like she was suddenly back on trial again, trying to prove her worth to Schäfer. "Well, it was no small task. I had to work my tail off to get where I am today," snapped Rebecca.
The change in the tone of her voice was evident to Schäfer who quickly began to make clear his feelings. "I meant no offense, Captain. I think it is remarkable you took on such a heavy burden for your country."
"I apologize," Rebecca backtracked, "it just seemed like you were going to give me the typical treatment I received when I first started training," her eyes darted to the floor, "no one treated me like I was remarkable. It was quite the opposite. I was ostracized."
Schäfer pondered for a moment, "I'm certain it is not that way now, correct? I'm sure you've proven yourself to be a valuable asset to your men."
Rebecca wasn't convinced she could consider herself valuable. I'm sure Easy could get along without me. "I'm not sure if valuable is the right word but I know the men in my company have come to trust me and I couldn't ask for anything better."
One thing was clear, though, Rebecca knew to Dick, she was valued. She couldn't imagine what her life would be like right now if she hadn't met him. Dick was the only one who truly saw her, all her vulnerabilities and fears. He saw Rebecca at her worst, her best, and everything in between.
"Trust is key amongst soldiers and it is not something easily gained. You should take pride to have earned such a special bond with your men."
Proud she was. It felt like a lifetime ago she was at Toccoa having to prove her worth to not only the likes of Sobel but also to everyone else in the company. At one point or another, they all wanted to see her fail for varying reasons. To a good majority of men, women didn't belong in the military at all, let alone in combat.
"You are far braver than I ever could dream to be. I didn't want to even join the army at all." Schäfer confessed, rubbing the back of his neck.
This piqued Rebecca's interest. She had heard all young men in Nazi Germany were eager to join the glorious fight for their country and their Führer. "Really?" The average American was told the people of Germany were all willing to lay down their lives and proud to do so.
"I went to school and earned a degree in creative writing and foreign language. It was my passion until recruitment for the Wehrmacht became Germany's priority." Schäfer's face showed a glimmer of sadness as he spoke. "Because I graduated college I was able to get a more agreeable job as an officer in intelligence translating and such."
"I'm assuming you left loved ones behind as well?" Rebecca inquired. She wanted to know more. It was fascinating to her for some reason. Getting to know the enemy was a foreign concept to her. All she was ever concerned with was the safety and wellbeing of Easy Company.
"Yes, my wife Gisela. We met while I was in school. She was a librarian on campus. Now, she's expecting our first child!" Joy spread across Schäfer's face at the mention of his family. "I'm hoping for a little girl, Gisela wants a boy but I'm praying for health more than anything."
"Congratulations, Schäfer! I can tell you're over the moon."
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small picture showing it to Rebecca. A curvy woman with dark curly hair, round cheeks, and a jovial look on her face smiled at Rebecca. "This is my Gisela. We just found out she was pregnant so we went to the pier in Heringsdorf to have her picture taken. We wanted to commemorate the moment."
Touched, Rebecca looked over the picture and back at Schäfer. "You two are going to have a beautiful child."
"Many thanks, Captain Clark."
Rebecca offered Schäfer her hand. "Please, call me Becca."
"Erwin," Schäfer said, accepting Rebecca's hand to shake.
XXX
Time seemed to move much quicker than it did before as Erwin and Rebecca continued talking about their home lives. She spoke of her time before joining the army and her nursing career, Erwin mentioned the short stories he liked to write in his free time outside of his job as a typist. He also mentioned what he was going to do once the war ended and how he couldn't wait to see Gisela and finish the nursery. Before either of them realized it, the work was done and it was time for Rebecca to go back to the barracks.
"It was a pleasure making your acquaintance, Becca," Erwin said, shaking Rebecca's hand as she sat in the jeep.
"Likewise," she smiled, enthusiastically shaking his hand back.
Reaching into his pocket once more, Erwin pulled a letter out. "Before I forget, would you mind mailing this letter for me? We're allowed to write letters home, but it's been entirely backed up as of late," he asked, handing the letter to Rebecca.
She took the envelope in her hand and gently put it in her bag, treating it with the gentleness of a newborn. "It's for Gisela. I just wanted her to know I'm safe." Rebecca was honored to take on such a task and planned to take the letter to Vest as soon as she got back to the barracks.
"Of course, I'll do it right away," she placed a gentle hand on his, "take care of yourself, Erwin."
"Ma'am, are you ready to go back?" the driver hinted, probably annoyed at how long her goodbye was taking.
"Goodbye, Erwin," she smiled again, "Yes, Private, I'm ready."
"Goodbye, Becca."
The jeep sped off down the road back to the barracks, leaving Erwin behind, who Rebecca hoped she would be able to see again. Never did she imagine this nuisance of a chore would lead her to be acquainted with a P.O.W. Now, she understood more about the Germans than she could have in any briefing or on any battlefield after meeting Erwin.
A/N: Oh my, it's been a while. I'm not gonna make excuses, yes, I've been busy, but in the amount of time I spent playing Knights of the Old Republic II, I could've finished this series by now. I'm super happy with this chapter, however. It was nice to be able to create something from my own brain and not have to check and double-check all of the information I include about Easy is historically accurate. I'm hoping to finish this series soon. It has been almost three years since I first started uploading this series, after all (yikes). Anywho, I hoped you all enjoyed this latest chapter! If you did, please leave me a comment, they mean more to me than you know! See ya soon. :3