Devils with Wings (41 page)

“We need to change your dressings first Herr Leutnant, then you can have visitors.”

“Call me Paul, please.”

She looked at him, their eyes locked for a few seconds, “then you call me Christa.”

The auxiliary nurse, who came to help Nurse Keller change his dressings, interrupted them and the moment was broken.

They quickly changed his dressings and then gave him a bed-bath to freshen him up.

They joked with him, telling him that he would be out of bed tomorrow and there would be no more pampering and bed-baths.

Once they had finished, they left him to his own thoughts, to await the visit of his friends.

He heard them before he saw them. Max’s voice heard above all others.

The Ward Sister was on to them immediately and Max received a berating and warned to keep quiet or they would be thrown out.

They approached Paul’s bed, four of them, Max, Fischer, Leeb and Kienitz, grins splitting all of their faces.

Paul’s face also broke into a broad smile from one side of his face to the other.

They saluted and crowded round his bed. Max sat on the edge of the bed, the others pulled up chairs they found in the ward.

“Well sir,” started off Max first, “you seem to have landed on your feet here,” he said glancing around the ward, “living in luxury you are.”

“Three meals a day sir?” added Leeb

“Are the nurses Dutch or German?” asked Fischer.

“Does it matter,” stepped in Kienitz, they’re all lookers.

“Seriously sir, how are you feeling?”

Paul couldn’t help but break into a smile, he had missed the banter.

“Back is as sore as hell, but apart from that I’m on the mend. How is Halm?”

“He’s on the mend sir; he’ll be back with the unit in a few weeks. His leg will need couple of months before he can start training again though.”

“How’s your arm Kienitz?”

“Well on the mend sir, it was just a scratch, nothing like yours.”

“Where have they billeted you?”

“We’ve been given some accommodation in Maastricht, so we are not far away,” replied Leeb

“Its Luxury sir, after Poland and Hildesheim,” informed Fischer.

“The locals are a bit quiet, but the beer is great,” added Max

Max then took out a couple of bottles of Dutch beer, stuffing them under Paul’s blankets, “for later sir.”

“You’re going to get me thrown out Unterfeldwebel.”

“That’s the general idea sir. When will they let you out?”

“I’ll be seeing the Doctor this afternoon, but will be up and about tomorrow.”

“Don’t rush sir,” suggested Leeb, we don’t seem to be going anywhere soon.”

“And we’re all heroes at the moment,” added Kienitz

Fischer jumped in, “the minute they see our uniform, we immediately get our drinks paid for, whether by soldiers, airmen or sailors.”

“I’m sure there are no complaints from you guys,” said Paul

“No way sir,” they all added.

“How is the war going?”

“Well, “said Max, “we’ve already advanced well into Belgium, they’re finished, and there doesn’t seem to be anything stopping us.”

A white and blue uniform suddenly appeared at the end of the bed.

“I’m sorry gentlemen, but the Leutnant needs to rest, so you have two minutes.”

Christa started to walk away and after a few steps, stopped and turned round, looking directly at Max.

“You might want to take those bottles of beer with you Unterfeldwebel, you wouldn’t want to see them wasted.”

Max’s face turned red, the first time Paul had ever seen him embarrassed.

“Maybe next time, eh Max?” supported Paul.

“Well, we’d better leave you to your pampering then sir. Could you give us a few minutes guys?”

The three Uffz’s understood that Max would want to speak to their Commander alone for a few minutes. They stood up pushing their chairs back, then moving them back to their original positions.

They saluted, wished Paul a quick recovery and left the ward, chatting excitedly as they left.

Max grabbed one of the vacant chairs, dragged it to the side of the bed, sat down and shuffled it close to Paul.

“Are you truly ok sir?” An unmistakable look of worry on his face now that their subordinates had left.

“Yes Max, truly I am. I will find out more today, but I have every intention of getting out as soon as possible. What about the platoon?”

“They’re all fine sir. Halm will be with us before we know it and the rest are fine.”

“Has someone written to Weyer’s parents?”

“Yes sir, Hauptman Volkman did it in your absence.”

“Good Max, good, he said sleepily.”

