Thread: Innocence and the Enemy (Sweet Angel Jocelyn & CharmSnake)

Colonel Dodak had sent Fleiszer with a dozen men to go search the barn for surprises and to take stock of the resources. Then he took another half dozen men of his own to knock upon the door of the house. The yard was filled with the sounds of the men's voices and the clacking of mallets on stakes as the unit unpacked and began erecting their tents. Some even set about the hedges for kindling to start cooking fires. It's only noon, Altmann observed with a smile. We would not be stopping here if it were for only overnight. We will be here a while. True, he agreed as he sat unwrapping his boots. Give my feet a chance to recover. He positioned himself cross-legged to examine them. The bottoms were red and blistered from being exposed to the hot earth for days. Timo Altmann was the closest thing he had to a good friend since joining the army. His family was Austrian but he had gone to school in Krakow and enlisted there. They met when they were enrolled, marched together and were tent mates. In the evening sometimes they played cards. They even won some tobacco off a couple of French infantry playing bridge back in Lithuania. Gregorsz, get off your ass and help me with this canvas, Altmann smirked as he gestured towards the far corner. He rose and savored the soft grass soothing his sore feet for a moment. Then he took off his soiled, sweaty shirt before kneeling to pull the sheet taut so that Altmann could peg the last stake. He was a bit thin from poor army rations but despite the fact that he had never been overly muscular, military life had kept him in good shape. I'd love to have a decent bath, he commented on the sorry state of his hygiene. They must have a proper wash basin around here. And a good meal. There's cows in that barn. You can smell the shit, said Altmann. Roast beef. he grinned. He gave the peg a couple more taps and was satisfied with the integrity of the structure. And clean clothes, said Gregorsz rising to his feet. There's enough dirt on my breaches to grow onions. And the onions would improve how they smell. If it would have been any later in the day he may not have noticed, as the front of the house facing to the east would have been in the shade, but in the final moments of the noon hour sun, a glint of gold in the attic window caught his eye. The vivid sheen gave away the fair hair of a young girl carefully eying the foreign soldiers that had just invaded her home. The tent was one of the closest ones to the house, perhaps twenty yards from the door where The Colonel was now knocking louder. At first he thought it was a child ducking low in the corner of the window's frame and he lost sight of her briefly in the shadow as she pulled back. Dodak, in his shako and officer's tailcoat as grey as his mustache, now spoke with the reluctant owner of the house who stood guardedly behind the door half ajar. Then she reappeared above craning her neck higher for a better perspective. She was young but it was clear that she was no child, and he could not deny that she was lovely with pale skin and a long braid of gold falling off her shoulder. Her hair shimmered in the sunlight like treasure. They did not make eye contact as her gaze was elsewhere at that particular moment, but he was fixated and suddenly became conscious of his own rough appearance, running his fingers through his thick dark hair and wiping his face with his forearm. And women. Altmann's comment snapped him out of it. He looked over to see his friend's grinning face gesturing upwards to the attic window. See that? the Austrian asked. Gregorsz looked back up. She was gone.