The Colonel's Wife, Page 2

  “You fool! Is this your first day on the job? Don’t you know to make certain the lady’s dress is safely past before you step back to let her escort out?”

  Griese snapped to attention, his entire body trembling, debating whether to say something. He decided silence might be considered a further afront. “I apologize, sir. I, umm, I have no excuse.”

  “I apologize, sir, it is entirely my fault.”

  Griese resisted the urge to turn toward Colonel Konrad, his commanding officer rushing down the steps.

  You’re heading to the front for sure.

  “While it’s not his first day, this is our first party, and he’s not used to such lovely ladies wearing such gorgeous fashions. Please, let me escort you personally inside, madam, and one of my staff will make certain your dress is in pristine condition before the festivities begin.”

  “I’m sure there’s no harm done,” replied the young woman, clearly not the general’s wife, mistresses among the upper echelons common, though escorting young relatives so they could be married off to up and coming officers was also common.

  To make assumptions could be deadly should it bring embarrassment to either party.

  Konrad snapped his fingers and directed him with a glare to another car that had pulled up, its rear door still closed.

  Griese said nothing, instead rushing down the steps and pulling open the door, keeping his eyes on the next dress as it cleared the doorframe, swearing to never make the same mistake again. As he stepped back, he glanced up the steps to see the general being formally introduced to the colonel’s wife, and as the man delivered a stiff bow before taking her hand, he glared at Griese out of the corner of his eye.

  Leaving his mouth dry, and his heart hammering.

  He had embarrassed an SS general.

  And his life could now be forfeit.

  He was about to turn as the next car arrived when he noted the colonel’s wife staring at him, a smile on her face, though it was her eyes that had a wave of ice-cold fear washing over him. For he was certain her stare revealed a fear as great as his.

  And that could mean only two things.

  That he had been right in what he had seen.

  And that she knew he had seen it.

  4 |

  Konrad Residence Berlin, Nazi Germany

  Joachim Konrad stood at attention beside his little brother, who, much to his annoyance, continued to fidget despite repeated admonishments.

  He’s such a child!

  His mother continually reminded him that he was the same way when he was that age, yet he refused to believe it. There was simply no possibility that he, a future leader in the Reich, could have been so disappointing a youth.

  He reached over and straightened Maximilian’s scarf then punched him on the shoulder. “Smarten up. You’ll embarrass Father.”

  Tears filled Maximilian’s eyes, but he straightened, staring ahead, allowing Joachim to enjoy the thrill he was now a part of. The reception line. His father was now greeting a man whose insignia indicated he was a Gruppenführer in the SS, the skull and crossbones on the band of the general’s peaked cap sending shivers of excitement racing through his body.

  One day that will be me!

  He had always wanted to join the military for as long as he could remember. To be like his father was his dream, to make his parents proud of him as he fought for the Reich and for Adolf Hitler was his only goal in life. He excelled in the Hitler Youth, and his grades were excellent in school. Thanks to his father’s position, he would attend the finest university in the country, then upon graduation, become an officer.

  Six years.

  In a mere six years he’d be a lieutenant of some sort, eventually making his way into the SS, and working his way up the ranks. His only regret would be that the war would be over long before he’d take his position among the officers’ ranks.

  Though there was plenty of world left to conquer once Europe was done with. The Eastern Front had opened only a couple of months ago. Once the Soviets were dealt with, there’d be massive swaths of territory to deal with, the Japanese unlikely to finish the job themselves.

  And then there was Africa, where Rommel was doing so well.

  Then America.

  He suppressed a smile as goosebumps raced over his skin at the thought of leading soldiers into New York City, standing proudly in the turret of a Panzer tank, saluting the chancellor in his flawless black uniform.

  “Do something about that imbecile of a corporal you have working for you, or I will.”

  Joachim’s attention snapped back to the situation at hand, the SS general’s tone one of barely controlled rage. It had his own heart racing with fear that his father might be in trouble.

  “I assure you, sir, it won’t happen again.”

  The general leaned in closer as his lady friend talked to Joachim’s mother. “I’m not certain you understand me.”

  Joachim watched as his father’s face paled slightly, fear in the man’s eyes for the first time that he could remember.

  And for the first time he could remember, he was ashamed.

  “I will have him reassigned immediately.”

  “The Eastern Front.”

  His father bowed. “As you wish.”

  The general smiled, patting his father on the shoulder. “Good, good, then the matter is settled.”

  The pleasantries continued, but Joachim had lost interest. He wanted desperately to know who this corporal was they were talking about, and what he had done to embarrass his father and put both their careers in jeopardy.

  Incompetence like that shouldn’t be tolerated, nor rewarded with a posting to glorious battle on behalf of the Reich.

  5 |

  Konrad Residence Berlin, Nazi Germany

  Ten sets of guests. Ten cars. Griese’s job was done for several hours, which was unfortunate. It gave him time to think. Time to dwell. And that wasn’t good, not with his current predicament.

