After a laborious 30 minute journey on a packed out double-decker bus, the girls and the Basterds finally arrived at their destination. All of them welcomed the fresh, crisp wind that whipped at their hair, for the bus had been unbearably stuffy due to the overcrowded conditions. Sybil had compared it to being like sardines crammed into those tiny little cans they were sold in, and the rest of the group agreed with her wholeheartedly. A rare occurence indeed.
The town centre was a lot smaller than the Basterds had imagined it would be. In fact, it was more resemblant of an industrial estate with a small market in the middle. Where were all the department stores, the cafes, the restaurant and even the ice cream bars they were used to seeing in the US? What they had failed to realise, however, was that this was not a city centre. If you wanted any of these things you'd have to pop into a street car and go all the way to Manchester or even Liverpool. This little town square was where the locals shopped to gather their bits and bobs, or else have a good time at the ballroom or one of the many pubs that lined the little side streets.
But the main focus of their attention this evening was the building that was directly opposite the bus stop.
It was an old, dilapidated warehouse which had once been the centre of the community during the booming cotton industry. And outside the building in big, bold white letters stood the building's name 'The Grosvenor Picture Palace'. The Basterds were less than impressed with the grotty building and emitted inaudible sighs as they longed for the bright and pristine skyscrapers of America. It appeared to them that everything in this damp, miserable country was underwhelming and lacking. Even the slums of Boston and New York weren't as bad as this. At least this was what Donny thought anyway, though whether this was true or not made little difference to him. He had already made his mind up on the matter. But they all put on a brave face as the girls beamed proudly at them, and hid their disappointment as they accompanied them across the bustling road, hoping above all hope that the night's entertainments would make up for the lack of venue.
The merry squadron filed down the narrow aisles of the cinema theatre after being ushered in by an elderly man who looked as though he wished he were anywhere but here. He was growing increasingly ratty as he tottered past the rows of seats, continually shushing the giggling girls and bawdy boys as the whole crowd began to hiss at the screen. An image of Adolf Hitler popped up in the newsreel. Omar became almost entranced by the giant face upon the screen and wondered what it would be like to kill the Führer. He would die a happy man if he could be the one to personally put an end to the tyrannous reign of that Jew hating mass murdering maniac.
Eventually the group had managed to settle themselves down in the back three rows of the theatre. Since the cinema was so full the group had to split off into pairs and trios in order to find seats within close proximity of one another.
Omar, Utivich and Hirschberg sat in front of the rest of the group and fell silent as soon as the opening music began to play, becoming totally engrossed by the film. Wicki and Stiglitz sat at the end of the penultimate row, conversing with each other in their native tongues and making many of the other cinema goers feel uneasy, causing them to shift in their seats in order to strain their ears and detect whether the language they spoke was indeed German as they believed it was. Wicki could barely keep his focus on the movie however, and every now and then he would turn around in his seat and flash Lily a smile, for Lily and Donny were sitting behind them. Every now and then Donny would kick the back of their chairs in an effort to shut them up but soon stopped when Stiglitz turned around and gave him a deathly cold stare. Donny knew better than to provoke Hugo and would rather be fighting along side him than against him. Jean and Eve were sat on the opposite end of Lily's row and were whispering in each other's ears, giggling like idiots every time Gary Cooper appeared on the screen. Behind them sat Zimmerman and Sakowitz, who were scoping the place out for pretty girls. And what Sybil and Aldo were doing as they sat on the back row of the theatre is up best left unsaid in a T rated story.
It was about half way through the movie when Donny started to fidget nervously as he began to wonder how he should approach flirting with the young lady by his side. After all, he had been on the receiving end of a slap many a time because he pulled the wrong move on a girl and he didn't fancy upsetting someone who had a friend like Sybil. Finally he came up with a plan.
"You look cold. D'ya want my jacket?" he offered, noticing there was a draft in the air. But before she even had chance to reply he was already slipping one arm out of the sleeve of his bomber jacket in an attempt to be chivalrous. He could be quite the gentleman when the mood took him and he wanted to woo Lily properly. Well, until she was ready to put out for him anyway.
