Opposite Sides (65 page)

“
There’s
always hope at Christmas, Major. Life has to be blessed even just
for one day. I’ve made an application for Christmas dinner. For
both of us. Anything to get out beyond these walls.”

“
Application,
Luttow?”

“
Ja
.
Didn’t
you see the notice on the dining room wall?” Hans shook his head.
Not that he’d taken much notice of the notice board lately. “It was
there last night,” Luttow informed him with pleasure. “Right in the
centre.”

Now that Luttow mentioned
it, Hans did catch a glimpse of a new sheet of paper that had been
pinned on the board just inside the mess Nissan hut but he’d been
too occupied in his thoughts to have taken much notice of it. When
he checked after his discussion with Luttow, he saw that it said
that applications could be made by prisoners who wished to accept
an invitation to enjoy Christmas dinner with an English family who
lived in the area. How thoughtful.

Christmas carols could be
heard coming out of the loud-speaker system in the room. Hans was
reminded of the Christmases in England. There was one he could
remember as if it were yesterday: the one where Gerald and Anne,
Loppy, Robert, himself and Caroline had been invited round to an
afternoon tea of carol singing with Jan and her aunt. It was the
last time they had all been together and the flood of memories
brought prickly tears into his eyes. He swallowed deeply. It was
all he could do to stop the welling he could feel.

Life
in the twenties was so much easier than
now
, he thought.
We had our lives ahead of us and we all knew our place in the
world. Where did we go wrong to get into such a mess?
direction

To spend a
Christmas with a family sounded too good to be true. But Luttow had
seen it in black and white. To be allowed outside these barricades
other than to work in the fields
¨C
that was the stuff dreams were made of. But there
it was an invitation to prisoners of war from British families who
were willing to extend the hand of reconciliation and
friendship.

He must thank Luttow for
thinking of him. Then just before he found Luttow, he was handed a
letter. He recognised Jan’s handwriting and tore it open. Jan told
him that she had made arrangements with the camp Commander for him
to spend the day with her. She would be his ‘English’ family. How
she had managed to get through all the red-tape, he couldn’t even
begin to know but she had written that everything was in order and
the necessary papers had been stamped and signed. What she did not
tell him was that she had booked herself into a small bed and
breakfast for the holiday period and that would be the place she
would be taking him.

The week and a half
dragged by. It was worse than waiting for any order to come through
from army headquarters. Life in the camp moved at such a slow pace
and the pauses between each hour seemed endless.

Now was Christmas Eve and
the weather had turned bitterly cold. Nurse Turner produced her
identity credentials for the guard on the main gate and waited for
a soldier to escort her to the Commander’s office. One of his
officers was on duty.

The small room was heated
by an upright kerosene fire that stood in one of the corners. Even
so, the tin-clad building was not particularly warm and the officer
invited Jan over to the heater so that she could stand and warm her
numb fingers. She had brought an extra thick army coat she had
managed to borrow for Hans as she did not think the town locals
would be pleased to see her accompanying a German uniform. People
may think them spies and call for the military police or Home Guard
and that would most certainly upset all her plans.

The officer sent a guard
into the prisoners’ quarters to find Major Resmel and bring him to
the office. Then, everything would depend on Jan; her ability to
make sure the day went smoothly together with the prompt return of
the Major at 22.00 hours.

“
It’s good of
you to offer one of the prisoners the chance to savour a little of
Christmas,” the officer said as soon as the guard left. He was
stamping his feet on the cold floorboards, trying to fathom out why
such a nurse would be making such an offer. “Awfully cold out
there, today. Wouldn’t be surprised if we didn’t have a bit of
snow.” He looked out through the small window pane up into a
mono-textured grey sky outside. “Later, I reckon. Cold enough for
it.”

“
Might
do.”

Jan was not in the
talking mood to say much more. She began to rub life and warmth
back into her pale fingers. They started to tingle and
ache.

“
It’s cold
enough in here to freeze the balls off a brass monkey,” he
commented. “Bad enough in ’ere. Goodness knows what they must be
feeling in those huts!”

“
Or not
feeling as the case may be,” she answered in a dry tone.

The soldier smirked. As
an active duty nurse, this woman would have heard it all; and seen
it all. Nothing would shock her.

“
Exactly!” He
laughed a little. “Bloody cold, I should imagine.”

“
What about
the ones in the tents?” She had made note that at least some of the
POWs had to make do with erected army tents. Only this time, they
were not in the desert of North Africa. “Must be absolutely
freezing out there for them.” She tucked her hands deep into her
pockets.

“
They’ve got
a roof over their heads, haven’t they?” There was no hint of
empathy in his comment. “Lucky to have that. Most of our lads over
there in France have nought but stars above them. They’ve got
luxury here compared with our lads.”

“
Is it normal
to put up tents?” she wanted to know.

“
Not normal.
Ran out of Nissan-hut accommodation for the last intake. Now it’s a
case of make do with what’s offered.”

“
But the
walls are so thin.”

“
They’ve got
heaters in each tent and blankets. They’re not too bad off. For
Jerries. Should be grateful. After all, they started it so what do
they expect!”

“
Still, it
can’t be very pleasant in those tents.”

She walked to the window
and looked out. There was no sign of the guard or Hans. The officer
reached for some papers on the Commander’s desk. He picked up the
top two pages and began reading.

“
I see you’re
taking the Major out,” he said still glancing through the print on
the page. “He wouldn’t be one of those under canvas. The lower
ranks get that.” The officer lowered his hand that was holding the
papers. “Major, eh?” His eyes looked Jan in the face. “Hope this
one appreciates what you are doing.”

