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The Crossing - Part 18 free porn video
An escaped PoW living as a woman, I had settled into my role as the
fiancee of Count Helmut von Rumstahl. But this was Nazi Germany, and in
the space of little more than 24 hours my world was turned upside down.
THE CROSSING - part 18
by BobH
(c) 2016
- 41 -
"Wooden peas?" I said, chuckling as I picked up one of them from the
floor.
"Yes," said Helmut, helping me gather them up, "wooden peas."
"How the other half lives!" I said. "When I was a child I was the best
shot on my street with a pea-shooter, but we used actual dried peas and
none of us had a shooter that was hand-carved."
Heck few of us even had pea-shooters that had been *bought*. You might
buy a few pennorth of knicker elastic from Woolworths to turn a Y-shaped
piece of wood into a hand catapult because elastic ripped from old
underwear was too knackered to be of any use, but pea-shooters would be
cut from hollow reeds or, better still, scavenged bamboo of the right
diameter.
We were in Helmut's bedroom, me having just risen and he having returned
from his early morning session in the castle's gym. While dressing, he'd
asked me if I could get something down from the shelf in his wardrobe. In
doing so I'd accidentally dislodged a box containing the pea-shooter and
its 'peas'.
"Why isn't this stowed away in one of the tower storerooms with the other
toys from your childhood?" I asked.
"Because unlike those, father made this for me himself," he said gazing
down wistfully at the pea-shooter in his hand.
I placed my hand over his.
"I understand," I said. "It must have been hard on you and Gerda losing
him when you were so young."
He said nothing, simply nodding.
After the 'peas' had all been gathered up and the pea-shooter put away, I
left Helmut to get dressed and headed back to my room, where my own
clothes resided.
After a leisurely shower, I sat at my dressing table in my underwear and
did my make-up. Applying the top of the range cosmetics with the skill
that only practice can bring I found myself thinking back to the first
time I ever painted my face. That was in Stalag Luft XII and the make-up
itself had been anything but high-end. Ingeniously manufactured using a
set of water colour paints crushed and mixed with expired gel of some
description from a medical kit, it was rudimentary stuff but it did the
job. Alec Delon, the other PoW who played female roles in our little
theatrical troupe, had shown me how to apply it. I'd hated painting my
face then; now it was something I enjoyed. But then my time at Castle
Rumstahl had changed me in more ways than just that, ways that would have
once seemed inconceivable. What would the me of back then make of the me
of today, I wonder? It wasn't a question I spent long pondering since my
thoughts were occupied by other things, most notably the V-1.
While Allied advances in the west and German defeats in the east were
downplayed on the radio as much as possible, the 'triumphs' of the V-1
campaign were loudly trumpeted, and I followed the reports with some
trepidation. On the 15th of June, 250 V-1's were apparently launched at
London, a number that had reached 500 by the 18th. That number had
climbed to 2,000 by the end of the month. I could only imagine the number
of deaths and injuries they were causing. It was now the 18th of July,
with no end in sight. I didn't hold the part Helmut had played in the
development of the V-1 against him since it wasn't personal. He was doing
his duty to his country, just as I was doing my duty to mine by spying on
him. I'm sure I could have done a better job if I had actually been
trained as a spy and taught the necessary tradecraft, but overall I
didn't think I was making too bad a fist of it.
Removing the dress I intended wearing, I glanced at the closet side panel
that was the door to what appeared to be the castle's only secret
passage. Over the past few weeks I'd smuggled in all the components that
Benton wanted me to, and also something else. As preparation for his
original mission, the one aborted when the aircraft carrying him had been
shot down, a sniper rifle had been dropped nearby by parachute some days
beforehand and retrieved by Captain Wendt. Actually it was more an
assassin's rifle than a sniper's, breaking down into several smaller
sections that could be easily concealed in a briefcase. Wendt had held
onto the rifle and I had recently carried each of those sections in turn
back to the castle. They, along with the aforementioned components, were
now stowed away in the secret passage. If von Stauffenberg and his fellow
conspirators failed to kill Hitler, then Benton would be using the rifle
to take his shot next month on my wedding day.
I was late getting down to the dining room, where Helmut and Gerda were
already seated and had started breakfast without me. In fact Gerda, who
was smiling and seemed very happy about something, had almost finished
hers. I helped myself to the food laid out on the side table, the variety
and quantity of which was much reduced from what it was when I arrived at
Castle Rumstahl eleven months ago. I took my seat next to Helmut, who
squeezed my hand and smiled at me. The radio had been wheeled in from the
family room as it now was every morning so that we could listen to the
news, though it was currently playing music by Wagner.
