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The Crossing - Part 24 free porn video
An escaped PoW who had taken on the identity of a dead woman, I was now
a bride. It was my wedding day, and a sniper had just attempted to kill
Adolf Hitler.
THE CROSSING - part 24
by BobH
(c) 2016
- 55 -
Standing on a wooden box someone had found for him, Hitler addressed the
wedding guests and onlookers milling outside the church, calm having
been restored with the announcement of the sniper's capture.
"This was the second cowardly attempt on my life in less than a month,"
he said. "Those behind it will be found, and they will be dealt with
harshly. In these difficult days enemies of the Reich, both internal and
external are emboldened. We must not give them succour by letting word
of this second attempt spread beyond the village. For the sake of the
Reich I am asking you, as loyal Germans, to mention it to no one.
However, the man who saved me from an assassin's bullet will not go
unrewarded or unremembered. I give you Reichskriminaldirektor Albrecht
Grost of the Gestapo."
He indicated Grost, whose wound had now been dressed by Gerda and whose
arm was in a sling. A cheer went up from the crowd, Grost visibly
swelling with pride. This was the first time I'd experienced Hitler's
oratorical skill, his ability to hold a crowd. I was impressed . He
managed to imbue even straightforward words such as these with real
power. It was easy to see how he could have swayed a nation and led it
to its current situation. An aide came up to him and whispered in his
ear whereupon he stepped off his box and came over to us.
"Markus Wagner is asking that Albrecht Grost and the Countess join him
at the castle to assist with his investigation into this assassination
attempt."
Helmut looked puzzled.
"Eva?" he said. "I don't understand how my wife could possibly help
him."
"Neither do I," said Hitler, "but he has my full backing in this matter
and the authority to ask whatever questions he deems necessary. You will
cooperate, of course, Countess?"
"Of course, Mein F?hrer," I said, feigning puzzlement.
"Good. Then I'll leave the matter in Wagner's more than capable hands
and await his report. I have to return to Rastenburg now. I hope the
rest of your wedding day passes without further incident."
Helmut's chauffeur Heinrich drove him, me and Grost back up to the
castle. They both looked worried and puzzled, as well they might. Of the
three of us I was the only one who knew what was going on, but that
didn't prevent me feeling apprehensive. I was still in my wedding dress
but now that the ceremony was over the long train was just an
encumbrance. Fortunately, it was detachable and by the time we reached
the castle I had freed myself from it. We were met at the door by an SS
man who ushered us up to my room, where Markus Wagner awaited. I glanced
across to Gerda's room. The door was open and the sniper rifle still in
position in front of the hole that had been cut in the glass of the
window.
"I apologise for tearing you away from your celebration," said Wagner,
"but when it concerns the safety of the F?hrer I have to act as I see
fit."
"Where's the sniper?" demanded Grost. "I hope you've given the bastard a
good kicking."
"He's in custody and currently behind bars down in the dungeon," said
Wagner. "At the moment, he remains unharmed. Whether or not he stays
that way will depend upon the results of my investigation."
"What is it you want from us?" I asked.
The covers on the far side of the bed had been thrown back. Wagner
beckoned me over and pointed to something on the floor. It was a pair of
black leather gloves.
"Have you seen these before?" he asked.
"No," I lied, "I haven't. Whose are they?"
"The sniper's. After his attempt on the life of the F?hrer he fled into
this room and threw them under the bed, presumably in a crude attempt to
conceal them."
"Why?" asked Helmut, frowning as he tried to make sense of this. "And if
he fired on the F?hrer from Gerda's room, why then flee into this one?"
"A good question," said Wagner. "Perhaps he hoped to somehow conceal
himself. Are you aware of anywhere in this room or your bathroom where a
man might hide, Countess?"
"No," I said, innocently, "I am not."
"I see. Assuming such a place of concealment does exist, and looking at
your quarters with that in mind, the only possibility lies with the
stone wall into which your closet has been sunk. It's thick enough that
a narrow recess could have been scooped out. If so, this could only be
accessed via the side panel of the closet, which would have to be some
sort of door. Would you mind if I tested this theory?"
"Not at all," I replied. "Please go ahead, Herr Sturmbannfuhrer."
He studied my face intensely for a moment, then pulled out a long, thin-
bladed knife. Sliding my clothes down one end of the rail, he ran the
knife carefully up the rear corner of the closet. When the knife reached
head height, just short of the hat shelf, it dropped into the almost
invisible recess that lay there, sinking in maybe a half an inch. When
he moved it we heard the unmistakeable sound of metal scraping on stone.
