The Undefeated Part 3:- Breaking out Fritz
Posted: Tue Jun 09, 2026 8:25 pm
After successfully finding her beloved husband, Werner, at the Helibronn POW Camp in the American, Frieda is preparing to leave Karsten's home in Landsberg am Lech to pick up her daughter, Greta. However, despite the warm welcome she received from Karsten's parents, Magda and Gunther, Frieda remains concerned for her best friend Karsten. They found no trace of Fritz thus far, and Karsten fears he may have been marched to Siberia by the victorious Soviets. But little do the former Auxiliaries know that they are about to receive unexpected but welcome news that will take them into the Russian Sector one final time, in search of Fritz Zimmermann…
The Jünge Haus, Landsberg am Lech, Bavaria, Southern Germany, American Sector, Friday 18th August 1945, 08:35am
“You must be looking forward to seeing Greta again, Frieda?” Asked Karsten as she spread strawberry jam on a slice of bread, her voice low and resigned.
Frieda sliced a piece of soft boiled egg and chased it down with hot coffee before answering. “Ja, she'll be pleased to hear from her Papa.”
Karsten just nodded morosely. She bit into the jam slice looking far away at the window behind Frieda's shoulder.
Frieda sighed at the awkwardness between time, before returning to her egg, and the modest Frühstück Frau Jünge had prepared for them.
She was worried about her dear friend. Only the night before, Karsten had been regaling her parents with tales of their exploits, with certain details of their muggings omitted naturally. But enough of the Jünge’s homemade pilsner had passed Karsten's lips, and she had gone to bed in a morose mood, pining over Fritz. And had now only just spoken above three words to her.
After finishing her boiled egg, Frieda took a slice of bread, buttered it and laid a slice of salami on top. “Are you alright, Karsten? You've been quiet most of the morning.” She probed tentatively, taking a bite from her salami loaf.
Eating the last of her jam slice, Karsten took a deep shuddering breath before launching into a despair laden tirade. “My boyfriend, my sweet Fritz, is still missing, Frieda! We've traipsed around Germany and for what?! How the hell do you think I feel!?” She shouted her voice high pitched and hysterical, tears streaming from her young pretty face. “It's fine for you! Your husband is safe and sound in Helibronn and you’ll have him back in no time! But not me! Not my Fritz! He might be dead or those fucking Bolsheviks have marched him off to Siberia for all I know! And now you're leaving, I don't know what to do!” She dropped her face onto her hands and began to sob.
Frieda felt her heartbreak at seeing her friend break down like this. Putting down her salami, she walked around the table and sat next to her friend, pulling her into a hug. “Hey, hey. Come here.”
Karsten took several deep breaths before raising her head, her tear stained big blue eyes full of regret “I-I'm sorry, Frieda. You didn't deserve that. You've been a steadfast friend, a sister really, and I'm treating you like shit. Can you forgive me, my friend?”
Frieda smiled, and kissed her on the forehead. “There's nothing to forgive, Karsten. Besides, you've always been a pain in my ass since that day you walked into the mess hall at the Wolf's Den.”
Karsten gave a half sob-half chuckle, returning the hug. “ You mean that time when I gave you a party salute and you rolled your eyes saying ‘Great another BDM girl, this should be good?’”
Frieda chuckled. “And now we are thick as thieves. Who would have thought that? Everything will be okay, Karsten.”
They held each other for five minutes, until the sound of descending footsteps from upstairs made them pull away. Frieda squeezed her friend's shoulder before returning to the chair opposite
The stout frame of Madga Jünge appeared in the kitchen doorway clutching a basket of dirty linens. She reminded Frieda of her own mother, and she liked her immensely. “Is everything alright, meine lieben? I heard Karsten shouting from upstairs.”
Karsten wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “It's fine, mama. Frieda and I were just discussing Fritz.”
Madga's kind rounded face broke into a smile. “Ah, the Zimmermann boy? You know Frau Herzog, my Mäuschen here was always hopping on the back of that bike of his and sneaking off to kiss him under that oak tree near the village square.” She chuckled as she turned, filling a wooden pail of water.
Karsten blushed. “Mama! Please? You're embarrassing me! Besides, Frieda already knows about that.”
Madga threw her daughter a sly look, as she soaked the dirty linens. “Really? Then does she know that you both were childhood friends? And used to run around with the boy from a few doors down. Oh what was his name?”
Before Karsten could answer, the front door flew open followed by quick footsteps that heralded the appearance of an out of breath bespectacled Gunther Jünge. His face flushed with exhaustion. Wiping her hands, she busied herself with filling up a glass of water for her husband.
Karsten rose from her chair. “Papa? What's the matter? I thought you were opening the shoe shop. And why are you out of breath?”
Getting his breath back, Gunther Jünge accepted the water and took a gulp. “Because, Mäuschen, you’ll never guess who I just saw sleeping on a bench in the square and looking a little worse for wear? Hans Bachmeyer!”
Frau Jünge snapped her fingers in triumph. “That was his name! Hans Bachmeyer!”
A flash of what looked like recognition, passed across her face. “You're sure, Papa? Hans is back?”
Taking another swig of water, Gunther nodded.
At the table, Frieda rose from her chair. “Excuse me, Karsten. But who is this Hans Bachmeyer?”
Karsten turned to face her, picking up her mug of coffee. “Hans was a friend of ours when we were kids. We used to climb the foothills looking for edelweiss.” She paused to drink her coffee. “He and Fritz both enlisted in the 18th Infantry Division, before it was redesignated as the 18th Panzergrenadier Division and served together in the same platoon. They fought in Poland, France, the Eastern Front and all the way back to Berlin.”
Gunther nodded. “Ja, and we spoke. He said that he has a letter for you, Karsten. From Fritz himself.”
Karsten did a double take, hope spreading across her face. “A letter? From Fritz? And you didn't ask him for it, Papa?”
“Nein, Mäuschen. I asked him but he told me that Fritz made him swear to give to you and you alone.”
Karsten glanced at Frieda, a look of recognition passed between them. She then kissed both her parents quickly and ran past her startled father into the hallway, Frieda on her heels. “Danke, Papa. You've just given me hope.” Karsten said over her shoulder.
“Mäuschen? Where are you going? You haven't even touched your Frühstück?” Called Magda from the kitchen doorway.
Karsten snatched her coat from the coat rack, pulling it on. “Sorry, mama. But this is about Fritz, I have to go.” She then tossed a spare jacket to Frieda. “Are you coming, Frieda?”
Smiling Frieda slipped on the jacket. “Are you kidding? I made you a promise, and I’m a woman of my word.”
Squeezing the blonde's shoulder, Karsten opened the door and bid her parents farewell. “Auf Wiedersehen, Mama and Papa.”
“Thanks for the Frühstück, Frau Jünge. And don't worry, I've got Karsten's back “ With that she closed the door.
Standing at the kitchen doorway, Frau Jünge smiled. “Look at our little mäuschen, doing something crazy for love.”
Gunther kissed his wife and leaned on her shoulder. “We were young once. Besides, it's you she takes after.”
Landsberg Town Square, Von-den-Hoff Platz, 08:50am
They arrived at the town square, to find a few farmers coming to and fro from the rathaus and a few park benches surrounding a WW1 Memorial. On one of them, was a sleeping dishevelled beggar wearing a peculiar mix of torn wehrmacht trousers, a stained suit jacket and crumbling army issue boots. His brown hair and beard were long, unruly and unshaven.
Frieda struggled to keep up with her friend, who was frantically scanning the area. “Verdammt! I don't see a man in a Wehrmacht uniform anywhere. Where could Hans be?”
Frieda glanced at the dishevelled man sleeping on the bench, discounting him. “Perhaps we might have missed him? Or he went home, maybe?”
“K-karsten? I thought I heard you, I recognise that voice anywhere.” A male voice from behind them croaked.
The two women spun around to see the beggar, sitting upright and rubbing his bright blue eyes.
Karsten did a double take. “How do know my-? Wait a minute? Hans? Is that you?” She squinted before taking a seat next to him. “It is you! Mein gött, I haven't seen you in five years, since the day you and Fritz left for Poland. I didn't even recognise you at first with all that hair.
Frieda shrugged. “Your father did say Hans was a little worse for wear.”
Hans gave a dry chuckle. “Herr Jünge always was a master of understatement.” Looking at him closely, Frieda was shocked at how thin he was, his clothes barely clung to his emaciated frame. He looked at her quizzically “Who are you, by the way? One of Karsten's friends from the OKW?”
Karsten nodded. “Ja, my name is Frieda Herzog, formerly Sergeant. I’m good friends with Karsten.”
“Ja, we’ve been through a lot together.” Karsten said before hugging him, recoiling away instantly. “Mein gött, Hans. You're deathly thin and you…er…you stink, sorry.”
Hans looked slightly affronted. “Karsten, I haven't eaten in a few days and not bathed or shaved in months.”
The brunette rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly. “Sorry, Hans, I didn't mean to be obtuse. It's good to see you again. So what gives? How did you get here?”
Hans leaned back against the bench. “It's a long story, and I did make Fritz a promise.”
Frieda moved next to the bench. “I'm sure we have the time. And besides, if it's about Fritz I'm sure Karsten would like to hear about it.”
Karsten nodded her head fervently, fixing him with an expectant look. Fritz smiled, taking a deep breath.
“Alright, I owe you that much my friend. It all started late April. You two know how bad it was? Soviets swarming the streets, the führer taking his own life and the SS hanging those they believed to be traitors, man or woman…”
He paused a hollowed traumatised look in his eyes, Karsten squeezed his arm which gave him the courage to continue.
“...our positions in the Alexanderplatz were buckling with each assault and we were losing men left and right to death or desertions. It was hell on earth. So I decided I had enough, I wanted to get away from that hell and to return home to Landsberg.”
He cleared his throat.
“So I went to Fritz and he helped me to desert, took my identity tags to our Sergeant saying I was blown apart by a russian tank while I slipped away like a coward.”
Karsten shook her head. “Don't say that, Hans. You did what you had to do to survive. We understand.”
Hans sighed, a long shuddering breath full of pain before he continued.
“Months passed, I didn’t know if Fritz or anyone else from our old unit survived. All that changed as I was making my way south to Landsberg. It was mid-July, I think and I had found myself sleeping on a park bench in Erfurt, in Thuringia.”
He coughed before continuing.
“Some policeman approached me and I thought I was heading for a night in the cells or even hung for a deserter. Normally, I would have avoided him like the plague since I was both a deserter and a vagrant. But imagine my surprise when I saw his face. It was Fritz!”
Karsten squealed with surprise but then frowned. “Wait? My Fritz a policeman? No way! You remember how many times he used to get into trouble with Officer Strauss?”
Hans laughed. “I know right? I was just as surprised as you are. But it's true I assure you.”
Frieda chuckled. “So what happened next?”
“He told me what had happened after the fall of Berlin; How he defected a short while after he deserted…”
Karsten snorted. “ Fritz a communist? That's even harder to believe than him being a policeman. He doesn't care a fig about politics.”
Hans shrugged. “Tell me about it. But there he was. Anyway, he told me that the Reds had treated him relatively well and he had even befriended a Red Army Sergeant. And through this association he was selected for the newly formed Volkspolizei, and stationed in Erfurt. That's how we were reunited.”
Karsten smiled, looking more relieved than Frieda had seen her since they had escaped from Potsdam. “But my father told me that he had given you a letter? Meant for me?”
Hans nodded. “Before we parted, Fritz asked me a favour. He wanted me to give you this letter…” He took out an envelope from deep inside his trouser pocket, which aside from being a little creased was no worse for wear, and held it out.