"You just missed the news," said Gerda, who had noticed me glance at the
radio while getting to her feet to leave, "as usual these days none of it
is good."
"Then why do you look so happy?" I asked.
"A letter arrived from Hans this morning," said Helmut.
"How wonderful!" I said, genuinely pleased for Gerda who, not too
surprisingly under the circumstances, hadn't heard from him since the
Allied landings in Normandy.
"Most of his squad were killed, but he managed to get away and is now in
Paris awaiting new orders. At least he was when he wrote the letter last
week. Right, I must go. I'll see you both tonight."
When Gerda left I turned to Helmut.
"What are we being told about the situation in France?"
"Not much, but with Cherbourg falling to them last month then Caen
earlier this month, the Allied advance seems unstoppable. Paris may be
safe for now, but they're bound to take it soon. One piece of news from
France is very troubling for us, however. The lead item in the broadcast
was about Field Marshall Rommel. His car got strafed by a Spitfire
yesterday and he was badly injured. He's now in a coma."
"Oh no. Claus was relying on him to boost the credibility of their coup.
Do you think they managed to recruit him?"
"Impossible to say," he replied, "though Claus seemed very confident they
could. More important is the question of the coup itself. When are they
going to make their attempt on Hitler's life, I wonder?"
We got our answer two days later.
- 42 -
We dressed for dinner on the evening of Thursday 20th July 1944 just as
we always did. I wore my favourite red dress, with matching three inch
heels and tastefully understated jewellery. And, yes, I did just describe
that red dress as my favourite. I might still want to wear trousers -
although it was almost a year since I last had - but where choices are
involved preferences arise. That's just human nature.
It was just Gerda and me at dinner. I wasn't surprised by Helmut's
absence. Peenem?nde had been bombed again on the 18th, this time by the
Americans. Helmut had spent most of yesterday and today trying to
discover the extent of the damage and what it would mean to the V-2
development programme. Inevitably, most of the phone lines were down.
Helmut was trying to piece things together from the information he could
glean from those who had managed to briefly get through to Peenem?nde.
When he eventually joined Gerda and me in the family room, long after we
had finished dinner, he slumped down in an armchair, looking beat. Gerda
poured him a glass of wine, which he accepted gratefully.
"What's the news from Peenem?nde?" I asked. "Do you have a full report,
yet."
"I think so, yes. It was bombed by American B-17 Flying Fortresses with a
fighter escort of Lightnings and Mustangs. We had a V-2 test launch
planned that day but it had to be scrapped because the test stand it was
to be fired from was too badly damaged. We also lost the production
calibration firing stand near Werke S?d, and 50 people were killed, both
technicians and anti-aircraft soldiers."
"What does the attack mean for the V-2 programme?" I asked, hoping the
blow the Yanks had struck was a serious one.
"It's an inconvenience, but not a major one," said Helmut, "we'll be up
and running again in no time. If the Allies want to seriously damage the
programme it's not the testing areas or the launch sites they should be
bombing but the manufacturing facilities, and those are impervious to
attack since they're located deep inside a mountain. But enough about the
raid on Peenem?nde; what's been happening elsewhere?"
"We haven't listened to the radio since breakfast," said Gerda. "I'll
turn it on."
As usual it took a while for the valves to warm up, but when they did we
caught the end of a news broadcast.
"...repeat, our beloved Fuehrer is alive and well, despite reports to the
contrary in the hour or so after an explosion ripped through the
conference room at his Wolf's Lair field headquarters near Rastenburg in
East Prussia early this afternoon. This is what he had to say in the
broadcast he made as soon as he was able to get to a radio...."
Hitler's unmistakeable voice followed.
"A very small clique of ambitious, unscrupulous, and at the same time
criminally stupid officers hatched a plot in order to eliminate me as
well as exterminate the staff of the General Wehrmacht leadership. The
bomb was placed by Colonel Claus von Stauffenberg..."
Not knowing about the conspiracy Gerda gasped on hearing his name, her
hand going to her mouth.
"I am not injured, with the exception of a few very small bruises and
burns. I regard this as confirmation of my mission by Providence to
continue pursuing the goal of my life, as I have done up to now."
The recording cut off there and the news announcer resumed his report.
