Home Farm
by Writer345 ©
* * *Chapter Nine: April 1945 — Das Institut.
The little convoy headed along the forest road with no further opposition, until the trees parted and they came to the guard post and then events became almost comic-opera. The lead jeep, the one containing the four military coppers, nosed cautiously round the sharp curve with Virginia Howard’s vehicle close behind. It was mid-afternoon and warm for April, with the sun streaming through the canopy of young leaves. The driver suddenly saw the wasp-striped sentry box that guarded a lifting barrier: he glanced across to his sergeant for guidance.
The sergeant motioned to them to carry on moving forward then stood up and raised his sten gun, bracing himself as best he could, mentally cursing all lieutenant-colonels, female or otherwise, as he did so. Behind him the other two military coppers were looking around uneasily: their stens also cocked and ready.
The box looked empty as the jeeps approached and the sergeant fervently prayed that the sentry had gone. Suddenly something moved and the sergeant motioned for the driver to stop.
The lad who stepped out in front of them had a terrified expression and looked about sixteen. He also seemed totally out of place in his ill-fitting SS uniform. He raised his arm gesturing them to halt, then realising that they were enemy troops and not Germans, he seemed about to speak but froze and stared wide-eyed at them.
The silence lasted only seconds but to Virginia it once more seemed like hours. Suddenly Lieutenant Weaver barked out in perfect German. “Hebe deine Hände hoch, junge. Es ist vorbei.”—Put your hands up, boy. It’s all over.
The sentry panicked and grabbed for the sub-machine-gun that was slung over his other shoulder before crumpling to the sound of a couple of shots.
“Fucking idiot!” Spat Weaver as she leapt out of the jeep and dived for cover, her automatic pistol still held ready. Her eyes seemed to be everywhere as she peered around the vehicle.
The military coppers did the same and without thinking formed an all around defence. Colonel Howard, however, did not see any of this as she had thrown herself into the foot well in front of the seat... Needless to say, the driver who was also technically a non-combatant, had done the same. The little tableaux remained frozen for a minute or so while the soldiers, alert for any possible movement, stared at the surroundings their eyes darting this way and that.
“Better let us handle things, Ma’am.” The sergeant said quietly as he gingerly straightened up before moving over to join the lieutenant who by now was kneeling and gazing at the gateway.. He glanced over at the sentry who had a pair of bullet holes quite close together in his his chest about where his heart was. Where the hell did she learn to shoot like that? He wondered.
Weaver grinned—her short blonde hair, pale skin and thin features making the sergeant think of a skull. “Yeh, carry on sergeant,” she said with cold amusement, “I’ll tag along behind with my boss.”
Lieutenant Colonel Howard was still trying to make herself as small as possible when Weaver reached her. There was after all plenty of evidence of an enemy presence in the vicinity, other than the dead SS man, that is... The crump-crump of distant artillery fire had been an ever present companion since before she had arrived in the area, that and the dull thud of more than the occasional small arms fire. While overhead military aircraft wove contrails in the bright blue spring sky. She had been told that the war was almost over but somehow, judging by the evidence, Virginia didn’t quite believe it. It was okay for Weaver and the Military Coppers—they’d been in action before, but as far as the colonel was concerned, well she has a scientist, and not a soldier, despite her uniform and rank badges.
“It’s okay Ma’am,” Weaver spoke quietly as she made an unsuccessful attempt to reassure her CO, “that gunfire is at least a mile away. I don’t think any of it’s coming our way.”
Somewhat relieved, Howard straightened up somewhat just as a stray round ‘cracked’ as it passed overhead. The lieutenant shrugged and dryly added. “Well most of it isn’t, anyway!”
Up ahead the military police had finished checking the guard house that was on the other side of the barrier, apparently the sentry had been left on his own—so much for German efficiency. Then, with the barrier raised the sergeant and his party climbed back into their jeep and headed on in, Lieutenant Weaver motioned for their driver to follow on behind before darting off to make her own check on the surroundings.
The jeeps rolled on at walking pace... Past the sentry box and barrier... Past a large sign stating that whatever was up ahead was part of the Lebensborn Projekt... Past the deserted guard house and on up the drive that was flanked by rows of carefully nurtured trees. Suddenly Weaver was back in the jeep.
“It is all clear, Ma’am: I just thought that I’d better make sure.” She said with wry a grin, although Howard couldn’t help but notice that she was now carrying the sentry’s sub-machine-gun and had a couple of German stick grenades tucked under her web belt. My God: I’m glad she’s on our side!
The journey along that tree-lined avenue was incongruous—was the war really still on, or had they slipped through some sort of portal that had taken them back to older, gentler times? Even the artillery seemed to have fallen silent, or maybe the wind had changed or were they somehow sheltered from the sound? Virginia Howard did not know instead she gazed around at the trees and the well manicured lawns that were visible beyond them. She shuddered. How is this place even possible when the whole of the Third Reich has been turned into a single hellish battlefield?