“...In that letter he explains everything. Honestly Karsten, given that you were posted to the military academy and eventually Rheinsberg and right in the Red Army's path, I thought you were dead. But Fritz, he never gave up on you and I never had the heart to say otherwise. When he gave me that letter, I made him a promise.”
Karsten gently took it with tears of joy in her eyes, a wide grin on her face. Hans smiled. “And now, I've kept that promise, my old friend.” Wiping her eyes with her cuff, she gave him a friendly kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Hans. You know if you need anything, just ask my parents. We can give you some money to help get you back on your feet, ja?”
Hans kissed her on the forehead. “Thanks, Karsten, I'll keep that in mind. But right now, I think I'm going to see my parents and have a good long bath, make myself decent and have a massive Frühstück. I could eat a horse or several. Auf Wiedersehen, my dear friend.”
Getting up off the bench, he approached Frieda, holding out a hand. “I was glad to have met you, Frau Herzog. Please take care of Karsten, I don't have many friends left now.”
Frieda shook it with a firm grip. “She'll be safe with me, Herr Bachmeyer. Take care of yourself, Auf Wiedersehen.” She saluted him, which he returned before walking back up the hill, leaving the women alone.
Karsten had already opened the letter and was sitting on the bench reading it intently. Frieda slid next to her but let her read.
After a little while, Karsten looked up a mixture of joy and confusion. “So what did he say, Karsten?” Frieda asked.
The brunette sighed with relief. “Well, Fritz confirms what Hans has just told us. And that he always knew in his heart that I was alive.” Her pretty face then creased with a frown. “But the rest has me worried, Frieda. He goes on by saying how life under the Reds isn't so bad and that if I wish it, he hopes that I'll soon join him.”
Frieda took her friend's hand and squeezed it. “You sound worried?”
Karsten nodded gravely. “And conflicted. I'm not going to lie, part of me wants to rush to Erfurt and be with him.” She then shuddered. “Then a part of me remembers not two days ago, when we were about to be sold as party favours. The way that fat Russian pig looked at us like we were no better than dogs. Frieda, the thought of going anywhere near the Soviet Zone repels me.” She tucked the letter into her coat. “Tsk, Fritz you big stupid oaf. What do I do, Frieda?”
Frieda smiled. “We have a third option, Karsten. While we couldn't break out my husband, we can break out Fritz.”
Karsten leaned forward, her concern giving way to a mischievous smile. “I may have already said this, but I like the way you think. What do you propose?”
“From what you've told me about your Fritz, he seems to be a good man if a little naive. Besides, can you honestly say that staying in the Soviet Sector is a good idea?”
Karsten shrugged with one shoulder. “Well, it certainly isn't one of his more brilliant ideas. But he's still my boyfriend, I love him.”
Frieda continued. “Perhaps you can persuade him to see reason? Then he'll follow us back to the American Sector, where he has a family that misses him and a girlfriend who loves him.”
Karsten nodded in agreement. “Ja, that could work. He will listen to me. Alright, let's do it. One last adventure to bring back my sweet lump of a boyfriend.” They rose up off the bench.
Frieda massaged her chin.“First things first; How do we get up there? We need transportation. And something to tell your parents.”
Karsten smiled. “We can lie to them and say Fritz told me to meet up with him in Coburg. It's on the Bavarian border with Thuringia and we take things from there.”
“Alright, let's head back to your parents. I'm sure that they will be pleased to hear that Fritz lives, at any rate.”
With that the town women headed back up the hill towards the Jünge home and Frieda couldn't help but notice that her friend had a slight spring in her step.
The Jünge Haus, 09:10am
“So Fritz is alive! That's wonderful news, Mäuschen!” Madga exclaimed, hugging her daughter.
On the kitchen table, Gunther tented his fingers. “Did he tell you where to meet him, Karsten?”
Frieda and Karsten exchanged pointed looks.
“He told us to meet him at Coburg, Papa. You know on the border with Thuringia?” She lied while keeping her face straight.
Gunther massaged his chin thoughtfully. “Coburg? The checkpoint is there. As a matter of fact I have a delivery to make to a client in Coburg this morning...”
Karsten's face lit up. “Papa? Could you give us a lift on your truck to Coburg, please?”
Gunther swapped looks with his wife. “I suppose I could drop you off on the northern outskirts of town, near the checkpoint, then I can make my delivery before circling back to pick you up.”
Karsten smiled. “Thanks papa.” She said hugging him. Frieda could see how difficult it was for her to lie to her parents.
Then it was Madga's turn to pull her daughter into another hug. “Oh, Mäuschen. I’m going to prepare a dinner to celebrate Fritz's return. Will you be joining us, Frau Herzog?” she asked, kissing Karsten on her cheeks.
Frieda nodded. “Oh yes, of course. I wouldn't miss it for anything.”
“Good, good. I’m sure Fritz will appreciate a good hearty meal. Who knows what those awful Reds have, or haven't, been feeding him. Now please take care of yourselves, I’ll see you all back here.”
Gunther rose from the table. “Right, let's go. If we go now then we’ll be there in a couple of hours.”
Karsten stopped to pick up a satchel in her room, before rejoining Frieda. The two women caught each other's eye, exchanging nods as they followed Gunther out of the front door.
Northern Outskirts of Coburg, on the border between the American and Soviet Sectors, Central Germany, 11:05am
Karsten's father had dropped them off on the outskirts of town, saying that he'll be back to pick them up in an hour or so. A meeting they had no intention of keeping. In the shadow of the looming checkpoint, they bade farewell to Gunther before turning to the checkpoint.
Frieda gestured with her chin to the checkpoint. “We can't simply go through the checkpoints. We don't have the right papers, and we both know how difficult the Reds are to deal with.”
Smiling, Karsten pointed to the forest “Then we don't go through the checkpoints, we go around them.”
“Alright, fraulein BDM lead the way.” Frieda teased, following Karsten into the woods.
Proceeding north through the woods, Frieda and Karsten found the terrain getting denser and denser, the loose branches snagging and tearing at their clothes.
“Are you sure you know what you're doing, Karsten?” Asked Frieda, tearing her skirt on a low hanging branch.
Karsten turned, sighing as her own clothes became ragged. “When I was 16, my BDM troop went on a hiking trip through the schwartzwald, in woods much thicker than this. But I'll admit our uniforms didn't get this badly torn up.” She replied, looking over her shoulder.
Catching her shirt and coat on a thick branch, Frieda fought to free herself, tearing her clothes with a massive ripping sound. “Verdammt! We are going to need a change of clothes once we clear these woods.” She shrugged, gesturing at her torn clothes.
Smiling, Karsten approached her. “Then it's a good thing I brought the American duct tape.” She said, tapping her satchel. “Somehow I figured we would need a change of clothes, or three, at some point. I mean we can't waltz into Erfurt looking like this.”
Frieda patted her friend's shoulder. “That's my girl, always prepared.”
Karsten shrugged, her smile reaching her big blue eyes. “Well the BDM taught me something good at least.” She then flicked her head to the north. “Come on, the woods are starting to thin out and I think I saw the road snaking north. So we must be past the checkpoint by now.”
Karsten was indeed correct, the woods were thinning out and ahead through the forest the road awaited them, raised on both sides by ditches.
Frieda and Karsten emerged from the treeline, their clothes torn and hanging off them, leaves resting in their unkempt hair. Ducking down they took cover in the ditch, glancing down the road.
“Right.” Karsten said, brushing the leaves from her raven coloured hair. “I believe this is the part where our famous luck holds out.”
Sweeping foliage from her ash blonde hair, Frieda smiled wide. “Well would you look at that, there's our clothes and bikes too. We are absurdly lucky after all.”
Looking up the road, they saw two pretty young women, in their early twenties by Frieda’s estimation, cycling towards them. The first a tall brunette with ash brown hair poking from a white floral headscarf, pale diamond shaped features and doe shaped grey-hazel eyes. While the second was a cute little redhead with lightly freckled high cheekbones, rounded features, and bright blue eyes. Her long auburn hair styled into pin curls that bounced off her shoulders.
The brunette was wearing a bottle green green cotton short sleeved blouse with white collar and cuffs and white knee length pleated A-line skirt with matching below the knee socks and black saddle shoes. While her redheaded friend was wearing a tight short sleeve blue and striped t-shirt with white high waisted shorts and brown leather laced oxford shoes.
“Well, well they might just be the best outfits we’ll steal to date, eh Frieda? Apart from the Bavarian dresses, of course. That redhead is just my size.”
Frieda smiled. “And I'll take the brunette. Come on, Karsten, let's introduce ourselves to the young frauleins.”
Grinning, Karsten followed Frieda's lead, running out into the middle of the road.
“It's a good thing we can still access these cycle paths, Ilsa. What with the Soviets and allies carving up the fatherland and everything.” Said pretty redhead Ursula Engel, feeling the wind fly through her auburn hair.
Ilsa Stieglitz shrugged. “Even though we've just got our transit papers from the Amerikaner, I didn’t want to be ogled by soldiers. Just for wanting to cycle our old path, Ursula.”
Ursula fixed her friend with a sly look. “Ogled by soldiers? Which ones? The Soviets or the Americans?”
“Both!” Ilsa laughed, taking her eyes off the road for just a second.
Looking just in name, Ursula saw two women run out into the road. “Ilsa! Look out!”
The two girls pressed on their brakes just in time to come to a stop, getting a better look at the women. One was an attractive older blonde woman, the other a petite raven haired girl. Their clothes were all shredded and hair was dishevelled. Ilsa got the distinct impression they were being sized up.
“Mein Gott! Are you both okay? Why are your clothes all torn up?” she asked as the raven haired girl approached Ursula, making her nervous.
The blonde smiled, brown eyes flicking to Ilsa's blouse. “We are fine, danke. Say, I really like your blouse.”
“W-what?” she reared back,a trickle of fear running down her spine but before she could do anything, the blonde swung a right hook that connected with her cheek. “Urgh!” Ilsa squeaked in pain as she was sent sprawling to the road on her side. Before she lost consciousness, Ilsa heard a similar grunt from Ursula as she fell off her bike onto her back, out cold.
“You know, I’m going to miss this. Frieda.” Karsten said, dragging the unconscious Ursula into the ditch by her ankles.
Frieda glanced at her as she dragged Ilsa off the road under her armpits. “Miss what? Knocking out other women? Or stealing their clothes?” She asked, setting Ursula down before retrieving her bike.
Karsten gently rolled Ursula's bike into the ditch. “Stealing their clothes, it's grown on me. Believe it or not.”
Frieda couldn't help but laugh. “Well look at you. Not two days ago you were fretting about hurting a Russian girl and stripping her down…” She teased, stripping off her shredded clothes.
Pulling off her own ruined clothes, Karsten shrugged. “What can I say? It's grown on me.”
“Fair enough. Alright, let's get them out of their clothes. Your Fritz isn't going to break himself out.
Five Minutes Later
“Well, how do I look?” Karsten said after fastening Ursula’s shorts. “Fits me like a glove.” She twirled like a girl in a boutique.
Frieda nodded appreciatively, tying Ilsa's headscarf over her ash-blonde locks and tucking in a loose strand of hair. “It suits you and really brings out your eyes. You wear it better than she did.”
She jutted her head to the real Ursula, who lay curled up at their feet taped up and scantily clad alongside her friend, Ilsa. The redhead was wearing only a navy blue satin and lace floral bra with matching french cut knickers. While the brunette, Ilsa, hair now unkempt and flowing over her shoulders was clad only in a cream satin slip and matching shorts, the nipples of her well formed breasts peaking under the fabric. Both women were still unconscious.
