May 2, 1945
Leni had been in the basement a long time. She thought this might be the seventh or eighth night. Maybe, she thought, maybe the battle would end soon. She lived with her mother in the center of Berlin in an old, empire style apartment near the large park called the Tiergarten. Her father, even though too old for war, had been drafted by the Volksturm, the militia. She hadn't seen him in several weeks. The basement shook with every explosion in the street outside. Dust fell from the rafters over the dozens of people crouched around her, their jaws clenched together, eyes bugging out from the constant terror. There was no electricity, no water. Only nineteen, Leni despised the war.
"You are beautiful," the wounded boy soldier beside her said. Leni sighed, thinking of the dress she'd planned to wear at her graduation from school in June. Then she thought of Hans, remembering again the night of the autumn track meet. A strong girl, she'd won several events. Hans had been there, home on leave. They made love that evening in the park, the first time. "After the war is over," Hans told her confidently, "we'll get married."
Now, she realized, her life might end soon, with the old, the very young, and girls like herself packed like sardines, sweating in the heat. All the boys and men had been called to war.
Old Vati Emile, the building concierge and scrounger, had so far kept them from starving. The previous day the food had run out. He warned everyone not to drink the dirty water seeping up through the basement floor. Leni had rarely been able to remove her high topped leather shoes because of it. When the shelling had stopped for a time Vati took Leni, her friend Erica and another old man out in the gray, smoking haze amongst the fires and rubble to look for food and water. The Fuhrer, a passing soldier told them, had died the previous day fighting at his post in his bunker near the Reich Chancellery. That meant the Russians were close, just a few kilometers away. Vati filled their buckets from the water bottles of dead soldiers he found in wrecked vehicles near the Kurfurstendamm. They found no food.
On the way back, close to the basement door, they came upon the boy soldier in the street. "Hilfe, hilfe--help, help," he cried, beseeching them. He looked 14. After delivering the water, Vati decided they must go back for the boy. Leni, tall and slim, did most of the work. The boy's legs were broken. He passed out from the pain of being moved. He screamed again when they tried to immobilize his legs. Vati shared with the boy most of the flask of Kirschwasser he'd found in the wrecked vehicles.
"You are beautiful," the boy whispered again. Leni began quietly singing old nursery songs into his ears. The boy smiled. Soon he fell asleep. Leni lived on adrenaline now, like those around her--adrenaline and a sip of stale water every hour or so. How long could it keep on?
Her gray haired mother's gold timepiece said six am when the firing began to stop. In shock, they all sat dumbly, huddled together. Was this just another pause like the previous morning? Was it over? They had no tears for Hitler or the regime but now what would become of them? The Russians had promised to be barbaric.
As the eerie silence continued, Leni suddenly heard herself breathe again. She coughed in the dust. Her heart skipped when the steel door at the entrance to the basement clanged ferociously as a submachine gun chewed at its bolt. Kicked open, a Russian soldier stood in the gray light of the destroyed street, the barrel of his gun still smoking. He shouted in Russian. No one moved. Other soldiers ran down the steps, physically dragging Vati and the others out. Obediently, Leni took one last look at the boy soldier and followed. At the top of the steps she thought to button the collar of her dress and roll down her sleeves the soldiers stared at her so. Her high topped leather shoes made her feet ache. All the soldiers shouted now, pumping their hands in the air. Vati understood. He raised his hands shakily above his head. Leni, her mother, all the others did the same. Pushing them into a line before the rubble, the soldiers began thrusting their hands into the survivor's pockets, looking for weapons, money or valuables. Her mother's timepiece was taken. Several soldiers squeezed Leni's breasts, thrust forward by her upraised arms. Tears began to trickle down her face. Short, prettily plump Erica tried to hide behind Leni but was roughly pulled forward and groped.
Guns at the ready, several Russians cautiously descended into the basement. Leni heard them laughing as they found the boy soldier. A short series of very loud explosions followed as they shot him. The guns made a huge noise in that enclosed space.
Standing there waiting, so many were crying with pain, exhaustion and fear Leni could not stop her tears. After awhile, an open flat bed truck came down the street. Half a dozen young women sat on the back, hands resting on top of their heads. Roughly Leni, Erica and some other girls were grabbed by their arms and pulled over to the truck as it came to a stop. Her mother ran forward to grab Leni around the waist, screaming hysterically at the Russians. A Russian shoved her mother back into line with the barrel of his gun.
