Chapter 31: In the belly of the beast
Georg reflected ironically that he must have done something dreadful in his past to be in this situation: sitting in train with Zeller, as it hurtled its way into the belly of the beast – into the Third Reich.
Only two days ago he had waved goodbye to Maria and the children, feeling as if his heart had been ripped out. But even through the grief, he was immensely grateful they were safe. Every day of whatever was left of his life he would give thanks for that, on his knees if necessary. He wouldn't allow himself to think about whether he would ever see them again however, because he knew he would probably fall into a black pit of despair and loss. Instead he resolved to use the memories of their time together to give him the strength to get through each day.
The profound relief that his family was safe left him free to set his own plans into motion. The plans, developed with General Towarek, were simple enough. They had first discussed them weeks ago at the ball where Maria had sung in public. As a patriotic Austrian, the General had been in despair over the pitiful state of Austria's defenses. Knowing that resistance by Austrian armed forces would result in widespread bloodshed of Austrian troops, the General had asked Georg's help to gather any scrap of intelligence about the Third Reich.
The two of them had come up with a plan for Georg to make a brief journey into Germany to find out anything that could help shore up Austria's flimsy defenses. It required that Georg pretend to change sides, and to seek a commission with the Kreigsmarine – the naval forces of the Third Reich. Even if the Kreigsmarine were unlikely to be used in the Anschluss given that Austria was a land-locked country, any intelligence would be useful.
Ideally, Georg would be back in Austria before the Anschluss. It would be a short, straightforward mission, at least in theory. Nevertheless, it would require all his skills of stealth and cunning, not to mention the nerves of steel, and his instincts to rapidly assess risk and danger, which had been so finely honed during the Great War.
It was a deadly gamble, and if it failed, death would be the merciful option. Georg had no illusions about what the Nazis would do to him if they realized he was deceiving them. It was a calculated risk, but knowing how ill-prepared Austria's military was to face the Wehrmacht - the German army - he did not feel he could refuse the mission from the General. Not when it could potentially save the lives of countless Austrian soldiers.
So far the plan had worked. Zeller had fallen for Georg's apparent grudging conversion to the Nazi cause, and had guaranteed safe passage for Maria and the children to leave Austria on a holiday. Then he had triumphantly arranged a meeting for Georg in Bremerhaven.
Georg recalled his absurd conversation with General Towarek over the telephone, taking advantage of the fact that the telephone lines were not secure.
Georg heard the faintest click and the dead air indicating that someone was listening on the line.
"General, I must inform you, that after a great deal of soul-searching I have decided to join the naval forces of the Third Reich."
There was a long silence, so Georg spoke again. "General did you hear-"
"I heard Captain," the reply came curtly as if the General were speaking through clenched teeth. "I simply cannot believe you would take such a deplorable action. You will be a disgrace to the Imperial Navy and the vows you took. You realize this is treason against Austria? The penalty is death. I must implore you to reconsider before it's too late."
"I cannot, sir. I must do what is best for my family. They will be returning soon and I must do everything I can to secure a decent future for them. It was not an easy decision. But with the Anschluss imminent I have come to realise that Austria's future is best served by joining the Third Reich. May I suggest General, that you also consider joining the cause-"
But General Towarek had hung up in rage and disgust at Georg's treachery. Georg would have chuckled at their acting skills, if it had not been such a lethal game they were playing.
So now here he was sitting in a carriage with Zeller. Although he had never suffered from claustrophobia before - despite spending the last war in a U-boat - the close proximity with the obnoxious Zeller felt suffocating. Zeller couldn't disguise his boastful gloating at having converted Georg to Nazism.
"I'm so glad that you agreed to this informal meeting in Bremerhaven, Captain. The fact that you came to our cause before the Anschluss can only be in your favour. You can negotiate an excellent rank in your service to the Fatherland."
"As much as it pains me to admit it, Herr Zeller, you were right. My best options are to offer my service to the Reich. But I must insist on returning as soon as possible before the Anschluss to welcome my family back. I want no word of my conversion to the Nazi cause to be made public until the Anschluss, when I will be part of the ceremonies to usher in the new order."
"Of course Captain. Your public embracing of the Third Reich will help any dissenters in the armed forces make the same wise decision. And it is only fitting that you should be back in Austria to witness this momentous event. I also intend to return. After I escort you to the Kriegsmarine headquarters I'll take a short detour to Berlin before returning to Austria shortly..
