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Subject: {ASSM} Lost Victories by Rachael Ross (M/f, M/F, Nazi Germany, Fant - Alt  History)
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Lost Victories
by Rachael Ross

Copyright 2010 Rachael Ross all rights reserved. Intended for Adults
Only. rache696@yahoo.com
Synopsis: A young woman in the Third Reich struggles to find her
destiny. This story is set in an alternative history based upon the
preposition that Hitler died prior to the invasion of Poland and the
world war that resulted.

Codes: M/f, M/F, Fantasy - Alternative History


=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Lost Victories


Bavaria - 1954


    "In the fields and on the heath," Werner sang in his deep, sweet
voice, "I lose strength through joy."

    "Shhh..." I giggled, snuggling closer with his erection firmly
planted within my sex. "Someone will hear you."

    "Who? They're all working," he said, shifting slightly and pulling
me so that I lay more fully on his bare chest. "I love you."

    "Mmmm..." I rocked my hips, straddling his thighs and working myself
lower onto his prick. "That's what you told Brigitte yesterday."

    "She talks too much," he sighed, holding my ass and lifting
himself to drive the last few inches inside.

    "And Erna?" I teased him. "Last week?"

    "Are you jealous?" he asked and I kissed him, feeling my swollen
nipples burning against his cool skin.

    I felt so hot, inside and out, and I'd been a virgin until
arriving in Bavaria. At fourteen, I'd graduated from the Jungmaedel
into the Bund Deutscher Maedel, and my father had packed his only
child off somewhat unhappily for a month of camping in the
countryside. I'd been born and raised in Berlin and had felt no desire
to leave the city, but that had changed quickly enough.

    A Labor Service camp for young men in the Land Jahr had been
constructed nearby and Werner, like so many others, had to spend a
year working with local farmers. After that, he'd probably be
conscripted into the army, but for the moment he liked to sneak out of
the fields and into the girls' Hitler Youth camp. Two of my new
friends had slept with him and naturally I'd been curious, especially
after hearing their stories.

    And they were all true, I thought, moaning as his tongue filled my
eager mouth and Werner seemed so much larger than me. He was eighteen
and very strong, very fit and handsome with his closely cropped hair
and deep blue eyes. I was at an age where all men held a fascination
for me and it had been so easy to fall in love. I'd given myself to
him with hardly a murmur of protest and now he held my smallish body
against his, driving his cock inside my pussy harder and faster as the
urgency grew. I whimpered weakly, closing my eyes and gasping for
every ragged breath I could find.

    "More...More...Yes..." Werner groaned, digging his fingers into my flesh
and staring into my face as I rode him to orgasm. The pain of losing
my virginity, if I'd really felt it at all, had long since
disappeared. Perhaps because he wasn't very well endowed? I had no way
of knowing then and it doesn't matter at all. My body had been made
for this, everyone said so, and now I believed it.

    I felt his cock jerking inside me, spilling the immediate and
distinct warmth of Werner's semen deep within my womb. The sensation
brought my own shuddering climax and I collapsed completely upon him,
feeling my flushed cheeks grow damp as tears filled my eyes. I kissed
his neck and jaw while he held me and shivered with the pleasure of
our union. Sex, I'd already decided, was now my favorite thing in the
world and I couldn't seem to get enough of it. Especially the
afterwards, when he held me and kissed my face and hair.

    Werner watched as I dressed quickly, frowning at the straw
clinging to my clothes. We'd used a blanket, but I felt itchy as well
and I desperately wanted to take a bath. I shook my skirt, blue and
modest, snapping the cotton through a shaft of dusty sunlight before
stepping into it. My panties were terribly stained and I couldn't
decide if I enjoyed the feeling of Werner's sperm leaking from my sex
or not. Either way I had little choice and I'd be wearing the man
between my thighs for much of the day.

    "Where did my brassiere go?" I asked, looking around the loft and
then rolling my eyes as he pulled it out from under him.

    "This one?" he teased me with a smile and I snatched it away.

    "You're going to get us in trouble," I told him. "You have to get
out of here."

    "I like to see you," he said, admiring my milk white breasts as I
covered them. They were hardly generous, but firm and nicely formed
anyway. I liked the way he looked at me and I wasn't shy.

    "Will you write to me?" I slipped into my blouse, simple and white
and began to button the front of it.

    "I said I would," Werner shrugged. "Will you write me back?"

    "Of course." I smiled at him. "I'll miss you."

    "While you're dancing in Berlin?" he sighed. "You'll forget all
about me, Lise."

    "My father won't let me go dancing," I giggled. "He won't even let
me have a boyfriend."

    "What will he say when you receive my letters?"

    "I'll hide them," I said, pulling on my wool socks and I didn't
like those very much, or the heavy hiking shoes we had to wear.

    "You know, I really do love you," Werner said with a sigh. "You're
entirely beautiful to me."

    "I don't believe you!" I laughed, scrunching up my nose and
standing once more, combing my fingers through my dirty blonde hair.

    "Beautiful," he insisted and I left upon that word, wanting it to
be his last thought of me. Any other goodbye would have been harsh and
nearly unbearable.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Berlin - 1954


    "What are these?" My father threw the bundle of letters onto my
bed. I'd bound them together with a red ribbon and hidden them in my
closet.

    "Letters," I said, ignoring the pounding of my heart and lifting
my chin. "From my admirer."

    "Admirer?" His lips were thin and white, his eyes dark with anger.
"What have you done?"

    "I don't know what you mean." I swallowed hard and turned my face
towards the windows overlooking Hanfstaenglstrasse.

    "Don't play games with me!" he shouted, stamping across the room
in his boots. "Tell me. Now!"

    "Herr Reich Minister!" Ingrid gasped, the old woman's eyes
widening as my father raised his hand as if to strike me.

    "You've been ill," he said. "You're losing weight and can't sleep.
I know all of this."

    "Then you know everything," I told him, casting a dirty frown at
my handmaid and Ingrid refused to meet my gaze.

    "I want to hear it from you," my father insisted.

    "Very well," I cleared my throat and turned to face him directly.
"I'm pregnant, Father. Nearly three months now."

    "God in heaven," he breathed, wincing as if I'd slapped his face.

    "I've decided to keep it," I told him with a faint smile, rather
enjoying this despite the icy knot of fear in my belly.

    "You've decided..." he whispered. "No! Absolutely not!"

    "But I must, Father," I said calmly. "I have a duty to the
Fatherland, the Fuhrer himself said so."

    "Damn the Fuhrer!" he snarled and I blinked at that. "Do you even
know who the father is?"

    "Of course," I nodded quickly, realizing I'd gone too far. "He's
there..." I pointed, "...on the bed. He loves me."

    "Stay here," my father said, retrieving the thin bundle of letters
and turning away.

    "Where are you going?" I asked, but he didn't even slow down.
"What are you going to do? Father!"

    "Don't let her out of this room," I heard him tell Ingrid as she'd
followed him to the door. "Under no circumstances."

