Chapter 2: Operation Henker
In this chapter:
· Some Basterds
· A new recruit
"A'right men, we got us a mission. Seems an American's gone and got 'erself marooned somewhere out in the goddamn French countryside, so we're gon' go see if we can't help her out some."
Normally, Donny wouldn't question his lieutenant, but this objective seemed a little odd. He had become accustomed to their usual routine, and that had only ever involved one thing and one thing only: killing Nazis.
"So we're going to rescue this fuckin' damsel in distress?"
"Not just any damsel," Lt. Aldo Raine corrected him in his rolling Southern drawl, "She's American, she's alone and she also happens to be the daughter of an ol' friend o' mine. Oh, and the Germans have taken to calling her 'Henker'."
"Henker?" Donny asked, frowning at the foreign word.
"Wilhelm?" Aldo called to his interpreter.
The Austrian-born soldier glanced up from cleaning his weapon and replied, "Executioner."
"Why the fuck are they calling her that?" Donny asked, suddenly more interested.
"'Parently she's killed a heck of a lotta Nazi's. But I ain't one to go on word o' mouth alone, so I figured we head on down there and find out fer ourselves."
A few days after the massacre at the Marigold place, it became apparent to Colonel Landa that the girl he had left back in the orchard was more of a threat than he had first considered. Word had gotten back to him that a squad of German soldiers had disappeared whilst passing through that particular stretch of French countryside, and that the subsequent squads sent out to investigate were never heard from again. The situation had escalated into such an embarrassing fiasco that the German command - at least those who knew of the Marigold incident - stopped sending their troops altogether. If word reached the enemy of a lone woman in a tree besting the trained men of the German military, they would be the laughing stock of the European theater.
After seeing her grandparents' lifeless bodies sprawled and bleeding on the grass, and hearing the murders of seven innocent people, a dark rage had awoken in Elsie. Armed with the pistol of the first soldier she had killed, she took out the patrol who had simply been passing through, then claimed each of their weapons too. Hanging loaded machine guns from a strategic selection of trees, she proceeded to wipe out the ensuing squads who actually had been sent to find and kill her. Fueled by the adrenaline of the successful firefight, she had cut off one of the Nazi's heads and stuck it on a wooden pole out the front of the burnt remains of the villa as a warning to any other Nazis who were looking to meet the same fate. And it seemed to work; no other patrols came through and she began to find herself wishing for the sound of German voices and their soft but audible footsteps as they attempted to sneak up on her. She had almost come to expect the Nazi soldiers, but she was not expecting the group that came into the orchard that afternoon.
The first sign of 'Henker' that the Basterds discovered was the grisly signpost she had placed out the front of the burnt-out building. The severed head, complete with Nazi helmet, was a clear indication of what they were dealing with.
Aldo glanced at his sergeant, who was looking a little more enthusiastic now that he had seen their 'damsel's work, then looked back at his men. They were observing the head with a mixture of alarm and admiration. Aldo led the way towards the orchard and came to a halt at what had once been the patio doors, surveying the cluster of trees beyond. Looking down, he became momentarily distracted by a square shaped cavern, staring down into its blackened staircase, before turning to face the group once more.
"A'right, word is that she's holed up in one of these here trees," he motioned towards the vast orchard, "So to make this a quick and relatively smooth process, ya'll are gonna be splittin' into pairs."
The men looked around at each other and then back at their lieutenant.
"By the looks o' things, there ain't gon' be any Nazis left 'live out there, so no need to have yer weapons out. Speak Anglish, 'specially if yer American born. A familiar accent might make 'er come lookin' for us, which'd make this a helluva lot easier. A'right, get movin'."
Aldo remained where he was, where he had a view of the entire orchard, while the soldiers paired off and moved out to began their search. The information he had to go on was largely based on rumors; romanticized stories of a woman spurned by a German-lover, seeking revenge on the entire German army. Another he had heard was that she was a lone resistance fighter, the sole survivor after a Nazi massacre. That one seemed to have the most truth to it. He couldn't imagine little Elsie Marigold taking a German soldier to bed, though he was sure she had grown into a fine, young woman since he had last seen her seven years earlier; the teary-eyed teenager waving goodbye as she boarded the boat for France. He would have gladly taken her in himself if he'd had the room and the money; but feeding his own family had been proving difficult enough at that time. The solution came when her grandparents offered for her to come and live with them at the villa. He had been hesitant at first; the only memories he had of Europe were of fighting alongside Elsie's father during the Battle of St. Mihiel and in the Argonne forest. He had always held onto a little bit of guilt for not being able to raise her himself. He had already been on his way when the orders had been passed down for a search and rescue. Watching his men search the area now, he could only hope that the girl was still alive and well.
From her place in the tree Elsie heard people talking, but couldn't make out the words; unable to tell if they were German or other. Fallen twigs snapped under the feet of those approaching. She frowned. The Germans were usually more careful than that. She listened harder for the voices. To her surprise one voice sounded German, but the other was distinctly American. Had the war come to an end while she had been sitting up in her tree?
The voices came closer. She could understand them now.
"You think she's around here?" the American voice asked.
They were looking for her. She didn't know whether to jump down or wait. It could be a trap.
"Lieutenant Raine says she is, but if I were her I would have moved on by now. The Nazis woulda learned to stay away. It'd get boring," the American voice spoke again.
Lieutenant Raine. She knew that name. Aldo. It had to be.
She shook a tree branch ever so slightly to get the attention of the passing soldiers. The German voice hushed the American one just as he began speaking again. The taller of the two looked up and spotted a face peering down at them. He gave a sort of half-smile at the girl to show that they were friendly.
