Aiding the Enemy (War Girls) (5 page)

Chapter Five

Rose didn’t get a chance to catch her breath before they grabbed her by the arms, one on either side, pulled her through the building and outside to a horse drawn carriage.

“But—”

“It would be better for you if you keep quiet.”

She did as she was told.

Herman stood near the front door with Carl. His face was closed down, as if he’d judged her and found her guilty of some horrible crime.

Perhaps, to him, what she’d done—her duty as she saw it—was a crime. Perhaps he was more warrior than doctor.

Perhaps she’d never see him again.

For the first time since she’d made the decision to help escaping soldiers, regret wrapped its cold hand around her heart. Odd that out of all the men she’d met, treated and helped, a German military surgeon would be her one weakness.

Taken to a convent, she was placed in a nun’s cell, the door closed and locked. The room was plain with a simple cot, woollen blankets, a bedpan in one corner and a sputtering candle on a small table.

The only decoration was a cross on the wall.

At least she could pray.

But she was too frightened and tired for even that. She blew out the candle, removed her shoes and lay down on the bed. The Germans probably didn’t realize it, but tonight would most likely be her longest uninterrupted sleep in weeks.

* * *

Herman wanted to hurt someone. Preferably the poisonous man standing next to him. Carl, the orderly, who, it turned out, was really an officer in the German Military Police. Carl had taken him aside as soon as the door opened to armed soldiers and began relaying a list of Rose Culver’s illegal and treasonous activities.

Herman was forced to watch as she was marched out the door and into the night. His hands shook with fury. How
dare
this moronic sycophant call her a traitor and harlot.

“Doctor,” Carl asked, “are you all right?”

“I’m enraged.” Her arrest was a travesty, a crime that would be punished.

“I understand.” Carl patted him on the shoulder.

Herman jerked away. “I doubt that.” Calming himself enough to say the words necessary to satisfy this mean creature’s expectations was more difficult than any surgery he’d performed. As it was, his voice shook as he fought the sudden urge to vomit. “I worked with that woman for months. I gave her my confidence and trust. She assisted me daily, trained our nurses and tended our wounded, all while...” He finally looked Carl in the face. “You do
not
understand.”

He didn’t. Herman was enormously angry, but not at Rose. Never at Rose.

“My apologies, Doctor.” Carl inclined his head and took a step back. His body language changed as he stood tall, lifted his chin and tucked his hands behind his back with military correctness. “We had wondered if you were involved in her activities, if you helped her—even passively. But I can see now that you are just as shocked and disgusted as we were when we discovered what she was doing.”

“Disgusted, yes. That’s exactly how I feel.” Herman shook his head, unable and unwilling to stand next to the horrible sneak one more second. “I need a bath.”

“Yes, of course, Doctor. Please accept my apologies for the disruption of the hospital. You won’t have to deal with Rose Culver again.”

Rose.

The one person he trusted to always,
always
do her job, lend a hand, offer him comfort, even if it only in the form of a cup of tea, was gone. Her quick wit and intelligence made daily life bearable. Her calm smile, quiet words and devotion to duty made tending the wounded seem almost easy.

He paused in the act of closing the door. “Will she be tried?”

“Yes, after lengthy questioning, and executed for her treachery.”

“I want...” How to phrase it so this piece of filth would happily go along with it? “An opportunity to tell her exactly what I think of her. Do you think that could be arranged?”

A slimy smile slid across Carl’s face. “I’m sure that could be accommodated.”

* * *

Rose woke at dawn to the sound of a rooster crowing. She made use of the bedpan, then remade her bed and sat on it, waiting.

It didn’t take long.

Three men entered the room without warning. No knock or introduction. She stood as they came in and nodded as if she were receiving them at the hospital.

“Rose Culver, you are to come with us for questioning.”

She raised her chin. “Certainly.”

She followed them out of the room and down several hallways to a large office where she was seated in front of a wide desk. The man facing her was neither old nor young. His face was plain except for a large, long waxed moustache. His steel-coloured hair was clipped short to his head.

