Fraternizing with the Enemy ( Liesl )

[2nd Lt. John P. McCreary]

October 31st, 1944
Vosges Mountains, France

In reserve. His company was in reserve. The Division had moved out and was currently combing through the Vosges Mountains in a push toward the Rhine River in an attempt to end the war. Since his unit was in reserve, they had had little contact with the enemy. But John knew better than to think that the calm before the storm would last all that long. The Germans were not ready to give up the fight—Market-Garden had taught him that, hell, it had taught the brass that. Underestimating them would be a dire mistake. It may have been a chase across Europe, and yes the Allies may have been the cat and the Axis the mouse, but that didn’t mean that they weren’t putting up a fight.

When he had received word that he was supposed to report to HQ for orders, he felt a deep, sinking feeling in his stomach. This was it. They were going to the front. He had trained his men hard, the best way he knew how—like a paratrooper. He may have been in the regular Army now, but once a Screaming Eagle, always a Screaming Eagle. There were some habits he just couldn’t shake, like taking pride in himself and his unit and blousing his trousers over his boots. But he was loyal to the 3ID—he was with a good set of men, men who had seen combat in Africa and Italy while he was still in boot camp. He respected them, and hopefully they would grow to respect him.

He was wearing a tanker jacket opened over his winter fatigues, and his rifle was sitting on his lap as he sat next to the driver—a young private—who had been ordered to take him to HQ. Out of instinct he kept his eyes peeled for enemy activity. He knew he was never going to shake the instincts and habits he had developed under fire. The Great War had affected his father that way. It seemed as if he was so much more aware of his surroundings than everyone else—and it made sense. After spending so much time over there it was impossible not to be changed by it. What worried him was the nightmares. He had heard his father screaming as a child in his sleep, and sometimes even sobbing as his mother tried to calm him down. He had not really understood why until now. He had seen things that frankly he wasn’t keen on remembering, yet would never forget. Tormenting images of mangled bodies and screams of dying men haunted his mind awake and asleep. He didn’t have a yelling problem, and he didn’t let those things obstruct his ability to lead, but what about after the war?

He concluded that there was no point in worrying about it—not until he actually got home, or rather if he returned home. All he could do was keep fighting to survive. In order to survive he had to kill. He didn’t particularly like it but it was necessary. The only way he kept sane, the only way he could rationalize such bloodshed was believing that their war was fought for a just reason. The sacrifices he had seen were all for the cause of freedom and justice. Otherwise it was just senseless carnage that could drive a man mad.

The jeep’s engine hummed lightly as they drove down the road. Light snow lined the road on either side and the trees glistened with the substance. If they weren’t at war John would find the area to be quite beautiful. It was funny how he noticed these things now. Before the war he wouldn’t have given the woods a second thought. He supposed he just appreciated the little things in life more when it was possible that he could be dead within the hour.

Bang!

The private was struck in the forehead by a sniper bullet, and blood splattered over the windshield, his seat, and John’s uniform as well as the man’s. The jeep swerved off the road and he leapt out just as another shot was fired, catching him in the hip. He bit back a cry of pain and crawled behind the fallen jeep, taking cover as the sniper fired again. He felt the warm scarlet patch on his uniform, and upon raising his hand he found it was sticky with blood. Gritting his teeth, he took off his helmet and placed it on the barrel of his rifle. He needed to lure the Kraut out from his hiding place so he could get a clear shot without getting shot again himself. He kept his head down and raised the rifle, the helmet on top, daring the sniper to take a shot. He did, blowing the helmet right off the rifle and the officer turned around, pinpointing the direction the shot had come from. Three hundred meters in front of him and up in the tree line was a grey helmet, and he could see the helmet’s owner hurriedly pulling back the bolt of his rifle. Thank you Rosie the Riveter. John fired twice, right at the man’s face. Both shots hit their target, and the man tumbled out of the tree, landing in a broken heap. John quickly scanned the area again before putting on his helmet and keeping his head down, creeping forward from cover point to cover point. He hunched over painfully, one hand on his side and the other holding his rifle. He was moving slower than he’d like because of the wound in his side, and he prayed that the bullet hadn’t hit some major organ or lodged itself into his ribs. He needed to find an aid station soon, or he had a feeling that he was going to be another battlefield statistic.

The man thought he heard movement and dove behind a tree, sitting on the ground and keeping his back to the bark. Trying to keep his heavy breathing quiet, he peered around the tree’s right side so he could see what was coming.

[Liesl Von Stauffenberg]

The dappled shades of deep and light emerald came into view as the engine of the Kübelwagen echoed through the dense trees of French forest. Liesl’s eyes scanned the forest breathing in a cloud of pine scented air held in place by the forest canapé. Liesl’s pale hands held a box of supplies that was ordered by her superiors to deliver to the front. This was her first time heading to a place such as this. Normally, as young nurse...the most action she would see from this war was either the inside of a medical tent or inside the white washed walls of a hospital.

Everything seemed peaceful; the light chirps from winter birds echoed through the trees and the dulled sunlight would fade in and out of view through the pine needles. It was so serene scene like one out of a storybook…she began to loose herself in thought, thinking about her home back in Austria. Her home seemed just a breath away, yet too far to even touch or grasp physically. A lump began to grow in her throat, she missed her home…and more so her parents. But she knew if she were to head home now there would be dire consequences. She was here to serve the fatherland and only the fatherland. Anything else was probably an act of treason. She couldn't help but wonder if what they were doing was right? was it even worth the risk of loosing so many lives? She shook her head slightly, pushing her doubts out of thought. Her teal-blue eyes wondered across the scenery…she never saw this side of France; it was truly breath taking that something so unique could be hidden beneath all the conflict of war. She couldn’t help but smile to herself.

The officer pulled up to their destination cutting off the engine of the Kübelwagen. He effortlessly stepped out of the vehicle, turning back to bark an order at Liesl. She quickly snapped her attention towards the officer when he told her to exit the vehicle. So much for losing herself in her imagination…she sighed and stepped out of the Kübelwagen. She wore a normal light blue German nurse uniform with her white medical Red Cross arm band displayed vibrantly against the blue of her shirt and some lace up faded brown boots.

The whole assignment seemed to go according to plan…too smoothly. Weird enough, Liesl always thought they’d be under gunfire; luckily at the moment, they weren’t. She let out a deep breath exhaling a light wispy cloud of white…her eyes scanned the perimeter till she spotted a group of German medics. She smiled softly at the medics as she made her way to them; handing the supplies they had requested.

A distant hum of a jeep engine echoed through the silence and muffled German conversations. Liesl quirked her dark chocolate eyebrow slightly when suddenly a soldier spotted an Allied vehicle. Utter chaos broke out in the small camp, one of the officers opened fire and struck the vehicle; causing it to swerve to the side. Liesl gasped more out of shock than terror; an officer saw her just standing there like a “deer in the headlights” and began yelling in obscene orders in German at her. She turned to him as he flailed his arm like some deranged mad men telling her to go take cover somewhere. She couldn't believe that this was happening... actually she didn't want to believe this was happening.

Without any hesitation she ran and took cover behind some trees. She fell to the snow covered ground, knotting her pale fingers through her cascading locks of dark chocolate brown hair, trying to drown out the sound of gunfire. Her eyes were wide with shock as she watched German soldiers being shot down before her. Fear kept her glued against the base of the tree trunk. She couldn’t move…as much as she tried to convince herself to move…her instincts told her to stay put. She turned her gaze away from the blood bath trying to get the images of fallen German soldiers out of her head…she should be use to it…given the fact she has seen many soldiers die before her almost everyday; after all she did choose to become a nurse.

She closed her eyes shut, waiting for the gun fire to die down. After a while there was an unsettling silence and a few distant murmurs in German. She figured it was safe enough to make her way back. She slowly rose to her feet griping her medical bag close to her body as she trudged through the shallow snow. She heard some movement and froze in place…She inhaled sharply scanning wildly along the trees, hoping she wasn’t caught by an Allied soldier.

[2nd Lt. John P. McCreary]

John took off his scarf, lifted his jacket, and pulled up his shirt, exposing his skin to the elements just long enough for him to see the wound and wrap his scarf around it. It looked bad…and frankly it was making him squeamish. It was strange, being squeamish. He had seen men bleeding and dying all the time but it was different when he was the one bleeding and dying. Dying… He was the one dying. If it didn’t hurt so much he would have laughed. He had been afraid of this? Of course it hurt like hell but wouldn’t it be over in a matter of minutes?

This was what men such as himself had feared so much—dying on foreign soil. Frankly right now he didn’t have any feelings toward it. His existence was rather…neutral. He felt as if he was just drifting—not quite dead, not quite alive—but somewhere in between. He could still think but moving hurt. He knew that he had to keep moving if he wanted to live—but did he really want to? His war ended here if he died. Of course he was sure his family would mourn him, but they still had George. He wasn’t their sole source of income, being the younger brother.

Had his life been worthwhile? Had he made a difference? He didn’t know. He had killed a few Germans—and had killed the bastard who had killed him. He had gotten to see Europe again—much more than the short trip he had had after high school. He had learned French, German, and Dutch, and was fluent in all three. That was also an accomplishment. But he knew that he’d simply be another number, another name—John McCreary, KIA.