    "Yes, Herr Reich Minister," she agreed quickly, dipping her head
and closing my bedroom door behind him.

    She'd betrayed me, of course, and I gave her a withering look, but
beyond that there was little else I could do.

    "Lise...Wake up now," Ingrid whispered, sitting on my bed and
patting my hand. "The doctor is here."

    "Get away!" I breathed, jerking my hand from her wrinkled fingers.

    They'd come for my baby in the middle of the night, the way thugs
and criminals do. Two strong men to hold me down and the doctor to
cure me of my indiscretion. My father stood in the doorway, a shadow
of a man with the light behind him, and I screamed. I fought, but to
no avail. In the end my father would win, as he always did, and they
left me exhausted and angry, drugged and calm and dreaming terrible
things.

    "You let him do it," I whispered as my mother bent over my bed,
smoothing my comforter.

    "For the best," she replied. "Go to sleep."

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

    "Did you murder him?" I asked my father over breakfast several
days later.

    He ignored me, turning a page of the London Times, the newspaper
he preferred with his coffee. A copy of the morning paper, the
Voelkischer Beobachter, lay undisturbed on the teacart at his elbow.

    "I asked you if you killed him," I repeated, demanding an answer,
and he didn't even lift his eyes.

    "He won't bother you any more," my father said. "I've taken care
of everything."

    I had no reply to that and we sat in silence but for the rustle of
newsprint and the chirping of birds. The terrace overlooked a small,
but well tended garden surrounded on three sides by a high, brick
wall. The modest grounds seemed a luxury in the center of Berlin,
where so many parks had been lost to the never ending construction.
And it couldn't compare with my grandfather's estate in East Prussia,
of course, a place I'd grown very fond of during our occasional visits
and hoped to see again soon.

    "Your car is waiting, Herr Reich Minister, and yours as well,
Fraulein," Josef, our butler, announced. "Captain Roepke has your
books."

    "Thank you," I said, fighting back the tears that threatened to
spill down my cheeks. I refused to give my father the satisfaction.

    I rode in the back of the Mercedes in silence while Captain Roepke
drove me to the gymnasium. He reminded me of Werner and I stared at
the man's neck where it was exposed above the black collar of his
Schutzstaffel uniform. They shared the same Nordic features. In the
nose and jaw and in their clear, bright eyes. A handsome young man,
this SS captain, and he must have been about the same age as Werner, I
thought, but then I remembered that Werner would never grow a day
older.

    I did cry then, finally.

    "Where have you been?" Nora wondered as I took my seat beside her
in class.

    "Home," I shrugged. "I wasn't feeling well."

    "You haven't missed very much," she said and quickly proceeded to
report faithfully the most recent gossip. I pretended to listen until
she was interrupted by the familiar strains of Deutschland uber Alles.

    Rassenkunde, our first class of the day, was the one I enjoyed
least. I found the subject boring at best and most often
contradictory, even to my adolescent mind. Doubtless others thought
much the same thing and so the subject was slowly fading from the
curriculum, but not yet disappearing completely. My father had waved
away my incessant questions, telling me to attend to my studies and
ignore my confusion.

    "In America, we see the deliberate and systematic spread of
disease by Jews, using the blacks ..." our teacher, Frau Klein, lectured
in her droning voice and I spent my time drawing pictures of
windmills.

    "Hey," Nora whispered. "How come nobody in Germany ever dies from
syphilis?"

    "I don't know," I shrugged.

    "Because the Gestapo shoots them first!" she said with a soft
giggle and I rolled my eyes.

    "They'll shoot you someday," I predicted and the girl stuck her
tongue out at me.

    We were fourteen and going to live forever, that's what she
thought and so many of my other classmates as well. I'd believed it
myself until just recently and I touched my empty tummy, sitting up
straight in my chair and giving Frau Klein my attentive blue eyes.
She'd remember that one moment out of the many and I'd get a small
check mark next to my name. Lise Speer von Manstein was a superb
student, an ardent National Socialist, and a credit to the Fatherland.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

East Prussia - 1957


    "Grandfather!" I smiled and leapt off the train in most unladylike
fashion, running into his hug like a little girl.

    "Oh! Careful," he grunted and the old general was nearing seventy,
but still healthy and alert. "I've missed you, Lise."

    "I've missed you," I replied, kissing his cheeks and keeping my
arm around him as we turned away from the platform and towards the
great glass and steel structure of Konigsberg Station.

    "How was your trip," he asked. "Any trouble crossing the
Corridor?"

    "No," I shook my head. "They didn't even stop the train this
time."

    "Good," he nodded. "The Poles are preoccupied with Russia."

    "Will there be war?" I wondered and that had been a favorite topic
in Germany over the last few weeks.

    "I don't think so," my grandfather said. "But there should be."

    "I feel sick every time I pass through Danzig," I told him
truthfully. "I saw a sign on a wall..."

    "What did it say?"

    "We are forgotten."

    "Hmmm..." the general frowned at that.

    "They'd tried to wash it away," I shrugged. "But I could still see
it."

    "They're not forgotten, Lise."

    "I know," I agreed and made the effort to speak of more cheerful
things. "Where is your new automobile? Can I drive it?"

    "Do you know how to drive?" he asked with a chuckle and a doubtful
purse of his lips.

    "I'm a very good driver!" I laughed. "You'll see."

    Grandfather's adjutant, Major Crispin, stood near an oversized
Mercedes waiting for us and he greeted me warmly as well. Although
retired these past few years, Colonel General Erich von Manstein had
been the Chief of the Army General Staff, and therefore entitled to
the privileges of his rank unto death itself. He still wore his
uniform on occasion and retained some influence in the Wehrmacht. Not
nearly so much as he'd enjoyed as the second most senior officer in
the Reich, but enough for my purposes, I hoped.

    I did indeed drive my grandfather's fine new car, much to the
chagrin of Sergeant Dahl, the general's official driver. The Mercedes
was large and painted Prussian blue, an oversized sedan with a
powerful motor and luxurious interior. It had been presented to him
courtesy of the Verein Graf Schlieffen, an association of retired
staff officers. I rather enjoyed roaring across the Junker estates
with their great and ancient oak trees flying past like huge fence
posts. In the passenger seat beside me, my grandfather laughed, but in
the mirror I could see the poor major turning pale and I reluctantly
slowed to a more stately pace.

    "Are you alright, Major?" I teased him after arriving safely at
our destination.

    He simply smiled and I had a feeling Major Crispin would be
sharing a brandy with the sergeant after I'd been settled into my
room.

    The rustic villa had once been used as a hunting lodge by a
Hohenzollern Margrave and cousin to Frederick the Great. During the
1930's the land had been apportioned by Herman Goering when he became
the President of Prussia, giving legal ownership to the Party.
Subsequent to the Fuhrer's death, the estate had been gifted to my
grandfather for supporting Chancellor Schact during the dark days of
the Beck Putsch.

    I'd sometimes looked down upon that gift, fearing perhaps that
bribery may not be too strong a word, but history is written by the
victorious and Prussia had often rewarded her generals for the sublime
performance of their duty. My grandfather had acted out of conscience
in any event and to consider him a mercenary would be unthinkable.