“You have been accused of harbouring and aiding British and Belgian soldiers.”

She didn’t respond. What was there to say?

“How many men have you helped?”

She remained quiet.

“Who else is involved in this plot to kill German soldiers?”

Finally, an accusation she had a response for. “Plot? I’m a nurse. No more, no less. I treat the wounded and help those I can. That is all.”

He said nothing.

“Sir,” she went on. “I have nothing. No money or goods not already committed to the hospital. We don’t have enough bandages, ether or even food to feed ourselves and our patients. No one has enough.”

“And yet there’s been a steady trickle of men out of Belgium. Soldiers, mostly British, are finding their way out.”

“What is that to me? I’m sure soldiers are taught to read maps and live off the land. Nurses don’t concern themselves with such things.”

“You are an intelligent woman.”

“Are you suggesting
I
outsmarted the entire German army?”

“No, but you are intelligent enough to aid a few men on their way to the border.”

“Again, you’re attributing to me resources, knowledge and time I don’t have.”

The soldier smiled, showing his teeth. “I think you’re much more resourceful than you imply. I also think you don’t work alone. Things would go much easier for you if you tell me who is working with you.”

“All I have ever done is my duty.”

The officer sat back in his chair. His eyes narrowed. “Tell me about your duty.”

“I’m a nurse. I treat the wounded.”

“What do you mean exactly?”

“Often, it’s the simple things. Providing food and water, clean clothing and an opportunity to bathe. I help them write letters to their families. Sometimes I do nothing more than hold a hand and offer comfort as a man dies.”

“You do all this for
German
soldiers?”

“Of course. I work for the Red Cross, sir. It matters not to me what country a man fights for.”

“I find it difficult to believe you would treat German soldiers the same as British soldiers.”

“When a man arrives at my hospital, the first thing we do is remove his uniform. Country of origin becomes moot. Severity of wound is what we see. With every patient we receive we ask ourselves, what does
this
man need to be healthy and whole?”

The officer stared down the length of his nose at her. Then he gestured at the guard near the door and she was escorted back to her room.

She sat on the edge of her bed, closed her eyes and reviewed the conversation in her head. Had she said something to incriminate herself? She didn’t think so, but who could tell what information they were looking for.

She hadn’t done anything wrong. Only her duty, as she saw it, and she never, ever neglected any of her patients—German or otherwise.

She glanced down at her hands. They were shaking. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get them to stop.

Rose lay down on top of the blankets and began to pray.

* * *

The next day was a repetition of the day before. Questioning in the morning. A midday meal. An evening meal. No visitors. No sight of anyone beyond the guards who escorted her to and from her daily interrogation session.

After the first week, she asked when she’d be allowed to return to her duty at the hospital.

Her questioner snorted and replied, “Never.”

Not a reassuring answer.

Another week passed, then two.

On the twenty-fourth day, her routine was broken.

She entered the German’s office to discover Herman standing next to him, his arms crossed over his chest. Stunned, she came to a complete halt in the doorway. A guard had to nudge her forward before she remembered to tell her feet to move.

A chair sat several feet in front of the desk, as usual, alone and isolated. She perched on the edge of the seat, her entire attention on the doctor.

She noted his pale complexion, tired eyes and downturned mouth. The good doctor wasn’t taking very good care of himself.

“Your co-conspirators have confessed.” Her questioner said. “The butcher Van Meiter and others. You have been found guilty of treason and will be executed by firing squad in three days.”

She glanced at him, but dropped her gaze to the floor upon seeing the self-important smile he often wore.

“The doctor has some things he wishes to say to you.”

There was silence for a moment, then Herman spoke in a tone so cold, so chilling, a shiver racked her body. “You lied to me.”

His accusation brought her head up. His mouth twisted into an ugly mockery of a smile, as if she were the most heinous criminal.

“You lied and you used me.”

