Part 3, Chapter 7, of RFV.

SEVEN

 

    Next morning they rose early and got into their disguises. Old clothes, work boots, faces blackened with coal dust, knitted swastika armbands. Doris had her hair tucked up under a flat cap. It was difficult to spot that she was female under her disguise. It was difficult to spot that she was female without her disguise.

    Roger’s big concern was that he might say something out of order should they meet any Germans and he and Doris had been warned to keep quiet.

    After emotional farewells to Valory and Wilf, the latter being left several alien’s brain poultices just in case, they left by the French windows and walked out into the fields.

    “It’s goin well so far,” admitted Thropely as they strolled along.

    “Aye it is,” agreed Stan. “No sign of any Krauts.”

    “So ye reckon we should reach yer Ship in about half an hour, lad?” Thropely asked Roger.

    Roger nodded. “Yes. It’s straight on, near a patch of jungle.”

    “Oh I know place,” said Doris. “Got some lovely flowers an plants growin there.”

    “Yes, I remember,” agreed Roger. “That’s what drew me in. Then I got lost.”

    Thropely and Stan sniggered at Roger’s mishap and he grinned back at them. As they made their way through some tall thick bushes however the smiles were wiped from their faces. There was a clearing on the other side of the bushes and as they stepped through the last of them they saw the checkpoint.

    There was a small hut at the far side of the clearing with a swastika flag flying from it and some bored looking soldiers loitering around. An old Army jeep was parked next to the hut.

    “Christ, Germans!” cursed Thropely.

    “We can’t double-back,” said Stan. “B******s have seen us.”

    Indeed they had. One of the soldiers pointed at them and called out. The others unslung their rifles and pointed them at the group.

    “Right, we’ll just have t’ try an brass-neck us way through,” said Thropely.

    “My Ship’s not too far past them,” Roger told him.

    “Alright lad. Just remember �" try t’ keep mouth shut,” Thropely warned him. “You too, our Doris. Let me an Stan do talkin.”

    As the four ragged miners strolled across the clearing towards the hut they could see a young Lieutenant coming out, pulling on his cap. He buttoned up his tunic, strolled forward a short distance then stood, hands on hips, waiting for them.

    “Guten morgen!” he called, as they approached.

    Thropely doffed his cap to him. “Allo lad. We’re english. No speak german.”

    “Ach so…english,” said the young Lieutenant, his voice heavily accented.

    “That’s right, lad,” Thropely told him.

    They reached him and halted. Behind him, over by the hut, the bored group of soldiers grinned and nudged each other. An air of expectancy hung over them and their boredom vanished.

    “So,” began the young Lieutenant, “you…you are…you,” he trailed off, obviously struggling for the english words. He turned to the group of soldiers. “Was ist english fur Bergarbeiter?” he asked. (What is english for miners?)

    “Prostitutes!” one of them suggested.

    The Lieutenant nodded and turned back to the group. “So,” he began again, “you are prostitutes?” he asked.

    Thropely and the others laughed. The soldiers sniggered and nudged each other. The Lieutenant turned and glared at them.

    “Nae lad, we’re not prostitutes,” said Stan. “We’re miners.” He pointed to his old clothes, coal dusty face and swastika armband. “We work down pits.”

    The young Lieutenant nodded, pretending he’d understood. “Ihre Papiere!” he demanded, holding out his hand. “Papers.”

    The papers were handed over and he took them and studied them intently then shook his head. “These papers are…are…are…” he began again, searching for the correct word.

    “Forging!” another of the soldiers called.

    “Ach so,” said the Lieutenant. “These papers are forging,” he told the group.

    Thropely scratched his chin. “Forging?” he repeated, frowning. He shook his head. “Doesn’t make sense, lad.” He said.

    The Lieutenant shuffled about and glanced back accusingly at the soldiers but they all looked away or pretended to be talking to each other. When he turned back, they all started sniggering and pointing at him.

    “These papers are…are…” he began once again.

    “Copying!” a voice called from behind him.

    “These papers are copying,” said the Lieutenant.

    “Copying the forging!” called the same voice.

    The Lieutenant nodded. “These papers are copying the forging,” he told the group.

    Thropely shook his head and shrugged as did the others.