    As it turned out, we all had a brandy in the comfort of
Grandfather's spacious study. Sergeant Dahl stayed only long enough to
start a fire in the hearth and toast the general's health before
taking his leave, but Major Crispin remained and I didn't mind. I'd
turned seventeen half a year previously with a wandering eye for
handsome young men, and the good major had not yet turned thirty.

    "To your father," the general said, lifting his glass after
Crispin had refilled it.

    "The Reich Minister," I agreed politely and the old man caught my
something in my tone, or perhaps the look in my eye.

    "How is he?" Grandfather asked and I shrugged, looking down at my
glass after taking a small sip of the warm liquor.

    "He sends his regards," I answered, fulfilling my usual role as my
father's apologist. "The Chancellor likes to keep him in Berlin."

    "Of course," he agreed and changed the subject. "Tomorrow we'll
visit your mother. Yes?"

    "Yes," I nodded.

    "I haven't been there in some time," he sighed. "I don't like to
go alone."

    "I understand," I told him, reaching for his hand. "I'm here now,
Grandfather. We'll go together."

    Soon thereafter his housekeeper announced dinner and we spent much
of it listening to stories about me when I'd been small. Grandfather
had missed me greatly, and me him, and it was good to be home again.
That was very much how I thought of it too. I lived in Berlin, but
that had seemed a cold and heartless place these past few years and I
felt glad to be away from it.

==============

    "Lise?"

    Major Crispin looked surprised when he opened the door to his
bedroom and I laughed lightly, clutching a shawl to my breasts with
one hand and holding a bottle of champagne with the other.

    "May I come in?" I asked. "My feet are freezing."

    "What?" He looked down at my bare toes for a moment before
collecting his wits. "Yes. Of course, but...What are you doing here?"

    "I couldn't sleep," I said, giggling like a nervous school girl as
I scampered across the room and fell onto his bed. "Do you have
glasses?"

    "I, uh..." he smiled, knotting his bathrobe and glancing around the
room, "...No. I don't think so."

    "That's alright," I shrugged, peeling the wrapping from around the
cork. "We can share the bottle."

    "Lise," he chuckled. "You shouldn't be here."

    "Why not?" I offered him a calculated pout and I'd spent the
better part of an hour making myself beautiful...and working up my
courage.

    "The general will put me in front of a firing squad," he said and
I laughed out loud.

    "He will not!" I made a face as I pressed against the stopper with
my thumbs.

    *POP*

    "Oh!" I held the bottle away from me as cold champagne erupted
onto the bed and then the floor. "He loves you like a son."

    "And you're his grand-daughter," he sighed. "That makes us
practically related."

    "Practically!" I giggled, jerking my head and inviting him to join
me. "Come here now and stop pretending."

    "Pretending?" The major widened his eyes and stepped closer,
finally deciding to sit with me as I made room for him.

    "Hmmmm..." I swallowed a mouthful of champagne and pushed the bottle
towards him, "...that you don't like me."

    "You know I like you," he said. I watched as he took a large
swallow and licked his lips, giving me his warm eyes. "I've known you
since you were ten..."

    "Eleven and a half," I corrected him.

    "You should have never grown up, Lise," Crispin decided as I
reached for his broad shoulders.

    "Too late," I whispered, pulling him down as I lay on his pillows.
"Now...What are you going to do about it, Herr Major?"

    "Open your mouth..." He held up the bottle.

    "Umph!" I swallowed quickly and laughed, choking and spilling
champagne down my neck and into my hair.

    The man licked my skin and I shivered happily beneath his kisses.
I opened my nightgown, exposing my breasts and he baptized my hard
nipples with wine, kissing and biting them gently while I cradled his
head and murmured my appreciation. He bathed my taut belly and sipped
from my navel, making me giggle until the major took a long pull from
the bottle and fed me with a champagne filled kiss that I swallowed
greedily.

    "I should have brought two bottles," I teased him, lying naked in
the chill night air, but feeling nothing except the warmth of my
arousal.

    "Do you want me to find another one?" he asked and I shook my
head, feeling his erection pressing naked between my thighs.

    "You should kiss me," I whispered, "or I'll wake the entire the
house."

    "You will?"

    "I'm very loud in bed," I told him solemnly and then spoiled it
with another giggle.

    "I believe you," he laughed and then kissed me deeply, pushing his
tongue into my mouth and a moment later entering my ready sex with his
swollen manhood.

    "Ummm..." I winced and nodded my head, smiling into the major's face
as we made love. He liked to put my legs over his shoulders and I'd
never felt anything like it before. The position, my complete
vulnerability, made him seem even larger than he was and I gasped as
his cockhead found the very bottom of my sex.

    "I've wanted you for...so...long...Lise..." he whispered, panting the
words in time with his thrusts.

    "I know," I gasped, pulling at his hips and thighs with my
fingers, urging him to fuck me harder.

    I recalled my previous visits, arriving unpredictably as I grew
from a girl into a woman, and how Major Crispin would look at me. The
warmth I felt and the excitement as his restrained interest grew with
each passing year. I'd teased him at times, playing the innocent, but
knowing this night would come eventually. At seventeen, I couldn't
wait any longer and now we were together, joined inevitably by chance
and choice. I tried fervently to remain clear and catalogue the sights
and smells and sounds, committing every sensation to memory so that
I'd never forget.

    But my orgasm peaked too soon and I surrendered completely, losing
all sense as the pleasure grew. I clutched at the man awkwardly,
desperate to be kissed in that moment when the walls of my sex
collapsed around his cock. I wanted to hold him inside me forever and
it wasn't long before Crispin began to cum as well. His stiff member
pulsed like a second heartbeat deep in my belly and I welcomed the
intimacy of receiving his seed. That seemed the best part for me, not
my own climax, but his, and I felt completed by it somehow.

    "Thank you," I breathed, flushed and giddy with the euphoria of
the moment.

    "You're welcome," Crispin smiled, his confusion tempered with
amusement, and we both knew we weren't yet finished. The nights in
East Prussia were very long this time of year.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

    Grandfather had constructed a mausoleum in the side of a small
hill for his wife some ten years before, and a short time later his
daughter had joined her. My mother, Angela Speer von Manstein, had
died of tuberculosis when I'd been twelve years old. Her funeral
provided the last occasion in which we were all together, my parents
and I, my grandfather and his wife. My father had not returned since,
but he'd suffered this before when his first wife, Margarete, had died
giving birth to their first child. My half-brother, Charles, hadn't
survived her by more than twenty minutes and I often thought of him,
as I'm sure my father did as well.

    Such ill-fortune had shaped my father's life, and mine, and I
sometimes blamed those two women for failing him so completely. How
different things might have been if only one of them had survived? But
those were weak and childish thoughts and I cast them aside. I'd
brought flowers that I'd picked from the fields around my
grandfather's home. Wild flowers, coarse and beautiful like the land
upon which they thrived.