He wondered how long it would be until they found him. He wasn’t sure how far away from Allied lines he was, but apparently the Germans were closer than command had thought. He wished that he had gotten a chance to tell someone—to warn someone, so the others wouldn’t end up like him. Thus began his delving into the realm of regrets. He regretted not being faster, not avoiding the bullet. He regretted not getting a chance to go to medical school, like he had planned to do once this hell was over. He regretted not spending more time with his family. He regretted not starting a family of his own…

A twig snapping broke him out of his reverie, and he shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut and opening them to fight off unconsciousness. He was losing a lot of blood and hallucinating most likely. How long had he been laying there? The GI slowly got to his feet—more to a crouch than standing up completely—and scanned the area in front of him prior to moving up to another tree. There was someone else here. He could hear it, he could feel it—he just knew. He stared down the iron sights of his M1 rifle as he crept forward again, ignoring the pain in his side. This person…it couldn’t be a friendly. It was another German. He didn’t know if he had spotted him or not, but he was planning on getting the jump on him if he could.

He leaned up against the bark again and waited to see if the area was clear before moving again, as fast as he could, head down, and stopping at the next cover point. It wasn’t the first time he was alone behind enemy lines. That had actually been his first exposure to combat—he had been dropped into Normandy and separated from the rest of his troops until he found Private James Mitchell, a member of his unit. The man—still in his teens—had been gunned down in a matter of minutes. He was the first man he had lost under his command, and his death haunted him to this day.

Perhaps his biggest regret was not being able to save the men under his command who had died. He knew that there was nothing more he could have possibly done, but he couldn’t help but feel guilty. If he had only acted differently, if only he’d been more careful…but one’s mind didn’t last long in this environment dwelling on ‘if onlys.’

He continued moving through the forest, attempting to make as little noise as possible. His side hurt, his lungs hurt—God, everything hurt—and he wished that the Jerry would just show himself so that they could get this over with. He was sick of playing chicken. He spotted something up ahead and kept his rifle raised, circling the figure through the trees as noiselessly as he could muster. He was going for the classic flanking maneuver, and once he finished he’d fire off a round or two and that would be the end of it—quick, clean, and methodic. He finished his circuit and emerged from behind the tree, aiming his weapon right at the Wehrmacht soldier.

Except it wasn’t a soldier. Instead of a man dressed in gray, a woman wearing a blue uniform of sorts was standing right in front of him. The uniform wasn’t American—of that he was certain. He had been in enough field hospitals to recognize an American nurse’s uniform. But she was wearing a red cross armband, so he assumed she was a nurse. Or she could be a spy—the Resistance had women spies, why not the Nazis? In any case he kept his rifle trained on her, once again ignoring the wound, which was still bleeding freely.

“Bleiben Sie immer noch, und ruhig. Wer bist du, was machst du hier?“ he demanded in flawless German. His voice wasn’t harsh. It had a calm, maybe even polite edge to it, but it was firm. He quickly glanced over her to see if she had a weapon—and it didn’t look like she was armed. Why should she be if she was a nurse? But he was still cautious—even if she couldn’t shoot at him, she could still scream, and he could have a hundred Germans on top of him in a matter of seconds. Under normal circumstances he would have noticed that the woman was pretty, but at the moment that seemed irrelevant.

As he waited for a reply, he reached his hand down to his wound again, wincing slightly but keeping the barrel up. He could fire with one arm if he had to—it’d do murder to his arm because of the recoil, but he only needed one shot. He didn’t want to shoot her. Not only did the Geneva Convention forbid him to do so, but it would be cruel and inhumane. But if he had to do it to survive...

He thought of how one of his former company’s medics had been bayoneted by the Germans in Normandy. He had been unarmed too, yet he had been needlessly slaughtered. Wouldn’t shooting her make him exactly like them? No...no it’ll never get to that point. This is different, he assured himself, still keeping his azure eyes fixed on the woman. No it isn't... his mind argued, and he concluded that he would simply hit her with the butt of the rifle if she did scream. He felt his vision blurring, and he blinked, stumbling backward and holding his temple. “Nicht bewegen ...“ he instructed half-heartedly as he collapsed to the ground.

Translations:

Bleiben Sie immer noch, und ruhig. Wer bist du? Was machst du hier? -- Stay still, and quiet. Who are you? What are you doing here?

Nicht bewegen ... – Don’t move...

[Liesl Von Stauffenberg]

The air seemed thin and hard to breath…she was scared, no terrified. Has she wondered too far from the German side and into the Allied territory? Her breathing quickened, God…oh god…. she thought and moved a few more feet in the direction of the German camp. She stopped suddenly when she heard a man’s voice. A feeling of relief struck her, thinking it was a German soldier. She turned to face him but came to the realization that he was not. Liesl gasped sharply when she saw the gun pointed directly at her. He certainly wasn’t a German officer…his uniform was different and not the usual grey that she was use to seeing on a daily basis. She took a step backwards, her heart hanging in her throat as she stared at the Allied soldier.

She has heard nothing but rumors about the Allied soldiers. Given the fact all she would hear on the radio is propaganda, speeches from the Furhur and news from the front. They always stated that the Allies were evil…well, that’s what the Furhur said anyway. She wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt…what if, what they were saying on the radio wasn’t true? Though, it was kind of hard to give him the benefit of the doubt with a gun pointed directly at her. She knew she was protected under the Geneva Convention it was a law, never the less she didn’t know if he would go by the law or not. She has heard of several medical personal being killed in action…most not caught in crossfire.

Liesl swallowed dryly…her heart pounding like the thrumming wings of a caged bird…the color from her pale peachy features diminished. She didn’t know what to do; she gripped her medical big tightly to herself…trembling more out of fear that he might shoot her. A small yelp escaped her lips before she covered her mouth with her hand, compressing any screams for help. A cold feeling came over her, Is he going to shoot me? she thought. The first thing she thought of was her parents…being the only child, she knew that both her parents wouldn’t be able to handle loosing her. Hot tears threatened to spill over her face…her eyes were wide and alert…watching to see what he would do. God…please she prayed…she was still a little put back that the Allied soldier spoke fluently in German, she understood him, but she was too intimidated by the gun to speak.

At this moment she envied the birds that were soaring above the conpe of ever green pine trees. She remembered when she was still a sickly child; she would sneak out of the house and run through the wheat fields as fast as she could, thinking if she could run fast enough she would be able to fly. But she is no bird. As much as she tried she will always end up loosing so many patients that she would loose count…was this god’s way of punishing her? Perhaps her superiors were right...maybe she was too young and inexperienced for a war like this...

She stayed silent and just stared at him with wide eyes. Squeezing her eyes shut, she hunched over gripping her medic bag closer to her body, bracing herself for the bullet to make contact. After a few seconds she opened her eyes, a look of confusion washed over her Germanic features… What was he waiting for? Is he not going to shoot? she thought.

Her eyes began to wonder a bit…she looked him over noticing he was gripping what looked like to be a wound. Is he hurt? she thought. She struggled slightly to form some words with very little English she knew. Her eyebrows furrowed slightly in worry when the soldier began to fade and finally collapse to the snow covered ground. She stood there for a moment…watching as the blood from his wound begin to seep into the snow dying it a deep red.

She looked around, hoping that maybe one of the Allied medics would come around to help. She stood there like a helpless idiot just watching the man bleed out. She looked around one last time if any other soldiers were in the area and let out a sigh, “ Ich werde mich hassen…” she muttered under her breath, She couldn’t just stand there and let this man die…but he was an Ally.

Liesl bit her bottom soft pink lip…debating weather she should help him. What if I’m caught helping him? I could be shot on the spot she thought. She knew fairly well that the Germans don’t take lightly to people helping the enemy. She sucked in a deep breath when she made her decision.

“ Scheiße…” she cursed under her breath. She forced herself to move and cautiously made her way towards the fallen soldier. Once she was close enough, she began to assess the situation, rating him from a scale from 0-3…0 being that he was already dead. She rated him as about a 3…he still had a chance to survive this wound. She uttered an apology as she pressed her hand against his wound to wake him up. Hoping the pain would keep him awake long enough so she could treat him properly.

She pulled back a little, hoping he won’t yell out in pain. She lightly placed a finger to her lips, “I can help.” She hushed in a soft spoken voice. Her voice was so warm and comforting like a light summer breeze or like bells as soft as a psalm, “I-Ich…uhhh....I need you...to stay awake…” she said in broken English. As of right now he was her patient and she was going to treat him the same way as she treated wounded German soldiers. With her free hand she reached into her medical bag and began fumbling around for some bandages, morphine, antibiotics and gauze. This was like second nature to her, she proceeded to work quickly.

Translations:

“ Ich werde mich hassen…” - I'm going to hate me

“ Scheiße…” - Shit

[2nd Lt. John P. McCreary]

The colors around him seemed to dull. The trees, the sky, the clouds—they all seemed black and white, like one of the pictures at the movie theater. He blinked to try to get the colors to come back, but they wouldn’t. Was this what it felt like to die? He wasn’t frightened. No, not at all. It was almost…relaxing, really. Sure he wouldn’t get to go home and see his parents, George, or Anne again. It was a pity. He had promised that he would tell them of everything that had happened to him during the war.