"Colonel von Stauffenberg fled the Wolf's Lair and is currently holed up
in the Bendlerblock, the headquarters of General Friedrich Fromm. Fromm
is believed to have been taken prisoner by von Stauffenberg and his
fellow conspirators. Throughout the Reich, forces loyal to the Fuehrer
are battling traitorous elements in the military who, believing the
Fuehrer dead, attempted to launch a coup. They have not succeeded and are
being swiftly neutralized."
With that the broadcast ended. We stared at each other, stunned by what
we'd all just heard.
"Claus...." began Gerda.
"Yes, Claus," said Helmut. "It's clear this coup has failed. The
retribution that's coming now will make 'the night of the long knives'
look like a tea party in comparison. We know Claus. Questions are going
to be asked."
"But we haven't seen him in almost a year!" said Gerda.
"No, we haven't, but I think it would still be very prudent for us to
adopt protective colouring."
"What do you mean, Helmut?" I asked, frowning.
"I mean that we have to make a public show of support for Hitler."
The following morning, soon after it opened for the day, Gerda, Helmut
and I turned up together at the village post office, much to the surprise
of Frau Engelmann the postmistress. When we told her why we were there
she could barely conceal her delight. We signed all the relevant papers,
swore the appropriate oaths, and then she snapped to attention and gave
the Nazi salute.
"Heil Hitler!" she shouted.
"Heil Hitler!" we shouted in response, our arms raised in the same
salute.
Which is how I, Flying Officer Paul Edwin Ripley of the RAF, loyal
subject of the King of England, became a member of the Nazi party.
- 43 -
The first inkling we got that things had changed was when a staff car
driven by a young Gestapo officer pulled into the castle courtyard early
that same afternoon. In the rear were Albrecht Grost and Bruno Gruber.
Helmut and I went out to greet them. Gruber immediately fixed his
repulsive gaze on me, leering lasciviously.
"Hello, Albrecht," said Helmut, smoothly, "to what do I owe the pleasure
of this visit?"
"It isn't a visit," replied Grost, handing him an envelope.
Frowning, Helmut opened it and read its contents while I silently
squirmed under Gruber's gaze.
"This can't be right!" Helmut protested. "It says you're to be billeted
in the castle for the foreseeable future!"
"Not only me but Bruno, my driver Horst, and my new mistress, too,"
replied Grost. "Also, four of my men are knocking on the doors of houses
in the village that have been selected as billets for them with similar
orders. Between us we'll get this place sorted out."
He smiled. It was not a pleasant smile.
"You're probably wondering if you can do anything about the situation,"
he continued. "Don't bother trying, you'll only be wasting your time.
You'll notice who signed the order?"
"Heinrich Himmler," said Helmut, quietly.
"Exactly so. Heinrich Himmler, commander of the SS and one of Hitler's
closest confidantes. Due to your connections, Rumstahl has managed to
stay largely unaffected by the changes the Fatherland has undergone in
recent years. You even still have your local village policeman with his
comic opera uniform. No longer. The attempt on the Fuehrer's life means
that even Rumstahl now has to live in the real world. The Fuehrer will be
arriving next month for your wedding. I will be in charge of security
here until his personal SS guard arrive in the lead-up to that visit."
"In light of recent events I understand the need for increased security,
but...."
"No buts, Helmut," said Grost, interrupting him. "The traitor who planted
the bomb was your friend Claus von Stauffenberg. He paid the price for
his betrayal and was executed shortly after midnight."
"Claus...dead?" said Helmut, looking stunned.
"He was executed on the orders of General Friedrich Fromm along with his
fellow conspirators General Friedrich Olbricht, Oberleutnant Werner Karl
von Haeften, and Colonel Albrecht Mertz von Quirnheim."
"Fromm? Fromm ordered their deaths?"
Helmut's eyes narrowed. We both knew Fromm had been a part of the
conspiracy. When it was obvious the coup had failed he must have decided
to execute those who could identify him as a fellow conspirator in an
attempt to save his own skin, the bastard!
"Yes, and he shouldn't have," said Grost. "Had they lived they could have
been interrogated and made to reveal the names of other conspirators.
When Otto Skorzeny arrived at Fromm's headquarters twenty minutes later
with a squad of SS men he forbade any further executions. Which brings us
to you, Helmut. Did you know what von Staffenberg was planning?"
"Of course I didn't. The last time I saw Claus was at our Autumn Ball
last year, and you spent more time talking to him then than I did,
Albrecht."
"Are you suggesting...?"
"I'm suggesting nothing," said Helmut, smoothly. "Merely pointing out
that of the two of us you've spent more time with him since he was
injured than I have."
