Tanner took a deep breath and sighed. There were no words. He put his hand over hers and let her continue to cry. Finally, she shook her head. “Enough. We should get these people to a hospital.”
* * *
Ernie Janek decided that getting Winnie Tyler out on the boat again would be good therapy. They were now working close together and he could tell that she was withdrawn and haunted. The beating she’d taken from the Nazi, Hahn, had deeply affected her and it was more than physical. She looked frightened, and sudden noises startled her more than they should.
She hadn’t changed into her swimsuit. Instead she wore slacks and a long-sleeved blouse. She said the bruises were too ugly. She didn’t want him to see them, and she didn’t want to look on them and be reminded of her ordeal. He disagreed but kept quiet. From what he could see, the marks were going away but it would be a long while before they faded entirely. He was afraid it would take even longer before they faded from her mind.
“I’m stupid,” she said after lying on the deck and soaking up the sun for a while. “I guess I knew that danger was always present, but it was always in the background and something that happened to somebody else. Now I know better and I’m not too sure I like it and I don’t know what to do about it.”
Ernie sat down beside her. “Everybody goes into battle thinking they’re invincible. I know I sure did. Even after a couple of my buddies got killed, shot down by the Germans, I still felt it wouldn’t happen to me. Getting my butt shot down was my big epiphany. First, the canopy stuck for a few seconds, so I was afraid that I wouldn’t be able to get out of the plane. Then I prayed that my chute would open and when it did I whimpered like a baby when I landed and saw men with guns staring at me. I really thought I was going to die. Now I know it can happen to me. It can happen to anyone.”
“And to me,” she said softly. She rolled onto her elbow and looked over his shoulder. “Am I seeing things or is that a Swiss patrol boat headed towards us?”
It was and it came directly alongside. A grim-faced young ensign hopped on board. He was armed with a pistol holstered at his waist and two other crewmen had German-made submachine guns. He wasn’t certain, but they looked like MP34s. Since they weren’t pointed at him, it wasn’t important. True to the rules of neutrality, neither he nor Winnie was armed.
“Papers,” the ensign said in English and in a firm voice.
“Say please,” snapped Ernie.
“What?”
“I said say please. We are diplomats and you are supposed to treat us with courtesy and respect. Therefore, you should have said please,” Ernie said as he handed over his and Winnie’s passports. The man glared at him and muttered please while the two crewmen looked puzzled. Apparently they did not understand English.
The ensign looked over their papers and handed them back. “You do not look like diplomats.”
“And some of those Nazi thugs you permit to walk around Arbon do? Please do not insult me.”
“The Germans across the water, the ones you are pretending to not look at, have informed my country that they are annoyed by your continued presence. For some reason they think they are being spied on.”
“Then tell them to go away,” Ernie said. “We have as much right to be on this lake as they do. Let them come out in an unarmed little boat and maybe we’ll drink some schnapps together. We could even toast the fact that Hitler is rotting in hell.”
The ensign smiled tightly. “I would drink to that, although some of my countrymen would not. However, I do have my orders and they were to check you out. Having done that to my satisfaction, I will leave you to your sunbathing or fishing or whatever you’re pretending to be doing. I would warn you, however, that Germanica is now an armed camp filled with thousands of very nervous German soldiers. If someone should get in his mind to stop you from watching them, they have cannon that can easily reach this little boat.”
“Point taken, Ensign. When we’re through we’ll head back and stick much closer to the Swiss shore.”
“Then let me also remind you that the Germans are even more nervous than usual since some American units have made it to the northern shore of Lake Constance. While you might have diplomatic immunity, the Germans can’t see that and might think you are scouting them for an invasion.”
With that, the ensign stepped back on his own boat and went his way.
“That was interesting,” Winnie said after the patrol boat had departed. She ducked into the cabin and emerged in her swimsuit. “If the Germans are watching through their good Zeiss telescopes, they can see what they did to me.”
“You look great, Winnie, and I mean that.” He had not seen all of the bruises on her body, but even he could tell that they were healing. Still, she had taken one hell of a pounding. This Hahn son of a bitch hadn’t missed too much while he was kicking and punching her. It was a wonder that she had been able to walk, much less wait a night in German territory for him to show up and save her. Jesus.
She dived into the water and swam for a few strokes before climbing out. The water glistening on her body made her look like a goddess. “You know what they say, Ernie? That which doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. I can’t recall who said it, but I think it might have been a German. Let’s go back and you can buy me dinner while I quit feeling sorry for myself.”
* * *
This time George Schafer and Bud Sibre were part of a much larger force of American fighters and bombers flying over what the United States insisted was Germany, not what the State Department referred to as the pirate state of Germanica. Several dozen fighters were escorting an equal number of American bombers. There was little concern regarding the Luftwaffe. The German air forces had been almost totally destroyed. The real danger to the planes would come from the countless antiaircraft guns that covered the Brenner Pass and other parts of Germany’s Alpine Redoubt.
“Hey, Bud, try not to lose another plane.”
“Go to hell, Georgie.”
Bud had managed to nurse his wounded P51 until he was less than ten miles from their airfield. He’d bailed out and landed in a farmer’s field. The farmer and his wife had confronted him with a pitchfork and an ax. He had returned the favor by covering them with his.45 caliber pistol. The standoff had continued for about two hours until a truck with American soldiers in it showed up. The farmer and his wife had then become cordial and pro-American, professing that they had only tolerated Hitler because it was necessary to survive.
Bullshit, Bud thought.
At any rate, he’d been driven back to his base where he’d been subjected to some serious questioning. The fact that so many well-hidden guns were in the area was a problem. The German 88mm antiaircraft could hit high-flying bombers while the high-flying bombers could not hit small targets with precision unless they flew much lower. Flying lower, however, could prove fatal.
He’d been given a new plane with instructions that he was to take better care of this one. He’d endured too much ribbing from his so-called friends, although he understood that they were glad he’d made it.
This bombing run would involve no bombs. To the disgust of most of the pilots, they were to escort the bombers who would drop tons of leaflets on suspected German positions. The Allied command had even informed the Germans that this would be a paper run and not a bombing run. It was hoped that this would keep their superb 88s from killing them. The fighters were along to keep the Germans honest. Germans honest? They’d all laughed at that.
As they approached the scenic resort town of Innsbruck, bomb bay doors opened and a flood of papers fell out, falling downward like millions of white feathers, or snowflakes.
“Wow,” said George. “That’ll show the Krauts we’re serious about ending this war.”
“I am just stupendously impressed,” Bud said sarcastically. “It just kind of makes me want to surrender myself. With all that paper, they must know how desperate we are to go home.”