    I arranged the flowers beneath the stone upon which their names
were engraved, kneeling on the rocky dirt and brushing away the dust
and grime that collected over time. The day had dawned chill and grey;
the sun did not shine and the wind tugged at my dress and the
redingote I wore over it. My hair blew into my face and I wiped it
away with my tears before rising to rejoin my grandfather. He held my
hand as we stood there for a long while, sharing our most private
thoughts in a silence born of blood.

    "I've decided what I want to do," I told my grandfather once we
were in the car and away from that place.

    "And what is it you wish to do, Lise?" he asked with a petulant
smile, no doubt expecting something only slightly unorthodox. I'd had
a great many plans over the years.

    "An appointment in the army," I said. "I want to be an officer on
the General Staff."

    "There are no women on the General Staff," he said quickly, unable
to completely suppress his opinion of the idea; I heard the distaste
quite plainly.

    "But there are women in the Reichsheer," I reminded him.
"Eventually there will be female staff officers. Why can't I be the
first?"

    "The Reichsheer is not Das Heer," he reminded me in turn. "Have
you discussed this with your father?"

    "Not yet," I admitted with a deep breath.

    "I'm sure he has his own plans for you," Grandfather said,
attempting to close the subject. "Speak with him first."

    "And you know what he'll say," I retorted, ignoring the dismissal.
"If you arrange the appointment, he won't be able to refuse."

    "A fait accompli? I don't believe the Reich Minister would be
happy with that, Lise."

    "I don't require his happiness," I said and decided upon a
different tact. "You're the only man he respects. He took your name
when he married my mother. You gave it to him...to me, Grandfather. I'm
a Manstein; the army is in my blood. I can feel it!"

    "You can feel it, eh?" He smiled at me and I felt my face turning
pink.

    "For the last hundred and fifty years there has been a von
Manstein on the Prussian General Staff," I said quietly. "Until now.
You've already retired, Herr Generaloberst, will you die without
leaving behind a true heir?"

    "Enough!"

    "Permit me to honor my family name," I finished quickly. "I'll ask
you for nothing more."

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

    "The general doesn't wish to be disturbed." Major Crispin stood
guard, sitting with a book near the closed door of my grandfather's
study.

    "What's he doing?" I asked, pacing helplessly and wringing my
hands like an old woman. I forced myself to stop.

    "I don't know, Lise," he answered gently. "You've caused him great
concern."

    "Do you think so?" I narrowed my eyes at the man, believing his
words and wondering what they meant.

    "He can be very...traditional," Crispin shrugged. "And he's old."

    "Old fashioned, you mean!" I snorted. "I'm not doing this because
I'm a woman."

    "You may believe that..."

    "Because it's true!" I frowned, looking for an argument to ease my
frustration.

    "...but nobody else will," the major continued reasonably. "You're
entirely too beautiful for the army."

    "And immune to flattery, Herr Major!"

    "So I've noticed," he chuckled and I glared at him for a long
moment before I had to smile.

    "When he wishes to be disturbed again...will you please call me?"

    "I'm sure he'll call for you himself," Crispin said and seeing my
annoyance, quickly added, "but, yes. I'll call you immediately, Lise."

    "Thank you."

    I lingered a minute more and finally retired to my rooms, wishing
very much to know what my grandfather might be up to.

    The possibility that he'd called my father was foremost in my mind
and that would ruin everything. I had no desire to remain the model
daughter and play the hostess for my father's tea parties. Nor did I
eagerly anticipate an arranged marriage to further his political
career, which was not unheard of in Party circles. I'd suffered my
Cotillion shortly after my sixteenth birthday, understanding it to be
a prelude to everything I did not desire, and I'd planned my escape
carefully.

    If only my grandfather would help me. My future, for better or
worse, depended entirely upon his good judgment.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Berlin - 1957


    "Heil Hitler," I said, standing stiffly at what I hoped was
attention and extending my right arm.

    "We don't do that in the Bendlerstrasse, Fraulein Speer."

    I almost faltered then. I could feel my knees like gelatin and my
face grew warm, but my arm did not waver and I held the Party salute
for three heartbeats before letting it go. The deliberate slight to my
family name had not gone unnoticed.

    "Yes, Herr General," I said slowly. "I'll remember that in the
future. Thank you."

    "Have a seat," he gestured as he stood behind a large, neat desk.
"Please. Would you care for coffee or tea?"

    "No. Thank you, Herr General." I remained where I stood and forced
my fists to uncurl.

    I felt almost foolish, standing there in my dress and low heels,
with my hair pinned neatly. I'd worn black and white, with a red scarf
loosely knotted about my throat. The Party colors had seemed a good
choice, a safe choice, but now I wished I'd chosen something else.

    Colonel General Model took his seat and he wasn't an imposing man
physically. I'd met him previously, of course, as a child and the
apple of my grandfather's eye, but that's not to say we knew each
other. I looked at him indirectly and saw nothing extraordinary
beneath the field grey uniform, but his abilities were remarkable and
his military competence beyond question. Like my grandfather, who had
strongly recommended Model to succeed him as Chief of the Army General
Staff, the man possessed a rare combination of tactical skill and fine
strategic sense.

    "We adhere to a philosophy, Uberparteilichkeit," he said. "Have
you heard of it?"

    "Yes," I cleared my throat and spoke louder. "I have heard of it."

    "Do you understand it?"

    "I think so, Herr General."

    "The Fuhrer envisioned a National Socialist army," the man said.
"But this could never be. We are protectors of the land and its
people, Fraulein. Not the State. Not the Party or the politicians or
any scrap of paper, but only Germany itself."

    "Yes, Herr General."

    "Do you believe that?"

    "I do," I replied immediately, keeping my eyes fixed a dozen
centimeters above his head.

    He drew a deep breath and let it out as a long sigh and I wished
to give him something, but I didn't know what General Model wanted. I
fought down a surge of panic as the silence seemed grow around us. I
felt his eyes, but I couldn't bear to look at him myself. This had
been a mistake, I decided. How foolish I'd been and my grandfather had
allowed me this humiliation if only to teach me a valuable lesson.

    "Generaloberst von Manstein spoke very highly of you..."

    "Thank you."

    "...as I would expect," the man continued. "But he declined to offer
me advice as to what I should do with you."

    "Sir?"

    "I assume you've had excellent marks in school. Your references
are impeccable, your family ties beyond reproach and yet..." he
shrugged, "...you're a woman. How much simpler would this be if you were
not, eh?"

    "Is the General refusing my application?" I asked, blinking
rapidly as I fought to get the words out.

    "The army is above politics, Fraulein," he said. "But this is a
political decision. You're demanding a change in national policy."

    "The army has changed national policy before," I told him without
thinking and I cringed inwardly, but the general didn't seem to take
offense.

    "True as that may be," he said gently, "in this case, we must
yield to the process of law and abide its decision."

    "I understand, Herr General," I agreed, helpless to do anything
else. "Forgive my intrusion. I know you're very busy and..."

