They walked in relative silence. As Emilie had expected, Eberhardt took the lead, striding ahead, brandishing his gun. Kuhn and Hinkel walked on either side of her, as though she were an animal that was going to bolt at any minute. She had to clench her teeth to stop her from saying anything. She refused to let her crutches slow her down, despite the fact walking through snow in them was almost impossible.
Beside her, Hinkel stared straight ahead, not sparing her a second glance. She could see he was tensed by the rigidness of the muscles in his neck.
"What happened to you, Hinkel?" she murmured, leaning in. She caught herself watching the back of Eberhardt's head nervously, as if she was afraid he would hear her. Since when did she care what he thought? She sure as Hell wasn't afraid of him, just of the influence he had over people.
Hinkel remained quiet, staring straight ahead, for a few more moments, before finally letting out a defeated sigh and looking down at her. She could have sworn she saw sorrow in his eyes, as though the last thing on Earth he wanted to be doing was following Eberhardt, but he didn't have the courage to stand up to him. "I believe in what he's saying," he muttered back, shrugging. Then his eyes grew hard once more, cold, and he hissed, "And you have no right to say otherwise, woman."
Emilie drew in a deep breath, shaking her head sadly. "Then God help you, you fool."
"What did you just call me?"
"You heard me."
From out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kuhn shoot her a warning glance, clearly telling her to shut up and not make matters worse, for any of them. She knew he was right, and fell silent, concentrating instead on her walking.
As they got closer to the foxholes, Emilie could faintly hear the soldiers listening to different German radio-stations, particularly Arnhem Annie, that broadcasted propaganda to the Americans, mocking, insulting, offering that, if the Yanks surrendered, they could move into Germany and live in comfort for the remainder of the war, and said "you can listen to our music, but you can't walk in our streets". Most of the Germans there didn't speak English, so couldn't understand her for the most part, but the ones that did speak the language translated it to their comrades. Emilie could also hear them reading aloud from leaflets that the German army had dropped to the Americans in Holland, entitled 'Why Fight For The Jews?', that had been translated into Deutsch. The mere thought of the leaflets set her blood on fire; she had no hatred for the Jewish people. Fucking Nazis. And she knew for a fact that few of the soldiers in her company actually supported Hitler – so why were they reading it?
"Ah, music to my ears." Eberhardt remarked dreamily.
There was her answer.
As they got closer, Emilie could just see a few men awaiting their arrival through the fog. Squinting, she could recognise her CO, but struggled to make out the second figure standing beside him. But, as they continued to make their way through the snow, she was able to put a name to the face she saw. Her breath hitched in her throat.
General Theodor Tolsdorf, the thirty-five year old Prussian commander of the LXXXII Corps and currently in command of the 340th Volksgrenadier Division over in the Bois Jacques; also known as Tolsdorf the Mad, because of his recklessness with his own life and with the lives of his soldiers. He had almost set the record for advancement in the Wehrmacht, and had been wounded nearly eleven times. She had never met him personally, but he knew that he rarely even acknowledged men of a lesser rank than him. So what was he doing there, poised to greet a mere sergeant and woman?
She swallowed. Eberhardt snapped off a salute and stood at attention in front of the two officers, as did Kuhn and Hinkel. Emilie also stopped briefly to salute, before weaving around Eberhardt to stand at the front of the small group, much to the others obvious chagrin. But they said nothing; even Eberhardt didn't dare speak up.
Tolsdorf raised his eyebrows at Emilie; perhaps he hadn't realise he would be meeting a woman, perhaps he was shocked by the fact she was on crutches, or maybe he was surprised by the sight of a sergeant having enough confidence to face them directly, seemingly without fear. Oh, they had no idea. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears. She was just happy the bitter cold gave an excuse for her shaking hands.
"Sir," she addressed her CO, looking him directly in the eyes. He nodded once in return, but she could see the relief on his face. Emilie then turned her head to look at the man beside him. "General. It's an honour."
No one said anything for a few seconds as they waited for the General to speak; he seemed to enjoy the tension that crackled in the air, the power he held. Even her CO risked a glance at him. Then, finally, Tolsdorf spoke, his foreign accent something Emilie hadn't encountered before. It seemed like she was being expose to a wide array of different accents recently. "Sergeant Demont. Follow me to somewhere you, I and your commanding officer can speak in privacy." He pointed at Kuhn, who froze. "And, you. Say nothing about Sergeant Demont to the other men. We can't afford anymore gossip around here." Kuhn nodded fearfully. Tolsdorf's gaze swept over the other Hinkel and Eberhardt, before marching away, not even bothering to address them. That must have been a major blow to Eberhardt's ego, or maybe he would use it as further proof why there should be no ranks in the army. Who knew what went on in his twisted, little mind.
Tolsdorf lead them away; the men in their foxholes around them had fallen silent, watching intently, eyes glued to Emilie disbelievingly. Only the music pouring from the small field radios and the wind filled the quiet, before their whispering began:
"Is that really her?"
"Where did she get the crutches?"
"Where has she been?"
"Where's Drechsler?"
The General didn't spare them a second glance, while a scorching glare from the CO didn't even manage to silence the hubbub for more than a few seconds. Emilie glanced at them and smiled, pausing to offer a tentative wave before continuing on after the other men. A few returned the uncertain wave, Zimmermann amongst them who gave it a little more eagerly than the rest, while others just narrowed their eyes suspiciously.