“
He will. I
know he will,” she answered curtly.

“
Hope you’re
right! Don’t trust these Nazi sods. Can be quite tricky so be
aware.”

Jan ignored his last
remark. She could hear footsteps approaching and then the NCO flung
open the door.

“
Major
Resmel, sir.”

“
Thank you,
Private.” The English officer quickly placed his hat on his head
and faced the prisoner who had just come in. He saluted.
“Major.”

The major came to
attention and clicked his heels. He saluted first the officer and
then the nurse.

“
Lieutenant.”

The Major removed his
cap.

“
Everything’s
in order, Major. Lucky man. Aren’t our people good to make such an
offer?” Hans nodded but said nothing, all the while keeping his
eyes on Jan. The officer continued, “Good, then. We’ll expect you
back in barracks by 22.00 hours when your parole expires. I trust
you to keep your word, one officer to another, and not let the lady
down.”

“
Twenty two
hundred hours.” The major nodded. “I shall be here.”

“
Good. This
lady’s brought you a coat. I suggest to wear it. You can leave
yours here.”

“
I’d prefer
to keep it with me, thank you. But I will wear this one. Don’t want
to be taken for a spy. Might be shot, eh?” He laughed a little but
his joke fell on deaf ears.

“
Thank you,
Lieutenant.” Jan put on her hat and gave him a quick salute. “I’ve
got a driver waiting outside.” She turned to Hans. “Are you ready,
Major?”

Major Resmel replaced his
cap, clicked his heels, saluted his fellow officer once more and
followed his escort out of the building.

They were driven for five
or six miles to the outskirts of town. Hans noticed several damaged
buildings without roofs and guessed that they had been hit during
one of the air raids. As they drove past, Jan mentioned that she,
too, had heard about Elisabeth’s death, and even though she knew
that Hans had not been close to his wife, she did remember to
express her regret.

“
Thank you. I
see your families suffer in the same way: your bombs, our bombs;
what’s the difference?”

She didn’t answer but
continued to look out of the small window by the back
seat.

“
Here we
are!” she announced. “We’ve arrived. I think you’d better keep the
army coat on that I brought for you, Hans.”

The car had pulled up
outside a very modest building. Its front windows had heavy dark
curtains which had been pulled together. Hans noticed the glass was
protected with criss-cross tape and guessed that it had been done
to prevent the panes shattering should a bomb fall near by. He
thought everything appeared secluded and drab as though each house
was trying to camouflage itself and become one with the greyness of
its surroundings.

He sat in the rear of the
car and exchanged his own army coat for the English one. He pushed
his cap through one of the shoulder straps of his uniform jacket.
As he stepped out of the vehicle, he pulled up the coat collar and
sank his head downwards into its protective fabric. Jan gave
instructions to the driver and then, together, they walked up to
the door and rang the bell.

“
It’s all
right, Hans. The owner knows. He’s made a small room available for
us. We can sit and eat there without being disturbed. So, once
inside, it’s fine to remove the coat.”

A servant led them
through the dark, narrow corridors of the house until they came to
a small room somewhere near the back of the building. They entered.
The first thing he saw were the dark black-out curtains hanging
loosely to one side of each window. It brought the reality of being
on the receiving end of a bombing raid, even if the bombs were
being dropped by pilots from his own side, very much closer to him.
For a minute he felt foreign and uncomfortable but then Jan’s
familiar voice curtailed his thoughts.

“
Give me your
coat. It can go here.” She indicated several coat hooks alongside
the door. “You can take that army coat off as well and I will hang
it on this hook. Then we can go inside.”

The small room was cosy
and warm, and smelt somewhat smoky from burning coal. It brought
back memories of the Turner house and he half-expected the elderly
lady to come walking through the door.

“
Here, put
your hat over there.” Jan pointed to a small cupboard with a set of
drawers. He laid his cap on the surface and walked across the room
closer to the fire.

“
Pleased?”
she asked, joining him. They stood side by side looking at the pale
blue and red flames flickering between the black, shiny coal
lumps.

“
Yes. I am.”
He held out his hands towards the fire to warm them. There was a
homeliness about everything which he felt deep inside. He had not
felt it for a long time.

“
Like a
drink?”Jan asked holding up a sealed bottle.

“
Thanks.” He
was overwhelmed by the normality of everything. “What is
it?”

“
Sherry.”

“
Do you want
me to open it for you?” he asked.

“
No, thank
you. I can manage.”

She left his side and
carried the bottle over to the table and picked up the bottle
opener. There was a hissing sigh as the cork was loosened. He
watched her intently and, for the first time, he noticed that the
table had already been set but it had been set for
three.

He was about to ask her
who the other person might be but Jan got in first.

“
Oh, I see
you have noticed. Well, I’m not going to tell you. Not yet. How
much sherry?”

She picked up one of the
glasses.

“
How much am
I allowed?”

“
As much as
you want.” The way she answered sounded as though there was a
cellar full of the liquid. She laughed and poised the neck of the
bottle over the rim of the glass.

“
Fill it up
then.”

Jan poured his glass
first and then her own. She brought them over to the
fire.

“
Prost!”

He clicked his heels
together and held the filled glass above his head.

“
Cheers!”

Each of them celebrated
in their own secret way; neither of them divulged their innermost
thoughts to the other. Jan bent down and stood her wine glass down
on the edge of the hearth. She stood again and walked over to a
small gramophone that had been placed on the sideboard top and
turned it on. Vera Lynn’s voice crooned liltingly from the
speaker.