“Pick one,” Schrupp urged. “Or I’ll pick one for you.”
Kurt glared at him, then looked back through the peephole. There were blonde girls, brown-haired girls, dark-haired girls… all Germanic. It made him wonder how they’d managed to wind up in the brothel, although he supposed the pay would actually be quite high. The officers wouldn’t want a Gastarbeiter woman who’d been thrown out by her masters and sold to a brothel. And one of the dark-haired girls was quite pretty…
“Number twelve,” he said.
“Right this way, Mein Herr,” the woman said. She glanced at Schrupp. “I’ll be back in a moment for your choice, my dear.”
Kurt could feel his heart racing in his chest as the woman opened a door and showed him into a room. It was larger than his bedroom at home, dominated by a giant four-poster bed that looked as though it had been dragged out of a museum. The sheets looked clean – he hoped, desperately, that they were changed between visitors. A side door opened into a small bathroom, with a shower, a toilet and a notice warning him to be careful how much water he used. It was so out of place that it made him smile. But then, water supplies to the city were in danger of being cut off.
The door opened. He turned, just in time to see the girl step into the room. She’d donned a silk dressing gown that clung to her curves in all the right places, hinting at the shape of her body rather than revealing bare skin. She carried a tray in one hand, holding a small bottle and a pair of glasses. Kurt found himself staring helplessly as she placed the tray on the mantelpiece and then turned to smile at him. It made him feel as though he wanted to melt.
“Well,” she said. “Is this your first time?”
“Yeah,” Kurt stammered. He wasn’t ashamed of being a virgin, even though he had had girlfriends in school. His father had been right. He had been in no position to marry until after he’d completed his education. “Here and… and everywhere.”
She smiled. “I understand,” she said. She patted the bed with one hand. “Please, sit. We have all the time in the world.”
Kurt sat, feeling conflicted. She – he didn’t even know her name – was beautiful, the most beautiful girl he’d seen. He hadn’t been close enough to any of his girlfriends to do more than kiss them; he’d certainly not been allowed to touch their breasts or slip his hand into their panties. The recruits at the barracks had bragged, when the lights were out, of their exploits, but he’d just remained silent. His father had also told him that most men lied through their teeth about sex.
The girl leaned forward and kissed his lips, her dressing gown coming undone and falling open to reveal her bare breasts. Kurt stared, his hands jerking forward to touch them. He’d never seen bare breasts, not outside a handful of magazines his father had beaten him for possessing. They certainly hadn’t been real. But now… they felt soft and warm against his hand, welcoming…
“You have all night,” the girl whispered, as she started to undo his shirt. “Lie back and enjoy it.”
“Start setting up the defence lines,” Hauptsturmfuehrer Hennecke Schwerk ordered, as they slowly took up position outside Berlin. “And keep a close watch on our approaches.”
“Jawohl, Herr Hauptsturmfuehrer.”
Schwerk smirked as his subordinates scurried to do his bidding. The company under his command might have been thrown together in a hurry – the remains of his former unit combined with two others – but he found it hard to care. He’d been promoted! None of his family had ever been promoted in combat, let alone been given command of a scratch unit in the middle of a war. The company might be far from perfect – very few of the men had trained together – but they’d learned fast as they continued the march towards Berlin.
They’re pleased with me, he thought, as he touched his new rank insignia. And I won’t let them down.
He peered through the darkness towards Berlin. Even in the darkness – the city had blacked out most of its lights – it was clear that Berlin was far larger than any city he’d seen, far larger than Germanica itself. A sprawling nightmare, according to the map; a maze of government buildings, residential areas, factories, transit barracks and everything else a modern city needed to remain alive. Berlin had never been rebuilt, unlike Moscow; there was no order to the city at all. And yet, the defenders had already started to dig into the city. Fighting their way into Berlin was going to be a nightmare.
We can do it, he thought, coldly. He was damned if he was conceding anything to the enemy, not now. And they won’t be able to stop us.
A gunshot cracked out, far too close to him for comfort. He ducked down, drawing his pistol with one hand as he searched frantically for targets. The westerners weren’t good at sneaking around, not like the men and women who had grown up in a war zone, but a number of them had taken the risk of engaging the stormtroopers at night. Schwerk had rapidly come to learn that nowhere could be trusted completely, not even a seemingly-deserted campsite that looked perfect for a night. The sniping and IEDs were taking their toll on his men. And they, in turn, had taken it out on the civilians. Schwerk had watched, dispassionately, as prospective insurgents were hung; he’d turned a blind eye when a couple of his men had marched a female prisoner away from the camp for some fun. The insurgents and those who sheltered them deserved no less.
He stayed low as he peered into the darkness, but no more shots echoed through the air. The bastards were just trying to keep his men awake, rather than catching some desperately needed sleep. Chances were that whoever fired the shot was already well away from the camp, but no one would know for sure. Unless, of course, they stumbled across his body…
Bastard, he thought, as he rejoined his men. Tomorrow, the enemy would have nowhere to run. The stormtroopers were already surrounding Berlin, cutting off all routes in and out of the city. And you’ll soon be dead.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Berlin, Germany Prime
28 September 1985
“You really should not be up here,” Horst said, as Gudrun scrambled to the top of the ladder and peered into the distance. “There are snipers out there.”
“I owe it to my conscience to take some risks,” Gudrun snapped. They’d made up after their last argument, but even repeated lovemaking hadn’t been able to hide the fact that their first disagreement had never been fully resolved. “And I’m not in the front line.”
She ignored his snort as she peered towards the enemy lines. The SS had crept close to Berlin under cover of darkness, laying out their positions and digging trenches with a thoroughness she could only admire. Voss, from what she’d heard before they’d left the Reichstag, had admitted that the defenders didn’t have a hope of making a successful sally without being torn to ribbons. The SS lines were too strong. And the handful of shells they’d hurled into Berlin – already – was merely a taste of what they could do, if the city refused to surrender.
“Get down,” Horst ordered, sharply. “If they see you, they’ll take a shot at you.”
“They couldn’t hit anything at this distance,” Gudrun said. “And…”