He laughed scathingly. "Time is running out for that imbecile von Schuschnigg. I have been told he has been begging for help from Britain, France and Italy to stop the Anschluss. They have wisely turned the fool down. His days are numbered. He will be flung on the rubbish-heap of history soon enough."
Georg carefully disguised his thoughts at Zeller's jeering, though he felt sickened. It was true that time was running out for Austria, but whether the Chancellor would order a full scale resistance was not so apparent.
The train rumbled to a halt before leaving Austrian territory. Border guards entered to check their papers. There was much joking as Zeller presented their patently fake documents.
"We're visiting the Third Reich to see an elderly aunt of mine in Bremerhaven," Zeller informed the guards with a swaggeringly obvious deceit that made them all laugh.
"Give my regards to your 'aunt' sir," one of the guards smirked. Zeller clapped him on the back, jovially.
Georg pretend to smile too, hiding his outrage that the border guards seemed to have changed sides already, allowing them unhindered passage into the Third Reich. But at least he had first-hand evidence of how porous the borders were.
He tempered his fury though. If he had any hopes of making this work he needed to immerse himself in his new role. No doubt he would be subject to intense interrogation in Bremerhaven about his apparent change of heart. It would be a fatal mistake to think the Nazis would just naively accept his conversion in the same way that Zeller had.
"Look Captain," Zeller could not contain his exultation as the train entered Germany. Panzer tank divisions could be seen amassed on the other side, ready for orders. Nazi soldiers wandered among the hundreds of parked tanks in a carnival atmosphere, smoking, laughing, playing cards.
Shockingly, there even seemed to be fraternizing between the Austrian soldiers guarding the border and the Germans. If Georg had been their commanding officer he would have court-martialed the lot of them.
"It is only a matter of time now before our liberators will enter Austria" Zeller crowed. Then, as if he were a tour guide from hell he kept up a constant rapturous narrative.
"Look at the new autobahns Captain," he pointed out the gleaming highways, snaking their way through the country side. "And do you see all the Volkswagen vehicles?" He gestured to the oddly shaped beetle-like vehicles. "The Fuhrer in his generosity has made cars affordable for all Reich citizens."
Georg made appropriate noises that conveyed he was indeed impressed. He gazed out the window. Every village and town they passed was emblazoned with the blood-red flags with the sinister black swastika. He had no doubt that this was a country under the jackboot of fascism. Five years of totalitarianism and constant brainwashing propaganda would have stripped its people of the freedom to think and speak and do as they pleased.
All the newsreel pictures he had seen of the mass rallies had revealed a population whipped into a frenzy of hysterical adulation for their leaders. Georg thought for a moment of Germany's Jewish citizens deprived of all their rights to attend school, university, to have jobs and professions and property. But realizing that his emotions were at boiling point after hours of feigning wonder and amazement, he needed to calm himself.
He pretended to sleep. Like a miser bringing out his horde of gold to polish and cherish, he allowed some sweet memories of Maria and the children to soothe his spirits. His wife had the gift of warmth, empathy and generosity that could touch even the most difficult of people. One incident that occurred only two weeks ago, made him smile inwardly.
After their return from their short honeymoon Maria had been worried about her new role as the lady of the house, having to oversee all the staff. But she passed her first test with flying colours when she had to step in to calm a long-standing dispute between Georg's temperamental French chef Claude and one of the villa's Italian gardeners who supplied fresh vegetables for the kitchen. Their simmering dislike would sometimes boil over into heated arguments, and the air would be thick with personal slurs and national insults.
"What the devil is going on?" Georg demanded of Franz, irritated at the noise of saucepans banging and the shouting he could hear from the kitchen. The commotion could be heard from the drawing room where he was having an aperitif with Maria.
"I believe Claude and Giovanni are having one of their quarrels. If you will allow me to intervene sir, I am sure I can sort it out."
"No, no." Georg knew that Franz's icy contempt for both of them would only make things worse. He dismissed Franz and turned to Maria, resting his cheek against her hair.
"Maria, darling, do you think you could talk to them?" he asked hopefully, knowing he would only lose his temper if he tried to intervene.
"Me?" she squeaked, full of nerves. "But I don't know a thing about…"
"My love, you could talk Lucifer himself into good behaviour. I have every confidence in you. Look how you tamed my wayward children within hours of meeting them. Not to mention melting the iceberg heart of their father."
