Blue Glass

Disguises

July, 1917

My stay in Berlin was otherwise uneventful and painfully boring. Aside from the occasional sightseeing I was able to do, I either stayed in my hotel room and talked to Svetlana over the phone or did whatever business I had to do with my colleagues for that day.
We spent the rest of June in that fashion. I constantly wondered what became of Manfred and his letters. Was Svetlana reading them? Were they gathering dust in the mailbox? Did he still think me worth writing to? Ever since that phone call, I hadn't had a chance to let him know I would be leaving for Germany. Then again, I hadn't exactly known I would be going to Germany anyway.
In any event, the methodic boredom my life had become was disrupted by a visit to the news kiosk one July afternoon.

"...I'll talk to you later, Svetlana. Bye."
I hung up without waiting for her reply and heaved myself out of the chair, casting a cursory glance at the window. The weather looked just divine, like it was beckoning me to take a walk and take advantage of it while I still had it.
Just this once, I thought as I began to coil my hair into the usual bun. I probably won't be missed, anyway.
Today in particular had been a torturously slow day. We hadn't had anything to do in terms of buying wine, and it had rained all day, meaning we had been stuck in the hotel up until now. While the others raided the deserted cafe downstairs, I stayed in my room napping and paging through Der Rote Kampfflieger. If anything, I was now madly jealous of Manfred's otherwise idyllic childhood as opposed to mine—he had parents that loved him, he established close bonds with his siblings, and he had friends, the complete opposite of what I had been doing at his age.
I shoved the last pin into place and put my wide brim hat on my head. I would just walk up and down a few streets and then come back in time for dinner.
The air was moist and humid at the same time, the kind of atmosphere you would expect to be surrounded with after a downpour. I picked my way precariously around puddles on the sidewalk, suddenly thankful there was no one around to see me. I was unfortunately wearing a new pair of leather shoes that still needed to be broken in, and my feet felt like I had stuffed them into a child's pair of shoes. As a result, my gait resembled that of someone's grandmother more than anything else.
A crowd of people up ahead caught my attention. Getting closer, I realized they were all gathered around a newspaper kiosk. All around me, various people were either sobbing heart wrenchingly or standing around in stoic silence. I figured that even if there was a good piece of news it wouldn't be proper to express any happiness over it in the midst of all this sadness.
We were in a different country, but the contents of these kiosks no doubt remained the same. They were literally the only consistent link between us civilians and the soldiers at the Front. Not only did they give us news about victories on the battlefield, they also carried notices of deaths.
I wriggled my way through the mass of people to the front of the kiosk and scanned the articles up for reading.
Richthofen Shot Down—July 4th.
Time seemed to stop for a second. I stood there, immobilized, staring up at the black banded article for what felt like an eternity.
Rittm. Von Richthofen was shot down during combat near Wervicq against a formation of F.E.2d two seat fighters of No.20 Squadron RFC. The air victory was credited to Captain Donald Connell of No. 20 squadron...
Currently convalescing at Field Hospital No 76, St Nicholas in Courtrai.

Why do you care, Lea? Why do you care? The voice in my head asked.
I don't know.
Go somewhere else! He's somebody's son; he has people who will grieve for him and he has the love of the people! The affections of an Austrian are nothing to him; he gets plenty of it from girls he's much more inclined to love than you!
But—
But nothing! Go!
So I did. I straightened; rolled my shoulders back; wormed my way out of the throng of people and back onto the sidewalk, where I proceeded to resume my walk.
And I tried to act like I had never seen that notice, but it seemed that no matter how hard I tried, he always found a way back into my head.