“You don't look too bad in her outfit either.” Karsten then looked at her laced oxford shoes. “And the shoes fit as well. Wunderbar!” She cried, happily.
Taking both underwear clad girls by the ankles, they dragged them into the treeline concealing them in the bushes.
Walking back to the ditch and in their freshly stolen outfits, she and Karsten hopped onto their stolen bikes. Frieda noticed she had looped the satchel with the duct tape over her shoulder.
She handed Karsten Ursula's papers. “Okay, if any Russian asks you're Ursula Engel and I'm Ilsa Stieglitz. And we're in town visiting our relatives. You, your sister Greta and I'm visiting my mother, Helga.”
Karsten nodded, as Frieda pocketed Ilsa's document. Her face broke into a grin. “Alright, race you to Erfurt, college girl. The last one there is buying the drinks.” She laughed over her shoulder, pedalling north.
“You're on, BDM girl!” Frieda called back, quickly catching up to her.”
National Route 7, 1 Mile West of Auengrund, Thuringia, Central Germany, Soviet Sector, 12:15pm
What initially started as a comfortable downhill ride, soon turned into a gruelling uphill grind for Frieda and Karsten.
Karsten panted with exhaustion. “Don't get me wrong, Frieda, while I like the wind in my hair and sun on my face, we won't reach Erfurt until dusk at this rate.”
Feeling her leg muscles scream in protest, Frieda nodded. “Tell me about it. Let's carry on this road. Who knows? Maybe we'll get lucky.”
Karsten let out a strained bark of laughter. “Ha! Aren't we always?”
They carried on pedalling for another 15 years, hitting the outskirts of a small town called Auengrund in a deep valley. After passing the town, the two women saw a parked black car ahead on the opposite side of the road.
“Wait?” Frieda called holding up a hand and bringing them to a stop. “Up ahead, a car. Do you see it?”
Karsten nodded. “Ja, it's a Mercedes-Benz 770. But where's the driver?”
Frieda leaned into her ear. “Let's take a closer look.”
They wheeled their bikes into the opposite ditch and crouched low, surveying the scene. Not too far away from the 770 was the driver, a middle aged man standing with his back to them against a tree, briefs and trousers down around his ankles. The sound of running water confirmed their suspicion.
Karsten smiled. “He's taking a leak and look there…” she pointed back to the 770 “…he's left his driver's side door wide open, the dunkopf. He must have really needed to go. Are you thinking what I'm thinking, my friend?
Frieda patted her shoulder, smirking. “Absolutely, that car should get us to Erfurt in just under an hour. I think it's time to relieve him of his burden. So you head to the driver's side, Karsten and I’ll take the passenger side. Let's do this quietly.”
“And with luck, the idiot has done us a favour and left the keys in the ignition.” Karsten replied as they sneaked across the road, keeping their eyes on the pissing man.
As Frieda gently opened the passenger door, Karsten hung low as she creeped past the man, getting close enough to smell the urine. Suppressing a gag, she gently clambered into the driver's seat. Opposite her, Frieda slid into the passenger seat.
They both did a double take seeing the keys in the ignition. Shaking their heads at their good fortune, the two women closed the doors silently before Karsten switched on the ignition, switched into first gear and quickly gunned the throttle.
Karsten whooped with joy as they shot away from the pissing man, who was running out into the road, shaking his fist with his trousers down.“I take it back! It's not just American men who are thick!”
Both women laughed as they sped north towards Erfurt. And receding into the distance, the car's owner fell onto the road cursing them. “Verdammte Kinder, das ist mein Auto!” (Damn kids, that's my car!”) He then looked down at his wet trousers, “Scheisser!”
Bahnhofstrasse, Erfurt, Thuringia, Central Germany, Soviet Sector, 13:06pm
As they entered Erfurt, Frieda and Karsten found the town to be crawling with Red Army soldiers of both genders and furtive townspeople. The streets, once plastered with Nazi propaganda, now had Soviet posters extolling that a new era had begun for the people of the occupied Soviet Sector.
Karsten sighed as she navigated them through the streets. “So this is what it's like living with the Reds in charge? It’s awful and what's worse is that my poor Fritz really has no idea.”
Frieda nodded. “You could just cut the tension with a knife.” She then creaked her neck. “So where do you think we’ll find Fritz?”
Karsten turned onto the Bahnhofstrasse.“My guess would be the police station. Luckily, Fritz wrote the address with the letter. It's on Bahnhofstrasse, in the town centre. And we should be coming up on it just about now…”
She pointed to a large three building on their right, the large sign reading Volkspolizeistation above the double wooden doors an obvious giveaway.
Turning right into a side street, Karsten parked the car on the street opposite the station near a church.
The two women got out of the car and looked across the street.
“So what's our next step, Karsten?” Asked Frieda. “Should we go looking for Fritz? I mean he could be on patrol for all we know.”
Karsten shook her head. “He could be anywhere in this town which is crawling with Reds. No, if the Reds are anything like the Wehrmacht then they’ll have his current route in a duty roster, and that would be in that building…” She gestured to the station with her chin.
Frieda smiled, completing the sentence. “...And not in an area accessible to the public. Which means we'll need uniforms.”
The brunette winked. “Exactly, I don't see any police auxiliaries outside so we should get what we need inside.”
“Alright, Karsten. Lead the way, I'm right behind you.”
Rolling her shoulders, Karsten crossed the street, with Frieda falling in step beside her.
Erfurt Police Station, Ground Floor Lobby 13:16pm
They entered the spartan lobby, adorned only by a red carpet, checkered floor and a picture of Josef Stalin against the west wall next to a building directory. Opposite them was a set of wooden doors with Entritt Verboten printed on.
To their right was a reception desk with a pair of booted feet crossed on the desk, belonging to an officer reading the Krasnaya Zvezda newspaper upside down, probably in an effort to appease his Soviet masters.
Frieda pointed this out and Karsten giggled quietly.
“Let's check the floor directory,” She whispered.
A quick glance over told them what they wanted to know. Karsten smiled. “There, the ward room is on the second floor.” She whispered.
“And there's a women’s bathroom just past that door, over there. We can head there, plot our next move and perhaps grab some uniforms.”
Karsten smirked. “If we're lucky.”
Sneaking past the oblivious officer at the reception desk, Frieda and Karsten slipped through the forbidden door and followed the directions to the women's bathroom.
Women's Bathroom, Ground Floor, 13:21pm
Frieda and Karsten had only just entered the women's bathroom when they came face to face with two attractive young Volkspolizei auxiliaries chatting and washing their hands, they turned to face the intruders. One was a small, petite cute strawberry blonde with shoulder length hair framing a slightly squared face, prominent cheekbones and green eyes. Her uniform looked small, even for her. While her friend was a tall, statuesque brunette with soft dark brown curls tied into an elegant chignon and bright hazel eyes. Her uniform was too big.
Their uniforms were old grey Wehrmacht auxiliary uniforms, with white blouses and black ties and with the nazi icons removed,red armbands tied to their right biceps and black laced flat shoes. Matching garrison caps perched on their heads completed the look.
The small blonde narrowed her eyes. “Who are you? This area is off limits to civilians-Ugh!” She squealed in pain as Karsten decked her with a thunderous right room, sending her crashing to the floor unconscious onto her stomach.
The brunette's arms flew up as she recoiled back. “No, please -argh!” She squeaked, the punch from Frieda making her bounce off the cubicle door behind her and sliding down into her ass unconscious.
Frieda knelt by the unconscious brunette. “Looks like we have our uniforms.” She said with a smirk.
Karsten shook her head. “Oh no,no,no. You can't be serious, Frieda. That blonde is a size too small for me, and her…” she pointed to the sleeping brunette slumped against the cubicle “...is even taller than you. Are you sure this is going to work?”
Shrugging, Frieda began to strip off her stolen riding outfit. “I know it's not ideal, Karsten but you do want to find Fritz, don't you? Besides, it might be a supply issue on their end.”
Karsten let out a long sigh then knelt by the smaller blonde, flipping her onto her back. “You're right, I do want to see Fritz and for that I'll endure just about anything.” She said starting to undress. “But I'm going to miss these wonderful shoes.”
5 Minutes Later
“I told you this wasn't going to work, I can't breathe in this thing!” moaned Karsten as she straightened the tie and looked down on her way too small uniform, that was squeezing her boobs and waist. “And don't get me started on these bloody shoes, my feet are pinching!”
It was no better for Frieda, who glanced over her way too big uniform which was practically hanging off her from, with her skirt hanging well past her knees. “I thought it looked bad on her but this is ridiculous.”
They glanced into the darkened attendants cupboard where the original owners of the uniforms sat slumped against the wall shoulder to shoulder, wrists, ankles and mouths taped up. The tiny blonde was wearing only a cheap blue cotton slip, the nipples of her small breasts peeking through the thin fabric. While the tall brunette was wearing a short peach coloured satin negligee with lace trim and matching shorts with stockings and suspenders.
Closing the door on the scantily clad women, Frieda turned to Karsten. “Right, according to her papers I'm Ruth Wagner which makes you…”
“…Gisela Bäcker, who's being smothered by her tight stolen uniform.” Replied Karsten with her characteristic dry wit.
Both women burst out laughing.
After collecting herself, Karsten shook her head, grinning. “I can't decide whether they are the lucky ones or if we are.”
Frieda shrugged, the gesture looking comical in her stolen uniform. “Maybe a bit of both? Come on, let's go. The sooner we find out where Fritz is, the sooner we can get a decent change of clothes.”
“Amen to that.” Karsten said as they filed out of the bathroom in their ill fitting uniforms.
Erfrut Police Station, 1st Floor, 13:42pm
Despite Karsten's protesting feet which drew the attention of a couple of sympathetic auxiliaries, who lamented to the pair about the supply situation, Frieda and Karsten took the stairs and arrived on the station's first floor.
They arrived to find the central office abuzz with activity, officers going to and fro like honey bees. Most were looking harried and busy, including a handsome young officer with short dark reddish-brown hair and teal coloured eyes, who was sorting through a large sheaf of reports on his desk in the middle of the bullring.
Karsten froze when she saw him, a wide grin on her face forming. “Mein gött! It's him, that's my Fritz. He's lost a bit of weight and his uniform is wearing him but that's my man.”
Frieda nodded impressed. She had to admit that he was a handsome boy, although not a patch on Werner. “Karsten. Good catch.”
The brunette looked at her as giddy as a schoolgirl on her first crush. “I know right? Come on, let's get him out of this place.”
Frieda followed her friend through the throng, weaving through the busy officers with muttered apologies and Karsten cursing her too small shoes.
When they got to Fritz's desk, the man had seen them from the corner of his eye as he remained fixated on his paperwork.
“Oh please don't tell me that's more paperwork you have? I've got enough on my plate as it is…”
Letting out a frustrated sigh, Karsten cleared her throat. “Fritz, mein Süßer…"
Fritz suddenly froze, dropping a particularly thick file on his desk. He turned to face them, his expression brightening when he saw Karsten.
“Karsten!” He rose from his seat pulling her into a long embrace, the kind that was five years in the making. “ Meine Hasi! You've got my letter and you've joined the Volkspolizei too? Wunderbar. How long have you been here? And why are your uniforms so badly fitted? I heard that there were supply problems but this is just ridiculous.” He said excitedly without even taking a breath.