    "It's quite alright," he stood up slowly, generously ignoring my
obvious fluster. "Any excuse to see you once more is hardly a burden,
Lise. Believe me."

    "Thank you," I whispered, turning as gracefully as my pounding
heart would allow and walking across his large office.

    "Be patient," he told me as his adjutant opened the door. I turned
my head, but General Model had already busied himself with more
important matters and said nothing further.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

    "Good evening, Ambassador," I smiled pleasantly as I stood next to
my father.

    "Mademoiselle!" The Frenchman's eyes seemed to devour me. "We have
missed you terribly these past few months. Have we not, my dear?"

    "But of course," his wife replied with somewhat less enthusiasm,
offering me the required courtesies and little else. We didn't care
for each other very much.

    "Madame Truffaut." I dipped my head politely as a photographer
took our picture.

    Whether for the consular archives or tomorrow's social column, I
had no idea. Probably both, I thought as the woman pretended to kiss
me on both cheeks. I did the same, naturally, but I had no intentions
of letting her husband do more than hold my hand. Ambassador Truffaut
was a notorious womanizer, but his embassy did throw the best parties
in Berlin, even better than the glittering festivals sponsored by Herr
Stueben, the Reich Minister of Information.

    As my widowed father's escort at public functions, I had to spend
much of the evening at his elbow, engaging the wives, girlfriends, and
occasionally the mistresses of other important men in the sort of idle
chatter I deplored. Only rarely was I able to interject myself in
meaningful conversation and doing so often entailed the risk of rising
above my ornamental role to my father's pained annoyance.

    I had my moments however.

    "The Polish question must be resolved," Sergey Volinski, the
Russian ambassador, insisted.

    "I tell you frankly, sir," the British Ambassador replied calmly,
"that there is no question."

    After spending five minutes discussing Chanel suits with the wives
of the Russian and British ambassadors, I had to seize the opening.

    "Five million Ukrainians would disagree with you, Lord Smythe," I
interrupted with the best smile I could find.

    "And so too half a million Germans in Danzig, no?" Volinski tilted
his head, toasting me with his glass.

    "Which is a free city guaranteed by the League of Nations,"
Ambassador Smythe recovered, but he had no answer for the Russians and
everyone knew it.

    "If you'll excuse us, gentleman," my father said politely,
pinching my hip and turning us with well-practiced grace.

    "Sorry," I whispered before he could start. "I was bored."

    "Your boredom will start another world war someday," he sighed and
then smiled, even laughed, and that pleased me a great deal.

    "I like the Russian," I said a moment later, watching my father's
face for an opinion, but he was already preoccupied with the aging
General Sperrle, the Minister of Aviation.

    "Lise!" Frau Sperrle, a handsome woman twenty years younger than
her husband, engaged me with a kiss on the cheek. "Wherever did you
find that dress? You look absolutely divine!"

    Later, on the ride home, I put the question directly to my father,
"Will there be a war?"

    "I think so," he nodded.

    "When?"

    "Three years," he shrugged. "Maybe five. It depends on the
Russians."

    "But the Poles could accept the plebiscite," I offered.

    "They won't," my father said.

    "But they could," I smiled at him. "That would solve everything.
Wouldn't it?"

    "Not for us," he sighed.

    "Are you saying Germany will oppose it?" I asked. "How?"

    "We'll demand equal treatment on the Danzig question," my father
explained. "Amend the proposal to include the restoration of Danzig to
the Reich. We also want a national railway and motorway across the
corridor, immunity to Polish inspection...a few other things."

    "They'll never give us any of that," I said with a snort.

    "Precisely," he agreed. "And the Poles don't want a plebiscite
anyway, so..."

    "So we're giving them a good excuse," I nodded. "I get it now,
but..."

    "What?"

    "When Russia finally attacks Poland..." I looked at my father, "...
whose side are we on?"

    "Our side," he said with a chuckle, pulling me close so I could
snuggle against him. "Franz, turn up the heater, will you? It's chilly
back here."

    "Of course, Herr Reich Minister," the driver replied, but he'd
probably turned it up already. It was just another cold night in
Berlin.

    The issue between Poland and Russia went back to a war fought in
1920, when the brand new Polish army had marched some 240 kilometers
into the Ukraine and annexed a sizable piece of land and its
inhabitants. Russia, still reeling from the World War and its own
revolution, could do little but make peace and bide its time.

    Germany had been stripped of land by the despised Treaty of
Versailles, not only to recreate Poland, but to give that nation
access to the sea via the Danzig Corridor. After nearly forty years
the very existence of Poland had become intolerable to Germany and the
day of reckoning would have to come soon. The Polish question was ever
in the heart and mind of the Third Reich and dominated her foreign
policy.

    "If only the Fuhrer hadn't died," I murmured, closing my eyes and
enjoying my father's strong, gentle hand on my hip. "He would have
known what to do."

    "We've always known what to do," he said with a kiss of my hair.

    "Yeah," I sighed sleepily, "but he would have done it."

    "I have no doubt of that," my father agreed and I smiled because
he and Hitler had been friends in the years before I'd been born. I
felt very proud of my father for that reason, and many others as well;
I just didn't show it often enough.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Berlin - 1959


    A tall young man with a hawkish nose and piercing blue eyes
interrupted my lunch.

    "May I sit with you?" he asked and I reached across the table,
gathering my books to make room. "Thank you."

    "Sure." I went back to my reading, biting my pencil and
occasionally underlining significant passages or making notes in the
margins.

    "What are you reading?" he asked after several minutes of watching
me. I'd rather hoped he'd take my disinterest to heart and save us
both the pain of outright rejection, but no.

    "Pardon me?"

    "You seem very interested in that book," he said. "You make the
rest of us look bad."

    "Do I?" I smiled and glanced around the cafeteria. Most of my
fellow students were talking, joking, laughing. They were enjoying a
break from the rigors of university curriculum and in a manner of
speaking, so was I.

    "Goethe? Nietzsche?" He widened his eyes with mock curiosity. "I
have it! Friedrich Von Schiller. Am I right?"

    "Rommel," I told him, holding up the book so he could see for
himself.

    "Infanterie Greift An?" The man looked confused. "Who is Rommel?"

    "Chef der Schnellen Truppen," I answered casually. "This isn't his
best book, but I like it. Have you read Panzern Ost or Gerpanzerten
Vernichtunsgedanke?"

    "Uh, no."

    "Not too many people have," I shrugged. "Even in the army, they're
not quite sure what to make of him."

    "I see."

    "But that's what makes him so exciting, don't you think?" I leaned
forward, smiling into his unhappy face and lowering my voice as if
confiding a great secret. "His revolutionary ideas speak to me."

    "You, Fraulein, are a strange bird," he told me, using the English
expression and I laughed.

    "Everyone seems to think so," I agreed, closing my book with a
sigh and extending my hand. "I'm Lise."

    "Rudolf," he said as our fingers touched. "Perlman."

    "Perlman?" I cocked my head. "You're a Jew?"

    "Half-Jewish," he agreed. "Does that bother you?"