So Maria had waded into the dispute. Georg had no idea what she said to each of them, but she was gone for a very long time. The results of her diplomacy were that both Claude and Giovanni now tried to outdo each other in their adulation for the new Baroness.
Giovanni would cut prize-winning roses from the garden to present to her each morning. As if he were a smitten suitor he would kiss her hand and compliment her with extravagant flowery words. The way he kept overstepping his bounds with his Italian charm annoyed the hell out of Georg.
Worse, Claude had wheedled information out of Maria about her favourite foods, and so Georg found himself staring at a mound of unappetizing green sludge on his plate for three days in a row, even though Claude knew he damn well hated spinach. He could see the children grimacing too. Franz summoned Claude for an explanation.
"Baroness von Trapp adores spinach," Claude declared haughtily and left, as if that settled the matter. The next day a pungent smelling liver dish was served.
"Oh dear," Maria said remorsefully as her new family looked pleadingly at her. "I had no idea he would make these things when he asked me. And I'm afraid he might not have realized I was joking when I said I like beef tongue."
"Oh dear God!"
"Motherrrrr!"
"I'd rather eat grass!"
"I feel sick."
To the groans of horror from the whole family, she hastily went to speak to Claude to persuade him that her favourite things included schnitzel with noodles, Tafelspitz, and she simply couldn't wait to try French cuisine.
Remembering the incident made Georg's heart ache with love and a deep sense of loss. He missed her with every fiber of his being. He could only hope they would be given a long life together and not the paltry few weeks they had had.
Bringing forth memories was like blowing on embers to warm his chilled heart. He sifted through some more incidents, each one a source of comfort and sometimes amusement for him: Maria with her eyes full of cheeky mischief when she had first met him and tricked him with her fake dialect; Maria singing with a soaring, entrancing lyricism that suffused his whole being with pleasure; Maria, being as ferocious as a lioness defending her young when she had fought with him over his decision to send the older girls away to Finishing school.
All of those would be treasured moments he could dwell on another time. Instead he picked an incident from a more recent time. While they had had only two weeks together after their honeymoon, it was filled with family time.
A week after their return from their honeymoon, they realized that the whole family would have to curtail their public outings after Maria was recognized by a group of fellow visitors to Mozarthaus.
A little boy in lederhosen pointed to her. "Look Mama, there's the lady from the newspaper."
Startled, Maria blushed hotly as all of sudden everyone was looking at her.
"Why it's Fraulein Rainer! She won the Festival," a woman trilled.
Someone else said, "I listened to her on the wireless. She sings like an angel."
Before she knew it, Maria was surrounded by an eager group, anxious to congratulate her, and pleading with her to sing for them. From another room, Georg came over to see what all the fuss was about.
"Oh no, I couldn't possible sing anything in Mozart's birthplace," she protested, as if it would be a desecration.
As much as Georg disliked the fact that his wife was a public figure, he couldn't help but be charmed by how sweetly flustered she was. She had flushed bright pink as she thanked the people for their kind words. Her natural warmth just seemed to draw people to her. What made it even more compelling was she was unaware of her own inner radiance and the way it touched people.
Unable to escape all the earnest pleas Maria gave in and sang a line from 'I could have danced all night.'
"I could have spread my wings and done a thousand things
I've never done before"
It was greeted with cheers and clapping. The children were giggling as their mother signed some autographs. She was so unsettled she made a mess of her signature.
"Mother, your name is von Trapp now, not Rainer," Marta whispered, clutching Maria's skirt proudly at all the attention her mother was receiving from complete strangers.
"Ehrm… oh yes," she mumbled. She tried again and made an illegible scrawl. Acutely embarrassed, she telegraphed a plea with her eyes to be rescued by Georg, who was observing the commotion with bemusement, leaning against a doorway with his arms folded.
The crowd grew even more excited at the news of her name change, showering her and the children with eager questions. Georg came forward and gallantly kissed her hand, adroitly drawing the attention away from Maria.
"It's true ladies and gentleman, her name has changed. I am the man lucky enough to be the husband of Austria's 'Blossom of Snow.'" He nearly rolled his eyes at the name Max had invented to promote her.
There were exclamations of delight over her beautiful new family. Aware that the scene was turning into a noisy spectacle, Georg politely but firmly extricated them. "I'm afraid we really must leave you now." He shuffled his family out the door.