  Yet what was that predicament? The colonel was a fair man. He doubted what had happened with the dress would merit anything serious. In fact, that was the least of his worries.

  It was what he had seen.

  And the fact the Colonel’s wife seemed to be aware of the fact.

  Though with the severity of her secret, and the danger it put everyone in, wouldn’t she have immediately told her husband, and wouldn’t he have immediately done something about it?

  But what could he do?

  He’ll have to kill you.

  It was the only logical choice. It’s what he would do if placed in the same situation.

  He shuddered at the thought. No, he wouldn’t kill to preserve the secret. He frowned as he strode toward the side of the house where there would be few if any people there to disturb his thoughts. It was easy for him to say he wouldn’t kill, because he could never possibly be placed in the same situation.

  You’d kill to protect your family.

  He sighed, shaking his head. He wasn’t so certain. He knew he should, but he was never a man of violence. He had never even thrown a punch in his youth, and bootcamp had been torture, grappling with those far more experienced at scrapping than he was.

  It had terrified him.

  As did the notion of killing, let alone murdering someone.

  Though he wasn’t the colonel. The colonel wouldn’t hesitate. Though a fair man, he was a soldier. He was SS. And one didn’t reach that rank by being a pacifist. If the colonel decided his corporal knew too much and must die, then he would be dead.

  In short order.

  “Corporal Griese!”

  Griese’s bladder almost let loose as he spun toward the bark. He paled at the sight of the colonel’s personal aide, Hauptsturmführer Hoffman. “Yes, Captain?”

  “You will report to the colonel’s office at the close of the party. Understood?”

  Griese snapped to attention, clicking his heels. “Yes, sir!”

  Hoffman pointed at his boots, the forgott
en scuff visible in the rapidly fading light. “And clean those up. We expect the best from everyone, even lowly corporals.”

  Griese flushed. “At once, sir!”

  Hoffman disappeared around the corner and Griese dropped to a knee, retrieving a handkerchief from his pocket and addressing the offending boot. Satisfied, he stood, then the words spoken only moments before finally registered.

  And he doubled over, vomiting.

  He’s going to kill me in his office.

  He wiped his mouth clean, then glanced toward the window and nearly fainted, the young Maximilian pointing at him, laughing, as Joachim glared at him.

  With a hate only years of indoctrination could foster.

  6 |

  Konrad Residence Berlin, Nazi Germany

  Konrad glanced at one of the house staff standing near the periphery and motioned him over with a finger. The man approached and bowed deeply.

  “Find my sons and put them upstairs. Tell them I said they’ve lost the privilege of being among adults.”

  “Immediately, sir.” The man disappeared out into the hallway where Maximilian’s laughter could still be heard over the polite conversation running the length of the long dining table.

  He smiled, slightly embarrassed. “I apologize for my youngest’s outburst. At that age, they can be unpredictable.”

  General Graf grunted. “Discipline seems to be an issue in this household.”

  Konrad bristled at the insult, yet held his tongue.

  “Joachim seems a fine lad,” said one of the ladies at the far end, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “How old is he?”

  “Sixteen,” replied Renata.

  “Will he be enlisting?”

  Konrad found his voice. “After university. He’s made it quite clear that he intends to be my commanding officer one day.”

  The table roared with exaggerated laughter, the ice forged by the general’s observation broken.

  “Ahh, to be young! What I would give to be on the front, leading my men into battle. I envy your son. It is a good time to be alive. A good time to be German!” The general at the far end raised his glass. “Heil Hitler!”

  The chorus that responded shook the dinnerware, Konrad joining in with the expected zeal before the dinner resumed. He noted his wife’s hand shaking slightly, and he reached under the table and squeezed her knee gently, offering his support.

  Something was definitely bothering her. These types of gatherings were torturous for her, her anxious nature continually threatening to overwhelm her, but she always soldiered through for him, he knew. It tore him up inside what he was putting her through, yet what choice did they have?

  The alternative could mean imprisonment.

  Or worse.

  He glanced at General Graf and blanched as he caught the man’s eyes staring at the hand on his wife’s knee, the disdain evident.

  There would be no pleasing the man tonight.

  Not until he dealt with poor Griese.

  The boy doesn’t deserve to be sent into battle for one little mistake.

  Yet he had no choice. He couldn’t afford Graf’s wrath. His family couldn’t afford it. Graf clearly felt he had been insulted by the brief moment of embarrassment, and was of the type that demanded retribution.

  Thank God he didn’t execute him right then and there!

  His stomach churned at the thought. Wasn’t that what he was doing to poor Griese? Though things were going well in the east, the Russians would put up a good fight, especially if Moscow wasn’t conquered before the winter set in. Casualties would be high, and Griese, inexperienced as he was, would likely be among those who would die.

  I can’t do it.

  7 |

  Konrad Residence Berlin, Nazi Germany

  Joachim tiptoed down the hallway, tightly gripping his Hitler Youth dagger for courage, cringing as a floorboard creaked underfoot. He froze, listening for any evidence he had been discovered, then resumed, the only sounds coming from the party downstairs.

