Emaciated by the after-effects of disease and the terrors of the Russian Front, the medical Captain limped over and examined the medical miracle that was Hubert Aschmann.
Punctured in a dozen places, Aschmann had received the largest quantity of blood anyone in the experienced German medical facility could remember.
He was now without some God-given parts of his body, such as spleen, a portion of liver, part of his intestine, a thumb, an ear lobe, six teeth, and a testicle.
Bordered in red, the tag still affixed to the shredded remains of his tunic, informed anyone with half an eye that he had been close to the end, as if the state of the tunic itself was not enough evidence of his luck.
“Well, Herr Oberleutnant, you’ve been one hell of a lucky man.”
As he spoke, the doctor examined the wound sites, each revealed in turn by the beaming nurse.
“No infection… none whatsoever… testament to the pharmaceuticals supplied by our Allies… and the diligence of our nurses, especially Agnetha here.”
Her smile broadened with the clear recognition of her efforts by the unit’s top battle surgeon.
Speech for Aschmann was a studied affair, although he managed unexpected clarity.
“I’m thirsty.”
A glass of water magically appeared and the nurse held his head to allow him to savour the cold fluid.
“Thank you. How long have I been here, Doc?”
“Two days, give or take a minute or two. Nurse, I think this needs more frequent dressing.”
“It will be done, Herr Hauptmann.”
Aschmann looked extremely concerned, as Doctor Grüber had been fiddling with items of great importance to the as yet unmarried man.
“Calm yourself, Aschmann, don’t look so glum. It will still all work and will be hardly noticeable… provided our nurse gives the area the attention it deserves.”
Agnetha Folstein blushed heavily.
A noise behind the two clinicians grew into raucous laughter, and quickly drew out the different side of Hauptmann Grüber.
“Silence! What the hell do you think this is, a Scheisse kindergarten? It’s a hospital, now shut up or I’ll sign you off and send you back to fight the communists!”
The laughter dropped to sniggers immediately, sniggers that grew in volume until they manifested into the bandaged personas of Janjowski and Von Scharf.
“I’d watch this one I were you, Nurse Folstein. He’s a terror… and still available. I can protect you, of course.”
Aschmann laughed at Janjowski’s humour and went to playfully punch his arm, but failed miserably.
“Lie still, you fool!”
Hubert Aschmann took some time to examine his left arm and realised it was immobilised.
Grüber answered his question.
“You lost the thumb, and both the hand and arm are broken. Nothing dramatic, Oberleutnant, just messy, so I wanted it all immobilised… so there it is. Everything will work… given a little time, of which you’ll have plenty.”
He looked at the two waiting officers and decided on discretion.
“I’ll leave you three to it… but Nurse Folstein’s word is law, and if you give her any trouble, then I’ll hear about it. Klar?”
They mumbled their responses through smiles and waited until the Doctor had left the bedside.
Aschmann coughed a greeting, and felt pain shoot through his body.
“Steady, Hubert. I know you’re pleased to see me but stay calm, man!”
Another bout of coughing brought Aschmann time to conjure a response.
He first worked his jaw to make sure he would manage the words he had selected.
“Up yours, Kas.”
Janjowski sat on the bed, contrary to ward rules, resting his damaged leg, whilst Von Scharf placed an inflatable ring on a folding chair and lowered himself onto it with great care.
He caught Aschmann’s quizzical eye.
“If you say one fucking word, it’ll be the penal bataillons for you.”
Janjowski made a great play of hiding his mouth from view, but stage whispered so that even his words penetrated the bandaged head of a ‘Berlin’ Division Grenadier officer at the end of the ward.
“Hit in the ass. Can you believe it, eh? Managed to get all of his towering bulk into cover, but left his little button up so Ivan could put some shrapnel right on the bull’s eye.”
Von Scharf growled playfully.
“There are vacancies for Leutnants as well as Oberleutnants in the penal units… remember that before you flap your lips.”
“Excuse him, Hubert, he’s very tired.”
“Shut up, you schwein. How are you feeling, Aschmann?”
He could feel the stitches pull as he talked, so tried to move his jaw less.
For some reason, his companions ignored the resulting unintended comedy voice.
“Like shit to be honest. What happened on that fucking hill?”
“They hit us with a full regiment of Stalin’s Organs. We lost a lot of good boys.”
Their humour turned to silent regret as silent faces came into their minds.
“Keller?”
Von Scharf shook his head, displaying a smile that split him from ear to ear.
“He’s on another ward here. There’s a communal area where you can take in a cigarette and a drink… non-alcoholic of course… I ran into him there this very morning. He’s well… well… as well as can be expected. He got it in the back and legs. Not serious apparently. Schneider’s here too.”
Even though it hurt, he made sure his words were pronounced clearly.
“He did well in the battle, Herr Hauptmann. I’ll write him up as soon as…”
He went to hold up his left hand… and remembered he couldn’t.
“As soon as I’ve learned to write right-handed.”
“From what I hear, everyone did very well… except some idiotic swine who decided to go on an Olympic sprint just because he was pleased to see the boys in black grace the battlefield.”
Aschmann was on the cusp of biting, then realised his commander was simply baiting him.
“I confess… the excitement of seeing the death or glory Hussars simply overtook me, Herr Hauptmann.”
Serious for a moment, Von Scharf eased his damaged posterior and leant forward to squeeze Aschmann’s shoulder.
“It was a good effort, Hubert. A damn fine effort.”
That it had failed was also true, but not because of a lack of effort or a lack of bravery on Aschmann’s part.
“Anyone of the other rogues here, Herr Hauptmann?”
“Hauptmann Sauber is here. Not good. Part of our regimental headquarters was moving up and got caught in the barrage. I’ve heard that Bremer was badly wounded… not sure about that. Sauber’s very chewed up. Oh, and that Signaller Finze is here too. He’ll be getting a write-up from me… one of many.”
Janjowski pulled out a notebook and showed it to Aschmann.
“Without any testimonial from you or your company, I’ve already got seventy-six recommendations down here…”
Von Scharf cut in.
“I decided that Kasper needed gainful employment, so he’s collating all the reports for the Third Bataillon, seeing as most of it’s in the facility.”
There was no real humour in his statement.
“Third was flayed by the rocket strike. With those we lost repelling the attacks, the Bataillon is combat ineffective. In fact, there’s a rumour going round that the whole division is going to be broken up.”
“Why?”
“After we got swatted off the hill, the rest of the division got bogged down in some heavy fighting to the east. Shitty stuff, from what we hear. There’s quite a few of ours in here from the other units. Tales run from Soviet counter-attacks with waves of tanks, horrendous artillery, down to a terrible error by our RAF friends.”
“English bastards!”
The words were spat from the mouth of a bandaged man in the bed across from Aschmann.