Opposite Sides (59 page)

Hans hardly felt the
needle penetrate the muscle in his thigh.

Caroline faded away. The
bed, the room, the hospital dissolved into a murky background until
his mind slipped into the deep, black void of
unconsciousness.

CHAPTER
19

Captured

“
I think the
pain’s getting to him again.”

A voice broke through his
silence. Then again, but he had no idea of how long it had been
between each episode.

“
We’ll get
that bit out while he’s still a bit groggy.”

“
Major!
Major!” Hans tried to respond.

“
It’s OK,”
said another voice. “It’s all over.”

He tried to open his
eyes, thought he had opened his eyes. The first voice spoke
again.

“
. . . the
rest later. Nurse, we’ll put him over on that one for
now.”

How long he had lain
there, Hans had no idea. What did time matter any more? No more
fighting. For him the war had ended and he was thankful for that.
No more decisions or reports. He would have time, a slow dragging
time waiting for all hostilities to cease. That could still take a
long time, maybe years. He opened his eyes and moved his head so
that he could look around. The area was filled with men, bandaged,
each one lying on light army camp beds, their lower bodies covered
only by one of the thin, grey army-issue blankets. He seemed to be
the only German in the tent for he noticed that his bed had been
put on its own to one side. A sentry stood guard on his right, only
an arm’s length from the foot of his bed.

Maybe they
think I’ll try to escape
, he thought. He
tried to laugh but it hurt too much. He was not sure whether it was
his old leg wound or his shoulder. He attempted to move away from
the pain but the stab in his shoulder indicated that that was where
most of the pain was. He fell back on to the pillow.
Not like this, I can’t
.

Hans resigned himself to
his situation and screwed his eyes closed again as the pain bit
into his shoulder again. The healing process would take its own
time, fluctuating between a deep burning deep into his shoulder
blade to a racking, throbbing pain which overwhelmed him and
brought out beads of sweat over his forehead and chest. Such was
his state, when the voice of a nurse brought him back to
consciousness.

“
Where am
I?”

When he tried to move,
his left shoulder hurt too much and he fell limply back on to the
pillow, his eyes closed again as the pain drove deep inside him
making him feel hot and nauseas.

“
Don’t move!
Stay as you were. Here, would you like some water?”

He blinked several times
to make sure he was not hallucinating, then re-opened his eyes and,
finally forcing himself to focus, he found himself looking upward
into the smiling face of the British nurse bending over him. She
wore glasses. They had been pushed back up the bridge of her nose,
firmly resting against her brow. He only knew two women who did
that.

“
Jan?”

The nurse held the mug to
his lips and he sipped the deliciously sweet liquid. He had never
known water to be so refreshing, so good. His body began to
regulate itself and the sickening, hot feeling began to subside. He
was able to focus better. He made a mental note of the uniform.
Auxiliary Territorial Services, small white nurse’s head-scarf.
Very tidy. It really was Jan Turner standing there.

“
I saw the
list of the German wounded newly come in . . . and there was your
name. Took some time to find you. You didn’t seem to be in the
large ward with the others.” She saw his bandage. “Shoulder, is
it?”

He did not answer. She
stood close to his bed looking down at him. “Lucky for you, it
missed your lung.”

He nodded as he forced
himself to speak but his words seemed hushed and far
away.

“
What a way
to meet, Nurse.”

“
Yes,” she
answered, offering him another mug of water. “Can’t seem to get
away from each other, can we?” She laughed at the idea. He refused
the second drink. “You’re in an Allied military hospital. You’ve
been brought here. We’re way behind the lines. This part’s normally
reserved just for our ranks but we’re rather full at the moment.
We’ve had to squash men in where we could; pack them in as tightly
as the beds would allow. Some are still outside on
stretchers.”

“
What, your
men or ours?”

“
Yours, of
course! Our men come first around here!”

Still the
same Jan Turner
, he thought.
Always quick with her answers and always ready to
get a dig in
. But somehow it didn’t bother
him any more. It just felt so natural.

“
What happens
now?”

“
As soon as
you’re well enough, they’ll post you off. Just like a parcel. You
will be sent you to one of our holding camps.”

“
I
see.”

The way he was feeling,
he didn’t really care what happened.

So, the
tables have
turned, he thought.
Now I am the prisoner.

Jan’s voice penetrated
through his thoughts.

“
. . . and
now you’re under my charge and I tell
you
what you can or can’t
do!”

He could not help
noticing the look of triumph in the eyes behind the lenses. He was
unable to fathom out whether it was because he was the captive or
whether Jan Turner had entered his life again. Which ever it was,
he felt too weak to discuss it in depth.

“
Looks like
it’s all over for me,” he commented. No more fighting. No more
obligation in this battle.”

Jan’s eyes immediately
softened. She leaned close over him and drew the sheet closer
around his chest. “I’m glad, Hans. Really, I am.”

A frown crossed his brow.
He didn’t know how to interpret her compassion.

“
Glad? Why
because I am hurt or because you have won and I’m under your
control?”

“
No, not at
all. You’ve got it all wrong again, Hans Resmel. I’m glad . . .
because . . . ” She felt unsure of how to tell him. She could not
divulge the truth about her feelings, not with the listening ears
of the guard nearby. It was not safe to be seen fraternising too
much with the enemy, whoever the enemy might be. She tucked in the
sheet over and over, lowering her voice so that her words would
only be audible to Hans. “I am glad you are alive. That’s
all.”

“
Are you
sure? The way I feel, Jan, it won’t be for long.”