  A party he was supposed to be observing, though at a distance.

  Yet thanks to his degenerate brother, he had been denied that honor, and likely would be for any future engagements as well.

  He deserves a good beating.

  He reached the door to his parents’ bedchambers and turned the knob, quickly stepping inside and settling on the manner in which he’d deliver the punishment later that night. He closed the door behind him, breathing a little easier at having made it so far, confident he was now in the clear. He made for the window with a view of the side of the house and peered out.

  Good.

  The corporal that had vomited was still there, pacing back and forth, clearly a bundle of nerves. He had to be the one who had created the embarrassing situation with the general earlier, and was absolutely the cause of his brother’s uncontrolled laughter and their eventual dismissal for the evening.

  It had been humiliating, a raucous round of laughter having erupted as he retreated up the stairs, burning with embarrassment. Though it was his brother’s outburst that had resulted in the shameful exit, it was ultimately caused by this corporal’s actions.

  And he had to pay.

  Joachim headed into the bedchambers and toward the vanity in the corner his mother used for her makeup. But it wasn’t her makeup he was interested in, it was the contents of one of the many drawers the handcrafted table contained. Months ago, he had spotted it, unbeknownst to her, when he had rushed into the room unannounced.

  A small pistol.

  A lady’s pistol.

  He had no idea what type it was. It wasn’t anything he had been trained on as it wasn’t military, and he had wondered why she had it, for it was certainly hers. His father wouldn’t have such a dainty weapon.

  Yet none of that mattered.

  It was a weapon, it would have bullets, and he would use it to exact his revenge on the corporal who had embarrassed not only him, but his father, risking his entire family’s future.

  He pulled open the drawer, lipsticks and other things he didn’t understand revealed.

  But no gun.

  His eyes narrowed.

  Maybe it was a different drawer.

  He shoved the drawer closed then pulled open a larger one, a smile spreading as he spotted the pistol grip underneath a large framed photo. He checked over his shoulder to confirm he was still alone, then retrieved the weapon. He examined it for a moment then ejected the magazine, confirming it was loaded.

  He checked again to make sure nobody was looking, then smiled at the sight of his father’s backup holster and Luger hanging on the wall. He drew a deep breath then stuffed his mother’s weapon in his pocket, and was about to close the drawer when he noticed the photo. He picked it up, staring at it, his mind trying to place those it depicted. He recognized his parents among those gathered, though they appeared younger. But who were the others?

  His eyes shot wide as a repressed memory escaped the dungeon he had forced it into long ago. He dropped the photo as if it were as hot as a cast iron pan, scrambling backward, tripping over a pair of his father’s boots, his dagger sailing from his hand as he slammed into the floor.

  It can’t be!

  8 |

  Konrad Residence Berlin, Nazi Germany

  Maximilian’s shoulders shook as he sobbed in his bed, his uniform still on, his pillow held tightly over his head. He had disappointed his father. He had embarrassed him on what was the most important night he could remember. Never before had he been witness to so many senior officers, so many women in dresses. Never before had he seen so many servants, so many fancy cars.

  It had all been so exciting, something he had been looking forward to for days, his father putting so much trust in him to be on his best behavior.

  And he had laughed.

  It was wrong. He knew it. He should never have laughed at the corporal vomiting, but he couldn’t’ help it.

  It was so funny!

  He growled at his mattres
s in frustration. It was that corporal’s fault.

  I hate him!

  A floorboard creaked in the hall and he froze, listening for any evidence as to who it was. It could be a servant, but it could be his mother, coming to see how he was doing after his admonishment, delivered by the help of all things.

  Another creak, farther away, had his chest aching as it was obvious his mother wasn’t coming to console him.

  But who was it?

  He rolled out of bed and opened the door slightly, his eyes widening at the sight of his brother slinking down the hallway toward the back stairs.

  “Joachim! What are you doing?” he hissed.

  His brother spun, his eyes wide with surprise, then glared at him angrily. He held a finger to his lips. “Go to bed,” he whispered harshly.

  Maximilian frowned but retreated back into his room, leaving the door open a sliver, his eye pressed against the crack that remained. His brother disappeared down the stairs.

  Why does he get to rejoin the party?

  He gently opened the door, then, spotting no one, sprinted toward the back stairs and after his brother. He descended the first flight then pressed against the window with a view of the corner of the house. The vomiting corporal was there, still on the side of the house where he had seen him earlier. He was about to resume his pursuit when his jaw dropped at the sight of his brother running along the rear of the house.

  What’s he doing outside?

  His eyes bulged as Joachim drew a gun from his pocket.

  Oh no!

  9 |

  Konrad Residence Berlin, Nazi Germany

  Griese continued his pacing, wearing a path in the grass between two large oak trees. His stomach continued to churn, though thankfully he had managed to control himself since the embarrassing incident several minutes ago. A servant had collected the children, and he hadn’t seen anyone since, so he hoped they were the only ones to witness his terror.