I had no idea if the number she had given me all these years ago would still work. Surely she ought to have moved, or at least changed her number. Still, it was worth a try.
The sound of the call connecting ended in a telltale click, and I immediately snapped to attention.
"Otersdorf." The voice was unmistakable.
"Käte?"
"Who is this?"
"It's Lea. Lea Schwarz from school."
A sharp intake of breath. "Lea?"
"Yes, it's me."
There was a shuffling sound in the background. "How have you been?"
"Alright. And you?"
"Busy, too busy." She sighed. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"
Käte Otersdorf had been a longtime classmate of mine before I dropped out of school to work for Sonnemann Wines. My decision to drop out hadn't been due to financial hardships. It was more of my realization that I didn't want to waste my time learning things that I knew I wouldn't use in the real world. For once, I had been right—working for a wine merchant didn't require much skill, and the pay was amazing, even during wartime.
"I need a favor," I said. "Did you still follow through with your dream to become a nurse?"
"I did!" Käte sounded like she was on the verge of starting a ramble. "I actually wanted to go into dressmaking but you know I'm not good with a needle and I'm sure you remember how many sewing machines went kaput because of me during sewing class, so I thought of things I could do that didn't require using a needle and thread..."
I rested my chin in my hands, staring at the squawking receiver. Some things never changed, and Käte's tendency to ramble was one of them.
"...so, how can I be of assistance?"
"Are you working at a field hospital now?"
"I'm leaving tomorrow for Courtrai."
My heart skipped a beat. "Where exactly in Courtrai?"
"Field Hospital 76."
That was all I needed. I leaped out of my chair and slapped my hand down on the telephone table, gripping the receiver tight enough to snap it in two.
"You need to do me a favor," I began, willing my voice not to shake. "My cousin is deathly ill, and he might die soon. He hasn't shown any signs of dying yet, but he's been pleading with me in each letter how badly he wants to see me. Obviously no one will let me up to see him because I'm going alone,  and he doesn't seem like he's in any mortal danger—"
"Lea..." Käte's voice was suddenly wary. "What are you asking?"
"It's a big favor to ask," I said, taking a deep breath. "Can I borrow one of your uniforms and sneak in?"
"No."
"But—"
Her voice hardened. "That's too risky. I'm not going to get in trouble on your account."
"You won't be in the picture," I said. "I'm only going to be there for a week at most and then disappear. Besides, there are so many of you no one will notice me...oder?"
Käte heaved a sigh. "And if you were to get caught?"
"It'll be my mess at that point. I'll clean it up."
"I still don't feel comfortable sneaking you in."
"You just don't think I can pull something like that off. You need to trust me. I won't do anything rash; just—"
"How will you supplant the nurse already taking care of your cousin?"
The inside of my mouth immediately dried up. If I told her I didn't know, I would only be confirming her suspicions that I was an inept imposter.
I don't know—that's the problem.
"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it," i said as nonchalantly as I could. "Where in Germany are you? I'll take the first train there."
Käte sighed. "Munich."
"Thank you," I said, my voice already shaking with a mix of excitement and relief. "I'll see you soon."
"Safe travels, Lea."
I slammed the phone down, collapsed on my bed and screamed into the nearest pillow.

A/N: sorry this update took so long to go up...I sort of was having really bad writers block and I was remedying that by watching German movies on YouTube..;)
Thank you all so much for reading; it really means the world to me

Kaput: Broken
Rittm:Abbreviation for Rittmeister, which is German for "Cavalry Captain". Lots of pilots in the German Air Service were former cavalrymen before the cavalry was dismounted in the earlier years of the war. Pilots didn't have a fixed uniform, unlike infantrymen or cavalrymen, so they just wore their uniform from their previous cavalry regiments. This also meant that depending on where you came from you got your promotions through there. Infantry and cavalry had different ranks and so you got promoted according to those ranks. (Sorry it this doesn't make sense uwu)
Manfred von Richthofen used to be an Uhlan (a sort of cavalry person with a big lance instead of a sword) before he became a pilot so if you look at any picture of him you'll notice that he's almost always wearing the Uhlan uniform. The highest rank he ever attained was Cavalry Captain although he performed the duties of someone with a much higher rank than the one he was allocated, which was normal in the German Air Service.
**sorry about the ramble! X)