Versie
A/n: The character of 1st Lieutenant Versie Elizabeth Cumba (pronounced Kum-bee), is an original character introduced in Southern Skies, Southern Lies. I promise you will not have to read the story to understand this chapter.
It has been pointed out I have been less than clear in my last two chapters. Sometimes I get so engrossed into writing the story; I assume everyone remembers the episode as I do. You have my apologies readers. I will try to remember not everyone is at the same place in fandom (which is not to say one level of fandom is better over another). Thanks so much to konarciq for bringing this to my attention.
Gertrude walked into Albert's office and found him stuffing his brief case full of papers. He paused for a moment as he glanced up and noted her presence. Just as quickly, he wordlessly resumed his frenetic task.
"Where are you going Albert?" an alarmed Gertrude exclaimed.
"To Berlin, I have something I need to attend to," he replied briskly, not bothering to look at her.
Gertrude furrowed her brow and gazed at her brother. She mentally reviewed his schedule and did not remember anything on his calendar regarding any trips in the near future. She noted the red tint of his face and the sweat on his brow. Something had upset him and she suspected this unscheduled excursion was the reason. She felt a wave of concern for him because he appeared very flustered, not his usual calm demeanor.
"What is so important that you have to rush about in such an agitated state?"
"Never mind, it doesn't concern you." He paused and seemed to steel himself before he looked back up at her. His features then soften, as did the tone of his voice. "Gerti, where I am going…well it is one of those places a well-bred lady should not have to think about."
"Well you cannot be off to some cathouse or you would not be so hesitant to tell me. So just come out with it Albert, where are you going?"
"I told you, Berlin."
"You have told me nothing."
General Burkhalter snapped the clasp closed on his briefcase and walked around his desk to stand in front of his diminutive sister. "Don't push me on this."
"Fine," Gertrude said, folding her arms across her chest. "I will pack and come with you."
"NO!" Burkhalter yelled. Gertrude watched as he battled with himself before replying. In an indulgent but no less determined tone he continued, "I told you, this is not for you. This is the last place I want you ever to be."
"Then tell me," she said as she refused to back down.
"You are the most…alright then. I am going to Prinz-Albrecht-Straße number eight, satisfied?"
Gertrude sucked in her breath. The address was notorious to every German; the mere mention of it brought fear and dread. She struggled to get her emotions under control before continuing. Even after all her effort she made at calming herself, there still was a pronounced quiver to her voice.
"What business do you have at Gestapo Headquarters?"
Burkhalter tucked the briefcase under his arm and clasped his hands behind his back, as he glowered at his sister. Unfazed, Gertrude met his stare with one of her own. Finally, with an exasperated sigh he replied, "I have been summoned to an emergency meeting with Gruppenführer Müller to discuss the numerous acts of sabotage that have been happening in the area. Acts which I am sure you don't know anything about."
"I know nothing," she said with a slight curve to her lips.
"I see I need to curtail your visits to the Stalags," he grumbled, "one Stalag in particular."
"Oh quit being a fussbudget Albert," she chided humorously. "I am going and that is that. "
She turned and began to leave the room, pausing only long to look over her shoulder and say, "I will be ready to leave in two hours. I expect you to be here when I get back." She then quickly exited the room, shutting the door behind her. Once in the outer office she put her hand to her chest in an effort to still her rapidly hammering heart. She was going into the lion's den. It was a prospect she did not relish but any information she could get and forward to the Allies would help this war end much sooner. Maybe through her actions, she could save a wife somewhere the heartache she had to live with.
She took a deep breath and fortified her resolve. She reminded herself she was doing this as much for Albert as for the war effort. This conflict could not last forever and there would be a day a reckoning. People like Albert would have to account for their actions. She wanted to be able to bank as much good will with the Allies as possible and use it to help Albert when that day came.
Gertrude looked up at the building as the driver pulled up to the curb. From the outside, Gestapo Headquarters looked benign with its well-manicured lawns and neatly trimmed hedges. It cloaked itself with an air of respectability but that was a lie, a mask to fool the populace into forgetting what went on inside. She looked at its water stained stone façade. It looked as if the building was crying from the pain and misery it contained. People walked by unhurriedly as if they were passing nothing more sinister than the local grocer. She wondered at their self-delusion. Did they not understand it was only a matter of time before they found themselves unwilling visitors to this stone monument to Hell on Earth? On the other hand, maybe pretending was the only defense they had. Surely, they would go insane if they had to face the reality of the structure day in and day out.
"You do not have to go with me, Gerti," Albert said, startling her from her morbid thoughts. "The driver can take you to the hotel."
Gertrude shook her head and forced herself to smile. "No Albert, that won't be necessary." The last thing she wanted was to see more of Berlin. The bombed out buildings were enough but to look into the faces of the starving children was almost more than her mother's heart could bear.
She stepped out of the vehicle as the driver opened the door and held out his hand to steady her. "Thank you," she murmured as she stepped onto the sidewalk.
"My pleasure," he replied as he released her hand.
Albert came and stood by her side. She looked up at him and saw his face was a mosaic of worry, annoyance and concern. She took his arm and tried to look strong. Wordlessly he began his long strides up the flagstone path and into the building, forcing her to hurry to keep pace.
