Comrades in arms. He looked around the office. Wiktor, ragged and almost green with fear, his nails black and the desktop scarred and unpolished. Some lint in the corner.
“I’m sorry for this office, Oberführer. It’s impossible to keep clean.”
“The world tells us that everything about our Reich is impossible, but the new German finds only possibility. Only possibility.”
The Oberführer looked at Wiktor and waved his hand. “Go get three women. Quickly.”
Wiktor ran from the room, and Frankel winced. By God, the bastard had jumped.
“I’m sure you’re right, Oberführer. Any correction would be appreciated.”
“You saw, of course, that the man did not salute and respond to my order. We’ll take care of that. Just a detail, but details are the bricks that build success.”
He’s like a fucking training film, the Major thought. No one’s talked that way since last winter.
The woman was still standing. Frankel didn’t think that his grandmother would have worn such an ugly bonnet. He smiled at her, and she did not smile back.
“Sister Rosa will need accommodations. She’s helping me with my efforts.”
“Of course, Oberführer.” Sucking his cock every night, Frankel thought. Sucking his ass if he wants. Ugly cunt. Won’t smile at anybody but the SS.
“If you don’t need me, Oberführer, I will take a walk and look at the village.”
“Of course, Sister. Your eagerness to work is always commendable.”
The woman left the room, her brown cape sweeping around her. Face like a mule’s bottom, Frankel thought. It was starting to snow. Walking around. What the hell for? What sort of work?
A gabbling sound came from the hall, and three women were shoved into the office by Wiktor. One of them kept trying to put her body between the Major and the youngest woman.
“Ladies.” The Oberführer smiled, and Major Frankel saw the fear in their eyes.
First it was stark fear, fear from the black and silver that the Poles must see in their nightmares now. But then Frankel saw another thing in their eyes. It was—
Almost a softening. Frankel glanced at the Oberführer and noticed for the first time how handsome he was. With his hat off, his wavy hair sprang up, dark and thick. Pale skin and dark eyes. If his hair had been blond he would have been a recruitment poster for the German army. Handsome cocksucker. Well, a lot of the SS were good-looking. They didn’t take pimply humpbacks. Stalingrad was good enough for the ugly Germans.
The women stared and the Oberführer smiled.
“Ladies.” He went closer and lifted his hand as if he would take theirs. The first woman seemed to think he was going to take her hand and kiss it. She flushed.
Instead his hand went to the woman’s breast and he pinched her nipple between his thumb and middle finger. The woman gasped but did not move.
“Ladies. There has been some sort of mistake. And you will correct it. Yes?”
The Oberführer spoke in German, and Wiktor looked at Frankel.
“Do you wish Wiktor to translate, sir? I doubt these women know German.” The Major prayed to God that Wiktor would translate precisely with no clever additions. The Oberführer might speak Polish himself, and Wiktor could be shot on the spot for incorrect translation. That would be damned inconvenient for getting all the paperwork done in the next months.
“Have him translate.” The Oberführer smiled in a way that made the Major sure that he spoke Polish. He hoped Wiktor would be careful. Wiktor was a piece of trash, but he was a useful piece of trash.
Wiktor snapped his heels and translated slowly and correctly. The older woman looked like she might understand some of the German, but she waited until Wiktor had translated to respond.
“Yes, Oberführer,” all three women said.
They had gotten his rank right. Frankel smiled. He had conducted some of the classes himself. The Poles could tell what rank a German was from twenty yards after his
“I’m sorry for this office, Oberführer. It’s impossible to keep clean.”
“The world tells us that everything about our Reich is impossible, but the new German finds only possibility. Only possibility.”
The Oberführer looked at Wiktor and waved his hand. “Go get three women. Quickly.”
Wiktor ran from the room, and Frankel winced. By God, the bastard had jumped.
“I’m sure you’re right, Oberführer. Any correction would be appreciated.”
“You saw, of course, that the man did not salute and respond to my order. We’ll take care of that. Just a detail, but details are the bricks that build success.”
He’s like a fucking training film, the Major thought. No one’s talked that way since last winter.
The woman was still standing. Frankel didn’t think that his grandmother would have worn such an ugly bonnet. He smiled at her, and she did not smile back.
“Sister Rosa will need accommodations. She’s helping me with my efforts.”
“Of course, Oberführer.” Sucking his cock every night, Frankel thought. Sucking his ass if he wants. Ugly cunt. Won’t smile at anybody but the SS.
“If you don’t need me, Oberführer, I will take a walk and look at the village.”
“Of course, Sister. Your eagerness to work is always commendable.”
The woman left the room, her brown cape sweeping around her. Face like a mule’s bottom, Frankel thought. It was starting to snow. Walking around. What the hell for? What sort of work?
A gabbling sound came from the hall, and three women were shoved into the office by Wiktor. One of them kept trying to put her body between the Major and the youngest woman.
“Ladies.” The Oberführer smiled, and Major Frankel saw the fear in their eyes.
First it was stark fear, fear from the black and silver that the Poles must see in their nightmares now. But then Frankel saw another thing in their eyes. It was—
Almost a softening. Frankel glanced at the Oberführer and noticed for the first time how handsome he was. With his hat off, his wavy hair sprang up, dark and thick. Pale skin and dark eyes. If his hair had been blond he would have been a recruitment poster for the German army. Handsome cocksucker. Well, a lot of the SS were good-looking. They didn’t take pimply humpbacks. Stalingrad was good enough for the ugly Germans.
The women stared and the Oberführer smiled.
“Ladies.” He went closer and lifted his hand as if he would take theirs. The first woman seemed to think he was going to take her hand and kiss it. She flushed.
Instead his hand went to the woman’s breast and he pinched her nipple between his thumb and middle finger. The woman gasped but did not move.
“Ladies. There has been some sort of mistake. And you will correct it. Yes?”
The Oberführer spoke in German, and Wiktor looked at Frankel.
“Do you wish Wiktor to translate, sir? I doubt these women know German.” The Major prayed to God that Wiktor would translate precisely with no clever additions. The Oberführer might speak Polish himself, and Wiktor could be shot on the spot for incorrect translation. That would be damned inconvenient for getting all the paperwork done in the next months.
“Have him translate.” The Oberführer smiled in a way that made the Major sure that he spoke Polish. He hoped Wiktor would be careful. Wiktor was a piece of trash, but he was a useful piece of trash.
Wiktor snapped his heels and translated slowly and correctly. The older woman looked like she might understand some of the German, but she waited until Wiktor had translated to respond.
“Yes, Oberführer,” all three women said.
They had gotten his rank right. Frankel smiled. He had conducted some of the classes himself. The Poles could tell what rank a German was from twenty yards after his
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