    "Not at all," I lied, removing my hand from his. "What do you
study?"

    "Physics. And you?"

    "Journalism."

    "Really?" Rudolf smiled. "I wouldn't have guessed that."

    "It sounded easy," I said with a self-conscious smile of my own.
"Why? What would you have guessed?"

    "I don't know," he shrugged carelessly. "Economics, maybe."

    "Oh! No thank you," I laughed. "I couldn't imagine anything more
boring."

    "Your father doesn't seem to think so."

    "Ahhh..." I rolled my eyes. "So you already know who I am."

    "I would be foolish not to, I think," he told me seriously, "and I
have no wish to be a fool."

    "You may be disappointed then."

    "How so?"

    "Admittance to the university is one thing," I said, "but we have
not come so far that a Jew...a half-Jew..."

    "Thank you."

    "...can spend his free time seducing Aryan girls," I continued with
a soft laugh so he'd understand I was only teasing, but deadly serious
as well. "You should leave me alone now, Rudolf."

    "We're just talking, Lise."

    "I don't want to see you hurt," I told him. "I need to prepare for
my afternoon classes anyway."

    "Same time tomorrow?"

    "I don't think so," I sighed, rising from my chair and he may have
thought I'd rejected him because of his blood, and perhaps that was
true on some level, but mostly I'd only been telling him the truth.

    Germany had once stood on the edge of a precipice and only slowly,
very painfully did she step back. Jews could work again, go to school,
and even run their own small businesses. But they couldn't vote; they
couldn't teach, speak in the press, or hold positions in government.
The Jew was a second class citizen, much like blacks in America, and
striking up a conversation with the daughter of a high ranking Party
member? We didn't call it lynching in Germany; we called it
Schutzhaft.

=-=-=-=--=-=-=-=-=-=-=

    Brand new, the radio had been a gift from my father's parents in
Heidelberg, and hardly larger than a bread box. I especially liked the
fine reception I could get from France, even as far away as Paris when
the nights were especially clear. It had been rainy though, overcast
with lightning and thunder, so instead of listening to the decadent
music of Jerry Lee Lewis and Carl Perkins, we'd been making love to
the strains of Till Eulenspiegels Lustige Streiche.

    "Umph...Lise...Ummm..."

    "Stop"

    "What?"

    "Stop for a second...Wait..." I gasped, loosing myself from Paul's
arms and getting my legs tangled in the damp sheets.

    "What's wrong?" he asked, smiling as he tried to catch his breath.

    "The music stopped," I said, leaning across him to reach the
radio.

    "So?" Paul chuckled and pulled me down so he could kiss my
breasts.

    "Is it broken?" I wondered, fearing the worst, but after a moment
of empty static there came an announcement.

    "The Reich Broadcasting Company interrupts this program to bring
you live from the Reichstag, the Chancellor's Report on the State of
War-Economic Mobilization."

    "Christ. I wish it was broken," Paul sighed, rolling us over so
that he could hold my tits with both hands.

    "Hmmm..." I arched my back and spread my legs around his hips,
getting comfortable as the man pushed my breasts together. He kissed
my nipples, moving his mouth back and forth between them while I
played with his dark, curling hair. His cock had grown hard once again
and I felt him against my thigh, hot and heavy and sticky with our
juices.

    Part of me tried to listen to the Chancellor's voice and not only
because I'd probably be tested on it the next day in my classes, but I
had a genuine interest in such things. My companion was making that
difficult, however, as he brought my blood to boiling beneath his
tender attentions. We were nearly the same age and came from similar
backgrounds, Paul's father being the Gauleiter of Berlin and a Party
Deputy Secretary. A great many people, including his parents, thought
Paul and I would make a good couple, but we both knew better than
that. Aside from the sex, which was admittedly very nice, we had
little else to share with each other.

    "Let me put it in..." he breathed, pulling my right leg upward as he
positioned the head of his cock at my slick pussy.

    "Yeah," I grunted. "Uh! Like...Ohhh...Yessss..." I hissed softly,
letting out the breath I'd been holding as Paul's erection split my
labia once more. The sensation was a pleasant one and I felt nothing
but the pleasure of being filled completely. He continued to kiss my
nipples, licking and nibbling at the swollen buds, while I stared at
the shadows dancing on the ceiling above us and listened to the
meandering words of the Chancellor.

    "On becoming soldiers we have not ceased to be citizens, for the
citizens of the Third Reich are soldiers. Every father and son, mother
and daughter, brother and sister must shed the bonds of tradition and
stand against the enemies of the Fatherland."

    "What?" I blinked and tried to lift my head.

    "You're amazing," Paul whispered. "So hot inside..."

    "No...What did he just say?" I asked, but all I could hear was the
sound of the Reichstag giving the Chancellor what must have been a
standing ovation.

    "Who cares?" Paul groaned. "Roll over, Lise. I want to do it from
behind again."

    "You're a dog," I laughed, letting him push and pull me onto my
hands and knees.

    "Woof!" he agreed and I put the Chancellor out of my head,
promising myself I'd read the full text of his speech in the morning
newspaper.

    "Ummm..." I rocked my hips, thrusting myself to meet him and I liked
the way Paul held my shoulders. He pulled me hard against his prick,
giving me a delicious grind every few strokes, and that sort of
treatment would soon make me cum.

    When it happened, I dropped my face to the mattress and clutched
the bed sheet in my fists. My body shivered and my sex ached with a
loving cramp, squeezing Paul's cock and coaxing him to quickly join
me. I had vague thoughts of telling him to pull out at the last
minute, but he'd already fucked me once and I was old enough by then
to arrange my own abortion if need be. At nineteen, I no longer relied
upon my father's good sense or his political connections...or so I
thought at the time.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

    "I want to leave the university," I said nervously.

    "Why?" My father narrowed his eyes. "Are you pregnant?"

    "Father!" I frowned at him.

    "What other reason could there be, Lise?" he asked and my
annoyance could not be feigned.

    "You'd ask me that?" I stared at him. "I'm not fourteen anymore,
in case you haven't noticed."

    "And that changes what, precisely?" he wondered, teasing me with a
tilt of his head. "Hmmm? Am I not still your father? Do I not have the
right to expect answers in my own house?"

    "You insult me," I decided, still frowning.

    "You haven't answered the question."

    "No!" I said loudly. "I'm not pregnant."

    "Good," he said with an infuriating smile. "Do you see how easy
that can be?"

    "Stop!" I held up my hand. "I apologize, okay? Herr Reich
Minister? Can we let it go?"

    "Lise!" he laughed. "You have your mother's temper. Come here, my
girl. I'm sorry."

    He held out his arms and I resisted, if only to punish him, but
we'd missed each other. Even though I attended the University of
Berlin and my apartments were less than twenty minutes away, I'd
rarely visited or even called. Of course, my father wouldn't come to
the university either, not without a reason more official than merely
checking up on his only daughter. He tried very hard to keep our
private lives precisely that, more out of respect for me than anything
else, but whenever he stepped foot past the front door he became a
public figure, as did anyone with him.