But even if he had survived, he knew that that was a promise that he could not keep. He didn’t know how he would be able to talk to anyone about this. No one would understand. No one except for the people who’d experienced it with him. He didn’t even know if he would want to talk about it with anyone. He wrote letters—letters he never sent—to no one in particular, going into detail about his experiences. It was an exercise to hone his writing skills and also to calm his nerves. The former worked but he wasn’t so sure about the latter.

He was never able to be too specific in his real letters. It wasn’t just that the censors would omit things, but he didn’t want to expose anyone to what he had been through. So for that purpose sometimes the truth had to be bent, for his family’s sake as well as his own. They would be appalled at some of the things he had seen and done. They didn’t need to know everything.

At some point the young officer felt his eyes closing. The snow beneath him seemed like a bed, and the air over him felt like a warm fleece blanket. It was almost as if he was at home again. Home… Had someone found him? Was he finally going home? The nurse had probably made a beeline as soon as he had dropped. He had scared the wits out of her, he was sure. He must have looked a site—haggard, wide-eyed, waving a rifle and bleeding profusely. He wouldn’t have killed her. He didn’t have the heart to—and he still had some humanity left. He couldn’t let this thing strip him of his humanity. They could take his mind, his life, but by God they wouldn’t have his soul.

A sharp pain in his side caused him to regain consciousness and his eyes flew open. His mouth opened to utter a cry of pain, but he didn’t make a sound when he saw the woman hovering over him and gesturing for him to be quiet. The American stared at her, incredulous and delirious. “Are…are you an angel?” he breathed quietly, his eyes wide. Was he already dead? No…no that can’t be, I wouldn’t be able to feel pain… Or was this hell? Maybe he wasn’t as good as a Catholic as he had thought he was—but there was no beauty in hell. He had seen hell—and this wasn’t it. He shook his head a few times, and his eyes finally began to clear in realization. It was the German nurse.

“Was ... was machst du denn hier?” he questioned confusedly. In English, she told him that she would help him. He gazed at her in wonder and shook his head. “Oh nein, keine Sorge, ich kann Deutsch sprechen.“ he told her when he heard her struggling with the words. She instructed him to stay awake and he nodded. “Ich werde versuchen, Fräulein.“ He started looking around at the snowcapped leaves and trees, but those weren’t really helping him stay awake—so instead he focused on the woman’s eyes until she looked into her bag. Still watching her pensively, he stayed silent for a moment or two and then asked, “Warum hilfst du mir? Ich bin ein amerikanischer ... technisch das macht uns Feinde. Würden Sie nicht lieber sehen amerikanischen Schweine ausbluten?” The last few words were uttered sarcastically. That was how their propaganda referred to them at least. He didn’t understand why she would save his life when he was dedicated to seeing her Fatherland fall.

Not only that…but why would she stay in the first place? He had threatened her…not with intent of course but he supposed he was a damn good actor. She was putting herself at risk helping him. He had no intention to hurt her, but he was, as he had said, her enemy. Not only that, but he was fairly certain that this was something akin to treason. He knew that and he was fairly certain that she did too. Why was she doing this? As he waited for her to answer, he wondered how long it would take for HQ and his company to realize that something might have happened to him. Would they come looking for him? Not likely, not when there were clearly Germans in the area. The division probably had its hands full, no doubt.

He wasn’t upset. He didn’t want anyone to go out of their way to find him and put themselves in danger. The wound was his fault—he hadn’t moved fast enough. Why hadn’t he seen the sniper sooner? If he had just spotted him a few moments earlier, the jeep driver would still be alive, he wouldn’t be bleeding to death, and he would be leading his men to the front.

Was that what he had wanted so badly? It wasn’t right for him to sit on the sidelines while others did their fair share and died for it. That was the attitude he had taken when the 501st had tried to give him a desk job. That was what led to him being transferred to an infantry unit. Well he had gotten his wish—and a nasty wound to boot. He could barely move. He took off his helmet and ran a hand through his wavy brown hair, using the helmet to prop his head up and shoving the pain out of his mind.


Translations:

Was ... was machst du denn hier?—What…what are you doing here?
Oh nein, keine Sorge, ich kann Deutsch sprechen. – Oh no, don’t worry, I can speak German.

Ich werde versuchen, Fräulein. – I’ll try, ma’am.

Warum hilfst du mir? Ich bin ein amerikanischer ... technisch das macht uns Feinde. Würden Sie nicht lieber sehen amerikanischen Schweine ausbluten? -- Why are you helping me? I'm an American...technically that makes us enemies. Wouldn't you rather see American swine bleed out?

[Liesl Von Stauffenberg]

A sigh of relief escaped her lips when the soldier woke, now the likely hood of him living was at an even greater possibility. Liesl paused for a second letting the man gain consciousness before proceeding. Liesl quirked her eyebrow, the soldier’s comment seemed rather off beat since he was after all her enemy…it just seemed strange hearing it from an Allied soldier than a German. ”Angel? Hmm ... habe nicht gehört, dass man in eine Weile.” she muttered under her breath. Liesl was a bit surprised that the soldier was actually cooperating with her…she thought he would be more reluctant…or in other words disgusted that she wanted to help him. She made slight eye contact with him before tarring her gaze away and back into her bag.

As she laid out her supplies to treat his wound, she listened intently as he spoke to her. It was strange to hear an Allied soldier speak German fluently as he did…his accent would at times fade in and out a little, but over all he did speak German quite well…at least he knew she was trying to help him. But his question even as sarcastic as it was, seemed like daggers. Why was she helping him…was it out of guilt? Guilt, that her country took part so easily in this useless war? Guilt that it would be a disgrace to say that she is Germanic?

Regardless to what she thought or even what he thought…she wanted to help this soldier. It was by her choice after all. She knew that she would regret leaving the soldier there to bleed to death, “ Mir wurde beigebracht, ein menschliches Leben in einem hohen Bezug zu halten ... was macht das schon, wenn Sie Amerikaner sind? Wir sind nicht anders als wir an der Schwelle des Todes stehen.” she said quietly.

The Allied soldier still frightened her to some extent…her gaze fell upon the rifle for a second then back to her bag; she sighed a little turning her gaze back to the soldier, “N-not all of us are graced with such kindness in time of war…” she paused for a moment struggling a little with English. Liesl was known for her stubbornness…though in this situation, sticking to her native tongue would have made it easier; however, she was too stubborn to make the language barrier easy on herself, “I feel that maybe everyone deserves a chance to live…w-why take a life when t-there is a chance to spare it?” she said in a softened tone.

A hidden smile wavered on her lips briefly, before she directed her attention back to the task at hand…which was patching up the Allied soldier. She took the antibiotic syrette, uncapped it and administered it to the soldier so his wound won’t get infected. She gave his wound a quick wipe, placing the gauze in the place where her hand was and began using the medical tape to tightly keep the gauze in its place and to keep him from bleeding out.

She raised her eyebrow slightly admiring her work for a moment, before helping the soldier up into a sitting position against a tree, “ Wie fühlen Sie sich?”She asked casually as if she was just talking to just another patient. She looked him over; he didn’t seem to lose too much blood as she thought he did. She didn’t particularly know how to do small talk…it seemed that every time she would, she would just shrivel into this stuttering awkward turtle. She figured just asking the patient how they were, was enough and she would be able to move on with her life without getting too attached.

It would be rather problematic if that happened. She couldn’t…actually won’t be able to handle the death of a soldier she knew. She always tried to keep her emotions out of her line of work…though her emotions at times were as clear as the Red Cross armband on her arm…her emotions usually gets her into trouble with her superiors…not to mention her occasional out bursts against unruly German officers. She rolled her eyes slightly at the thought, turning her attention back at the Allied soldier. Even though he was an Ally…she wanted to be sure that he was strong enough to walk.

She knew what the propaganda was saying about the Americans…but for some reason, now that she’s actually met one in person. He did not seem at all like how the Third Reich depicted the Americans in the short films, posters and in the radio. He didn’t look at all like some dangerous monster that Hitler claimed that the Americans were. She blinked a little finding herself staring at him. Her pale rose cheeks flushed a shade of dark pink; her eyebrows furrowing a little as she averted her eyes from him.

Translations:

”Angel? Hmm ... habe nicht gehört, dass man in eine Weile.” – Angel? Hmm…haven’t heard that in a while…

“ Mir wurde beigebracht, ein menschliches Leben in einem hohen Bezug zu halten ... was macht das schon, wenn Sie Amerikaner sind? Wir sind nicht anders als wir an der Schwelle des Todes stehen.” - I was taught to hold a human life in a high regard...what does it matter if you are an American? We are no different when we are at death's door.

“ Wie fühlen Sie sich?” – How are you feeling?

[2nd Lt. John P. McCreary]

John stared up at the nurse as she worked, still shocked that she would go out of her way to help him. He was so used to carnage and cruelty that it seemed almost commonplace. The world looked so much different from how he had viewed it before he came to France. He had seen humanity as generally good save for a few oddballs like Hitler whose main goal in life was to make everyone’s else’s life a living hell. But now…he had seen so much brutality, so much of man’s survival instinct taking precedence over compassion and humanity. There were good deeds done here and there, but if there was anything the war had taught him it was that the world was a dark, dark place. He hoped that his ‘work’ here would change that, but that all depended on the Allies winning.