He couldn't resist teasing Maria as he helped her into the car. "Tsk Tsk Tsk," shaking his head he tutted his tongue with tender mockery. "It seems the Sisters at the Abbey were right – trouble seems to follow you everywhere." Chuckling at her indignant, flustered look, he stole a kiss before shutting the car door.
Although Georg and Maria were horribly discomforted by the public attention, the children were excited, chatting about how famous she was all the way back to the villa. From then on though, they stayed home for their remaining few days.
Immersed in the pleasure of the tender reminisces Georg drifted off to sleep. He awoke once to see the unappealing sight of Zeller snoring with his mouth open. Urgh! He shuddered as if he had just been offered pink lemonade without alcohol. Not wanting to have that unsightly vision in his head he went back to sleep, lulled by the rhythmic swaying of the train.
ooooOOOOoooo
When they arrived they were taken in an official car to navy headquarters.
Georg firmly closed off thoughts of Maria and the children. He would need all his powers of concentration and detachment to manage this situation, because the Kriegsmarine would use whatever means, subtle or otherwise, to test his story.
"Commandant Schmidt, may I present Captain Ritter von Trapp, former commander of the U6 of the Imperial Austrian Navy, and Austria's most highly decorated naval officer. He has expressed an interest to join our cause." Zeller was as smugly victorious as a hunter displaying a trophy of his kill.
Georg saluted with his hand to his forehead as the men in the room gave the Heil Hitler greeting.
"You will need to show your respect to the Fuhrer, Captain, if you wish to join us," Schmidt informed him coldly.
Georg hastily rectified his mistake. "I apologise Commandant Schmidt, I am still getting used to the new order." He put his arm out in the pose, speaking the salute with apparent fervour.
The Commandant thawed somewhat. "We have heard a great deal about you Captain. I understand that until recently you were a rather discourteous opponent of the Third Reich. What changed your mind?"
Georg had rehearsed his story over and over, day and night, in an endless litany that he hoped would carry him through any interrogation. He kept his explanation simple.
"I realized that I must do what is best for my country and my family, Commandant. Like many of my fellow Austrians I can now see the advantages of joining the Reich. I regret it took me so long to make the realization."
"I see. Well better late than never," the Commandant said amiably, though Georg was not fooled by the friendliness.
He continued, "It is indeed an exciting time with Austria soon to join us in the glory of the Reich. We shall enjoy getting to you know over the next few days Captain, before you return to Austria. I understand you wish to be sworn in at a public ceremony to celebrate the Anschluss in Vienna?"
"Yes sir."
The Commandant's eyes remained unreadable.
Over the next several hours the discussion continued, with Georg sticking to his explanation whenever the questions were repeated at unexpected intervals. He was not foolish enough to ask too many of his own questions about the Kriegsmarine, but was aware whenever information was given that he could file away in his mind. For instance he learned about officer training requirements and the number of men required to crew the new U-boats. Fortuitously, a junior officer got carried away by his description of the new fleet of warships before he was cut off abruptly by the Commandant.
By nightfall Georg was tired, hungry, thirsty, and badly in need of a shower, but he did not falter as he was tested in various military strategies. Perhaps the Commandant read his mind.
"I must apologize for being a poor host, Captain. Let's take you to your hotel and then you must join us for a drink."
He paused, as if dangling a juicy carrot in front of Georg. "If you are accepted into our ranks, Captain, I see no reason why you should not be promoted to the rank of Fregattenkapitän, which would entitle you to be called Commander."
He led Georg through the rabbit-warren of passageways to the uniforms room.
"See that our Captain is outfitted as a Fregattenkapitän," he ordered the warrant officers.
To Georg he said, "You may try out the uniform this evening. It will give you a sense of the prestige of such a rank."
"You do me a great honour, Commandant."
"You haven't been appointed yet Captain, but there's no harm in allowing you to have a taste of your potential role."
ooooOOOOoooo
Checked into his hotel, Georg tried on the uniform and stared in the mirror at the ominous looking stranger reflected there. Gone was the man he was, and in his place was a powerful figure of fear, hate and intimidation. The hat, emblazoned with the eagle and swastika, shadowed his face. It was a uniform that could make a man lose his soul and all sense of decency and humanity. He felt his blood run cold. If this was supposed to tempt him it had the opposite effect.