    "The Chancellor's speech last week," I said slowly. "You wrote it,
didn't you?"

    "The speech?"

    "I mean, those were your initiatives he outlined," I said. "He's
following your advice. Right?"

    "Yes." He released me from his hug, but held my shoulders. "Why?"

    "Opening the Wehrmact to women," I nodded. "That's your idea?"

    "Well, I am the Minister of Economics," my father said with a
smile, as if I'd somehow forgotten. "There will be no conscription, if
that's what you're worried about."

    "And even if there was, I still wouldn't have to worry," I teased.
"Would I?"

    "Probably not," he admitted. "The idea is to reduce compulsory
service by six months and get more men into the civilian workforce. To
do that the military needs some twenty thousand additional recruits
annually."

    "I know," I nodded, having read everything I could find on the
subject already. "And most of those are coming out of the Reichsheer,
but..."

    "The women will fill administrative billets," my father continued.
"Hospital staff, nurses, doctors perhaps, some of them could be
trained for maintenance, I suppose."

    "What about the General Staff?"

    "Staff officers?" he gave me a questioning look. "The army has
proposed that certain billets in corps and army group headquarters be
opened. The Replacement Army will have openings for female staff
officers, but...Why?"

    "I want to join the army," I said. "I want to be on the General
Staff."

    "No."

    "I've asked Grandfather to arrange it," I said, which was a sort
of half-truth.

    My father had no idea I'd already tried going behind his back
nearly two years earlier, only to have my application politely
rejected by General Model himself. But times had changed and my own
father had become the fountain of my golden opportunity. This would be
better, I thought, for in truth I had no desire to see my father
unhappy. All he had to do was agree.

    "He has no right," my father said quite strongly. "You'll call the
general and tell him you've changed your mind."

    "I will not," I replied. "Please, Father. I've always, only wanted
this."

    "You don't know what you want," he snorted. "You've never known.
Now you want to quit the university six months before graduating? And
for what, Lise? You're a woman, act like one!"

    "I'm a citizen of the Reich," I said carefully, not wishing to
provoke him too much. "A soldier, Father. We must shed tradition;
those were the Chancellor's words...Your words, no?"

    "They're only words," he sighed impatiently. "It was a speech.
Politics. You know how these things work."

    "Do I?"

    "Lise..."

    "I've always believed you," I told him. "When I doubted the Party,
I came to you. When I didn't understand something, you would always
explain..."

    "The army is not the place for you."

    "I'm the grandchild of Erich von Manstein, Father," I smiled at
him. "The army is in my blood and I'll shed no tradition, but embrace
it eagerly. Please, I won't embarrass you, I promise. Let me try."

    I wrapped my arms around him and perhaps my argument wasn't fair,
nor even particularly strong, but it was the only one I had.

    "I don't like it," he sighed. "I know nothing of the army."

    "You were the Minister of Armaments for the Fuhrer," I laughed
lightly. "You were like a general."

    "I was the Deputy Minister for Dr. Todt," he corrected me. "I was
the Fuhrer's architect."

    "Hmmm..."

    "And how much happier I was then."

    "Without me to burden you?" I asked and that made him smile.

    "No..." my father took a deep breath, "...you're right. I am happier
now."

    "You'll let me do it?"

    "I'll think about it," he said reluctantly. "I don't like this."

    "Think about how good it will look in the press," I told him
seriously, but I had little doubt my father hadn't already considered
that. We both knew he wanted to be the next Chancellor of the Third
Reich.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Potsdam - 1960


    "Welcome to the Armed Forces Academy. I am your first, and for
some of you, your last commanding officer, Colonel Oskar Rausch. I see
one hundred and ninety-seven men standing here today and I swear to
you, by the gloried regimental standards of the Prussian Army you see
behind me, that when you graduate a year from now, this class will
number less than a hundred."

    I couldn't help but notice that he'd deliberately ignored the
three women standing at attention. The colonel hadn't even included us
in his calculations, and I wondered what that might mean. The other
two females and I had petitioned vigorously for acceptance and while
my family connections had certainly helped, they had not guaranteed me
anything. Graduates from this school were the best and brightest
Germany had to offer; those who were not would be dismissed
immediately and without appeal.

    Gazing upon the colonel and most especially on the flags behind
him, many of which were doubtless stained with French mud and German
blood from the war, I felt a sense of destiny. I won't deny or
apologize, but only say that I felt a certainty in the marrow of my
bones. I'd come to the right place and I would be standing among the
hundred survivors. I swore a silent oath to that effect. By the
gloried standards of the Prussian Army, I would be the worthy
successor to my family name. So help me God.

    "Day dreaming again, Speer?" Captain Westphal's riding crop
snapped sharply across my desk.

    "My name is von Manstein," I reminded him softly. "Sir."

    "Not yet it isn't," he laughed. "We're on the Marne. What do you
see?"

    "The right flank is over-extended," I answered, standing quickly
as we examined a large map; the captain, me, and twenty-four of my
fellow students. "With First Army wheeling to the southeast, the
French Sixth is able to organize an attack from west. Kluck will have
to pull II Corps from the line to protect his reserve..."

    "What should he have done, Speer?"

    "First Army should have stayed west of the Oise and smashed the
four divisions of the French Sixth," I replied and then added with a
smile, "but I think General Kluck should have stayed in Germany."

    "Easy to say forty years later, cadet," the captain's rebuke
accompanied a frosty stare, but he knew the truth of what I said. It
had gotten a good chuckle from my classmates anyway and I needed their
approval as much as I needed my instructor's.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

    "Wha...Umph!" The lights went out as a black bag covered my head,
the cords around my neck suddenly yanked tight and pulling me
backwards.

    "Grab her feet!" A man's voice.

    "Got her!" Another man. "Stop kicking, bitch!"

    "In here!" Three men.

    I fought them as best I could, but without fresh air in my lungs...I
scratched one of the men on the arm, feeling his skin peel away and
the trivial pain of losing a fingernail in the process. That earned me
a punch in the stomach and then another.

    When I awoke, it was to the curious agony of being raped. My sex
felt swollen and bruised, aflame with the startling discomfort of
being torn by the erection inside me. I remember nothing specific;
even at the time it happened, everything seemed dull, my senses
mercifully blunted.

    They had me on the cold tiles of the second floor showers. I could
smell the disinfectant and hear the old steam pipes rattle and creak,
the faint dripping of water. Innocent, meaningless sounds that should
have been drowned out by the urgent panting of the man inside me and
the laughter of his two companions. My own grunts and stifled sobs
added to the confusion, although I hardly realized I'd been crying.
That seemed so odd for some reason, to weep that way, and I took some
comfort in knowing I had no choice.

    They all took their turns and by the end of it I felt too weak to
do anything but lay there.

    "You tell anyone about this," one of them whispered, "and we'll
kill you. Understand, whore?"

    Someone kicked me in the ribs to get a groan in reply and then
they were gone.