But then here was a German nurse saving his life—saving him, her enemy. He listened as she told him that she valued all human life, and that in the end it didn’t matter what nationality a dying man was. He nodded slightly at her question and lay there silently in thought before adding, “Das ist eine sehr einzigartige Sicht.” He was aware that in reality they were in many ways the same. In a different time and place he could have been friends with the men he was shooting at. They were, after all, the same age more or less, and could have some of the same interests. What separated them were borders and nationalism. But he didn’t think about that. No one did. That made killing other human beings that much harder.

He had to believe—to a certain degree—that the Germans were monstrous pigs who wanted to bayonet babies. It was much easier to slay a dragon than a man. He remembered his first kill distinctly. He had just dropped into Normandy and was weaving his way through the thick hedgerows. He had whispered the password, and as a response was met with a shot from a Mauser. He took cover and sprayed the Wehrmacht soldier with his tommy gun. He recalled the frozen look of pain and shock on the dead man’s features. It was still etched into his memory and he doubted that it would go away anytime soon. He had felt guilty and sick as he had looked at him. His hands felt dirty and bloody. He couldn’t come to grips with the fact that he had killed someone. He had to push it away to continue to mission, and was able to move on, but he was still aware that he had taken the life of another human being. He still wasn’t necessarily proud of his actions, but they had been done for the purpose of survival.

The only way he could keep a clear head was not to put too much thought into the lives he had taken. He was here to do a job. The sooner he got it over with, the sooner he would be home. He had to think like that or else he would go insane or get himself and his men killed. It wasn’t for heroics or pride or glory, it was for survival. Winning meant surviving, and surviving meant killing—it was as simple as that.

His eyes met hers again when she spoke in English. Kindness… He never would have expected kindness from a German. “Thank you—danke.” he repeated in German, returning her brief smile with a grateful one. She had saved his life, of that he was certain. ‘Thank you’ didn’t seem like enough, but what else could he do? He sat there and listened to the rest of her statement silently. She honestly didn’t care? “So…you don’t believe any of the things they say about us?” he inquired, cocking a dark eyebrow in surprise. It was almost difficult to believe—but here she was helping him. He knew that the whole Wehrmacht wasn’t made up of Nazis but still…this was highly unusual to say the least.

The soldier watched her work quietly and looked up when she asked how he felt. “Es schmerzt immer noch ein wenig, aber es ist nicht so schlimm. Und ich weiß nicht wie benommen fühlen.” he responded with a nod and another slight smile. He hesitated a moment and then asked, in English, “Am I permitted to know the name of my rescuer?” He quickly added, “At least so I know who I am thanking…I’ll even tell you my name. It’s John McCreary—Lieutenant John McCreary…or Jack, if you prefer.” It was informal and positively abnormal, but this was about as abnormal as one could get. He was behind enemy lines being treated by an enemy nurse for a wound received by the enemy.

He noticed that she was staring at him, and his eyes met hers in confusion. They both were quiet for a while and then he saw her blush and look away. He glanced after her and stated softly, “Sie haben wunderschön Augen.” It was such a sudden and haphazard comment, but it wasn’t because he was in terrible pain and delusional. His face was completely serious as he said this, but soon he found himself looking away and changing the subject. “Wie schlimm ist es?” he questioned, referring to the wound in his side. She didn’t seem to give any indication that it was worse than he knew it to be, but still he would like to know. It did feel a lot better than it did when he had first received it. He attributed that to him not bleeding all over the place thanks to her treatment. He did appreciate what she had done for him, and he wished there was some way he could repay her. It was highly doubtful that he would ever be able to do so, as after this encounter he was almost completely certain that they would never see each other again.

Translations:



Das ist eine sehr einzigartige Sicht. – That’s a very unique point of view.

Es schmerzt immer noch ein wenig, aber es ist nicht so schlimm. Und ich weiß nicht wie benommen fühlen. – It still hurts a little, but it's not as bad. And I don't feel as dizzy.

Sie haben wunderschön Augen.— You have beautiful eyes.

Wie schlimm ist es? – How bad is it?

[Liesl Von Stauffenberg]

Liesl looked at the soldier with a quizzical look when he asked if she didn’t believe in the things that the Third Reich has said about the Americans, “I-I….”she stammered, becoming silent for a few moments, “Well, what about you? Do I look like a monster that your propaganda claims me to be?” She mused. Liesl didn’t particularly know how to answer the Allied soldier; it still seemed very strange conversing with him…it felt really different from conversing with the injured German soldiers. Even though she felt she could tell him anything…like what she believed and her values but, the foreboding feeling hanging over her head made her feel uneasy. She felt that the Germans were just hovering over them just waiting for the right moment and kill her for treason.

Liesl felt scared of some sort…was she doing the right thing when she decided to help this man? The thought of standing before a firing squad sent chills down her spine. When the soldier spoke, she couldn’t help but smile when he said that he was feeling better, “Good…I’m…how do you say…Happy to hear that you are not dizzy…” she said with a small smile. To her, that was good news…she must have done something right then. A warm feeling of success and accomplishment bubbled in her stomach. But, she still wasn’t sure if he would be able to walk back to the Allied side of the forest.

Her smile quickly faded when he asked for her name. She has never…actually rarely ever gave her name to any of her patients. She didn’t want to deal with mourning the loss of a soldier and having it affect the way she did her job. And dam…she was good at keeping herself from being attached to a patient…but God…he was making things rather difficult.

She thought for a moment and figured, Well…it’s not like our paths will ever cross again after this . She listened quietly as he introduced himself. Strange…was the first thing she thought when she heard it. It wasn’t strange in a bad way…just different from the Friedricks, Rodricks, Claus, Kurts…actually any German name she was use to. “I-I don’t normally give my name to my patients…though I suppose I can make an acceptation…” she said struggling slightly, “Liesl…its Liesl, Liesl Von Stauffenberg.” She hesitated.

“J-John…right?” asked Liesl, “M-McCreary? Am I saying it correctly?” she said with a nervous smile plastered on her soft pink lips. Her accent got the best of his last name…she felt horrible “butchering” his lat name with her accent. Liesl thought John was rather appealing…not that it mattered that she found him quite attractive. She had other things to worry about. Right now she needed to focus and figure out how John will even be able to head back to the Allies if he could not walk. Her eyebrows furrowed again slightly.

“E-Es tut mir leid ich wollte nicht zu starren ....” she mumbled off to the side, flushing a deeper shade of pink when he complimented her. It was really bizarre to have someone like him compliment her…actually anyone. Frankly Liesl always thought of herself as plain…or not as pretty as other girls. They had golden blond locks and not to mention eye catching blue eyes. Liesl felt herself sink back a little into her knees…she wanted to sink into the snow and disappear.

They were quiet for a moment…she could still hear distant German murmurs and the wind blowing through the pine trees, her eyes shifted back on to John, when he broke the awkward silence, “ Es war nicht so schlimm wie ich dachte ... dankbar sein, die Kugel nicht zu schlagen keine großen Arterien ... du wirst leben, das verspreche ich Ihnen.” she said checking his wound if the bandages were still keeping him from bleeding out.

She smiled an assuring smile at John, hoping that he would be able to walk. She figured it was time to put the supplies she used away…she reached over for the medical tape and noticed she still had John’s blood on her hands; if she went back to the German camp with blood over her hands they might question her. She feared more so for John’s life than her’s at the moment…it was odd that she would; but…as of this moment he was still her patient, she felt obligated to keep him alive and as long as she could.

Liesl bit her bottom lip slightly her hands were already freezing at this point, but she had to get rid of the blood on her hands. If they asked her who she was helping…regardless if she lied to them and said the person was another German officer…dead or not, they will go out and investigate…the scariest part was that they must be searching for her. Liesl grabbed a hand full of snow that wasn’t dyed red from John’s open wound and began harshly scrubbing to try and get the blood off.



Translations:

“E-Es tut mir leid ich wollte nicht zu starren ....”- I-I'm sorry I didn't mean to stare....

“ Es war nicht so schlimm wie ich dachte ... dankbar sein, die Kugel nicht zu schlagen keine großen Arterien ... du wirst leben, das verspreche ich Ihnen.” - It wasn't as bad as I thought...be thankful the bullet didn't strike any major arteries...you'll live, I promise you.

[2nd Lt. John P. McCreary]

John was taken aback slightly by the hesitation in her voice. Did she not agree with Nazi policy—or at least their views toward Americans? That was odd…he knew that surely not everyone in Germany believed in their insane political ideas, but she was a nurse for their army. Did she not support the propaganda designed to build up the Germans’ morale? His question was soon backfired when she asked him the same thing regarding her. She had not answered his question. Nevertheless he answered hers without a bit of hesitation. “No. I don’t. They don’t want us to think it but the only difference often times between us is the uniform. Things are blown completely out of proportion I think. But sometimes…sometimes I have to talk myself into believing it. It makes my line of work a hell of a lot easier—a heck, a heck of a lot easier.” he amended, remembering that he was supposed to be a gentleman around delicate ears. “I’m sorry, ma’am.”

It did make it much easier. He didn’t like viewing the people he killed as people. It made it too hard, and it took a toll on his conscience. He knew he had done what he had to for survival and in service to his country, but he could not help thinking that if he had killed anyone in his civilian life he would be either thrown into jail or strapped to an electric chair. Yet here they were praised for it. It was commonplace, necessary. All of these deaths were for a reason. They had to be. It couldn’t all be senseless carnage and endless bloodshed. He had to believe that they were all worth something, all an advancement toward winning the war.