"I'm fine thanks" she assured him, placing a hand upon his arm to stop him from making any further efforts to remove his jacket and disturbing the rest of the audience. She had noted that some had already taken against them, hearing mutterings of "rude, inconsiderate gits" and "typical Yanks." And she couldn't help but fake a hiccough when she heard the random murmurings of what sounded like "I swear Doris, they're bleeding Gerries, they are!"
"You sure?" Donny continued to pester her, albeit all in good humour as his broad smile began to take up half of his face. She couldn't help but chuckle at his persistance.
"I'm sure. Anyway, if you want to offer it to anyone, I'd give it to Sybil. She's so cold that she needs Aldo's hands to keep her warm" she stated, inclining her head towards the back of the room. And sure enough, Donny turned around to see Sybil with her mouth clamped over Aldo's as though she were sucking the life out of him. And both of their hands were in places where they ought not be, especially in such a public place.
Donny and Lily did well to suppress their giggles at the cutting remark, with Donny leaning his head into Lily's and laughing into her hair whilst she in turn buried her head into his shoulder. She couldn't help but inhale the mixture of leather, fragrant talcum and woody blend of aftershave that made up Donny's scent. She rather liked it. Eventually the two managed to calm down and after composing themselves, exchanging sly smirks in the process, they resumed watching the movie.
"So who's your favourite movie star?" she inquired as she looked up at the striking image of Gary Cooper staring back down at them from the screen.
"Jane Russell" was his instantaneous reply, but realising that the response made him appear like a lecher he quickly added "And I like Humphrey Bogart too. What about you?"
"Greta Garbo" she confessed.
"You look like her a bit, you know" he complimented. Well, she may not have been her exact doppelganger but she certainly had elements of her looks, particularly when Garbo was younger and blonde. She had her hair styled in a similar fashion and her pale blue eyes were framed by beautifully long lashes. But in all actuality Donny thought that Lily was a lot prettier than Miss Garbo, with her sultry full lips and delicately upturned button nose. And he was determined to have her.
"Don't be daft" she dismissed with a nervous chuckle, thankful for the dim lighting of the cinema as her face flushed bright red. But Donny furrowed his brow in curiosity at the discovery of this new, foreign word.
"Daft? What's daft?" he queried, his American twang making the word sound more exotic than what it actually was.
But just as Lily was just about to explain the meaning to him there was an interruption in the guise of a woman making her way to the front of the theatre.
"Ladies and gentleman, might I have your attention for a moment" a petite and rosy-cheeked usherette announced in a rather important manner as she stood in the middle of the screen, blocking a close up of Joan Leslie. "The air raid siren is going off and we recommend that you evacuate the theatre and make your way to Redgate Lane shelter. However, you are more than welcome to remain here and the film will run as usual"
There was a unison of groans and grumbles, and more than one person shouted "Bloody Hitler!" in a bid to be patriotic.
"Every time we go to the movies, every bloody time!" the voice of Jean could be heard rambling from the other side of the room as she and Eve pushed impatiently past those who had decided to brave it and watch the rest of the movie out.
"Come on, we'd better get going" Lily announced as she took hold of Donny's hand and led him down the aisle as the rest followed after them, making them reminiscence of an army convoy trooping outside the building and into the underground shelter on Redgate Lane.
In the meanwhile, in the air space over Lancashire, England...
"Now are you sure you remember what your duties are, Private Zoller?" the handsome blonde lieutenant demanded as he tried to make his voice heard over the groaning whirs of the plane engines alongside the whistling wind that whooshed around their ears from the newly opened cockpit door.
Fredrick Zoller, bright eyed and baby faced, didn't know where to look. Good manners and respect demanded that he should look his commanding officer squarely in the eye. However, he couldn't help but glance down at the inky landscape below as they flew across the night sky over England. He wondered how long it would take him to fall to his death should his parachute fail him and then gulped deeply, trying to emit the thought from his mind completely.
"Yes sir" was his obedient reply. His stomach a mixture of nervous butterflies and eager anticipation. He couldn't believe he was about to enter enemy territory. No matter what happened to him after he left this plane, he was going to be remembered as a hero of the Reich. Although whether this would become a posthumous legacy was left to be unseen. And he for one couldn't wait to discover the outcome.
