The Cuckoo's Cage

Chapter Twenty-Three

It was nearing the middle of February, the chill in the air still persistent. Hans was sitting up in bed, reading. He'd be returning to Berlin in a few days, and now he was just waiting out the time. He was re reading the bible... again. It was all they had there, and if he didn't read, his mind wandered to Karl. He simply couldn't face that. He heard someone approach his bed, and looked up, his expression one of surprise.

"Altmann?" he said in confusion, the Standartenführer standing opposite him.

"It's good to see you, Hans," Altmann replied, now pulling up a chair and sitting beside him.

"What on earth are you doing in Belgium?" asked Hans, setting his book aside.

"What on earth are you doing reading the bible?" questioned Altmann.

"It distracts me," confirmed Hans, gazing at him for the answer.

"I took leave to come and escort you back to Berlin," he said. "Didn't want you stuck with all the other injured men making their way home."

"Thank you," said Hans. There was a pause.

"I'm really sorry about Von Hart," mumbled Altmann. "I know you were very fond of him." Hans' eyes focused away from him; his mouth pressed into a hard, thin line. He said nothing, just nodding a little in thanks. Altmann took another deep breath. "And I'm sorry that the bad news has to continue." Hans' gaze flicked up, his eyes wide and searching.

"What has happened?" he asked. Altmann was struggling to find the words. It was bizarre to see him so quiet and withdrawn; he usually had no problems getting his point across. "Why are you really here?" asked Hans, his voice low and throaty.

"I went to visit the camp a few weeks ago," he began.

"Is it Anna? Is she all right?" interrupted Hans. Altmann's jaw was clenched. "Just tell me!" urged Hans.

"She went into early labour," he said quietly. "The child didn't survive." Hans was breathing deeply.

"Early labour? Why? What happened?!"

"Anna survived," he confirmed. "Barely. But I don't know how she is now. Ernst is no longer answering my calls." There was a pause.

"Did he have something to do with it?" asked Hans, the words sticking in his throat. Altmann nodded.

"He was angry at her..." began Altmann. "He beat her, and it caused her to..."

"Why would he beat her?" spat Hans, his brow heavily furrowed.

"Not long after you left for the front... after you had spoken on the telephone... Anna found out that the baby was yours." It fell deathly silent. Hans stared at him, trying to hold himself together.

"Mine?" he mouthed.

"She didn't know until she went to the Doctor, and they confirmed it," explained Altmann. "Ilse overheard her telling me. Anna wanted me to get a message to you; to tell you that she loved you and that the child was yours. Ilse told Ernst, and he lost his temper." Hans' fists were clenched at his sides. There was another long silence, Altmann's stomach churning at seeing his friend in so much pain. "She had a little girl," he said, Hans' stifling a cry.

"My daughter..." he whispered, the tears now falling down his cheeks. "Anna... how was she? When you last saw her?"

"Not good," he said. "Ernst told me in one call that she is well, but he won't allow me to speak..."

"You left her there with him?"

"What choice did I have?" he asked. "Besides, if she wouldn't leave with you, why should she leave with me?" Hans didn't reply, his face screwed up tightly. "I know it's hard, but it's her own choice! She's a traitor..."