“Damn gypsies—absolute vermin.” Hans flicked the stump of his cigarette out into the rain.
“Vermin? Is that what you really think of them?”
“Why, yes, don’t you? Gypsies and Jews, they’re all the same.”
Gabi took another swig of wine and her thoughts darkened. She had seen how the Nazi’s actively incited such bigotry but had never taken part or condoned such behaviour. “You think what the Nazi’s are doing is right?”
“It doesn’t matter what I think. We’re all part of the same circus now. And whether we like it or not, we have to dance to whatever tune the party plays.”
There was much Gabi wanted to say to Hans, but she knew that her views were in conflict with his and she did not want to argue with him. Besides, she understood where his loyalty lay. After all, had the Reich not made him a hero?
“Tell me about your mother.” She passed the wine to Hans, and he filled his mouth.
“Ah, Mama. She’s a tough one—always working to fill our bellies. My Oma was the one who took care of me you know, wiped my snotty nose and made sure I had clean clothes for school. I got my first job when I was ten just to help the family out.” He took another gulp and handed the bottle to Gabi.
They exchanged memories of their youth, the bottle passing between them in turn until Gabi took one final mouthful.
“Here, you finish it. I feel like something sweet.” She opened the box of chocolates and tin of biscuits, selecting one of each and gnawing keenly.
“I guess money’s never been an issue for you,” Hans said, and he craned his head to finish the last of the wine.
“No, we’ve always been well off. But money isn’t everything—I’ve had my share of hard times too.” She yawned and held her watch arm up to the lamp. “Can you believe its eleven o’clock already?”
Hans yawned. “Well, I guess it’s good-night then.” He punched at the bedding and nestled into the blanket, leaving Gabi with a half-eaten box of chocolates and an empty bottle of wine.
She watched him settle, bewildered by his lack of interest. Had he not flirted with her this afternoon? She dimmed the lamp and bid Hans goodnight, succumbing quickly to exhausted slumber.
But Hans did not sleep. He listened to Gabi’s heavy breathing that bordered on snoring, pulling itchy bits of straw out from his trousers. He tossed and turned and grunted his discomfort aloud.
“Gabi, are you awake?”
Gabi rolled over to face Hans, still in a deep sleep. He studied her features for a time before taking a piece of straw and touching the tip of her nose. On the cusp of awakening, she groaned and rubbed the itch. He suppressed a snigger and watched her lick her lips. His unease grew and he peered about the barn, looking at nothing in particular, unable to find comfort on the lumpy bedding and in a burst of rashness, he leaned over and kissed her softly on the lips.
Gabi’s eyes opened immediately. She must be dreaming.
Hans kissed Gabi again, more firmly. She didn’t move except for her eyes that flitted about in the dim light. His kisses moved to her ear, where he tickled the sensitive areas with his tongue. Tingles ran down Gabi’s neck, a soft moan escaping her lips.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
Gabi returned his kiss and in a frenzy of arms and legs, they removed their bulky clothing and repositioned themselves. Gabi straddled his pelvis and lowered herself over his arousal.
“Slow down; it’s too soon,” he whispered, “I want this to last.”
Gabi eased back and rocked slowly.
“You’re driving me mad,” he said in a deep sensual voice that sent Gabi writhing, her thighs shaking with involuntary spasms. He rolled her over and thrust himself into her. She released a shrill cry as the tension reached its glorious peak and he moaned as his manhood erupted. They clung to each other for the rest of the night, their bodies entwined, their souls were as one.
The syrupy scent of manure hung in the air, its potency stimulating the senses into awareness, the frosty dew covering the field like crystals on a carpet of felt. Gabi yawned and sat up, rolling her shoulders and stretching her stiff limbs while Hans lay nestled against her, running his fingers down her exposed back.
They rose reluctantly and helped each other dress, joining the sun outside as it broke through the fog and cleansing themselves in the icy waters of a nearby stream before meandering down the road towards the village.
“You’re quiet. Is everything all right?” Hans asked.
“I’m good,” she said and she smiled to herself, relishing the intimacy they had shared.
Hans paused before blurting a thought aloud. “Did you know you snore?”
Gabi gave him a sidewards glance. “Did you know that it’s not polite to tell a woman that she snores? She may never snore with you again.”
Hans chuckled. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it as an insult—just thought you might like to know.”
“Is there anything else I should know?” she asked.
Hans squeezed her hand. “I think your hair is beautiful. Promise me that you’ll never cut it.”
Gabi blushed. “I promise.”
They walked, hand in hand for an hour until a friendly farmer offered to drive them to Neuhardenberg airbase. By late afternoon, they had arrived back at Krasnowardeisk, exhausted but elated with each other.
While Gabi showered, Hans wandered over to the officer’s quarters to find Kurt, who had apparently gone AWAL. He eventually found him in the lounge sleeping in an armchair, legs sprawled across a coffee table. Hans knocked them down with his boot.
Kurt jolted violently. He yawned and stretched his bewilderment into focus. “Where have you been?”
“I could ask you the same question,” Hans said.
Kurt squinted at the irate figure that loomed over him. “I had to see someone.”
“So you left the base without permission for some pussy? And with a local, no doubt. How stupid can you get?”
“We’ve done it before. What’s the big deal?”
“I’m responsible now, that’s the big deal. Don’t push it, Kurt. All right?”
Kurt dropped his head and swore through clenched teeth. Things had changed between them; it wasn’t the same anymore.
October 1942
During times of war, mankind seeks inspiration to rise above the drudgery, insanity and horror of his existence. Dr Joseph Göbbels understood and exploited this well. Gabi, the only female fighter pilot in the Luftwaffe, was perfect fodder for zealot Hitler Youth and battle-weary soldiers. Young, beautiful and an ace Jagdflieger, she had become a celebrity, gracing the cover of many magazines, with photo-cards and posters keenly sought and traded by the lonely and love-struck.
One morning before a briefing session, the men were admiring one such poster when Gabi joined them. Walter quickly concealed the picture under the table but was too slow to avoid Gabi’s eagle eye. She playfully snatched the poster and held it up in full view of everyone. The room lapsed into silence, anticipation building as they waited for her reaction.
It was a caricature of a young woman, scantily clad in suspenders, corset, thigh-high boots and officer’s peaked hat. Her lips and fingernails were bright red and she was straddling the fuselage of a Messerschmitt painted with the JG 54 insignia. The caption read ‘Mistress of the Hunt.’ Kurt studied the female image closely, paying particular attention to her breasts, observing their spatial dimensions as only a male could.