"Here are your papers" the lieutenant announced.
As he leant over, Zoller received an envelope of pristine documents wrapped up in string which had been folded three times so that it would fit neatly into his jacket pocket. He undid the string and opened the envelope, studying the papers within. He was rather taken with his new identity card, which included a brown hued photo of him in his new Polish airman uniform. He looked as surly in the photo as he was now staring down at it, still unable to come to terms with the ugly uniform. A generally sweet but rather vain boy, Fredrick couldn't help but sulk about not being able to wear his beloved German uniform which he thought was much more dashing. The German and French girls certainly seemed to think so anyway. They swarmed around him like flies when he walked around the town in it. He couldn't imagine the English girls being very impressed with him wearing this piece of tat.
"Pawel Brzezicki" he read the name under the photo out loud.
Apparently his new name was now Pawel Brzezicki and he was born on the 7th January 1915. The lieutenant decided to fill him in on the rest of the subsequent information of his new personae. If Zoller was going to pull this off, he needed to be well informed of his new life down to the very last detail. The English would try anything to catch him out if they could.
"You're a member of 308 'Krakowski' Polish fighter squadron. You defected to Britain in July 1940 and were stationed in Blackpool. You are currently on sick leave after sustaining injuries to your arm during a mission over norther France" the lieutenant relayed.
"My Parent's names?" Zoller questioned as he continued to quickly glance through the papers, not being able to see any of that particular information on the documents in his hand. Although if he would have looked harder he would have seen that they were there in the fifth paragraph of his debrief. His anxiety and the high altitude was turning his brain to mush already, he could barely read straight and the words flew over his head.
"Miroslaw and Kornelia. You also have a sister called Sybilla. And until recently you lived in Mistrzejowice, Krakow" the lieutenant stressed in a slow and concise manner in order to help entrain it into the young private's mind. Fredrick mouthed it wordlessly back at him.
"And what do I do if I come across any Poles?" he suddenly remembered, looking up at the man with his innocent doe eyes that could break even the hardest of hearts. Well almost all, for the lieutenant certainly had a heart of ice and it would take more than a soft look to melt it.
"I thought you were fluent in Polish?" the lieutenant's eyes began to bulge at this new piece of information. Was the boy being serious?
"No, I said I was fluent in French, I picked up a bit of Polish when I was in Warsaw but..."
"Nevermind that!" the lieutenant snapped, "just insist you speak English. Tell them it makes you look less like spies or some nonsense" was his angry response.
How could they have gotten someone who wasn't even fluent in the language he was meant to be imitating. Surely headquarters wouldn't have ignored the possibility that young Zoller might encounter a Pole during his time in Britain, for the airforce was over run with genuine Polish airmen who defected from the now Nazi occupied territory. Was this man unknowingly embarking upon a suicide mission because that was what it was fast turning into.
"But surely they can tell by my accent that I'm..." Fredrick began, trying to highlight the danger he was facing. Sure he could do the stereotypical Polish accent but if there were any Poles around they would expose him as the spy he was. He sounded about as Polish as Bridget von Hammersmark sounded English.
"Then you shoot them" was the lieutenant's blunt, cold reply. He was getting rather sick of this pesky boy trying to undermine his authority and had a good mind to push him out of the plane with no parachute. Luckily for Fredrick, however, he was an integral part of the war campaign and couldn't be risked just to appease the lieutenant's ego. Instead, the lieutenant merely took a deep, calming breath and resumed with the rest of the debrief to which Zoller replied with one worded answers and brief nods of the head.
That was how the lieutenant liked it. Short and sweet.
"Good luck, private Zoller" were his final parting words to the young man as he did a last minute check on his uniform and parachute.
"Thank you sir. Heil Hitler!" and as regular as clockwork he stuck his right arm out into the Nazi salute whilst simultaneously clicking his heels together. The lieutenant returned his salute before making way for Private Zoller to make his jump. Fredrick carefully toed the threshold of the plane, with the cold night air gushing in and disturbing the hair on his head. After securing his goggles over his eyes he took a deep breath and looked straight out before him.