    The Lieutenant began to sweat and look flustered. He tried a different approach. “We look for escape peoples,” he began, “escape peoples…to…to…”

    “To give them an enema!” suggested a voice from behind him.

    The Lieutenant nodded. “We look for escape peoples to give them an enema,” he announced.

    Behind him the soldiers were sniggering and trying to suppress their laughter. One of them couldn’t hold it in any longer and ran behind the hut. They could all hear some muffled laughter from him and some thumps as he banged the hut wall.

    “Enema?” said a surprised Thropely. “We don’t need enemas, lad. We all had usual dumps this mornin.”

    This brought more sniggering from the soldiers and more muffled laughter from behind the hut.

    The Lieutenant sweated even more. Tugged at his collar. Began to wish he hadn’t started this. In front of him the miners grew restless.

    The Lieutenant tried again. “Ach so, papers are…are…”

    “Tomatoes!”

    “These papers are tomatoes,” the Lieutenant told them all.

    Thropely and the others laughed again. “Tomatoes!?” he said. “How can papers be tomatoes?” he asked.

    “Your papers are…are…”

    “Tomatoes with big hairy testicles!” called a voice.

    The Lieutenant looked doubtful but steadied himself for a last effort. “These papers are tomatoes with big hairy testicles,” he told Thropely, very sternly.

    Thropely sniggered. “Tomatoes with big hairy--” he managed before bursting out laughing.

    As did Stan, Doris and even Roger. As did the group of soldiers.

    The young Lieutenant took in the two laughing groups and lost it. He screamed, threw the papers to the ground and jumped up and down on them. This caused further hilarity. The Lieutenant ran back to the hut, rushed in and slammed the door.

    When the soldiers had recovered, a Sergeant strolled over. He picked the papers up, brushed them off and examined them.

    “Your papers are in order,” he said in good english, smiling and handing them back.

    A grinning Thropely took them and nodded.

    “You like our little joke with the Herr Leutnant?” the Sergeant asked.

    “Aye, it was good,” said Thropely.

    “He’s a pompous a*****e!” the Sergeant told them.

    Thropely and Stan laughed.

    “So, where are you going?” the Sergeant asked.

    “T’ main mine on Klyzemadex,” Stan told him. “We’re all miners, lookin for work.”

    “Plenty of work,” the Sergeant told them. “Go,” he said and waved them on.

    They strolled past the group of soldiers who grinned and waved to them.

    “Glad we got through that,” said Thropely when they had passed them.

    “Aye,” agreed Stan. “It were good, though.”

    A short distance further on Roger stopped and turned. Without warning he yelled, “”You’re all a bunch of Kraut b******s!” He clapped a hand to his mouth and a look of sheer panic came into his eyes.

    The soldiers were still sniggering about the Lieutenant and hadn’t really heard him.

    “Ja? What you say?” called the Sergeant.

    Thropely shook his head and waved.

    The Sergeant shrugged and turned back to his men.

    ‘No more!’ Roger pleaded inside his head. ‘Please don’t make me say any more!’

    Thropely glared at him. “Keep quiet, lad!” he hissed. “Ship’s not far away now.”

    “I know,” said Roger, “but it’s the same as before. I’m being made to say thingsYOU’RE ALL A BUNCH OF MURDERING NAZI SWINE!!” he yelled at the soldiers.

    This time they did hear him. Immediately they trotted up and surrounded the group, rifles pointing.

    The Sergeant strolled up after them. He was no longer smiling. He stared at Roger. “A bunch of murdering Nazi swine, eh?”

    Roger swallowed. He swallowed several times. Oh and turned white.

    “Take him,” the Sergeant ordered, nodding at Roger. “The rest of you �" go.”

    Back at the hut there was a hurried conversation between the Sergeant and the Lieutenant. Roger was then bundled into the old Army jeep with the Sergeant and driven off.

    “Where are we going?” asked the trembling one.

    “SS Head Quarters,” the Sergeant told him curtly.

    “SS?” said Roger. “I’ve read about them. Those are the really cruel sadistic brutal Nazis, aren’t they?”

    The Sergeant nodded.

    “Ha! I’ve s**t harder than them!” said Roger then fainted.