“Right Unterfeldwebel, he needs some peace and quiet now,” whispered Christa who had silently appeared by Paul’s bedside.

“Ok nurse, I’m off now.”

He turned to say goodbye to Paul, but his eyes had already closed and he was already drifting into a deep sleep; the effects of his wounds, the trauma of the last few days and the drugs taking over.

She handed Max the two bottles of beer, smiling, “I know soldiers will be soldiers, but these are not a good idea for him at the moment.”

Max took the bottles, “you will look after him won’t you?”

“You can be sure of that Unterfeldwebel.”

Max got up out the chair, took one last look at his platoon Commander and left.

Christa looked at the NCO as he left and then looked at the sleeping Fallschirmjager officer, recognising the strong bond between them.

I’ll look after him she thought, I’ll look after him.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

She trundled the wheelchair around to the side of his bed, two orderlies also stood by waiting to assist.

Although his legs had not been injured, his back was very weak, the muscles damaged by the large chunk of shrapnel that had struck him from behind. Fortunately the blow had not been severe as he was hit at the periphery of the shells blast zone. Had it been more severe, it may even have punched a hole straight through his body, an event he probably wouldn’t have survived.

The two orderlies helped Paul manoeuvre his body so he was sat on the edge of the bed, his legs dangling over the side.

Christa placed the wheel chair alongside him, the orderlies helping Paul to stand, being careful of the dressings on his back, turning him slightly; then helping lower him into the seat of the wheelchair.

“There Leutnant Brand,” said one of the orderlies, his accent indicating that he may even be Dutch, “we can get you outside into the fresh air now.”

“Right,” said Christa, “we need to get you on your feet one more time; you need this dressing gown on to keep you warm.”

They raised Paul on his feet again; Nurse Keller gently placing his arms in the oversized gown, ensuring it didn’t catch his back, disturbing his healing wounds.

They sat him down again and she fussed around him, placing slippers on his feet and a blanket on his knees, tucking it in around him.

“Shall I wheel the Leutnant outside?” asked one of the orderlies

“No, I’ll take him,” responded Christa.

“But aren’t you off duty soon?”

“That’s ok,” she replied, her face reddening slightly.

She proceeded to push the chair down the centre of the ward, past the three beds on Paul’s side, through the double doors at the end turning right which took them to some French doors.

Christa left Paul in the chair and opened the framed glass doors then wheeled him out onto a slabbed patio.

To the left was a row of cane easy chairs, some occupied by recuperating patients, fronted by a waist high, white picket fence, interspersed with potted plants.

To the right it was very similar, except for a few additional circular tables with parasols.

She pushed Paul forwards along a path; lawn on either side, until they reached another squared patio area, covered by an ivy-blanketed arbour.

She positioned Paul next to a low, black, cast iron table, and then sat opposite him on a matching black, bistro seat.

On the table was a crystal jug of freshly squeezed orange juice and two crystal glasses.

“Would you like a drink Herr Leutnant?”

“Yes please and please call me Paul.”

She poured them both a glass and pushed one over to him, and raised her glass, Paul picking his up and she clinked them both together.

“To your recovery,” she said smiling.

“Thank you,” he responded.

“What part of Germany are you from?”

“Charlottenburg, in Berlin, and you?”

“Ah, the ‘new west’, I’m from Berlin too,” gasped Paul

“Where do you live then?”

“Brandenburg, that’s only eighty kilometres from you. What are you doing here?”

“I’m with the DAK, the German Red Cross, they asked for volunteers, to support our soldiers and airmen.”

“But how did you know you would be sent here, the war has only just started?”

“They told us that we would be going to Poland, but at the last minute we were sent here.”

“I’m glad about that,” said Paul, looking into his lap, fiddling with his blanket.

“Me too, but you won’t be here for much longer. I overheard the Doctor; I shouldn’t really be telling you this. He said you would be out in a few days, but would be sent home to recuperate, then on light duties only.”

Paul’s face lit up, “It will be good to get out of here.”

He saw the disappointment in Christa’s face, and immediately regretted what he had said.

“I, I didn’t mean I wanted to get away from the hospital, or you, it’s only that I want to be up and about and get back to my unit.”