It was now or never, he thought.
Two hours later and the Basterds and girls were still stuck down in the air raid shelter under Redgate Lane. Everybody in there was beginning to grow restless now, for the place was beginning to smell of piss and sweat and the air was growing humid. Not only that, but the pitter patter of water droplets dripping against a metal pipe was starting to drive more than one person mad and the constant bombardment of explosives from above was making everybody nervous.
"How do you put up with this?" Omar flinched after a particularly loud bomb exploded near by causing the ground beneath them to shake. He began to withdraw into himself and rested his chin on his knees. Eve threw him a compassionate look and gave him a pat on the shoulder in an effort to keep up his spirits. That was the way things worked down here. A pat on the shoulder might not seem much but it showed that you were being thought of and Omar appreciated the kind gesture.
"Aren't you scared" Donny inquired of Lily as he watched how perfectly stoic and composed she looked huddled into the corner next to him. She was now nestled safely beneath his jacket, which she had begrudgingly accepted after his continued insistence.
"A little" she confessed sheepishly, as though it were a foolish thing to be frightened during an air raid, "but I just try to think about something else" she admitted.
At the moment she clung to childhood memories of herself at Blackpool with her family during the early 30s. The people around them now were not townies trying to seek shelter during a war but were fellow holidaymakers frolicking at the seaside beside her. The dripping water was not from a faulty piping network but was actually the waves in the sea. And the bombs overhead were not bombs at all, but rather part of a firework display that was lighting up the sky during the illuminations. And so vivid were her daydreams that she swore she could taste the sea salt in the air and felt the grains of sand between her toes.
"Like what?" Donny inquired, bringing her back to reality. She looked up at him blankly for a moment, as though she suspected he was trying to make fun of her. Well, she wasn't about to reveal her innermost thoughts and feelings to just anybody, especially not in a public bomb shelter, so she decided to change the subject.
"Tell me about where you're from" she insisted, all thoughts of Blackpool illuminations had changed to the bright lights of Broadway and Hollywood. How she would love to go there one day.
"You want to know about Boston?" was Donny's shocked reply, clearly taken aback that she was interested in his home town. But before either of them could continue on with the conversation an earth shattering boom disrupted them. It sounded like a bomb had landed directly over them and the light above flickered dangerously as bits of plaster and tin fell from the ceiling, leading to a choir of screams around them. Lily had lost all dignity now and after exhaling a tearful whimper she grabbed hold of Donny's arm, clenching on to it with all her might.
"Don't worry, I've got you" he whispered into her ear, covering her head with his arms and planting a kiss in her hair as he too buried his head low in order to make sure nothing landed on him and knocked him out.
There was a deathly silence for a moment as the shelter lights flicked on, then off and then back on again. There was now a fine layer of dust in the atmosphere which was the consequence of the bomb disturbing the environment. People began to uncover themselves and check the room around them. Had everyone made it? Had the bomb even hit them? A few let out a splutter or cough as they tried to avoid inhaling in the dust, but most lifted their heads up in thanks with mutterings of "that was a close one, wasn't it!" But it was only Sybil's grating voice that led Donny and Lily to withdraw from their safe retreat.
"Someone's getting awfully cozy over there!" she remarked, earning a few titters from Eve and Jean who were throwing approving glances Lily's way as they wiped the dust and debris from off their shoulders. This was going all too perfectly for them and their little plans. But before Lily had a chance to wipe the smiles of their faces, she was interrupted by a new voice that pipped up,
"Oi, get your hands of my sister!"
"Jack?" Lily dared to exclaim.
Surely it couldn't be?
Their mother was funny enough about Lily going out in the evening with her friends but there was no way on Earth that she would let her twelve year old son go out into town on his own. Especially not after dark and certainly not when there was a war going on. But sure enough, there was the freckled face of her brother lodged between the air warden and a bespectacled gentleman who appeared to be a prestigious banker, well suited in a bowler hat and carrying a rather large umbrella. "What are you doing here?" was her dumb response, her mouth agape in growing confusion.
