FanFic100: #062 Spring
“Boss?” He turns around towards Sergeant Baddon, glad that there are no other officers in the direct vicinity. Now that they aren’t deep in the forests in Belgium anymore it wouldn’t do good if officers not privy to the hardships he has undergone with his men saw the familiarity between them and him.
“What is it, Sergeant?” Baddon tries to look unfazed but the uncommon paleness and the trembling hands tell him differently. He already regrets having him sent up the Ettersberg.
“It’s… the Miss, sir. Guess she’s taking it pretty hard.” That would be a first. During the last couple of months, Laura Cadman had surprised him again and again with what she was able to endure. Granted, sometimes he had a hard time keeping her from seeing the really bad things without her actually noticing it, but overall… she proved to be not half as much a nuisance as he thought when he met her for the first time.
He sighs. “Where is she?” Baddon turns around; jerking his head towards the jeep he drove their Scribble up the hill to Buchenwald in.
“Behind the Old Girl. It’s… not a pretty sight, sir.” He isn’t quite sure if the Sergeant is referring to the mess Laura Cadman obviously is or to the things that have happened up that hill.
“I’ll take care of it, Bill. Go get yourself something to drink.” The Sergeant just nods, mindful of the unspoken order to return at least half sober to duty tomorrow morning, and he claps him on the shoulder before walking around the jeep.
There she sits on the ground at one of the hind wheels, her knees drawn up to her chest, her arms around them, her forehead on her knees. Beside the front passenger door there’s a mess of… something he thinks used to be this morning’s breakfast. He crouches down in front of her, silent for a moment. He can’t hear sobs and doesn’t see her shaking and quite frankly that worries him.
A little tentatively, he reaches out and lightly touches - nearly strokes - her shoulder. She looks up, with dry eyes and a confused look on her face. Then she seems to recognize him and he simply holds up his canteen. Still as if in a daze, she grabs it slowly and takes a few sips from it.
Her eyes clear up a little more and he takes a deep breath and says, “Told you not to go up there, Scribble.” Indeed he had. Two days ago, General Patton and his press entourage were already up on the Ettersberg to see with their own eyes how effective the Reich was in organizing genocide. Laura could have stayed down with the company, in their cozy little field camp just out of Weimar and celebrated the liberation of a concentration camp with them, but no, she just had to act on her stupid journalistic instinct to see everything with her own eyes.
She blinks and swallows, before saying in a low and raspy voice, “They said they didn’t know, Tankie. They said they didn’t know.”
“Who said that?” Her gaze is slightly unfocused and he feels the impulse to pat her cheek or squeeze her hand to make her focus on him and not on the things that she saw up there.
“The… the people here. All those Krauts.” She shakes her head, disbelieving. The crouching position he’s in starts to become a tad uncomfortable but he doesn’t dare moving… although he has a hard time fighting off the urge to simply put his arms around her and hug her so tightly to him that she stops thinking about mass murder and collective denial. “They say they didn’t know what was happening right in front of them.”
Her eyes are large now, and her breathing becomes erratic… almost like she’s going to be sick again. And yeah, suddenly she jumps up, and walks a few steps before it’s too strong and she can’t keep it in anymore. Without a word, he walks over to her and gently puts his hand in her neck to hold back her hair. After a few more dry-heaves she straightens up and wordlessly accepts his canteen a second time. She doesn’t only drink a little but also spills a part of the contents over her head and hands… as if she wants to wash away something.
He takes a deep breath again. “Hate to say it again, Scribble, but… you really should have stayed down here.” Or he should have gone up with her. Dammit, he shouldn’t have let Baddon and Laura drive up there all alone. It was his fucking responsibility, no matter in how much disarray the company was or how many people wanted to talk to Major Lorne or how much she insisted on going alone.
“How could I? Look, the world needs to see this! It’s my job to show them…” She raises her voice, becomes really worked up and out of an impulse he puts his hands on her shoulders and looks her in the eyes.
“Scribble!” She wants to start to talking again, but he knows he has to calm her down because she’d never forgive him if he let her turn hysterical in front of half the company now. “Laura, listen!” Calling her by her first name effectively shuts her up because it’s something he only rarely did in the past months. “No one would have thought less of you if you hadn’t gone up there.” She just shakes her head and her eyes become moist. He’s so glad about it that he can’t hold back saying, “I wouldn’t have thought less of you if you’d stayed here. I would have… I would have gone to Miss Bourke-White and asked her… I would…” I would have gone up there for you and told you there was nothing of any interest for you, just to keep you from seeing it yourself.
“You don’t understand. I came here to show the folks back home what’s happening here. And then those Krauts tell me they didn’t know what was happening up there.” Tears have started to run down her cheeks, making their way through the trademark smudges of dirt, but she doesn’t pay them any attention. She just keeps on talking. “They tell me they didn’t know they were starving the people up there and beating them and systematically killing them and… God, Tankie, be glad you didn’t see the barracks and the… and the…” It’s too much for him.
He engulfs her in a hug, partly to shut her up and partly to keep her from literally falling apart. He doesn’t care that his men are throwing them strange looks because let’s face it: For his men, the “Miss” was the boss’s girl anyway ever since the first week in the Ardennes, no matter how much she flirted with his Lieutenants and how much they clashed over all kinds of things and no matter how much he denied it to everyone daring to allude to it.
In his arms, Laura is finally letting the horror drain away from her, at least for this moment and he can’t help bending down and murmuring, “It’s gonna be okay, Laura.” over and over again.
After a few minutes, though, she looks up, her face tearstained and her eyes suddenly looking very old and… hard. “No,” she says, “it’s not gonna be okay. Not in a hundred years. Not for the Germans… and not for us. They did it… but we let it happen. And that’s why we have to see it.” Almost gently, she loosens his arms around her and steps back from him. “I think… I’m gonna see and try if I can reach my editors back home. You know how worried these mother hens become when I don’t call in every two hours or something.”
With that, she turns around, furiously wiping her face, not looking back. But he doesn’t believe it for a second that she’s already over everything. And he still has something to say. He takes a few strides towards her and says, “Scribble… for what it’s worth: I’m sorry I didn’t come with you.”
She turns to him, a slight smile on her tear- and dirt stained face. “Don’t be, Tankie. I would be sorry if you did.” So that’s why she refused his offer to accompany her. She knew what was awaiting her… he can’t believe his little Scribble thought she had to protect him. Something of his astonishment and emotion must have shown because she hurries to add, “So… want to help me find a decent phone or telegraph line home? You’re always good to scare off anyone nosing around while I’m making my calls.”
Just for good measure, he decides to play along and his little laugh even sounds half credible. “Whoa, you finally admitted that I’m good for something.” They wander off, through dirt and debris and rows of tanks, talking and even laughing, and he really wishes it wasn’t just there to chase off the Buchenwald ghosts that will forever be haunting her from now on. He also realizes that he wishes… that he could be the one she allows to keep the ghosts at least at arm’s length away. And maybe, given a little time…
~*~
TBC in Scratching at the Surface.