Both were made to sit on the hard steel of the flatbed like the other girls, hands on their heads. Leni's still unbuttoned sleeves fell down to reveal fully the golden skin of her arms, the down on her forearms. She felt naked as the soldiers stared at her. As the truck lurched slowly along the debris strewn streets a burst of firing sounded around a corner, then the bang of a hand grenade. German troops trapped in an old brick school were firing off their last ammunition before surrendering. The girls dropped flat as the truck slammed into reverse. Leni saw Erica take advantage of the distraction. Her small body leapt off the open side of the flat bed, dark hair flying behind her, elbows and knees desperately pumping as she tried to escape. One of the Russians hanging on to the rear of the truck went after her. Holding his rifle in one hand, with his long strides he soon caught up to her. Dragged back to the flatbed, she was stripped naked. Hogtied, wrists to ankles, Erica was tossed back up on the truck. Overcome by a now desperate thirst, Leni closed her eyes tight, wishing one of the bullets just fired had struck her head.
The hotel lobby impressed with an old pre-war luxury. Beautiful mahogany woodwork, frescoed high chandeliered ceilings, marble floors and arches, thick imperial blue drapes on the windows and brass studded leather furniture abounded. But this day the furniture was in a pile against a wall. Everything had been holed and cracked by gunfire. The lobby windows were gone, blasted by a near miss. Plaster dust and broken glass littered the floor.
Many of the young women, including Erica, had been dragged away by enlisted men immediately. Their shouts and cries could be heard through the thick walls on the upper floors even down below. Leni and some of the other, prettier girls, had been kept squatting in the lobby, hands still on their heads. A group of young staff officers stood by the doorway impatiently smoking, watching the girls, until joined by an extremely tall general officer, still not middle aged, in a tight fitting uniform with red and gold collar tabs. His pants, stuffed into tall black boots, had red stripes down the side. His staff came stiffly to attention, saluting, relaxing only at his order. The General's head and face were shaved close, his features stiff and regular. He arrived with no hat, no smile and a scarred mind.
Speaking briefly to a subordinate, who accompanied him, he walked stiffly into the lobby. Seeing Leni he paused, considering something. Then he nodded. His subordinate came towards her pulling heavy steel handcuffs from his pocket. Gesturing her up, he pulled her hands down behind her snapping the cuffs around her wrists. One hand around her upper arm, he presented her to The General. As she stood before him, her eyes down, the General waved others of his staff forward to make their selections.
The General had enormous hands. Leni's breasts were full and round but his hands easily encompassed them, making her feel very small. He stretched one hand over her stomach, feeling how flat it was. The hand spread wide spanned her belly completely so he could grasp her there with one hand and pull her forward. This he did, grimacing at the dust on her long blonde hair, the tears making tracks in the dirt on her dimpled face, the large blue eyes reddened, her wide lips dry and flaking. The top of Leni's head came to the center of his chest. The man smelled horribly.
Her voice husky with thirst, Leni begged the man as convincingly as she could. "Please sir," she said. "Bitte, mein herr. I must go home. My mother is alone and needs me." Gruffly, with the hint of a smile, the General replied in a thickly accented German, "You will see your mother soon." Then one of his men led Leni to a suite of rooms on an upper floor in another wing of the hotel. Here the damage was not too bad. Around one corner by a landing Leni tried not to see poor insensible Erica on her knees, arms chained back over the stair rail, naked, her small chest and breasts covered with saliva and cum, her mouth raped by any passing soldier who cared to.
The sitting room of the suite had pink marble floors. A couch and a few chairs were scattered about. Wide oriel windows stood in alcoves with ornate porcelain radiators. Across each alcove a high wooden beam supported stained glass half moon designs. In one alcove, a burst of gunfire had broken all the glass. In the other alcoves, this high up, the sunlight set the stained glass flaming. On a mahogany side board, bottles with a few loaves of dark bread had been arranged around a block of cheese. A wooden, aluminum lined water barrel stood on the floor, sweating in the heat.
Firmly, the General led Leni to one of the pretty, hand painted porcelain radiators. He uncuffed her left hand when she knelt then fixed the other hand firmly to the radiator. Looking at the water made Leni faint and dizzy. With a few long steps the General filled a large bucket, dumping it over her head. With a hotel towel he wiped the dust off her face. It felt so good, despite everything, Leni began to hope things might not be so bad. Next he gave her a wooden goblet full of water, put it right in her hand so she could drink. But her hand shook so she spilled half of it. Weakly, she said, "I'm sorry, I'm right handed." The General gave that little smile, a curl of the lip. Refilling the goblet, he held it for her to drink. She must've drunk three goblets full to the bottom before he took it away. Next he fed her bits of bread broken from one of the loaves, patiently waiting while she chewed. One more goblet of water completed the meal. If only she could sleep for awhile, Leni thought, she might be able to face whatever came.
"Let's go. Time to pay for your meal."
The General had removed his tunic. Thin but very muscular, he knelt on one knee before her. In one hand he gripped a coil of rope. Expertly knotting it around her free hand, he released her cuffed hand from the radiator. With practiced dexterity, he bound the two wrists together. The rope tight, too rough, Leni grimaced. She only wanted to live. "I will try to do what you want if you don't hurt me," she said. In his thickly accented German the General replied, "That will depend on your behavior."