Pulling out of the hug, Karsten kissed her man on the lips. “Fritz, mein liebe, take a breath.” She smiled, caressing his cheek. “We haven't joined the Volkspolizei. We had to “borrow” these uniforms. If you catch my drift.”
Fritz evidently hadn't caught on, he looked at her quizzically.
“Borrow? You've made friends already, I see.” He replied, turning to Frieda. “Who is your friend anyway? We haven't been introduced.”
Frieda pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m Frieda Herzog, Karsten's friend from the OKW. It's a long story and we don't have time to chat. Karsten and I are here to bring you home to Landsberg. Karsten…”
Taking her boyfriend's hand, Karsten led them into an empty office with Frieda locking the door behind them. Karsten leant against the desk. Fritz glanced at the two women.
“I don't understand, Karsten. I thought I made it clear that I wanted you to join me here to start a new life. It's really not that bad.”
Karsten shook her head. “Fritz, mein Süßer, the Reds are not good people. They tried to sell us as sex slaves to some NKVD pervert.”
Fritz took her into his arms. “Really? Are you sure? Mein gött, Karsten. That's disgusting. Why would they do that to women?”
By the door, Frieda crossed her arms. “Because they can. They beat us and think they can do with us as they please. Listen to her, Fritz.”
Karsten stroked his hair. “Please, liebling. Come with me back to Landsberg. Your family misses you and I love you.”
Fritz looked away for a moment, unsure but then he looked back to Karsten kissing her hard on the lips. The brunette leaned onto it, returning the kiss.
He reluctantly pulled out. “Well, when you put it like that? How can I say no? I mean it's boring here and I was thinking of going back home, anyhow. ” Giggling, Karsten pulled him towards the door but he pulled her back gently.
“Karsten, wait. I can't go just yet.”
She turned back to face him, eyes full of expectation. “Why not? We should leave now, when we still have the chance.”
He rubbed her shoulders. “Meine hasi, it's not that simple. We are due to have an inspection this afternoon from a NKVD Commissar, who will also be our new political officer. And a woman strangely enough. No one, not even the Commandant has seen her face.”
That got their attention, the two women shared knowing glances a ghost of an idea forming between them.
Frieda smiled. “A woman you say, Fritz?
The man glanced at them with a bemused look on his handsome face. “Yes? Why do you ask?”
Karsten smiled sweetly at him. “Let's just say, we've got an idea and leave it at that.”
She kissed him on the lips passionately. “Do you trust me, mein Süßer?”
He smiled. “You know that I do.”
“I love you...” She said, reluctantly tearing herself away from him, as Frieda opened the office door. But before she left, Karsten looked over her shoulder. “ …and we'll be right back. Just don't be too surprised that the next time you see us, we'll be wearing something different…
“...that actually fits.” Frieda quipped, closing the door behind them.
Leaning against the desk, Fritz chuckled. “I love you too, Karsten.”
14:05pm
The two women retraced their steps through the bullring and back into the staircase. Taking the steps down quickly, Frieda turned to Karsten.
“That NKDV uniform will come in handy, we drive past checkpoints and borders with Fritz and no-one will bat an eye-lid.”
Karsten smiled. “I was thinking the exact same thing, my friend. What do you say? Shall we join the Red Army…again?”
Frieda laughed as they reached the ground floor landing.
“By the way, I hope you'll forgive me for saying this but is Fritz always so dense?”
Karsten blushed bright red. “Well, he's very good with his hands and you've seen how handsome he is, ja? Besides, he's not that dense, usually and bear in mind that he hasn't seen me in several years. So cut him some slack, Frieda, please?”
Frieda held her arms in the air and smiled. “I'm sorry, Karsten. He is quite good looking, so I'll give him that. But he's not a patch on my Werner.”
“Shut up!” Laughed Karsten, pushing her away playfully.
They walked back through the lobby, past the bored officer still reading his paper upside down, and out through the street.
Bahnhofstrasse, Erfurt, Thuringia, Central Germany, Soviet Sector, 14:20pm
Not ten minutes later, Frieda and Karsten saw the marked NKVD limousine drive down Bahnhofstrasse from the north. Signalling Karsten to stand on the pavement at parade rest, Frieda straightened her too big uniform and walked into the street, holding her hand out firmly and directing the car to the curb.
The car came slowly to a halt in front of her, allowing Frieda to get a better look at its occupants. There were two women, the Commissar herself and her driver, both young and attractive.
She walked around to the driver's side passenger door, scanning the women. The Commissar was younger than Frieda expected; a pretty ginger haired girl with traditional slavic squared features, prominent freckled cheekbones and bright green eyes. Her flame coloured hair was tied into a practical bun underneath her blue beret, the red star of the USSR pinned dead centre. Frieda put her age at 23 or 24 at the most.
Her driver was no slouch either; she was a pretty brunette with pale tapered diamond shaped features, shallow cheekbones and big blue eyes. Under her olive green soviet pilotka cap, the driver's chestnut coloured hair was braided into a ponytail that hung over right shoulder. Again, Frieda pegged her age at early twenties at the least.
She tapped the commissar's window twice, saluting and clicking her heels as the woman winded it down, behind her Karsten saluted.
“Comrade Commissar? My name is Comrade Auxiliary Ruth Wagner and this is my fellow Comrade, Auxiliary Gisela Bäcker…” She gestured to Karsten who clicked her heels and held a perfect parade ground stance.
The Commissar and her driver returned the salutes. “ At ease, Auxiliaries. I'm comrade Commissar Anya Lukina, and this is my driver and assistant Efreitor Svetlana Ourimova.” The woman replied in Russian accented German, Frieda had to refrain from wincing at the poor pronunciation.
Frieda tucked her hands behind her back. “Our Commandant sent us to formally greet you and to serve as your guides, Comrade Commissar.”
The Redhead smiled. “Well, I had heard about German efficiency but to see it in action is something else entirely. Please accept my compliments on behalf of your Commandant, I accept his hospitality.”
Smiling, she opened the door for the Commissar as the driver emerged giving Frieda and Karsten a better look at their uniforms. The Commissar was wearing a khaki gymnastyorka shirt-tunic with high collar, shoulder boards with blue piping and the Commissar's rank, held up by a brown leather portupaya belt with diagonal shoulder strap, holstered on her right hip was a TT-33 sidearm. Dark blue riding breeches with red piping down the seams and black leather jackboots.
While the driver was dressed in a khaki gymnastyorka tunic with stand up collar and blue piped shoulder boards, held up by a thick leather belt with a TT-33 sidearm holstered on the hip. A dark blue pair of riding breeches, without the piping, tucked into black leather jackboots.
Frieda immediately sized them up, the Commissar was easily her size and the driver a sure fit for Karsten. She gestured to Karsten with her eyes to Svetlana and her friend replied with a short nod that went undetected by the Soviets.
“Thank you, Comrade Auxiliary. Now please lead the way, I'm eager to meet your Commandant.”
Frieda's smile widened. “Of course, Comrade Commissar…” She and Karsten turned leading towards the secluded back alley behind the police station “…follow us.” She smirked at Karsten, who suppressed a chuckle with a cough.
Back Alley, 14:31pm
As they followed their auxiliary guides down the alley, Commissar Anya Lukina looked at their uniforms and couldn't help but notice that their uniforms didn't fit quite right. She turned to her assistant Svetlana, whispering in Russian. “When my father got me this posting to Germany, he said something about supply issues but did we have to give them such ill fitting uniforms? How are they supposed to do their jobs?”
Svetlana however glanced around the alley. “Um, Comrade Commissar? Why did they lead us down an alley? It doesn't look like a police station.”
With that the blonde auxiliary who had greeted them span around to face them, sizing up the Commissar.
“ Chto zh, tovarishch komissar, vasha forma mne by podoshla luchshe.” ( “Well, Comrade Commissar, your uniform would fit me better.”) Frieda said in fluent Russian.
The two Russians gasped in shock and before the Commissar could react, Frieda struck her on the cheek with a sledgehammer of a right hook. “Ugh!” Commissar Lukina squeaked as she was sent sprawling onto her back, unconscious.
“And yours too,comrade.” Karsten grinned menacingly, advancing on Svetlana and delivering a gut punch that knocked the wind out of the young Soviet, making her double up in pain. She then delivered the coup de graçe with a hammer blow to the girl's brain stem, Svetlana letting out a soft grunt before dropping to the concrete, unconscious, onto her belly.
Wasting no time, Frieda hurriedly stripped out of the too big uniform. “How did you know what I said to Lukina?” she asked Karsten, kneeling by the Commissar in her underwear. “You don't know a word of Russian.”
Karsten exhaled a deep breath as she unfastened her too small jacket. “Mein gött! I can finally breathe!” Turning to Frieda she shrugged. “Call it an educated guess. Besides, you were sizing her up, ja?”
After, tossing the garment in a dumpster, Karsten flipped Svetlana onto her back and pulled off her boots, before loosening her belt.
Frieda grinned as she unbelted Lukina’s belt and shoulder strap. “Fair enough. Come on, let's get these Soviets stripped. From what I've seen of your Fritz, he's definitely not going to save himself.” Yanking off the Commissar's jackboots, she glanced teasingly at her friend.
Karsten rolled her eyes, as she unbuttoned Svetlana's tunic. “Oh ha ha, very funny. Please stop taking the piss out of Fritz.” She replied dryly.
Seven Minutes Later
“Now this is more like it, these boots are so roomy. My feet can breathe again!” Said Karsten as she pulled on Svetlana's jackboot, before putting on the pilotka.
“Seeing how this is the last time we'll resort to stealing clothes from other women, we should keep these uniforms as mementos.” Frieda replied, fixing Commissar Lukina’s beret over her ash blonde hair. “This hat’s a nice touch.”
Karsten looked down slyly at her stolen uniform. “I’ll keep it next to my nurses uniform, for work…and special nights with Fritz.”
Frieda laughed. “That will be a gross misuse of party property, Comrade Jünge.”
Karsten put her hands on her hips. “Pulling rank on me, ja? Well you certainly look the part more than she did, my dear friend.”
She gestured at the scantily clad women, both bound and gagged with duct tape, lying at their feet. Commissar Lukina was wearing only her black satin and lace bullet bra and matching french briefs. Her ginger hair flowing over shoulders, after Frieda had taken her hair tie and pins copying her style. While Svetlana was clad only in a blue camisole with white lace trim, matching blue bra and panties. Her chestnut hair was also loose, Karsten having borrowed the Russian Corporal’s braids.
Frieda hauled the sleeping Commissar onto her shoulder. “It's odd how our adventure began by stealing the uniforms of two Russians and now will end by stealing the uniforms of two Russians.”
Karsten shrugged as scooped up the sleeping Svetlana. “Some people would call that coincidence. Me? I’d say it's another example of our dumb German luck and we have that in spades.”
Opening the dumpster, the two Germans laid the unconscious Russians inside with Svetlana curled up beside Lukina.
“Aw, don't they make a cute couple?” Karsten quipped as they tossed their discarded Volkspolizei uniforms over the naked Russians.
Frieda smirked. “Not neatly cute as you and Fritz. Or Werner and I.”
She then looked wistfully at the empty roll of duct tape they had brought from Frankfurt. "I'm going to miss this stuff.”
Karsten nodded in agreement. “It's definitely made things easier, that's for sure. The Amerikaner may be gullible but they are also ingenious.”
“Auf Wiedersehen und Danke schön.” Frieda muttered, tossing the roll into the dumpster before slamming the dumpster lid on the scantily glad Russians.
Frieda turned, straightening her stolen tunic. “So Comrade Jünge? Ready to pull your man out of the fire?” She said with an air of authority, playing the Commissar.”
