Winfred

68

Official Report

British Intelligence

Code: 3986

Kathleen Winfred

Once within the compound, I walked more slowly, the hallways empty of most people.

I let a few tears fall, as I was unable to hold them back anymore. I could not, I told myself, do this. I would have to die. I could not be a woman's guard. I was a coward. Pirot could do what she had to, to remain strong, but I could not. These were my countrymen. My friends. I could not watch them suffer, even if I spent time helping them in little ways to make up for it. I could not. I simply couldn't.

Eventually, I reached the door to Von Steubon's office, where I stopped, hesitating. I did not want to face Von Steubon. He would be, most assuredly, angry.

I was surprised when he opened the door of his own accord. He seemed distressed about something, and slightly flustered. His uniform cap was off and his hair was slightly mussed. He seemed surprised to see me.

He looked at me, taking in my disheveled appearance.

"What happened?" he asked, sternly, his brow furrowing.

I shook my head and launched into a drawn-out apology: "I'm sorry, Hauptsturmfuhrer Von Steubon! I can't do it anymore! I cannot be a woman's guard! I cannot watch the prisoners suffer. I cannot take part in it! I will have to be killed! You must certainly kill me now, but I cannot do it...I cannot..." I was bloody hysterical. By this time, I had thrown any heed to the wind, and stopped trying to hold in my tears. I heard Von Steubon saying my name, trying to get my attention, but I could only keep apologizing. "I'm sorry! I am so sorry for all the trouble I've caused you..."

"Ilsa..."

"I just can't watch..."

"Ilsa!"

"Please don't..."

He suddenly stepped towards me, took me by the shoulders, and gave me a slight shake. "Kathleen!" he hissed. "Listen!"

That managed to get my attention, and I managed to shut up enough to at least listen to what he had to say, keeping my gaze trained on the ground the entire time.

"I'm sorry!" he said, sounding exasperated. I thought, at first, that he was mad at me, but I gradually realized he was only berating himself. "I'm so sorry...I've been a...a fool! I should have known...No one should have to watch people from their own country...people that are their friends...suffer. I was an idiot to put you through that by having you be a woman's guard. It was...stupid of me, alright? I'm...sorry." He shook his head. "You won't die. I'll...I'll make sure of it. This is my fault, and I'll make sure it's made right. You'll come back and serve as my secretary. Full time. I'll...find more things for you to do...to make it worth your while. No more training as a guard. No more guard duties. No more of this. Alright? No more. I swear it."

I gradually looked up, meeting his gaze; his blue eyes appeared distressed. Biting my lip, I nodded.

He seemed somewhat relieved, but he had yet to take his hands from my shoulders, or to remove his gaze from mine. He still looked concerned.

"I'm...alright..." I managed to say, trying to force a small smile, but failing. "I'll...be fine."

His grip on my shoulders loosened somewhat, and he nodded, still appearing unsure of my statement.

I was so confused. I thought he hated me. But here he was, concerned over me, of all things. I had thought that he would only be glad to get rid of me, after the past few weeks.

I thought of all the little things he had done for me. Allowing me the chance to escape Ravensbruck. Letting me borrow his books, even when I had not, at first, asked his permission. Opening up to me, at least slightly, about little things, such as his demanding superiors and his discomfort during the air raids. Telling Pirot about my birthday, then making sure that he got me a present of great worth, something he knew I would be happy with. Trusting me to make my own decision to come back. Giving me his umbrella when I was wet and had not brought my own.

And even back before I hardly knew him, when he helped me inside, gave me warm soup, and made sure that I was alright after I had collapsed on work detail.

All I had done was thrown up on his boots and made things difficult for him.

I looked at him, my voice somewhat shaky as I spoke.

"We are friends, right?" I said.

He looked surprised, but he nodded. "Ja," he said. "Yes. Friends."

"I am sorry," I said. "For throwing up on your boots."

I hugged him, then, wrapping my arms around him and resting my head against his chest, my cheek pressed against the cold metal of his officer's name badge.

After a mere moment, he returned my hug, holding me tightly.

Von Steubon was strong; Von Steubon was the smell of cologne. Von Steubon was an officer's stiff jacket. Von Steubon was warm. Von Steubon was stability for my shaky legs.

Von Steubon was apologizing...again.

"I'm sorry, Kathleen. It will be alright now...You will see. I will make it be alright. I promise."