Wagner withdrew the blade.
"If there was a latch that's where I'd have expected to find it," he
said, "but all that's on the other side of that gap is stone. It appears
this panel isn't a door after all. However, as we all know, appearances
can be deceiving."
He leaned his full weight against the panel. When this achieved nothing,
he shoulder-charged it. Again, to no effect.
"Hmmm, solid," he said, stepping out of the closet and brushing himself
down. He now turned his attention to Grost.
"You are to be commended for saving the F?hrer's life," he said, "but
how did you know the sniper was there?"
"It was dumb luck," said Grost. "I happened to glance up at the castle
just as a stray beam of sunlight reflected off his scope. I realised
instantly what it must be, then instinct took over, a desire to protect
the F?hrer at all costs."
"I see. So it wasn't a case of you colluding with the sniper then
getting cold feet at the last second?"
"What?! How dare you!" roared Grost. "How can you even suggest such a
thing? My men and I are all loyal members of the Nazi party. In fact
when you decide its time to interrogate the sniper I hope you'll let
Bruno Gruber lead the questioning. He's a skilled interrogator."
"I'm sure he is, but that might be a little difficult."
"Why?"
"If you'll follow me, I'll show you."
He led us across to Gerda's room and nodded at the rifle, which I could
now see had been dusted with fingerprint powder.
"Because the sniper wore gloves there are no fingerprints on the rifle,
of course, but look at this."
He pointed to the floor near where the sniper would have fired from.
There were a couple of cigarette butts lying there and some ash. There
was no mistaking the smell of Turkish tobacco.
"Bruno Gruber can't run the interrogation of the sniper," said Wagner,
"because Bruno Gruber *is* the sniper."
"That...that can't be!" said Grost, looking stunned. "Why would Bruno
try to kill the F?hrer?"
"At the moment we're assuming he's part of the von Stauffenberg
conspiracy, but it's possible he was acting alone. We'll know more when
we interrogate him. Given he was only patrolling the upper floors as a
concession to you, Herr Grost, you'll understand why I had to ask you
what if anything you knew about Gruber's intentions."
"Are you sure it was him?" demanded Grost. "A couple of cigarette butts
prove nothing."
"By themselves, no. When we heard the shot my men and I ran upstairs.
The doors to both of these rooms were open and Gruber was standing in
this one. He was already upstairs, of course, and claims to have seen
the real sniper running from your cousin Gerda's room into this one. He
also claims that when he got to it the room was empty."
"So that's why you asked about places of concealment," said Helmut.
"I would not be doing my job if I failed to investigate every
possibility, however unlikely."
"Did Bruno recognize the sniper?" asked Grost.
"He claims it was the handyman, Johann Schmidt."
"Then that's who it was," declared Grost. "Gruber wouldn't lie."
"According to reports filed by your own subordinate, Johann Schmidt
bought a ticket for Berlin and was seen boarding the afternoon train the
day before my men and I arrived in the village. He was carrying several
suitcases and had told the innkeeper when checking out of his room at
the inn that he was leaving Rumstahl for good. If he was looking to try
and pin this on someone else, Gruber chose badly. "
"Do we know it was really Schmidt who boarded the train?"
"Being new to the village and so not knowing everyone, your man included
a brief description: tall, rugged features, large moustache. Is that
him?"
"I've never actually met the man," admitted Grost.
"I have, and that certainly sounds like him," said Helmut.
"B..but, Bruno!" said Grost. "He couldn't have done this, he just
couldn't have!"
"The keys to both rooms are still hanging on hooks just inside their
respective doors," said Wagner, "and he was carrying the only other keys
that would open them. Not only could he have done this, but it's
difficult to see how it could have been done by anyone else."
- 56 -
There was something almost medieval about the way the tables were laid
along the walls for our wedding feast in the Great Hall. This left the
centre as a dance floor, the musicians installed in one corner of the
room ready to strike up a tune whenever we indicted we were ready. That
would come later. For now we were finishing our excellent meal and the
servants were starting to take plates away. The roast wild boar was
delicious and had gone done well with all our guests. I would liked to
have ate more of it myself, but my corset limited me to the tiny amount
I'd managed to consume. Looking down from the top table at people
drinking and conversing, it wasn't difficult to guess what most would be
talking about. There can't be many weddings that include an
assassination attempt on a world leader, after all. Someone who wasn't
talking was Albrecht Grost. He had barely touched his food and had
instead got stuck into the wine. Having already worked his way through
two bottles he was now starting in on his third. Lexi was seated next to
him, of course. Catching my eye, she gave a helpless little shrug. Grost
was a large man, but there's a limit to the amount of alcohol anyone can
throw back. He was trying to drown his sorrows, his pride at saving his
F?hrer tempered by the fact that all the evidence pointed to his oldest
friend being the man who had fired the shot, just as it was supposed to.
