Belle's Story

Chapter Fifteen

"Well dear, did you have enough surprises yesterday?"

"I have to admit, you dropped quite a bombshell. Belle?"

"Yes, dear?"

"What's in that box I brought?"

"Those are souvenirs from my trip here."

"Can we look at it?"

"Certainly."

I unlocked the closet and brought Belle the box. She sifted through it making occasional comments like, "I forgot all about that." Or, "Why on earth did I save that?" Then she pulled out a grey metal object about the size of my pinky knuckle.

"Grandma, that's a bullet!"

"For my gun, dear."

What a different world. I can't imagine you carrying a gun for protection."

"It was a very real need, Deborahling."

"You must have been scared to death and unsure of everything."

Bell placed the bullet back, closed the lid and put the box on the table by her bed. She rubbed her forehead for a moment, sighed and then took my hand.

"Well, it wasn't my finest hour. But, I survived. I must admit I was happy to leave Poznan. Father Peter was kind, but living in a cathedral in the middle of a war zone was not the least bit appealing." My grandmother's gift for the understated couldn't have been better demonstrated. "When I arrived at the German Camp, the first signs of light were just rising in the east. It was a cold clear morning, and a thin pink line hovered on the horizon. Soldiers were scurrying here and there loading supplies onto carts or breaking down tents. Many of them showed the scars of war, with torn uniforms or fresh wounds. They lacked winter coats and wore boots with visible cracks in the leather. Officers were shouting orders. And, as hectic as things were, I sensed an order and purpose to their movements.

"Von Walderhäese walked up to me as I approached the camp. His greeting was curt, but not impolite. I was to wait in his motorcade, a group of about three cars surrounded by tanks. He would accompany me on our journey, not out of chivalry, or even because he was the least bit concerned about my life, but because I was a commodity he could not afford to have harmed.

"I entered the car slowly, not sure what to expect, as this was my first time inside an automobile. Just like Colonel von Walderhäese's wardrobe, the vehicle was impeccable, black and shiny. It stood in stark contrast to the camouflaged tanks and muddy horses surrounding us. The backseat was more like an overstuffed sofa and my feet dangled in the air, like a small child in her grandfather's favorite leather wing back chair. There was ample space to conduct any of a number of tasks, including those in front of me.

"After handing me a stack of papers to study, von Walderhäese ordered one of his lieutenants to have my things searched. They immediately found my ammunition, which lead to a search of my body and clothing. The gun was quickly confiscated. I have to admit that I was only partially upset about losing the weapon. It scared me almost as much as the Germans did."

"But how did you keep the bullet?"

 "You will just have to wait to find out. Patience, dear, is a virtue.

"Von Walderhäese decided he couldn't trust me to be alone. He called over one of his body guards, who was assigned to keep me out of trouble until we reached Berlin. His name was Rolph. He was tall and skinny for a German soldier. His wavy strawberry blond hair peeked out from under his hat, framing a baby face with rosy cheeks, chapped from spending so many nights in the bitter cold. His shoulders and feet were disproportionately larger than the rest of his body. Rolph confided in me that he was grateful for the new duty. It meant sitting in a comfortable car, shielded from the biting wind, instead of trudging through mud alongside horses, carts and other soldiers, and wondering when he would taste hot food."