Her death was set; no reason to prevaricate further. “Yes, I lied.” Guilt stabbed a bayonet into her chest. “I’m very sorry for that and for abusing the safety of your patronage at the hospital.”

“Is it true, what they told me? You hid British soldiers and helped them escape?”

“Helped them escape possible confinement, torture and death, yes.”

“I thought you treated everyone equally? No favouritism.”

“In this place, bandages alone could not save British lives.”

“How many?”

She didn’t pretend to misunderstand. Answering couldn’t make things worse. They were going to shoot her regardless, and she owed him—of anyone—the entire truth. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” His eyebrows went up. “Guess.”

“Perhaps...two hundred.”

Both Herman and the German officer swore.

“I truly hope you get what you deserve.” Herman dropped his arms, gave her one last glare and strode from the room.

“Take her back to her room,” her questioner ordered the guard.

When she didn’t rise fast enough, the man put a hand under her arm and pulled her up. She stumbled out of the room and down the hall in a daze.

Back in her room she sat on the bed for a long time, letting tears drip off her chin and onto her folded hands. She could have withstood any torture, any question, but not the expression of betrayal on Herman’s face.

It was the one regret she’d take to the grave.

Her evening meal came, but she barely ate anything. What was the point? She abandoned it to kneel in front of her cot and pray. Her guard came in, took her uneaten food and left without even looking at her.

Hours later, a rattle at the door surprised her.

The guard who came in wasn’t one she recognized. He examined her face for a long moment before saying, “Come with me.”

She followed him down several hallways, seeing no one else along the way. They ended up at a poorly lit doorway. He opened it and gestured at her to go ahead of him.

She found herself outside in an overgrown garden with vines roping over the stone walls on either side. Something was very, very wrong. Were they going to shoot her now?

“What is this? Where are we going?”

“Say nothing,” the young soldier said in a low tone. “Someone will be here soon.”

“But—”

“Three months ago,” the soldier interrupted, “you saved my brother’s life.” He inclined his head. “Wait here for your escort.” He shut the door in her face.

Full darkness enveloped her in a soothing blanket of hope. Fear nibbled at the edges, but she held firm. Only minutes ago she’d contemplated what might happen to her. Nothing good had seemed certain. But now...now nothing seemed certain at all.

A shadow rose out of the darkness and she nearly cried out. A male hand covered her mouth while another snaked around her waist, pulling her close to a body much taller and broader than hers.

She raised her hands to push him away and sucked in a desperate breath through her nose.

His scent.

She knew it better than her own. Soap, a trace of ether and something uniquely woodsy.

Herman
.

What was he doing? He’d already expressed his anger and hatred. Did he have more to say?

“Rose,” he whispered, his voice confirming his identity. “Don’t scream.”

Of anyone, he had the right to ask for her silence. She nodded and he took his hand away. “Are you all right? Have they hurt or abused you?”

“You actually want an answer?”

“Of course I want an answer.”

“But—”

“Just answer the question, Rose.”

“No. I was absolutely terrified for the first few days, but I’ve discovered a limit to the amount of terror I can feel. I was mostly numb...until earlier.” She gave herself a moment to strengthen her resolve to endure whatever came next. “Did you want to say something more to me privately?”

He snorted. “I have a great deal to say, but it can all wait until we’re safely away from here.”

“I don’t understand. Am I being transferred to another location?”

“In a manner of speaking. Follow me.” He turned to leave, but stopped when she didn’t follow.

“I’m very sorry for deceiving you, sir,” she said quietly. “Very sorry.”

He loomed over her, crowding her against the stone wall. “If you call me sir again, I swear I’ll turn you over my knee and spank you.”

She gasped. “What do you want from me?”

He leaned down, putting his palms on the wall behind her, his mouth next to her ear. “To save you. I’ve known about what you were doing for a long time. Confronting you with your so-called crimes was my way of getting inside this place—and giving me an opportunity to get you out.”