Before one of them could interrupt the embarrassing silence, there was a cough behind them.

“Leutnant Brand, I see life is looking up for you.”

Christa stood up and Paul twisted round to see Hauptman Volkman, immaculate as ever, his cane tapping the side of his highly polished boots. Paul immediately tried to get up out of his chair.

“Stay put Leutnant Brand; you’re not ready to move just yet.”

Paul stopped struggling, settling back into his wheelchair, and frustration patently on his face.

“I’ll be out in a few days sir.”

“Glad to hear it Brand. Now, nurse, I need a moment with the Leutnant, if you would excuse us.”

“Certainly Herr Hauptman, but the Leutnant isn’t fully recovered and shouldn’t be taxed too much,” she said defiantly, feeling very protective of her charge.

“He is a Fallschirmjager officer Nurse,” he peered at her name badge, “Keller, he has experienced much worse I can assure you. Now please leave us.”

Christa, stormed passed the Raven, stopping to warn him that he had no more than ten minutes.

But before she could leave the Raven added, “If you could get someone to organise a hot drink for the both of us, it would be appreciated.”

She continued her vexed exit and went back to the ward and to finally book off duty.

Volkman took her vacated seat, crossed his legs and placed his crop in the iron table.

“She’s a feisty one Leutnant Brand; you will need to handle her with care.”

The bemused Paul responded, “I’m not sure what you mean sir, I’m sure she was just doing her job.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” he replied distinctly aware that his junior officer had no idea of Christa’s attraction to him, “she is just concerned for your health.”

He leant forward, “you have made quite a name for yourself Brand; the attack on Eben Emael was a resounding success. Everyone is talking about the Fallschirmjager, the Green Devils.”

“We lost some good men though sir.”

“I know Brand, but the casualty count was nowhere near as high as was expected, and certainly not as high as it could have been had it not been executed so successfully.”

“The troops did well sir, to be honest the Belgian defenders didn’t really stand a chance. They didn’t have the aggression, or more importantly the motivation to defeat us sir.”

“Or the leadership, it is evident that they were badly led and made too many mistakes.”

“At a high cost sir, they lost a lot of men.”

“Yes they did. But one thing we have learnt from them and from this particular action is that the shock tactic worked Brand. Suddenly hit out of nowhere by gliders full of well trained troops with the appropriate equipment, we had an impact on the enemy that was disproportionate to the size of our force.”

“I take it the powers to be are satisfied with the Fallschirmjager sir, maybe there will be a greater role for us in the future?”

Before Volkman could answer, an orderly arrived with a tray, holding a pot of steaming coffee, milk, sugar and even a plate of biscuits.

He placed the tray on the table and asked. “Do you want me to pour sir?”

“Damn it man we’re not invalids! Be off with you.”

The orderly scooted away, pleased to get away from the frightening Fallschirmjager Captain.

“Coffee Brand?”

“Yes sir, thank you.”

He stood up, pouring both of them a cup, “milk and sugar?”

“Please sir”

“We need to get you out of here soon Brand; you’ll be getting soft with all of this pampering.”

“I’m ready to return to the unit sir, just as soon as I can get out of this chair.”

“We’ll get you back soon enough,” he said as he passed the coffee to Paul, “but in the meantime I have something for you.”

He looked curiously at his Adjutant, “what’s that sir?”

The Raven stood up and walked over to Paul’s chair, pulled out a small oblong box. On opening the lid Paul could see the lining looked velvet in texture. The Hauptman proceeded to pull out a medal, the Iron Cross.

“The other senior officers and NCOs’ are at this very moment receiving their awards from the Fuhrer himself. He sends you his congratulations, and regrets that you cannot, through your injuries, be with the others at this moment in time.”

The Raven lifted the Iron Cross, First Class out of the presentation box and proceeded to pin it to Paul’s dressing gown.

“General Student himself was coming to the hospital to present this to you, but I requested that honour, I hope you don’t mind?”

He then straightened up and saluted him, “congratulations Leutnant Brand, I’m proud to have you in my Battalion and the Fallschirmjager is all the better for having you in its ranks.”