    I did tell someone, having little choice as I lay in bed at the
infirmary. The three men in question were not overly bright, having
singularly failed to understand exactly who it was they were raping.
The difficult part would be not letting my father find out what had
happened, but thankfully the army wanted that even less than I.
Surrendering three cadets to the Gestapo and the Volksgericht for
trial would have seriously threatened the Wehrmacht's hard won
political independence.

    Likewise, and quite obviously, the incident couldn't be revealed
to the army at large. Colonel Rausch brought the matter personally to
the commander of the Replacement Army, General Frisch. As I understand
it, he contacted General Model who discussed the incident with General
Balck, the Army Commander in Chief. The real question for the army was
what to tell my grandfather and in the end, General Model left it to
the discretion of the newly promoted Lieutenant Colonel Crispin.

    The former adjutant did not tell General von Manstein anything,
but chose a rather more direct solution.

    "You should be in bed."

    "I've been in bed for two days," I replied before looking over my
shoulder and getting a real surprise. "Crispin? What are you doing
here?"

    "Is that how you greet a senior officer, cadet?" he asked with a
smile and I barely heard him.

    "Oh God," I sighed, pressing myself against his uniform, clutching
at the man as tears welled up in my eyes like a dam bursting.

    "Shhh..." he hugged me tightly and kissed my hair. "You're alright
now, Lise. You're safe now."

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

    "My grandfather sent you?" I asked some while later, once more in
my bed with Crispin sitting in a chair nearby.

    "No," he shook his head. "I haven't told him."

    "Then how..."

    "Generaloberst Model called me," he explained. "I was in Austria."

    "I heard you have your own brigade now," I said with a weak smile.

    "Only a regiment," he shrugged. "Third Mountain Division."

    "How do you like it?"

    "I love it," he said with a chuckle.

    I squeezed his fingers, enjoying the satisfaction in Crispin's
smile, but his eyes were full of pain.

    "Lise," he whispered, leaning close. "I've been ordered to take
care of this...for the army. Do you know what I mean?"

    "Yes."

    "But I have to know..." he paused, stroking my cheek with his
fingertips, "...What do you want?"

    I had to think about that for several minutes and I only felt
numb. "Nothing," I finally breathed and he looked at me for a long
minute.

    "Alright," he nodded and licked his lips. "You should rest now."

    "You're not alone," I said as Crispin stood slowly. "Are you?"

    "No," he answered. "I brought a couple men with me."

    I didn't need to know any more than that and I doubted Crispin
would elaborate in any event.

    The following evening, Cadet Schaeffer was found hanging from the
ceiling in his room. He had long, angry scratches on his left arm
which went unexplained, much like his suicide, for he hadn't bothered
to leave a note behind.

    Two days later, Cadet Polzin suffered a bad fall while apparently
trying to negotiate the barracks fire escape. The young man had been
drinking heavily and either attempting to sneak into or out of his
room after curfew. The doctor who performed the autopsy was of the
opinion that the cadet had probably lived for an hour after snapping
his spine in three places.

    The following day, tragedy struck one last time when Cadet Gehr
accidentally discharged an unauthorized pistol while cleaning it. The
bullet entered his skull through the right eye and death was
instantaneous. Colonel Rausch conducted an immediate and thorough
inspection of all barracks and found several bottles of liquor, an
American Playboy magazine, and other sundry non-regulation items, but
thankfully, no additional weapons.

    It had been a long, dark week for the Armed Forces Academy and
after attending the memorial services for our fallen comrades, all of
us did our best to put the tragic past behind us.

    "It's alright," I breathed, smiling into Crispin's concerned face.
"You can do it a little harder."

    "Are you sure?" he asked and I giggled, pulling his mouth to mine
and lifting my ass off the bed.

    I'd had some small fear in my heart that he wouldn't want to touch
me after what had happened. That the man would find me somehow dirty
and repulsive to his sensibilities, but he'd merely been cautious.
Crispin loved me, in his own fashion, and perhaps I loved him as well,
I couldn't decide. I certainly liked him a great deal and very much
enjoyed the way he made love to me.

    "Ummm...See?" I teased him with my tongue, licking across his open
mouth as Crispin began to thrust himself deeper. "Uhhh-huh! Yeah...
Faster...Like that...Fuck me now..."

    "I am fucking you," he groaned. "Get your legs up."

    "Yes sir," I giggled and my fine spirits threatened to spoil the
mood, but I couldn't help it.

    "Mmmm..." Crispin offered me a contented sigh as my legs went over
his shoulders and he sheathed his prick completely within my clasping
sex.

    "Oh! Yes! Oh! Ahhh! Mmmph!" I gasped loudly into his mouth as he
finally remembered my good advice about kissing me.

    We fucked for a nice, long time that way, with my body bent
beneath his. I felt helpless and vulnerable, impaled upon Crispin's
eager manhood, but I didn't fear it. I didn't suffer the ghosts of
what I'd been forced to endure a week before. I felt completely
healed, both physically and emotionally, and I owed much of my rapid
recovery to him. My lover and protector. My avenging angel.

    "You don't have to stay, Lise," he told me later. "No one will
blame you if you want to leave."

    "No. I can't resign," I replied casually from the bed, watching as
Crispin fixed his tunic. "I'm going to graduate at the top of my
class."

    "Do you think so?" he wondered with a smile and I pouted at his
teasing.

    "Why?" I asked suspiciously. "What have you heard?"

    "Me?" He widened his eyes innocently. "Nothing."

    "Colonel Rausch didn't say anything?"

    "Other than..."

    "Yes," I sighed. "Other than that. He didn't tell you how I'm
doing?"

    "You're doing well," Crispin told me. "He doesn't like to admit
it, but..."

    "He doesn't like me."

    "Not very much," he laughed. "No. The colonel will be happy to see
you gone."

    We were silent for a minute.

    "Thank you," I said and he didn't need to reply to that.

    "I'll tell the general that you're well," Crispin said. "He
worries about you."

    "I should have written a letter for you to carry."

    "Write one," he nodded. "Mail it to him. He'll like that better
anyway."

    "Alright," I agreed with a smile, rising from the bed so I could
kiss him one more time.

    "I have to go."

    "I know," I sighed.

    "You could write to me as well, Lise," the lieutenant colonel
smiled almost shyly. "If you should ever want to."

    "Yes sir," I giggled, snapping to naked attention and offering him
a crisp salute. My nipples had grown stiff again and my sex glistened,
and I could see the desire shining in his eyes. I felt like a child,
silly and carefree and only playing at life.

    "Ahhh..." Crispin laughed and shook his head. "You see? This is why
there are no women on the General Staff."

    "Why?" I wondered happily.

    "Because I look at you, Lise, and I cannot even imagine going to
war," he said, leaving behind that earnest compliment to keep me warm.



=-=-=-=-=-=
end
rache696@yahoo.com

If you have an opinion, expert or otherwise, on the possible history
of the world after the fictional demise of Adolf Hitler on 18 March
1939, I would be very interested to hear it. Don't be shy.  :)  -rr
Manila Jan 29 2010

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Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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