Winning the war… Winning the war meant killing Germans. Here he was being shown kindness by a German. Yes she was a nurse, but still—this certainly altered his perception of the country in general. Despite his knowledge otherwise he tended to group them all into the fanatical group known as the Nazi party. But she didn’t seem like a crazed lunatic who wanted all non-Aryans dead for the advancement of the thousand-year Reich. She seemed…normal—but not normal, extraordinary and courageous for helping him.

He gazed up at her again as she worked and a smile spread across his face when she smiled at him and indicated that she was happy to know he wasn’t dizzy. “Yes…I’m feeling much better than I did before…” It was still such an odd experience—being shot by a sniper’s bullet. He hadn’t ever been shot before—he’d gotten shrapnel lodged in his skin and had spent a few days in a field hospital, but he had never experienced the sensation of being hit with a bullet until now. It’d be an interesting thing to write home about, that was for sure. He would have to refrain from going into detail so not to worry his parents and siblings…he would have to pen the full story later if there was a later.

He frowned in disappointment as she stated that she didn’t give her name to her patients. He supposed he understood—her patients could be dead within the hour—and he didn’t think she trusted him. But then she went on to give him her name anyway. “Liesl…” he repeated, smiling again. “It’s pretty. Well, Liesl, when this mess is over with I owe you dinner and a dance.” he added half-jokingly. If he was alive when this bloodbath ended—if either of them were alive. “Ever been to New York? I grew up there…has some of the best dance halls in the world. It’s a wonderful city.” A wonderful city half a world away that I may never set eyes on again. He could not afford to think like that but it usually happened. He couldn’t help but wonder if he would make it out of the war alive. He considered himself lucky to have made it out of France and Holland alive. Now he was back in France in a push toward Germany—if they could shove back the German lines and take Berlin, then they could all go home. Of course he knew the war with Japan was still raging and there was a possibility that he may be sent to that conflict after this ended, but he would cross that bridge when he came to it—if he came to it.

John nodded when she pronounced his first name. At her question as to whether she was pronouncing his last name right, he shrugged and smiled patiently. “It’s very close. But it’s alright, really, you can just call me John.” It was nice, someone calling him by his first name again. Most of his officer friends just called him ‘Jack’ or ‘McCreary’, and of course his superiors and the enlisted men all referred to him as ‘Lieutenant McCreary’, ‘the Lieutenant’, or simple ‘Lieutenant’. But to her apparently he was just John.

“Nein, nein, es in Ordnung ist, nicht leid tun.” he responded quickly when she apologized for staring at him. He paused for a few moments and then said, “Ein Mann hat das Glück, die Aufmerksamkeit von einer so schönen Frau zu gewinnen.” As he finished speaking he looked up at her to see her reaction. He was being rather forward, but her saving him was like something out of one of his favorite novels. A fallen soul had been rescued by an angel and brought back to life. He was extraordinarily grateful to her. Frankly he had never met anyone quite like her—he’d never met one of the enemy, except for prisoners, which was different because they were prisoners, and none of them were trying to save his life.

“Das ist gut, ich bin sehr froh - sehr dankbar.” he answered with a half-smile when she assured him that he was going to be fine. He looked behind him at the path that he had taken from the road. Once he got there he had a good idea of how to get back to base. He was feeling a lot stronger now that the bleeding had stopped—he hoped that walking wouldn’t be a challenge. “I really appreciate you doing this for me—I can’t thank you enough.” he repeated his gratitude as he stared up at her with a thankful grin. He knew how much she was risking for him. If there was any way to pay her back, he would.

He watched as her hands shook, and could see his own blood on them. She began rubbing them off in the snow and reached down to his cartridge belt, opening his canteen cover and pulling out his canteen of water. Thankfully the water was not yet frozen. It was cold but it would help with the task of getting the blood off. “Here. Use this.” He unscrewed the cap and offered the water to her, and then pulled his handkerchief from his pocket for her to dry her hands when she was finished. He could always get another one later. “Are you cold? You can use my gloves if you’d like…” he offered, slipping off his leather issue winter gloves and holding them out as well.


Translations:

Nein, nein, es in Ordnung ist, nicht leid tun. – No, no, it’s alright, don’t be sorry.

Ein Mann hat das Glück, die Aufmerksamkeit von einer so schönen Frau zu gewinnen. – A man is lucky to attract the attention of such a beautiful woman.

Das ist gut, ich bin sehr froh - sehr dankbar. – That's good, I'm very glad—very grateful.

[Liesl Von Stauffenberg]

Liesl listened as he spoke, she was glad he didn’t see her as what the Americans had depicted Germans to be. She was a little apprehensive when he continued his statement…though she was not very surprised with his answer…she knew this war changed people.

She let out a sigh and spoke, “It’s alright…n-no need to apologize.” she said quietly, “It’s true…I disagree a lot with what the party says…but, you don’t know what it is like.” She struggled a bit, “I-I…know it may not seem much to you but, not all of us wanted to be part of this.” She paused for a moment, “ Es ist beängstigend, denken Sie, ist es einfach nur um nicht an das Dritte Reich sagen? Nein zu sagen, sie ist Verrat gegen das Land …gegen das Vaterland. Alles, was wir sagen, gegen die Partei ist Verrat ... was ich im Moment tun wird senden Sie mir eine einfache Fahrt zum Erschießungskommando.” Liesl lowered her eyes as she spoke, “ Ich habe Angst, was passieren könnte ... aber ich bereue nicht helfen zu können. Du bist ein Mensch so viel wie ich bin ... Was unterscheidet Sie? Weil mir sehe ich nicht die blutrünstigen Bestie ...” She said with a small smile on her lips.

She let out a small laugh to ease the tension in the air; Liesl couldn’t help but flush a shade of pink again when John said her name was pretty. She kinda thought her name was a bit plain…just as much as she found herself to be plain. It was a bit weird the way he pronounced her name…but, it was nice to hear it from a different person who wasn’t Germanic…or German in general.

Liesl listened quietly as John began to ramble off about his home and joke about taking her to dinner and dancing, “Dinner and a dance? Hmmm… Ich vermute, dass Sie auf alle Krankenschwestern Sie ja treffen?” She joked, “Nein…I haven’t been to New York…” she said in an embarrassed tone, “Your home sounds nice…nothing like my home in Carinthia…i-its…ermm…a state in Austria.” she said after he spoke, “T-there is…lots of farmland where I come from…lakes…trees…seas of golden wheat that stretches from horizon to horizon…” her voice trailed off slightly at the end as she spoke. She bit her lower lip to keep herself from being homesick…she had to remind herself she was here to do a job.

She smiled nervously when he didn’t correct her when she tried to pronounce his last name, “Are you sure?” she asked. Liesl was so use to using Herr and using the person’s last name in a more formal manner. She didn’t want to be rude…but he did insist, “Hmm…John it is then.” She said with a smile, “I Like saying your name…It’s…how do you say….different.” she said with a smile, “John.” She repeated again.

Liesl flushed a deeper shade of pink at his comment and began to fidget a little, “Umm…” she stammered. She figured she might have looked as red as a cherry at this point. She’s not one to be easily flustered by a few compliments…but this was different. It was definitely surreal and odd and certainly unbelievable. No one would even look her way not even compliment her like John does…maybe it was because she decided to help him and he was just trying to find some way to thank her. She frowned slightly at the thought and figured he must be somewhat delusional from the blood loss.

She cleared her throat avoiding eye contact with John at the moment, “No need to thank me…” she said quietly, “It’s my job…I’m suppose to help wounded soldiers.” She said still looking away from him. She was happy that she was able to help him…now hopefully he was strong enough to walk. Her gaze fell back on John, she blinked looking at him grin happily at her…it was weird having someone who was suppose to be her enemy…an enemy of her country openly and smiling at her on their own free will. She couldn’t help but to smile back at him. She felt like she had swallowed a truck load of butterflies…she was happy that he was feeling better and the fact that he was glad she stayed to help him was all worth while

She directed her attention back to her hands and continued to try and get as much blood off her hands. She didn’t notice until John used his water from his canteen to help, “Uhh…N-Nein…d-don’t you need that.” She said in a breathy tone…she watched as he pulled out his handkerchief and handed it to her to dry her hands with...she stammered a little…words seemed to fail her.

She silently took his handkerchief and dried her hands lightly with it. Her eyes shifted back to him when he asked if she was cold, watching him remove his gloves, “N-no…you’re awfully kind…but, you need it more than me.” She insisted, but too late he already removed his gloves and was holding it out to her. She sighed a bit taking the gloves, “Again…you are too kind to be treating an Austrian such as myself like this…” she joked softly.


Translations:

“ Es ist beängstigend, denken Sie, ist es einfach nur um nicht an das Dritte Reich sagen? Nein zu sagen, sie ist Verrat gegen das Land .. gegen das Vaterland. Alles, was wir sagen, gegen die Partei ist Verrat ... was ich im Moment tun wird senden Sie mir eine einfache Fahrt zum Erschießungskommando.” - It's frightening, do you think it is easy just to say no to the Third Reich? Saying no to them is treason against the country…against the Fatherland. Anything we say against the party is treason...what I am doing right now will send me a one way ticket to the firing squad.

