Frau Schmitz

Source

Her name was Liesl, Liesl Schmitz née Baumgartner, she was 27, a widow, and she looked ridiculous in the oversized helmet and greatcoat she was wearing. Krafft didn't care, something about her had struck him to the very core of his being.

He had been with a small detachment of troops at the village water source, filling the company's canteens when he first saw her. She looked nondescript in her old clothes and shawl as she and a few other women were there for the same purpose as the soldiers. He had called over to her to let her know that the detachment would soon be out of their way and she had looked up.

Her eyes were incredible, blue with a hint of gray, and they sparkled with good humor and life. Incredible given the situation she found herself in. He had stood there, staring at her.

"So, Stabsfeldwebel, was there something else you wanted to say, or have you lost the ability to speak?"

"No, no, ma'am, I'm just, it's just that ..."

His embarrassment was interrupted by one of the men saying, "We're done here, Herr Stabsfeldwebel, should we return to the bivouac or ...?"

"Yes, yes Hans, take the canteens back, I'll be along shortly. I'm sorry Fraulein, I didn't mean to stare."

"It's Frau, Frau Schmitz."

"Ah, is your husband in the Army?"

"He was ..." she stated flatly.

Krafft realized then and there just how stupid his question was, her answer told him volumes.

"Where did he fall?"

"Fall? He was killed Stabsfeldwebel, he didn't fall, the Russians killed him at Stalingrad. At least that's what the Army told me. I am a widow, no children. You?"

Krafft thought for a moment of his Helga, dark hair and eyes, always laughing. Until the bombs fell, he supposed.

"Widower, my wife died in an RAF bombing, as have so many more."

"Dying. It's something we Germans are getting very good at." With that she turned on her heel and left him standing there, dumbfounded and smitten.

Three days later he had run into her again, she apologized for her abruptness at the well. He asked her if she was hungry, he would be willing to share his rations with her.

"It isn't much, gnädige Frau, Army bread and sausage both of which taste like it's made partially of sawdust."

She laughed and Dieter Krafft now felt that he had something to live for.

"Call me Liesl, you are?"

"Dieter, Dieter Krafft. A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

She smiled again and Krafft realized that he had fallen for this woman mit Haut und Haaren¹.

They had met several more times before von Zitzewitz decided that they should move out and head for the Seelow Heights. On the last occasion they had been intimate and he had asked her to leave with him.

"Where are you going?"

"The Seelow, the last good defensive position before Berlin."

"And what will I do there?" She seemed hesitant.

"If you stay here, you might want to learn to speak Russian." He had been blunt.

"I doubt they'll want to talk. What will your Leutnant say?"

"I don't know, schatzi,² and honestly, I really don't care."

She looked at him for a moment, then said, "Very well."

He had acquired a helmet and greatcoat for her, nowhere near her size, but better than nothing. She had grinned when she put it on and asked if she should have a rifle as well.

"Do you want one?"

She had looked into the far distance, as if she had left the present and was somewhere else, then she had shaken herself and said, "Yes, I want a rifle."

The entire company seemed to have adopted Frau Schmitz, in part because she had made Krafft much more easy to get along with. But also because for most of the men, she reminded them of home and simpler times. Her beauty and easy-going nature didn't hurt. By the second day on the Seelow Heights von Zitzewitz had remarked that even had he wished to be rid of her, the company would mutiny.

"But what happens to her when Ivan attacks? You do know that that's inevitable, ja?"

"I don't know Herr Leutnant, she had no one in her village, she has no one in this world. Her husband dead, her parents dead, killed in Berlin by the RAF, her husband's parents died before the war in a train accident. She knows the dangers and she would rather die with us than live alone in this world."

"Who says we're going to die?" von Zitzewitz asked, in all seriousness.

"Ah, so you have plans for after the war, Herr Leutnant?"

Von Zitzewitz turned red, "Well, no, but how do you know we will be killed?"

"I don't know for certain, Sir. All I know is that I will enjoy what little time I have left. When the Russians come, then we roll the dice. Beyond that?"

Von Zitzewitz, for the first time in his young life, realized that surviving the war wasn't entirely within his control, perhaps not at all.

¹ With skin and hair - The expression "with skin and hair" means complete, entire, or with one's entire personality. It is often used to describe devoting oneself to something with passion, embracing it completely, or engaging with it intensely.

² Darling.