He allowed himself a light-hearted moment as he imagined telling Maria that she could now call him Commander. He chuckled at his reflection, which seemed at odds with his menacing appearance. Undoubtedly Maria would look at him with the adorable cheeky insolence that she had, when they first met and he had demanded she use his title. He recalled her deliberate wide-eyed innocence as she gazed back at him with a gentle mockery that had made him feel he was being pompous and utterly uptight.
He opened the balcony doors. Directly west, across the North Sea, lay England and his beloved family. He pictured Maria with the children cossetted together in the drawing room of the Whitehead mansion. It gave him enormous comfort. But again, he locked the thoughts of her away. Intense emotions could lead to poor judgement and deadly mistakes.
Looking down he could see the twinkling lights of the rain-washed streets below. Although it was too dark to see the North Sea, he could smell the familiar, invigorating tang of salty air. A brisk chilly wind came from the ocean. The Naval base was brightly lit and heavily guarded. A number of battleships were docked and he counted them, noting their different categories. They dwarfed the U-boat fleet bobbing in separate docks which were at least three times the size of those he had commanded before.
Glancing at his watch he headed out to the bar.
ooooOOOOoooo
The officer's bar was filled with men. A thick pall of cigarette smoke hung everywhere. On a small stage, a woman with dark hair falling like a waterfall of silk down her back was singing sultry songs. Although she was stunning in a glittering red evening gown that clung to her ripe curves, and her voice was throaty with sensuality, she was mostly ignored by the gathering.
"Over here Captain."
Georg made his way to a table occupied by eight men and was greeted heartily as if he were a long lost friend, though he had only met them this afternoon. Their friendly chatter did not disguise that he was still under surveillance, and that the discreet probing of his background, his views and military experience would continue in a more congenial setting.
It seemed copious amounts of alcohol would be used to loosen his tongue. Despite his relaxed manner, Georg made certain that he did not deviate from his story. In turn he took mental notes whenever a useful piece of information slipped out. The boastful claims of a senior engineer about German mechanical ingenuity yielded a cache of information about the highly advanced design of the new U-boats. Georg was sorry when the engineer was silenced by his more sober companions.
After several rounds of schnaps, one of the hard-eyed younger officers clicked his fingers to gain the attention of a table full of women.
He said with contemptuous masculine arrogance, "Women just love a man in uniform, Captain, as I'm sure you know, and our women are the most beautiful in the world."
Georg made a non-committal grunt and shrugged, indicating his wedding ring. "I'm a married man, Lieutenant," he said mildly.
"Ah yes, we heard you had married the winner of the Salzburg Festival a few weeks ago." There was a slight sneer in the way he mentioned Salzburg. Clearly he thought of Austria as a backward province.
"We heard a recording of her performance, she was quite sensational. Tell me, is she as beautiful as her voice?"
"Much more so," Georg replied with constraint, reluctant to talk about his wife in this sleazy, cynical group. There had already been too many crude remarks and ribald jokes about women in general.
"Then you're a lucky man, Captain." The lieutenant pulled one of the women, a flaxen-haired beauty onto his knee. She gave a coquettish giggle at the move. His arm was around another woman with flame-red hair, both were wearing dresses which displayed bountiful amounts of cleavage. "But these women are also beautiful," he pushed both towards Georg. "Surely they can tempt even a newly-wed bridegroom?"
To his distaste Georg found both women clinging to him, one coyly hanging on to his arm, another with her arm around his shoulder, pressing herself against him, both waiting for an invitation to perch on his lap.
"As lovely as these ladies are, I'm sorry, no. My vows are sacrosanct." He shrugged, giving the women a pretend apologetic smile. He knew how conventional and prim he sounded to these people but he didn't care. There were some lines he refused to cross in this farce.
"Your wife will never know," Marlena, the red-haired one, cooed persuasively, her green eyes full of seductive promise.
"But I'll know." He smiled to soften the rejection, wishing he was anywhere else but there.
"Your wife must be very special," the blonde one, Giselle, pouted her bright-red painted lips with a touch of acidity mixed with wistful envy.
"She is," Georg replied laconically, wondering how he could shake the women off him without appearing ungallant. The persistence of the officers and women, despite his refusal, made him realize they were using the old honeytrap ploy. Did they really think he would fall for such a tired tactic, he thought, irritated. What did they think they would gain from it?
The constant touching by both women made his skin recoil though he hid it. He suppressed a shudder of repugnance as Marlena stroked his chest over his uniform.