Karsten grinned. “Ready as I'll ever be, Comrade Commissar Herzog.” She made a two-fingered salute.
As they made their way out of the alley and walked around to the main doors of the police station, Karsten grinned.
“One thing’s for sure, we're going to scare the piss out of Fritz.”
The Jünge Haus, Landsberg am Lech, Bavaria, Southern Germany, American Sector, Friday 18th August 1945, 08:35am
“You must be looking forward to seeing Greta again, Frieda?” Asked Karsten as she spread strawberry jam on a slice of bread, her voice low and resigned.
Frieda sliced a piece of soft boiled egg and chased it down with hot coffee before answering. “Ja, she'll be pleased to hear from her Papa.”
Karsten just nodded morosely. She bit into the jam slice looking far away at the window behind Frieda's shoulder.
Frieda sighed at the awkwardness between time, before returning to her egg, and the modest Frühstück Frau Jünge had prepared for them.
She was worried about her dear friend. Only the night before, Karsten had been regaling her parents with tales of their exploits, with certain details of their muggings omitted naturally. But enough of the Jünge’s homemade pilsner had passed Karsten's lips, and she had gone to bed in a morose mood, pining over Fritz. And had now only just spoken above three words to her.
After finishing her boiled egg, Frieda took a slice of bread, buttered it and laid a slice of salami on top. “Are you alright, Karsten? You've been quiet most of the morning.” She probed tentatively, taking a bite from her salami loaf.
Eating the last of her jam slice, Karsten took a deep shuddering breath before launching into a despair laden tirade. “My boyfriend, my sweet Fritz, is still missing, Frieda! We've traipsed around Germany and for what?! How the hell do you think I feel!?” She shouted her voice high pitched and hysterical, tears streaming from her young pretty face. “It's fine for you! Your husband is safe and sound in Helibronn and you’ll have him back in no time! But not me! Not my Fritz! He might be dead or those fucking Bolsheviks have marched him off to Siberia for all I know! And now you're leaving, I don't know what to do!” She dropped her face onto her hands and began to sob.
Frieda felt her heartbreak at seeing her friend break down like this. Putting down her salami, she walked around the table and sat next to her friend, pulling her into a hug. “Hey, hey. Come here.”
Karsten took several deep breaths before raising her head, her tear stained big blue eyes full of regret “I-I'm sorry, Frieda. You didn't deserve that. You've been a steadfast friend, a sister really, and I'm treating you like shit. Can you forgive me, my friend?”
Frieda smiled, and kissed her on the forehead. “There's nothing to forgive, Karsten. Besides, you've always been a pain in my ass since that day you walked into the mess hall at the Wolf's Den.”
Karsten gave a half sob-half chuckle, returning the hug. “ You mean that time when I gave you a party salute and you rolled your eyes saying ‘Great another BDM girl, this should be good?’”
Frieda chuckled. “And now we are thick as thieves. Who would have thought that? Everything will be okay, Karsten.”
They held each other for five minutes, until the sound of descending footsteps from upstairs made them pull away. Frieda squeezed her friend's shoulder before returning to the chair opposite
The stout frame of Madga Jünge appeared in the kitchen doorway clutching a basket of dirty linens. She reminded Frieda of her own mother, and she liked her immensely. “Is everything alright, meine lieben? I heard Karsten shouting from upstairs.”
Karsten wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “It's fine, mama. Frieda and I were just discussing Fritz.”
Madga's kind rounded face broke into a smile. “Ah, the Zimmermann boy? You know Frau Herzog, my Mäuschen here was always hopping on the back of that bike of his and sneaking off to kiss him under that oak tree near the village square.” She chuckled as she turned, filling a wooden pail of water.
Karsten blushed. “Mama! Please? You're embarrassing me! Besides, Frieda already knows about that.”
Madga threw her daughter a sly look, as she soaked the dirty linens. “Really? Then does she know that you both were childhood friends? And used to run around with the boy from a few doors down. Oh what was his name?”
Before Karsten could answer, the front door flew open followed by quick footsteps that heralded the appearance of an out of breath bespectacled Gunther Jünge. His face flushed with exhaustion. Wiping her hands, she busied herself with filling up a glass of water for her husband.
Karsten rose from her chair. “Papa? What's the matter? I thought you were opening the shoe shop. And why are you out of breath?”
Getting his breath back, Gunther Jünge accepted the water and took a gulp. “Because, Mäuschen, you’ll never guess who I just saw sleeping on a bench in the square and looking a little worse for wear? Hans Bachmeyer!”
Frau Jünge snapped her fingers in triumph. “That was his name! Hans Bachmeyer!”
A flash of what looked like recognition, passed across her face. “You're sure, Papa? Hans is back?”
Taking another swig of water, Gunther nodded.
At the table, Frieda rose from her chair. “Excuse me, Karsten. But who is this Hans Bachmeyer?”
Karsten turned to face her, picking up her mug of coffee. “Hans was a friend of ours when we were kids. We used to climb the foothills looking for edelweiss.” She paused to drink her coffee. “He and Fritz both enlisted in the 18th Infantry Division, before it was redesignated as the 18th Panzergrenadier Division and served together in the same platoon. They fought in Poland, France, the Eastern Front and all the way back to Berlin.”
Gunther nodded. “Ja, and we spoke. He said that he has a letter for you, Karsten. From Fritz himself.”
Karsten did a double take, hope spreading across her face. “A letter? From Fritz? And you didn't ask him for it, Papa?”
“Nein, Mäuschen. I asked him but he told me that Fritz made him swear to give to you and you alone.”
Karsten glanced at Frieda, a look of recognition passed between them. She then kissed both her parents quickly and ran past her startled father into the hallway, Frieda on her heels. “Danke, Papa. You've just given me hope.” Karsten said over her shoulder.
“Mäuschen? Where are you going? You haven't even touched your Frühstück?” Called Magda from the kitchen doorway.
Karsten snatched her coat from the coat rack, pulling it on. “Sorry, mama. But this is about Fritz, I have to go.” She then tossed a spare jacket to Frieda. “Are you coming, Frieda?”
Smiling Frieda slipped on the jacket. “Are you kidding? I made you a promise, and I’m a woman of my word.”
Squeezing the blonde's shoulder, Karsten opened the door and bid her parents farewell. “Auf Wiedersehen, Mama and Papa.”
“Thanks for the Frühstück, Frau Jünge. And don't worry, I've got Karsten's back “ With that she closed the door.
Standing at the kitchen doorway, Frau Jünge smiled. “Look at our little mäuschen, doing something crazy for love.”
Gunther kissed his wife and leaned on her shoulder. “We were young once. Besides, it's you she takes after.”
Landsberg Town Square, Von-den-Hoff Platz, 08:50am
They arrived at the town square, to find a few farmers coming to and fro from the rathaus and a few park benches surrounding a WW1 Memorial. On one of them, was a sleeping dishevelled beggar wearing a peculiar mix of torn wehrmacht trousers, a stained suit jacket and crumbling army issue boots. His brown hair and beard were long, unruly and unshaven.
Frieda struggled to keep up with her friend, who was frantically scanning the area. “Verdammt! I don't see a man in a Wehrmacht uniform anywhere. Where could Hans be?”
Frieda glanced at the dishevelled man sleeping on the bench, discounting him. “Perhaps we might have missed him? Or he went home, maybe?”
“K-karsten? I thought I heard you, I recognise that voice anywhere.” A male voice from behind them croaked.
The two women spun around to see the beggar, sitting upright and rubbing his bright blue eyes.
Karsten did a double take. “How do know my-? Wait a minute? Hans? Is that you?” She squinted before taking a seat next to him. “It is you! Mein gött, I haven't seen you in five years, since the day you and Fritz left for Poland. I didn't even recognise you at first with all that hair.
Frieda shrugged. “Your father did say Hans was a little worse for wear.”
Hans gave a dry chuckle. “Herr Jünge always was a master of understatement.” Looking at him closely, Frieda was shocked at how thin he was, his clothes barely clung to his emaciated frame. He looked at her quizzically “Who are you, by the way? One of Karsten's friends from the OKW?”
Karsten nodded. “Ja, my name is Frieda Herzog, formerly Sergeant. I’m good friends with Karsten.”
“Ja, we’ve been through a lot together.” Karsten said before hugging him, recoiling away instantly. “Mein gött, Hans. You're deathly thin and you…er…you stink, sorry.”
Hans looked slightly affronted. “Karsten, I haven't eaten in a few days and not bathed or shaved in months.”
The brunette rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly. “Sorry, Hans, I didn't mean to be obtuse. It's good to see you again. So what gives? How did you get here?”
Hans leaned back against the bench. “It's a long story, and I did make Fritz a promise.”
Frieda moved next to the bench. “I'm sure we have the time. And besides, if it's about Fritz I'm sure Karsten would like to hear about it.”
Karsten nodded her head fervently, fixing him with an expectant look. Fritz smiled, taking a deep breath.
“Alright, I owe you that much my friend. It all started late April. You two know how bad it was? Soviets swarming the streets, the führer taking his own life and the SS hanging those they believed to be traitors, man or woman…”
He paused a hollowed traumatised look in his eyes, Karsten squeezed his arm which gave him the courage to continue.
“...our positions in the Alexanderplatz were buckling with each assault and we were losing men left and right to death or desertions. It was hell on earth. So I decided I had enough, I wanted to get away from that hell and to return home to Landsberg.”
He cleared his throat.
“So I went to Fritz and he helped me to desert, took my identity tags to our Sergeant saying I was blown apart by a russian tank while I slipped away like a coward.”
Karsten shook her head. “Don't say that, Hans. You did what you had to do to survive. We understand.”
Hans sighed, a long shuddering breath full of pain before he continued.
“Months passed, I didn’t know if Fritz or anyone else from our old unit survived. All that changed as I was making my way south to Landsberg. It was mid-July, I think and I had found myself sleeping on a park bench in Erfurt, in Thuringia.”
He coughed before continuing.
“Some policeman approached me and I thought I was heading for a night in the cells or even hung for a deserter. Normally, I would have avoided him like the plague since I was both a deserter and a vagrant. But imagine my surprise when I saw his face. It was Fritz!”
Karsten squealed with surprise but then frowned. “Wait? My Fritz a policeman? No way! You remember how many times he used to get into trouble with Officer Strauss?”
Hans laughed. “I know right? I was just as surprised as you are. But it's true I assure you.”
Frieda chuckled. “So what happened next?”
“He told me what had happened after the fall of Berlin; How he defected a short while after he deserted…”
Karsten snorted. “ Fritz a communist? That's even harder to believe than him being a policeman. He doesn't care a fig about politics.”
Hans shrugged. “Tell me about it. But there he was. Anyway, he told me that the Reds had treated him relatively well and he had even befriended a Red Army Sergeant. And through this association he was selected for the newly formed Volkspolizei, and stationed in Erfurt. That's how we were reunited.”
Karsten smiled, looking more relieved than Frieda had seen her since they had escaped from Potsdam. “But my father told me that he had given you a letter? Meant for me?”
Hans nodded. “Before we parted, Fritz asked me a favour. He wanted me to give you this letter…” He took out an envelope from deep inside his trouser pocket, which aside from being a little creased was no worse for wear, and held it out.
“...In that letter he explains everything. Honestly Karsten, given that you were posted to the military academy and eventually Rheinsberg and right in the Red Army's path, I thought you were dead. But Fritz, he never gave up on you and I never had the heart to say otherwise. When he gave me that letter, I made him a promise.”
