Winfred

24

Official Report

British Intelligence

Code: 3986

Kathleen Winfred

Pirot eventually stopped pining over Von Steubon. This was, as she told me, because she had met someone. Then she backtracked and told me that she had not just met this particular person, but that she had known him from her childhood. 

She was blushing furiously as she told me that she had admired him from a distance as a child and had been too shy to speak to him, but now, she had another chance. He is a transfer from another prison, a new guard that Von Steubon specifically transferred because he shares the views of Pirot and himself. 

Albert Holzmann is most certainly handsome, and, after I saw him in passing one day and observed the way he looks at Pirot (with admiration and respect, in case you were curious), I believe that she will do good by him.

After another bomb incident, Von Steubon has instituted air raid drills, which the entire prison must take part in. 

Therefore, when the next actual bombing came, we were much more prepared and the evacuation of the prison to the basement was preformed much more quickly than before. 

This one had occurred in the early hours of the morning (one a.m.) and it was an odd mixture of people who gathered downstairs that night. 

Kare Pirot in a plain nightdress. Heinrich Scwab in uniform trousers and an undershirt. The cook, whose name I do not know, shirtless. One soldier, wrapped in a blanket. Von Steubon, in pajama trousers and his uniform jacket. Albert Holzmann, on duty at the time of the raid, in full uniform. Another soldier hugging a pillow to his chest. 

It was a long raid. 

When it had become clear to us that this was not going to be a short raid, we attempted to make ourselves comfortable and prepared to wait out the rest of the night. 

A lot of the German soldiers, between drills and the previous air raids, had become less offended at having to share space with the prisoners. We had almost formed a sort of camaraderie. 

The cook told jokes, laughing loudly no matter how terrible the joke was. 

Someone played the radio awhile and sang along in German with the program. Pirot and Albert held hands and talked in a corner, until they both fell asleep. 

Virginia entertained everyone with stories of her six siblings at home in America. Jessica sang, and received loud applause. 

Von Steubon, finished taking head count, took the empty spot beside me, but remained tense and silent. Schubert, seeing that his master had finally taken a seat, vaulted off my lap and onto Von Steubon's, curling up and falling immediately asleep.

A few of the soldiers dared one another to go up and get bread for everyone from the kitchen. 

I glanced at Von Steubon, wondering if he would stop such clearly stupid behavior, but he had withdrawn into himself just as he had last time. 

The soldiers left and came back soon after, laughing gleefully, their arms full of bread. One was carrying two chocolate cakes that the cook had baked.

The men distributed their bounty to everyone, even the prisoners. Something about the basement and the air raid brought us all together. (Everyone except Heinrich Schwab and a few of his compatriots who sat in the corner glaring at everyone.)

When the loaf of bread came to me, I broke a piece off and offered it to Von Steubon, but he shook his head, declining the offer.

The cake was the best part of the night. I had not tasted cake in what seemed to me like forever. It was wonderful. It was sugar. It was chocolate. It was frosting on top. It was marvelous. I do believe that I could not stop smiling the entire time I was eating the small piece allotted to me. Many of the prisoners were the same way and the German soldiers laughed at our glee, but it was not mean laughter. It was almost as if they were sharing in our happiness. Von Steubon did not eat his cake.

Eventually, using a pile of blankets we had found in storage at the back of the basement, we made ourselves comfortable enough to sleep. I lay on the floor next to Jessica and Virginia, and took a blanket as the pile came to me. I took an extra before passing the pile onward.

I managed to get Von Steubon's attention and threw the blanket to him. He looked at it for a moment, as if trying to remind himself where he was and what he was doing there. Then he met my eyes, and nodded his thanks. 

I closed my eyes and settled against Virginia, full with more food than I had had in a while, and full with the warmth of camaraderie I felt. 

The all-clear was given on the radio, but most of us were unwilling to move.

The exceptions were Von Steubon, who stood and abruptly left as soon as the all-clear was given, and Heinrich Schwab and his group of friends who also left, refusing to spend any more time with prisoners.

The rest of us spent the remaining hours of the night in the basement.