Three days ago, after taking care to be seen boarding the afternoon
train, Johann Schmidt aka Mark Benton had exited that train through the
door on the opposite side of his compartment, clambered back under the
carriage, and hidden beneath the platform until nightfall. It was
cramped - German railway platforms are much lower than those in the UK -
but just about doable thanks to a dip in the soil at the point where he
hid. When Benton eventually emerged he tossed his nearly-empty suitcases
into the river. He watched for a few seconds as the current carried them
away into the darkness, after which he made his way through the village
as stealthily as possible. He entered the castle via the door I'd left
open for him, then concealed himself in the secret passage in my room.
Back in March, Benton had taken measurements in the that passage and
constructed a timber cross-bar and brace arrangement, the brace being
made from several smaller sections that bolted together. I had carried
these back to the castle over several days, hiding them in the passage
itself. We knew he'd have to conceal himself in there again after he
took his shot at Hitler, and had to assume the SS would tear the castle
apart looking for him. So we planned for this. When he returned to the
passage Benton would lift the latch lever and wire it in the up
position. With the latch in this position the door could be easily
pushed open, hence the cross-bar and brace to prevent that happening.
The former had a stone strip set into it at one end so that anyone
sliding a knife into the latch slot would think there was only stone
behind the closet side-panel. The brace was wedged between this and a
piece of wood that had been carefully driven between the flagstones that
made up the floor of the passage. Anyone attempting to push the panel
inwards while the brace was in place would be unable to do so, as Markus
Wagner had discovered. Fate had then dropped the perfect patsy in our
laps when Gruber was given the task of patrolling the upper floors. It
was me who had retrieved an ashtray containing several of his cigarette
butts in order to further sell our stitch-up of Gruber, of course. The
whole point of a patsy is that once he's been apprehended the search is
called off and the real culprit is then safe. Which is what had
happened. I wouldn't wish torture on anyone, but if someone had to be
the first to suffer that fate in the interrogation room Gruber had set
up, there was a certain grim satisfaction in it being him.
Beside me Helmut got to his feet and tapped his knife against the side
of his wine glass. Conversation died, and all eyes turned to him.
"As many of you know," he said, "when I first met Eva I was still in
mourning. In the pain of my bereavement it didn't seem possible to me
that I could find love again, and certainly not any time soon. Then Eva
came into my life, this bright, pretty girl, so full of joy and energy.
She soon captured my heart and I knew that I wanted to make her my wife,
to have her at my side as my Countess. Today I've done just that, and
she's made me the happiest man on the planet. So I'd like to propose a
toast to my beautiful bride Eva, who has never looked lovelier than she
does today. To Eva!"
He raised his glass and so did everyone else.
"To Eva!" they chorused, and I felt myself blush.
Helmut nodded to the musicians, who took up their instruments and
started playing the Blue Danube.
"As is traditional, first dance goes to the bride and groom."
He offered me his hand and led me out to the middle of the dance floor
where I placed a hand on his shoulder, he slid one around my waist, and
he took my other hand in his before launching into the waltz. As he
whirled me around the floor I silently gave thanks to Gerda's lover Hans
Strohmann for the dance lessons he had given me. If he hadn't, I don't
think I could have stayed on my feet in the heels I was wearing. The
dance was as exhilarating as always, and I was soon grinning like a
fool. When it ended there was a smattering of applause followed by most
of the other couples taking to the floor to get in position for the
second waltz. Albrecht Grost lurched to his feet, teetered about for a
second or two, then crashed backwards, blind drunk and out on his feet.
I winced. That fall could have reopened his wound. Gerda obviously had
the same thought, because she rushed to his side. After a quick
examination she nodded, whereupon several burly servants swooped in to
attend to him. Lexi directed them to carry him to their room, then
turned to face us and gave another apologetic shrug.
"Cousin Albrecht bringing the same class to social situations as he
always does," snorted Helmut.
"I have a bit more sympathy for him this time," I said. "Markus Wagner
is doing God only knows what to his best friend down in the cellar,
after all."
"Yes, there is that," Helmut admitted, then the music started again and
we were off on our second waltz.
