Erich had proven himself to be a competent fighter pilot, having already scored five victories. But he was cruel and merciless, attacking anything that took his fancy, often boasting how much he enjoyed firing at children and old women. Gabi distanced herself from him, wary that such a disturbed mind was capable of anything. Although she spoke to no one of her hatred for Erich, Hans sensed that something was amiss between them and rarely had them fly the same sortie.
Kurt kept his word to Heinz and watched over Gabi with the tenacity of a guard dog. He attacked all enemy aircraft that came close to Swallow and drove away any potential suitors on land just as forcefully. But their relationship was often volatile, erupting in fits of vulgarity that left Gabi red-faced and Kurt sneering like a cornered badger. He would blame Gabi, claiming that she never shut up while Gabi found Kurt to be tactless and juvenile, although, in truth, she did find him amusing.
Heinz did not write to Gabi every day as promised but he did send a letter once a week. He wrote about the astonishing landscape, intriguing local customs and insufferable heat. He also told her over and over how much he loved her and missed her and she read his letters over and over, reassuring herself that he was safe and would return to her. Sometimes, she would read parts of his letters aloud to Kurt and Hans, keeping the more personal details to herself. Hans listened politely; Kurt always had something to say.
“I can’t believe that he still finds the time to write to you. I mean, if I had all that hot, exotic pussy to play with, I know what I’d be doing.”
“You’re such a penis-head, Kurt. Why don’t you go screw yourself?” Gabi rarely cussed but Kurt had a talent for soliciting the foulness in others.
“I would if I could,” Kurt shouted after her as she walked away. “It would save me a lot of time trying to dunk my dick into frigid Teutonic pussy.” He turned to Hans and chuckled. “Feisty little thing.”
“I’d be careful if I were you. She could be your future sister-in-law.”
“Not likely,” said Kurt. “She’ll end up marrying some rich industrialist or baron.”
“Yeh, you’re probably right,” Hans said. “Although I think Gabi’s the kind of girl who will follow her heart.”
Heinz never would propose to Gabi. Kurt was given a telegram on the morning of July twenty-fifth. It was from his mother who had received the official death notice from administration. Kurt broke the news to Gabi, not in the privacy of her quarters as one would expect, but in the middle of a busy mess hall surrounded by lunchtime clatter. He did not embrace her or attempt to soothe her distress in any way but stood and watched her tears and quivering lip. She threw herself at him in a fit of convulsive sobs, trembling against his chest, seeking comfort in his arms. He waited until her sobs were replaced with faint sniffles before pulling away.
August 1941
JG 54 was based at Lindenthal in Cologne. It was a difficult time for Gabi as she struggled to come to terms with the loss of Heinz. She was told that he had fought courageously against an enemy that outnumbered them three to one, and that he had taken no fewer than three down before his own plane was struck, its tail blown to pieces and his plane falling into the desolation of the Gazala desert.
Heinz received a posthumous Iron Cross medal for bravery, presented to the family at a commemorative ceremony in Berlin. Gabi did not attend the service. Instead, she wallowed in self-pity, waiting for her grief to pass, but the suffering lingered especially at night when dark thoughts and images of Heinz buried beneath the Sahara sand would keep her awake. She would comfort herself by stroking her princess cushion and rereading all of his letters until her eyelids closed and she fell into slumber that left her empty and despondent when she awoke.
Two final letters from Heinz arrived a month after his death. Hans and Kurt debated whether they should give them to Gabi and risk opening wounds not yet healed, but in the end, they thought it best to let Gabi decide. Kurt presented her with the letters but neither Hans nor Kurt asked about their content and Gabi never spoke of them. She did read them both, one after the other, and when she had cried herself dry, she bundled them with Heinz’s other letters and tore them into tiny shreds, releasing them from her plane like confetti in the wind.
Another nail clipping dropped onto the dining table where a small pile had gathered. Kurt studied his nails with a fixated eye before swiping the nail shards onto the floor, just as he had always done back home—a foul habit that had disgusted his mother ad nauseam.
“When was the last time Gabi got away from this boring shithole?”
Hans drew on his cigarette, exhaling the smoke through his nostrils and rolling the stump between his fingers. “Not since Heinz—” Hans cut short his words, most likely to spare his friend from painful memories, but Kurt had already moved on and was only troubled by the burden he carried to take care of his late brother’s girlfriend. He simply could not accept Gabi’s prolonged grieving and this irritated him. Why hadn’t she moved on?
“You know, she needs to get out, get on with things,” he said.
Hans stubbed the cigarette into an ashtray and took a swig of cold coffee. “I’m taking Eva out for dinner tonight. Why don’t you and Gabi come along?”
Kurt scratched the stubble under his chin. Although he and Gabi argued more often than they did not, she was never boring and was certainly pleasant to look at.
“Sure, good idea, Phipps. I’ll go ask her.”
He went to her barracks but she not there, so he made his way to the recreation room and settled into a game of cards with the Erich, Dieter and Sepp. Sometime later, she ambled into the room.
“I see you’re hard at work defending the Fatherland,” Gabi said to the huddle around the table. “You wanted to see me?”
“The morale of Wehrmacht personnel is always paramount,” Kurt said smugly. “And on that topic, how would you like to go out to dinner with me, Hans and Eva tonight?”
Gabi replayed Kurt’s words in her head. Had she heard right? Was he asking her out on a date?
“It’s not that hard a question,” Kurt continued impatiently.
“What’s the matter, Gabi, scared that Kurt will make a move on you?” Erich chuckled into his chest.
Gabi glared at Erich. “You’re so easily amused farmer-boy. But then, simple-minded people always are.”
Erich slammed his beer down on the table, shattering the base of the bottle and leaving a nasty gash on his hand.
“That must have hurt.” Gabi watched the blood trickle onto the table but did not move to help him.
“I didn’t feel a thing,” Erich said, sucking in his teeth.
“No brain, no pain.”
Erich stood and held a fist out threateningly, leaving Kurt no option but to intervene.
He grabbed Erich by the wrist and with a toss of his head, motioned for him to leave. “Go get that looked at.”
Erich slinked away and Kurt resumed his seat, leaning back and resting his feet on Erich’s vacant chair.
“Look, no pressure. Phipps and I just thought you needed a night out.”
Gabi blushed. “Hans suggested it?”
“Yep.”
Although still melancholy, Gabi’s mood lifted and she felt a twinge of excitement. “All right then.”
“Good. We’ll meet here at 19.00.”
No sooner had Gabi left the men to their game of cards, when doubt and apprehension played its own menacing game in her head. What had she been thinking to agree on a date with Kurt? She was in no mood to joust with him and to make matters worse, that witch would be there mocking her whenever she got the chance. Clever as Gabi was, she was no match for Eva’s acid tongue and she winced at the thought that she would be made to look a fool in front of Hans. Perhaps it was not too late to cancel…