"Yes, but that means nothing. He was a traitor, and I am a loyal member
of the Nazi party."
"As are Eva, Gerda, and I."
"You are? Since when?"
"Since yesterday. I had my reasons for not joining earlier, but in light
of the attempt on the Fuehrer's life I felt it was more important to make
a public show of support for him, as did Eva and Gerda."
"Hmmmph," said Grost, not looking entirely convinced. "We'll doubtless
discuss this further in the coming days. In the meantime, have your staff
take our bags up to our rooms. My driver Horst will take one with the
servants, while Bruno and I will require one each with you. I'll be
sharing mine with my mistress, so I'll need the larger of the two."
"Where is your mistress?" I asked.
"Travelling separately. There wasn't room in my staff car for her and all
the clothes I've bought her. She'll be arriving on the next train. Have
your chauffeur meet her at the station, Helmut."
It was an order, not a request.
"Will there be anything else?" Helmut asked, icily.
His hands were at his sides, tightly clenched. I could see it was taking
all his will power not to explode in rage at his cousin.
"Yes, there will. I'll need an office to work from with good phone
connections, so I'm requisitioning yours."
"What? But you can't!" said Helmut, aghast.
"Oh, but I can. Himmler's order gives me complete authority to do as I
see fit, and given the current situation you making a phone call to the
Fuehrer to complain would not change that, even assuming you could reach
him. I know all about your important work, but that's over for now.
Nothing takes precedence over the Fuehrer's safety."
I touched Helmut's arm.
"If you don't mind, I'm going to my room."
He gave me a distracted look.
"What? No, of course not. I'll stay here and see to our 'guests'."
In my room I sat down heavily on my bed and let out a deep sigh.
"Damn!" I shouted.
My life had just become a whole lot more complicated and a whole lot more
dangerous. More eyes watching me meant more chance of being caught doing
things Eva Schumacher shouldn't be doing. Then there was Bruno Gruber.
The man was a convicted rapist. From the way he looked at me I had no
doubt what he'd like to do with me if ever he got the chance. I had no
idea whether or not he would try anything while we were both living in
the castle, but I would give him as few opportunities as I could. Which,
since he would be moving into one of the guest rooms on this floor, might
be easier said than done.
I was in still in my room several hours later when I heard the
Duesenberg pulling into the courtyard. It was Heinrich, returning from
the train station with Grost's new mistress. Curious, I went to the
window and gazed down at the car. The roof wasn't up so I was able to see
that the woman sitting in the rear was just as shapely as her predecessor
Giselle had been, her low-cut dress hugging every curve of her lovely
body. She was smoking a cigarette in a six inch long ivory holder and
wearing a wide-brimmed hat to shade her from the sun. Unfortunately, it
also concealed her face from this angle. A quick glance upwards revealed
that she was wearing sunglasses, but it was too brief for me to tell
whether or not she was pretty. Heinrich leapt out and got her door for
her, various servants rushing forward to take her luggage as she
languidly climbed out of the car.
So this was Grost's new mistress. I was impressed. He had the same taste
in women I did, something I'd known since first laying eyes on Giselle,
which could be a problem. Having her staying at the castle was going to
test my self control. I daren't be caught staring at her with obvious
longing or questions might be asked, not least by Helmut. Still, that was
something to worry about later. For now, I should rejoin the others
downstairs and introduce myself.
The door to the family room was open and she was standing with her back
to me which meant that as I crossed the short distance from the foot of
the stairs I was able to admire those deliciously female curves and fully
appreciate her gorgeous arse. Oh yes, definitely my type!
"Ah, Eva," said Helmut, "glad you decided to join us. Eva, meet Lexi
Marceau, and Lexi meet Eva."
When Lexi turned to face me the first thing I saw was the magnificent
cleavage revealed by the plunging neckline of that almost sinfully tight-
fitting dress. I looked up, almost gasping at how stunning she was. I'd
never seen her face before, but there was something strangely familiar
about the smirk she gave on seeing my reaction to her beauty. Slowly, she
removed her sunglasses....
....and I found myself looking into the eyes of Alec Delon.
**********************
To be continued
**********************
Historical Notes:
I quoted from Hitler's actual radio address following the attempt on his
life. The full thing, with accompanying English text, can be found here
for those who are interested:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LpCwuCzud-E
Full details of the Generals' Plot can be found here:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/20_July_plot
and those of you who might wonder at that reference Helmut makes to 'the
night of the long knives' can find out what that was here:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Night_of_the_Long_Knives
Makenna
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