“ Ich habe Angst, was passieren könnte ... aber ich bereue nicht helfen zu können. Du bist ein Mensch so viel wie ich bin ... Was unterscheidet Sie? Weil mir sehe ich nicht die blutrünstigen Bestie ...” - I'm scared of what might happen...but I don't regret helping you. You are human as much as I am...what makes you different? Because to me I don't see the blood thirsty beast...

“Dinner and a dance? Hmmm… Ich vermute, dass Sie auf alle Krankenschwestern Sie ja treffen?” - I'm guessing you use that on all the nurses you meet yes?

[2nd Lt. John P. McCreary]

John was silent as Liesl explained how she didn’t necessary agree with the key tenants of the Nazi party. She then went on to say not all of the German people had wanted to be a part of the war, which was understandable. He knew it was impossible for everyone in a country to agree with one political party, but what struck him was the overwhelming majority that backed Hitler. He remembered listening to his father chatting with his friends about how hard the Depression had hit Europe, and how most of the German people had scrambled to elect Hitler as their chancellor. He doubted anyone was aware of the ramifications of his election at the time, but he read the news. The nations of Europe—and even the American president—had been willing to appease Germany. He didn’t blame the Allied leaders—they were simply trying to prevent another Great War, but it had backfired. Now here they were, and there was no changing the past.

He listened as she explained that the people had been living in fear. He realized that—Hitler had dictatorial powers and his party enforced his rule with an iron fist. But she was also right, he didn’t understand. He had grown up in a country whose Constitution guaranteed him freedom to speak his mind, and held the government accountable if that freedom was ever taken away. But she had been living in tyranny. And that’s why we’re here… They were here to liberate the ‘oppressed peoples of Europe’ as Eisenhower had said in the speech handed out before Overlord. Things had seemed so black and white then. They were the cowboys, the Nazis were the Indians. They were the heroes, the Germans were the villains. But after experiencing combat things didn’t seem as simple. Now things were especially complicated because of her act of kindness.

Human. She saw him as human—not the enemy, not an American, but another human being. “Thank you.” he replied, looking up at her. “I suppose…the only thing that does make us different is the fact that our countries don’t like each other very much.” he answered with a slight chuckle to ease the tension.

“Hättest du nicht weglaufen?” He had heard of the refugee trains from Europe to Africa and eventually America. There was a larger influx of immigrants coming into the Hudson Bay ever since Hitler started his reign of terror. Sometimes he and his brother would go to the docks and watch the ships come in—men, women, and children all tired and haggard but relieved to be on American soil. He didn’t understand why at the time, but as he grew older he began to make sense of it.

He fell silent again when she spoke of the risks that came with helping him. “Ich wünschte, es gäbe etwas, das ich tun, um Sie im Gegenzug helfen könnte ...” he stated sadly. Truth be told he was worried—she didn’t deserve to be shot. But what could he do? He was again, the enemy. All he could do was hope that she wasn’t found out…

He shook his head when she asked if he used that line on all the nurses he met. “Nein, überhaupt nicht. Ich kann nicht sagen, ich habe eine Krankenschwester ganz wie Sie vorher getroffen. Sie würden die ersten sein .” he said honestly, locking his eyes with hers. His smile returned as she told him of her home in Austria. He had heard of Carinthia, as in his youth he used to spend his time poring over maps of Europe and dreaming of visiting cities such as London, Paris, Vienna, and Berlin, but he was by no means an expert in geography. However he enjoyed listening to her describe her homeland. It sounded far different than Douglaston in Queens. Though not as loud and crowded as the city itself, it was no means idyllic. They were, after all, just outside the city. “Douglaston—it’s a community not far from the city—was where I lived. There are rows and rows of houses and shops—not all too different from the city proper—and we have a little bay right down the road from my house where my father and brother and I would go fishing. Sometimes I’d row out in a boat and other times I’d walk along the shore and dig for clams. I’d go swimming there with my friends in the summer…my father and my older brother and I drove up to the country on the weekends to go hunting—it was so much quieter there…your home sounds wonderful. I think when all this is over I would like to find a nice, peaceful, isolated spot of land in the country and do some writing. After that I might go to medical school—put people back together instead of taking them apart. What about you? What do you want to do when this is over?” he asked, looking up at her.

He grinned when she commented on his name. It was such a plain, common name, he had thought. But she made it sound a lot better, a lot less ordinary. He watched as she blushed at his compliment and looked away. Yes, he was being forward. He didn’t say anything else and withdrew his attention from her again, thinking that she thought him rude.

“But not me…not American soldiers. I owe you my life.” he answered emphatically. He was never going to forget what she had done. It wasn’t simply the fact that she had saved his life—but rather that Axis military personnel she was endangering herself in the process. He almost—he did feel guilty for putting her in danger. “I didn’t mean to scare you before.” he said suddenly. “I’m sorry…it’s…it’s just I’m used to always being on my guard.”

He smiled broadly as she smiled down at him. She had a radiant smile—it was a comment he was going to keep to himself, though. He was talking too much, and making a fool out of himself. But it was true. He gazed at her again as she cleaned her hands and slowly began to sit up, dusting some of the snow off of his back. “No…no please, use as much as you need, I don’t mind. I don’t drink too much of it anyway.” It was true. He supposed the habit went back to jump school when their instructor would make a man run twice as far if he took even a sip of water from his canteen. Naturally he wasn’t a heavy drinker.

“No…it’s fine, Liesl.” he insisted when she said that he needed his gloves more than she did. He didn’t want her to be shot, and preventing that was worth freezing hands. He smiled when she said that he was too kind for treating her this way, but shrugged, wrapping his arms around his knees casually. “It’s like you said yourself. You’re human as much as I am.”

Translations:


Hättest du nicht weglaufen? – Couldn’t you have run away?

Nein, überhaupt nicht. Ich kann nicht sagen, ich habe eine Krankenschwester ganz wie Sie vorher getroffen. Sie würden die ersten sein. – No, not at all. I can't say I've met a nurse quite like you before. You would be the first.

[Liesl Von Stauffenberg]

“ Hättest du nicht weglaufen? ” she repeated quietly, “ Wie viele Deutsche glauben Sie, haben keine an die Partei gesagt und gelebt hat? Diesem Ort ... Land, ich komme aus ist weit entfernt von dem, was du für richtig halte. ” she asked giving John a quizzical look. It was true, anyone who ever did say no against Hitler were marked for death and a traitor to his or her country. Everything was for the fatherland...that was the mentality of most of the Germanic nations and its people. Everyone else who did not follow Hitler were just ants waiting to be crushed by his boot.

Liesl stayed silent as the soldier spoke…his voice hinted a bit of worry. She smiled at him, “I don’t think there would be anything you could do to help…I know the consequences of my actions.” She uttered quietly. Her eyebrows furrowed subtly…everything that was coming out of her mouth seemed so alien to her. It still felt weird having just a normal conversation with the American. She should be hissing and cursing at him as if he were something revolting and repulsive. But no…she saw him as nothing more than human as she. How could he be some blood thirsty beast that the party claimed him to be? Well given…he was the only American she met in person…others might react differently.

Liesl raised her eyebrow slightly…she was a bit put back when John stated that she was the first nurse that he had ever said that to, “ Nun, das ist schön zu wissen ... Ich nehme an ... Ich weiß nicht sehr viel Komplimente bekommen ...” she replied, looking back into his eyes, “Du bist nicht so schlecht, selbst ich denke ...” she said trying to be polite. She couldn’t help but blush again. God! Why the heck was she getting so flustered around him!? Again…she never found herself as pretty as other girls…what did he see?

Perhaps some pale —awkward, dark haired Austrian nurse who was just kind enough to help someone like him. She gave him an awkward smile brushing some of her dark chocolate locks away from her face.

She let out a sigh relaxing slightly, listening to John talk about his home Douglaston. It slightly reminded her about the nursing school in Vienna, Austria...well the rows of shops part. She smiled as he spoke…he sounded so…she couldn’t quiet put her finger on it. He was rather different from the usual people she would meet. John seemed so content as he spoke of his home and what he did. She figured he must be homesick…Europe was nothing like that…though maybe in some ways similar. She could almost imagine the places he said…the bay…the serene sound of the waves crashing against the shore…

“Sounds interesting…” she said with a beaming smile on her face, “In Carinthia, my family had a farm…we just grew wheat…nothing special…well, that was before the depression hit Europe and we had to sell our farm and move to Vienna for a better life I suppose…” she said quietly, “I was never really allowed outside as much when I was a child, while growing up in Carinthia.” she smiled slightly, “I was rather how do you say…weak…my parents were very protective, they thought if I pushed myself even doing the most easiest of tasks or just playing outside with other children that my health would just deteriorate.” She looked off to the side, “But you know…sometimes I would sneak out into the wheat fields…and I would run through the field as fast as I could through the field.” She said slowly turning her gaze back to John, “I use to think…if I could run fast enough…maybe god would turn me into a bird and I could fly away from all my troubles.” She laughed slightly at the thought.

