“What? That’s it?”
“What more is there to tell?”
“There wasn’t someone else? You didn’t argue?”
“I don’t think there was anyone else… I’m not sure.” She swallowed a lump that had formed in her throat, and her heart sank into despair. “No, we didn’t argue… we never argued. He just said he wanted to spend some time apart.” Tears welled.
“It still hurts then?”
She quickly wiped away a tear that trickled down her cheek, embarrassed by emotions that she could not control. “I’m still in love with him.”
Kurt coughed to clear a throat choked with unease and his gaze fell upon eyes awash with sadness. “I’m sorry. I just thought you would have moved on by now.”
Gabi sighed. This man, whose eyes flickered with life’s passion, had no idea. “I’ll be fine. Life goes on, doesn’t it?”
Kurt bobbed his head slowly. “Who knows, you might get back together again.”
She fondled the beads about her neck, rolling a pearl of brilliant blue between her fingers like a rosary bead but without a prayer. “He’s fighting the Flying Fortresses; it’s only a matter of time.”
“Fly till we die.”
Their eyes met and a painful understanding passed between them. Gabi bid Kurt a hasty goodnight and returned alone to her quarters.
“What a cute creature.” Gabi watched Kurt stroke the grey mouse with his finger, its tiny body dipping with each soft caress.
“I’ve named him Max,” Kurt said. “He’s going to be our mascot.”
“You’re joking, aren’t you?”
“No, I’m serious. We need a mascot and it was either this mouse or a cockroach,” he said, lips slightly curled. “I couldn’t catch the cockroach, but I had no problem enticing Max to breakfast. I’m having a caricature of Max painted on my plane as we speak.”
Gabi rolled her eyes. “A mouse as a mascot for a fighter squadron… that’ll really make the enemy quake in fear.”
“Did you know that General Galland has a mouse emblem on his plane?”
“Generals can get away with anything. Besides, you’ve called it Max and I’m sure my father wouldn’t appreciate having a mouse named after him.”
Kurt grinned at the thought of the little mouse’s namesake. Why Gabi’s father had taken a disliking to him, he did not know, nor did he really care. He only knew that it amused him to taunt the general whenever the opportunity arose.
Kurt placed Max on Gabi’s arm. She squealed again.
“He’s just pooped on me.”
“That’s what they do; poop and procreate.”
“A bit like you then?”
“Very funny.”
Otto walked into the room. “What’s that rat doing in here? It’s disgusting.”
“It’s not a rat, it’s a mouse,” Gabi said.
“Rat, mouse, they’re all vermin. Do you want me to get rid of it?”
Gabi carefully handed the little mouse back to Kurt. “His name is Max, and Kurt’s decided that he’s our new mascot.”
Otto sneered at the rodent. “What, a rat as a mascot? What’s wrong with a dog?”
“You try finding one—I reckon the Russians have eaten them all.” Kurt toyed with the mouse, allowing it to run up his arm and around to the nape of his neck. “And remember what happened when we had that baby fox? Bit you good—lucky you didn’t get rabies.”
Otto touched the scar and scoffed. “But a mouse? I think your brain has been baked by that desert sun. Maybe you should apply for sick leave.”
“Max will make a good mascot, you’ll see.” Kurt scooped the mouse from his neck and placed it in his pocket. “I’ll catch up with you later—me and Max have some accommodation matters to attend to.”
Kurt made his way to the workshop to find a home for Max. The fitters also found a mouse mascot odd but agreed to build Max a house. Using a toolbox, they removed the front panel and welded a wire grill to create a large window. They painted the box red with the JG 54 insignia and Green Heart logo and wrote ‘Max’s Maus Haus’ across the top. Kurt was satisfied; Max was bewildered.
August 1943
Days turned into weeks, weeks became months, months passed with the seasons. The war moved slowly, painfully in the wrong direction. Everyone could see it coming, yet they hung on… stubbornly, stupidly, they fought on.
Kurt and Gabi made a formidable combat team. Kurt was leader, Gabi his dutiful wingman. They flew like a pair of swallows, bobbing and weaving their way through an attack, confounding their adversaries with their erratic flight patterns. Their victory tallies were impressive, their reputations as aces of the sky incontestable. Kurt was promoted to wing commander, Gabi to captain. They often flew as a pair, but they were not a couple—Hans had taught Gabi love’s painful lesson and Kurt, well… he still liked to play the field.
On the fourteenth of August, Gabi and Kurt attended a conference held by the Reich Air Ministry on the latest developments in aeronautical technology. It was hosted by General Adolf Galland, an interesting character bordering on eccentric. His nose had been broken in a plane crash some eight years earlier and was bent. He had a small, distinctive moustache similar to the Führer’s, his ears protruded and his mouth, though amiable, was crooked and gave the impression that his head was tilted. But what he lacked in good looks, he made up for in charisma. Puffing away on his signature cigar, General Galland was a figure larger than life, epitomising the dashing war hero—courageous and noble.
But the ambitious program had become mind-numbingly boring, a presenter with the appeal of an undertaker inciting mass yawning throughout the assembly. Gabi fidgeted with her buttons; Kurt’s leg jiggled with nervous energy. A tiny face poked out from a tailored uniform pocket.
Gabi’s eyes bulged. “What! You’ve brought that rodent along? You’re a lunatic. What if he gets away?”
“He’s trained now. I can get Max to stay on command. Watch.”
The little mouse, however, had other plans. Max sprang from Kurt’s hand and dashed up the stairs and on to the stage. Kurt and Gabi watched the rebel mouse cower beside the sole of General Galland’s left boot, who spied the mouse sniffing about and shuffled his foot to shoo it away. Max scampered down the stairs, taking cover behind a curtain.
Kurt bent down low on hands and knees, scanning the floor, oblivious to the commotion he and his little renegade had stirred.
“Max… Max…”
A swift kick into unprepared ribs left Kurt gasping for air.
“What was that for?”
“Shhhhh… everyone is looking,” Gabi said.
Kurt looked about and all eyes were indeed fixed on him. He stood and gestured towards the stage where General Galland waited to speak.
“Have you found what you were looking for, Major?” Galland announced into the microphone. The room chuckled and Gabi sank low into her seat.
“Yes, thank you, General. My apologies for the disruption… please continue.” Kurt took his seat and winked at Gabi, and she could not help but admire how calm and self-assured he was.
Galland was a component orator, regaining the audience’s attention with his booming diction and vigorous gestures. He spoke of the Messerschmitt Me-262, a jet-powered fighter plane that would win the war for the Reich. Gabi was captivated and was first to approach General Galland after his closing address; she had a million questions to ask him.
Hans was also at the seminar. He took an inconspicuous post at the back of the hall, casting a stealthy eye over Gabi and Kurt. When the presentations had run their course, he approached Kurt, standing behind him and watching him shake and tug the stage curtains. It must have struck Hans as odd behaviour, even for Kurt, but he did not ask him what he was doing. He spoke to Kurt’s back.