“Gabi, it’s time.”
“Papa, have you forgotten? We have to sing ‘Silent Night’ first.”
The general nodded and released a cough, although he knew no amount of throat clearing would improve the pitch of their singing as it was well known to all that both he and Gabi were tone deaf. And so they sang their off-key rendition of ‘Silent Night’ as they did every year.
“Now Gabi, you can start.”
She scanned the mound of gifts, selecting one that she had wrapped herself and handing it to Helmut, who studied it for some time before undoing the bow, unwrapping the paper, folding the paper and then inspecting the casing.
Gabi’s eagerness finally broke. “It’s a shaving set.”
Helmut opened the case and examined the implements through spectacles that no longer functioned as they should. He held each piece close to his nose, and his eyes crossed. “Solingen. It’s high quality, very fine indeed,” he said.
Next, she handed Chef his gift, an over-sized beer stein from the Hofbräuhaus in Munich.
“Is it a beer mug or a piss pot?” he asked.
Helmut scowled at him. “Such language in front of the General! You should keep your yokel comments to yourself.”
“So sorry, Herr General,” Chef said, bowing his head in shame.
The general chuckled at his affable cook, resolving the matter with an offhanded wave. He turned to Gabi, now seated on the arm of his chair, and watched as she placed a perfectly wrapped parcel on his lap.
The gift had cost Gabi the better part of her annual allowance and she was eager to gauge her father’s reaction; she never really knew what he liked or needed.
He pulled at the red satin ribbon and unfolded the delicate paper, allowing the gift to unfurl before a captivated audience. “It’s a handsome scarf. Thank you, my little soldier. I shall wear it tonight.” He kissed his daughter and placed a small, unwrapped box in her hand.
“What a beautiful box.”
“I hope you appreciate what is inside more,” he said, and he winked across at Helmut and Chef.
Gabi lifted the lid and gasped. “Oh, Papa, they’re stunning.” She placed the sapphire and diamond earrings on her lobes and waited, as always, for his approval.
“They were your mothers,” he said, and his eyes glistened….
The clock chimed.
“Good Lord—look at the time! We’d better get going or we’ll be late for Midnight Mass.”
In recent years, Gabi and her father had travelled by car, but tonight would be special. Chef and Helmut had repaired the old wooden sleigh and it stood in the courtyard, looking splendid in a fresh coat of red paint with sleek black trim. Gabi squealed at the sight of the restored sleigh.
“Oh Papa, it’s beautiful—just like it used to be—no, better.”
“Yes, I agree. Chef and Helmut have done an amazing job.”
“Papa, do you remember when we would take the sleigh through the forest to Midnight Mass? I would watch the moon follow us all the way, wishing it was Mama wanting to come along.”
“Yes, Gabi. It was special as it will be tonight.”
She thanked Helmut and Chef, leaving them both with a kiss before climbing into the sleigh and huddling under the blanket.
“Oh, Papa, this is the best Christmas ever!”
Hans and Kurt spent Christmas in Frankfurt. As young, single men, it was expected that they remain on the base while husbands and fathers were given leave to celebrate Christmas at home with their families. They didn’t mind; it meant bonuses in their pay packets and two extra days leave, so they settled in for a night of cards and a bottle of Jägermeister to instil some Christmas cheer.
It was late, and they had been drinking and playing cards for many hours. Kurt took a shot of schnapps, throwing his head back and savouring its effect. He glanced at Hans and spoke with slurred exaggeration. “My mother’s really pissed that I can’t spend Christmas with her and the family.”
“Mine too, but she’ll get over it. I promised to spend some time with her after the New Year.” Hans shuffled the cards and dealt to the players slumped at the table.
Otto and Willy puffed away industriously on cigars, squinting through a rank cloud that snaked its way to the light above and dispersed along the ceiling.
“God, that stuff stinks. Blow your smoke somewhere else,” Kurt said.
Otto puffed a cumulus plume in Kurt’s direction. “I’ll blow it up your arse if you don’t pick up.”
Kurt downed another schnapps, throwing the glass over his shoulder and waiting to hear it shatter. While the others turned to appraise the damage, Kurt continued to talk as though nothing had happened.
“Speaking of picking up,” he said, “does anyone have a lay for tonight?”
They all shook their heads.
Hans eyed Kurt suspiciously. “What are you up to?”
A knock rattled the room and a child-like smirk appeared on Kurt’s face—his Christmas surprise had arrived. He opened the door and beckoned the visitors to come inside. In trotted four young ladies of the night, scantily clad despite the cold. Hans shook his head and laughed; Otto and Willy couldn’t believe their luck.
“Merry Christmas, boys,” Kurt declared before grabbing one of the girls and nuzzling his face in her ample cleavage.
January 1940
New Year celebrations heralded a year of optimism and victory for a nation drunk on itself. Gabi returned to Fürstenfeldbruck, revelling in the workshop classes where she spent hours dismantling and rebuilding aircraft engines. Ever-eager to learn, she smuggled biscuits and cake pilfered from the academy kitchen into the hangars, enticing the veteran engineers and mechanics in exchange for knowledge. They looked forward to her visits, enjoying her company, her enthusiasm and her illicit treats. Captain Bauer and the other trainers were all impressed with her performance and recommended to the board that she be officially accepted as a student.
In these early months, Gabi befriended a pilot cadet who was soon to graduate. His name was Michael and he was a smart, likeable fellow with straw-blond hair and an infectious laugh. He had taken an interest in Gabi, and she suspected that it was of a romantic nature. But he was shy and probably inexperienced with girls so they spent most of their time together chatting about aircraft. She quizzed him endlessly on flight procedure and other technicalities, determined to know how to fly, even if only in theory.
They were at lunch one day, engaging in their usual small talk when Gabi took the opportunity to confide in Michael.
“Do you think the Luftwaffe will ever train women as pilots?” she asked.
Michael took a bite from his roll, talking as he chewed. “I can’t see why not. The English already have female pilots; they’d be stupid not to consider it.” He paused and cast Gabi a look that made her turn away. “Why? You’re not thinking of becoming a pilot, are you?”
She took a gulp from her cider, stalling the conversation to give her time to think. “Well… I hear that they’re pushing through cadets to make up for the shortage in fighter pilots. I’m already here at the academy so I might as well give it a go. What do you think?”
He clenched his jaw. “I think that you were lucky to get into the academy in the first place and that you shouldn’t push it.” His cheeks reddened and in one impulsive action, he pushed his lunch tray onto the floor. “Is that the reason why you talk to me? I’ve been convenient, haven’t I? And to think I thought you liked me.”