He reached for his drink, managing to dislodge her position subtly. "It does seem that it is the uniform that attracts women," he agreed jokingly.
"It appears you are rather fastidious," the edgy tone of Schmidt showed he was put out. "But since you have a liking for singers, let's call Inger over." He waved to the brunette singing on stage. She finished her song and sashayed over, greeting the group with a sex-kittenish purr.
"Good evening, gentleman."
"Inger meet Captain von Trapp, perhaps…" Schmidt paused tantalizing, "… soon to be Commander von Trapp. He's Austrian." He said that as if Georg were something terribly exotic.
"How marvellous." Inger murmured huskily. Before Georg could make an evasive move, she was sitting on his knee, making him cringe inwardly at the unwanted advance and the obvious display of feminine charms.
Swearing inside his head, he wondered how the hell he had gotten himself into this situation with three women vying for his attention. They were clearly trying to stroke his masculine ego as if he were a sultan with a harem. But he was not that pitiful. He managed to shift Inger discreetly by going to the men's room and upon returning, drawing up another chair, much to the mockery of his male companions.
He thought briefly of Maria with her fresh, natural beauty. On top of her breathtaking loveliness was her free-spirited vivaciousness and her great capacity for love, compassion and joy. It drew people to her like bees to honey. There was simply no comparison to any other woman. And even if he had not been married to her, he doubted he would have been tempted. He was not the idiot he had been in his indiscriminate youth. But as much as he hated his current situation he had to endure it.
The evening was never ending. The constant rounds of schnaps and toasts made his mind blur. He was vaguely aware that he was being given twice the amount of alcohol as everyone else. But through the muddle of intoxication he managed to field seemingly innocent questions from the officers, and not so innocent caresses from the women, while trying to concentrate on any information that might be useful to him, but it was getting increasingly difficult.
Long after midnight he had had enough. His head was swimming and he could barely string a coherent thought or sentence together. He hadn't been this drunk since he had been a cadet.
"Ladies, gentleman, I apologize that I must leave you." The courteous words came out slurred. "I've had a long journey today…."
He stood up and nearly fell down. He cursed inwardly, hating to be this out of control. He managed to bow politely while holding onto the back of the chair, though it made his mind spin sickeningly.
"Come now Captain, if you're going to leave us so early, why don't you let one of these lovely young ladies escort you back." All the other officers laughed bawdily and piled on the pressure, egging him on.
"No escort will be necessary. Thank you," he carefully enunciated the words. As he left he dimly heard the sulky protests from the women and the light-hearted jeers from the officers.
The fresh cold air outside was a blessing to his befuddled brain as he clutched a lamppost to steady himself. He only needed to get across the street to his hotel, but it may as well as have been a journey up the highest mountain. He was so inebriated he nearly walked in front of a clanking tram as it clattered along its tracks.
He barely made it inside his room before his stomach started heaving and he was violently sick into the toilet, feeling like death. Somehow he staggered into bed, managing to loosen the hated uniform. The room was revolving in an alarming way.
He closed his eyes and through the fog of his addled brain he brought to mind, once again, a captivating vision of Maria. It seemed to cleanse him after his unpleasant evening. In the memory she was speaking to the children about something. She was laughing with that joyous sound that made everyone around her want to join in.
The image shifted and he could picture another side of her, the private, alluring side that was his alone. She was lying in their bed at the villa, dreamily awaking from a slumber, nuzzling into his neck with exquisite passion. In his arms she was a vision of ravishing, newly blossomed sensuality, with her soft creamy skin flushed with pink and rose. Her expressive eyes were filled with so much adoration and yearning for him that it made him feel he could conquer any mountain or slay any dragon for her. God, he missed her. Surely fate could not be so cruel that he would not see her again.
His alcohol-soaked brain couldn't hold a thought for more than a moment before it dissolved into the ether. But blessedly, the images kept coming like some wondrous, flickering motion picture. There was one of Maria, forgetting all decorum and throwing herself excitedly at him after he returned from a meeting in town, and then being so delightfully abashed as she remembered that baronesses were not supposed to behave with such abandon in public.
That memory was replaced with one of Maria teasing him subtly and mercilessly with enticing looks and hidden touches while they walked with the children near the lake, until he turned the tables on her and whispered wickedly carnal retribution in her ear which made her flush scarlet. Then there were all the veiled shimmering glances across the dinner table or in the drawing room, swiftly hidden from the children. After their honeymoon, those looks and unspoken messages had flowed ceaselessly between them in an intensely private communion of two entwined souls. Underneath the normal patter of daily and family life lay a magical world where no-one else could enter.