Karsten gently took it with tears of joy in her eyes, a wide grin on her face. Hans smiled. “And now, I've kept that promise, my old friend.” Wiping her eyes with her cuff, she gave him a friendly kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Hans. You know if you need anything, just ask my parents. We can give you some money to help get you back on your feet, ja?”
Hans kissed her on the forehead. “Thanks, Karsten, I'll keep that in mind. But right now, I think I'm going to see my parents and have a good long bath, make myself decent and have a massive Frühstück. I could eat a horse or several. Auf Wiedersehen, my dear friend.”
Getting up off the bench, he approached Frieda, holding out a hand. “I was glad to have met you, Frau Herzog. Please take care of Karsten, I don't have many friends left now.”
Frieda shook it with a firm grip. “She'll be safe with me, Herr Bachmeyer. Take care of yourself, Auf Wiedersehen.” She saluted him, which he returned before walking back up the hill, leaving the women alone.
Karsten had already opened the letter and was sitting on the bench reading it intently. Frieda slid next to her but let her read.
After a little while, Karsten looked up a mixture of joy and confusion. “So what did he say, Karsten?” Frieda asked.
The brunette sighed with relief. “Well, Fritz confirms what Hans has just told us. And that he always knew in his heart that I was alive.” Her pretty face then creased with a frown. “But the rest has me worried, Frieda. He goes on by saying how life under the Reds isn't so bad and that if I wish it, he hopes that I'll soon join him.”
Frieda took her friend's hand and squeezed it. “You sound worried?”
Karsten nodded gravely. “And conflicted. I'm not going to lie, part of me wants to rush to Erfurt and be with him.” She then shuddered. “Then a part of me remembers not two days ago, when we were about to be sold as party favours. The way that fat Russian pig looked at us like we were no better than dogs. Frieda, the thought of going anywhere near the Soviet Zone repels me.” She tucked the letter into her coat. “Tsk, Fritz you big stupid oaf. What do I do, Frieda?”
Frieda smiled. “We have a third option, Karsten. While we couldn't break out my husband, we can break out Fritz.”
Karsten leaned forward, her concern giving way to a mischievous smile. “I may have already said this, but I like the way you think. What do you propose?”
“From what you've told me about your Fritz, he seems to be a good man if a little naive. Besides, can you honestly say that staying in the Soviet Sector is a good idea?”
Karsten shrugged with one shoulder. “Well, it certainly isn't one of his more brilliant ideas. But he's still my boyfriend, I love him.”
Frieda continued. “Perhaps you can persuade him to see reason? Then he'll follow us back to the American Sector, where he has a family that misses him and a girlfriend who loves him.”
Karsten nodded in agreement. “Ja, that could work. He will listen to me. Alright, let's do it. One last adventure to bring back my sweet lump of a boyfriend.” They rose up off the bench.
Frieda massaged her chin.“First things first; How do we get up there? We need transportation. And something to tell your parents.”
Karsten smiled. “We can lie to them and say Fritz told me to meet up with him in Coburg. It's on the Bavarian border with Thuringia and we take things from there.”
“Alright, let's head back to your parents. I'm sure that they will be pleased to hear that Fritz lives, at any rate.”
With that the town women headed back up the hill towards the Jünge home and Frieda couldn't help but notice that her friend had a slight spring in her step.
The Jünge Haus, 09:10am
“So Fritz is alive! That's wonderful news, Mäuschen!” Madga exclaimed, hugging her daughter.
On the kitchen table, Gunther tented his fingers. “Did he tell you where to meet him, Karsten?”
Frieda and Karsten exchanged pointed looks.
“He told us to meet him at Coburg, Papa. You know on the border with Thuringia?” She lied while keeping her face straight.
Gunther massaged his chin thoughtfully. “Coburg? The checkpoint is there. As a matter of fact I have a delivery to make to a client in Coburg this morning...”
Karsten's face lit up. “Papa? Could you give us a lift on your truck to Coburg, please?”
Gunther swapped looks with his wife. “I suppose I could drop you off on the northern outskirts of town, near the checkpoint, then I can make my delivery before circling back to pick you up.”
Karsten smiled. “Thanks papa.” She said hugging him. Frieda could see how difficult it was for her to lie to her parents.
Then it was Madga's turn to pull her daughter into another hug. “Oh, Mäuschen. I’m going to prepare a dinner to celebrate Fritz's return. Will you be joining us, Frau Herzog?” she asked, kissing Karsten on her cheeks.
Frieda nodded. “Oh yes, of course. I wouldn't miss it for anything.”
“Good, good. I’m sure Fritz will appreciate a good hearty meal. Who knows what those awful Reds have, or haven't, been feeding him. Now please take care of yourselves, I’ll see you all back here.”
Gunther rose from the table. “Right, let's go. If we go now then we’ll be there in a couple of hours.”
Karsten stopped to pick up a satchel in her room, before rejoining Frieda. The two women caught each other's eye, exchanging nods as they followed Gunther out of the front door.
Northern Outskirts of Coburg, on the border between the American and Soviet Sectors, Central Germany, 11:05am
Karsten's father had dropped them off on the outskirts of town, saying that he'll be back to pick them up in an hour or so. A meeting they had no intention of keeping. In the shadow of the looming checkpoint, they bade farewell to Gunther before turning to the checkpoint.
Frieda gestured with her chin to the checkpoint. “We can't simply go through the checkpoints. We don't have the right papers, and we both know how difficult the Reds are to deal with.”
Smiling, Karsten pointed to the forest “Then we don't go through the checkpoints, we go around them.”
“Alright, fraulein BDM lead the way.” Frieda teased, following Karsten into the woods.
Proceeding north through the woods, Frieda and Karsten found the terrain getting denser and denser, the loose branches snagging and tearing at their clothes.
“Are you sure you know what you're doing, Karsten?” Asked Frieda, tearing her skirt on a low hanging branch.
Karsten turned, sighing as her own clothes became ragged. “When I was 16, my BDM troop went on a hiking trip through the schwartzwald, in woods much thicker than this. But I'll admit our uniforms didn't get this badly torn up.” She replied, looking over her shoulder.
Catching her shirt and coat on a thick branch, Frieda fought to free herself, tearing her clothes with a massive ripping sound. “Verdammt! We are going to need a change of clothes once we clear these woods.” She shrugged, gesturing at her torn clothes.
Smiling, Karsten approached her. “Then it's a good thing I brought the American duct tape.” She said, tapping her satchel. “Somehow I figured we would need a change of clothes, or three, at some point. I mean we can't waltz into Erfurt looking like this.”
Frieda patted her friend's shoulder. “That's my girl, always prepared.”
Karsten shrugged, her smile reaching her big blue eyes. “Well the BDM taught me something good at least.” She then flicked her head to the north. “Come on, the woods are starting to thin out and I think I saw the road snaking north. So we must be past the checkpoint by now.”
Karsten was indeed correct, the woods were thinning out and ahead through the forest the road awaited them, raised on both sides by ditches.
Frieda and Karsten emerged from the treeline, their clothes torn and hanging off them, leaves resting in their unkempt hair. Ducking down they took cover in the ditch, glancing down the road.
“Right.” Karsten said, brushing the leaves from her raven coloured hair. “I believe this is the part where our famous luck holds out.”
Sweeping foliage from her ash blonde hair, Frieda smiled wide. “Well would you look at that, there's our clothes and bikes too. We are absurdly lucky after all.”
Looking up the road, they saw two pretty young women, in their early twenties by Frieda’s estimation, cycling towards them. The first a tall brunette with ash brown hair poking from a white floral headscarf, pale diamond shaped features and doe shaped grey-hazel eyes. While the second was a cute little redhead with lightly freckled high cheekbones, rounded features, and bright blue eyes. Her long auburn hair styled into pin curls that bounced off her shoulders.
The brunette was wearing a bottle green green cotton short sleeved blouse with white collar and cuffs and white knee length pleated A-line skirt with matching below the knee socks and black saddle shoes. While her redheaded friend was wearing a tight short sleeve blue and striped t-shirt with white high waisted shorts and brown leather laced oxford shoes.
“Well, well they might just be the best outfits we’ll steal to date, eh Frieda? Apart from the Bavarian dresses, of course. That redhead is just my size.”
Frieda smiled. “And I'll take the brunette. Come on, Karsten, let's introduce ourselves to the young frauleins.”
Grinning, Karsten followed Frieda's lead, running out into the middle of the road.
“It's a good thing we can still access these cycle paths, Ilsa. What with the Soviets and allies carving up the fatherland and everything.” Said pretty redhead Ursula Engel, feeling the wind fly through her auburn hair.
Ilsa Stieglitz shrugged. “Even though we've just got our transit papers from the Amerikaner, I didn’t want to be ogled by soldiers. Just for wanting to cycle our old path, Ursula.”
Ursula fixed her friend with a sly look. “Ogled by soldiers? Which ones? The Soviets or the Americans?”
“Both!” Ilsa laughed, taking her eyes off the road for just a second.
Looking just in name, Ursula saw two women run out into the road. “Ilsa! Look out!”
The two girls pressed on their brakes just in time to come to a stop, getting a better look at the women. One was an attractive older blonde woman, the other a petite raven haired girl. Their clothes were all shredded and hair was dishevelled. Ilsa got the distinct impression they were being sized up.
“Mein Gott! Are you both okay? Why are your clothes all torn up?” she asked as the raven haired girl approached Ursula, making her nervous.
The blonde smiled, brown eyes flicking to Ilsa's blouse. “We are fine, danke. Say, I really like your blouse.”
“W-what?” she reared back,a trickle of fear running down her spine but before she could do anything, the blonde swung a right hook that connected with her cheek. “Urgh!” Ilsa squeaked in pain as she was sent sprawling to the road on her side. Before she lost consciousness, Ilsa heard a similar grunt from Ursula as she fell off her bike onto her back, out cold.
“You know, I’m going to miss this. Frieda.” Karsten said, dragging the unconscious Ursula into the ditch by her ankles.
Frieda glanced at her as she dragged Ilsa off the road under her armpits. “Miss what? Knocking out other women? Or stealing their clothes?” She asked, setting Ursula down before retrieving her bike.
Karsten gently rolled Ursula's bike into the ditch. “Stealing their clothes, it's grown on me. Believe it or not.”
Frieda couldn't help but laugh. “Well look at you. Not two days ago you were fretting about hurting a Russian girl and stripping her down…” She teased, stripping off her shredded clothes.
Pulling off her own ruined clothes, Karsten shrugged. “What can I say? It's grown on me.”
“Fair enough. Alright, let's get them out of their clothes. Your Fritz isn't going to break himself out.
Five Minutes Later
“Well, how do I look?” Karsten said after fastening Ursula’s shorts. “Fits me like a glove.” She twirled like a girl in a boutique.
Frieda nodded appreciatively, tying Ilsa's headscarf over her ash-blonde locks and tucking in a loose strand of hair. “It suits you and really brings out your eyes. You wear it better than she did.”
She jutted her head to the real Ursula, who lay curled up at their feet taped up and scantily clad alongside her friend, Ilsa. The redhead was wearing only a navy blue satin and lace floral bra with matching french cut knickers. While the brunette, Ilsa, hair now unkempt and flowing over her shoulders was clad only in a cream satin slip and matching shorts, the nipples of her well formed breasts peaking under the fabric. Both women were still unconscious.
“You don't look too bad in her outfit either.” Karsten then looked at her laced oxford shoes. “And the shoes fit as well. Wunderbar!” She cried, happily.