I sat out the third - those heels were hell on my feet - so Helmut took
to the floor with Gerda. In the absence of Grost, Lexi was dancing with
Wernher von Braun, while Hanna Reitsch had found a relative of Helmut's
to waltz with who was short enough that the height difference between
the two didn't appear absurd. One couple who weren't dancing were Leni
Riefenstahl and her new husband, Major Peter Jacob. Like most of the
male guests currently serving in various branches of the military he was
wearing his dress uniform. I understood why Leni didn't feel like
dancing. Before we came in for the feast there had been a photo-session
with Leni in which she had taken all manner of pictures involving
groupings of Helmut and/or me and/or various of Helmut's relatives.
During the shoot I took Peter aside and asked why Leni seemed so sad and
why she had scowled at Hitler.
"She was determined to be here, and working like this does help take her
mind off things," he said, staring wistfully at his wife, "but the fact
is she's in mourning. First her father died last month, then a few weeks
later her brother Heinz, whom she loved very dearly, was killed by a
grenade during a battle in Russia."
"I hadn't heard," I said. "Poor Leni. How awful for her!"
"She blames Hitler for the whole misbegotten war in the east and for
Heinz's death. She used to be one of his boosters, now she no longer has
a good word for the man. And I can't say I blame her."
"Really?" I said. There was real antipathy in his voice, something that
surprised me in a serving Wehrmacht officer.
"I've only recently finished a tour of duty on the eastern front," he
continued, "where I saw things no one should have to see. We've lost
millions of men, most of a generation of German manhood sacrificed on
the altar of one man's ambition."
He shook his head, frowned, then gave me a worried look as he realised
how unguarded his outburst had been.
"Forgive me, Countess. I should not have spoken thus."
"No need to apologise," I replied, laying a hand on his arm, "you've
said nothing I'm going to repeat to anyone."
The SS might be fanatically loyal to Hitler but this was clearly not the
case with the Wehrmacht. I wondered how widespread such sentiments might
be.
A little later I had grabbed a moment with Helmut and we used it to
finally open the envelope Hitler had given him at the church. The headed
paper inside identified this as coming from the office of the F?hrer,
and it read:
"By Order of the F?hrer,
Anyone to whom this letter is presented is hereby instructed to provide
whatever physical and/or material aid is requested of them by Count and
Countess von Rumstahl, or by Dr Gerda von Rumstahl, to the full extent
of their ability to provide that aid. Failure to do so shall be
considered a criminal act and will be punished accordingly.
Adolf Hitler."
It was a hell of a letter to have, and could prove very useful indeed if
- no, when - things started to go to hell. I'd thought about that letter
a lot while we were eating, and about why Hitler had given it to us. I
was thinking about it now as I watched Helmut sweep Gerda around the
dance floor.
When the third dance ended, Wernher brought Lexi back to our table while
Helmut continued to dance with his sister, giving us a chance to chat.
"How's Albrecht?" I asked.
"Sleeping it off," she said. "Gruber being the sniper has rocked him to
the core. Why do you think he did it? Did he ever express any ill
feeling towards Hitler?"
"None that I know of," I replied, "but he must have had his reasons."
"I suppose. Shame he missed, really. Hitler dying could have shortened
this war by months. So how does it feel to be married, and a Countess to
boot?"
"It hasn't sunk in yet, so it doesn't seem quite real."
"Well you'd better get used to it, Countess, because it is real. In
practical terms you're now no longer Helmut's 'kept woman' but the lady
of the manor, and that position is going to bring certain
responsibilities with it. I have to say I envy you, though. Not only did
you get to walk down the aisle in the big, white dress but your husband
is rich and handsome, too. And anyone with eyes can see he's totally
smitten with you. I hope I'm lucky enough to find that kind of love one
day."
The feast and the partying had started mid-afternoon. By mid evening the
first guests, those with the furthest to travel, had begun to leave. The
celebrations would undoubtedly continue into the night, but it was time
Helmut and I also departed and made our way upstairs. It was our wedding
night, after all.
At the door to my room, Helmut picked me up and smiled down at me.
"Ready?" he said.
"Oh, yes," I replied.
Grinning he carried me across the threshold, a man transporting his
bride into their new life as a married couple in a rite of passage
countless new husbands before him had performed. I'd never seen him look
happier.
It genuinely pained me that soon, if everything went to plan, I was
going to break his heart.
*********************************
To be continued.
*********************************
Note: Those of you who might have wondered what the components were that
Eva carried back to the castle in part 16 now have your answer
Bess
- 10.12.2020
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