"Looking for me?" she asked, her accent immediately striking him as odd.
"You're the only woman we've come across sitting up in a tree, so unless there are others around, I suppose we are," he replied.
She chuckled and began climbing down. Reaching the lowest branch, Elsie looked around for another foothold, but couldn't see one. The German-sounding soldier offered his hand and, with a smile, she allowed him to help her down.
She looked like hell. The clothes she had been wearing at the time of the interrogation - a tan-colored sundress - had not fared well over her week-long stay in the branches. Torn in some places, and splattered with blood and dirt in others, she certainly wouldn't be winning any beauty contests any time soon. She had been able to wash somewhat in the small creek that ran through the back of the property, but she had never allowed herself long on the off-chance of a sudden Nazi ambush. Nonetheless, brief form of washing had made her feel better, if only to get the Nazi blood off of her hands and arms.
"You mentioned a Lieutenant Raine?" she said to them, adjusting the strap of the machine gun that hung from her shoulder.
The soldier nodded.
"Aldo Raine?"
He nodded again. "He sent us out to look for you. Didn't give us a name though."
She smiled and introduced herself, holding out a dirty hand, "Elsie."
"Wilhelm," the man with the accent introduced, as he shook it, "And this is Hirschberg."
The shorter of the pair gave a nod.
"I was a little confused at first," she explained, "Because of your accent. German?"
"Austrian," he replied, before adding, "Originally."
She nodded, now recognizing the source, and then went on, "So, how do you let Aldo know–"
"WE'VE GOT HER!" Hirschberg shouted, cutting her off. He looked back at her and offered a reassuring smile.
The air was starting to get cold as night approached. Wilhelm looked at Elsie and her torn dress, and passed his gun to Hirschberg, taking off his coat and draping it over her shoulders. She was grateful for the warmth and felt a little more decent in front of the men; one of the sleeves of the dress had torn completely so that it hung down, showing more skin than she was comfortable with.
Heavy footsteps approached from the row of trees to their right. The three turned to see who it was. An enormous man emerged, glancing left and right, before spotting them. He was thick with muscle and looked like he could just about rip one of the trees out by the roots if he wanted to.
"Donny, where are the others?" Hirschberg asked, as the large man came towards them.
"How the fuck should I know?" he replied with a heavy Boston accent. He hadn't taken his eyes off of the girl. He looked her over for any visible injuries as he reached the two soldiers, and then glanced back up to meet her deep-green eyes. The greasy locks of hair that framed her grimy face looked auburn colored, but that could have been the blood in it, if there was any; he couldn't tell just from looking at her, but there was certainly enough splattered on her clothes to suggest it.
"Can you walk?" he asked.
"Sure," she replied.
"Alright, then let's go," he told them.
Wilhelm and Hirschberg marched ahead as their sergeant walked beside their acquired target.
"Sergeant Donny Donowitz," he introduced.
"Elsie Marigold," she replied.
"Marigold?"
"Yeah. Like the flower. Everyone seems to think it means I'm bright and cheerful."
"They wouldn't if they came for a stroll through here," Donny told her. He had come across a lot of bodies scattered throughout the trees; all Nazis, of course, and all in various stages of decomposition. "Nice job, though."
A week ago she would have been horrified at the idea of taking a human life, but after everything she had been through she took his words as a compliment. As they reached the spot where Aldo was standing, the other soldiers already there with him, the group of four came to a halt. Aldo smiled down at her in his odd half-frowning kind of way.
"Well, Elsie, you look a helluva lot older than when I last saw ya."
"I would hope so, since I was, what, thirteen going on fourteen?" she replied.
The soldiers behind him were observing her with interest, as was Donny from beside her. They hadn't seen a woman for months.
"Yeehh-p, yer a big girl now. Not so bad at killin' Nazis, either, which is why I got a proposition for ya," Aldo told her, stepping forward and putting an arm around her shoulder, glancing down at the machine gun by her hip. He led her towards the front of the estate, stepping through the blackened ruins of what had once been her home.
"I like what you've done with the place," he began.
Elsie glanced down at the ashes around her feet and raised an eyebrow at him.
"Nah, I don't mean this," he said, kicking a burnt piece of timber, "I'm talkin' 'bout the redecoratin' you've been doin'. It shows real courage, independence..."
He stopped at the severed head by the front entrance and took his arm off her shoulders. He glanced at the head, then at the beheader and continued, "But most of all you've shown that you got real potential."
"Potential for what?" she asked as she turned to him.
Glancing at the group of men behind her, she saw they were all smiling at their lieutenant. They seemed to agree.
"Nazi-killin'," Aldo said simply.
"I hadn't realized it had become a sport already," she joked. A couple of the soldiers chuckled.
"Oh, it has," Aldo said with earnest, "And you happen to be lookin' at the best damn team in the league."
"What's your proposition then, Lieutenant?"
"How would you like to be a Basterd?" he asked her.
"According to the Nazis I killed, I'm already a bitch," she replied. There was more laughter behind her.
"Is that a yes?"
Looking at the familiar face of her old family friend, and the encouraging faces of his men behind him, she could think of worse options than joining a team that specialized in the extermination of Nazi soldiers. She gave him a nod.
"Yes, sir."
"You'll be a soldier yet, Marigold."
She winced at how absurd her surname sounded in the context.
"One thing, though, sir."
"What's that?" Aldo asked her.
"Could you call me something other than 'Marigold'? It just doesn't sound right."
"How's 'bout the name the Germans've christened you?"
She was unaware of this development.
"What are they calling me?"
"Henker."
She smiled. She could understand German, and she liked the sound of that.