"Went to the pictures" was his simple reply as he looked down guiltily at the floor trying to avoid her gaze. He knew he was in for it now.
"On your own? But..." and then it struck her. "Have you been spying on me, you little toe rag!" her voice began to tremble in anger.
"It's not my fault!" he protested in mock innocence, "Mam wanted to make sure you didn't get up to owt* with them lot" he indicated, pointing to the American soldiers and for the first time all evening Lily suddenly felt very self conscious about herself. Jack had seen her cavorting and cuddling with Donny and no matter how innocent the contact was, she knew her brother was a little tattle tale who would tell their mother everything. Lily immediately jumped up from her seat and marched over to her him, grabbing hold of his wrist and dragging him over to where the girls were sitting. Wicki politely stood up and offered her his seat, to which she thanked him with a courteous nod of the head.
"I'll bloody brain her, I will. And don't smirk at me or I'll brain you an' all " she warned, pushing Jack down roughly so he was now wedged between herself and Jean. A punishment that he didn't mind so much as he had a soft spot for the lovely and luscious redheaded Jean.
"Looks like we've got the all clear" the air warden called out in the midst of the kerfuffle and no sooner had he spoke that the whole population of the shelter made a surge forward to try and escape this hell hole. As the Basterds and the girls walked out, they saw a piece of shrapnel imbedded into the door of the shelter and commented on the damage it would cause if it went through a human. A thought that made the girls shudder.
"I hope the buses haven't been hit or else we're never getting home" Jack complained in dismay as they began the ascend up the rubble covered steps.
"That's the least of your worries, buster" Lily reminded him, nipping the back at his neck in reminder of how much trouble he was in.
But as soon as they exited the shelter, the sight of an orange and yellow glow against an indigo backdrop told them that this night's particular bombing raid had been a bad one and that the buses wouldn't be up and running for a good couple of hours yet.
"Come on, I'd better get you back home" Lily sighed impatiently, "See you later girls. Bye fellas" she bid them farewell with a brief wave of her hand before she took hold of Jack's and proceeded to walk down the lane, readying herself for what would be a good hours walk. The girls were about to protest about her abandoning them but someone cut in before they had the chance to air their complaints.
"Wait! I'll walk you home if you like" Donny offered, running after her and the boy much to the amusement of the rest of the gang who did little to hide their thoughts. The girls shot each other knowing glances and mischievous smirks whilst the Basterds all hollered and muttered crudely to each other under their breath. But whilst everybody was secretly happy that Donny was actively attempting to court Lily, with perhaps the exception of a still despondent Wicki, Jack was certainly not amused that his sister had an American admirer. He turned around and got ready to dig his finger into Donny's chest.
"Let's clear a couple of ground rules first. Number one, no loitering. Number two, no holding hands and number three, definitely no kissing" he instructed, for which he received a light hearted tap around the head from Lily for being so cheeky. Even Donny couldn't help but grin at the boy's forthrightness.
"Here" and with that Donny plonked his weekly ration of chewing gum and half a packet of cigarettes into the boy's hand, "Stay fifteen steps in front of us and don't look back" he warned him, giving Jack a firm push in the back in order to set him on his way. But Jack was not one for taking orders so good naturedly and so he turned back around, ready to give his usual back chat.
"Or else what?" he dared him, pushing his face as close to Donny's as was physically possible for a 5 ft 3 boy against a 6 foot tall man. Donny, now beginning to grow sick of this little runt, decided to sort him out once and for all. He turned to Lily and rolled his eyes back in an effort to catch the boy off guard and then suddenly grabbed at him, pulling him by the collar of his shirt. Jack did his best to beat him off with flailing fists but failed to make much of an impact.
"Or else you'll end up with a fat lip, now fuck off!" he spat and as soon as he let go of his collar, Jack proceeded to fly through the air again and landed off balance on his feet. Lily swore she heard Jack mutter something beneath his breath but brushed it off as childish petulance.
And with that, all three of them made the long journey back home, with Jack leading the way whilst Lily and Donny chatted away arm in arm in the distance.