“You’re dream for the future sounds nice John…I hope you’ll be able to reach it when the war ends…” She said in an interested tone…it was nice to know that he wanted to help people after this war. She sat back on her knees when he asked her about her future plans after the war, “Ich bin nicht sicher ... Ich nehme an, Reisen? Ich habe nie die Welt ohne Krieg gesehen ... es wäre eine nette Abwechslung sein, und wahrscheinlich werde ich nach einer Reise zurück nach Kärnten, öffne meine eigene Klinik ...” she said softly with a smile on her face.

She just smiled when he insisted that he owed her his life and touched his hand gently to make him stop rambling. “Don’t apologize…I would have reacted the same way if I was in your shoes…it’s hard to tell these days if someone is trying to help you or cause you harm.” She said with a slight laugh. She looked down noticing that she was kinda holding his hand. She flushed a shade of pink again, letting go of his hand. “Uhh…well…we are under abnormal circumstances…don’t you think?” she said nervously.

Liesl gave him a quizzical look when he stated that he didn’t drink much, “Glauben Sie nicht brauchen Flüssigkeiten?” she asked in a slightly worried tone. She was quite worried about John, she didn’t want him to be shot by the Germans…he seemed too kind to be called a monster let alone be killed. She smiled lightly, slipping on the gloves he handed her, “You know…John…maybe after this war I should find the time to give these items back to you.” She said referring to the handkerchief and his gloves.

Translations:

, “ Wie viele Deutsche glauben Sie, haben keine an die Partei gesagt und gelebt hat? Diesem Ort ... Land, ich komme aus ist weit entfernt von dem, was du für richtig halte. ” - How many do you think German, have no say in the party and lived? This place ... Country, I come from is far away from what you believe is right.

“ Nun, das ist schön zu wissen ... Ich nehme an ... Ich weiß nicht sehr viel Komplimente bekommen ...” – Well, that’s nice to know…I-I guess…I don’t get a lot of cmpliments.

“Du bist nicht so schlecht, selbst ich denke ...” – you don’t look too bad yourself.

“Ich bin nicht sicher ... Ich nehme an, Reisen? Ich habe nie die Welt ohne Krieg gesehen ... es wäre eine nette Abwechslung sein, und wahrscheinlich werde ich nach einer Reise zurück nach Kärnten, öffne meine eigene Klinik ...” - I'm not sure ... I take it traveling? I've never seen the world without war ... It would be a nice change, and I probably will after a trip back to Carinthia, open my own clinic ...

[2nd Lt. John P. McCreary]

John was silent when the nurse explained that openly disagreeing with the Third Reich was simply a death sentence. There had been no way out. He tried to imagine living in fear of reprisal simply because he didn’t agree with the political party in power. The United States by nature encouraged debate and discussions across the country, in the little towns and the bustling cities. He couldn’t imagine having his rights silenced. That was what led him and countless others to serve…if they lost the war they would be just as bad as the Germans and every country under their control. “Es tut mir leid…” he managed to say softly after a bit of time had passed. “Wenn das hier vorbei ist ... vielleicht Dinge anders sein wird.” he suggested optimistically. That was if the Allies won…but what would that mean for her?

He frowned when she said that there was nothing he could do to help. “It’s not fair…” Then again when was life ever fair? If life was fair then all those men under his command would be still alive. If life was fair Hitler would have never come to power, Pearl Harbor would never have bombed, and he would never have had to kill his fellow man in order to survive. To survive… That seemed as if it was all his life was about now—survival. To what end? He wanted to live, not just survive. He wanted his life to mean something…but it couldn’t. Not anymore. In war there was nothing in particular that was special about John McCreary, and if he fell then he would just be yet another casualty in the quest to liberate Europe and save democracy.


“Ich kann mir nicht vorstellen, wie das möglich ist.” he responded to her statement that she had never gotten too many compliments. He smiled at her comment and ran a hand through his hair. “I. .. Ich weiß, was ich sage, Liesl.” This wasn’t a joke for him…he didn’t know what it was, but he did feel something for her, and it wasn’t simply because she had saved his life. “Du bist einer der extraodinary Menschen, die ich hatte das Vergnügen, Treffen haben. Und du bist die schönste Frau, die ich je gesehen habe.” He almost winced at how impossibly cliché he sounded—he was a writer, which made it doubly shameful— but he was being truthful. His eyes showed it.

He listened attentively as she spoke of her own home in Austria and smiled, seeing how happy she looked as she spoke of it. “It sounds a little like Georgia…where I trained before I was shipped over here. We would do parachute drops over the countryside, and as I floated down I would marvel at all the fields—it was certainly a bird’s eye view.” He understood how the Air Corps pilots must have felt as they flew. “That sounds wonderful.” he answered with a grin. “I think I would like to learn how to fly—become a civilian pilot perhaps and own a hobby plane…the world looks so different from up in the air. You feel so distant…isolated…but there’s a strange, almost ethereal beauty to it. For a moment in time man becomes God… I’d like to experience that again, preferably without shells flying.” As he spoke of Georgia, his eyes had sparkled, remembering the bonds he had forged with the men in his original company. They had trained together and experienced combat for the first time together. A large percentage of his original unit had been killed in France, and even more of the group that had trained with him at Benning had died in Holland. He didn’t want to know just how many were left now. “Have you ever been in an airplane?” he asked suddenly, trying to brush away the thought.

“Thank you.” He just hoped that he would make it out of this thing alive and in one piece—that was what his dream depended on. That was all he could really hope for—survival. Living a decent life in peacetime would simply be an added bonus. “Ich habe ein wenig reisen vor dem Krieg - ich ging nach Paris, als Abschluss Geschenk. Ich hoffe, Sie bekommen die Welt zu sehen und öffnen Sie Ihre Klinik. Ich habe das Gefühl, wirst du sehr erfolgreich bist.”

His eyes met hers when she touched his hand and told him not to apologize for his actions, saying that she would have done the same thing. “It’s horrible…” he chuckled dryly and shook his head. “Horrible what this mess does to a person.” He slept with his rifle next to him because that was how he was trained—and he still kept a pistol next to his pillow even on leave. He was afraid that anxiety would carry over into his civilian life. She soon let go of his hand, which disappointed him a little, but he nodded at her question. “Very…”

At the question voiced in German he smiled. “Ich tun, nur nicht so viel wie die durchschnittliche Person. Ich wurde ausgebildet, um zu überleben auf so wenig Ressourcen wie ich nur konnte. In der Grundlagenforschung machten sie uns, ohne zu trinken aus unseren Kantinen laufen. Ich es gewohnt bin, mach dir keine Sorgen.” he assured her gently. He grinned again at her suggestion. “Just don’t forget about our date—in New York City.” he replied sternly but teasingly, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Keep them. And when we see each other again you can give them back.” he said, nodding in agreement as he stood, slinging his rifle over his shoulder and reaching down to help her up. He paused for a moment and then added, “I’ll write to you. Every day…I mean, obviously I suppose I can’t send anything.” he stated with a dry chuckle, “But I will write to you, and when we meet again I will give you the letters.”

Translations:

Es tut mir leid… -- I’m sorry…

Wenn das hier vorbei ist ... vielleicht Dinge anders sein wird. – When this is over…perhaps things will be different.

Du bist einer der extraodinary Menschen, die ich hatte das Vergnügen, Treffen haben. Du bist die schönste Frau, die ich je gesehen habe – You're one of the most extraordinary people I've had the pleasure of meeting. And you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.

Ich habe ein wenig reisen vor dem Krieg - ich ging nach Paris, als Abschluss Geschenk. Ich hoffe, Sie bekommen die Welt zu sehen und öffnen Sie Ihre Klinik. Ich habe das Gefühl, wirst du sehr erfolgreich bist. – I did a little traveling before the war--I went to Paris as a graduation gift. I do hope you get to see the world and open your clinic. I have a feeling you're going to be very successful.

Ich tun, nur nicht so viel wie die durchschnittliche Person. Ich wurde ausgebildet, um zu überleben auf so wenig Ressourcen wie ich nur konnte. In der Grundlagenforschung machten sie uns, ohne zu trinken aus unseren Kantinen laufen. Ich es gewohnt bin, mach dir keine Sorgen. – I do, just not as much as the average person. I was trained to survive on as little resources as I possibly could. In basic they made us run without drinking from our canteens. I'm used to it, don't worry.

[Liesl Von Stauffenberg]

Liesl a bitter sweet smile crossed Liesl’s lips as John spoke, ” Keine Notwendigkeit, sich zu entschuldigen…” she assured him, “ Sie wusste nicht, ... niemand weiß, unsere Seite der Geschichte. Die Menschen sehen nur uns als faschistische Schweine .. gedankenlos nach einem Führer, der das Böse auf den Kern ist.” she stated quietly. Liesl arched her eyebrow at him when he said that maybe things will be better after the war. She let out a sigh looking at John with a mournful gaze, “You don’t believe that…” her voice broke at the end,“Funny thing is…some of us want to show the world…that not all of us are not like him.” She shook her head slightly, “Es ist nur ein leerer Wunsch eines Kindes Ich nehme an ...” she uttered softly.

“Well, it’s possible.” She replied rather flatly in English, “ Denken Sie daran, woher ich gekommen ... blonde Haare und blaue Augen sind eine Sache der Schönheit und etwas zu beneiden und so rein kopiert werden.” she laughed slightly in a joking manner. She looked back into John’s eyes as he spoke. Liesl felt her cheeks heat up again, “ Das ist nur der Blutverlust zu sprechen ...” she said quietly, she took note on how John was reacting to what he told her, “You’re funny John…” she said trying to change the subject.