Taking both underwear clad girls by the ankles, they dragged them into the treeline concealing them in the bushes.
Walking back to the ditch and in their freshly stolen outfits, she and Karsten hopped onto their stolen bikes. Frieda noticed she had looped the satchel with the duct tape over her shoulder.
She handed Karsten Ursula's papers. “Okay, if any Russian asks you're Ursula Engel and I'm Ilsa Stieglitz. And we're in town visiting our relatives. You, your sister Greta and I'm visiting my mother, Helga.”
Karsten nodded, as Frieda pocketed Ilsa's document. Her face broke into a grin. “Alright, race you to Erfurt, college girl. The last one there is buying the drinks.” She laughed over her shoulder, pedalling north.
“You're on, BDM girl!” Frieda called back, quickly catching up to her.”
National Route 7, 1 Mile West of Auengrund, Thuringia, Central Germany, Soviet Sector, 12:15pm
What initially started as a comfortable downhill ride, soon turned into a gruelling uphill grind for Frieda and Karsten.
Karsten panted with exhaustion. “Don't get me wrong, Frieda, while I like the wind in my hair and sun on my face, we won't reach Erfurt until dusk at this rate.”
Feeling her leg muscles scream in protest, Frieda nodded. “Tell me about it. Let's carry on this road. Who knows? Maybe we'll get lucky.”
Karsten let out a strained bark of laughter. “Ha! Aren't we always?”
They carried on pedalling for another 15 years, hitting the outskirts of a small town called Auengrund in a deep valley. After passing the town, the two women saw a parked black car ahead on the opposite side of the road.
“Wait?” Frieda called holding up a hand and bringing them to a stop. “Up ahead, a car. Do you see it?”
Karsten nodded. “Ja, it's a Mercedes-Benz 770. But where's the driver?”
Frieda leaned into her ear. “Let's take a closer look.”
They wheeled their bikes into the opposite ditch and crouched low, surveying the scene. Not too far away from the 770 was the driver, a middle aged man standing with his back to them against a tree, briefs and trousers down around his ankles. The sound of running water confirmed their suspicion.
Karsten smiled. “He's taking a leak and look there…” she pointed back to the 770 “…he's left his driver's side door wide open, the dunkopf. He must have really needed to go. Are you thinking what I'm thinking, my friend?
Frieda patted her shoulder, smirking. “Absolutely, that car should get us to Erfurt in just under an hour. I think it's time to relieve him of his burden. So you head to the driver's side, Karsten and I’ll take the passenger side. Let's do this quietly.”
“And with luck, the idiot has done us a favour and left the keys in the ignition.” Karsten replied as they sneaked across the road, keeping their eyes on the pissing man.
As Frieda gently opened the passenger door, Karsten hung low as she creeped past the man, getting close enough to smell the urine. Suppressing a gag, she gently clambered into the driver's seat. Opposite her, Frieda slid into the passenger seat.
They both did a double take seeing the keys in the ignition. Shaking their heads at their good fortune, the two women closed the doors silently before Karsten switched on the ignition, switched into first gear and quickly gunned the throttle.
Karsten whooped with joy as they shot away from the pissing man, who was running out into the road, shaking his fist with his trousers down.“I take it back! It's not just American men who are thick!”
Both women laughed as they sped north towards Erfurt. And receding into the distance, the car's owner fell onto the road cursing them. “Verdammte Kinder, das ist mein Auto!” (Damn kids, that's my car!”) He then looked down at his wet trousers, “Scheisser!”
Bahnhofstrasse, Erfurt, Thuringia, Central Germany, Soviet Sector, 13:06pm
As they entered Erfurt, Frieda and Karsten found the town to be crawling with Red Army soldiers of both genders and furtive townspeople. The streets, once plastered with Nazi propaganda, now had Soviet posters extolling that a new era had begun for the people of the occupied Soviet Sector.
Karsten sighed as she navigated them through the streets. “So this is what it's like living with the Reds in charge? It’s awful and what's worse is that my poor Fritz really has no idea.”
Frieda nodded. “You could just cut the tension with a knife.” She then creaked her neck. “So where do you think we’ll find Fritz?”
Karsten turned onto the Bahnhofstrasse.“My guess would be the police station. Luckily, Fritz wrote the address with the letter. It's on Bahnhofstrasse, in the town centre. And we should be coming up on it just about now…”
She pointed to a large three building on their right, the large sign reading Volkspolizeistation above the double wooden doors an obvious giveaway.
Turning right into a side street, Karsten parked the car on the street opposite the station near a church.
The two women got out of the car and looked across the street.
“So what's our next step, Karsten?” Asked Frieda. “Should we go looking for Fritz? I mean he could be on patrol for all we know.”
Karsten shook her head. “He could be anywhere in this town which is crawling with Reds. No, if the Reds are anything like the Wehrmacht then they’ll have his current route in a duty roster, and that would be in that building…” She gestured to the station with her chin.
Frieda smiled, completing the sentence. “...And not in an area accessible to the public. Which means we'll need uniforms.”
The brunette winked. “Exactly, I don't see any police auxiliaries outside so we should get what we need inside.”
“Alright, Karsten. Lead the way, I'm right behind you.”
Rolling her shoulders, Karsten crossed the street, with Frieda falling in step beside her.
Erfurt Police Station, Ground Floor Lobby 13:16pm
They entered the spartan lobby, adorned only by a red carpet, checkered floor and a picture of Josef Stalin against the west wall next to a building directory. Opposite them was a set of wooden doors with Entritt Verboten printed on.
To their right was a reception desk with a pair of booted feet crossed on the desk, belonging to an officer reading the Krasnaya Zvezda newspaper upside down, probably in an effort to appease his Soviet masters.
Frieda pointed this out and Karsten giggled quietly.
“Let's check the floor directory,” She whispered.
A quick glance over told them what they wanted to know. Karsten smiled. “There, the ward room is on the second floor.” She whispered.
“And there's a women’s bathroom just past that door, over there. We can head there, plot our next move and perhaps grab some uniforms.”
Karsten smirked. “If we're lucky.”
Sneaking past the oblivious officer at the reception desk, Frieda and Karsten slipped through the forbidden door and followed the directions to the women's bathroom.
Women's Bathroom, Ground Floor, 13:21pm
Frieda and Karsten had only just entered the women's bathroom when they came face to face with two attractive young Volkspolizei auxiliaries chatting and washing their hands, they turned to face the intruders. One was a small, petite cute strawberry blonde with shoulder length hair framing a slightly squared face, prominent cheekbones and green eyes. Her uniform looked small, even for her. While her friend was a tall, statuesque brunette with soft dark brown curls tied into an elegant chignon and bright hazel eyes. Her uniform was too big.
Their uniforms were old grey Wehrmacht auxiliary uniforms, with white blouses and black ties and with the nazi icons removed,red armbands tied to their right biceps and black laced flat shoes. Matching garrison caps perched on their heads completed the look.
The small blonde narrowed her eyes. “Who are you? This area is off limits to civilians-Ugh!” She squealed in pain as Karsten decked her with a thunderous right room, sending her crashing to the floor unconscious onto her stomach.
The brunette's arms flew up as she recoiled back. “No, please -argh!” She squeaked, the punch from Frieda making her bounce off the cubicle door behind her and sliding down into her ass unconscious.
Frieda knelt by the unconscious brunette. “Looks like we have our uniforms.” She said with a smirk.
Karsten shook her head. “Oh no,no,no. You can't be serious, Frieda. That blonde is a size too small for me, and her…” she pointed to the sleeping brunette slumped against the cubicle “...is even taller than you. Are you sure this is going to work?”
Shrugging, Frieda began to strip off her stolen riding outfit. “I know it's not ideal, Karsten but you do want to find Fritz, don't you? Besides, it might be a supply issue on their end.”
Karsten let out a long sigh then knelt by the smaller blonde, flipping her onto her back. “You're right, I do want to see Fritz and for that I'll endure just about anything.” She said starting to undress. “But I'm going to miss these wonderful shoes.”
5 Minutes Later
“I told you this wasn't going to work, I can't breathe in this thing!” moaned Karsten as she straightened the tie and looked down on her way too small uniform, that was squeezing her boobs and waist. “And don't get me started on these bloody shoes, my feet are pinching!”
It was no better for Frieda, who glanced over her way too big uniform which was practically hanging off her from, with her skirt hanging well past her knees. “I thought it looked bad on her but this is ridiculous.”
They glanced into the darkened attendants cupboard where the original owners of the uniforms sat slumped against the wall shoulder to shoulder, wrists, ankles and mouths taped up. The tiny blonde was wearing only a cheap blue cotton slip, the nipples of her small breasts peeking through the thin fabric. While the tall brunette was wearing a short peach coloured satin negligee with lace trim and matching shorts with stockings and suspenders.
Closing the door on the scantily clad women, Frieda turned to Karsten. “Right, according to her papers I'm Ruth Wagner which makes you…”
“…Gisela Bäcker, who's being smothered by her tight stolen uniform.” Replied Karsten with her characteristic dry wit.
Both women burst out laughing.
After collecting herself, Karsten shook her head, grinning. “I can't decide whether they are the lucky ones or if we are.”
Frieda shrugged, the gesture looking comical in her stolen uniform. “Maybe a bit of both? Come on, let's go. The sooner we find out where Fritz is, the sooner we can get a decent change of clothes.”
“Amen to that.” Karsten said as they filed out of the bathroom in their ill fitting uniforms.
Erfrut Police Station, 1st Floor, 13:42pm
Despite Karsten's protesting feet which drew the attention of a couple of sympathetic auxiliaries, who lamented to the pair about the supply situation, Frieda and Karsten took the stairs and arrived on the station's first floor.
They arrived to find the central office abuzz with activity, officers going to and fro like honey bees. Most were looking harried and busy, including a handsome young officer with short dark reddish-brown hair and teal coloured eyes, who was sorting through a large sheaf of reports on his desk in the middle of the bullring.
Karsten froze when she saw him, a wide grin on her face forming. “Mein gött! It's him, that's my Fritz. He's lost a bit of weight and his uniform is wearing him but that's my man.”
Frieda nodded impressed. She had to admit that he was a handsome boy, although not a patch on Werner. “Karsten. Good catch.”
The brunette looked at her as giddy as a schoolgirl on her first crush. “I know right? Come on, let's get him out of this place.”
Frieda followed her friend through the throng, weaving through the busy officers with muttered apologies and Karsten cursing her too small shoes.
When they got to Fritz's desk, the man had seen them from the corner of his eye as he remained fixated on his paperwork.
“Oh please don't tell me that's more paperwork you have? I've got enough on my plate as it is…”
Letting out a frustrated sigh, Karsten cleared her throat. “Fritz, mein Süßer…"
Fritz suddenly froze, dropping a particularly thick file on his desk. He turned to face them, his expression brightening when he saw Karsten.
“Karsten!” He rose from his seat pulling her into a long embrace, the kind that was five years in the making. “ Meine Hasi! You've got my letter and you've joined the Volkspolizei too? Wunderbar. How long have you been here? And why are your uniforms so badly fitted? I heard that there were supply problems but this is just ridiculous.” He said excitedly without even taking a breath.
Pulling out of the hug, Karsten kissed her man on the lips. “Fritz, mein liebe, take a breath.” She smiled, caressing his cheek. “We haven't joined the Volkspolizei. We had to “borrow” these uniforms. If you catch my drift.”
Fritz evidently hadn't caught on, he looked at her quizzically.
“Borrow? You've made friends already, I see.” He replied, turning to Frieda. “Who is your friend anyway? We haven't been introduced.”
