Kurt was a lustful lover with the vigour and stamina of a wild boar. He soothed her with firm, deliberate strokes, over and over until she was ready. She arched her back as his pleasure consumed her; she whimpered when he had fulfilled his duty. They slept soundly in each other’s arms for some hours before Gabi began to stir. Her body trembled; she mumbled something incoherent, her movements becoming more and more desperate. Kurt woke from his sex-induced slumber to find her screaming and lashing out.
“Gabi, what’s wrong? Shhhhh… you’ll wake up the whole base.”
“Stop, Yuri. Please stop! Papa…”
Kurt shook Gabi, her eyes staring, stunned and confused. She watched him hastily pull up his trousers and stumble to the door.
“You’re crazy. You’ve woken the whole base and scared the shit out of me.”
“Don’t go, Kurt. Please don’t leave me.” But awareness had come too late, leaving her to face her demons alone.
Gabi gazed vacantly out the window until the rising sun persuaded her to leave her bed. She took a shower and made her way to the mess. Kurt sat alone at a small table near a window, immersed in a morning newspaper. Gabi made herself a coffee and wandered over, standing before him, brittle and exposed.
“I’m so sorry, Kurt. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Kurt looked up from his newspaper. “What’s your problem? I thought we had a great night.”
“We did. It’s just… I sometimes have nightmares.”
“You need help then.” His eyes returned to their reading.
“I’m sorry. I’m sure it won’t happen again.”
“You’re right there—I won’t be spending another night with you again.”
Gabi’s heart sank under the weight of rejection. She scratched the scar on her palm and made her way to Swallow and emotional sanctuary.
Later that morning in the officer’s quarters, Kurt grappled with a report long overdue, grumbling to himself and struggling to make sense of the words in his head. Funny, he never had any trouble telling a story but the minute he was expected to write it down, the words failed to flow. How he loathed paperwork—almost as much as he hated salting down the chopping block at the butcher where he worked his first job as the family provider. He hated the smell of sawdust and blood and the inane talk of people whose lives revolved around small goods and nothing more. Thank God his uncle had offered to help them financially, enabling Kurt to finish his education and follow his dream of becoming a pilot.
Hans walked into the room and immediately scanned over the papers strewn across the desk. “What! You’ve only just started that report?”
Kurt shrugged and grinned sheepishly. This was not the first time that he had failed in his reporting duties, but their friendship meant more than just a late report and Kurt knew that Hans would not make an issue of it.
“Say, what happened to you last night?”
“Oh, Gabi and I walked back to the base.”
“That’s some walk.”
“Yeh, tell me about it. What about you and Eva?”
“We’ve split up.”
A cup of coffee tipped and poured out over the desk and onto the floor.
“Really?” Kurt said, quickly mopping the liquid with his report papers. “You must be pissed off.”
Hans glanced at the pile of soggy papers but continued to talk as though nothing had happened. “Not really. It was always about her and what she wanted. I’ve never known anyone as selfish or conceited—except for you, of course.”
Kurt nodded to move the conversation along; boredom had set in and he just wanted Hans to make his point quickly and leave so he could get away for some early lunch.
Hans studied a chart on the wall. He turned to Kurt, who was now cleaning coffee from his boots with the remains of his report. “Say, did you hear that screaming this morning?”
“No, I didn’t hear anything,” Kurt lied. “Maybe one of the boys was giving some slapper a good time.”
“No,” Hans said, “it wasn’t a cry of passion; it was sheer terror.” He left the room.
Kurt watched the door close, his thoughts on the previous night’s events. She had cried out in fear for help and he had offered her none. He tugged at his earlobe and scowled at himself. She couldn’t help having a nightmare if that’s what it was. And who was Yuri?
Kurt gathered the coffee soaked sheets of paper and threw them into the wastepaper basket, leaving the office, and his unfinished report, to find out.
Gabi spent that morning in the hangar servicing Swallow and stewing in regret. Why had she slept with Kurt of all people? He had always called her crazy, and now he had proof. He probably would refuse to fly another sortie with her. After all, who would trust their life to a mad female fighter pilot?
Manfred, a veteran mechanic with a crusty demeanour, coughed to clear lungs choked from years of heavy smoking. He watched as Gabi grappled with a stubborn bolt that refused to shift, the spanner slipping and grazing her knuckles.
“Damn shit spanner!” She threw the spanner against the tin hangar wall.
“Tsk-tsk… such a temper. You’re all thumbs today, Gabi.”
“You know, Manfred, some days you just shouldn’t get out of bed.”
A shadow emerged from behind the hangar door. She frowned as the shadow took form and spoke.
“Can we have a chat?”
Gabi turned her back to the shadow. “I’ll only be a few minutes,” she said to Manfred, who winked and she reddened—did Manfred know what she and Kurt had done?
She clambered down the ladder from the platform, its rusty frame rattling unsteadily and walked away from the hangar. The shadow followed.
When far enough away to be out of Manfred’s earshot, Gabi let the hurt and anger fly. “Look, Kurt. I’ve already apologized for what happened last night. I don’t know what else you want from me.”
Kurt opened his mouth to speak but faltered under Gabi’s intense glare. But he did not back down. “I know you didn’t do it deliberately. I just want to know that you’re all right.”
“I’m fine,” she said.
“Is there a reason why you had that nightmare?”
“It’s not your concern.”
“Yes, it is. I promised Heinz that I would look out for you. Tell me, who is Yuri?”
Startled, Gabi looked up at Kurt, eyes wide as they connected. What had she been saying in her sleep? She sat down on a bench, Kurt taking a seat beside her uncomfortably close. The corrosive fumes of aviation fuel invaded her nostrils, prompting her to survey a row of metal drums nearby. They were dented and rusted around their rims but intact with no visible sign of any leaks. A sneeze from Kurt drew back her attention.
“Gesundheit.”
“Thanks. I’m allergic to diesel,” he confessed.
Gabi shifted her position farther along the bench away from Kurt. Why was he doing this to her? Should she tell him the truth? Rubbing her palm, Gabi reluctantly released the painful memories.
“Yuri was our gardener at Manor Grand Oak. One day, Yuri said that he found some kittens. I was seven years old at the time, so naturally, I wanted to play with kittens. I went with him down into the cellar, but there were no kittens. He raped me, tried to strangle me and left me for dead. My father didn’t find me until later that evening. He has never forgiven himself. That’s why he sent me to live in England with my aunt; he thought I’d be safer there.” She took a quivering breath and clasped her hands to stop them shaking. “Anyway, I had nightmares for years but they eventually stopped. When Heinz died, they started again. I’m so sorry—I shouldn’t have slept with you.”