The interior was dim and it took her eyes a moment to adjust. When her vision cleared, she saw Gestapo men, both in and out of uniform, everywhere. On the far side of the room sat a balding man. Across the desk stood a thin, hunched and worn old man with his hat in his hands in supplication. His lined face conveyed a resigned acceptance of his fate. She could hear the bald man bark questions and the older man responded with bowed head, in the softest of whispers. This seemed to irate the bald man. He abruptly stood up, rounded the desk, grabbed the old man by his coat lapels and began to scream directly into his face. Unwilling to ponder the man's fate any longer, she turned away.
A young Leutnant approached them and introduced himself as Karl Jodl. He led them down a hallway towards the cellar while he explained Müller was busy "debriefing" a suspected communist. The stairwell was narrow, necessitating them to descend in single file. The cellar was even more horrid than the first floor. Prison cells lined both sides of the corridor. Some of the cells were deadly quite. From others came weeping, moans and cries for mercy. She clung to Albert as he put his arm protectively around her.
As they rounded the corner, a group of five women was being marched back to their cells. All of them bore shaved heads; their clothes were soaked in sweat, vomit and other body fluids. Their faces were devoid of any expression or emotion as if they were merely a chalk etching some child had half erased. As the last woman came into view, Gertrude stopped in her tracks, her action almost causing her brother to trip over her.
The woman in question was small, perhaps a half a decimeter shorter than Gertrude. Whereas Gertrude was a full figure woman, she was a slight little thing, too thin for the current fashion but pretty in her own way. From her brow and the stubble on her head, Gertrude thought her hair was most likely in the auburn color range. Her grey eyes were lifeless; her face carried the bruises of her latest beating.
What initially caught Gertrude's attention was not the woman but her clothing. They were not civilian attire but appeared to be a uniform. She racked her brain but could not come up with what auxiliary military branch she could belong. Besides, she seemed far too young. The woman appeared to be in her mid-twenties, the age when a lot of pressure would be applied to encourage her to marry and have children. Most of the auxiliary forces were women like Gertrude, widowed and past the childbearing age.
"Leutnant Jodl, may I ask who that woman is in the strange uniform?"
The young man looked nervously at the General.
Albert sighed and said resignedly, "You might as well answer; my dear sister will give you no peace until you do."
"That is Lieutenant Cumba of the United States Army Air Force."
"An American pilot?" Gertrude asked amazed.
"No, a flight nurse I believe."
"What is she doing here?"
"Her medical evacuation plane was accidently shot down over France. The rest of the plane's crew has been sent to their respective POW camps."
"Why is she here if she is a prisoner of war and a noncombatant ?"
"The interrogation center in Frankfurt was not set up for women, so she was transferred here."
"Why here? By your own admission she is not an enemy of the state."
Jodl looked to the General, who just shrugged and replied, "Do not look at me Leutnant. I have to deal with her on a daily basis, now it is your turn."
"Well?" Gertrude prompted.
The Leutnant pulled nervously at his collar. "She is being prepped for work aiding the fatherland."
'What kind of work?"
"Well….our troops work hard and the need….comfort."
"Comfort? What kind of comfort?"
He cut his eyes to the General who remained silent, leaving the man to deal with Gertrude on his own.
"You know….physical comfort."
"What kind of physical comfort are we talking about?"
"Gnädige Frau…please," he pleaded as he began to perspire profusely.
"I will ask you again, what kind of physical comfort?" she said between gritted teeth.
"Sex."
"You want her to prostitute herself?" Gertrude said as her voice rose over an octave. "Albert?"
"There are comfort stations for the men to enjoy themselves without the worry of disease or an unwanted pregnancy. The women are all volunteers. Most are criminals who seek an easy way to lessen their sentence."
"And how many have been paroled because of their service?"
Both men remained silent.
"Just as I thought, none. And those who do not volunteer?"
"Oh those are usually Poles, Slavs or Jews. No one of consequence, I assure you," Jodl quickly interjected.
"Maybe not to you but I am sure their families and loved ones think differently."
"Gertrude," Albert's quiet tone warned her she had now stepped onto dangerous ground and she immediately began to back track.
"What about the young American?"
"She is a special project of Major Hochstetter. If he is successful, his techniques will be used to recruit others for service to the Fatherland."
"Albert, you are responsible for all the POW camps in Germany. She falls under your jurisdiction. Do something."
"I do not like this anymore than you but to take her from Hochstetter would cause more trouble that it is worth," Burkhalter replied.
"If Lotte fell into American hands, would you want the same fate for her?"
"No, of course not." After a moment of consideration, he warned Gertrude, "Freeing her will cost me greatly but it will cost you more."
"I am willing to pay the price."
"Are you? Well we'll see, won't we?" Turning to Jodl, Burkhalter said in a tired voice, "Take me to General Müller."
It was the next day before Cumba was loaded onto the back of a truck and taken from Gestapo Headquarters.
"Why is she chained and wearing a hood?" Gertrude asked her brother who was standing next her.
"Just be content she is now under Luftwaffe control."
"Where is she going?"
"Stalag XIII until she can be repatriated."
"Good, Klink will make sure she is well cared for."
"I hope she is worth the price, Gerti"
"I think she is," replied Gertrude.
Next: Surprise! Surprise! Surprise!
a/n:
Heinrich Müller was Chief of the Gestapo 1939–1945