The bar was decrepit enough, although not the seediest one that I had visited in my life. I had purposely avoided any remotely better establishments which I knew were teeming with Allied soldiers. I had fought the Allies for almost four years on the battlefield. I had little desire to engage them in verbal or physical combat in a bar.
I was thankful for the dim lighting. It hid my German uniform. I had always worn my uniform proudly, but I had already received several jeers from Allied soldiers on the streets this afternoon. Placing black combs under their noses, the enlisted soldiers would yell out "Heil Hitler" when they saw me approaching. They followed me, taunting me to surrender now to avoid the strong likelihood of being killed.
I could have changed into civilian clothing to avoid the confrontations, I mused, but few items of my non-military clothing fit me. I had lost a considerable amount of weight over the last several months due to the monotonous diet of poor quality food we had been issued. However, I knew deep down to my soul that I would never deny my uniform or service to Germany regardless of the war's outcome.
How my life, professional and personal, had changed for the worse due to the war! I wistfully remembered the carefree days before the war began, bringing them clearly into focus as if they were just yesterday. It was the time when Nazi Germany was obsessively reaching for a pinnacle to burn away the ugly defeat of the previous war. It was a period which seemed to have been lived by someone else trapped within my body.
I considered my depressing surroundings, unable to prevent myself from comparing them to the fine establishments that I had previously frequented in Berlin during my off hours. Recognized as a rising Wehrmacht officer from an elite family, I was eagerly welcomed with open arms.
I remembered the glamorous clubs that I had visited during this bygone era. They had teemed with gorgeous and elegant women, dying to be seen on my arm, unabashedly showing their affection towards me on the dance floor. In the background were bands playing American Jazz and Big Band music, one of the few things that I cared for that had been produced by the Americans.
I would dance with the women to the early morning hours, pressing them closer and closer to me as the evening passed. Their desire would be unmistakable, as clearly as if spoken, the thin dresses which accented their sensuous bodies doing nothing to mute the expression of their want. Finally, I would escort them away to an elegant suite, where neither one of us would deny the other's temptation, having ravenous sex until dawn.
There were so many of these "last nights" that I had spent with various woman, the women who had pledged to wait and remain faithful to me no matter what the upcoming war would bring. Of course, none of these women were presently in my life. All of us had traveled our separate paths over the years. Even before the war, the military had continually displaced me, making any serious relationship almost impossible.
I used my career as an excuse. But frankly, since I had begun my military service, I had not desired anything more tangible than pure physical pleasure from the various women whom I had encountered.
I slowly returned to the present. The bar, if anything, looked even worse in comparison to my pleasant memories.
I was sitting at a small table in the back by myself, half-heartedly listening to what passed for a band. All its music sounded the same. Eventually, I began to suspect that it only knew one piece and hoped the patrons were too drunk on the horrible alcohol to notice.
I eventually noticed a woman near the bar. I could see her glancing at me, from the corner of her eye, trying not to make herself too obvious. She appeared to be unaccompanied, which was logical given the type of establishment we both were visiting.
I frankly had not been looking for companionship this evening, preferring to remain alone. However, the opportunity was blatantly presenting itself. From my vantage point, she appeared attractive enough. It did strike me as odd, given the heat, that the long sleeves of her dress reached past her elbows but that was hardly anything to give me pause.
Finally, I thought that I should act.
The next time she caught my eye, I indicated my interest by giving her a slight nod. I motioned to the empty chair beside me, indicating for her to join me. She immediately flashed a brazen smile and left the bar. She walked to my table and quickly took a seat, as if concerned that I would find someone else to keep me company tonight.
She was tall and graceful, although upon closer inspection, her simple black dress hung shapeless upon her slender figure. Normally, I preferred my women to be lithe, but she was too thin. Everyone was thin, I thought darkly, except for the Nazi leaders who continued to grow fatter at the expense of others.
The woman's hair was a dark brunette falling in thick waves past her shoulders and her brown eyes were almost black. Her eyes were circled by dark smudges, contrasting sharply against her light olive skin. She had high cheek bones and if I was a betting man, I would have placed even odds on her being French given the proximity of the French territories. She had appeared older, but when I looked closely, I surmised her appearance was due to hard living rather than the passage of time.
"Hello, Hauptmann. Care to buy a lady a drink?" she asked with a wink. She spoke in horrible German, and her accent confirmed her French nationality. I signaled the bartender. We sat in silence for the few minutes that it took for the drinks to arrive. The woman then moved her chair even closer to mine, pressing her leg suggestively against mine.
"Cheers," she toasted, touching my glass. She quickly downed her drink, looking at me expectantly. I decided that she probably desired another drink so I also drank mine quickly. My previous drink was terrible, but this drink was truly awful. It was an effort to finish it completely.
"Your name, Madame?" I finally asked.
"Cheri." She leaned towards me. "What do you have in mind?"
I couldn't help but laugh at her question. I would not be speaking with her if I wanted anything else than the one thing she had to offer me.