It wasn’t until the little convoy rounded the next bend that the Institut itself became visible as it seemed to slip out from behind a small rise. The main buildings had that ‘stately-home look about them and had probably once been someone’s country house or family seat. Everything, despite the war raging all around, looked perfectly maintained and spotlessly clean. There had been no attempt to camouflage things, in fact just the opposite as it looked to be some sort of hospital marked as it was by ‘red-cross’ flags that fluttered proudly in the gentle breeze. There were even a couple of ambulances parked outside, although whether or not they were there just for camouflage, Howard did not know.
The pair of jeeps rolled to a stop in front of the rather impressive front door and the military policemen jumped out and formed defence perimeter, needless to say, Weaver joined them, her head turning this way and that as she seemed to be trying to look in every direction at once.
“Seems quiet enough, Ma’am.” The sergeant observed.
Weaver shrugged but continued to look around.
“May be everyone’s gone but they forgot to tell the sentry.” One of the three police corporals added hopefully. He was a tall scot whose gaze kept straying in the general direction of Howard’s pretty female driver.
The sergeant shrugged and thought of the corny western films that he’d eagerly watched as a boy... The one’s were all of the settlers were standing around in happy little groups, blissfully unaware of the thousands of hostile Cheyenne warriors who were about to descend upon them... He chuckled.
“Sarg?” Enquired one of the other coppers.
“I was just thinking about how quiet it all is.” The sergeant shrugged again. “No matter. Just keep your eyes open, Dave, and we might get away with this.”
Suddenly he saw Weaver spin around and aim her sub-machine-gun at the grey-clad figure who was now standing in the doorway behind them.
“Hände hoch, Fräulein!” She barked, and only then did the sergeant realise that the grey figure was that of a woman. A DRK nurse, in fact.
Hesitantly the woman, well girl, really, raised her hands: whimpering as she did so... Like the sentry, she looked no more than about sixteen years old... Until you noticed her eyes, that is. They were the eyes of someone who had seen too much too soon,
“Bitte, bitte.” She pleaded, her face a mask of terror.
However she obeyed when Weaver barked out. “Kommen sie hier!” Come here.
Still trembling, the girl walked hesitantly towards the British soldiers and stopped in front of the female officer who demanded. “Was ist das für ein Ort?” What is this place?
Then as the Military Coppers spread out to checked the area, the young nurse answered. “Das Institut! Es ist ein Entbindungsheim.” The Institute! It’s a maternity hospital.
Weaver made a derogatory noise and waved her sub-machine-gun in the girl’s general direction. “Nein, ist es nicht.” No it isn’t. “Nicht mit einem bewaffneten Wachposten.” Not with an armed sentry.
The back and forth continued for a couple of minutes and ended when the Lieutenant patted the girl on the head and muttered “Vielen Dank.” Thank you.
She turned towards her Colonel. “Seems like we’ve found a place that does research into keeping premature babies alive, Ma’am. She was going on about breast milk, amongst other things. Is this the sort of thing you’re looking for?”
Howard smiled and stepped down out of the jeep. “Could be, Lieutenant. Can we take a look inside?”
“Depends what the MP’s find, best give them time to check that It’s clear.” Weaver answered and at that turned back to the young nurse. The conversation began hesitantly as far as the young prisoner was concerned: she didn’t exactly cooperate but her hesitancy was no match for the older woman’s determination. Weaver, for her part, sounded more sympathetic as she asked question after question. At first the nurse was very hesitant: no doubt fearing for her life... The enemy soldiers were brutes and she was bound to be raped or murdered or worse: at least this was what she had been told! But the longer the conversation lasted the more confident she became. The woman that she was facing was quite fierce but she was an officer and didn’t seem to be a monster. And besides: she was a woman after all and women do not rape other women do they?
So, it dawned on her, if she could keep on the British lieutenant’s good side then she would be safe... To this end, she talked and it wasn’t long before the lieutenant ordered her to sit in the front of the jeep so that the female sergeant who was behind the wheel could keep her eye on her. Weaver jumped in and sat in the back at the side of the older woman—a woman who was actually a lieutenant-colonel, no less!
“Seems like we’ve found something that you were looking for Ma’am!” Weaver said quietly. “She says it’s a DRK facility...”
“DRK?” Asked the driver who had been listening.
“Deutsches Rotes Kreuz—The German Red Cross.” Answered Weaver sounding slightly annoyed at the interruption. “It’s an integral part of the Third Reich so don’t confuse it with everybody else’s Red Cross organisation. This one’s well integrated into the rest of the nastiness so don’t be fooled by her red cross armband or badges!”
The driver just shrugged and went back to starring at the nurse in an interested manner as Weaver carried on relaying what the nurse had told her. “This place is run by a woman called Elsa Bergen: she’s some sort of doctor-come-scientist by the way and her main interest is in caring for premature babies or so the nurse claims!” She carried on for several minutes although Colonel Howard found it difficult to accept much that she was being told.
Just as she was finishing they watched the four military police NCO’s escort a small group of women out through the front door.