Frieda pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m Frieda Herzog, Karsten's friend from the OKW. It's a long story and we don't have time to chat. Karsten and I are here to bring you home to Landsberg. Karsten…”
Taking her boyfriend's hand, Karsten led them into an empty office with Frieda locking the door behind them. Karsten leant against the desk. Fritz glanced at the two women.
“I don't understand, Karsten. I thought I made it clear that I wanted you to join me here to start a new life. It's really not that bad.”
Karsten shook her head. “Fritz, mein Süßer, the Reds are not good people. They tried to sell us as sex slaves to some NKVD pervert.”
Fritz took her into his arms. “Really? Are you sure? Mein gött, Karsten. That's disgusting. Why would they do that to women?”
By the door, Frieda crossed her arms. “Because they can. They beat us and think they can do with us as they please. Listen to her, Fritz.”
Karsten stroked his hair. “Please, liebling. Come with me back to Landsberg. Your family misses you and I love you.”
Fritz looked away for a moment, unsure but then he looked back to Karsten kissing her hard on the lips. The brunette leaned onto it, returning the kiss.
He reluctantly pulled out. “Well, when you put it like that? How can I say no? I mean it's boring here and I was thinking of going back home, anyhow. ” Giggling, Karsten pulled him towards the door but he pulled her back gently.
“Karsten, wait. I can't go just yet.”
She turned back to face him, eyes full of expectation. “Why not? We should leave now, when we still have the chance.”
He rubbed her shoulders. “Meine hasi, it's not that simple. We are due to have an inspection this afternoon from a NKVD Commissar, who will also be our new political officer. And a woman strangely enough. No one, not even the Commandant has seen her face.”
That got their attention, the two women shared knowing glances a ghost of an idea forming between them.
Frieda smiled. “A woman you say, Fritz?
The man glanced at them with a bemused look on his handsome face. “Yes? Why do you ask?”
Karsten smiled sweetly at him. “Let's just say, we've got an idea and leave it at that.”
She kissed him on the lips passionately. “Do you trust me, mein Süßer?”
He smiled. “You know that I do.”
“I love you...” She said, reluctantly tearing herself away from him, as Frieda opened the office door. But before she left, Karsten looked over her shoulder. “ …and we'll be right back. Just don't be too surprised that the next time you see us, we'll be wearing something different…
“...that actually fits.” Frieda quipped, closing the door behind them.
Leaning against the desk, Fritz chuckled. “I love you too, Karsten.”
14:05pm
The two women retraced their steps through the bullring and back into the staircase. Taking the steps down quickly, Frieda turned to Karsten.
“That NKDV uniform will come in handy, we drive past checkpoints and borders with Fritz and no-one will bat an eye-lid.”
Karsten smiled. “I was thinking the exact same thing, my friend. What do you say? Shall we join the Red Army…again?”
Frieda laughed as they reached the ground floor landing.
“By the way, I hope you'll forgive me for saying this but is Fritz always so dense?”
Karsten blushed bright red. “Well, he's very good with his hands and you've seen how handsome he is, ja? Besides, he's not that dense, usually and bear in mind that he hasn't seen me in several years. So cut him some slack, Frieda, please?”
Frieda held her arms in the air and smiled. “I'm sorry, Karsten. He is quite good looking, so I'll give him that. But he's not a patch on my Werner.”
“Shut up!” Laughed Karsten, pushing her away playfully.
They walked back through the lobby, past the bored officer still reading his paper upside down, and out through the street.
Bahnhofstrasse, Erfurt, Thuringia, Central Germany, Soviet Sector, 14:20pm
Not ten minutes later, Frieda and Karsten saw the marked NKVD limousine drive down Bahnhofstrasse from the north. Signalling Karsten to stand on the pavement at parade rest, Frieda straightened her too big uniform and walked into the street, holding her hand out firmly and directing the car to the curb.
The car came slowly to a halt in front of her, allowing Frieda to get a better look at its occupants. There were two women, the Commissar herself and her driver, both young and attractive.
She walked around to the driver's side passenger door, scanning the women. The Commissar was younger than Frieda expected; a pretty ginger haired girl with traditional slavic squared features, prominent freckled cheekbones and bright green eyes. Her flame coloured hair was tied into a practical bun underneath her blue beret, the red star of the USSR pinned dead centre. Frieda put her age at 23 or 24 at the most.
Her driver was no slouch either; she was a pretty brunette with pale tapered diamond shaped features, shallow cheekbones and big blue eyes. Under her olive green soviet pilotka cap, the driver's chestnut coloured hair was braided into a ponytail that hung over right shoulder. Again, Frieda pegged her age at early twenties at the least.
She tapped the commissar's window twice, saluting and clicking her heels as the woman winded it down, behind her Karsten saluted.
“Comrade Commissar? My name is Comrade Auxiliary Ruth Wagner and this is my fellow Comrade, Auxiliary Gisela Bäcker…” She gestured to Karsten who clicked her heels and held a perfect parade ground stance.
The Commissar and her driver returned the salutes. “ At ease, Auxiliaries. I'm comrade Commissar Anya Lukina, and this is my driver and assistant Efreitor Svetlana Ourimova.” The woman replied in Russian accented German, Frieda had to refrain from wincing at the poor pronunciation.
Frieda tucked her hands behind her back. “Our Commandant sent us to formally greet you and to serve as your guides, Comrade Commissar.”
The Redhead smiled. “Well, I had heard about German efficiency but to see it in action is something else entirely. Please accept my compliments on behalf of your Commandant, I accept his hospitality.”
Smiling, she opened the door for the Commissar as the driver emerged giving Frieda and Karsten a better look at their uniforms. The Commissar was wearing a khaki gymnastyorka shirt-tunic with high collar, shoulder boards with blue piping and the Commissar's rank, held up by a brown leather portupaya belt with diagonal shoulder strap, holstered on her right hip was a TT-33 sidearm. Dark blue riding breeches with red piping down the seams and black leather jackboots.
While the driver was dressed in a khaki gymnastyorka tunic with stand up collar and blue piped shoulder boards, held up by a thick leather belt with a TT-33 sidearm holstered on the hip. A dark blue pair of riding breeches, without the piping, tucked into black leather jackboots.
Frieda immediately sized them up, the Commissar was easily her size and the driver a sure fit for Karsten. She gestured to Karsten with her eyes to Svetlana and her friend replied with a short nod that went undetected by the Soviets.
“Thank you, Comrade Auxiliary. Now please lead the way, I'm eager to meet your Commandant.”
Frieda's smile widened. “Of course, Comrade Commissar…” She and Karsten turned leading towards the secluded back alley behind the police station “…follow us.” She smirked at Karsten, who suppressed a chuckle with a cough.
Back Alley, 14:31pm
As they followed their auxiliary guides down the alley, Commissar Anya Lukina looked at their uniforms and couldn't help but notice that their uniforms didn't fit quite right. She turned to her assistant Svetlana, whispering in Russian. “When my father got me this posting to Germany, he said something about supply issues but did we have to give them such ill fitting uniforms? How are they supposed to do their jobs?”
Svetlana however glanced around the alley. “Um, Comrade Commissar? Why did they lead us down an alley? It doesn't look like a police station.”
With that the blonde auxiliary who had greeted them span around to face them, sizing up the Commissar.
“ Chto zh, tovarishch komissar, vasha forma mne by podoshla luchshe.” ( “Well, Comrade Commissar, your uniform would fit me better.”) Frieda said in fluent Russian.
The two Russians gasped in shock and before the Commissar could react, Frieda struck her on the cheek with a sledgehammer of a right hook. “Ugh!” Commissar Lukina squeaked as she was sent sprawling onto her back, unconscious.
“And yours too,comrade.” Karsten grinned menacingly, advancing on Svetlana and delivering a gut punch that knocked the wind out of the young Soviet, making her double up in pain. She then delivered the coup de graçe with a hammer blow to the girl's brain stem, Svetlana letting out a soft grunt before dropping to the concrete, unconscious, onto her belly.
Wasting no time, Frieda hurriedly stripped out of the too big uniform. “How did you know what I said to Lukina?” she asked Karsten, kneeling by the Commissar in her underwear. “You don't know a word of Russian.”
Karsten exhaled a deep breath as she unfastened her too small jacket. “Mein gött! I can finally breathe!” Turning to Frieda she shrugged. “Call it an educated guess. Besides, you were sizing her up, ja?”
After, tossing the garment in a dumpster, Karsten flipped Svetlana onto her back and pulled off her boots, before loosening her belt.
Frieda grinned as she unbelted Lukina’s belt and shoulder strap. “Fair enough. Come on, let's get these Soviets stripped. From what I've seen of your Fritz, he's definitely not going to save himself.” Yanking off the Commissar's jackboots, she glanced teasingly at her friend.
Karsten rolled her eyes, as she unbuttoned Svetlana's tunic. “Oh ha ha, very funny. Please stop taking the piss out of Fritz.” She replied dryly.
Seven Minutes Later
“Now this is more like it, these boots are so roomy. My feet can breathe again!” Said Karsten as she pulled on Svetlana's jackboot, before putting on the pilotka.
“Seeing how this is the last time we'll resort to stealing clothes from other women, we should keep these uniforms as mementos.” Frieda replied, fixing Commissar Lukina’s beret over her ash blonde hair. “This hat’s a nice touch.”
Karsten looked down slyly at her stolen uniform. “I’ll keep it next to my nurses uniform, for work…and special nights with Fritz.”
Frieda laughed. “That will be a gross misuse of party property, Comrade Jünge.”
Karsten put her hands on her hips. “Pulling rank on me, ja? Well you certainly look the part more than she did, my dear friend.”
She gestured at the scantily clad women, both bound and gagged with duct tape, lying at their feet. Commissar Lukina was wearing only her black satin and lace bullet bra and matching french briefs. Her ginger hair flowing over shoulders, after Frieda had taken her hair tie and pins copying her style. While Svetlana was clad only in a blue camisole with white lace trim, matching blue bra and panties. Her chestnut hair was also loose, Karsten having borrowed the Russian Corporal’s braids.
Frieda hauled the sleeping Commissar onto her shoulder. “It's odd how our adventure began by stealing the uniforms of two Russians and now will end by stealing the uniforms of two Russians.”
Karsten shrugged as scooped up the sleeping Svetlana. “Some people would call that coincidence. Me? I’d say it's another example of our dumb German luck and we have that in spades.”
Opening the dumpster, the two Germans laid the unconscious Russians inside with Svetlana curled up beside Lukina.
“Aw, don't they make a cute couple?” Karsten quipped as they tossed their discarded Volkspolizei uniforms over the naked Russians.
Frieda smirked. “Not neatly cute as you and Fritz. Or Werner and I.”
She then looked wistfully at the empty roll of duct tape they had brought from Frankfurt. "I'm going to miss this stuff.”
Karsten nodded in agreement. “It's definitely made things easier, that's for sure. The Amerikaner may be gullible but they are also ingenious.”
“Auf Wiedersehen und Danke schön.” Frieda muttered, tossing the roll into the dumpster before slamming the dumpster lid on the scantily glad Russians.
Frieda turned, straightening her stolen tunic. “So Comrade Jünge? Ready to pull your man out of the fire?” She said with an air of authority, playing the Commissar.”
Karsten grinned. “Ready as I'll ever be, Comrade Commissar Herzog.” She made a two-fingered salute.
As they made their way out of the alley and walked around to the main doors of the police station, Karsten grinned.
“One thing’s for sure, we're going to scare the piss out of Fritz.”