She stood up again and
checked his bandage. She had already stayed too long with this
patient.

“
Nonsense!
You lost quite a lot of blood and you’re just feeling weak. But
you’ll be fine. Before you can say ‘Jack Robinson,, you’ll be on
the mend.”

For the next five minutes
she checked the man in the next bed. He lay there without moving,
his hands and most of his face under the white covering of
bandages. Hans guessed that he had received burns. Maybe from an
aircraft or tank. They were the ones who got badly
burnt.

Jan returned. She popped
a thermometer in his mouth.

“
I will write
and tell my Aunt you’re fine. She’ll be pleased. And I’m sure
someone else will be, too.” A puzzled look came over his face.
“Andrea,” she continued. “You know, your daughter. Or have you
forgotten you have one?”

She paused to see what
his reaction was but with a thermometer stuck under his tongue all
he could do was look at her and gag. Jan was taking his pulse. He
found himself enjoying the touch of her fingers.

He attempted to
speak.

“
I . . . I .
. .” The rest stuck in the back of his throat and he thought he
would vomit the thermometer out.

“
You’re safe
now. Out of danger. I’m sure that’s good news. At least for Aunty
and Andrea.”

He didn’t think she
sounded totally convincing, for as she had spoken those last words,
she took out the thermometer and diverted her eyes away from him.
It all seemed too contrived to him. He wondered what it was she was
trying to hide. Knowing how tight-lipped Jan could be, he decided
to lead the conversation back to his injury and capture.

“
Will they
have to operate?” he asked.

She removed her fingers
from his wrist and wrote the information on the sheet.

“
You’ll live.
The medics gave you a shot of morphine for the pain and our doctors
have already managed to remove the shrapnel. Now that the
morphine’s wearing off, you feel worse but that’s normal. In the
meantime, we’ll keep an eye on you to make sure sure the wound
doesn’t become infected. Looks good so far. You’re not the only
ones to have good doctors. We’ve also got excellent doctors and
nurses, you know.”

Hans smiled weakly. Jan
patted his hand that was laying on top of the bed sheet. She gave
him a quick smile and then turned away. He lay watching her wind
her way slowly between the beds until she had moved so far away
from him that her figure dissolved into a sea of blurred shapes and
grey canvas walls.

The stitches in his
shoulder began to bite into his flesh. His raw wound felt as if it
had been through the mangle and had been squeezed and pulled in
every conceivable direction. All he was capable of doing was to lie
still on the narrow bed and let the days pass by. Slowly ticking
off each boring hour after the other until he lost awareness of
time and had no idea what day it was.

At the far end from where
he had been put he noticed three other beds containing Wehrmacht
officers but they were too far apart for any conversation. One of
the officers had briefly acknowledged Hans with a subdued wave of
the hand. A guard was never far away so that it was most evident
that these captured men were regarded as being potentially
dangerous.

As the healing began, all
his energy focussed inwards so that for long periods all he was
sleep. He had been given another dose of morphine for the pain and
that kept him comatosed for most of the night and through the
following day. His only awareness was at meal time when he
struggled to eat or during the intermittent interruptions when
someone opened his mouth and pushed a thermometer between his lips.
Everything else passed in a blur.

As the morphine was
reduced, the throbbing returned and even though it was not as bad
as before, he still found there were periods when the pain was
still strong. But things were improving and he began to realise
that he would not be kept in the hospital for many more
weeks.

His face brightened when
Jan came near, for he could ask her things he dared not ask the
other nurses. Jan had come to take the early morning temperatures.
She always made sure that his was the last bed she visited so that
there were a few snatched minutes during which they could
talk.

“
How much
longer?” He pushed himself more upright. “Have you any idea when
they’ll move me?”

“
I’m not
sure.” She checked his progress sheet that was hanging on the foot
of his bed.

“
Until then
will you be my own personal nurse?” He was brighter and had asked
the question in a cheeky way. He raised his right eyebrow and made
some attempt to incline his head towards her. She did not take the
bait but answered him with a volume that could easily be heard
several metres away.

“
Sorry, Major
but I’m assigned to this section to cater for all the men on this
ward. You’ll have to just lie there and take what’s dished
out.”

He noticed the interest
of the guard. The man had walked a few paces closer towards the end
of Hans’ bed. Hans spoke so that the man could hear.

“
No
complaints so far with this nurse. Better looking than the medics
who picked me up.”

He tried to laugh a
little but any movement aggravated the wound. He still found it
painful to talk very much but he wanted desperately to keep the
contact going between them. Jan replaced his note board and went
round the side of his bed away from the guard. She smoothed her
hands down over her uniform until, reaching the same height as his
camp-bed, rested her hand on the edge. Hans slid his hand down
until his hand made contact with hers. Instantly she drew
away.

The guard remained
watching. Hans could tell by his posture that he was unsure about
what was going on. Hans gave the man a solemn look and then turned
his attention back to Jan. He spoke so that the guard could
hear.

“
Nurse,
before you do go, could you find out how the other wounded men from
my unit are? Some were badly injured, far worse than I was. You
see, I was responsible for them so I’d be really grateful for any
information.”

He reached his good arm
as far as possible and managed to touch the side of her
tunic.

“
No promises,
Major. Any sensitive information is off limits. There is a war on,
you know.” She faced away from the inquisitive guard and spoke
little above a whisper. “I owe you one, Hans. Remember the time
when you put your neck out to help me? I’ll see what I can do..”
She raised the level of her voice again and made sure the guard
could see her face. “Get some rest, Major. And stop talking. You
can practise your English another time. That’s an order,
sir!”