"You may speak French instead of German, if you prefer," I responded in my excellent French. Her poor accent grated on my ears like nails on a chalkboard. In fact, there was something I found completely off and irritating about the woman which I was unable to identify.
I briefly considered giving her some money freeing me to find a different companion for the evening. My intuition was clearly sending me a warning signal about her. I asked myself if I should listen to it.
After wavering for a few seconds, I made my decision given the briefness of my furlough.
"Do you have a place nearby?" I asked.
"Ah! Getting right down to business, no time wasted. I like a man who knows what he wants. Sure, I have a place not too far away. We can talk specifics when we get there. You must leave right after you're finished, though, as I have other customers who desire my company. But wherever you land, you will sleep well once you leave my place. I promise you."
I thought her comments vulgar, but still I nodded in agreement. We were both willing adults aware of what the other wanted. I was not purchasing her company for her conversational ability and staying the night with her was the last thing that I would have wanted.
I settled my bar tab and she accompanied me out, talking animatedly in French as she led me through a nearby dark alley.
"I'm sure business will be strong the next days with all you lonely Germans. Everyone will want a woman's company before they are sent away to a POW camp for God knows how many years." Abruptly, she halted under a burned out streetlight.
"Do you have any cigarettes, Hauptmann?" she suddenly requested. "Preferably American?"
"I apologize for being able to offer you only German cigarettes," I responded with contempt for her forwardness. "Would you still care for one?"
"Sure, why not?"
I reached into my breast pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes along with my lighter. She greedily reached for the both of them, but my fingers quickly clasped around the lighter, preventing her from taking it.
Cheri quickly pulled out a cigarette from the pack and placed it between her lips, leaning over for me to light it. She blew out a plume of smoke, her eyes following the lighter as I pocketed it.
"Nice lighter. English?"
I merely shrugged at her. The lighter was of no concern of hers. I considered it something deeply personal, connecting me to a dying man and to a difficult episode from the past.
"It is okay, Hauptmann," she said with her own shrug. "Everything has changed sides so many times I don't think anyone knows where anything originally belonged. Beautiful memento, though." She thought for a moment. "May I have it for services about to be rendered? German Reich Marks have little value these days. The lighter will maintain its value. You may stay longer with me when you're finished, if you like." She held out her hand expectedly, twittering her eyelashes for emphasis.
"No," I said coldly, "You may not have it. The cigarettes, though, you may keep. And as for remaining in your presence longer, I will leave immediately afterwards as we initially agreed. I will have no desire to tarry."
Her eyes hardened at my blunt words. I cared little. She, or no one else would possess the lighter. It was mine to hold unto for its strength and power until the day I died. The cigarettes were my final pack, but I could do without them. Now would be as good as any other time for me to quit smoking. Cigarettes would be difficult to obtain in a POW camp and there should be no reason for me to stress myself with a desire for them during my captivity.
I motioned for Cheri to continue walking, but she remained in the same spot. I was surprised at her delay. Although not normally something that I would do with this type of woman, I bent down to kiss her, believing she desired me to do so.
Cheri placed her arms around my neck as if in resignation, quickly transferring the cigarette to her left hand before her right hand went to my chest.
I suddenly became lightheaded. I closed my eyes briefly to steady myself, but the action only intensified the feeling. It was only slightly better when I reopened my eyes. The drinks must have impacted me far more than I had realized, I thought, surprised. I generally had a high tolerance for alcohol.
The dizziness greatly increased. I began to feel nauseous. I had to place my hand suddenly on the cool bricks to keep myself from falling.
"Did you honestly believe I would make love to you, Boche? Dirty my body with the likes of a German? And take the chance of conceiving your bastard Nazi offspring?" Cheri spat.
From the shadows of the alley I saw two figures emerge. Now I realized the cause of my illness. She must have had my final drink drugged. But for what reason, I wondered? The desert war would end shortly for Germany. Anything I knew would soon be useless. There was little, if any, information I could provide my assailants which would assist the Allied war effort.
The alley was now spinning around me. I heard someone speaking French with an extremely heavy German accent.
It took me a few seconds to realize that I was the speaker. I sounded like a first year student.
"You are mistaken . . ." what was her name? For the life of me I couldn't remember her name.
Was it Darlene? Or Jolene? No, Nadine was the name of the American woman in a different bar, so many, many years ago in Benghazi. Had this French woman even told me her name?
"Make love? You are mistaken, Woman." Her name was completely gone from my mind so I used the only word I could articulate. Now barely coherent, it was requiring too much concentration to speak any French at all.
"I never had any intention of making love to you . . . Woman. You were merely going to be the means to my release."
I began to sway back and forth. I knew it would not be long before I fell. I was uncertain if she could even understand my words, they were such a garbled mess.
Apparently, the woman was able to understand my words sufficiently. The last thing I felt before I lost consciousness, was the sharp crack of her hand against my face before I slumped down into the dirt.