Liesl listened as John began to talk about Georgia. A look of confusion crossed Liesl’s face…at first she thought he was talking about the country of Georgia. She felt like facing palming herself when she realized he was speaking about the state of Georgia. She smiled nervously…praying he didn’t catch her confused expression. The smile on her face grew as he spoke about flying a plane and being up in the air. She envied him…she couldn’t help but laugh but laugh slightly when he spoke about shells flying at him. She couldn’t help but smile as he spoke about his experiences in boot camp and how it felt like being in the air. She could almost imagine it. “No…sadly I haven’t been on a plane….” She said after a few moments, “I would love to…if I ever got the chance.” She said quietly.

“ Sie sind sehr glücklich, reiste bevor dieser Krieg hat begonnen haben ... Ich bin wirklich neidisch auf Sie.” she mused lightly, “I do hope I’m successful….I want to keep helping people…after all that’s what I’m good at…” she joked, “You’re so optimistic…I wish I had that quality…” she murmured quietly.

She rubbed her hand a little feeling a little awkward that she was holding his hand a bit too long. She didn’t want to give him the wrong idea…not that she didn’t like him, she just didn’t want to form too much of an attachment to him. She had to keep reminding herself that he was an Allied soldier and not an Axis soldier. She had strong feelings towards him… whether it be positive or negative, she didn't know. She smiled awkwardly and decided to brush it off as nothing.

She smiled faintly at John, ” Nun, ich denke, wenn Sie dafür ausgebildet wurden ... Ich glaube, ich sollte nicht zu viele Sorgen. Es scheint, Amerika schickte einen ziemlich gut trainiert Soldaten in die Schlacht.” she teased lightly. She grinned back when he mentioned their date after the war, “I promise I won’t forget…you on the other hand might.” She mused as she took his hands and stood. She dusted the snow off her knees and the skirt of her nurse’s uniform. Her eyes darted up to John’s face when he spoke about writing to her. She flushed a shade of pink yet again, “I-…ummm…” she stammered, “I suppose I should do the same?” she said softly, “What will you write about?” she asked.

A small smile wavered on her lips as she looked up at John. Trying to remember how he looked…from the way he stood, his hair to his military fatigues.


Translations:

“Keine Notwendigkeit, sich zu entschuldigen” – No need to apologize

“ Sie wusste nicht, ... niemand weiß, unsere Seite der Geschichte. Die Menschen sehen nur uns als faschistische Schweine .. gedankenlos nach einem Führer, der das Böse auf den Kern ist.” - You didn't know...nobody knows our side of the story. People only see us as fascist pigs…mindlessly following a leader who is evil to the core.

“Es ist nur ein leerer Wunsch eines Kindes Ich nehme an ...” - It's just a empty wish of a child I suppose...

“ Denken Sie daran, woher ich gekommen ... blonde Haare und blaue Augen sind eine Sache der Schönheit und etwas zu beneiden und so rein kopiert werden.” - Remember where I come from...blonde hair and blue eyes are a thing of beauty and something to be envied and dubbed as pure.

“ Sie sind sehr glücklich, reiste bevor dieser Krieg hat begonnen haben ... Ich bin wirklich neidisch auf Sie.” - You're very lucky to have traveled before this war has started...I'm truly envious of you.

” Nun, ich denke, wenn Sie dafür ausgebildet wurden ... Ich glaube, ich sollte nicht zu viele Sorgen. Es scheint, Amerika schickte einen ziemlich gut trainiert Soldaten in die Schlacht.” - Well, I suppose if you were trained for this...I guess I shouldn't worry too much. It seems America sent a rather well trained soldier into battle.

[2nd Lt. John P. McCreary]

Even as she tried to reassure him, John felt guilty. That was—at least at one time—how he had viewed the German people as a whole. It was hard not to lump all of them into the same group. When you saw your friends—your brothers—killed by Krauts—no, Germans—it was hard not to. He didn’t hate anyone. He didn’t want to kill anyone, but he did as he had to in order to survive. He followed orders. But he was also human, and sometimes yes, he did want to avenge his fallen comrades.

The first time he had ever felt that way was incidentally before he had even been shipped overseas. He was in Jump School at Fort Benning when he received the letter from his father that Frank, his best friend since childhood, had been killed in action on Guadalcanal. At the time he didn’t even know where Guadalcanal was. To him it was a foreign strip of sand somewhere in the Pacific. It was Frank’s final resting place. More than anything he had wanted to kill Japs. He had just finished college at West Point, and was training to become a paratrooper in the U.S. Army, but he had been tempted to enlist in the Marines so that he would be deployed to the PTO. His father had read his mind and told him not to do just that. He said that—if he did it—he would be doing it for all the wrong reasons, and that Frank would have never wanted him to react to his death in that way. He wouldn’t have wanted him to drop his training on an angry whim.

Sometimes he still got angry. He was, after all, his best friend…but he had had no time to mourn. He never had time to mourn. He had to move on, for the sake of his men, for their cause. The war was so dehumanizing, and it trivialized human life. Deaths were regular occurrences, so there was no sense in stopping to lament. Not when they all had a job to do. When Liesl said that she didn’t believe that things would be better after the war, he shook his head. “I do.” Of course that was only if his side won. And he believed with all of his heart that they were fighting for a better world. “When this is over…I have to believe things will be better.” How else could he justify the carnage? He heard her voice crack toward the end of her statement, saying that some of the Germans wanted to show the world that they weren’t all like Hitler. He lay a hand over hers and gazed at her. “I know that now.”

He shook his head when she said that it was a foolish hope. “Nein, ist es nicht. Und Leute wie du gehst, um die, die nach Deutschland, nachdem diese wieder aufzubauen sein, ist vorbei - Menschen wie du gehst, um diejenigen sein, die Menschen zeigen, dass ..., dass er nicht definieren, wer Sie sind.” he replied softly but honestly, staring directly into her eyes as he spoke.

When she explained how it was possible for her not to have gotten many compliments due to the Aryan perception of beauty, he answered, “Nun, wo ich aus, wenn ein Mann eine schöne Frau sieht, kommt er scheut sich nicht, ihr zu sagen, das ist sie ist schön.” In English, he added, “It’s not the blood loss talking. I mean every word.” he insisted. Why was it so hard for her to believe that he did feel something toward her? He wasn’t crazy, he was telling the truth. “I’m not kidding.”

“The first time I ever flew in a plane was when I was in training.” John recounted with a smile. “It was such a short plane ride, too. I was sitting there with the rest of the boys getting ready to jump out of the perfectly good airplane in order to get my jump qualifications. But I would like to just fly in a plane in order to enjoy the ride, and not just get dropped somewhere.” At her comment that she was envious of him for being able to travel before the war, he replied, “Wer weiß, vielleicht lernen Sie einige Reisen nach dem Krieg zu tun. Und wird es besser dann.”

He smiled when she praised his optimism. “I try…it keeps the men’s spirits up if their commander tells them they’re going to make it out alive…” He had to be optimistic—even if he really wasn’t—for their sanity as well as his own. You should have seen me before the war… That was when he was truly optimistic, convinced that he would have a bright future. Now he wasn’t so sure if he would have a future at all. “You’re a good nurse…I’m sure you’ll open your clinic.”

A grin spread across his face when she stated that America had sent a well-trained soldier into battle. “Ja ... sie uns ziemlich hart trainiert. Ich erinnere mich an all die Auflagen gezwungen - mit Tornister, wohlgemerkt -, dass sie uns zu tun. Früher war es eine Qual sein, dann aber alle, dass die Schulung beginnt sich auszuzahlen.”

“I won’t forget.” he responded automatically. “I could never forget about you.” When she suggested that she write as well, his face brightened. “You will?” At her question, he answered, “My experiences…everything that’s going on around me—and my wishing I could see you again.”


Translations:
Nein, ist es nicht. Und Leute wie du gehst, um die, die nach Deutschland, nachdem diese wieder aufzubauen sein, ist vorbei - Menschen wie du gehst, um diejenigen sein, die Menschen zeigen, dass ..., dass er nicht definieren, wer Sie sind. – No, it's not. And people like you are going to be the ones to rebuild Germany after this is over--people like you are going to be the ones to show people that...that he doesn't define who you are.

Nun, wo ich aus, wenn ein Mann eine schöne Frau sieht, kommt er scheut sich nicht, ihr zu sagen, das ist sie ist schön. – Well, where I come from if a man sees a beautiful woman he isn't afraid to tell her that's she's beautiful.

Wer weiß, vielleicht lernen Sie einige Reisen nach dem Krieg zu tun. Und wird es besser dann. – Who knows, maybe you will get to do some traveling after the war. And things will be better then.

Ja ... sie uns ziemlich hart trainiert. Ich erinnere mich an all die Auflagen gezwungen - mit Tornister, wohlgemerkt -, dass sie uns zu tun. Früher war es eine Qual sein, dann aber alle, dass die Schulung beginnt sich auszuzahlen. – Yes...they trained us pretty hard. I remember all the forced runs--with field pack, mind you--that they made us do. It used to be a pain then but all that training is beginning to pay off.