Alas, despite trying to cling to the images, Georg dropped like a stone into a drunken sleep, though a small smile stayed on his mouth.
ooooOOOOoooo
The banging on the door the next morning brought a messenger informing him he was expected at the headquarters for his next briefing. He got up, bleary-eyed, hung-over, his head pounding, and still nauseous. Even his skin reeked of alcohol as if it was coming out of his pores. Drinking so much was a younger man's game he decided, disgruntled.
"Good morning Captain." Schmidt greeted him with false concern. "I do hope there are no adverse effects from your evening. We have a great deal to get through today. In fact, your briefings are likely to take all day, or even longer." There was glimmer of malicious humour in his eyes.
Georg groaned inwardly, reading between the lines. So, sleep deprivation was the next test. What the point of it was, he didn't know, since every interrogator knows that no worthwhile intelligence can be yielded from it, because the victim invariably becomes incoherent and delirious.
After 10 hours of 'briefings' he was suffering badly, already dehydrated and exhausted. A succession of naval officers questioned him closely, not letting him drift off at any point. By 20 hours he was completely disoriented, having no idea whether he was giving anything away. A tiny detached part of his mind recognized that rambling words were coming out of his mouth but he had no control over them. By 24 hours he was hallucinating about insects crawling all over his skin.
Mercifully, his interrogators stopped. He could only thank God that it had been a relatively mild cross examination. If they had really suspected him of deceit the consequences would have been swift and brutal. Georg slept for most of the next day. On the fourth day he was informed he could return to Austria.
"No hard feelings eh Captain? We merely wanted to get to know you better. After all, your conversion to the Nazi cause was a little too precipitous. We had to assess your sincerity," Schmidt said jovially.
"Of course, Commandant. I understand completely."
Schmidt bid him farewell. "You should keep the uniform Captain. I will be recommending your appointment in my report. Hopefully it is a mere formality. In the meantime I will give you written authorization to wear it. It will help you keep your bearings, and you will find it elicits a certain respect."
"I really don't think I should travel back to Austria wearing a uniform of the Third Reich, thank you Commandant. I can imagine that might create a great deal of consternation in Austria since the Anschluss has not happened yet," Georg pointed out dryly.
Schmidt roared with laughter as if this was the most hilarious joke. "Quite right, Captain," he chortled.
He looked at Georg thoughtfully before deciding to confide in him. "In any case I have splendid news. The Anschluss is imminent. You had better hurry back to Austria, you don't want to miss history in the making. That fool von Schuschnigg has called a referendum on Austrian independence. The Fuhrer will not stand for it. He has been tolerant for so long, but now he has lost all patience. Austria will be liberated within days, perhaps hours. You will return here within a week of the annexation to accept your new commission. Heil Hitler."
"Heil Hitler."
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Exhausted, Georg slept for most of the journey back. He awoke near the border. The Wehrmacht troops were now more disciplined. There was a palpable air of purpose amongst the battalions.
Georg got off long before the train reached Salzburg. He had already said his farewells to his villa before he left for his journey inside the 'belly of the beast.' The house had seemed desolate after Maria and the children had left, so it had not been a difficult parting.
He took a number of trains in different directions in case his movements were being monitored. On one of the trains going west to France, he met a couple whom he persuaded to post a letter from him once they reached Paris. It was addressed to Frau Schmidt and provided the combination to Georg's safe where there was enough money to pay the household staff for the next months. The French postmark would hopefully be a decoy for Zeller and his men when they were hunting him.
Then he took a train east, heading to the castle at Weiner Neustadt – the location of the Theresian Military Academy. He had an appointment with General Towarek.
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AN: I hated putting Georg in a Nazi uniform, but I saw a film that CP made called Triple Cross (available on Youtube) where he played a real-life British spy in Nazi Germany.
Way back in chapter 17 when Maria first met General Rudolf Towarek at the ball, I mentioned he was a real historical figure. He is significant because he led the only recorded instance of Austrian Armed Forces' resistance to the Anschluss, when he refused to let Nazi troops enter the Theresian Military Academy where Austria's elite officers have been trained for 400 years.
Thank you for reading and I would love to know your thoughts. xxx