“I have to go now,” she whispered and glared at the nurse, “one of the three witches from Macbeth has arrived and I must get back to work. When you feel better, we will talk and begin to see where this takes us.”
He watched her slender figure as she departed. Like many young women she wore a skirt that came to mid calf, and what a lovely calf it was. He had no idea why some thought Elise was plain or skinny. He thought she was a lithe young goddess. And she liked him. He would concentrate on getting better.
General Nolan walked up to Luke’s desk. A mountain of paperwork was stacked on it, consisting of transcripts of interrogations of refugees and the rare prisoner. They stated the obvious and didn’t need an intelligence officer to analyze them.
Nolan glanced at the unread documents and smiled wickedly. “Congratulations, you’ve been breveted to captain for your work down south and in particular, Los Angeles. Destroying those refineries was a stroke of genius. Now you can start destroying those papers.”
He handed Luke a set of captain’s bars and Luke put them on. He thought he’d be eighty before he made captain. Funny what a war can do, even if it was only a temporary rank.
“I have to give Montoya credit for destroying the refineries. He knew where they were and it was his idea.”
“Montoya appears to be a good man and we’re glad he’s on our side, even if he is a Mexican. I’ve got to remember that we’ve got Germans, like Ike Eisenhower, working for us, and that a lot of Mexicans north of the border hate the ones south of the border. Still, it was you who agreed with Montoya and you who led the raid. And already the loss of oil is playing hell with the Krauts’ plans. In other words, Luke, we finally did something right. We’ve intercepted word that the Germans have told their warships to cut down on fuel usage, and that Admiral Hipper is requesting fuel tankers be sent from Germany or wherever the hell the Kaiser can find them. Admiral Sims and Liggett are discussing plans to do something about that as well.”
Luke was too tactful to remind Nolan that Dwight Eisenhower, like millions of other Americans, was of German extraction, but not German born. Newly-promoted captains do not argue with newly-promoted generals.
“And Luke, I’m genuinely sorry you haven’t heard anything about that woman you met down there. The fact that you haven’t heard anything could actually be good news.”
Luke agreed but didn’t want to talk about it, which Nolan understood. He’d asked those in the intelligence division to keep an eye out for survivors of the train attack, so just about everyone knew something had gone wrong with his personal life. So much for privacy, he thought.
Along with sharing working quarters, the Army and Navy shared support personnel. One of the more helpful staffers was a rather plainish young woman named Elise Thompson who, Luke understood, was seeing a young ensign who was currently in the hospital after being shot up in a raid.
She walked over, smiled slightly, handed him a folded piece of paper and winked. Nolan left and Luke read the note: Conference Room B, was all it said.
Puzzled, he turned towards Elise who smiled, flushed and looked away. All right, it was not going to be an assignation with the ensign’s thin girlfriend. He got up and walked down the short hallway to Conference Room B. He knocked and entered and nearly fell over.
“Kirsten?”
Instinctively, he reached out his hands and she came into his arms. They hugged and he kissed her on the forehead. He wanted to do more, but she pulled back. She looked like hell. Her clothes, jeans, and blouse, were filthy and torn and her hair was a mess. The bruise on her face was receding but still multicolored, like summer storm clouds.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, meaning it.
“And you’re blind, soldier,” she said, laughing. “Ah, you’ve been promoted. Wonderful.”
“How did you get here?”
They sat at the conference table and she told him that she and Maria had started walking the morning after burying Ella. The general idea was to head north since the Germans would, sooner or later, be coming from the south. After a day of that, they’d managed a ride on a truck that took them to Bakersfield where they’d jumped on a flatcar and ridden the train up to San Francisco. She said the flatcar was covered with refugees like her and there were many flatcars, all jammed with people.
“At least the engineer kept the speed down. Otherwise people would have flown off as we went around turns. I got off as close to here as I could, but it was still across the bay and I had to take a ferry. Maria’s decided to stay with some relatives, so I’m now alone. My feet hurt, I’m filthy, and I need a bath. And after that, I’ll need a place to live. It’s just too cold and rainy to camp out in the park. I do have some money, so I’m not destitute.”
Sleeping in the park was not a facetious comment. Many of the parks were filled with tents, and chaos was starting to take over. Liggett had said he was on the verge of declaring martial law, and the hell with what Sonny Jim Rolph, the mayor of San Francisco or what William Stevenson, governor of California, thought. The city was sliding towards anarchy and something had to be done. In the meantime, there were housing shortages along with concerns about food.
“Would you settle for dinner while I figure this out?”
There was a knock on the door and Elise entered. She saw they were holding hands and smiled. “Mrs. Biel, I couldn’t help but wonder if you’re looking for a place to live? If you are, I have an apartment available since my so-called roommates just left for the north. It’s not majestic or anything, but it does have two beds and a bath.”
Kirsten smiled. “Do you read minds?”
Elise laughed. “It was too obvious. Admiral Sims and General Liggett said I should take some time and get you settled. And you, Captain Martel, General Nolan says you should get back to work on that pile of papers.”
Roy Olson looked and saw yet another corpse swinging in the breeze. The Germans had stopped shooting people. It wasted ammunition. Hanging was much cheaper and leaving the body dangling was a very dramatic warning. This one was blackened by the sun and its face had been chewed to the bone by birds. It looked as if it had been there for several days. The dead man was one of the two remaining Dubbins boys. Olson’s deputies had caught him and the German, Steiner, had strung him up.
Steiner came out of his office and greeted Olson outside. Olson was always amazed how German officers could keep their uniforms so immaculate. Olson was dusty from a hard ride in from his ranch. They walked to a large barbed-wire corral in which several hundred men, white men, sat and stared at them. Most of them wore civilian clothes and only a handful were dressed in any kind of uniform. Some were angry, exuding hate, and some looked blank and fearful.
“Who the hell are these guys?” Olson asked.
“Your workforce. These are prisoners taken in the Los Angeles campaign and you will use them to perform the menial duties that used to be done by the residents of the area until they all ran away. It has already been pointed out to the prisoners that they are fortunate to be alive since they were irregulars and could have been shot as terrorists.”
Fortunate indeed, Olson thought. The swinging corpse was proof that the Germans played rough with anyone who opposed them. He noticed a number of Mexican guards around the prisoners. Steiner saw him looking and smiled. “And that is your security force. One hundred Mexicans along with the twenty ignorant barbarians you call your deputies ought to be enough to keep the prisoners in line. An early execution or two might be impressive as well.”