Tolsdorf took them into a small tent that had been set up behind the line; both that and the aid station had been moved backwards after the bombing, out of the range of the American artillery. As they passed the aid station, the doctor poked his head out of the flap, eyes widening as he spotted her. She was relieved to see a relatively friendly face, which surprised her, as she had spent the entire time since he had first arrived bickering with him. And she didn't even know his name.
As soon as they were inside the tent, the General took a seat at a makeshift desk that had been erected, pulling a half-empty bottle of alcohol from the side and pouring a small glass. Both she and her CO stood at attention before him; it was an amusing sight, seeing her CO sucking up to someone else.
"Would you like a drink?" Tolsdorf asked, looking up only briefly to gesture to the bottle before taking a sip.
"No, thank you, sir," they both replied in unison. In reality, Emilie was dying for a drink. A lot of drinks. A helluva lot of strong, horribly bitter drinks. But she had to remain coherent; she had an impressive tolerance of alcohol, but who knew? The General would only have drunk something befitting of his prized rank.
Tolsdorf grunted, pushing the glass to the side before looking up, folding his fingers together and leaning back in his chair. "Well, then, let's get down to business, shall we?"
Emilie hoped he couldn't see how nervous she was. She nodded, wanting him to tell them they were able to stand at ease. But he seemed to like seeing them like that: unable to disobey an order, but struggling all the same. Then, finally, he gestured that they were able to relax, and Emilie stifled a relieved sigh, repositioning her crutches.
"So, sergeant Demont," Tolsdorf began, studying her with an almost bored expression, "That man…" His eyes flicked to her CO. "What was his name?"
"Kuhn, sir."
Tolsdorf nodded. "Yes, thank you." He turned back to Emilie, blinking slowly, studying her long enough to make her uncomfortable, before talking once more. "Kuhn told me you were taken to the American hospital in Bastogne by a comrade after being wounded and nursed back to health there, and that that same comrade died delivering you there. Is that true?"
At the mention of Drechsler , Emilie tensed, but nodded all the same. "Yes, sir." She gestured to her crutches.
"But what I don't understand is why the enemy would care for you." He didn't seem to believe her. Indeed, he appeared a little suspicious of her and her story; of course, that was completely justifiable and what she had expected, but it still made her panic a little on the inside. She had to find some way to convince them it was true.
"Permission to speak freely, sir."
He granted, before waving a hand. "Granted."
"Thank you," Emilie began, sniffling a little. God, the last thing she needed was a cold. "General, they didn't know I was German. Drechsler, brave and smart to the last moment, took any indication that I was German off of my uniform, and gave me a coat to hide it." She held up the coat with one arm; it was heavy. "But he was shot on sight by a group of Americans the moment he entered the town. They didn't even suspect me; when I could speak, I gave them a fake name, and my Australian accent helped keep me under the radar."
The General considered her story for a long, drawn-out moment. Her CO glanced at her sideways, but she didn't dare look at him. She needed to be on her best behaviour, for once, and that meant playing the part of a good, obedient little soldier. Her very life, and position in the army, which was practically the same thing, could very well depend on it. Finally, Tolsdorf spoke. "And, tell me, sergeant, how did you get back here? Surely they wouldn't have happily taken you behind enemy lines."
"No, sir," She chose her words carefully, having to think on the spot. Why hadn't she prepared for this earlier? Idiot! "But in the chaos after you bombed the town, I was able to slip away unnoticed and make my way back here without anyone ever realising." Emilie sighed, biting her bottom lip. "I know how it sounds, but it's the God honest true. If I could have been here, I would have, I promise you that. But please, sir, all I want to do now is make it up to you and the men and do my duty for my country. I'm not one to beg, but being a medic is in my blood. Please don't take that away from me." She knew she sounded pitiful, but all she could hope for was that it worked.
Suddenly, her CO broke his silence and stepped forward. Tolsdorf cocked an eyebrow, but said nothing, waiting for him to speak. "I know Sergeant Demont, sir," her CO began, sounding almost as desperate as Emilie however hard he tried to conceal it. It was strange to witness; he was usually so calm and calculating. "She has been in my company since training. She may be many things, but she would never lie about something as important as this. She is loyal to our army and to Germany. And it might be out of place to say so, but I believe her. We need a medic, and she is the best one around."
For a second, she expected the General to get annoyed and say something like 'thank you for your input, Major' before ordering she was shot. But, no. The tension was getting to her, and she found herself starting to get irritated; if she was going to be killed, she wished he would just spit it out already! He gestured at her Commanding Officer to stand down before returning his attention to Emilie.
"Alright, Demont," he announced, pulling a stack of papers in front of him with one hand. "Get yourself to the aid station for a check-up and a briefing of what you've missed while you've been on your little holiday."
Her heart almost erupted from her chest, and she couldn't help the huge, stupid grin that flew onto her face. "Really? Thank you! I won't let you down."
"You better not," he grunted, looking down at his papers before beginning to scrawl writing on them with an ink pen. "That will be all, sergeant, Major. Now leave me be. And, sergeant, I think it would be best if you kept the tales of your adventure to yourself, however exciting they may be."
Both she and her CO saluted sharply before turning and walking from the tent. "Thank you!" she called back before disappearing, and she could have sworn she saw the General crack a small smile. No. Her mind must have been playing tricks on her in her joyous state.
Once they were outside and once again being battered to and fro by the harsh winds, her CO turned to her. "Congratulations, Emilie. It's…" He paused awkwardly, "It's good to have you back. Soldier."
"It's good to be back," She smiled, something she never would have thought she would have done in his presence. "Even if that sounds terribly cliché."
He let out a rumbling chuckle, before nodding and walking briskly away.
Now, onto the aid station. Her favourite place.
